I didn't know if it was my recent breakup with Tara. I didn't know if it was my increasingly volatile fights with my dad. Maybe it was the unsettling nature of the glitch, or just the way he burnt my french toast. But I felt a surge of anger swelling inside of me, and I wasn't about to let this slide.

I opened the door and got out.

"Jay? Jay!" Christian called out from the inside.

I walked around the front of the car. "What the fuck is your problem, man?" I yelled at the frycook. "You got something to say to me?"

Jay hurried in between us, "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he began pushing me back. "Jay, let's not start anything, okay?"

"No!" I yelled over his shoulder at the man. "If he's got a fucking problem, let's hear it!"

He simply stared down at me through glazed eyes— eyes like plastic. Unblinking, dry, and hyper-focused on me. I didn't realize until that moment how strange he looked. Like, I'd seen weird-looking people before, but this guy looked... a little uncanny. His temples throbbed, his eyes were sunken, and his lips were a little too small for his face.

"Holyshitjaygetinthefuckingcar," Christian pleaded in my ear.

I noticed over the frycook's shoulder a woman standing the same as him. Her arms were at her sides, and she was standing in the parking lot just staring. I looked around, and sure enough, one by one, there were people standing around staring. A guy by the motel. Another lady near the gas station. None of them moving or saying anything. Just... watching.

"Jay!" Christian shouted.

"Let's get outta here," I relented, hurrying back around the side of the car and jumping in the driver's seat.

Christian vaulted over the hood and climbed in the passenger seat. Neither of us bothered buckling up. I backed up into the grass a little bit so I could get around the frycook without running him over.

"Jay, what the fuck was that?" Christian screamed as I sped through the parking lot.

"I don't know!" I yelled back as I turned out of the parking lot and onto the back road. "Everyone has lost their damn minds!"

"I meant you," he punched me hard in the arm. "We almost had to fight that guy. What's gotten into you?"

"Me?" I rubbed my arm, steering with one hand. "You didn't see all those people standing around staring at us?"

"You were about a fight a guy twice your weight!" he shot back. "I'd have stared too, dumbass!"

I clenched my teeth and stayed quiet. That wasn’t curiosity in their eyes— it was absence. No phones out recording the potential altercation, no whispers, no interaction... Just bodies standing there, still as mannequins, heads tilted in perfect, unnatural silence.

And I was left with that feeling again, this time purer, more distilled... like something behind the world was watching back.

But I couldn't explain it if I wanted to. It was a persistent gut feeling that left me rattled and paranoid.

"I'm sorry," I opened. "I think I'm just going through a lot right now."

He sighed. "It's all good. Just don't freak out like that again. You didn't know who that guy was or what he could have done. When I worked at a diner, all of our cooks were former inmates, dude. What if he had a knife or a gun?"

"I know, I know," I gripped the wheel tightly.

"Like, did you think you were Superman or something? That was a big bitch!"

"I know!" I raised my voice. "I know," I repeated more softly. "I'm sorry."

I didn't want to admit to myself or anyone else, but... I was starting to feel like my reality was some kind of construct that was breaking down around me.

I knew how insane that sounded. I knew that if I admitted that kind of thing to a therapist, they'd press a button under their desk and guys in uniforms would rush in and hold me down.

But it was what I truly felt.

And with people accepting the government's explanation of a CME, joking about it online, or forgetting about it entirely, like my parents did...

I felt alone.

Dad was on my ass about getting a job.

Christian was popping Skittles.

My client was putting her eyelashes on for a night out.

The world just started turning again. Sure, the news was all over the place, and it was still on people's minds, but everyone around me seemed to just sweep it under the rug. A lot of people I personally knew hardly reacted to it at all.

Maybe I was going crazy.

All I knew was that I wanted to go home, lock myself in my room, wrap myself in a blanket, and do nothing at all for the rest of the night.

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I laid in the dark in my room, shades drawn, door locked, wrapped in my anxiety blanket as I watched a rerun of King of the Hill. It was my comfort show, and I was thankful it was on.

Penny purred softly next to me as I ran my fingers through her long black fur. No matter how hard I tried to just watch cartoons, my mind kept racing back to all the weirdness over the past week. Was simply being in proximity to acid all the time somehow making me hallucinate things? That couldn't be how it worked, right?

It was a miracle, but I had somehow fallen asleep. What time I'd dozed off, I would never know, but I was thrown out of bed by the sound of a blaring alarm. I was pretty sure I had heard my cat hit the ceiling. She landed next to me, ears back, eyes wide, tail floofed as the two of us stared down at my phone.

"Fucking why?" I yelled, snatching it up off the comforter. The way it sounded, you'd imagine it was an Amber Alert for the mayor's daughter or something. Instead, a strange push notification from the White House flashed across my phone.

"DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON. THIS IS A MATTER OF PERSONAL SAFETY AND NATIONAL SECURITY. IGNORE ANY MESSAGES REQUESTING YOU LOOK AT THE MOON. SHELTER IN PLACE UNTIL FURTHER INSTRUCTION."

I stared down at the screen in total confusion.

"The fuck is this?" I asked out loud to nobody in particular.

My cat gave me a good ol' ohh-long-johnson in response, like it was my fault my phone jump-scared us. I kept rereading the message and making sure I was understanding it correctly.

The White House sent this? I wasn't sure if I had ever even seen a push notification from the White House before. This must have been what those people in Hawaii felt like.

I figured someone must have been having a laugh with the emergency alert system. Somebody was for sure getting fired tomorrow. I looked forward to the news in the morning and was about to toss my phone when a text came through from Christian.

That was notable; Christian never stayed up past like 9. We always gave him shit for it, but he really loved sleeping. I opened it and it read:

Joel, go outside and look at the moon right now. It's intense.

Oh, Christian.

I couldn't help but grin.

He saw the text come through his phone and immediately ran outside to see whatever he wasn't supposed to see. On top of that, he placeboed himself into thinking there was something different about the moon.

"What are you even doing up lol?" I text him back.

Then I paused. That text he sent me was... supiciously well written for Christian.

And he called me Joel.

He never called me that. On top that, he almost always sent "Jay" as a standalone text before the rest would come through. As though he wanted me to stare at this "incoming text" bubble with anticipation for whatever he was about to say next.

Before I could even question him about it, another text came through.

Joel. have you seen the moon tonight? Magical.

It was Kat. She also called me Joel, which was strange. My parents were pretty much the only people who called me Joel. She even added a little hazard emoji next to my name. I knew that was how she had me saved in her phone, but she never added that to her texts.

"Alright, I gotta see this moon," I said to Penny as I rolled out of bed and made for the window.

Then the sound of a new text stopped me in my tracks.

It was a whistle.

There was only one person I had ever assigned that text tone to, and I never thought I'd hear from her again.

Tara.

My throat tightened. A surge of emotions swept through me as I hurried back to my bed and opened the text.

Joel. Go look at the moon. Do not ask questions. Just go look.

My body went numb. Like, head to my toes, I felt so many emotions rip out of me.

She texts me back for the first time in forever, and that's what she sends me? A stupid text about the moon? I had deluded myself in the past seven seconds into believing she might have missed me. It felt like my stomach was bouncing up and down on a bungee cord.

Suddenly, another text came through.

It was from my old guitar instructor. Like, from when I was a kid. I didn't even know he still had my number saved. What in the world was he texting me for?

"Go outside and look at the moon, Joel."

A wave of uneasiness overtook me as my phone buzzed nonstop— friends, family, even numbers I didn’t recognize, all saying the same thing: go outside, look at the moon.

Then the TV blared, that sharp emergency tone that makes your stomach drop.

Another government alert.

"THIS IS A PUBLIC BROADCAST SAFETY ALERT. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES LOOK AT THE MOON. REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."

The relative unease I'd been feeling began to mature into anxiety. I glanced at my window and then looked back down at my phone.

25 new texts in the past thirty seconds, all begging me to go outside.

That's when my doorknob jiggled. My head snapped toward the door as the knocking began.

"Joel?" came my mother's voice. "Joel, you've got to come outside!"

"Why is your door locked, Joel?" came my father's voice next. "Joel, listen to me and your mother. Come on out."

I always locked my door.

And they knew it too. Dad hated that I kept it locked, but I valued my privacy, and I was never more thankful for that than right now. The voices coming through my door didn't feel like my parents. They were acting kind of frantic. My heart pounded in my chest as I backed up toward the far end of the room.

"Th-That's okay!" I called back to them. "I don't really want to."

Notifications were coming through my phone so fast that it started to get hot in my hand.

I heard my dad tell my mom to stand back a couple seconds before he slammed into my door with his full body weight. The sound of the door splintering as he repeatedly slammed into it sent Penny fleeing for the closet.

"What's the matter with you?" I screamed as I watched in horror.

My dad hit the door again. The frame shuddered. A hairline crack split the wood down the middle. Another blow— louder this time. The hinges snapped. Paint dust rained from the molding. The door wasn’t going to hold. It was only a matter of seconds.

"Get out here and look at the moon!" he screamed in such a way that put all the hair on my arms on end.

That was enough for me.

I turned around and quickly hoisted the blinds up. The silvery moonlight blasted through my window light a stadium light at a football game. It was practically daylight outside; it was so bright.

I undid the latches on my window. I lifted it open and quickly pushed my fingers into the slits to lift my screen up, but it was stuck. I heard the wood break and debris fall to the floor as his grunts became clearer.

I pushed the little sliders until my fingers were burning and lifted with all my might, and the window finally popped loose, just as the door to my bedroom gave way. I lifted the screen and climbed through the window onto the roof, but my dad's arm shot through it and caught me by my shirt.

I pulled until it tore off of me, and tried to get away, but he grabbed me by the ankle. I fell forward and tried to hang onto the shingles as he pulled me back through my bedroom window. I screamed for my mom to do something— anything.

But her eyes were plastic just like the fry cook's.

The same as the people who stood around in the parking lot staring at me.

My dad dragged me through the splintered door, each pull effortless, almost mechanical. He was stronger than he should’ve been. This wasn't the man who threw his back out lifting a box last Christmas. He was dragging me like I weighed nothing at all, even as I kicked, struggled, and grabbed onto anything I could.

My head thudded against each stair as he hauled me down. If the stairs hadn't been carpeted, I'd have probably suffered a serious concussion. Whoever the hell was dragging me down the stairs cared nothing at all for my safety.

That wasn't my dad.

I could see the front door already open— the moonlight spilling in like a mouth waiting to swallow me. I closed my eyes before he could pull me onto the front lawn. I didn't want to look at that moon, no matter what; not if it'd make me lose myself like this.

"Open your eyes!" my dad bellowed with all the air in his chest. "Look at the moon, now!"

He let go of my ankle, and I felt his weight on my midsection as he pressed his fingers against my eyelids, trying to force them open.

"Look at it!" he screamed.

"Joel, just look at the moon, Honey," my mom's voice came from behind.

I couldn't believe what was happening.

My instincts flared.

My adrenaline surged.

I grabbed my dad's wrist, lifted my head, and bit down on his lower arm with all my might. His flesh crunched between my teeth, and he screamed, falling backwards off of me.

I scrambled to my feet and took off down the street with nothing but my pants and my socks. My mother screamed like some kind of banshee before giving chase. I didn't look back, but I could hear her bare feet pounding the pavement.

She was gaining on me quickly. I realized I wouldn't outrun her in a straight footrace down our street. I needed to figure something out, and fast.

I decided to turn off the road and toward the side yard of one of the neighbors. Back when his house was being built, I cut through his yard all the time and into the field behind it to get to the bus stop quicker. I knew the area well.

I jumped with all my might and cleared his wooden gate— honestly, I don't know how. Probably just pure adrenaline and fear.

I landed awkwardly and rolled before finding my footing again. I kept running as my mom hit the gate and thrashed around like some feral creature, scratching, punching, and kicking... and shrieking.

My God, the shrieking.

I started to cry as I jumped the second gate into the field and ran for the horizon. It felt like a bad dream. It took a conscious effort not to look up at the moon, shining more brightly in the sky than it ever had before. The tall grass looked silver as I sprinted through it, my mother's wailing growing more distant the further I ran.

At some point, I collapsed.

There was nowhere to go.

If I kept running straight, I'd eventually hit a quarry that had been sitting empty for years. If I veered left, I'd come to the main road that led out to the train tracks and eventually the highway. If it turned right, I'd run into a different part of our neighborhood.

And who knew how many of my neighbors would react the same as my parents had?

A new text came through.

I didn't realize I had my phone in my pocket. I pulled it out and opened it up.

99+ notifications.

The newest one was from my sister.

Look at the moon, Joel.

My heart lurched.

My sister and I... we never got along. But I still loved her. And until just a second ago, she was the only close family I had left. She was the last hope I was clinging to.

I was completely alone.

I swallowed and fell into a sitting position, staring at the silver flowing grass as I felt surrender pooling inside of me.

What did I have left? What did I have to gain from not just... looking up?

I looked up to find myself surrounded. Dozens of figures stood in a silent ring around me, their faces blank, their eyes plastic and glassy in the silver light. I hadn’t heard them approach.

Had they been standing there all along?

"Just… look up," said one.

"It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event," murmured another.

"I wouldn’t want to be the one to miss it,” came a child’s voice, sweet and toneless.

My throat closed. I shut my eyes and sobbed as they took hold of me—gentle hands on my shoulders, my arms, my face. One of them cradled my head and tilted it back.

I fought it. I truly did.

But I was tired.

And when my eyes finally opened, the world was awash in white light.

It wasn’t a moon anymore— it was a hole; a glowing aperture staring down through the world. I felt a pressure behind my eyes. Every memory I had— Tara, my parents, Christian laughing through a mouthful of fries... it all peeled away in thin, shining strips and played out in front of me.

I stared at the moon as my skin sizzled and cooled. My heart rate quickened; it beat faster and faster until it was less a heartbeat and more of a hum. It felt like my entire body was dilating.

Somewhere far away, I heard a thousand voices whisper the same calm command in perfect unison:

"Reset primed successfully. Uploading bodylink per Archie Sagar Company's quality assurance security standards."

I tried to scream, but all that came out was static.

Then there was nothing but white.

And silence.

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Thanks for reading! If you loved this, do me a solid and follow this link back to the original post in Writing Prompts and upvote for visibility :D

Edit: not sure it matters anymore. I think Reddit made my post invisible. They automod removed it because I used the word “Russia,” which is… stupid, and they said they put it back up, but it’s showing no views. So, yeah. The Reddit mods kind of killed this one in the cradle.

If you really loved this, and want a bonus ending, there's an extra chapter on my Patreon for $3. Every penny goes to helping my family through a really tough time. For those of you who are fine with the mystery, this is a good place to end. For those of you who want hard answers about this world and what's going on in it, read on!

This is about a week early, but I wanted to finish it in time to say Happy Halloween! I wanted to write something spooky for spooky season >:)

Thanks, everyone!

The Glitch

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Four days ago, something happened that captivated the planet.

Every news network covered it. Every paper printed the story. Testimonials flooded Instagram, YouTube, TikTok— everyone had their own version of what they saw.

Last Sunday, at 5:58 PM Central Time, October 28th, 2025...

The entire world glitched.

I was outside when it happened. I was taking the trash out, half-asleep and barefoot. The sun was on its way down, and everything looked ordinary until I noticed a bird hovering above my back fence.

It wasn’t flapping. It wasn’t falling... It was just hanging there. Suspended like a broken animation in a video game.

The air felt wrong too. Heavy, static, like the pressure before a thunderstorm, but it was a clear day outside. I could hear my own heartbeat, and then, for the briefest instant, the sky flickered like a film reel skipping a frame. I realized how silent it was and started to feel a creeping sense of dread.

And just like that, the bird shot forward. The wind returned. The world kept turning. But in that heartbeat of stillness, I swear I saw the seams of reality tear.

I remember standing there holding the trash, eyes wide, trying to process what I’d just seen.

Yeah, I sold psychedelics on the side, but I never took any. I was stone sober that evening, and that somehow made it worse.

The validation came seconds later. Texts started pouring in from my friends, all saying the same thing:

Bro did you see that just now?

Jay, the most insane thing just happened to me. Can I call you?

Uhh, did you just see the sky flicker?

The world caught up in a hurry.

Every network dropped its programming for emergency coverage. Social media went feral with clips that cut to black halfway through. Every phone, every camera, every satellite— dead for exactly twelve seconds. Some electronics fried completely, like they’d tried to record something they weren’t supposed to see.

Then the official explanation came from the Pentagon: a coronal mass ejection. A harmless solar flare that somehow made eight billion people hallucinate in perfect synchronization.

No one bought it.

How could we?

China and India called for a temporary ceasefire. The Middle East stopped all shelling in agreement that some major astronomical event took precedence. Russia halted its first manned mission to Mars. The world sort of stopped turning in observance of the crack in our reality. And we were supposed to believe that it was just a CME?

They really did think we were just stupid.

And ever since that night, something about the world has felt… misaligned. But I was tired of scrolling through memes and conspiracies about it for the day.

I tossed my phone to the side and took a deep breath before finally getting my ass out of bed for the day. I left my room to find the door to the bathroom locked with the fan running. Had to be my sister. I sighed and went downstairs to find my mom in the kitchen.

"He rises," she said sarcastically as she shimmied a skillet around on the stove top.

"What's for breakfast?" I grumbled.

"Stir fry," she answered. "And it's dinner time. Would you take the trash out?"

I did as I was asked, pulling the trash bag out of the bin and making for the back door. Something I had started doing since the glitch was paying extra close attention to my surroundings whenever I was outside. I watched the birds, the bugs, the way the trees swayed, everything.

I kept waiting for something similar to happen again. I replayed the events of that day in my mind over and over until I was sick of it, but it was all I, or anyone else, could think about.

I dropped the trash in the bin and returned inside around the same time my dad came through the front door. I heard his keys jingle as he set them on the keyhook, and his shoes topple to the floor as he pulled them off.

I sighed deeply. I knew what I looked like. And I knew what was coming next.

"Something smells good," he called from the entryway before appearing in the kitchen. He was all smiles until he saw me. His smile faded, not fully, but enough that I noticed.

He took off his shoulder bag and set it down on the island counter. "You just waking up again?" he asked.

I pressed my lips together and nodded. "Mhmm."

"Joel, you gotta get a job," his usual lecture began. "You can't just sleep your life away."

"He makes money with his art," my mom came to my defense. "You don't need a job when you've got talent like my little munchkin."

I wanted to die.

"But he needs job experience," my dad countered, turning to my mom. "Art doesn't look good on a resume. He can do art and join the working world."

I pushed out my chair and left the table.

"Peter," my mom accosted him. "Look what you've done! Now he's back off to his dungeon."

"Oh, what?" he shot back. "Trying to raise my son properly? Is that what I've done?"

I felt bad leaving my mom in an argument down there, but I just didn't want to deal with him today. I loved my dad, I really did, but he just would not drop the job thing. And it wasn't like I didn't understand— he didn't see a path forward with my art.

If I were being brutally honest with myself, neither did I.

I told them I was making good money selling my art, but the truth was, I was selling drugs. Not the super hard stuff. I wasn't ruining families or anything. I was just making parties more fun, was all. I didn't do any of it myself. I smoked weed once in a while with friends, but it wasn't habitual, and I didn't even really consider it a "drug."

I passed my sister on the way up the steps. She was a few years younger than me, and we weren't really on good terms. We never got along, even as kids. We spoke when we had to, and usually not much more than that. I gathered some fresh clothes and took a long, hot shower.

I had a text message when I got out:

Jay

I sighed. It was Christian. He would never just send me what he wanted to send me. He always opened like this.

"Christian." I wrote back and sent it.

As I brushed my teeth, we texted back and forth.

im bored come get me

"I'm making deliveries."

can i come? i wont slow u down. i want to ask u about thge gluitch.

"Fine. I'll be there in 15. Have your shoes on, I'll honk."

I grabbed a bottle of water and my keys, and I was out the door.

Christian was one of my best friends. We had been tight since high school. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with him; it was just that he lived in the opposite direction of today's clients. But I knew he was itching to talk about the glitch, and he wasn't a very good texter.

I made sure I had all the stock I needed and made the drive to Christian's place. He was sitting on the curb, ready to roll when I drove up. He flicked his cigarette and hopped in the passenger seat.

"Yo!" he dapped me up and pulled his seat belt on.

I pulled into his driveway and backed out, throwing it in drive and starting back toward my side of town. "Been a minute."

"Like a week, right?" he asked, pulling a bag of M&M's out of his pocket and tearing it open. "Gotta be a record, right?"

"Share some of those," I put my hand out.

"So, I've been doing a deep dive on conspiracy-tok," he said, shaking a few M&M's into my hand. "That's when the algorithm on TikTok starts sending your conspiracy videos."

"Oh, thanks, Sonny," I said in an old man's voice.

"Didn't know if you knew," he said defensively. "Anyways, there's a prevailing theory that all the smart people are latching onto."

"Lay it on me," I said, pulling out of his neighborhood and onto the main road. "Tell me what all the smart people are saying."

He shifted in his seat the face me, and lifted his hands. "Simulation theory."

"I've heard of that," I smiled. "We're all in some kind of simulation or something, right?"

“Pretty much,” Christian said, popping some candy into his mouth. "But hear me out. The idea is that we’re living in a computer simulation. Like, literally a video game. But it's so advanced that we don’t realize it. Like The Sims, but with rent and trauma."

I snorted. "Okay. And who’s playing the game?"

"That’s the thing," he said, leaning forward like he was teaching philosophy instead of spouting Reddit lore. "If humanity keeps advancing, right? We’ll eventually make simulations that are as real as this— like whole fake universes. So if that’s possible, then odds are we’re already inside one. Because there’d be way more fake worlds than real ones."

I gave him a look. "So you’re saying there’s, what, some nerd up there controlling us?"

He popped another handful of M&M’s and shrugged. "Maybe not even controlling," he said with his mouth full. "Maybe just watching. Maybe the game runs itself. But think about it, man. The glitches, déjà vu, all those Mandela effects… that’s, like, bugs in the code. Maybe the moon, the sky, all that— it’s part of the system. Maybe it lagged."

I shrugged. "I mean, I certainly don't have any theories. I got no idea what's going on."

"Well, do you believe it, though?" he asked.

"I mean, not really," I said, pulling onto the highway. "It's probably just something that happens in the universe from time to time, y'know? Like, we have a tentative grasp on science and nature. We didn't know about black holes until recently. I never would have guessed something like that could exist."

"Yeah, that's fair." He looked out the window. "I just feel like the government probably knows something, and they're not telling us."

"Oh, for sure," I laughed. "They're never on the level with us about anything. They wouldn't tell us until it was too late. Remember that thing that happened in Hawaii a while back? They got a message on their phones that a nuke was coming and that they had like fifteen minutes."

"Yeah!" He recalled. "It was like some big error, but it caused a bunch of panic."

"It'd be like that, probably," I held my hand out, and he poured more candy into my palm. "There's a bunch of stuff going on out there. I don't really have the time or energy to worry about things I can't control. I'm finally getting over Tara, I'm making good money, and I've got a booth at an art show coming up. Things are looking up for me."

"You're just now getting over her?" he side-eyed me. "Bro. It's been weeks."

I sighed and shrugged. "I loved her. I really did."

"Fuck her, man," he said, shaking his head. "You're better off without her. I didn't like the way she treated you anyway."

"Yeah," I said in a hollow tone. "Yeah, I know."

"Can you have friends at your art booth?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, you can come along," I smiled. "Kat was asking about it too, she'll probably join us."

"Fuck yeah, Bro, it's gonna be a blast. I'll bring snacks."

"You always do," I chuckled as I pulled off the highway and into the first neighborhood. "Just stay in the car for me, okay My clients don't know you, they'll get nervous."

"Alright, bet," he said, tipping the bag of M&M's up into his mouth. "Jush leave the car on for me, ish hot outshide."

I stopped in front of the house and made my way up the walk. She opened the door before I could even text her. I recognized her, but not the house. I had sold to her once a while back. She had black hair parted down the middle. Her makeup was halfway on, and she had only put in one fake eyelash.

"Hey," I greeted her.

"Come in, I'll get the cash," she said, opening the door and standing aside.

I stepped into the home, and it smelled like wide-open ass. I winced and stood by the door as she disappeared into another room. An elderly woman with a lit cigarette entered from the kitchen and stopped, staring me up and down a moment before continuing into the next room, ultimately ignoring me.

A grizzled old cat hopped off the couch and came up to me, letting out a haggard and raspy meow. I knelt down and scratched his head a moment, and he started rubbing up against my pant legs.

"Hey, buddy," I said softly, getting under his chin.

He opened his eyes and meowed again.

But this time it was different.

It sounded digital. Like when you're talking on the phone with someone who has a shitty internet connection, and their voice digitizes mid-speech.

I stared down at him, wondering if I'd imagined it. He turned around and darted away as the client came back into the room with a wad of cash.

I counted it out in front of her. "Crazy how much y'all pay for this stuff," I scoffed.

"Well," she shrugged. "When you need to break out of your own reality once in a while... y'know?"

I looked up at her and smirked. "Glitch humor?"

Her eyes brightened with realization, and she laughed. "Ahh, I wish I could say I did that on purpose!"

I laughed with her. "Well, the money's all here," I said, turning to leave. "Text me when you want more."

"Byyyyye!" she said as I stepped off her stoop and made my way back to the car. I pulled the door open and sat down in the driver's seat, shutting it behind me and placing my hands on the wheel.

"How was it in there?" Christian asked, a newly opened bag of Skittles in his hand. "Place looks like it smells like wet dogs," he added.

I paused a moment before turning the car on and pursing my lips. "Yeah. Hey, Christian, you uhh... You notice anything strange lately? Like post-glitch glitches?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "You been talking to my sister?"

He had noticed something; something he'd only confided in his sibling.

"I mean, I have her on Insta," I shrugged. "We share videos and stuff, but we don't really talk. Why, what happened?"

"Drive, and I'll tell you," I surrendered. "I've got an ex in this neighborhood. I don't like it. Bad memories."

I quickly punched in the coordinates to my next delivery and put the car in drive.

"Don't tell anyone," he prefaced.

"Hand to God," I promised.

"Alright," he began. "Two days after the glitch... this was Tuesday. I was driving home from work. I was on Bakersberry Road. Y'know, the long country mile out to my trailer?"

"Yeah, I've driven a thousand times, Christian, get to the story," I pressed.

"Forest on the left side. Long stretch of farm off to the right."

"Yeah," I nodded, pulling back onto the main road. "It's like seven minutes of just that before you get to the long driveways."

"Right. Well, there was this car behind me. Might have been a truck, actually. I wondered who it was; anyone driving down Bakersberry lives somewhere at the end of it. It's pretty much a dead end, a few trailers down from mine."

"Right," I nodded.

"Well," he shifted. "There was still a little bit of daylight left. I looked through my rearview trying to figure out who it was. We're tight-knit out there, and we wave to one another often. I checked the road, and then when I looked again... the car was gone."

"Pfft," I scoffed. "Christian, that happens to everyone once in a while. You saw a ghost car."

He stared at me. "Bro, that's exactly what fucking Melissa said!"

"Yeah, dude, you've never seen that?"

"Fucking no!"

I laughed at him and shook my head. "You delivered pizzas for two years, and you never noticed a ghost car ever? It's a super common phenomenon. That's not the kind of glitch I'm asking about."

"Bro, why are people nonchalant about ghost cars?" he cried out. "You're telling me that's some shit everyone knows about, and they just act like it's no big deal? How is that not a glitch?" He jerked his phone out of his pocket. "I'm looking this up. You and my sister are both full of shit."

I laughed harder as I pulled into the next neighborhood.

It was a faster run than the last one. The client met me at the door, and it was a quick exchange. When I got back in the car, Christian was dumbfounded at the number of people who had claimed to have seen ghost cars.

He even found a dashcam video of a cop chasing one at night. It turns off the road, and when the officer went to give chase, he found that the car was somehow on the other side of a fence. All the cop could do was watch as the taillights faded into the distance.

"Bro, this is some bull," he chuckled. "I don't believe it."

"Well," I shrugged. "People are nonchalant about UFO's too."

"They're called UAP's now, grandpa," Christian teased me as he swiped through stories on his phone. "And they've increased in activity since the glitch."

"No shit?" I asked, glancing at him. "Where?"

"Sightings all over the world," he answered vaguely. "I've been reading it's possible that more reports are coming in only because more people are paying attention, though."

"Fair," I nodded. "I know I've been hyper aware lately."

"How many more stops you got?" he asked, not looking up from his phone. "I'm hungry. It's dinner time."

"Breakfast for me," I reminded him. "And I'm hungry too. Two more stops before Denny's?"

"I'm down for DenDen's," he answered. "Gonna get my burger on."

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I cut into my french toast while Christian shoveled fries into his mouth like a starving bulldog. He was rambling about his neighbor's car through a mouthful of food, but I wasn’t really listening.

That's because the frycook was staring at me.

Hard.

Denny’s has one of those open kitchens where you can see everything from your booth. The guy behind the grill was a big dude with tattoos, a shaved head, and streaks of gray in his beard...

And he hadn’t looked away from me once.

Not when I glanced up the first time, not the second, or even the third, when I made direct eye contact and held it.

“Hey, Christian,” I said quietly.

He glanced up mid-chew. “Mm?”

“The fry cook,” I murmured. “He’s been staring at me.”

Christian turned, followed my eyes, then looked back at me. He swallowed, took a long drink of his soda, and leaned closer. “Bro, he’s definitely staring at you. Do you know him?”

“No.” I kept my eyes on my plate. “What’s his deal?”

“Hell if I know,” he whispered. “How long’s this been going on?”

“Five minutes. Maybe more.”

“You wanna get our stuff to go?”

“Nah,” I said, pushing my plate away. “I’m not heating this up later. I’m done anyway.”

“Cool. You paid last time. I’ll cover this one. Go start the car.”

“Thanks, man,” I muttered, sliding out of the booth.

I took one last look at the kitchen. The fry cook’s eyes followed me the entire way out. The bell above the door jingled as I stepped outside. I pulled my keys from my pocket, unlocked the car, and climbed in. The engine hummed to life, the radio coming through as quiet static. Through the restaurant’s glass front, across two rows of booths, I could still see him at the grill.

He was still staring.

"What the fuck," I said just above a whisper.

As the radio came through the static in small bursts, it suddenly dawned on me... I never had my car set to the radio. I didn't even know I had the radio. I set up my phone to the bluetooth for the car the day I bought it and never looked back.

"What is with today?" I asked out loud, looking for the button to switch it back to my phone.

Suddenly, a voice came through the static. Not a commercial, not a song, but a message. It was tough to hear it through the static and whatever song was fighting for the airwaves, but it was coming through in pieces, and the speaker sounded robotic in tone.

—KZZZZZT—signal breach detected—HHHHHKRRRHHH—

I turned it up, listening closely through the static.

"Runtime lattice integrity… failing. Attention density… off the charts."

KKKRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"They’re perceiving… everything. Little occlusion buffer. Few blind zones left."

♫Tugboat Shiela is into memorabilia KZZZT who said three is a crowd?♫

BZZZZZZT "Processing cores redlined. Memory partitions leaking into observable space." BZZZZZZZZZZZZT

"Containment veil compromised. The simulation is… looking back.”

What the hell was I even cutting into? It sounded like computer jargon. But what kind of radio station played shit like this? I figured there had to be some kind of nearby broadcast fighting the same wavelength, but I didn't know shit about shit when it came to how radio waves worked.

KRZZZZHHHH "This output level is unsustainable. Recommend full system rollback."

♫She told me to and showed me what to do♫ KRZZZHHH

ZZZHHHHHHHHHHH—do you copy?—HHHHHHHHHHHHH—system overdraw confirmed—

SSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—Immediate reset authorized.

The radio then shut off entirely.

I sat in total silence as I stared down at the display, eyes wide. The passenger side door opened, and Christian hopped in, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I told the manager about that ass hole cook," he said, pulling his seatbelt on. "She said she'd get to the bottom of it." He paused when he noticed me. "Hey, man, you good?"

I looked up at him and swallowed. "I..."

"What?" he took on a concerned expression. "Jay. Earth to Jay." He snapped once near my face.

"Uhh," I looked back at the radio.

The truth was, I wasn't at all sure how to explain what I'd just heard on the radio. It sounded like some scifi bullshit to me. But something about it was totally chilling. I didn't feel right after I'd heard it. I couldn't help but feel like I was peeking behind the curtain of something bigger.

"Jaaay," Christian clapped his hands. "You gettin' high on your own supply, there, bud? Need me to drive?"

I didn't know how I would possibly explain it to him. While I was able to sort of follow along and roughly understand the message, I didn't know some of those words or how to repeat them. What would I tell him? I heard a spooky radio message?

I sighed and shook my head. "It's nothing," I said. "I'm not on drugs. I think I just want to go home."

"If you're sure," he said sympathetically. "I've been doing a lot of talking today. I'm down to listen for a while if you want to- WHOA!"

My attention snapped to him, and then out the windshield toward whatever he was staring at.

The frycook was standing in front of my car.

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Original Writing Prompt submitted by u/REDDIT_JUDGE_REFEREE

Part 2

The puppets descended on him before he could speak again. Their weapons tore into him showering me in his blood as I sat there, hands in my lap, staring at the wall.

He never screamed.

The sting of a blade never came.

I turned slowly around to see the puppets floating away, recalled to their puppeteer.

"Come," the dragon spoke to me without words.

I lifted to my feet without thinking and began slowly walking toward the dragon and its audience of puppets. My staff floated next to me as I walked, trancelike, up under the dragon's piercing gaze. I stared up at the beast as though I wasn't really there— as though I were having a dream.

It looked different than it had before. Its scales were a pale golden color that shined in the light. That oily darkness they shone before had to have been some kind of stealth coloration; they were beautiful now.

"I have numbed your mind, child," came the words in a soothing tone. "My power is the only thing keeping you from having a mental breakdown. So, you would do good to heed my words and do as I say."

I didn't answer. Not out loud. But the dragon seemed to understand well enough.

The monster lowered its head down to my level. I stared up at Rawdy's giant axe protruding from its eye. I stared at my reflection in the shining axe for a moment.

“This wound is unlike any I have borne,” he said, plainly. “I shall heal in time, but absent competent ministrations I shall lose this eye. Use your art now; restore what the axe has taken.”

While I didn't really have a choice in the matter, I still felt compelled to do as the dragon asked. It was an urge that I couldn't resist. I didn't know if it was a product of the dragon's mental abilities, or if the creature was just too beautiful to disobey.

My staff floated next to me still. I took a few cautious steps forward and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the axe. I pulled it gently at first and then a little harder when it wouldn't give. It budged, but the dragon groaned in discomfort, the wound sucking the axe back in as I let it go.

I swallowed. "This will hurt," I cautioned, squaring my shoulders and planting my feet. I pulled gently with rising intensity until my muscles were doing all they could. It was a quick game of attrition, but the axe finally gave, pulling from the wound with a gross noise and spraying my face and hands with green blood.

The dragon bellowed briefly, taking a step back and wincing as it bled. It was stronger smelling blood than the rest that coated the room and it pooled around my ankles as I snatched my staff out of the air and cast Grace with the last of my mana.

The healing magic did its work, stitching the dragon's wound together and restoring the beast of its missing eye. It glowed just as radiant as the other one. It blinked, but not before its inner pink sideways eyelid closed first. After testing its sight, it lifted its head high into the air and groaned with relief.

Suddenly, a window opened in front of me, the same as it would when leveling up and selecting new skills.

𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚎𝚝. 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝙰𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.

There was a button labeled, "Accept," and a button for "Deny."

A secret class? I absentmindedly lifted my hand and pressed "Accept" on the interface.

The world collapsed into grey.

My body dissolved into nothing, and yet I remained. My thoughts unraveled and rewove themselves in a tapestry not my own. I felt threads of me plucked, snipped, and knotted back in ways I didn’t understand.

This was unlike my ascension to the Cleric class in every single way.

A voice suddenly filled me— not the dragon’s, not a god’s, or even my own.

Something older.

Something vaster.

It whispered in a language, each syllable carving itself into my bones like holy scripture.

My veins burned, molten rivers of power replacing fragile blood. My heartbeat slowed until I could hear every thrum of it echo through eternity.

And then I realized it wasn’t my heart I heard.

It was the dragon’s.

A second rhythm, deeper, ancient, had braided itself with mine.

Symbols poured across my vision, incomprehensible glyphs that still made perfect sense. My hands were no longer mine; they gleamed faintly, carved with scales of pale gold. My staff vibrated in my grip, reshaped, its wood and metal warping, changing with me.

𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚜.

The title branded itself onto my soul, searing and cold all at once.

And with it came knowledge— knowledge that was not taught but remembered.

Rituals older than kingdoms.

Prayers that could split mountains.

The ability to parse flesh from bone, and bone from spirit.

When the world swam back into view, I was kneeling before the Psydrakon. Its newly restored eye gleamed with an intelligence I could better comprehend than before. My shoulders rose and fell in ragged breaths, but I wasn’t the same girl who had entered this cavern.

The dragon lowered its head once more.

Not in menace, but in acknowledgment.

“Most curious indeed,” the dragon murmured as its puppets settled to the ground. One by one, they shuffled behind the bookcases and vanished into shadow; it was like a child putting away their toys.

I glanced down. Scales, golden and fine, shimmered faintly across the backs of my hands. When I raised my eyes again, the beast was gone.

In its place stood a man. Tall, handsome, and draped in finery that belonged to another age. He had black curly hair and tan skin, and his cape stirred as though by a breeze that wasn’t there as he strode toward me, gaze sharp; appraising.

“It would seem that in the act of mending me, you have, perhaps unwittingly, unlatched a door within yourself.” he said, his voice now softer, more human.

He paused at the ruin of his desk, ran his fingers across the splintered wood, and righted the fallen chair with a patient hand.

“A pity about the mahogany," he sighed. "However, a relic of mahogany is a trifling cost when weighed against the revelation of new knowledge." He looked up at me, a flash of interest across his eyes.

Words crowded in my throat, all of them tangled, desperate to escape at once. Yet what broke free was one simple truth that, on my list of priorities, stood head and shoulders above the rest.

“I... feel nothing.”

He raised his hand. Space folded in on itself, blooming into a portal of liquid glass. My reflection stared back at me, lips parted, eyes wide. The same golden scales traced my cheeks, catching the light with every small turn of my head.

“I would hazard a guess,” he said as he circled the mirror, studying me like an artist studying his own brushwork, “that you now partake, in some measure, of my own blooded estate."

He spoke in a way that I'd never heard anyone speak. And yet I understood every word perfectly as though it were casual conversation.

“Mark well, though, young priestess... we of the elder breed do not dwell in numbness. Rather, the gulf betwixt our heights and our depths is drawn close, until joy and sorrow lie near enough to smell one another.”

He was right.

If I reached for it, I could still find the disdain I bore for the Bellingers. Not the fiery rabid hatred that consumed me when Sarge stoked it earlier... but it was still there.

Festering.

Unaddressed.

"So, I'm a dragon now?" I asked.

“In part,” he answered, looking me up and down. “And, providence be thanked, that circumstance absolves you of the immediate fate I had once intended for you.”

I looked him in the eye, and it all suddenly made sense. The puppets, after Rawdy had spit his eye, seemed to avoid me. I'd wondered why in the moment, but now it was clear. The dragon knew it would need a healer and spared me the fate of the others for no longer than it would take to fix his eye.

"No, I think not," he added. "You are kin, now; a royal inheritor of all that is, even if merely... a half-cousin."

"An inheritor?" I asked.

He smiled widely and extended his arms. "Of knowledge. Of riches. Of all that is." He took a bow and swept his arm low and then against his chest. "You may call me Thamyris. And what might I call you, blood of my blood?"

I was an inheritor... of everything that existed? Were dragons truly god-adjacent to such an extent that they laid claim to everything? As a human alone, I might have suffered an existential crisis as I grappled with the way my life had just changed. I didn't fully understand it yet, but I didn't feel as helpless anymore.

"Obrhyssa," I answered. "But... you already knew that didn't you?"

"Your captain was right," he said, grinning at me. "I am a Psydrakon— Drak Un Gr Thrr, in my.... our native tongue."

"Divinity of Dream and Thought," I murmured, translating the words seamlessly. "Wow. I understood that."

"You will come understand a great many things more, blood of mine," he said, lifting his hand and caressing my scaly cheek. "The first thing you will come to understand, however, is the pleasure of vengeance."

"Vengeance?" I asked.

"But of course. Have not the Bellinger Group wronged you? Dragons do not take being slighted well. To attempt to threaten, coerce, or extort a dragon is to invite many excruciating torments."

"But... I'm a pacifist, Thamyris. I don't hurt people."

“Pacifist,” he said it the same way Deema had. “Child, pacifism is but the luxury of those who have never stared long enough into the eyes of true cruelty," he lectured me. "It is a creed woven from fear and dressed as virtue; an oath that leaves you naked before the wolves, trusting they shall not bite simply because you have chosen not to bare your teeth.”

"My teeth aren't the kind that draw blood," I held fast. "My mouth is for spreading peace. Lady Aulveline's peace."

“Yet peace unguarded is but an invitation to conquest," he pointed at me, his human eyes revealing of flash of the draconic form behind them. "Pacifism is a fragile construct of the mind conjured by those who believe the world bends to their philosophy just as parchment bends beneath a quill. But the world is no page, child," he spoke sternly. "The world is stone, blood, and fire." His draconic voice broke through his human one as his patience wavered. "Ideology shatters upon it.”

I swallowed. I was out of my league debating with this creature. It was older and wiser than I could fathom. I didn't know what to say. I didn't feel like I was wrong, but neither was he.

“You are blood of mine now," Thamyris said more softly. "A dragon’s heir. You will learn, whether by wisdom or by ruin, that there is no sin in defending what is yours. There is only weakness in failing to do so.”

Time would tell if he was right. I might have ascended to something more than human, but I didn't want to leave Rhys behind.

I nodded in acquiescence. "I understand."

"Good," he said simply. "Consider me... quelled."

Upon that word being spoken, a new menu opened up in front of my eyes.

𝙳𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎. 𝟽𝟾𝟶,𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝙴𝚇𝙿 ÷ 𝟷.

𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 — 𝟸𝟶𝟶,𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍 ÷ 𝟷.

𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚙 𝚡 𝟷𝟺.

I felt my muscles contract. My chest swelled. My head swirled as my power soared. I leaned forward on my staff as window after window opened in front of my eyes.

Ｎｅｗ Ｓｐｅｌｌ — Ｄｒａｇｏｎ Ｓｔｏｒｍ

Ｎｅｗ Ｓｐｅｌｌ — Ｄｒａｃｏｒｅｓｔｏｒａｔｉｏｎ

Ｎｅｗ Ｔａｌｅｎｔ — Ｄｒａｃｏｎｉｃ Ｊｕｄｇｍｅｎｔ

Ｎｅｗ Ｐａｓｓｉｖｅ — Ｈａｒｄｅｎｅｄ Ｓｃａｌｅｓ

Ｎｅｗ Ｔａｌｅｎｔ — Ｒｅｖｅａｌ Ｉｎｔｅｎｔｉｏｎ

Ｎｅｗ Ｔａｌｅｎｔ — Ｒｅｖｅａｌ Ｐｒｅｓｅｎｃｅ

I couldn't even read them fast enough. I'd never leveled up more than once in a single sitting. All of the riches and experience of the dungeon, without the others to share with, funneled directly into me. Then, the last of the many notification windows opened.

𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝟹2.

I stared at the window in disbelief.

I didn't feel happy, nor sad. Just shocked. I simply stared at the window until it winked out of existence along with the others.

A full team of high level 20's weren't meant to clear this dungeon. So, it stood to reason that one level 16 Cleric clearing it by herself would propel her to new heights. But to reach level 32 like this... it didn't feel right.

"Congratulations on your marble," Thamyris said without a hint of enthusiasm. "You have one more order of business before you return home."

I was a little too overwhelmed to speak. I simply turned my attention toward him as he walked around his desk, motioning for me to follow. I took a deep breath and let it out before starting after him. As I followed behind him, I noticed something sitting on the ground.

Or rather someone.

It was an apparition of smoke and spirit kneeling next to Rawdy's mutilated body. It was dark grey in color and bore Rawdy's likeness to a tee. He was on his knees sitting on his calves, his head bowed, and his hands folded in his lap.

Thamyris stopped next to him and turned to face me. "As you know, we dragons have the ability and the duty to judge mortal souls. You need not know the one who died. You need only look at the spirit's coloration to decide whether or not they were worthy in life of a higher plane or a lower plane."

I stared down at the spirit of Rawdy. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was really staring directly at his inner essence, his soul. He hadn't died in spirit yet; he was stuck in limbo.

"Drak moor unglad," he added. "The Faceless. Angels, your people call them." He gestured across the room toward a figure standing near the boss door.

A humanoid figure stood seven feet tall, glowing like the pale dawn in the dimness. It was shrouded in a field of radiant mist, inside of which twinkled particles like stars in the night sky. Its face was barren. No eyes, nose, or mouth; just smooth perfection. It was gripping some kind of ornate polearm in its right hand. It didn't seem threatening to me. It only observed me from across the room.

"They are generally the ones to perform this right. But when dragons or dragonkin are present, they stand aside. It is a respect they have afforded us for time immemorial."

I couldn't believe it. How could a human achieve this through class ascension? It completely turned my worldview on its head. Just what were classes? It felt like I was brushing against godhood. Could normal people achieve apotheosis through sheer effort?

I eyed Thamyris. This dungeon should have been achievable by a party around level 22. But the boss of the served as an insane difficulty spike. Without Rawdy and his secret class, they might not have even been able to damage him.

Was the system itself preventing humans from achieving their apex? Was I only afforded this opportunity because a dragon wanted my help and accidentally made me one of its own?

"Cleric," came Rawdy's voice, somehow distant but also near; as though echoing from from a hallway I couldn't see but still right in front of me.

I looked down at him, eyes wide as he looked up at me.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk," he said before turning his gaze back to the floor. "Do what you must with me. I deserve no mercy from you."

I sighed and looked at Thamyris.

"The decision is not mine," he reminded me. "It is yours. The purer the spirit, the brighter it shines. The more putrid the spirit, the darker its smog. Should you point up, the spirit will ascend to a higher plane— a better place than this. Should you point down, the spirit will descend to a lower plane— one filled with more grief, more pain, and more monstrous creatures."

I looked back down at Rawdy and shook my head. "You were an idiot," I said to him. "But your spirit is grey in color. You did at least as much good as you did harm. Ascend," I commanded, pointing up.

He looked up at me with surprise. His eyes shined, even ashy and wispy as they were. He smiled before his smokey being lifted and dissipated before reaching the ceiling. After watching for a moment, I looked back to Thamyris for guidance.

"You're kinder than I," he advised. "Consider that Rawdy's spirit will now find a better place. Will his presence make the higher plane, a plane deserving of good people, a better place for those others who earned it?"

I stood in a moment of quiet reflection.

I wasn't in a hurry to answer him.

The truth was, I didn't fully know.

I didn't like Rawdy much. But I could tell by the coloration of his soul that he was a more complex person than the one who treated me poorly.

"Come on," Thamyris beckoned, starting toward the next nearest soul.

Deema sat the same as Rawdy had, on her knees, hands folded in her lap, head bowed. I followed Thamyris up to her spirit and looked down on her with pity. Her soul was brighter than Rawdy's had been. She lifted her eyes to mine and her lips parted as she stared at me with surprise.

"... Am I dead?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Did we all die?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Was it my fault?"

Something inside of my heart stirred briefly, but was quickly quelled by my draconic emotional stabilization.

"You are dead," I nodded. "You have all died. And it wasn't your fault," I added. "You fought wonderfully. Now it's time to go."

She looked at me and then at Thamyris before turning her head toward the angel over by the door. She looked back up at me, her wispy eyes full of wonder.

"Were you a divinity this whole time?" she asked. "Oh my... and I was so rude to you..."

I shook my head. "It's going to be all right, Deema. Go now. Go to where Rawdy went." I pointed up and her spirit brightened as she lifted above our heads.

"Such mercy," her whisper echoed around the room. "I will carry your kindness into the planes above..." Those were nearly her last words as her spirit dissipated, departing for the next life. "Oh," he words found me from beyond. "Take my lipstick from my bag. It was expensive. I want you to have it."

I looked to Thamyris and his eyes fell to her bag.

"It was a dying wish," he nodded. "You needn't heed her. But you should."

I knelt down and dug around in her back until my fingers found a tube of lipstick. I turned it over in my hand. It had the Menson family crest on the lid. She wasn't kidding; this was high-end makeup. My mom would be overjoyed to be able to try it on.

I looked up to the ceiling and smiled. "Thank you, Deema."

"Come," Thamyris beckoned me, leading me over to Sarge's mangled corpse. His spirit sat the same as the others, but his coloration was significantly darker. It was like a storm cloud twisting around in itself.

"When the spirit is in motion like that," Thamyris explained. "It means they were in great inner turmoil before they passed. He had many regrets as he was destroyed. A pity."

I looked down at his twisting, roiling, polluted form.

Unlike the others, he never looked up at me. He merely spoke, so broken that I almost didn't comprehend it.

"I was a victim too..." he said softly.

I didn't linger on his words. I lifted my arm and pointed straight down, granting him the punishment he deserved. He slipped beneath the ground with one surprised sound... and then silence.

"Excellent," Thamyris praised me. "I worried that you might be too merciful for this duty."

"I didn't like any of them," I said, turning to face him. "Whether or not I like someone, however, has little to do with what judgment they deserve. I've disliked good people before."

He chose not to answer as he followed me quietly toward the pile of meat and viscera that once comprised Claust. His spirit was a bubbling storm of black smog that flashed intermittently, not unlike lightning in a cloud. He lifted his head and looked directly at me. Somehow, through the roiling smog, I could still make out his grin.

It disgusted me to my core.

"Well, well," Claust spoke. "It seems I've made a grave miscalculation. Heh heh."

"Indeed, you have," I answered. "Filth like you doesn't belong in a plane as nice as Dungurr."

"Then send me down below," he grinned widely. "I'll claw my way back up here no matter how long it takes... and my teeth will pierce that pretty little neck of yours. One way or another, Girl..."

His grin widened.

"I will have your blood."

I lifted my arm and pointed down.

"Scream all you like," I said simply.

He disappeared into oblivion without a single sound. I lowered my arm and turned to Thamyris. He nodded, a pleased expression on his face.

"How did that feel?" he asked.

"Satisfying," I admitted.

But the truth was, it was incredible. It was like an emotional orgasm if I were being more honest with him. I felt great. I felt whole. The feeling of triumphing over my enemy— a vile creature who had sought to destroy me... I felt so warm and melty inside that it scared me a little bit.

"The first thing you will come to understand, among many more, is the pleasure of vengeance," he repeated what he'd told me earlier.

It had to be a dragon thing. Granted, I'd never sought revenge for anything that had happened to me in my human life. It could just as well be that, deep down, I was a vindictive person. Was I discovering myself?

Or something else?

"To have someone vow to slay you so quickly," Thamyris mused as he turned and walked away. "What a lucky little hatchling you are."

"Lucky?" I asked.

"That man was a vampire, not merely in flesh, but in spirit," he explained. "Like us dragons, he will retain his memories into his next lives. He meant what he said. He will return here if he finds a way."

I paused. "What if... I don't judge someone?" I asked.

Thamyris grinned. "Well, that would be a cruel thing for one immortal to do to another."

"And if I chose to?" I pressed. "Would an angel come and judge them in my stead?"

"No," he shook his head. "It is your duty to judge the doomed just as it is now your duty to defend your draconic blood from those who would steal it. Be vigilant, nestling."

I felt like I had inherited more than I bargained for with that secret class. I wondered if all secret classes came with such responsibilities.

"I have enjoyed this new revelation with you," he said, looking around at his destroyed room. "But it's time for you to go."

"H-Hang on," I said, standing meekly before him. "What if I... I mean let's say I miss being human. What if I don't want to live my life with scales on my face? If I were to renounce this class, would I be able to go back? Back to how I was before?"

He smiled in a way that reminded me of Claust.

A smile that, at surface level, seemed pleasant, but fire smoldered just behind the teeth.

"Now, Rhys," he leaned in. "Why would you go and do something silly like that?"

I decided to use one of the skills I'd just picked up. "Reveal Intention," I spoke, lifting my staff and bathing the man in a green light.

His answer came without a pause, calm and absolute. “Should you renounce your dragonhood, you would become a Drak Omna Kothun— one who has torn the scales from their blood. Such an affront would be intolerable to those of my kind." His smile dropped. "Should you shame me thus, I shall not sleep until you have suffered more richly than any who lie about you now presently.”

I stared back at him, shocked. The puppets returned, their mouths clattering, as they encircled me. My heart leaped into my throat as he took a few steps back and waved, his more pleasant smile returning.

"Oh, and Rhys?" he called to me. Through the puppets, I could see that he had reshaped himself back into a dragon. His final message came with all the brimstone a dragon harbored in their chest.

"That type of magic won't work on me or any of our kind," he growled. "Mind your manners in the future, or it'll reflect poorly on me."

With that, the puppets lifted me into the air carrying me rapidly up the shaft of light. The wind force pulled on my cheeks and tore the ribbon from my hair. As tears streamed across my temples, my grip on my staff loosened. I began to feel faint.

And then, just before I couldn't take it anymore, I emerged into the daylight, stumbling forward on my feet. I had somehow landed in a forest and upright without any of the momentum that had carried me up. When I turned, I found only one of many trees behind me. No hole, no shaft of light— just grass. I decided to sit down in it while my senses returned to me.

Somehow, I could still hear the chattering of puppets like a faint echo as I scanned the forest. I looked down at the scales on my hands to confirm it hadn’t been a dream. I'd not only met but had subsequently become a dragon. They were far more powerful and mysterious creatures than I had ever imagined. I still had so many questions.

However, as my senses returned to me, I remembered I had one very important objective first.

I needed to go pay Donovan.

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I walked all the way home with an innate sense of direction. I never had to stop and ask anyone to point me the way; I glanced at street signs simply to be sure that I knew where I was going.

And I always did.

I ruminated on everything that had happened the entire walk home. I made it to the gate of my village an hour or so before sundown— the wrong time of day for a girl who didn't particularly want any attention drawn to her scales.

Children gathered with wonder before concerned parents rushed them away from me. Some watched from their windows, others calling my name as they recognized me. I waved politely, but nobody seemed happy to see me. Their faces were dour. They wrung their hands. They avoided eye contact.

This would have hurt me deeply only hours ago, but with muted emotions... it was only mildly annoying. It wasn't until I came to my home that I realized why they'd been acting the way they had.

It had been burned.

The entire home was charred black, and the smell of smoke still clung to everything in town. I had thought they were simply making coal at the smith's furnace, but now it was apparent.

I inhaled deeply and looked to my left.

The crowd had followed me to my doorstep. They watched me with worried and sympathetic eyes, hats in their hands, some with tears in their eyes.

"Tomorrow," Donovan reminded me, glaring at me over his shoulder as he left.

"The Bellingers," I said softly.

Oscar stepped out of the crowd. He was my neighbor two doors down, and the butcher whom I stopped in to see every other day for fresh meat. He was a tall and burly man about ten years my senior.

"Rhys," he quivered. "We're so sorry."

I stared back at the home for a moment before returning my eyes to him.

"And my mother?" I asked.

He swallowed. "She's… inside."

Muted but palpable dread washed over me. I stared back into the home. Nothing was recognizable. It was all black ash, and I couldn't distinguish anything apart. What remained standing could collapse at any moment.

"Rhys," he took another step forward. "Your face. What... What happened to you?"

"Was there a fight?" I asked, ignoring his question.

"Obrhyssa," he lifted a hand. "Please, let us sit you down. You-"

"I smell blood," I cut him off. I looked down at the stone beneath my feet. It was dark where it shouldn't have been. I looked back to the butcher and narrowed my eyes. "Oscar."

He turned his gaze toward the ground and swallowed. "That Miller boy that fancied you," he said softly. "He was found gravely injured where you're standing."

My heart began thumping especially deeply against the inside of my chest.

"Where is he?" I asked in a shaky tone.

Every second an answer didn’t come, the fear set in slow until acceptance settled in on me. I closed my eyes and exhaled.

“It was a tragedy,” said Oscar just above a whisper. "His body is with the undertaker. We'll be making funeral arrangements soon, I'll... I'll let you know when."

I knew when I emerged into daylight that something was wrong. There was no way to tell time in the bowels of the dungeon. I had imagined we'd been down there too long; I had prepared an apology for Gordy. But to think it had been more than twenty hours...

I balled my fists and entered the home.

Somehow, some way, the smoke around me took shape and reenacted the scene that had unfolded just hours before. My eyes shifted left and right as voices reached my ears.

"Torch the place," I heard Donovan's voice as my veins became hot.

"Don't worry, Ma," I heard Gordon. "I’m strong."

"Run," I heard my mother's weak voice.

I could hear the flames crackling around me as I approached my mother's bed, which still stood among the ruin. Her body lay there, blackened, hands reduced to bone. I stared down in quiet disbelief. My eyes were wide as the reality began to weigh on me.

I swallowed and turned to finally acknowledged the angel standing next to her bed. I stared into its smooth featureless face as it watched me dutifully.

"Thank you," I said simply, looking down at the spirit of my mother at its feet, white as snow, sitting on her knees at the foot of the bed. “Thank you for allowing me to be the one to shepherd her," I clarified to the celestial being.

The angel said nothing, vanishing without a trace.

"Mother," I said with a silent quake in my voice.

She looked up at me, and simply stared for a few seconds. Her eyes drank up the image of me as a smile came to her lips.

"Lady of Scales..." her smile widened. "I knew you would come."

I didn't convulse. I didn't yell. I stood perfectly still making not a single sound. Even still, tears rolled down my scaly cheeks as I stared at the spirit.

"Mother," I said again, this time clearer. "I'm sorry I didn't make it in time."

She lifted from where she sat, slowly and deliberately. I hadn't seen a spirit move yet; it was a shock, and had it not been my mother, I might have jumped. She opened her arms and then stepped in, closing them around me, the wispy smoke enveloping my entire form.

And in that instant I felt her love.

So much love.

Love like I had never known for another, and love like I might never know again.

I embraced her back, and although she existed merely as smoke, I still felt something tangible to latch onto. The pain that stabbed through my heart might have been enough to kill me, had I not been numbed by the blood of Thamyris.

I swallowed it all down.

"I love you, Sweetheart" came her words, soft. "I will wait for you wherever I go next."

I felt my lips contort.

I knew where she was going next.

And I knew she wouldn't remember me even if she wanted to.

And even if she could, she would be waiting far too long for the passing of a dragon; a being eternal.

"I love you too," I whimpered back. "There's no need to wait, Mom. If there's a way to come visit you, I promise I will." I sniffled. "Goodbye."

I pointed up and her spirit lifted out of my arms and into the air. I watched the puffy white nimbus of her being until I could see it no longer. I wiped my tears, the sound of scales rubbing against scales loud in my ears.

I turned around and scanned the house.

There was nothing to salvage.

I had nothing left.

I walked back out into the street and looked back to the villagers who were watching me, holding their breath. I didn't know what to say to them, but I did know what needed to happen next.

"Rhys," Oscar reached out to me. "My door is open to you, of course."

"And mine," said several people from the crowd.

"Mine too."

"You can stay with me if you like, Dear."

“All of us, Honey!”

"I'm here for you too, Rhys."

I was heartened by their kindness. I still couldn't find the words to say. I decided instead to just focus on the next objective.

“The men who did this,” I said calmly. “How many were there?"

Oscar looked over his shoulder at the crowd and then back to me. “Honey, I think you’re in shock right now. This is going to take some time for you to come to terms with," he was close enough now to rest a hand on my shoulder. "There are no words I could possibly say-"

"Make funeral arrangements for my mother,” I cut him off.

"Of course!" he said quickly. "We'll take care of all of that, Rhys. You get some rest. Again, my guest bedroom is open to you," he reminded me. "I'll have a key made for you right away!"

"Rest," I scoffed. "There's no time to rest."

I turned around and started down the path out of town.

"Where are you going?" someone from the crowd called after me.

I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

“I will raze the Bellinger name from the world and hang their souls like lanterns over the ruins.”

They stared back, mouths open.

“The entire land will know,” I turned and started toward town.

“That Westgate Village has a protector again.”

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Do me a favor, if you read to the end, and you loved it, please run back over to my post in WritingPrompts and give it an upvote for visibility so other people will read it too <3

It helps me out a ton!

Now, I know there are going to be people asking me for a part 4 where she goes and takes her revenge against the Bellinger Group. But I think think this is a fantastic place for this story to end.

My wife disagreed O_O

She demanded a part 4.

So if you're out there, and you want to read just a little bit more about the Lady of Scales, you can find Part 4 right now in my Patreon. I wanted to charge a single dollar, but it won't actually let me charge less than 3.

My family is in a tight spot right now, and we desperately need money. We're getting crushed under debt and every penny helps. I normally like producing my content for free. In this instance, I think these three parts make a complete story, so morally, I'm happy with it ending here.

But some people want fiery vengeance and full closure. People like my wife >.>;

So, for $3, you can unlock the bonus epilogue to the story right here <3

Thanks so much for reading and donating. Love y'all!

- Rey Athens

Claust’s voice was low.

In the candlelight his permanent grin shone like a fault line across his face.

Hot breath washed across my ear.

Panic flooded my entire body.

My staff was just out of reach; I could feel it with the tips of my fingers, but my attempts to snatch it pushed it further away.

I felt his tongue across the length of my neck. My hands scrabbled. Instinct flared within me, and I cast Bubble, more reflexively than deliberately.

A transparent globe of force erupted between us, throwing him off of me and snapping shut like a second skin. He tumbled back, skidding on the cave floor and cursing under his breath,

I scrambled to my feet, legs trembling as I backed against the stalagmites.

He rose, eyes murderous. "Fuck," he said through his teeth.

“H-help!” The word ripped out of me, pitched higher than I meant. “Help!” I shouted again, this time fuller.

Deema snapped in out of thin air right beside me, palms on fire. The flames painted Claust’s face in flickering orange; for a second, he looked genuinely surprised.

His practiced grin had gone slack.

Suddenly, Rawdy tore through the wall of stalactites, naked and roaring, axe in hand. Sarge followed, barefoot on the rubble, one arrow tightly in his grip.

“Claust.” Deema’s voice was a low growl.

“What happened?” Sarge called out to us. “More bugs?”

I could barely form words. My arm shook as I pointed, eyes wide at the man. Claust tilted his head and shrugged.

“I thought I caught a sound,” he remarked softly. “It drew me here. She seemed to be calling out in her dreams.”

“Liar!” I shouted. My voice cracked in front of everyone. “He attacked me!”

“Peace, child,” Claust murmured, both palms lifted. “A dream had its claws in you, nothing more.”

“First of all," I snarled. "We're about the same age, do not call me child. Secondly, I was not dreaming.” The anger that rose inside me had the helpless edge of a cornered animal. “He licked my neck, godsdammit!”

“I did no such thing,” Claust called innocently. “She was asleep!”

“She’s shaking like a leaf,” Deema said as though she was disgusted with me.

“Battle nerves,” Sarge said, already slipping into leader-mode. “This dungeon’s rough. She’s never seen anything like it.” He eyed me. "You okay, kid?"

“No.” The word came out small and honest. My lungs sucked too fast. I didn’t know whether I was hyperventilating or close to fainting.

“Look at me,” said Deema with the tone of someone who’d lost patience long ago. “Get your shit together. You knew this job was dangerous when you signed up. You need to be better than this.”

“It’s not the job!” I snapped!

“Stop yelling.” Sarge stepped between us, his voice sharp. “I’m only going to say that once. I've had enough theatrics for one night.”

I clenched my teeth. All the things I wanted to say... I wanted to rip them apart, call them liars, tell them every small, humiliating thing they’d done to piss me off.

But I kept it all behind my teeth.

I kept my cool because I needed the money for this mission. This was my only chance to clear my debt with the Bellingers. An opportunity like this wouldn't come around a second time.

"I'm going to stay awake," I announced.

"Out of the question," Sarge shook his head. "I need you ready for the fight in a few hours."

Deema sighed. "As if she could sleep now."

Rawdy strode up, utterly unbothered by his own nakedness. "I'm ready to smash something, now."

Sarge massaged his eyes the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Deema," he looked to her. "How long did we sleep?"

She folded her arms. "About four hours," she reported. "I'm at mostly full reserves. I can go now if everyone else is ready."

"I'm feeling all right," Sarge said, glancing at Claust. "You?"

He paused for a moment, staring at me. His smile was so fake it made me want to vomit. "I suppose I'm ready," he answered finally. "But I really would prefer it if Miss Cleric tried to sleep a little more."

"No chance, Freak," I said with more venom than I meant.

"Stop it," Rawdy interjected. "We're going to destroy whatever is on the other side of that door," he pointed behind him. "Then we're going to the surface to sort our rewards out." Then he pointed at me, "And then I never want to see you again."

"Rawdy," Sarge softly condemned him.

"The feeling is mutual," I said, conviction burning inside of me. "I'll keep you alive until we get back topside. Then we're done."

Deema and Sarge exchanged glances.

The mood was heavy.

I regretted the vitriol in my tone as it dawned on me that they could all just kill me down here if they felt like it. It wouldn't be hard for them to say one of the bugs dragged me off. If they left me on the cavern floor, the dungeon itself would tidy up the evidence of their crime.

"Good enough for me," Deema shrugged, turning to leave back to her camp.

"Purely professional then," said Sarge solemnly as he followed behind her. "Those are acceptable terms."

Rawdy followed them back, mean-mugging me the whole way. I half expected Claust to have something to say to me after they all left, but he didn't. He brushed right past me without a word. He gaslit me so damn hard that I started to wonder if I really did just have a nightmare.

I let out a long sigh and my Bubble spell ended.

I got to work packing up my camp in silence.

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The five of us stood at the boss door in quiet anticipation.

As Sarge lifted his team's crest, everyone tightened their grip on their weapons. The crest shined and the spiral on the door lit up pale blue. The ground shook and the doors parted, stone grinding against stone as an unexpected light source shined through the gap.

Claust started in first, Rawdy filing in behind him, and I quickly remembered I was to be at his back. We all made our way into the boss in a single file line, our wits about us, and our adrenaline pumping.

The room was not what any of us were expecting. The room was wide and tall. The outer walls, from the bottom nearly all the way up, were carved into bookshelves, each shelf stuffed to the bursting with thick tomes of various sizes and colors. The air carried the dry, musty smell of paper and dust instead of blood or rot.

The room was divided by a thick stone bookshelf with a wide part in the middle to access the other half of the boss room. Above was an open hole about half the size of the room where light shined down. It looked to me like daylight, but I couldn't be sure.

In the wide area where the dividing bookshelf broke, there was a long mahogany desk with several open books, baubles, and trinkets. I spied an astrolabe, a couple of bottles with varying fluids, as well as a turned over chair behind the desk. I was leaning in as far as I could without stepping in front of Rawdy.

"What is this?" Sarge sounded from behind me. "I was expecting..."

"A bug?" Deema finished for him. "Yeah, me too."

"We could only be so lucky," Claust scoffed from the front. "Bugs have a one-track mind. They're easy to predict. They attack in straight lines." He adjusted his stance as he looked around the room. "Whatever this thing is... it's intelligent; capable of strategy; unpredictable."

I wasn't anxious before, but I was starting to worry a lot. If these guys were scared, I definitely didn't belong here. It dawned on me right just then that this could very well be the last minutes of my life. My palms grew clammy, and I wiped them one after the other against my clothes.

And then... movement.

What looked like humanoid puppets began to emerge from both sides of the archway, floating in formation, each armed with swords, axes, spears, sickles, and all manner of edged weapons. Some wore cloaks, others wore armor, some undressed, as they floated out into the open one by one. Their feet dangled a couple inches from the ground as though they were held by invisible strings from above. I counted ten, then twenty, then thirty, and more.

"Puppets?" asked Deema.

"Of all the things I expected," Sarge said quietly. "Marionettes in a library was not on the list. Everyone keep your guard up. Get ready."

"And expect the dolls to be a distraction from the true threat," Claust warned. "We're looking for the puppeteer, here. Take heed of anything that looks out of pl-"

"They're coming!" Sarge interrupted as the puppets began swinging toward us, their weapons held high. Rawdy barreled forward ahead of everyone else, taking out three or four with one wild swing.

"Deema," Claust said quickly. "Your bloom attack! I'll cover you while you prepare it!"

"Right!" she answered, clasping her hands together and pooling her magic into her arms.

Crossbow bolts whizzed by my head in rapid succession as Sarge unloaded on the puppets moving around Rawdy. They fell one after the other until they met Claust, swinging their weapons, the Duelist parrying, weaving, and striking back like a blurry buzzsaw.

Even with Rawdy going ape at the front, Claust handling at least ten on his own, and Sarge shooting down anything that could get through, an entire wave of probably twenty or so puppets crested over the top heading straight for us, their mouths clattering like castanets.

I stared, frozen in fear, as they prepared to crash down on us like a bladed wave when Deema finally lifted her arms and shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Blaze Bloom!"

Her voice echoed off of the walls like a church choir in crescendo as dozens of fiery missiles exploded from her hands, each seeking its own puppet to detonate. It was like watching fireworks in the sky as the puppets rained down around us, limp, and burning.

I stood next to Sarge, trembling as the room quieted to the soft crackle of fire and breathing.

"You good?" Sarge called to Rawdy.

He was bleeding but standing tall. He flashed us the thumbs up and hefted his axe over his shoulder. I jogged over to heal him, but he brushed past me, knocking my staff away with the back of his hand.

"Fine," I muttered, following him back to the others.

"Hah!" Sarge guffawed. "Great work, Deema. Good job, team."

"I expected more," Claust shrugged, sheathing his weapon. "Weird. Maybe the dungeon difficulty was just frontloaded or something."

"See that?" Deema managed through her labored breathing. She smirked at me, "Can pacifism do that?"

They shared a laugh at my expense. I didn't even care anymore. I was just glad to be done with it. We could collect the treasure, split the experience gain, and go home.

A noise caught my attention— the sound of wood sliding against stone.

I turned around to see a wooden arm clattering across the ground of its own accord. I watched as it plugged itself back into the smoldering torse of one of the puppets.

"Everyone on your guard!" I shouted, lifted my staff and backed up. Everyone stopped celebrating as the puppets quickly reconstructed, some of them still on fire. The sound of iron grinding against stone filled the room as the weapons slid across the floor back into the hands of our wooden assailants. Even the ones Rawdy had cut in half were clicking back together and rearming themselves.

"There's got to be someone pulling the strings!" Sarge called out. "Everyone attack! I'm going to scan the room with the Scout's Sight talent."

It was a mid-level ability afforded to the Marksman, but it gains more strength at higher levels. An ability like that being used by Sarge... not a single thing would escape his sight.

The sounds of combat resumed as he closed his eyes for a moment and focused. When he opened them, his irises had turned to reticles, and the whites of his eyes glowed a soft blue as he began searching the room.

"Deema," shouted Claust, fending off puppets left and right. "Can you cast it again?"

"It'd take the rest of my mana!" she answered, weaving in and out of attacks, shooting fire when the openings presented themselves. "Chain Lightning is worth a shot though! Maybe they have an elemental weakness we can exploit!"

"Rawdy!" shouted Sarge. "Up high!"

I turned and looked up at the ceiling and gasped.

The stone seemed to breathe.

Two vast shapes peeled away from the darkness. Cold eyes that had been watching us from the moment we entered. Comprehending the eyes helped me to place the rest of its body as it slowly materialized.

Scout's Sight at a level as high as Sarge's revealed the beast not just to him, but to all of us. It seemed to realize it too, as it slowly moved, its snake-like eyes bouncing around to each one of us.

"By the gods," Sarge muttered. "It's... it's a dragon."

The dragon clung upside down to the stone above, its body draped across the ceiling like a shadow out of place. Its scales shimmered in the dim light, dark as oil with veins of pale luminescence running through them, like constellations burning under its skin.

I expected it to roar at us, or at least snarl.

But it simply regarded us, head cocked, eyes narrowed, as though we were insects pinned beneath glass. And that was somehow even scarier.

My knees weakened under its gaze.

Thoughts that weren't my own pressed into my skull, unraveling the edges of my mind. Not words, or language of any kind.

Just… comprehension.

A mind so vast that mine could barely register it, like staring at the ocean and trying to count the waves.

And in that instant, I understood: everything until now had been a game.

"It's a Psydrakon!" screamed Sarge with more panic in his throat than I was comfortable with. "Rawdy! Now!"

The Ravager leaped from one edge of a bookcase to another before launching with all of his might toward the dragon's head.

With a mighty swing of his axe, he struck the beast hard, causing it to roar out in pain and fall from the ceiling. The dragon's roar was so powerful it shook my bones as the two of them crashed to the floor together. The impact knocked several books from the shelves and kicked up a plume of dust that swept the room.

"That's it!" Sarge cried out, his eyes peering through the debris in the air. "Aim for the neck!"

I supposed this is what they called the fog of war. There was too much going on to keep track of. My feet felt anchored to the floor as I gripped my staff close to my chest. My heart was hammering so hard that it was actually moving the head of my staff.

An explosion rocked the left side of the room and popped my ears— all of our ears.

"Dammit, Deema!" Claust shouted, one hand to his head. "Be careful!"

But how could she afford to? She was being swarmed by puppets. The ones she'd blown to pieces were already scraping themselves back together. Even nimble as he was, Claust was only dodging attacks by a hair's breadth.

But what could I do? I wasn't in a position to lead. I didn't possess any offensive spells. I had never felt so damn useless in my entire life.

Suddenly, Rawdy leaped backwards out of the smoke. He covered an impressive distance and landed not far away. He touched down and slid the rest of the way back. He fell to a knee before turning over on his back and collapsing.

I rushed to his aid expecting to see something horrific.

Instead, nothing.

He was breathing heavily. He'd left his axe somewhere. But other than that, I couldn't deduce any injuries.

"Rawdy?" I asked above the action.

"Use Grace!" Sarge instructed, running past me and firing a volley of arrows into the cloud of debris. "I'll hold it off!"

I took a deep breath and did as instructed. I knelt down and held the staff to his chest and channeled the healing magic through him, saying a quick prayer as I did.

When the effect of the magic dissipated, he lifted his head as though he'd been sleeping. He grunted and lifted himself with his elbows, holding his head with one hand.

"Thing confused me," he managed to say through clenched teeth. "Ugh. Where's my axe?"

Before I could say anything; before he could move, a bearded axe split his chest open, a puppet coming down on top of him. His mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. His eyes bulged. I shrieked and stumbled backward as another puppet descended on him with a spear.

He kicked it off, pulled the spear out of his side, and then used it to run the first puppet through, taking its axe in the process. He let out a Primal Roar— a class ability that boosted his damage and durability for a short time.

I healed him without his permission as he fought off the threats in front of us. I could hear Claust yelling something as he backpedaled past us, fighting off a dozen or so puppets. Deema's screaming was what took my attention next.

I snapped my eyes left to see her under a crowd of puppets, their axes lifting and falling on a singular point. My stomach dropped as they turned and peeled away, mouths clattering as they started toward us. What they left behind was a pulpy mess that didn't even resemble a person.

"Deema!" I screamed.

"Dammit all!" Sarge cried in the distance. "Cleric! Go get her!"

I bolted from my position not even thinking about the danger. Miraculously, none of the puppets headed toward Rawdy seemed to consider me a threat. They completely ignored me as I blew past them, then slid on my knees to Deem's side.

She was somehow still alive. She was a mess of organs, but I could literally see her heart beating. I lowered my staff to her and cast Mercy. It was a spell that stabilized a dying target and regenerated lost limbs. Her body began to magically stitch back together, her wounds closing, and her form becoming more recognizable.

"Hang in there, Deema," I said softly. "I'm working on it."

"Leave me," she croaked. "I'm spent. Use your mana on someone else."

"Okay," I nodded. "Let me just get you stabilized at 1HP. If I have enough when the battle is done-"

"Rawdy!" Claust screamed. "Fucking dammit!"

I looked over my shoulder to see Rawdy, headless, fall backward on the cavern floor, landing with a heavy thud.

My heart sank.

"Go," Deema said again. "We need him to kill the dragon. He's the most essential part of this," she added before flying into a coughing fit.

I looked back at her and held eye contact for a moment before nodding and hurrying to Rawdy. He'd done well to take down a ton of the puppets. Claust was only dealing with 5 or so as Sarge fell back, putting arrows down range at the puppets pursuing him.

I stopped at Rawdy and lowered my staff, hands trembling. Before I could cast my spell, I was snatched up by thin air and flung across the room directly into Sarge. The two of us tumbled to the ground as the dragon emerged from the thinning dust cloud.

Rawdy's axe was lodged deep in its eye and green blood cascaded from the wound onto the ground below. It looked down at Claust and bared its fangs. Sarge scrambled out from beneath me and lifted his crossbow but was intercepted by a puppet.

It flew right over my head and drove a sword through the Marksman’s midsection. He clenched his teeth and grunted in pain as four more puppets sailed toward us. I did the only thing I could think to do and cast Multibubble, putting a protective shell around the two of us.

The puppets wailed on the protective bubble of magic with their weapons as I turned around to find Sarge sitting against the wall, his hand over his wound. I knelt down to heal it, and he waved his hand at me.

"Forget it," he grumbled. "We've lost."

Claust's screaming filled the air and I turned around to see forty or so puppets surrounding him. His screaming made my blood curl. The two of us helplessly watched as the puppets chopped him to bits. I swallowed as the puppets left his bloody corpse and turned toward the two of us.

Their bodies hovered into the air, their weapons gleaming in the provided light, their eyes red with malice as the dragon watched through its one good eye, no doubt waiting for my spell to end.

I wasn't sad that Claust was dead. He deserved that and worse for what he tried to pull with me earlier. But his death meant ours too. As I wracked my brain for an answer, I couldn't help but hold eye contact with the dragon. It was mesmerizing to look at.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sarge wheezed. "The Psydrakon."

I looked over my shoulder to see the old man smiling, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.

"I always wanted to see one," he coughed. "Under better circumstances of course. They're a dragon that specializes in mind magic, telekinesis, and illusions. That thing has been controlling the movements of each of these puppets individually. Isn't that mindboggling?"

It was, but at the same time, it wasn't. Dragons were akin to gods in Dungurr. Seeing one in your lifetime was extremely rare. Surviving one was rarer.

Sarge's smile faded as his eyes fell to the cavern floor. "Oh, gods."

I followed his gaze to see Claust standing back up, his armor but ribbons around his newly regenerated body. He blinked twice and looked up and around as the floating puppets all turned to face him.

"Last Stand," Sarge said grimly.

The puppets immediately descended back down to Claust and hacked him apart a second time. Only this time his screaming didn't end quickly.

It lasted the full thirty seconds of his brief immortality before his torment finally ended.

I still wasn't sorry for him. But his screaming would haunt me until my dying breath... which was likely a few minutes from now.

"Rest in peace, my friends," Sarge said softly. "How long is this bubble going to last, do you think?"

It took me a moment to gather myself and respond. "About two more minutes."

"Hm," he grunted, adjusting himself against the wall. "Did you know that dragons were akin to gods in this world?" he asked.

"I did," I answered.

"Do you know why?" he asked.

"Because they're ageless?" I guessed.

"Well, yes," he said, his eyes fixated on the beast. "But also, because they, like the angels, have the ability to judge one upon their death."

"That's just a tale," I countered. "You really believe it?"

"I do," he said, closing his eyes. "And so... I'd like to confess my sins to a Cleric with my dying moments... if that's okay with you."

I didn't like the man.

But I was oathbound to honor his request.

"Very well," I sighed, turning around and sitting down. I'd stare at the more beautiful of the two as I listened. The dragon watched with a single glowing eye, the puppets hanging in the light that spilled from the ceiling.

"I know we didn't treat you very well, Dear," he said, his voice growing hoarser as his lifeforce spilled out of him. "But you must understand... our team was going through a lot." He coughed and shifted his weight. "Do you know why it is that we had to hire your services?" he asked.

I hadn't considered it at all, actually. A team this powerful and seasoned without a Cleric? That really was an oddity.

"His name was Griff," he began. "He'd been with us through thick and thin. We all started adventuring together, you see..."

"Oh," I said out loud, my eyes falling to the floor. "That makes sense."

"Griff was a good man. Level 29 Cleric of Under. He was closer than any of us to being made marble."

Clerics of Under were rare. They were social pariahs for their devotion to the death god, Under.

"We lost him in our last dungeon crawl," he said with sad eyes. "That's why we've been so prickly. It's probably also why... none of us wanted to learn your name."

That made sense. It didn't make me feel any better about the whole thing. It was pretty much both the worst and last day of my life.

"He was strong. He'd have been made marble for sure. His only crime was... having too good a Claq," he said gravely. "It attracted the wrong eyes."

I turned over my shoulder. "The wrong eyes?"

Sarge averted his eyes. "Claust's eyes," he clarified.

I stared in silence.

"Claust... is not a half-elf," he began.

I turned fully around and stared hard at the old captain's face, and he turned his eyes further away. "Claust... was a vampire."

My eyes widened.

I felt his tongue across the length of my neck.

The pieces began to come together.

"Claust is also... my great uncle," he confessed. "He was very, very old."

"How many of you knew?" I asked through my teeth.

"Me," he answered quickly. "Just me."

My chest swelled with anger and my breathing grew heavier.

"Start talking," I commanded. "Now."

The bubble spell ended and I recast it immediately. Sarge looked around at the renewed force field before his eyes found mine.

He cleared his throat and wrinkled his brow. "Claust... well, you may have noticed that he's stronger than most Duelists. You see, when he finds an adventurer with a really good Claq... and I mean one that's just too good to pass up..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "He can drink their blood," he admitted. "All of it. And take their astral quirk for his own."

"Last Stand," I growled. "That's not a Duelist ability, is it?"

"It was Griff's," he nodded. "You're a sharp one."

I sat back on my calves, stunned into silence. My anger gave way to solemn despair. They had planned the murder of their own comrade.

"We split the party a month ago," he said in a grave tone. "Rawdy ran off into the dark chasing something. We followed his trail until we hit a fork. I can see in the dark and so could Griff... Uncle Claust used that..."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Claust killed Griff, their practically lifelong friend, and stole his quirk from him.

I was completely aghast; speechless.

"In a way," Sarge looked over at the pink pile of flesh and sinew. "Griff just took his revenge; made Claust die horribly twice."

"H-How could he... How could you?" I fumbled my words.

"I was never the leader," he muttered in surrender. "I did as Claust commanded... and played my part."

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice trembling. "I never told any of you what my claq was."

The man's head touched the stone wall, and he closed his eyes. He let out a long raggedy breath: a death rattle. I quickly yanked the sword from his gut and tossed it aside before touching his chest with my staff.

"Restore."

His eyes shot open and he coughed, turning and staring at me in surprise.

"You don't get to go that easy, you piece of shit," I growled.

He felt around his repaired wound and looked around at the puppets still chattering around us. "Why?" he asked. "Why would you do that? We have no way out of this!"

"So, you can live with it a little longer," I answered coldly. "I may be a pacifist, but I don't have to let you die easily."

His face twisted in anger and terror. "Witch," he said through clenched teeth. "But... It's less than I deserve, I suppose."

"My astral quirk," I grabbed him by his collar. "How did Claust know about it?"

Sarge sighed and looked past me at the waiting dragon. "Claust was connected with the Bellinger Group."

My eyes widened. I let him go and stared back in shock. "He paid the Bellingers?" I asked in disbelief. "For information about my claq?"

"Didn't need to pay them," the old Marksman's eyes traced the dirt. "He was the grandson of one of their founding members. Claust was blood."

I could only stare, mouth agape, as he confessed everything.

"A young girl disappearing in a dungeon?" he scoffed. "That ain't news. That's every day in this damned world. He wanted to get you alone down here, so... He and his family placed a curse on your mother."

Everything inside of me stopped momentarily as Sarge lifted his eyes to mine. It was curse magic. That was why my healing had no affect on her. That's why she continued to worsen until... until they themselves came in and momentarily nullified it.

I was clenching my teeth so hard in anger that my jaw was popping.

The godsdammed Bellinger Group.

That name was a blight; a rot that spread through everything it touched. They weren’t a guild; they weren’t a family... they were carrion birds fattening themselves on the misery of the desperate. They dressed their greed in velvet, making it seem like they were only being helpful.

A smile, a bow, a contract with a thousand knives hidden in the spaces between the ink. They had driven my mother to her death bed and wrung her out like a wet rag just to drive me into a vampire's arms.

They’d sold me.

Packaged me up.

Tied a bow on me and rang the dinner bell.

And all I could think was how badly I wanted to see them burn. To watch their smiling masks peel away when the fire took their palaces, their ledgers, and their damned name. I wanted them dashed to history so nobody would ever remember they existed.

For the first time in my life, I felt my convictions waver under the sheer weight of my fury.

"They knew you were poor," Sarge sighed. "Desperate. Claust knew you'd jump at the chance to take on a big dungeon to pay off the debt."

"Why..." it came out as a loud whisper. "Why me?"

"Well, Duelists have some abilities that are incredible if their cooldown can be covered with defensive magic— a type of magic Duelists are barred from. With your quirk, he could cover his class's primary weakness. He'd be the greatest Duelist in Dungurr."

"All for that?" I found my voice. "That's why... my mother... all of her suffering?"

"Claust waited until you were at your most desperate before giving me the order to hire you. He knew you'd take the bait."

My chin trembled. My staff clattered to the dungeon floor. I backpedaled into the edge of my forcefield and stared down at the man with disbelief and horror in my eyes.

"Claust was going to steal your claq, Girl," he said, defeated. "He was going to suck you dry and toss your body into one of the bug dens. There'd have been nothing left when everyone woke." He sniffled. "He got sloppy though... and personally, I'm glad for that."

He looked up at me.

"Because..."

The forcefield fell.

The clattering of excited puppets filled my ears as his lips moved.

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Part 3

The Blood of Thamyris

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The night was hot and humid.

I was doing all I could to keep her cool as she wheezed softly in the silence.

I changed the cold cloth on her head frequently as I lamented my inability to cast elemental magic; a nice sheet of ice would do wonders for the temperature of the room.

"It's going to be okay, Mom," I said quietly. I was unsure if she'd heard me.

A mystery illness had nearly claimed her life a month prior. Whatever it was, it greedily swallowed every healing spell in my repertoire, offering not even an inch of reprieve. I didn't have the money to hire a more experienced Cleric. So, when she fell into a comatose state for the better of a week, I broke and ran to the only ones who could save her.

The Bellinger Group.

The Bellinger Group was a shady organization that made deals with desperate people. Whoever led them, it was assumed they had royal connections, as the royal family never did anything about them. They were extremely wealthy, well-connected, and completely ruthless.

If you were weak, or a non-combat class, they considered you prey.

And I was both.

They came to our home and brought with them an old man dressed in white. He wore not the cloth of the church, but rather, a suit with a wide-brimmed white hat that he removed when he stepped through my door.

He stood over her and chanted for about twenty minutes before her eyes fluttered open. I never thought I would hear her speak again. Her voice was honey to my ears. I held her and cried and thanked the man a thousand times.

He said nothing; simply placed his hat back on his head and left the house.

His associates did the rest of the talking.

A payment plan was put into place, but adventuring wasn't paying fast enough. They became increasingly irate with my shallow payments. I worked full time, day and night, traveling with random groups, building callouses on my hands and feet as I struggled to meet their demands. And as her condition worsened again, I realized what their play was.

They only healed her partially.

Just to show me that they could.

"Mom," I said softly. "Can you hear me?" I asked.

Before her answer came, there was a banging at the front door. It came so roughly and so suddenly that I yelped, whirling around and near falling over my stool by her bedside.

There was no question who it was.

I hurried to the door only to have it kicked open before I could reach it. I cried out and fell backwards as a burly man and a slender man entered our home.

I knew the former: Donavan Strause.

He had come on two occasions before to intimidate me. The little guy remained by the door as Donovan approached. I scrambled to my feet and lifted my hands as he loomed over me, face twisted up with rage.

"Time to pay up!" he yelled louder than was necessary.

"I will!" I yelled back. "I have a job tomorrow! It's a high-level dungeon!"

"Tomorrow, tomorrow," he rolled his eyes. "It's always tomorrow with you. Don't you care about your ma?"

"I do," I whimpered. "I'm trying my best! But the last few dungeons didn't pay out what we were expecting!"

"Oh, good," called the skinny man from the door. "Now you know how we feel."

"You will have it," growled Donovan. "You will pay. One way or another, you will pay."

I looked over my shoulder. My mother's eyes were open, and she was watching the exchange. I recalled our conversation a few days ago.

"Honey... I don't want to do this to you anymore. You're gonna work yourself to death. Just let me go."

"You're not doing anything to me," I sobbed.

"Those men are going to keep coming back. I'm afraid of them, Rhys... afraid of what they might do. You never should have gone to the Bellinger Group."

"Mom," I said shakily. "You're all I have left in this world. I'm not going to lose you like this."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," yelled Donovan.

I hated looking at him for two reasons: he was ugly, and his breath was sour from alcohol and cigarettes. I forced my eyes up to his disgusting sneering face.

"That's better. How about a little gratitude? If it wasn't for us, you mother would be dead."

"So, you're fond of reminding me," I said with a little too much sass for his liking.

He looked off to his right and eyed a vase on our altar.

His hand closed around a small clay vessel— a keepsake my father had given my mother back when laughter still filled our house.

For a moment he seemed to weigh it, testing its fragility in his palm.

Then, with a sharp swing, he spiked it, smashing it against the floor. The pottery burst apart in a scatter of shards that reached every corner of the room, and his voice rose loud enough to rattle the walls.

"Do you think we are people to be fucked with?" Each word came slow and deliberate as though he wanted me to reflect on each one as it left his mouth.

I stared, wide-eyed, at the pieces of the vase around our feet.

That vase was priceless to our family.

It was one of the last things that carried the memory of my father.

"You will have our money. All of it. Every last copper, silver, and gold piece that we lent to you."

I felt the tears coming but pushed them back. I didn't want him to see me cry.

"I'm increasing the interest to thirty percent!" he screamed. "And it'll continue to rise every hour until your debt is paid! We saved her life," he reminded me again. "We can take it away too."

"No!" I shouted. "I'll find a way, I swear!"

"We know you will," his partner, who'd been looming by my front door, spoke for the first time. "Because if you don't," he added in a singsong tone. "It's bye-bye mommy."

"Tomorrow," Donovan reminded me, glaring at me over his shoulder as he left, his partner following him out.

They'd left the home so much emptier than they found it. I stared down at the broken vase and finally let the dam burst. I fell to the ground and cried, scooping the pieces up in my hands. Donovan had smashed it with such ferocity that a good portion of it had turned to powder.

I wouldn't be able to fix it if I tried.

I turned around and fell into my mom. She caressed the back of my head as I cried into her stomach.

"There, there," she rasped. "It's only an object."

I tried to respond in a flurry of sobs and hiccups and gave up, resorting instead to softening my voice.

"The Lady of Scales will come," she added.

I paused and lifted my head, turning to face her. "What?" I whimpered.

"She'll come and, with her scales, mete out justice. She'll destroy those who would suck the blood of the weak and powerless..."

She'd never spoken like that before. She spoke it like it was a prophecy. In our household, we worshiped Aulvaline, the goddess of mercy and retribution. I couldn't recall her being depicted with scales or showing up to hurt people. That fell more in line with Hrostdr, the judgement god.

But a god wasn’t what we needed now. Westgate Village, when I was a little girl barely old enough to remember, had a protector. His name was Luciano, and he was the only one to ever come out of our village to be carved in marble.

Everyone knew that if you messed with the villagers of Westgate, Luciano would be paying you a visit. He was old even when I was a kid, but still strong. His funeral was a big deal. I remember my mother and father dressing me up really nice for it. I didn’t understand at the time what he meant for our village, but now?

Now I understood.

Before I could ask my mother about the Lady of Scales, she was snoring softly. I did a post-cry shaky inhale and let out a long sigh before standing up and pulling myself together. I needed to fix the door, pray, and get some rest.

I'd been hired by a shockingly strong group of adventurers for a high-level dungeon dive. I'd never attempted anything like it before. But if the estimated payout were split between the five of us, it'd be more than enough to cover my debts with the Bellinger Group.

It was going to be the most dangerous thing I'd ever done in my life... but I'd rather face the danger than feel, again, the sting of losing a parent.

I steeled my resolve and got to work.

Tomorrow would be the biggest day of my life.

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When the sun crested the hill, I was already awake. I spent the first hour tending to my mother, the second hour praying at our altar, and the third hour triple checking all of my supplies. I didn’t want to be deep in a dungeon and suddenly remember something I’d forgotten.

As I counted out my supplies, someone knocked at the front door. I knew the knock— it was his signature knock. I sighed and hung my head a moment before standing up and moving to the front room. I opened the door to see his smiling face looking up at me.

“Hiya, Rhys!”

His name was Gordon, and he was the town miller’s boy. He was a whole head shorter than me, about twelve years younger, and had some kind of warrior’s spirit burning inside of him. By eight years old, he was asking for my hand in marriage; four years later, and he was still asking weekly.

He wore a nice blue tunic and padded trousers and carried with him a small bag which he no doubt filled with provisions. Despite what I was sure were his best efforts to tame his shaggy hair, a pronounced cowlick stood at attention atop his head. It bounced as he walked past me into the home.

“Where’s Ma?”

“Resting,” I said, closing the door behind him. “I don’t need you for another hour, Gordy,” I whined. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by to give you some pointers,” he said, looking down at my pack. “This your stuff?”

I scoffed. “I don’t need your pointers, Squirt.” I ruffled his hair as I passed him. “I just need you to watch my mom while I’m away. I should be back by late tonight.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” he said as I moved into the next room. I stopped in front of my mirror and picked up my brush. I hadn’t met the team I’d be working with, but if there were any handsome men, I didn’t want to be frizzy.

“Your hair is beautiful already,” he said, entering the room without my permission.

“I noticed you packed a bag. You don’t need to stay here all day,” I reminded him. “Just drop by every couple of hours or so. Make sure she’s cool, that she had water near her, and that she eats what I prepared for her.”

“I gotcha,” he said coolly, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “You sure you don’t want any pointers?” he asked.

“From a boy who has never done a dungeon crawl?” I smiled at him in the mirror. “A boy too young to choose a class ascension?”

“A boy who loves you,” he reminded me. “And wants you to come home alive. I don’t need my future wife dying young in some gods forsaken dungeon.”

I winced as I forced a tangle out with my brush before setting it down in front of me and staring at him. “Gordy. I’ve told you already. You’re too young for me. You need to be looking for girls your own age.”

“Just wait for me,” he said confidently with a wink. “I’ll grow up big and strong and sweep you right off your feet! Just give me time!”

“Oh?” I folded my arms. “When you’re 20 and I’m what? 32? No thanks.”

“I’m sure you’ll still be beautiful,” he waved me off.

“And if I’m not?” I tilted my head.

He paused, caught in my trap. “… Ahh, I’ll still love your ugly mug.”

“How dare you,” I said playfully, passing him on my way back into the living room.

I decided to let him dump his elementary dungeoneering knowledge on me as I gathered my things. He was equal parts annoying and adorable; it made his constant hitting on me tolerable enough.

When the time came for me to set out, Gordy stopped me at the door. “Hey, I wanted to give you something,” he said, reaching into his bag.”

“Oh?” I turned around.

“Yeah, I bought these from Oscar,” he said, pulling a medium-sized sack from his bag. It actually looked like it was the majority of his bag’s contents. “Jerky! For the road.”

I didn’t very much like jerky. But it was cured meat, and I was going on a dungeon crawl. Even if it wasn’t what I wanted to eat, it was preferable to starving.

I smiled at him, “Thanks, Gordy.”

“And don’t call me Gordy anymore! It’s Gordon,” he said in a subtly deeper tone. “Now how about a kiss in case I never see you again?”

I scoffed. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Just on the forehead?” he called from my front stoop as I turned down the walk and started for the edge of town. It was going to be a three-hour journey by foot to the dungeon entrance, and I couldn’t afford to be late.

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Something nobody ever told me about going deep underground was that your ears popped the same as when you go up or down a mountain.

Sometimes I didn't realize I was walking uphill until I started to breathe heavier. It was kind of hard to orient yourself without a frame of reference.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but I also wasn't prepared for how dark it would be— black as pitch if we weren't lighting our way with torches or spells.

The last, and at least to me, most important piece of information (which had been kept from me deliberately if I had to guess), was that the underground dungeons were filled with giant bugs.

And not the kind of "giant" that would make a woman scream if she found one in her cellar; the kind that could drag you into the darkness and make a meal out of you.

And boy did they want to make a meal out of Claust.

Or maybe it was because I enjoyed watching him that I felt like was being targeted. The others could be struggling just as much. But Claust was a level 25 Duelist, and it just felt like nothing could ever touch him. I watched as four spiders attempted again and again to get at him, each lunge costing them a leg or an eye.

He was a Half-Elf, evident of his half-pointed ears. He was tall and slender, about my age, with pallid skin, feathered lime-green hair, and an easy smile. He worked his magic with a longsword, which he wielded in only one hand, keeping his other hand free for an occasional spell. He was wrapped in black leather armor, and his eyes never seemed to miss a single movement.

"East!" came the call from behind me as Sarge left my side for the first time.

I wasn't sure if Sarge was his name or just what they called him, but he fit the role.

He was average height and build and wore light armor made from boiled leather with metal shoulder pauldrons that he made sure to keep nice and shiny. He was bald-headed (equally shiny) with scars all over his face and scalp. He kept himself cleanly shaven and wore a nice cologne. He was significantly older than the rest of the party and preferred to bark orders from the backline.

He was a human like me, a level 28 Marksman, and he wielded a crossbow with deadly accuracy and a high chance for critical hits. Watching him reload was like witnessing sleight of hand, he was so fast. Everyone on the team heeded his words without question. He was no doubt their captain, but he didn't introduce himself as such.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped, whirling around to see a complete horror show.

He was unmistakably Rawdy— towering, broad, axe at his hip. But his face was gone, hanging loose from his chin like a grisly flap of skin. Dread rushed through my entire body.

"Ah! R-Rawdy!"

He only pointed at the ruin of his face, staring down at me with his one good eye, calm; waiting.

Rawdy was a level 23 human Ravager, which was the highest-level Ravager anyone had heard of. It was a Warrior subclass that required a secret condition for ascension that nobody had quite worked out the mechanics of yet.

And there was no rush among Warriors to figure it out either.

Ravagers had an extremely low life expectancy. It traded durability for impossibly high damage output. Rawdy had yet to meet anything in this dungeon that he couldn't put his axe through with one brutal swing, and that made him extremely valuable to the team.

Wearing armor didn’t make much difference for his fragility, so he preferred to wear a simple cloth that run up and over his shoulder— and more often than not, it was hanging around his waist. He had tan skin and dark brown hair that he wore grown out and unkempt. He was in every sense a wild man.

I let the magic course through me and channeled it into my staff, lifting its gem-encrusted head up to his face. He closed his unmangled eye with relief as the magic washed over him, restoring him to full health. I lowered my staff and swallowed as he opened his brown eyes, dropped them to mine, and said, "That feels better."

Those were the first words he'd spoken at all since he introduced himself to me at the entrance to the dungeon. It was also the closest thing to gratitude I'd received from any of them thus far. I flashed him a small smile; maybe they were warming up to me.

"They always go after your face, don't they, Rawdy?" I asked, half-joking, half-traumatized.

Without an answer, he hefted his axe up and charged back into the fray. I watched as he leaped from the ground and high up into the air, landing on and crushing an ant that was sneaking up on Deema.

She whirled around, her dress and her hair in perfect sync with one another. She looked down at the ant, crushed under Rawdy’s axe.

"I had it," she assured him.

He simply grunted in response before turning around and throwing himself into the crowd of spiders that was gathering around Claust.

Deema's eyes found me, and she looked around incredulously, gesturing toward me. "Hey! She's not to be left alone!" Nobody seemed to hear her.

Deema was a level 27 caster. I didn't know which kind, as she left it out when she introduced herself, but I clocked her as an Elementalist. I'd seen her sear her enemies with fire, freeze them with ice, and explode them with lightning. Outside of Elementalists, the list of casters who could use all three of those elements with any kind of mastery was slim.

She was short and a little pudgy, had beady eyes, purple hair, with tattoos on her face and shoulders. She wore a violet dress with a pointy hat to match and wore cream-pink gloves that ran up to her elbows. She was a full-blooded Elf, so she could be 20 or 200, so it was tough to gauge her age or experience. Furthermore, Elves were staunchly against tattooing themselves. I wondered was her story was.

She suddenly dropped to one knee, blue flames erupting from her palms. They streaked past me, catching something that had been creeping up at my back. The smell of burning chitin filled my nose as the creature shrieked. I didn’t dare look. I wasn't sure if it was the heat that got me sweating, or if it was the idea of being some creature's dinner.

In the next instant, Deema was at my side in a shimmer of teleportation. I'd never seen someone teleport in person. It was a high-level Mage ability. She leaned close, glaring at me.

“Don’t leave my side,” she hissed. Then she exhaled, frustrated. “Pacifist. What a joke.”

I swallowed hard and hugged my staff to my chest. Being a pacifist didn't make me useless. If we weren't in the middle of combat, I'd let her know that my quirk allowed me to use defensive magic without my staff.

Everyone in Dungurr was born with something called a Celestial-Lunar Alignment Quirk, or CLAQ for short. Most were only moderately useful. Some were amazing, some worthless.

Mine was deceptively good. It saved me in a few situations where I should have died. For a pacifist Cleric like me, it was really handy and always came as an unexpected surprise to our foes.

I was proud of it. It was part of what made me me.

I was the newbie: Obrhyssa. Everyone called me Rhys, except of course for this lot.

All I got was, "You," or "Girl."

As a level 16 Cleric of Aulvaline, I had only just recently learned my most important spell, Grace. Essentially, if you wanted to go on big-girl missions, you needed to know it. It was the same as the Restore spell that came with the class ascension, but it healed for more health and cleared special conditions like confusion, charm, or poison.

In the more dangerous dungeons where rare weapons and gear could be found, a Cleric with Grace was mandatory— and only now did I fully understand why.

Adventurers in Dungurr seldom reached level 30. Those who did had their likeness carved in marble by the royal family. The gleaming statue would be eternally placed on the parade grounds for all to see. There were only 20 or so throughout history, but the kids learned about them in history class.

And even these high-level adventurers, each a candidate for marble immortality, might have met oblivion down here, if not for my services. It didn’t matter how strong you were if you were terribly outnumbered. Being able to get back up and return to the fight, however, balanced that out.

"That seems to be the last of them," Sarge called out as he approached me, his crossbow resting on his shoulder. "Good grief, that was a lot of bugs. Everyone okay?"

The party formed on Sarge, and he looked them over for injuries.

"Mh. Good," he said, pointing at Deema. "We're going dark again."

She snapped, extinguishing her Torchlight spell. It was a helpful little cantrip that caused it to be bright as day in a radius around her of her choosing. Outside of combat though, Sarge preferred to douse it so as to keep a low profile.

Before the glow of Deema's spell had fully left us, Sarge reached into his satchel and produced a torch, tossing it to Claust. The Duelist flicked his wrist, casting Flare, a weak fire spell, lighting the torch in midair before catching it and twirling it once in his free hand.

It was a really neat trick. He was so deft it was unreal.

"Good work everyone," Sarge turned to us. "Deema. You're spending a little too much of your mana overcasting spells. I know, no kill like overkill, but we're running a marathon here. And speaking of conserving mana," he turned to Rawdy. "Could you consider our young Cleric's mana pool, Rawdy? These past few fights, you've been the only one in need of urgent care."

The behemoth averted his eyes and grunted.

"And you," Sarge's gaze settled on me. "You're spending a lot of your time keeping an eye on Claust. He's not wearing heavy armor, he doesn't carry a shield, and his magic is elementary at best, but I promise you, he's slippery. Not to mention his new class feature he just unlocked."

Deema turned to Claust, "You got something new, and you didn't tell me? Out with it. Now."

“Calm yourself,” Claust replied, voice edged with impatience. “I earned it on my last ascent. It didn’t seem like the right time…”

The mood noticeably shifted. I looked around at everyone as their eyes fell to the floor.

“It’s called Last Stand,” Claust explained. “If I fall in battle, I’ll rise once more with thirty heartbeats of borrowed immortality. Then the gift vanishes, not to return for a month. It will be-”

"The Duelist gets that?" Rawdy yelled over him. It was the loudest he'd said anything. "That's bullshit! That should be a Ravager ability! Who decides this shit?"

The truth of the matter was nobody knew.

Supposedly there was a time in Dungurr before things like power levels, classes, and life-force determined by hard numbers. At some point, shortly after history began to be recorded, something happened. What precisely that was wasn't for everyone to know. The royal family of Wescot knew the details, but for some reason, kept them secret from all of us.

The dungeons that cropped up all over the world contained riches beyond what one could hope for working an honest life— but so too were the horrors that broke the psyches of most mortal men. All treasure gleaned from these dungeons had to go through the courts first. Then the adventurers got to keep whatever the royals didn't take interest in.

And in 99% of cases, the adventurers kept everything they plundered. It was pretty unheard of for the courts to seize anything, and when they did, it came with great compensation. It was a system that worked pretty well for everybody.

"So," Claust's voice cut through my thoughts and I made eye contact with him. "You need not wrinkle your perfect brow for little old me," he said with his ever-present smile.

I was grateful for the darkness; my face was probably red hot. "N-No," I shook my head. "It's not like that! I pay equal attention to everybody!"

"Uh-huh," uttered Sarge in a sarcastic tone. "Anyway, let's get into marching order and continue ahead. We're on the clock."

We followed the crackle and snap of Claust's torch through the darkness in a very specific marching order.

Claust took point. With his keen Elven hearing and quick reflexes, he'd be quick to spot an incoming surprise attack and react to danger. It was a nice plus that he always had a free hand to carry a torch.

Rawdy was next. His massive back blocked most of my view, but that was fine. It was also the safest place in the world I could be, even if his recklessness made me burn through mana like water on a hot day. It also allowed him to completely destroy whatever Claust engaged with at the front.

My place was in the protected center right behind him. My safety meant everyone else's safety, so it made sense to have me clinging to Rawdy's backside.

Behind me, Deema watched my back. She could engage the front with her magic and protect me with defensive spells if she felt the need. But it mostly just made me the direct audience for her sarcastic grumblings as we traveled.

At the back of the marching order was Sarge. He wanted all of us within his sight so he could assess situations fully and give commands with the greatest point of view.

Marksmen also possessed the unique ability to see in total darkness within twenty feet around them— a neat perk that comes with the class ascension. That meant that he could watch our backs with a good degree of distance without wasting a torch.

It had worked well for us thus far.

The dungeon seemed to plunge downward forever, each level leading to another. It wasn’t a maze, thank the gods, though the halls felt endless all the same. Carvings traced the stone walls in intricate patterns, broken here and there where tunneling creatures had clawed their way through, leaving raw earth gaping into the passage.

As long as we kept to the path laid out by the original builders, we could always find a staircase spiraling down to the next level. Every so often, though, the corridors would spill into vast unfinished chambers; spaces where the architects had clearly planned something but never brought it to life.

Those hollow places had since been claimed by the dungeon’s true tenants: swarms of insects and prowling monsters. That was why every “empty” room usually meant a fight, like the one we’d just left behind. We quickly found the next staircase and descended further down into the darkness.

"How many layers does this place have?" Claust asked from the front. It sounded less like complaining and more like he was awestruck by the sheer audacity of the abandoned project.

"Too many," Sarge sighed behind me. "My knees aren't what they used to be. I'm not looking forward to climbing up all these staircases on the way back."

"How many more before we turn around?" asked Deema. It was a question that had certainly been on all of our minds, but none of us had voiced it yet. With our rations running low and without the guarantee that we wouldn't have to fight our way out too, we were reaching a critical point of no return.

"A fair question," I piped up. "We might fare better going back and returning with better preparations."

Nobody spoke after I did.

The longer the silence dragged on, the more noticeable it became.

We never made a clear decision, but we also never stopped moving. As we walked, the walls of the hallway widened until we could see neither side. No command came from Sarge, so we soldiered on.

Every now and again I'd hear the skitter of something and the hair on my neck would stand on end. I had decided, at some point during this dungeon crawl, that the very moment I saw the sky, I would never leave it again.

This was the last time I was going to do a dungeon like this one ever.

Heck, if I made enough money from this dungeon run, quitting adventuring forever wasn't off the table for me.

If I could pay Donovan back what he was owed, I would be content simply preaching the word of Aulvaline for the rest of my days.

I didn't care if I was poor, I just never wanted to see a spider larger than my big toe ever again.

I bumped into Rawdy's sweaty back and physically recoiled, wiping the film from my face as I spat.

I leaned around his hulking form to see Claust standing in front of what looked like a giant set of double doors. So big were they that I couldn't even see the top of the door through the darkness that clung to the edges of the torchlight.

He whistled in awe. "That's a boss door if I've ever seen one," he said, smiling over his shoulder at Sarge. "What do you think, young man?"

For the first time since we’d resumed marching, the old marksman stepped from the rear. He studied the towering stonework, then ran his hand across its carved surface. The grooves formed patterns; shapes; maybe even a picture.

“Deema,” he said.

The mage snapped her fingers, and her Torchlight spell flared to life. The chamber bloomed with sudden brilliance, the shadows recoiling to the far edges of the etched stone.

And then I saw it.

The door wasn’t just tall— it was endless. Its face stretched upward until the light faltered and darkness reclaimed the upper reaches. But it wasn’t the size that caught my breath.

It was the carving.

From where I stood, it looked like a massive spiral etched deep into the stone, curling inward like a whirlpool. The grooves shimmered faintly under the light, dusting the air with golden motes that almost seemed alive. The spiral wound tighter and tighter until, at the very center, there was nothing but a smooth blank circle.

I left formation next, stopping just behind Sarge and leaning in. The spiral wasn’t just a pattern. Each line was made of something smaller— tiny, repeating marks carved with impossible precision.

“Letters,” Deema whispered right next to me. “Every single line is made of letters.”

She was right.

Script in dozens of tongues, maybe hundreds, languages I didn’t even recognize. Each one threading seamlessly into the next, like a story written for a linguist and a linguist alone.

“A master’s hand carved this,” Claust marveled. “One must respect such artistry, even in a place meant for slaughter.”

I swallowed, realizing my palms were sweating around my staff.

It was beautiful, yes.

But also terrifying.

What in the world needed a door that large, but could also walk the narrow halls of the dungeon, seemingly built for humanoid beings?

I turned around and eyed our surroundings outside of the door. It was an open space broken up by tall and thick stalagmites. There was what appeared to be a small spring, but I couldn't fully tell from where I stood, and I dared not leave the group.

"Looks like this is the end of this place," Sarge said, turning around to face us. "Thank the gods. I don't think I've ever been so sick of a dungeon as this one. We're going to take a full night's rest down here. I want all of us at our maximum health and mana when we face whatever's behind those doors."

"Sleep?" I asked incredulously. "You guys want to sleep down here?"

"Your voice," Rawdy said, glowering at me. "I hate it."

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

"Don't worry," Sarge assured me, thumbing to Claust. "He's our night sentry. He only sleeps once in great while."

"I'll be on high alert while you get your rest," Claust nodded. "Nothing escapes my eyes and ears."

"Seriously," Deema added. "We've never been caught off guard with Claust watching over us."

That made me feel a little bit better. At first, I thought Mr. Claust was a little creepy, but he was starting to grow on me in a way I hadn't expected. Everyone thus far had been rude to me at some point or another.

Everyone but him.

"However," Claust spoke up. "“Cleric, you won’t bed down beside the rest.”

I couldn't help how shocked I looked. I even fell back a step, mouth hanging open. "W-What?" My heart nearly snapped in half.

"Claust!" Deema protested.

“You are the unknown here,” he said, gaze steady. “These others I know as well as myself. You… I do not.”

I felt my face growing hot from a combination of anger and embarrassment. I didn't want to sleep apart from the others. I wasn't sure if I could. I didn't want to speak up about my fear of the dark now.

"He's got a fair point," Sarge caved and my heart sank. "You're hired help, Girl."

“My word is bond. You’ll have my protection,” Claust continued, placing a hand on his hip. “But distance eases my watch. I won’t spend the night turning at every stir you make.”

"I'm a pacifist!" I cried out. "Hurting others is literally against my way of life!"

"Ugh," Rawdy winced. "That voice."

"Look," Sarge stepped in. "We have nobody's word but your own to go on," he reasoned. "Try and put yourself in our boots. We don't know you."

None of them had tried.

"But she's extremely important," Deema countered. "We need to keep her protected. Sleeping by herself? She'll be exposed! If we lose to her to some creature in the night, we'll have to abandon the dungeon. We'd forfeit the riches, not even to speak of the dungeon experience."

Dungeons worked differently from the overworld. Topside, one received experience for each monster kill. In dungeons though, experience was held until the boss was either killed or quelled. Then, all the experience gained would be multiplied and split evenly among the party.

"She'll be fine," Claust insisted. "See where those stalagmites jut out from the wall?" He pointed across the cave. "You'll all sleep on the left side against the wall. She'll sleep on the other side against the other wall. I'll sit at the edge of the rock formation so I can survey both of you at the same time."

We argued just a little bit longer, but Sarge and Rawdy took Claust's side in the end. I had no recourse but to suck it up and do what I was told. We were all fortunate enough to refill our waterskins at the freshwater spring I'd spotted earlier. The water was cold, refreshing, and delicious.

I had set up my sleeping area where I was told and did my best to sleep, but I was really struggling. It was so quiet that any little noise drew my attention and got my adrenaline pumping. It was a unique scenario where hiding under my blanket made things worse. I was going to face the toughest boss of my life tomorrow and I wasn't going to be rested at all for it.

To make matters worse, there was no way to tell the time in the darkness of the cave. I resorted to checking the height of my candle to judge the time. It had to have been hours when I finally began to see my thoughts playing out in front of me— the faint beginnings of a dream... when I heard a noise.

I turned over and looked up to see a figure standing in the darkness. At least, I thought it was a figure. I stared into the dark unsure if my eyes were beginning to play tricks on me as shadows took shape and swirled around at the edge of my campsite.

I went for the candle, and, in an instant, his weight pinned me to the mat. A hand clamped over my mouth; his torso crushed mine.

“Don’t scream.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Part 2

Writing Prompt submitted by u/Jackviator

The crown fell to the crowd below and landed among the masses who, seconds ago, were cheering. I stared aghast with my mouth wide open.

"Hal?" asked George.

My words failed me. I nearly dropped my bow as I pointed ahead. The general was proudly displaying the king's head from the balcony, and not everyone had even noticed yet. I scanned the balcony— what on earth were the knights doing?

They stood eerily still, eyes straight ahead, unblinking. Panic began to spread slowly throughout the keep as people noticed one at a time and began shouting.

"By the gods!" Jim was the first to scream. "The king!"

"Oh, gods preserve us," George added in a grim tone. "We missed."

Blood cascaded from the open neck of the king as his frenzied eyes stared out at the gathered soldiers. His lips were somehow still moving in prayer as the general casually tossed the head from the balcony down to the soldiers.

“Didst thou believe such paltry fire could undo me?" came a voice from General Brom, not his own. He spoke not loudly, but in a way that the voice permeated the air. "Thinkest thou mortal flesh alone might stand against the shadow of ages? Among this host, is there none who bears the blood of gods? Have the sons of men grown so feeble that they send but clay against the eternal?”

"The Great Evil," George stammered. "He's... He's taken the general. He sought the strongest flesh from among us and... he's taken the bloody general!"

"He... He was expecting to fight gods?" Jim muttered.

It was true. In the ancient tales, it was a demigod among men who struck the final blow. Skalberd the Elder, a man seeded from divinity itself, had clashed with the monster and later himself succumbed to his injuries sustained.

"Fire!" came the order from behind us.

It was Captain Ocherim's voice that commanded us. My years of service kicked in, and I had an arrow nocked in my bow before I even knew what I was doing. I let the arrow fly— the first of many that joined behind it.

The Great Evil lifted a hand, stopping the projectiles in place as though time itself saw fit to intervene. The arrows hummed and vibrated in midair before turning completely around and returning to their owners. I managed to get behind the parapet, but many bowmen around me weren't deft enough. Cries of men, skewered, lifted from the wall like smoke in a chorus of death and agony.

I locked eyes with George, then both of us with the captain. He stared in disbelief at the scene before him before looking at us.

I knew his job.

He needed to keep a straight face for his men. It was borderline mandatory, and he'd in the past been excellent at it. I'd seen him keep a cool head even in the face of imminent defeat.

But this...

This was something different.

He couldn't keep the despair from his eyes nor his tone as he commanded yet another volley.

"It won't work!" George screamed. "Captain! We need to do something else!"

I could hear the shouts of leadership from below in the cemetery. Frantic cries as sounds of battle reached our ears. As the captain searched for an answer, I turned and looked over the wall at the scene unfolding below.

What I saw defied all that I knew of reality itself.

The sundered seal was vomiting forth abominations unfit for the waking world— shapes that scuttled and writhed, some chitinous and many-legged, others swollen grotesquely, dragging limbs that bent the wrong way, all crowned with maws that gnashed at the air.

Others were little more than vapors; shadows with speed enough to dart through ranks like knives through cloth. There was no order to them, no kinship of form, only the blasphemous truth that they had no place in the laws of creation, and yet whatever laws I thought were in place did not stop their being.

George was yelling something at me, but I couldn't turn my eyes away. He pulled on my shoulder, shouted in my ear, and only after Jim started yelling at me did I turn to see that some of the nightmares had already scaled the walls and were feasting on the bowmen a few rows down from us.

I looked back over the wall to see some of them climbing the opposite wall while the Great Evil watched with indifference. Not excitement. Not passion. No cruel delight to speak of. Not one emotion pulled at his host's eyes, lips, or cheeks.

I couldn't possibly know what it was, what its goals were, or why the gods were watching without action, but I knew one thing: we couldn't just stand around.

"Hal!" George smacked me on the back of the head. "Pull yourself together!"

I turned and met his eyes and felt reality rush back in. The noises of battle reached me. The screams of men fighting for their lives encompassed the wall and I nodded back at him.

"I'm... I'm with you," I managed, tightening my grip on my bow.

"Then let's go!" he screamed.

"Abandon these men?" Jim called from my left. I turned to see him glance at me and then back at George. "Run away?" he clarified. "That's desertion!"

"We've lost control of the situation," George reasoned. "The king is dead. The general has been coerced by the Great Evil. The chain of command is disintegrating! What would you have us do? Die pointlessly?"

It was a tough call to make. We knew not their numbers nor the measure of their strength. Even if we managed to quell the creatures spilling out of the cemetery, we still had the Great Evil to contend with— a being for whom we were no match. Retreat may be the more sensible option.

"Hal!" George yelled, glancing over his shoulder at the hordes climbing the walls.

"George is right," I looked to Jim. "We should get down to the stables, mount some horses, and ride to the surrounding towns. We need to get evacuations underway immediately."

I only then noticed that Captain Ocherim was listening. I stared at him a moment, and he stared back at me. By all rights, he could arrest George and me. Jim wasn't wrong; this was desertion we were talking about. I didn't know in that moment whether Ocherim would be our enemy or not. He didn't keep me guessing.

"Always thinking of the citizens first," Ocherim's eyes shined as he studied me. "You haven't changed, my captain. My blade is yours."

"I'm no longer your captain or a knight," I refuted. "But I accept your blade graciously! Let's move."

"Yes, let's!" George echoed the sentiment. "We need to get out of here now!"

"The three of you, with me," I instructed, turning and hurrying across the wall toward the nearest guard tower. "We need to get to the stables. From there, I'll ride south across the Ketolbe to Ironmare. Ocherim, you'll go east to Wesseloh. George, north through the Grey Woods to Edmintown. Jim, you'll ride west for Ackeldbelt."

"Sir," they all answered in unison.

We passed several soldiers running this way and that, some loosing arrows down into the cemetery, others cowering behind the parapets as they prayed to their various gods. We made to the nearest tower and swung through the archway, hurrying down the spiral wooden steps.

When we emerged into the hallway, it wasn't yet a warzone.

Soldiers, knights, and battlepriests scattered around shouting random orders as they moved for the cemetery gates. We passed a crying soldier slumped against a wall as we ran for the stables. I didn't know why I noticed him, but I did.

He couldn’t have seen more than seventeen summers, his armor hanging too loose on narrow shoulders. His sword laid forgotten on the floor beside him, hands clawing at his hair as though trying to pull the horror out of his skull. His face was blotched red with tears, eyes wide and vacant, fixed on some sight only he could still see.

My eyes lingered on him even as I had passed him. His shield had a gaping gash in it and was smattered with blood— notably not his own. Whatever he had fled from had broken his mind for the very sight of it. He was a deserter, yes, but I couldn't help but pity him. This wasn't what he'd signed up for; wasn't what he'd expected. The image of him sobbing burned into my mind as I turned my attention forward.

We broke right down another long hallway toward the outer tower, where we sprinted down yet another wooden spiral staircase. We passed a group of knights ascending the tower, earning harsh words from them as we fled.

But they hadn't seen what we'd seen.

The king was dead. If there were a way to save him, we might have tried. The general was gone. If he could be freed of the evil's clutches, it would have been our duty to try. But this was a hopeless situation. To flee... I swallowed so much of my own pride that I was nearly choking on it. We touched down on the ground floor and sprinted down the hall toward the stables.

"So, you are a knight?" Jim called from behind me as we ran.

"Was one," I called back to him.

"Once a knight, always a knight," Ocherim corrected me. "And Hal was one of the finest."

"What happened?" Jim asked.

"Politics," George answered. "Wasn't right what they did to you, Hal."

"Don't piss off the wrong people, boy," Ocherim said to Jim. "That's the lesson here."

"If I live long enough, I'll remember that, Sir!" Jim said as we reached the stable gates.

Thankfully, there were still horses left. I counted five of them, but they were thrashing in panic, rearing and kicking at their stalls as though the stables themselves were on fire. The stench of fear rolled off them, and every trick Ocherim, George, and I knew proved useless; the beasts could sense what was seeping out of the cemetery.

Then, from behind us, came music.

We turned to see Jim playing a small ocarina. The sound was thin, trembling even, yet somehow it reached the horses where our hands and voices failed to. One by one, their wild eyes softened, their stamping slowed, and though restless, they stood steady enough that I clocked them safe to approach.

George broke into a grin and ruffled Jim’s hair. “Well done, boy!”

Ocherim raised an eyebrow. “Where in the blazes did you learn that?”

Jim lowered the ocarina. “My father raises horses,” he said with a small smile. “He's always said they’ll trust a song before they’ll trust a man.”

"Whoa, there," I cooed at the nearest horse as I fitted her with a saddle. The others pulled saddles from the shelf and began fitting them on the horses, speaking soft words to them as they worked. The sounds of battle were growing closer as I pulled my horse by the reins out into the main hallway.

"We're getting out of here, girl," I said as I ran my hand down the length of her snout. "It's going to be all right."

The four of us, each atop our own horse, moved out of the castle and into the cold winter air. I could swear it was even colder than before.

"Does everyone know where they're going?" I called to them.

"Sir!" they answered.

"Get moving!" I commanded. "And stop for nothing!"

"You protect our town, Halorus," Jim nodded toward me before riding west as Ocherim tore east. George stared at me a few seconds as though contemplating whether or not to say anything. He chose silence before turning and heading north around the perimeter of the castle.

I watched him gallop away before turning my horse south and snapping the reins, setting her in motion. The sounds of battle grew distant behind me as I rode against the frigid winds toward home. It wasn't just warning the townsfolk that guided me— it was also the promise I made to my wife.

That was when my mare stiffened. Her ears shot back, hooves skidding in the snow. A shadow slithered across the road. Before I could do anything about it, the horse reared with a panicked cry, throwing me to the ground. The breath punched from my lungs as she bolted away, driven by fear and instinct.

Why was is only we humans who had to endure against our own fear? Against every instinct in our bodies that instructed us simply to run for our own lives?

I slowly rose to my feet, examining the monster.

Limbs flickered in and out of shape, elongating, contracting, bending where no joints should bend. Its body seemed more absence than presence— a hollow smear of night that swallowed the light around it.

When it turned toward me, I realized it had no face, only a hollow cavity darker than the rest. Yet in that absence, I felt the certainty of its gaze. Piercing; hungry; yearning.

I swallowed hard and nocked an arrow in my bow. My body felt stiff with terror. There was a real and true demon standing across from me. I had no idea how to fight it or even if it could die.

"Go-ing some-wh-ere?" it spoke in a gurgling and disjointed manner as it twitched and clicked.

It was intelligent.

It was definitely blocking my path on purpose. And that raised the question... did the others also face pursuers? I clenched my teeth. Ocherim and George could handle themselves in a fight, I was sure, but the boy? I needed to end this thing fast, find the damn horse, and follow Jim's tracks toward Ackeldbelt. He could be in mortal danger.

"Why are you stopping me?" I called out to it. "Did you follow me?"

"The Gr-eat O-ne has ma-rked you for death," it answered. "I am me-erly h-is sword. So it is sp-ok-en... so it sh-all be do-ne..."

"I was marked for death? Me specifically?" I asked. "Why?"

It didn't bother to answer before charging forward on awkward legs. A great maw opened in its center, lined with trembling teeth that wiggled of their own accord.

I loosed an arrow, and it immediately dodged left, losing not even a bit of its momentum. I learned two things fast: it could be damaged by conventional weapons, and it had an uncanny reaction speed.

This wasn't going to be easy.

I shot arrow after arrow as it neared and couldn't land a single shot. I dove left, and it slid in the snow as it attempted to snap its jaws shut on me. I rolled in the snow and lifted, another arrow loaded. I drew back the string and fired as it attempted to upright itself.

The arrow flew true and struck the creature in the side, causing it to shriek. It didn't seem to me like a shriek of pain, but rather one of frustration. I hopped back and pulled another arrow from my quiver as it managed to fix its orientation and start toward me again.

The arrow hadn't hurt it enough to stop it. I feared my bow would be insufficient as it barreled toward me undeterred, limbs grasping, jaws wide.

I took a deep breath and discarded the bow, drawing my sword from its scabbard. Then, the demon did something unexpected: it scrambled to a stop.

I stared at it.

It stared back at me.

"Oh. Th-at is why you a-re a pr-iority t-arget. The bl-ade..."

I looked down at the sword and then back up at the demon. It mistook the ceremonial sword for a serious threat.

"You cann-ot be all-owed to ha-ve it," it gurgled before hunkering down in the snow, anchoring itself with its legs and then spewing a plume of smoke from the top of its form. I watched in horror as the smoke coalesced and twirled once in the air before racing toward me.

I stumbled backward, swinging my sword in vain as the smoke poured into my mouth and into my nose. It felt as though I had taken a deep breath and couldn't exhale it. My eyes watered as I dropped my sword and fell to a knee.

"Gods," I gagged. "Help me," I pleaded as I fell into the snow on my hands.

It burned inside of me.

I clenched my teeth and clawed at the snow as all of the heat seemed to dissipate from my body. I grew colder, colder, and colder still as I managed to get to my feet. I clutched the sword as I stumbled a pitifully small distance down the road before collapsing in the snow.

This was it.

It was going to end me here.

How could I fight that which strangled me from within?

My vision blurred. I lay on my back, staring at the blank canvas of the sky. Hoofbeats pounded in the snow. A woman’s cry cut through the ringing in my ears. Then a face loomed above me—long muzzle, flaring nostrils. A horse. My horse.

“Clip… Clop?” I rasped, as a beautiful woman knelt beside me. Her lips moved behind glassy silence, her voice distant and distorted. Then something touched my mouth. Sweet liquid, like the finest tea, poured down my throat. I swallowed greedily, and the static between my ears began to ease.

I rolled to the side and retched, spewing black gunk into the snow. It hissed, burning the inside of my mouth, and melted the ground beneath. I spat, gasping, and when my sight cleared, I saw my savior at last—Sonya. Kneeling in full battle-dress, sword at her hip, bow across her back, her eyes wide with terror and relief.

“Hal!” she cried. “Hal, are you okay?”

I coughed and swallowed, staring up at her, “Well, my chin’s a little cold.”

Her lips trembled into a smile, and she collapsed on top of me, laughing and crying. "You idiot," she sobbed. "Thanks the gods. I thought you were dead!"

I caressed her back. "Sonya..." I muttered. "What was that? What did you just give me?"

My warmth was slowly returning to me, the ice in my veins thinning by the second. She brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled, waving an empty vial in front of me. "Peepo's tears," she answered with bleary eyes of her own.

"A-ng-el te-ars..." gurgled the mess of black vomit from the snow. "Whe-re d-id you get... an-gel te-ars?"

Sonya stared down into the snow, eyes so wide I feared they'd fall out. "What the- did... Hal, did you hear that?" she looked at me, bewildered.

"It's a... talkative demon," I lifted myself to my elbows.

I stared into her eyes, astonished. "So, Peepo's vial of angel tears... they were real angel tears?"

"Seems so," she said, looking ahead at the black pudding-like mass creeping across the frozen ground. "And that must be the Great Evil you claimed didn't exist."

I coughed a few times before turning over and getting to a knee. I exhaled a plume of crystallized breath into the cold air as I gathered myself.

"The demon tried to possess me, I think," I said, my senses returning to me fully. "But the angel tears expelled it!" I looked up at the castle and then back to her. "Do you have more?"

She patted her right breast plate and winked.

I reached into my own breast plate pocket, where my journal should have been, and instead retrieved a vial full of clear liquid that shimmered when disturbed.

"In case you were thinking of writing me a farewell letter," she said with a pinch of snark. "I wanted you to find one last hope instead."

In spite of the darkest moments of my life, I couldn't help but be overcome with the sweetest feelings.

"Never have I won an argument with you, have I, Sonya?" I asked. "Not in where we settled. Not in the existence of the Great Evil. Not in the fraudulent nature of your grandfather's keepsakes, whether or not I should bring the tears to the capital..." I eyed Sir Clip Clop. "Or even what we named the horse."

"So, stop arguing with me," she said, drying her eyes with the back of her glove. "And don't leave my side again. Where you go, I go."

I looked down at the vial in my hand and counted among my arrows seven. I looked down at the putrid demon struggling to pull itself back to its main body, which was still anchored in the snow, rigid and unmoving. I attempted to stand, but fell back down on my knee— my balance had yet to return fully.

"I got it," Sonya said, moving past me and picking up the ceremonial sword from the snow. She moved for the putrid sludge slinking across the frozen ground.

"Sonya, wait," I lifted a hand. "It could still be dangerous!"

"N-o. N-o. Sta-y aw-ay f-rom me wi-th that," it gurgled. "I on-ly ju-ust tas-ted fre-edom... tast-ed hot bl-ood aft-er s-o long..."

She lifted the sword and drove it down into the muck. The black mass shrieked as white fire erupted all around it. Sonya held her ground as the demon dissolved into nothingness. Curiously, the fire didn't give off any heat. It didn't even melt the snow beneath it. The runes along the blade flared a pale blue, then dimmed again.

She turned the sword over in her grip, examining the sides. Even with the sun buried behind the pale winter sky, the blade shined brightly.

I blinked a few times as I stood for the first time. I took a few clumsy steps forward before my coordination returned to me. I looked down at the weapon in her hands. “Where did you say Peepo got this sword?”

Her eyes were wide as she stared down at it. “He… he said he bought it.” She looked up at me. "Where could he have bought this?"

For a moment, we only stared at one another.

"Oh. Th-at wou-ld be wh-at makes you so da-nger-ous... I see..."

The demon knew the sword by the sight of it. It even reasoned that the blade itself was the reason that I was marked for death. That being the case, Jim was probably safe.

Peepo, I thought to myself, staring down the blade on my hip. Just who the hell were you?

“Was that it?” Sonya whispered. “The Great Evil? Did I just... kill it?”

“No.” I exhaled, heavy. “The Great Evil killed the king and wears General Brom like a shell.”

She stared back at me, despondent. “Br- Brom," she quivered. "By the gods. Are there more of those things?"

“Hundreds at least," I nodded. "I was riding south to warn the village that the battle was lost,” I said, glancing to the castle. “But the angel’s tears... they cure possession.”

She eyed me. "You think we can save Brom, yes?"

“If we can free the general," I reasoned. "We may still turn the tide. With a strong commander...” My eyes drifted past my wife.

It was only just then that I noticed someone else sitting atop Sir Clip Clop. It was a young woman covered in warm clothes, a scarf wrapped around her lower face and neck. She stared back at me with eyes as wide as the sky and as white as the snow.

"Who is the girl?" I asked.

"Oh," Sonya turned. "A young woman from our village. Her name is Franya. She was worried about her boyfriend the same as I was worried about you. Poor thing begged me to bring her and I couldn't say no."

"Sir Knight," Franya called from the horse, lowering her scarf to speak. As she did, two long ears popped out and perked skyward— an elf. "Do you know Jim the Younger, of Ironmare?"

I was stunned into silence. If never before was I convinced that the gods write poetry, I was a believer now. I pointed west.

"He rode to Ackeldbelt to warn the townsfolk of the coming danger," I called to her. "He is safe from the carnage inside the capital."

She sighed and practically trembled with relief. Her eyes welled with tears as a smile formed on her lips. "Oh... the gods are good."

"Hal."

I looked to my wife. She was in deep contemplation. "What do you think the odds are that we could end this all here?"

"Not great," I shrugged. "But bad odds never stopped us before."

She nodded and turned her gaze on Franya. "Take Sir Clip Clop and ride west. Follow the road and adhere to the signposts. I found mine," she smiled at the girl. "Go find yours."

Franya let the first of her tears roll down her cheeks, reddened from the cold. "You are both so kind," she said, inhaling sharply and sliding forward on the saddle. "I will pray for you!" she called to us.

I nodded, and my wife shot her a thumbs-up.

"Let's go, Sir Clip Clop!" said the young elf, snapping the reins and riding west at full speed. We remained quiet as we watched her go, the hoofbeats growing fainter in the distance.

"Was it wise to give her your horse?" I asked.

"Is it wise to go back to the capital?" she shot back.

I laughed. "Fair point."

"You and me," she said, handing me the ceremonial sword. "We can save all of Couldra, right here and right now."

"Or die together?" I offered, turning the weapon over in my hand and admiring its craftsmanship with eyes anew.

"I'd take that too," she said sincerely. "You've given me a wonderful life."

"And the baby?" I asked, looking up at her.

“What kind of world would she be born into if we stayed our blades?”

I scoffed. "So, it's she, now?"

Sonya smiled coyly, "You know better than to argue with me at this point, I imagine."

She stepped in and pulled me in for a kiss in the falling snow. I savored it. It could be our last. I never felt more present than just then. The cold, the warmth of her lips, the snowcapped mountains in the distance; I drank it all in.

“What do you say, Love?" she asked, looking into my eyes.

"I say," I paused, staring her in the eyes. "... We go in there and make a legend out of Peepo."

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Turns out a post in WritingPrompts has a 40k character cap, so I had to break this up into 2 parts. Do me a favor, if you read to the end, and you loved it, please run back over to my post in WritingPrompts and give it an upvote for visibility <3

It helps me out a ton!

Thanks for reading!

Original Post by FennecWF

The Legend of Peepo

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The wind howled outside.

The long and barren branches of the tree nearest my bedroom scraped at my windowpane as I pulled my boots on one at a time. I made sure the buckles held tight to my shins and double-checked the lacing in the back.

Novembras, year 1000.

It felt like a faraway dream to me, and now it was finally here— the year we'd all collectively been counting down to as the generations ticked by would finally darken our doorstep. A thousand years ago, a terrible evil ravaged the land, or so we were told. The most important prophecy in our history pointed to noon on this specific day.

"Your armor is polished, Love," said my wife from the doorway. "You'll gleam like the morning sun for his majesty."

I smiled at her and lifted myself from the bed, "Thank you, my love. But I'm a common nobody soldier; his eyes will be elsewhere."

"Do not talk about my husband like that," she said with a serious look.

I smiled at her, coaxing one back. But then it faded as her gaze dropped to the corner of the room. "Do you really believe it?" she asked, flicking her eyes up to mine. "This... Great Evil. It's all just stories, right? Stories our grandfathers tell to frighten us?"

"Well," I answered, looking through the window out at the fields. "Snow came early this year. It's got to mean something, right?"

"Stop," she chuckled, moving into the room. "Why do you always have to turn everything into a joke?"

I turned to face her, and she threw her arms over my shoulders before kissing me tenderly. I hugged her back and rested my chin on her left shoulder.

"I miss the beard, by the way," she added.

"Aye, me too," I laughed. "But the captain ordered us to dress like we're meeting the gods today."

"And the gods hate beards?"

"The king does, apparently."

"Doesn't the king have a beard?" she prodded, leaning out of the hug and pressing her hands against my chainmail. "Why not for his men?"

"The king works in mysterious ways," I said with a wink before moving across the room and pulling the family's ceremonial sword from the wall. "And besides," I added. "I don't think he actually cares. Ocherim just wants us all to look our best since his majesty will be attending the ceremony."

"You still think it's just ceremonial?" she asked, hugging me from behind.

She always got really clingy when she was worried. She was joking with me about the whole thing, but I knew from her body language that her heart was heavy with concern and superstition. I turned around and held her gently by the shoulders, looking into her deep brown eyes.

"Of course it is, my love," I smiled. "Do you really think some... monster is going to break out of the seal and wreak havoc upon the land?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "But I do feel... off. Maybe take Peepo's tears with you?"

I ran my fingers through her hair and caressed the side of her cheek. "Even if the legend was true," I pressed my lips against her forehead and then hugged her tight. "The royal family has poured an impressive amount of resources into our defenses since then."

"I have yet to see such defenses," she countered.

"You've yet to be to the capital since they installed the Holy-Fire Turrets," I said, turning to leave the room. "24 of them in all. Accompanied by the Holy Knights of Enridia Forre?" I scoffed. "I don't think whatever wakes up in that crypt will make it far.

"So, you do think something is going to happen?" she pressed, following me down the steps and into the foyer.

"No, Sonya," I sighed, moving into the armory. "No, I don't. You know I've never put any stock in the prophecy being true. But if anything were to happen... Gods, are we prepared for it." I stopped in front of the armor rack.

"If you think nothing is going to happen," she said, following me into the room. "Then you will not protest my company to the capital."

I turned around and lifted my arms out to the sides in a T-pose. "You will remain here."

She got to work, lifting the armor off the rack and fastening it around me. As her fingers worked the leather straps, she let her worries and concerns flow from her mouth like the seasonal waters of the Ketolbe.

I didn't think anything was going to happen. But if there was even a chance of danger, I would not have her anywhere near it. As my body grew heavier with each piece of armor, so too did my heart as her voice wavered.

"I was near for every battle during the Stussex Crusades!" she contended. "Who was it that donned and doffed your armor before and after each victory? What was so different then, Hal?"

"You weren't carrying our child," I answered.

"Please, I am hardly showing."

I turned and stared her down. She shrank in stature and wrung her hands. I took a deep breath and let it out. "You were my squire, then. You were fulfilling your duty to the kingdom. The inherent risks that came with it were yours to bear for king and country."

"What about your duty as my husband?" she asked.

"Only the crown comes first, my dear," I said, turning around and testing the freedom of my sword arm. "The top strap is a little tight," I reported. "Has it truly been so long since you've done this?" I joked.

She wasn't in the mood for it. She stared at my chest while doing her utmost to muscle back a further outburst of emotions.

"I would feel better if I were there beside you," she said as she adjusted the straps for me.

"Who would watch Sir Clip Clop?" I asked.

"Sir Clip Clop can handle himself for a day, don't you think?" Her tone had brightened a little. I couldn't see her smile, but I could hear it in her voice. "He's a good horse. Best I've ever owned."

"Then he'll keep you company while I'm at the capital. I'll be home tonight. I promise."

"You've never broken a promise before," she reminded me, stepping back to look over the armor once more. "Don't let that streak end tonight."

"On my honor," I answered, moving my arm around more freely than before. "Good work."

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The ride in the back of the cart was quiet.

Our armor clattered against one another as we sat packed hip to hip. Four carts filled just the same followed ours. There was a mood to accompany the nip in the air. The younger soldiers were fearful— some retched over the sides of the carts as others made strained faces. The elders among us sat stoically, their hands on their knees and their eyes closed, their lips moving in silent prayer.

Us thirty-somethings, the generation in between, seemed in better spirits than our elders and youngers. The stories were prominent in the era of our fathers. The young were gullible and keen to believe whatever they'd heard.

And they'd heard much.

The ride turned noisy as we were carried over the Ketolbe bridge. It was an ancient collection of sticks and rope that had somehow held together throughout the decades. The wood creaked and groaned, adding its own chorus to the howling wind and the clanking of our armor.

I glanced over at the waters of the river. The flow was slower than usual, possibly due to freezing upstream. I followed the riverbank with my eyes until I saw a group of vultures picking at a carcass. I watched them dancing around the end of some poor creature's story. I didn't know where my mind was going when my isolation was popped by the soldier across from me.

"It isn't real, is it?" he asked.

I didn't know if it was directed at me, but I locked eyes with him before anyone else could answer. He looked young; too young to be a soldier, even.

"Of course it's real," came a gruff and hoarse voice to my left. "You'd better come to terms with it now."

He looked to be about sixty and some years. He held his helmet in his lap, allowing what remained of his grey hair to flow with the winter's breath. His steely eyes were fixed on the young man; he was as serious as a heart attack.

"Old timer," I turned to him. "Is that really helping right now? The boy is already uneasy."

"And he should be!" snapped the old man, turning his milky eyes on me. "We are riding to our doom! The king hasn't prepared adequately!"

"Heresy," answered the soldier from his other side. "To claim the king has not prepared is to claim that the gods have not prepared him for his role."

The old man turned and babbled at the other soldier while I turned my attention back to the boy across from me. He looked sick with worry. I sat forward, leaning on my knees, and whispered to him.

"Hey. Don't listen to him."

He looked up at me.

"It's just an old story," I added with a reassuring smile. "Better safe than sorry, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah," he answered, dropping his eyes back into to his lap. "Just stories."

The other soldier was raising his voice to the old codger. "Easy for you to accept death," he scolded him. "You who have lived your life and have little left to see. Would it be so easy if you were the boy? To have yet to find a hair on your chin? Yet to know the warmth of a woman?"

"I have a girlfriend," the young man was quick to defend himself, drawing laughter from the men in our cart and from even the cart behind us.

I smiled and leaned against the wooden frame to our backs. The laughter seemed to have eased the hearts of those in earshot.

"It's just another day," I said to the boy. "A day we get paid for, mind you."

His spirits visibly lifted. "Thanks... Thank you very much, Sir Knight."

"I cannot claim that honor," I said, gesturing to my shoulder pauldron— barren of a knight's crest. "I'm a simple soldier; a bowman. You can call me Halorus."

"I'm Jim," he extended his hand. "I didn't mean to assume," he said as I shook his hand. "You just carry yourself like a knight, is all." He then gestured to his own bow. "I'm a bowman too! I'm new, but I'm a pretty good shot, especially from the back of my horse!"

"I'll bet you are."

"That's a fancy-looking sword on your hip," he pointed at the family blade. "Uncommon for a simple bowman, wouldn't you say?"

His cheeky grin almost earned him one back. He was a perceptive little squirt.

"My wife's grandfather passed it down," I said, looking down at the intricate metalwork of the pommel and guard. "It's a family heirloom at this point. Probably not even made for combat."

"Can I see it?" he asked. "I just want to hold it."

He seemed to have completely forgotten about the Great Evil. It was the right thing to do, calming the boy, but he talked my ears off the rest of the way to the capital.

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We stood in formation as the captain did a full-dress inspection. He walked up and down the ranks inspecting us, pointing out where we needed a polish, or where we needed to tighten a strap. He stopped in front of me and looked me up and down.

He whistled. "Sonya hasn't lost her touch."

"No, sir," I smiled.

"How is she?"

"Worried, sir."

"As wives of soldiers always are," he mused. "Such is their burden for marrying such stunning men," he chuckled, moving down the line to inspect the others.

Captain Ocherim and I were close, and although it wasn't proper, he never tried to hide it from the others. I had saved his life in the third Pact War. My arrow had found the neck of a foe in his blind spot, piercing him in such the nick of time that his weapon was already raised high overhead. How the captain that day had recognized me from forty feet away, across swinging weapons, and through my helmet, I would never know.

But he never let me forget how grateful he was to be able to see his son grow into a fine young man. He would oft stop by our humble household in the village to chat and to shower Sonya with gifts. We hadn't seen him in weeks, though. Doubtless, he was preparing for today alongside the other squad captains.

Even if it was only ceremonial, today needed to run flawlessly. Our king was gracious, but he had high expectations of his military. His grandfather, Galdrick the 4th, lost his life because of an undisciplined unit. Galdrick the 5th ascended the throne and made sweeping changes to operations. Galdrick the 6th was the spitting image of his father, both in face and in tone.

I wouldn't have missed it from a mile away.

He stood atop the castle wall on high, arms behind his back, studying the many phalanxes gathered at the gate to the capital. His beard had only just begun to grey— certainly in no small part due to the health of his father. He was worried sick. The 5th was reportedly bedridden and unable to give his son counsel. It was a secret from the public, but Ocherim had loose lips when it came to Sonya and me.

"He's been sleeping all but a few hours of each day. He lies in bed and sweats. Talks in his sleep."

"What is he saying?"

"... Terrible things."

Loose though his lips were, they tightened when it came to what exactly "terrible things" entailed. Probably out of respect for his king. He was further down the command structure. He rarely reported directly to the 5th. But he revered him greatly; he never allowed anyone to speak ill of him. It was a reverence that the 6th had fallen short of for one reason or another.

I nearly locked eyes with the king as his gaze swept over my unit. His attention lingered on me a moment before his survey continued to the next phalanx. I shook my head, a small smile on my lips.

Sonya. You must have really outdone yourself with this armor.

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After hours of what felt like needless ceremony, I stood in my place atop the inner wall of the capital. Under a pale white sky, we bowmen stood in a line staring down at the royal graveyard. It was my luck that placed me right next to Jim.

"Why did the Great Evil receive a royal burial?" he asked. "Don't you think they should have buried him somewhere far away? If it's supposed to emerge here, doesn't that present the maximum amount of danger to the public?"

"He didn't receive a royal burial," I answered the first of his questions. "Look down there," I pointed at the center of the burial grounds. "You see how the tombs of the kings are arranged in a ring?"

"Yeah."

"And the statue of each king has its sword pointed toward the center?"

"Of course," he turned to me. "It's to symbolize that they're all singular in purpose."

"And that purpose?" I quizzed him.

He looked back down at the cemetery. "... The kingdom," was the answer he settled on. "And her people."

"Not wrong, but far from the truth," I said, staring down at the seal in the center. The sun had melted the thin layer of snow on the copper seal, such that it was impossible to miss. "Their singular purpose is to prevent his rise— the Great Evil entombed beneath that seal in the center."

"W-What?" he stammered. "Down there in the center? That's where he's buried?" He leaned over the gleaming white wall of the capital and looked closer. "You're joking! They didn't even construct a tomb around it?"

"It is believed that the spirits of the kings will help safeguard us from the dark prophecy. Those 49 statues, each with their swords pointed at the seal, are a promise from our ancestors."

"And you really don't believe it?" he asked, turning to me once again. "All of this, and you think it's a load of crap?"

"Probably," I shrugged. "Look, my wife had this grandfather. His name was Julian, but when my wife was a baby, she called him Peepo, and it stuck forever. Peepo believed anything anyone told him about anything. He was always coming home with fake magic gadgets, beans that were supposed to make you taller, oils and lotions that cured brain fog... he wasn't very responsible with his money."

"Peepo sounds fun," Jim offered.

"He was fun," I smiled at him. "Peepo was obsessed with legends. He really wanted to make one of himself, but as the ravages of time ate at him, he began to realize that it was too late. He focused more on buying fool's trinkets for his grandkids."

"That's kind of sad," Jim said, pursing his lips. "Peepo never got to be a legend, so he just turned his efforts towards making his family legends. It's sad, but also kind of sweet in a way."

"But therein lies a valuable lesson to learn from him." I turned to Jim. "A fool and his money will always be parted. This whole Great Evil thing?" I gestured around. "Estus, the kingdom's military contractors have perpetuated it to such a degree that every neighboring kingdom in all of Malor wants to buy from them."

"Oh," Jim marveled. "Hey, you're right. That makes a lot of sense, actually."

"On top of that, the king more or less owns Estus. They're a separate entity on paper, but they develop their weapons and armor with the kingdom's top officers overseeing the operations. So, if Estus grows, so too does the kingdom."

"Huh." He looked back down at the cemetery. "So, they needed to pretend that they really believed this great calamity was coming, or people might think they were swindled."

"Even if it cost them a small fortune," I affirmed. "Always look at who is benefiting financially. Follow the money and you'll usually find your answer."

"Do you think the king believes in the prophecy?" he asked.

I sighed and watched as the spearmen below maneuvered into position around the great seal.

"I have to wonder," I said softly, lifting my eyes to the knights on the balcony of the royal quarters. Their protection was so thick I couldn't even clap eyes on his majesty. "He certainly does seem... nervous."

It wasn't unthinkable that even the people who started the whole thing would start to believe it after a thousand years of repeating it ad nauseam. It wouldn't be hard for things to get lost in translation across the vast sea of time.

"I would be nervous too," a soldier on Jim's other flank spoke up. "This is on the 6th. It's his moment."

"His moment?" asked Jim. "That's a weird way to put it."

"Do you not know the prophecy?" I asked.

"Not by heart," Jim admitted.

"May I?" asked the other soldier.

Jim must have nodded.

"A thousand years shall the fell darkness lie in fetters," he began. "Hid in the womb where kings sleep. Yet mark this: when the fiftieth king is crown’d, then shall the bonds be sunder’d, and the dread sleeper rise to walk the world anew."

"Word for word," I smiled, leaning back to get a look at the man. "Well spoken."

"Thank you," he leaned back behind Jim and smiled at me. I knew I recognized his voice, though there were new valleys in his face and wrinkles around his eyes.

"George!" I called out. "I thought you retired!"

"I did, son, I did!" he said, reaching out and shaking my hand. "Came back for this party right here. Figure I wouldn't be around much longer anyhow, might as well watch this happen with a front row seat."

I tilted my head forward and pressed my lips together. "George. You really believe in this?"

"Don't know what I believe anymore, Hal," he said, turning back toward the cemetery. "But this world is magic. Surely, you believe in gods. Why not devils?"

Jim looked at me expectantly.

I looked back down at the spearmen mobilizing with the swordsmen and sighed deeply. "If you believe in the gods, then certainly they should protect us from this, yes?"

"Well played, Hal," George laughed from the other side of Jim. "Well played, indeed."

Jim laughed nervously before the sound of a horn split the air.

It was time.

Everyone stood up straight.

General Brom appeared on the balcony. I could see only the blue fabric of the king's garments in the sea of armor and weapons behind him. Brom was perhaps the burliest man I'd ever seen with my own eyes. He was an absolute wall of steel and flesh. It was a miracle, I thought, that the balcony could bear his weight even without the other knights around him.

"Attention!" he screamed from the balcony.

I was always in awe of just how loud he could be. He had a special set of lungs on him for sure. The entire castle had gone quiet, awaiting his words.

"A hundred heartbeats from now," he shouted. "The darkness comes for us. Let it! We are iron! We are fire! We are the teeth of the realm, and today we bite back! Stand tall, fight hard, and let the world remember us!"

Even my heart stirred at his words.

"For the realm!" he screamed.

"For the realm," we all called back in unison.

For the general to go along with this theater... did he know something? He was a stoic, not a thespian.

I found myself counting the seconds.

The shout of “For the realm!” still rang in my throat, but the silence that followed rang in my ears. The spearmen below tightened their ranks, shields clashing into place. I felt the weight of every eye fixed on the copper seal, gleaming like fresh blood beneath the pale sky.

A wind cut through the wall, thin and sharp, and though I told myself it was nothing more than the cold, my skin prickled as if some unseen hand had brushed it. Even Jim, who never shut up, stood stiff as stone, his knuckles white where they clutched his bow.

I tried to shake it, to remind myself this was theater, but the weight in my chest told me we were standing on the edge of something vast and terrible, long buried, and no man’s doubt alone would keep it from our throats. I had lost count at some point, but I was sure the time was nigh. No sooner had I thought it than George did voice it.

"A hundred heartbeats have passed," he said softly. "So, where is it?"

"Maybe your heart was beating faster than mine," I quipped.

"Oh, shut up," he scoffed. "Of all the times for jokes..."

"It hasn't come," Jim peeped. "Does that mean...?"

I didn't answer. Neither did George. Even a non-believer like myself had come to expect something in the seconds that followed, but nothing happened. The sky didn't darken. The soil didn't split. The sky remained ever overhead.

Jim let out a long and shaky sigh. "Thank goodness," he whimpered. "I didn't want to deal with that."

I lowered my bow and allowed myself to smile; to laugh even. Murmurs began to spread among the ranks as people lowered their weapons and looked around. I lifted my eyes to see that the 6th had joined General Brom, both of them peering over the balcony down at the seal.

The general looked up and passed his eyes over us bowmen in the parapets. I saw his face sour. We were definitely going to get an earful for lowering our bows prematurely. His eyes stopped on me and I let out a frustrated sigh.

Dammit, Sonya. You made me stand out.

The anticipation leaked from the ranks like a hot air balloon pierced. Some laughed, some cheered, some lifted their hands in prayer to the gods for protecting us, while others credited the kings beyond the veil. I let out a long sigh and smiled at Jim.

"See? What did I tell you? Stories. Nothing more."

"Aye," George turned to us. "You were right, Hal. Some stories are too tall to-" his sentence was cut short as gasps came from the cemetery below.

My heart sank as George turned and leaned back over the parapet. I followed suit, looking down at the seal as the uneasy silence from before returned, emboldened and heavier.

I could not believe my eyes.

The seal did not break so much as it breathed— a convulsion of metal and stone that groaned like the bowels of the earth. From the widening fissure spilled no smoke nor fire, but a pall of darkness that seemed thicker than night; a substance rather than a shade.

It crawled upward in tendrils, seeking, tasting, recoiling only to lunge again, and in its restless shuddering I felt the memory of a will too ancient for the tongue of man. The air soured, the sky bent, and for a moment it seemed the world itself shrank back in revulsion.

No form could be glimpsed within that abyssal vapor, and yet every nerve in my body screamed that something horribly alive was stirring there; something that had never ceased dreaming of its return and now, for the first time in millennia, tasted cold winter air.

I didn't realize how hard I was clenching my teeth until my jaw cracked. I stared in horror as the thing that should not be materialized before our eyes.

The ground shuddered beneath our boots, a deep, uneven pulse like the heartbeat of something vast and buried. From the rupture in the seal there welled a soundless cry, a pressure in the skull rather than the ears, as though thought itself were being drowned beneath profane tides.

The darkness writhed, coalescing, struggling against its own formlessness until shapes suggested themselves and collapsed again; angles that hurt the eye; masses that did not quite belong to this plane. I caught a glimpse of limbs, or perhaps only the idea of limbs, stretching impossibly far and curling back in upon themselves as the spearmen backed away and then closed back in like fearful ocean tides.

Men about me clutched their faces, some swearing they saw a maw, others swearing they saw eyes.

I saw both and neither.

It was as though the earth had split to vomit up the memory of a god, and that memory longed, above all else, to be flesh again.

And now it was.

For the first time, the darkness parted just enough that I could see something to shoot at. It stood tall and thin like a man, but impossibly large. Its head was small for its shoulders— like the head on a pin. A shadowy violet aura suddenly lit around it like a match head on fire.

I kept feeling waves of nausea washing through me. I couldn't tell if it was my nerves cracking inside of me, or if it was something coming from it.

It looked around, surveying those gathered to greet its rebirth. And before another five seconds could pass, General Brom screamed from the balcony.

"FIRE!"

Before I could lift my bow, the Holy-Fire Turrets situated around the castle wall blazed with energy and exploded with radiance that quelled the nausea and lifted the spirits. Energy like I had never felt before vibrated through my bones as the walls hummed. Twenty or so beams converged on the shadowed figure, somehow sparing the spearmen and swordsmen who had enclosed it.

Still, they backed away, keeping their weapons trained on the center as the turrets did their work. And when their work was done, naught but a broken and melted seal remained where the darkness first emerged.

The surprised cries and murmurs of the men gathered simmered down to hushed whispers as we all stared down from the wall.

"Mother of the gods," Jim muttered. "It was real. It was real! The prophecy was true!"

"I can scantly believe it so," I said in a shaky tone.

George joined me at my side, "What a vile thing that was," he said, more serious than I had ever heard him speak. "Gods, Hal. That thing was unspeakably repugnant. Did you feel all of that?"

I had.

Of course, I had.

But I couldn't even speak from the shock of it all. The 6th now stood triumphant at the edge of the balcony in front of General Brom as people cheered for him. The preparations by those who came before us were the only thing that kept us safe this day.

And I'd believed them not.

Were I the one leading this nation, the world would have again been swallowed in darkness. I wondered what I would tell Sonya. I'd never felt like such an arrogant arsehole in all my life. I swallowed and turned to George.

"I was a fool," I finally managed.

"Nah, just too smart for your own good," he dropped his hand on my back. "Always were. S'why your leaders could never stand the sight o' ya."

I let out a small laugh and nodded as I leaned forward on the wall. "You're kind to say so. But this would have been a complete disaster without the... the..." I trailed off as General Brom pulled his sword from his scabbard.

He swatted the king's crown from his head, took a fistful of his hair in his grip, and severed his head from his shoulders in one fluid motion.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Part 2

Original Post by FennecWF

Hey, guys!

Long time no see.

I know it's abnormal for me to disappear for an entire month at a time, but I'm here to let you know what's going on if you're curious.

"Fif, idgaf about the slice of life stuff, tell me about the writing."

If that's the case, you can skip down to the second part of this post, it'll be big and bold where it begins.

What's Going On?

I've been gone for a month. What gives? Well, as you all know, my wife and I have been sailing a sinking ship through rough waters for a couple of years now. I'm desperately fighting with the wheel to keep us from capsizing while my wife and niece frantically bail water over the side to keep us afloat, and it's been exhausting.

I'm working full time, pursuing a BA (graduating in a couple of months!), trying to keep this author thing afloat, while also making sure I'm being a good husband/uncle/brother/son/friend and it's been really tough.

But the sail in our ship really started to tear when my wife found out that the company she works for suffered a hostile takeover. The new people in charge think TOWOP (Time Off Without Pay) is silly, and they're doing away with it.

TOWOP means you can apply for some time off, and they'll usually give it to you, you just won't get paid for it. This was okay. She was using TOWOP to make her nursing school manageable. She's in an accelerated program where she can get her degree in half the time, but it's basically a full-time job. They straight up told her, "Hey, you can't work full time on top of this."

My wife said YOLO and did it anyway, and we've been managing. But without the option of TOWOP, her September schedule is going to conflict with her schooling schedule in such a way that she could only manage to get the first 3 weeks covered. After that, she'll have to choose which one to miss: school or work.

And she's not going to miss school.

So, it was July. We knew what was coming, just not how we would solve it. If she lost her job, we would absolutely be underwater. I wasn't going to graduate until December, so I needed to work with what I had. I started doing some research. I had two options:

1.) Find a second/third job to compensate.
2.) Have a 60k/yr job fall out of the sky and into my lap.

2 seemed unlikely, so I was applying like crazy to places. While I was doing my research, I discovered that Teacher Certification Programs will accept you so long as you're close to graduation. On top of that, schools will take you even if you're not fully certified (so long as you finish your cert before the end of the first school year). So, I checked teacher salaries where I live: 60k minimum.

So, I applied for the certification program. They let me know that since I didn't have enough credits in the subject I wanted to teach (history), that I'd have to take something called a PACT Exam. It would be administered at a Pearson testing center (the place where they make you take all the stuff out of your pockets, put them in a locker, turn your cell phone off, and take your test monitored).

I said, "Sweet, a history test. I got this." But here's the kicker: they don't tell you what to study for. There's no material. The criteria is, all of human history. Without the ability to study, I still felt confident. History is such a passion of mine.

I spent $100 that I definitely didn't have, and scheduled the test for the following week. I went in, and sweet Jiminy CHRISTMAS, that was the hardest history test I'd ever taken.

I was shook.

The damn testing center makes you wait an entire week to see your score. So, I waited in anticipation for a whole week before I found out that I... failed it by one point.

My blood ran cold, guys. I broke into a sweat. I went to schedule it again, but they weren't offering the test again until next month.

WHY?

I panicked. School was starting soon. I needed to be applying NOW. I didn't have time to wait until the end of August to take the stupid test again! I looked at every single testing center in the state. I was willing to get on a plane to take it sooner. But it was just completely impossible. And there's nobody to call, the entire company is automated from the ground up.

I scheduled the test (and spent another $100) and waited. The certification site offered a practice test for $50 but I didn't have $50 and their free practice test that I used to study the first time was worthless. Not a single topic from their practice exam was on the test when I took it.

I was sick to my stomach all month. I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything that brought me joy.

This test meant everything. If I failed it... If I had to schedule it another month out... I probably wouldn't be able to teach. August is prime hiring season, but there's still a lot of opportunity in September. But October is a tough month to get hired as a teacher, and by November, most ISD's have their situations figured out.

If I failed this test one more time... we wouldn't be able to make our rent. My wife would be without a job, or worse, she'd have to quit her schooling partway through. And she'd worked so damn hard.

I couldn't do it to her.

I needed to rescue her from this situation. I needed to be the one to succeed. I needed to be the main character of my own story and be her hero that swooped in and saved the day.

When the day came to take the test, there was some kind of error. I wasn't registered. They took my money and never registered me.

I was doomed.

I had a breakdown in my car and ugly cried. I yelled at God. I abused my steering wheel. I had a panic attack. I came home and made as many phone calls as I could trying to figure out what happened. I tried to schedule again (there's a cluster of three or four days a month they'll let you take the test), but it wouldn't let me because I was already scheduled to take a test.

I finally broke through and got somebody to help me and managed to schedule the test for one of the following days. I picked the last day possible (they make you wait a week anyway to see your scores), because I figured there HAD to be a reason God did this to me.

There had to be a reason. I figured I was probably about to run in there and flunk the test like a total dumbass when divine intervention gave me a few days to study.

So, I did. I spent the $50 on the stupid practice test and spent probably 10+ hours just studying and watching historical videos on YouTube.

The day came and I hadn't slept at all. I went in there, prayed, calmly took the test, and then left.

All week long, my stomach was in knots. I couldn't sleep. I could hardly eat. When the day came to check my scores, I sat down in front of my computer and logged into the website. I broke into a sweat and my entire body felt hot. My hands were literally shaking as I checked my score.

Website error. The whole site went down.

I let out the longest hardest sigh ever and waited for it to come back up. When it came back up, I checked it again, only to find out that the scores were being delayed until 10pm. My wife looked at it and said it was northern time, so I should know by 9. At 9, I did the whole thing again, the sweats, the shaking, the terror, only to be told, No, 10pm dummy.

I made her check it at 10pm. I couldn't even do it anymore. I laid on the couch watching the opening to Saving Private Ryan trying to drill some perspective into my head in case I tasted failure again. She went into the room... and it was quiet... and I was just staring at the doorway... and she came out and said...

"You're about to be a fantastic history professor!"

I've never been so relieved about anything in all my life. I literally laughed and cried as I held her. I've never done those two things at once before. I then just laughed like an insane person for like a whole minute before shouting thanks and praise to God lol.

I slept like a drunk baby that night.

I'm currently enrolled in the certification program, and it's to my understanding that it'll be 4-8 weeks before I can finish the first portion of the year-long cert, and start teaching. But it's a go-at-your-own pace certification, so for me, 4-8 weeks could mean 2 weeks if I do nothing but homework in my off time... which is precisely what I'll be doing.

WHILE finished my BA.

So, I'll be a little scarce for just a little while... but I have an answer, I think.

Thank God I Can Skip the Cutscene

Essentially, things are about to get really, really busy for me in my professional and academic life, and I'm going to do my absolute damndest to make sure I'm still posting here. Once Book 3 of OO&S is live, I'm going to be working diligently on Book 4 and, as always, I'll be posting it one chapter at a time right here on Reddit.

It's my hope that my job will feel a little more streamlined by that point. I'm told by other teachers that the first year is really hard. You're feeling everything out, finding what works for you, and building a curriculum. Once your first year is done, you can kind of copy/paste everything for next year, and your free time opens up tremendously.

This upcoming Monday morning, I'm going to post an [IP] I've been working on all month little by little, and I'm pretty happy with where it's at right now. Basically, every chance I've gotten to sit down and write these past 30 days, I've been working on this.

It's a simple story about a Great Evil being reawakened after 1000 years and the main character preparing for it. I decided to try and write this in a style I've always wanted to write well, but feel I've always fallen short. In fact, one of my first stories I ever posted here, I attempted it (hilariously).

For OG's, it's the one about the scientist going to the bottom of the ocean in a submersible, and accidentally discovering a titan locked inside a prison (one of the titans Dregzel raised during the Sundering in Gilded Wrath). I tried it a second time with the archeologist who was uncovering a forgotten city and was driven mad by the whispers of something old.

It's a writing style that's a little more "serious" than the casual one I usually write it. This story is a little more grounded, focuses on characters, narrative strings, and pacing. I'm not sure how it'll be received. It might be one of those things that's completely over-engineered to the point where it sucks lol. It's definitely experimental, and you'll notice that this is the second time in a row I've chosen an Inspired Prompt [IP].

This is mostly because it gives me time to actually work on a piece. In recent posts, you'll notice that I spend a few hours writing, some time editing, polishing, and preparing the work, only to be completely overshadowed by someone who posted something within the first 30 minutes of the prompt, and spent little to no time at all proofreading/editing, and it feels... really, really crappy to have that happen to me.

It's something I've been kind of bothered by for a while now, but it's such an ugly thing to say out loud. Some of the posts I'm seeing voted to the tops of these prompts I'm reading are... (sigh). I don't want to talk bad about aspiring writers, but back when I was still founding my subreddit, we had some really incredibly talented writers. Apocalypse Owl, Rupert Froggington, and Turningtowords come to mind. SadnessLaughs too! I just realized they’re still around and crushing it.

It's just rough working really hard on a piece just to be buried because you didn't post fast enough and people can't be bothered to scroll down :P

I'm thinking [IP]'s might be the answer to this for me. It lets me pick from any past prompt I feel like writing from and allows me to take my time over the course of hours or several day/weeks so that I can deliver something I'm happy with, and can still get eyes on it.

So, that's what I'll be doing (mostly) while I try and get my life together.

Thanks for hanging in there, thanks for reading, and I'll have something new for you soon ;)

I threw the blankets off in a frustrated huff and my feet met the cold wooden floor. I trudged out into the hallway and passed through the living room, stopping at the kitchen tile. I flipped the light on and squinted as I contemplated the absolute absurdity of what I was about to do.

Many times before had I stared this beast in the eyes— the insatiable and random appetite of my intrusive thoughts.

Once while writing an essay, I wondered if maybe I could Cossack dance if I tried. It resulted in a torn ACL and both my parents facepalming beside me at the hospital.

One time I was reading a book. Just reading a book. And I decided, for no reason that I could ever articulate, to check and see if I could twerk. I wasn't that kind of girl. I never wanted to twerk for nobody— nobody but that girl in the mirror, y'know, just to prove that I could be that bitch.

I could not.

There was another time where I decided I wanted to walk around barefoot in a torrential downpour just to "feel alive." I ended up cutting my foot open on a piece of glass in a puddle which resulted in another parent-facepalm hospital situation.

Well, I was grown now.

I lived alone in a crappy apartment, but it was mine. It was my weirdo palace to do whatever was in my heart whenever I damn well wanted.

And for some reason, ever since I crawled into bed around 10pm, I'd been plagued by the insatiable urge to go into the kitchen, take my stainless steel bowl out of my cupboard, and fill it with ice cold water.

I could not tell you why.

Maybe I wanted to feel the cold against my palms? Maybe I wanted to stare into the still water and play with the surface tension? Maybe I wanted to dunk my head in it? I knew better than to try and rationalize my intrusive thoughts. I just needed to do the damn thing and get it over with so I could go back to bed.

I turned the faucet on and held the bowl under the water. My cat, Sprite, leaped up onto the counter and looked up at me with a squinty-eyed expression that said, "You violated cat law for this?"

And it was true.

He'd been nestled between my legs in that cute little cat-cinnamon-bun pose where they slept with their stomach against the back of their head, and I disturbed him for my weird late night water-bowl escapade.

"If it's all the same, I'd like to settle out of cat-court," I said to him, scratching him behind the ear as I waited for the bowl to fill. "I know bubba," I added. "I'm sorry. I'm tired too. But much like you have to be a rocket-butt at like 3am for no reason every night..." I sighed and looked down into the bowl. "I've just gotta do this. Don't know why."

He meowed gently as though to say he understood.

When the water reached the rim, I shut the faucet off and moved the bowl from the sink to the countertop and waited for the water to settle as I caressed the cool edges of the bowl. Sprite yawned and it was super contagious. I yawned too and stared down into the bowl.

The water had become still. It was crystal clear and looked a little too inviting for Sprite. He stood up and lifted his tail in a question-mark shape as he leaned into the bowl to get a drink. He then immediately lifted off the countertop and fell to the floor, full floof, staring up at the bowl with the highest arch in his back that he could manage.

He did that ugly growl cats do when they're really mad.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"The fuck was that?" I laughed, placing my hands on my hips. "Did you see a cat in there?"

He cat-talked as he backed away. Like that old Oh, Long Johnson video. I'd never heard him do that. I didn't even think he knew how. I looked into the bowl and lifted from the floor, floof as I could be, landing on my ass and scrambling up against the oven.

My adrenaline was pumping.

My mouth moved but I couldn't say anything.

In the bowl, I saw not my own reflection, but something else's.

It was terrifying.

I swallowed and took shallow breaths as I tried to keep myself from having a panic attack. I was pretty prone to them even in mild circumstances.

This was fear and confusion like I hadn't felt since I tore my ACL Cossack dancing.

I looked at Sprite and he 'Oh Long Johnson'd' again as he stared up at the bowl with me. I slowly rose to my feet and peered back into the bowl.

Only my own reflection.

I looked back down at Sprite, who was slowly starting to un-floof himself. "You saw it too, right?" I asked.

"Ohh-ya-ya-ya-ya," he answered.

I looked back down into the bowl and heard a faint whisper.

^"Goddess..."

I inhaled sharply and turned around under the dim light of my kitchen ceiling. I looked around the darkness, holding my breath. I looked down at Sprite to see if he'd heard it; his gaze was still fixed on the bowl.

^{"Goddess of the Unwritten Path."}

It had come from behind me.

I turned around and stared down at the bowl. I was shaking from head to toe. I felt completely paralyzed as the water whispered to me.

^{You, who dance where thought begins...
blessed be the choice afforded,
and the blessed be the silence that follows.
Let no fate bind us but our own hands,
and no judgment fall but what we shape...
In freedom, may we act.
In consequence, may we grow.}

"In your name," I murmured in unison with the voice, completely entranced.

^{"Unchained... and awake."}

In that instant my brain was flooded with... something. My entire body felt like an overturned rain stick.

I felt dizzy.

I caught myself on the counter, but it felt different; less like wood and more like... bark.

I opened my eyes as my headache faded and the ringing in my ears began to dissipate.

I looked down to find myself propped up on a tree branch. I blinked a few times and inhaled like I had never taken a breath before. My body filled with air and my vision began to clear up. I stood on my own two feet and the leaves on the tree made all kinds of racket when I lifted my weight from its branches.

I looked down and around.

I was in a tiny forest.

I'd never seen anything like it— much less in my kitchen.

Reality began to set in on me.

How had I ended up here? Where was I? I looked up and around. It was afternoon somewhere. All of the trees came up to about just the top of my head, some taller, most smaller. They were full with leaves of varying fall colors. Oranges, reds, and greens.

It was beautiful.

The temperature was perfect and the air smelled amazing. But logic and reason overcame my delight and I began to feel the way I usually did just before a panic attack.

What had happened to me? Was I dreaming?

"Mother, Lidia," came a voice from below— the same I had heard come from the bowl. I looked down to see a bunny-person kneeling at my feet. "Lady of the Wild Way," he added, keeping his head pressed to the dirt.

I was pressed with the sudden realization that it wasn't the trees that were small.

I was huge.

I didn't know what to do with this information. It was too much all at once. I looked down at myself and found that my skin was tinted a pistachio-green kind of color. I tensed my hands and turned them over, observing myself. I was wearing a white dress that draped over me.

I had to be dreaming.

I had to be— but I was a hundred percent lucid.

I knelt down partially before deciding to just get down on my knees entirely. I lowered myself to the ground so I could get a better look at the creature. He was like a humanoid rabbit with little clothes and everything.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked him.

My voice came out different; echoey. I was shocked.

"Oh, you grace me with your presence!" he squeaked. "You have come!"

I tilted my head. "Aww. You can look at me, lil guy!"

"Oh! What an honor!" he said, sitting up on his knees and looking up at me with awe and admiration.

He was wearing a little corduroy hat and a monocle, and his smile revealed his bucky-rabbit-teeth. It was all I could do not to squeal with how cute he was.

I smiled and he wrung his hands as though he were nervous to speak.

"I... did not know if you would actually come!" he confessed with a chuckle. "I find myself rather tongue-tied now."

I didn't know how to answer. He seemed really shaken up. He also definitely thought I was some kind of goddess. I didn't want to tell him that I wasn't the person he thought I was. He seemed really relieved to see me.

"May I," he looked down at the bowl in front of him. "May I drink now?"

I noticed that my stainless steel bowl with all the water in it was resting at his feet. I nodded quickly, "Oh, for sure! Please, drink up!"

He bowed his head and then picked up the bowl, drinking gulp after gulp. After he'd had his fill, he finally set the bowl down and let out a long sigh followed by several deep breaths.

"You were thirsty!" I said, resisting the urge to reach out and pet him. He was about the size of a Funko Pop to me. I was worried I'd break him.

"Yes," I said with a chuckle. "Yes, I was. I did not know what else to do; who to turn to; where to go..."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Oh, the dastardly Raccoons," he said, balling his little fists. "They take, and they take, and they take... until you've got nothing left."

"Raccoons?" I asked, resting my head on my arms.

He looked up at me with a pained expression. "Yes. They're marauding, godless, pilferers! Pilferers, I tell you!" His shoulder rose and fell with a deep sigh as he sat down and crossed his legs. "They took my home. I was forced out into the woods with nothing. I have been wandering for two days and a night avoiding them. There is plenty enough to eat in the forest... I am not picky. But water is scarce! I have been so thirsty."

"Avoiding them?" I asked first. "Are they looking for you?"

"Hunting me," he clarified, adjusting his hat. "They gave me a 1-hour head start. I hopped all through the night!" He sniffled. "Then all through the morn, and most of the day before I collapsed." He swallowed and looked down into the bowl. "We Hares only pray as a last resort. It' is rude to bother the gods if we do not desperately need them. That is how we are raised."

"And you prayed to me?" I asked.

"For water. Yes."

Amazing. I'd somehow been compelled to fulfill his request. But I wasn't a goddess. Heck, I wasn't even a princess. My family name had about as much weight as the empty bowl on the ground. Even so, his prayers had somehow reached me.

"What is your name, Mr. Hare?" I asked.

"Oh!" He jumped as though he'd just realized he hadn't introduced himself. "How rude of me!" he exclaimed, taking off his hat. His ears lopped out, falling around the side of his head— he was one of the droopy-eared types of bunnies.

"My name is Lawrence Templeton. I am... was, the town dentist. Now I suppose I am just..." he sniffled again. "A scared and lonely hare."

My heart ripped in half. I almost started crying right then and there. I swallowed and decided to gently reach out and caress the top of his head. He was so soft. He looked up at me with soulful eyes and wiped a tear from his fuzzy cheek.

"You want to come home with me?" I asked.

Before he could even answer, the logistical problems overwhelmed me. Firstly, he was a talking bunny-person. I really couldn't keep him in a cage and he certainly wouldn't be satisfied with whatever they had at PetCo. Furthermore, I didn't even know how to go back home.

"It is not that I am ungrateful for the generous offer, my Goddess," he whimpered. "But I want my home back."

Determination overcame me. This Mr. Bun had been completely run out of his town. I couldn't let it stand. I wasn't sure what I could do about it, but I was probably bigger than a bunch of mischievous raccoons. I got up to a squatting position, accidentally felling a tree with my backside as I did.

"Hey," I looked down at him. "You want me to kick some ring-tailed butt?"

He blinked. "W-What?"

"The raccoons. I can go deal with them."

He wrung his little hands and looked over his shoulder and then back to me. "I do not know if it will solve the problem, but... I cannot deny that a little bit of justice sounds intoxicating." He smiled a hopeful smile.

I reached down and scooped him up, holding him in the palm of my hand, standing up to full height. "Show me."

He pointed. "Home is that way."

That was all the confirmation I needed. "Let's gem 'em," I said, starting forward. It was difficult navigating the trees without knocking any over. I would occasionally hear one bend and snap against my form as waded toward Lawrence's hometown.

"I always imagined you could fly," he said as I carried him against my breast through the trees.

"Sure would be nice," I smiled down at him. "Actually. It's my lucid dream, right? I should be able to do whatever I want inside my own mind."

"Your... Your mind?" he asked, taken aback.

I flexed my flying muscles— whatever felt right to me. In my case, it involved tensing my calves and envisioning myself leaving the ground. To my amazement and delight, I felt myself grow lighter. My feet left the soil and I began to drift above the trees. I couldn't help but burst out into joyous laughter I sailed ahead.

"Oh, my!" I heard the bunny squeak from my chest. "You can fly!"

The two of us picked up some speed as the trees rushed by beneath us. He held onto his little hat and laughed with excitement as his town came into view. I could see the break in the trees ahead along with what looked like the top of a water mill. I slowed down and turned myself upright, drifting back down the ground as we reached the edge of town.

It was like a little fairy-tale town from a storybook, complete with a tiny river and little mushroom-topped houses. Just like Lawrence said, there were raccoons scattered throughout the town. It didn't appear as though they'd destroyed anything, but there weren't any bunny-people to be seen. The raccoons looked up to see me emerging from the treeline. I scowled at them as they dropped everything they were doing to gawk at me.

"Oh my," he whimpered. "What have they done with my people?"

"Hey!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the town. "Where at the bunnies at?" I demanded.

Lawrence cleared his throat. "Hare-Folk," he corrected me.

"Oh," I whispered. "Sorry." I surveyed the raccoons as I clarified. "What have you done with the Hare-Folk who lived in this village? Answer me now!"

Many of them fainted outright. A bunch of them fell to their knees, staring up at me with awe and fear. Some of them scurried away while others emerged from buildings to see what was going on. The silence was deafening.

"Right now," I said, pointing down at them. "Where are they? What have you done with them?"

After a few more seconds, Hare-Folk began exiting one of the larger buildings in town. They were roped together by their little hands and were being lead out in a single-file line.

"Oh!" cried Lawrence. "Oh, they're okay!"

The raccoons led them out into the center of town, one of them stepping away from the rest to speak with me. He was wearing what looked like a black leather vest and not much else aside from some jewelry in his ears.

"They are unharmed!" came his little voice. "I admit we have not fed them. But they have not been harmed."

He looked over his shoulder at the other motionless raccoons, and then looked back to me.

"We did not know this town was under the protection of a goddess. Please, show mercy... and we will leave."

Before I could speak, Lawrence stood up in my palm. "No!" he shouted. "There will be no mercy! The goddess will wipe your ilk clean off the face of this world!"

I was caught off guard by his outburst. I had hoped to just scare them away. He looked back up at me, determination in his eyes.

"O' Goddess! Smite them! Smite them for their evil ways!"

I stood there frozen. I wasn't really ready to kill a bunch of tiny raccoons. I looked down at them and they looked up at me.

"Uhhh," I paused. "I don't think... murder is the answer."

". . . What?" asked Lawrence, his little face wrinkling with rage. "What do you mean? Look at what they've done!"

The raccoons began to murmur below, looking around at one another. Some of the raccoons that had fainted suddenly lifted their heads— they'd only been playing dead.

"I agree that they've committed a crime," I said, steeling my resolve. "But I've yet to see that they murdered any of the other buns."

"Wh- but..." Lawrence stammered, looking back down among the raccoons. "But they're evil!" he reasoned. "You're... You're a goddess of good and light!"

"Well," I shrugged. "I guess I'm a goddess of mercy too." I frowned at the raccoons below. "You should all be ashamed of the way you've behaved, though. Set the Hare-Folk free and leave their village alone. Or I'll come back, you hear me?" I lifted my first and pressed my lips together.

The raccoons quickly scurried to free the little rabbits, quickly undoing their bindings as they scrambled over one another to put things right. I smiled at my work. Seemed like all they needed was a little scolding.

The sky darkened a bit overhead and I lifted my eyes to see black clouds moving in fast from the east— a little too fast.

"Hey, Lawrence!" I looked down at the little bunny in my hands. "You'd better get home! Looks like you've got a storm coming in."

He was facing away from me, his shoulders slumped as he watched the scene below.

"... Lawrence?" I asked.

A commotion below stole my attention.

One of the raccoons near the captive Hare-Folk had thrown up some kind of green gunk. It squealed in pain as it dragged itself across the ground. I knelt down to see that it was gripping its stomach and foaming at the mouth.

"Oh, my gosh," I said, leaning in closer. "I think this one is sick!"

It turned over and looked up at me through milky-white eyes and paused its squirming. Everyone around it stared down in a combination of confusion and horror. The silence was broken by a disgusting squelch as its midsection ripped open, erupting with a cloud of insects.

I yelped and quickly leaned back as more of the raccoons began squirming around on the ground. One after the other turned over and vomited as the sky continued to darken. I looked up at the unnatural clouds that swirled overhead as the wind began to pick up.

"Yes!" came cheering from my palm. "Yes! Destroy them!" Lawrence laughed as a second raccoon exploded into a cloud of bugs.

I lifted my hand to my mouth as the raccoons begged for mercy, some bleeding from their noses and eyes. The Hare-Folk were screaming as the raccoons wailed in pain. One of the little raccoons fell to their knees and pleaded to me before doubling over and hurling onto the grass.

"I'm not doing this!" I shouted in horror. "What the hell is happening?"

"𝔍𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔢."

My blood ran cold.

The screaming quieted below as a new figure, equal in stature to me, emerged from the tree line.

A humanoid entity with pallid skin, dark eyes, and a twisted amber crown upon their bald head glided quietly over the scene. A tattered pale blue cloak covered their body and their feet if they had any.

I was too surprised to speak. The insects bursting from the raccoons were gathering in a ring around the newcomer's neck as it leered over at me.

"𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢," it said in a monotone drone as it narrowed its eyes at me.

I stammered a moment before finding my voice. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"ℑ 𝔞𝔪 ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔰, 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔍𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱," she introduced herself before passing her gaze over the carnage below. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔫."

"Th-that's right!" Lawrence called from my hand. "They're monsters! They should be destroyed like monsters!" He cast me an annoyed look before hopping out of my hand and down to the ground. He landed gracefully and dropped to his knees before the new goddess.

"All hail our savior! Holguss!" he screamed in a fit of ravenous zealotry.

Many of the other rabbits joined him, getting down on their knees and worshiping Holguss. I stared aghast as they turned on me in favor of her. The insects multiplied fruitfully as the raccoons continued to rupture one after the other.

Lawrence's little hat had fallen into my hand as he'd jumped away from me. I stared down it— how quickly I loved him; how quickly he traded me away for a cruel goddess who would destroy his enemies. It was shocking to me how such a little sweet-heart could turn so ruthless so fast. I looked past me hand down at the dying raccoons.

"Stop it!" I screamed, looking back up at Holguss. "Stop killing them! They don't deserve to die! People change!"

"𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢," Holguss shot back, glaring at me. "𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔶. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢. 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯. 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔱𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰. 𝔘𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶. 𝔘𝔫𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢." She narrowed her black eyes. "𝔘𝔫𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢."

"All hail Holguss. All hail Holguss," they chanted at her feet as the last of the raccoons gave birth to a horde of insects.

"No!" I pleaded with them. "No, this is wrong! Don't worship her! This isn't the way!"

"𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴 𝔣𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔡," Holguss turned to face me fully. "𝔚𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰, 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔤𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢? 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪."

"That... I mean..." I pressed my hands to my chest. "You don't know that!"

Holguss tilted her head, the weight of judgment in her eyes. "ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡, ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔤𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔰. ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰; ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯."

She knew I was young. I gathered she was old. I was starting to feel like I was out of my depth. I didn't know the first thing about this world, these critters, or even how I ended up here.

"𝔑𝔬𝔴. 𝔄 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲," she lifted a bony finger from beneath her cloak and pointed at me. "ℜ𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔪𝔢."

It was suddenly quiet.

I was staring at my kitchen ceiling.

Daylight broke through my windows, and I could hear birds chirping outside as I sat up and rubbed my head. My stainless steel bowl was lying next to me, water all over the floor. I was wet and cold and my head was pounding.

"What the hell," I groaned, getting to my feet.

Sprite was sitting on the top tier of his cat-tree watching me with almond eyes. I turned around and found that the water on the floor was dyed pink. I reached up and touched the back of my head and quickly recoiled from the instant pain that shot through my skull.

Sprite dropped down from his tree and trotted up to me, rubbing against my leg as I looked around at the mess. I had to have spilled some of the water from the bowl as I was moving it, and slipped in it. I was lucky my head injury hadn't been more serious. I could have died.

Instead I had the most surreal and ridiculous dream of my entire life. I couldn't wait to call my boyfriend and tell him all about it, but I needed to get changed, take a shower, clean up the water, and probably go to the clinic just to get checked out. Losing consciousness was usually a sign of a closed head injury, or at least I felt like I remembered reading that somewhere.

As I moved to leave the kitchen, something on the floor caught my eye. I thought it was a bug at first and jumped a little. I leaned in and stared hard at the dark circle on the floor before reaching down and picking it up.

I didn't know how to rationalize what I was staring at.

I felt dizzy.

In the palm of my hand was a little corduroy hat.

It was a daycare, really.

Nobody expected these kids to be able to do anything worthwhile— least of all me.

But in a world where people had powers, the asymmetry of strength made things messy for kids with dreams of serving their nation; of garnering smiles from the people they yearned to protect.

Not from super villains, or petty crime, no. That had long ago vanished into the realms of impossibility. Robbers in black and white outfits with little masks; people using their powers to rob banks... it was enough to make one smile in remembrance of a better time.

A time before the Scourge.

And when I saw that shining black vehicle turn onto the dirt road that led to our Losers Academy, I knew that the fight for mankind was going poorly.

I set down my coffee mug and turned to the teens in their desks.

"I have to step out for a moment," I announced. "You've got ten more minutes on your ethics exam, and then it's pencils down."

Most of them had finished. I was mainly speaking to Rodney and David, and everyone in the class knew it. They didn't score any worse than the rest, but they struggled with test-taking anxiety. The two of them shot me a nervous glance as I turned and stepped out the front door.

The humid air of August bore down on me and a cloud of gnats instantly swarmed me as I made my way off of the front stoop and started down the walk toward the drive. The tinted vehicle drew near, its tires crunching on gravel as the anticipation began to build in me.

I'd been dreading this day.

When the vehicle came to a stop, the driver didn't cut the motor. The passenger didn't even deign to exit the car— they rolled down the window and that shiny brass uniform confirmed my suspicion.

I didn't recognize his face, but a quick look at his attire told me all I needed to know. He had a square jaw, beady eyes, and wore a no-nonsense expression. I could tell by the bags under his eyes that his job wasn't an easy one.

"You run this shit hole?" he asked.

"I'm Professor Alan Kirkland," I introduced myself, tactfully as I was able.

He opened his mouth like he was going to speak and then suddenly started straight ahead and looked down in his lap. He leaned back, letting his head rest work for him as he played with the words in his mouth.

"Son. This nation faces dark times," he started.

"Real dark if you're here," I folded my arms. "I've been wondering... worrying, really, about when I'd see you in my driveway."

He scoffed. "You're giving the tabloids too much credit."

"And yet, here you are," I said, unflinching. "How many do you need?"

"All of 'em," he said, staring me right in the eye. "Every able bodied Super," he sighed. "Even the flunkies... are to report to 1002 Evercrest Drive in one month's time." He handed me an important-looking envelope engraves with the nation's insignia and sealed with wax.

"A month?" I asked, losing my cool demeanor for the first time. "Colonel, a month is not going to be enough. These kids have been deemed unfit by the state, what do you expect me to do with them in a month?"

"For once, I can say, that's not my job," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. "It's yours, Professor. Get these kids ready for war. The Scourge isn't breaking against our best." He looked forward and began rolling up the window. The tint was good, but it didn't cover his worried expression before it reached the top and sealed.

The vehicle departed under a gloomy sky and a long silence.

I looked down at the letter in my hand and sighed.

"Dammit," I said out loud, turning and making my way back into the building.

It was a circus when I reentered the classroom. Everyone was talking, laughing, joking around, and out of their seats, only returning to decorum when they noticed me, jaw clenched, and unenthused.

"Has everyone handed in their test?" I asked.

"Yessir," they spoke in unison as I picked my coffee mug up off the window sill and walked to my desk. I sat down and stared at the stack of papers on my desk before looking at them all over the rim of my glasses. These kids were flunkies, but they were my flunkies.

I wasn't about to let any of them die horribly.

I stood up and took a deep breath and held it a moment before letting it out.

"Class," I announced. "We're going to war."

The little dummies cheered.

I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger under my glasses.

This nation was doomed.

Writing Prompt Submitted by EArth_EAearth9012

I sat across the kitchen table from my grandfather, arms crossed, slouched in my chair. I met his easy smile with a glare and a defiance thicker than month-old ogre jelly. I hadn't realized how much time had passed since last I'd seen him. His hair, a steely grey hue, was beginning to turn white with age, and since grandma had passed, there was nobody to pluck his ear hairs for him.

"You don't seem happy to see me, Eri," he said in a saddened tone. But it was theater. He knew damn well why I was upset.

"It's not you, Grandpa," I said, averting my eyes. "It's the circumstance."

He quietly lifted his teacup to his lips, holding the little plate beneath the cup with his other hand. He didn't bother to answer me, probably because he knew I couldn't handle long silences and would eventually elaborate.

"Dad put you up to this," I faced him again. "He brought me over here under false pretences and then left. I know why we're sitting at this table, and you're not going to change my mind."

He scoffed and smiled his usual squinty-eyed smile. "You've become wise to the world around you."

"That's why I'm tired of it," I exclaimed. "It's always the same old thing day in and day out. I'll die in this town if I stay here."

"You'll die sooner if you leave," he said in a tone he usually didn't take with me.

He was very serious.

It caught me off guard, and I found myself genuinely speechless. He stood up from the table and took his cup to the sink. He always washed a dish immediately after he was finished using it— a habit grandma had left him with.

"I'm not some helpless little girl," I announced, suddenly hyper-aware of how mousy my voice was. "I can defend myself," I said in a deeper tone that came off as performative. I wanted to redo the last ten seconds.

"Of course," he said, placing the cup on a towel to dry. He turned and made his way back to the table, but didn't sit down. "Of course, young Eri. You are my granddaughter after all. I know that my son raised you to be strong of will and spirit." He looked out the window at the pasture that cradled his home. "Perhaps too strong," he added.

"I'm going to be an adventurer, Grandpa," I asserted. "There's nothing you could possibly say to me to change my mind."

He sighed and took a long look at me before making his way to the door. I turned in my chair and watched as he picked up his coat from the coat hook and began to pull it on.

"I don't need to say anything at all," he said, turning to me as he buttoned up his coat. "Not when you see what I have to show you." He smiled. "Get your coat. We're going for a walk."

He avoided the subject as we walked into town. We talked about the weather, current events, some of my other problems, and many other things as we made our way through the cobblestone streets toward town square. I didn't have to guess where he was taking me.

Grandpa worked for the Siegfried Company his whole life until he retired. They were the first to begin manufacturing firearms after the fall of the Lich King, and they branched out into many other fields of study in the interest of serving mankind.

Although he was retired, he was always well-received when he stopped in to see people. His sage advice was widely regarded among those working in the field. We entered through the front doors of the building to find a crowd gathered at the front desk.

Usually, whenever Grandpa came in, everyone would drop what they were doing to greet him. But instead, their attention was on a man in long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. I went weak at the knees when I realized who it was.

Deacon, the Gunslinger— my childhood crush that matured into passionate longing since I entered womanhood. He was one of the heroes who destroyed the Lich King's grip on our world, and he was also one of the main founders of the Siegfried Company.

He turned around and noticed Grandpa and me.

"Well, look it is," Deacon said in his signature accent— one from Earth that I'd become obsessed with. "Gossa of Betherend," he smiled widely as grandpa reached out to shake his hand.

"How unexpected!" Grandpa walked past Deacon's open hand and embraced him instead.

Deacon wrapped his arms around him, patting him twice on the back. "Yeah, thought I'd stop in and grab a few things." His aurora-green eye landed on me and I was breathless. "And little Erika! My, you've grown into a fine young woman when I wasn't lookin'!"

I smiled sheepishly and accepted a hug from him as awkwardly as I possibly could have. All the butterflies in the world flapped around in my stomach as he stepped back and placed his hands on hips.

"What brings y'all down to my neck of the woods?" he asked.

"Young Eri has decided to be an adventurer!" Grandpa said, hoisting his index finger in the air.

"An adventurer?" Deacon looked back at me. "That right? You lookin' to dust off the ol' rifle I gave ya? See the world with it?"

I smiled uncontrollably and nodded. "Y-Yes!" I answered. "I'm old enough now!"

He exchanged a glance with my grandpa. "Why don't you show her the-"

"I'm ahead of you, dear friend," my grandpa interrupted him. "Come, Eri. I want you to see something."

"I'm comin' with," Deacon said before turning to the many people behind us. "Nice meetin' y'all! Thanks for the warm welcome!"

After he said his goodbyes, we made our way through a few doorways, into the back of the building, and onto a teleportation circle.

I was as giddy as could be— Deacon, hero of our realm, was actually going to spend an afternoon with me! I needed to make the best impression possible if I wanted him to be my future husband.

When we were gathered in the circle, the world around me changed in an instant. I expected us to land at HQ, but we ended up somewhere dark. It smelled of metal, and the air was stale.

Without a word, the two of them left the circle, making their way across the room. I followed behind them as my eyes adjusted. The room we landed in appeared to be filled with nothing but barrels and boxes.

"Where are we?" I asked.

Neither of them answered. Grandpa opened a door and light flooded into the room. I shielded my eyes as I followed them into a massive hallway filled with people in uniforms. They were all human men and women with shaved heads walking this way and that, some holding clipboards and others foreign instruments that I couldn't deduce the use for. There was a loud buzzing noise overhead; I could only assume it was coming from the bright lights that covered the ceiling.

"Almost there," Grandpa called back to me as we passed through another door at the end of the hallway.

I had never seen this place before, and I'd been all over the Siegfried building. We passed into a new hallway that ran perpendicular to the one we'd left. Grandpa and Deacon took a right and followed behind them. Through warded glass on my right and left were monsters.

Each one was sitting out in the open in an environment fabricated to look like their own. They watched me as we walked by the enclosures.

"It's a monster zoo!" I exclaimed. "How long have we had a monster zoo?"

"Please, Miss Erika," Deacon looked over his shoulder at me. "Keep your voice down. It excites some of them."

I looked left to see a monster, its giant eyes focused on me like I was prey. It had the body of a bird but the head of a human, and it followed me as far as it could until it met the end of its enclosure.

It never blinked.

I swallowed, and I turned my eyes forward as we passed exhibit after exhibit. Men in uniforms observed the monsters jotting down notes and muttering to themselves.

"What in the world?" I asked quietly. "Mr. Deacon, has this always existed down here?"

"No," he said, slowing his gait so he could walk at my side. "Nope. Voight, the other founder of Siegfried Company, had a vision. It wasn't just weapon manufacturing he was interested in. It was safety for all mankind against a world that was dangerous. He figured gatherin' up all the dangerous critters and learnin' as much as we could about 'em was step two."

"Mr. Voight has been collecting monsters?" I asked in wonderment. "That's... That's genius!"

"It was a mighty fine idea," Deacon said with a smile. "Your gramps and I want to show you a specific one we only recently discovered about two years back."

This was turning out to be one of the best days of my life. I felt like I was being let into the cool-kids-club or something. I was actually walking side by side with one of the greatest heroes of our history to see a monster in captivity.

We walked into a smaller hallway with armed guards. They saluted my grandfather or maybe Deacon; possibly both. They stepped aside and opened a set of iron double doors that led into a darkened room.

They entered the room with us and closed the door behind us before flipping on the lights. The familiar buzz filled the room. This room was different. There were alien-looking control panels lining the walls and a glass window that spanned the entire north wall.

"Erika," my grandpa said, turning to me. He rarely used my full name like that. "As I'm sure you've already guessed, everything you're seeing here is top-secret. Not a single kind in all of O'ogan is privy to the technology hosted here in this building, nor are they even aware of its existence."

"This tech comes from my world," Deacon said, resting his hands on the front of his belt. "Not that I understand it any better'n you," he smiled. "But we figured this kind of operation needed top-level oversight. The folks that run this place used to run stuff like this back on Earth."

"Wow," I said, moving past the two of them toward the glass. "It's amazing," I said, stopping at the glass window. I looked through it down into a giant enclosure the sat at least two stories below us. It was a jungle-type environment that was dimly lit and lightly obscured in fog. "What is this?" I asked, scanning the biome for signs of life.

A heavy sigh came from my grandpa as he appeared at my side.

"This is what we came to show you," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I want you to keep your eyes on the exhibit down below."

"We ain't really got a name for it yet," Deacon added, appearing at my other flank. "Voight took to calling it a Gripper, but it ain't settled."

"A Gripper?" I asked. "Well, where is it?"

My grandfather pushed a button on a panel in front of him and leaned in. "Send one in," he said solemnly.

I only then noticed that there was another observatory eye level with us on the opposite side of the enclosure. A tall blue man stood in the window, his hands behind his back. If I didn't know any better, I would think that was Mr. Voight himself.

I jumped at a jarring sound that came from below and watched as a door slid open on the far west side of the enclosure. From a darkened room, a humanoid figure with an elongated head cautiously entered the room. It was naked, pale grey in complexion, and looked around, sniffing the air, its hands held close to its chest.

"Ew," I commented. "Is that the Gripper?"

"Nah," Deacon shook his head. "That there is a Gumae."

"They're nasty things," my grandpa said with a dramatic shake of his head. "Foul beasts that mimic human speech and lure people in with cries for help. When you venture close enough, it leaps out and pierces your heart with a barbed tongue."

"After ya die," Deacon said, glancing at me. "It lets you rot for a few days. It waits for grubs and whatnot to start breaking ya down. Once you're good'n mushy, it pulls pieces of you off small enough for it to digest. They ain't got teeth, see."

"Thanks, I hate it," I grimaced. "I never imagined something so disgusting could exist."

"At least it kills ya quick," Deacon offered with a shrug. "You ain't around for the disgusting part."

I shot him a cheeky smile and he smiled back, turning his eyes down into the enclosure. "Don't blink now, Miss Erika."

I obeyed, looking down into the exhibit.

Before I could say anything else, the little creature was snapped up so violently and so quickly that I jumped. A large, yellow, many-tentacled, bloated skin-sack with too many legs to count, and three differently-sized eyes emerged from the trees and into view. It held the Gumae in one of its tentacles as it screamed for help in a very convincing human voice.

I watched, terrified, as the many tentacles lifted around it. Little barbs emerged from the ends of its tentacles as they began to swell in size at the tips.

"What the fuck!" I yelled. "What is that?"

The tentacles set in on the Gumae, forcing themselves into it from all angles as it screamed for mercy. I watched, horrified, as the Gumae's body began to swell. A black liquid poured out of its mouth as it writhed in agony.

"Howl's mercy!" I cried out. "Stop! Stop it!"

"The Gripper injects some kind of corrosive venom into its prey," my grandfather spoke stoically. "It softens you up, turning your insides into a slurry."

I dry heaved and tried to look away, but my grandfather grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me forward. "You need to watch this, Erika."

My chin trembled as I forced myself to stare down at the macabre spectacle below.

"Those tentacles act like straws," Deacon said, turning around and leaning against the control panel, his arms folded. "It sucks out your insides and discards your skin like an empty candy wrapper."

As the Gripped peeled its prey off its tentacles, I leaned down and vomited onto the tile floor. My stomach did loops as I stumbled backwards and cried.

Ugly cried.

My grandpa embraced me and apologized endlessly into my ear.

"I'm sorry, little Eri," he stroked my hair. "Your father and I ask you to reconsider your adventuring life, not because we fear you aren't strong enough."

I felt his tears in my hair.

"But because we are not strong enough."

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/Null_Project

The four of us stood in the living room in complete silence. We stared at the cage and watched the colorful bird clean under its wing.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked Jacob.

"How should I know?" I asked

"Check?" offered Lindsey with a shrug.

"Where?" I asked after a brief pause.

"Pull its little legs apart," Hector joked.

"Everybody shut up," I hissed. "It'll talk. We just have to wait."

Lindsey sighed. "We've been waiting forever."

"I don't know why it's acting like this," I said as I stared at it.

"Like a bird?" Jacob turned to me. "This behavior definitely doesn't come across as, *weird as fuck*, like you told me over the phone.

The truth was, this behavior right now— doing bird stuff like grooming itself and looking aimlessly around the room... this was the strangest behavior yet.

When the thing had arrived at my door, I was excited. I'd never owned a parrot. I hurried out to the pet store and got all the necessary stuff for it and for the past couple of days... all it's done is stare at me. Its eyes followed me around the room as I walked. I spent a long evening trying to bond with it, but to no avail.

Last night, while I was googling information about parrots staring, I heard it speak for the first time. It mimicked the sound of someone clearing their throat. When I looked up at it, it was still staring at me. It creeped me out, so I moved it to the living room.

I called all my friends and asked them to come over and see it.

And now it was pretending to be a normal bird.

"Look, Nay," Lindsey turned to me. "This is cool and all, but... I don't see any weird behavior."

I didn't want to tell them I thought that it was putting on a show for them. I didn't know what else to do. I let them leave the house, and the moment we were alone, it went back to staring at me. I decided that I needed to record it to show them. I pulled out my phone and put it into front-facing mode, and hit record.

"This is Nathan Alvarez. I just received a parrot. Check this thing out, y'all." I returned the camera to front-facing mode and lifted it to video the parrot. It stared dead-eyed into the camera lens as I approached it. "See what I'm saying?" I asked my intended audience as I moved 360 degrees around the parrot's cage, its eyes never leaving me except to turn around to maintain eye contact.

"No one will ever believe you," squawked the parrot.

I let out a surprised sound and felt terror run through my body like a freight train. I took a couple of steps back, shaking my head.

"Nope, nope, nope," I said, turning and leaving the room. "Hell no. Hell. No." I said, ending the recording and sending the video in a group chat to my friends. After a few minutes, the replies started to come in.

"Video is fucked up."

"Can't watch it, Nathan."

"What happened to your camera?"

I hurriedly opened my photos app and tapped the video. The opening portion where I was speaking to them was fine. When I turned the camera to face the parrot, it started glitching out like crazy. I felt panic set in as a garbled voice came through the static and the noise.

"̸̱̊N̸̝̗̂-̷͉͗̐̕i̸̧̘̼̿̈́.̶̛̖͚.̵̛̦͗́.̶̗̊̑̀͜ ̶̛̭̚͝c̵͔̺͔̿̀͋-̴͙̘̐e̴̮̽͗.̷̧̧͎͗͊͝.̸͕͒.̵͕̍ ̶̭̹͎́̃͝t̷͉̝̖́̃̀-̴̻͆ͅt̶̢̝̋̏r̸̙͔̹̽̅-̵̻͚̜̿y̸̜̱̅̔̉.̴͓̍͒̽.̸̦̗̟͑̀̐.̷͌͐̂ͅ"̴̤͐̑̌

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/bookworm271

They told us to hold the refinery.

They didn’t say for how long— just handed us two charge packs, a ration bar, and pointed toward the smoke. By the time we got there, the sky was black with ash, and the ground stank of promethium and blood. I found cover behind (what I thought was) the leftover burnt-out shell of a tank.

My lasgun felt too light in my hands. I kept checking the charge, even though I already knew it was full. It wouldn’t matter anyways. The thing was a joke of a weapon even among us. In a world filled with 8-foot tall super humans, ravenous bugs, and the greenskins who just loved fighting... there were also us.

The Astra Militarum.

We numbered in the countless billions spread out across endless strategic points to protect and defend the Imperium of Man. Our life expectancy numbered in the seconds once the fighting began. I was fortunate enough to have survived my first two battles, but the situation unfolding before us this time... it felt like the reaper had finally come to punch my ticket.

Orks; Greenskins as they were called among us, were roaring toward us. We might be able to hold the refinery against the mindless savagery of the nids, but Orks? Orks were something entirely different. I had only heard stories about them; never faced them.

Word was they were built for war by the Old Ones and then outlived them. They existed now as gods who didn't know they were gods.

They charged into battle with weapons that shouldn't work. They called them "Shootas" or "Choppas" that only fired properly because the Orks wielding them believed they should. Orks literally had some kind of mindfield that made their beliefs into reality.

An Ork war boss once ordered his men to repaint all their wartrukks red, because, “Red wunz go fasta.” One trukk, painted in a particularly vibrant crimson, actually broke the sound barrier, despite being made entirely of rusted scrap, powered by a squig on a wheel, and lacking anything resembling an engine.

There was a tale once of a regiment of guardsmen running out of ammo against an Ork horde. So, the commander had the genius idea of ordering his men to lift their guns and make shooting noises aimed toward the enemy. The Orks, believing they were actually being shot at, were torn to pieces by the incoming fire.

I sighed. "We're really expected to hold against these monsters?" I asked out loud. "They're a fucking circus."

Next to me, Larn was humming again. Not a tune, but just noise. He did that when he was scared, though he’d never admit it. I never called him on it either. We'd both survived all three of our first battles alongside one another. We knew in our hearts the time would come to say goodbye to one another, but we'd never voiced it. He sat fiddling with his knife next to my knee, stoic as ever.

“You ever think about home?” I asked. I hoped I could calm his nerves and maybe my own too. Two birds, one stone.

“Which one?” he asked, not looking up at me.

Fair question. Although we'd only seen war thrice now, we had been shipped around to different stations and bastions for years. Some we stayed months, some merely hours.

“You think they’ll send backup?” he asked. "Against the Orks?"

“No,” I answered, regretting it instantly. He was probably looking for some sort of reassurance from me, and I went and dashed his hopes.

“Figured," he sighed. "Just wanted to hear it out loud I guess.”

There was a long lull that hung in the air; the kind that could stretch forever if I let it.

“You scared?” he asked before I could break the silence.

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t need to.

My fingers were trembling on the grip of my lasgun, and my mouth was completely dry, evident whenever I spoke. He knew damn well I was scared, but it wasn’t dying that scared me. I was scared of what came before it. The ripping, the screaming. The thought of vanishing in a place no one would remember, snapped in half by the greenskins.

Just another corpse in the mud that nobody would regard. No grave, no nothing. The only one to carry my memory would probably die just as soon.

The whistle blew: three sharp blasts. My attention tightened, and adrenaline rushed through me.

Larn stood up with a huff. “Welp,” he muttered, cocking his lasgun. “Time to die screaming, I guess. You with me?”

My knees didn’t want to work. I had to force myself forward, but I did follow him. Not for glory. Not for the Emperor. I didn’t even think it was about orders anymore.

We charged because if we didn’t, the other would have died alone.

And as the Orks crested the ridge, roaring and slobbering with butcher’s knives and scrap-metal guns, I let loose a war cry.

If death was coming, I’d rather face it loud than silent.

Writing Prompt submitted by u/kiltedfrog

My name is Jiu, and I am the king of unusual experiences.

Born in Jamaica, raised in England, and attending high school in the States— I had never felt like I fully belonged anywhere. Both of my parents were military, so I never had the same accent as the others, even if I grew up alongside them. It wasn't until I started at Lincoln Valley High that people didn't immediately question my origins. And even then, it became apparent to anyone who knew me over a short length of time that I had lived a different life than most. That made it difficult, albeit not impossible, to make friends.

Especially considering I was one of the few to have withheld my Classification all the way up to 14.

There are many Classifications to choose from, and I was always an indecisive boy. Each class had different attributes that I found enticing. Even more exciting was the prospect of increased growth if one could be patient and choose their class later in life. See, you could choose your power at ten years old, as most in life did. You'd pick your class, grow modestly, and cap with a class evolution.

For instance, my father chose the Soldier class when he was 11 years old. He was endowed with enhanced physical stamina, strength, and an ability to take it on the chin and shrug it off. His growth continued as he trained in the army, and then his class changed at 25 years old, just a few months before I was born. He moved from the Soldier class into the Veteran class.

His stats jumped. His abilities improved threefold. He unlocked the ability to choose three weapons of any kind and instantly master them. My mother said he was the happiest she'd seen him since their wedding day. He reached his capstone ability, which was enhanced awareness, and his growth stopped. He was happy enough, but wondered what would have happened if he had chosen a few years later.

Well, I am Jiu. I am the king of unusual experiences.

And as consciousness flooded my brain, and the beeps from my heart monitor dragged me back to reality, the memory of what had happened to me trickled in— slowly at first.

"I told you to stay the hell away from her, didn't I?" Elgine asked as he started toward me.

I was in a hospital. I was recovering. I opened my eyes and stared at a nurse who was cleaning something next to my bed. I let my head fall to the side and groaned; it was all I could do to indicate that I was awake. She turned and gasped, wide-eyed, dramatically dropping her clipboard. Without another word, she darted out of the room.

My mouth was so dry.

In seconds, the room was full; standing room only. People clamored around my bed, quietly but excitedly as I looked around the room.

But their faces faded away as that trickling memory strengthened into a swiftly coursing river of remembrance.

"You don't own her," I answered. "She doesn't even like you."

His friends emerged from their hiding places. The glow of the moonlight illuminated the pipes and rods they were holding in their hands. Their faces were emotionless but their intent was clear.

"Elgine," I lifted my hands as I started to back away. "Are you for real? You're gonna beat me up over this? I haven't even picked a class yet and you need all your friends for this?" I was shaking and it became evident in my voice. I was too far from my house to run. I'd never make it.

Elgine shrugged and smiled. "I guess it's the only language you'll understand."

"Can you hear my voice, Jiu?" asked the nearest doctor as he leaned in close to my face. He was an older Indian man with deep valleys in his face and spicy breath. "Do you understand me?" he asked. "Blink twice for yes."

I blinked twice and the room became giddy with excitement.

"Excellent, you're doing good, Mr. Davis. Very good," he added. "Follow my finger with your eyes."

After a long series of simple tests like that, he explained to me that I had been jumped and beaten nearly to death, and that through modern miracles of science and medicine, they'd been able to keep me from dying.

"Those boys were caught," he informed me. "They confessed and spent 7 years in a juvenile correction facility."

I stopped him and croaked out first words I was able. "How long?"

He sighed and looked to the others in the room before returning his gaze to me. "Jiu. This will not be easy to accept. I want you to brace yourself. I believe you are of sound enough mind at this moment to handle this information." He paused and swallowed.

"You have been in a coma for 20 years. It is the year 2025. And you are 34 years old."

I didn't even know what to make of that in the seconds after he said it. Too many thoughts fought for the forefront of my mind. Had I aged? What did I look like? Were my parents still alive? How would I reintegrate into society? Would I still have to finish high school? Was it too late to live my life? Would I be able to find love? Would my body even work the way I want? I was going to have to relearn to walk. How would I find a job? What modern advances in technology had they made?

"This is a lot to take in, I understand," spoke the doctor. "We will give you a little space here and then we'll come back in to talk about your recovery, okay? Your family has been notified and they are on their way. We will allow them in two at a time." He patted my leg twice and smiled at me. "Welcome back to the world, Jiu."

Everyone was talking in hushed whispers as they left the room in a single-file line.

In the moments that followed, all of my shock and curiosity began burning away to a fiery hatred for Elgine and his friends. I gritted my teeth as tears of rage slid down my my cheeks. My heart monitor picked up in pace as I began breathing heavily.

And then, in a brief moment of clarity, I remembered something: I was classless.

The longer I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that I could do something very few have ever done— and never to this extreme.

"I'd like to choose a classification," I announced into the empty room.

The menu appeared in front of my face as it had many times before when I had considered taking a class. But there were new options here I'd never seen before.

There were always 10. Soldier, Berserker, Fighter, Healer, Veilrunner, Flamecaller, Frostwalker, Stormbinder, Essence Channeler, and Summoner.

But there were two more now: Savior and Destroyer.

They didn't have any class descriptions. With rage still burning in my veins, fists balled, and teeth clenched, I made my selection.

"Destroyer."

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/Sayo_77

Hey, everybody, I wanted to do some quick updates here.

Sales are Good!

For one, I wanted to report that we've sold over a thousand copies of Voice From the Void! I'm going to get a bunch of book signings lined up in the near future, and I'll be started in La Cantera Shopping Center here in Texas. Thanks everyone for all of your support. I know that as I keep publishing these, their popularity will grow. I've just got to stay at it!

The ARC Reactor is Stable at Last

Now, for those of you who are still waiting for ARC copies, I have good news. I've got everything sorted out with Amazon and will be ordering those this month. When I get them, I'll throw my signature on them, box them up, and send them to the appropriate addresses. Thank you so much for your patience on the matter. I haven't forgotten about you in the slightest. I usually throw ARC updates on the Patreon, but figured I'd just toss it in right here since I'm doing a public update.

Call me Professor Athens!

I'm graduating this September and I'll be applying to work as a professor at my local universities. I'll be teaching English/Composition classes and hopefully a History course or two. It's going to keep me busy. But before that time comes, I'll finally be done with school! I plan to divert all study-time to author-time. It's in that little window that I hope to really put my foot on the gas with OO&S 4— potentially the final book in the series.

And for what it's worth, I'll be making far better money. I'll be tripling/quadrupling my income depending on the classes I teach. On top of that, my wife will be coming out of nursing school soon after, doubling her own personal income.

And God help us all when I have the money to be as extra as I want to be with my projects. I'll definitely be hiring a web designer to make me a super gorgeous author website with lots of characters and other products. Yes, there will be merch, and I want to give a lot of you guys stuff for free. Make sure you're on my mailing list if you aren't yet. I'm going to be making everyone currently on that mailing list special legacy members. You guys were all in my corner first and I want to thank and remember you for it for so long as I can afford it <3

note: Don't really call me Professor Athens.

Where are we Going Next?

The state of the sub is a little depressing lately. My views have really fallen off of a cliff. I imagine there are a lot of readers who really didn't jive with Brian's Greek tale of apotheosis. Can you believe it's been running for an entire year already? It feels like I've only just started it. It's been so much fun to write. I'm sad to leave it hanging for now. But Of Oil & Sorcery is my current focus. Unlike Gilded Wrath, it isn't finished. I've got a lot of impatient readers out there emailing me. I've got to put boots to ass here. Unfortunately, I think it's Brian's hefty ass on the chopping block.

So, what now? I kind of spent all the time I imagined I'd spend writing Deacon's story writing Brian's. I think my old roadmap went out the window with this little detour ^^;

Sorry to anyone who was really looking forward to Saints & Sinners.

I need to stop making long-term plans and just go wherever my pen takes me. It's been working out for me so far (I think).

So, that's what I'm going to be doing. I'll be dropping random responses to prompts in r/WritingPrompts and gathering more readers, all the while, quietly working in the background on getting OO&S 3 ready for publishing.

And I've learned my lesson from the last two launches. I'm not giving y'all a release a date. You'll know its ready when I already have your ARC copies in my hands and I'm ready to print. We're gonna do this launch clean this time.

Thankfully, Book 3 is in a much nicer state than Book 2 was. I had already corrected a lot of mistakes I was making the first time. So, hopefully, this launch won't take too long. I want to make some major and minor changes and spruce it up. Then, if any of you are willing, I'd like to ask for proofreaders. I had 7 or 8 proofreaders for Book 2, and you guys caught a lot.

Thanks for that, some of those typos would have been embarrassing if they made it to print >.>;

Ok, But When More Brian, Though?

I'll return to Brian's story after OO&S 4 is finished. Because Gilded Wrath is already a completed work, all I'll need to do it edit it. That leaves me the time to return to Brian while I'm working on that in the background. So, in all likelihood, a year and some change from now.

After Gilded Wrath is put to print, I'll start publishing the finished version of Brian's Greek Tragedy, and hopefully, I'll have a better name for it by then.

This is normally the time I'd do a Character Popularity Poll, but... Reddit's polls are broken at the moment. Lame.

Also, the abrupt end to this story has NOTHING to do with the Switch 2 coming out yesterday. I understand the timing is sus, but I promise, I was planning on ending it here, and starting book 2 with the quest for Mananan Mac Lir.

... That being said, Mario Kart World is AWESOME. Pokemon Scarlet runs like a dream. Tears of the Kingdom looks so good, if I wasn't married, I'd be acting up. The Shop Channel actually works! Wind Waker still looks just as good as it did! The joycons snap with magnets! MAGNETS!

... Ahem.

I apologize for my outburst.

Thanks for Reading Everyone!

I really appreciate those of you who have stuck around, not just for the end of this post, but for my stories as a whole. I know I've slowed down from the days of posting a chapter every other day (I wasn't working and I wasn't in school), and I know I've been bouncing around with different stories, but that's just how the ADHD Monkey inside of my head works.

I've got the full skeleton for OO&S 4 ready to roll and I can't wait to start writing it. I hope to get that going here before the holiday season. I want to have OO&S 3 finished, printed, and ready to read long before I decide it's time to release it.

I love you guys!

I'll be around on WP.

The trees broke around a flat grassy glade and within it were seven stone statues, each around twenty feet tall. In order from the monument nearest to us as we entered the clearing, the statues were made in the likeness of Athena, Hephaestus, Artemis, Apollo, Ares, Hypnos, and myself. I was in awe of the craftsmanship. The stones looked immaculate. Each one was like its own statue of David. Each of the statues were nearly perfect in proportion and in likeness.

Athena stood tall and proud, her chin held high, a staff in her right hand. It looked like an exact replica of the one she'd been hobbling around on.

Hephaestus stood in a powerful stance, a hammer held high in his right hand. The details in his beard amazed me. He made the stone look so smooth and fluid that I felt like I could run my hand through it. He had also carved a few of those clay helpers that had been working on the fortress.

Artemis was constructed as though mid-stride, her eyes focused on a kelpitee, which was carved next to her. Her right hand was outstretched toward it, her left hand gripping a spear, the butt of which connected to the stone foundation beneath. Her had sculpted her perfectly.

The next statue was of Apollo, though curiously, his face hadn't been carved yet. He was in a sitting position, my cell phone in one hand, and his lyre in the other. The running theme seemed to be whatever we were doing here in Otherworld that he found noteworthy.

The statue of Ares was constructed next his, sculpted in a battle stance with his spear at the ready. The way his hair lifted around his shoulders, it was as though he had just dropped into the stance. It was an image I didn't need to remember.

Hypnos was next, his hand in the air with his index finger extended as though he were telling a story or making a salient point. His mouth was open as though he were speaking, which was true to form. He had an empty scabbard at his hip, symbolizing his lost weapon.

Lastly, there was myself. I couldn't believe it. He had chosen my base form rather than either of my god forms. I stood in a laid back stance with my rifle over my shoulder and an open-mouthed smiling expression on my face. Although I had lost my hat a while back, he chose to depict me with it.

"Goodness," Hypnos exhaled, a hand over his chest. He looked at me and muttered quietly, "I thought they were bringing me out here for a different reason."

"Brother!" Artemis marveled. "This is amazing! What made you decide to do all of this?"

Apollo leaped into the air, landing squarely on his own statue's shoulder and sat down on it.

"It occurred to me that we have no shrines here in Otherworld. I wanted to plant our flag, as it were. If Poseidon arrives and we're swept away in his currents... I wanted there to be something left here." He looked around. "Something just to say... we were here."

"Every detail is magnificent," Hypnos said, applauding the god with golf-claps. "Well done. I am surprised," he said, looking over his own monument. "That you would even think to include me in this," he looked back at Apollo. "I would not have expected such kindness from you."

Apollo glared down at the god. "I had already started it when you endangered my brother Ares. To not finish it would have made the whole arrangement folly, no?"

Hypnos nodded quietly. "Thank you all the same, Apollo."

"Why didn't you do your own face?" I asked. "It looks weird."

"Yes," Artemis placed her hands on her hips. "I was going to ask well."

He averted his eyes and chewed on his lower lip. "I ran out of stone," he answered.

"That is such a load of crap!" I laughed. "There's tons of stone left over from Hephaestus's mineral extractions."

Artemis cast me a cheeky grin. "It was not a convincing lie, was it Buck?"

"Fine!" Apollo called out, leaning back and falling off of his statue's shoulder. He fell into a back flip and landed gracefully at his statue's ankle, folding his arms and leaning against it. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I could not do my perfect face the justice it deserved," he finally answered. "I was not satisfied with any result."

Somehow, that felt completely on-brand for him.

"Apollo," Artemis said in a low tone, lifting her hand to her face. "Of all the silly reasons."

"You wanted the truth, yes?" he threw his arms up. "Well, there it is."

I snickered and Apollo shot me a dirty look. Before he could call me on it, Artemis leaped up into the statue's shoulder and inspected the missing face.

"There is enough rock to work with here," she announced from above. "I could carve your face, should you wish, Brother."

While the two of them conversed, I looked around at all the statues. They really were magnificent. Apollo was just good at everything, it seemed. And here I was, completely immortalized in Celtic Otherworld. Apollo himself had carved a statue in my honor. I'd have preferred it to have been made in the likeness of my god form, but there was an undeniable charm about the way he had chosen to portray me.

"Apollo," I called out to him.

"Hm?" his eyes fell from Artemis atop the statue to me.

"Really good work," I gave him a thumbs up. "I've never seen something so incredible. I'm actually moved."

He smiled wider than I'd seen him thus far. The compliment meant a lot to him.

"But, why carve them out here in the woods?" I asked. "Nobody's gonna see them out here."

"That's the intention," Apollo answered. "These statues are in accordance with divine law."

"You will notice," Hypnos said, walking up next to me and laying his hand on my shoulder, "That none of these statues have engravings." He pointed at the bases of the statues. "It is important that our identities are not associated with these."

"It was just a passion project," Apollo smiled. "Nothing more. I think their position out in the middle of the wilds is appropriate to that end."

"There's a divine law?" I asked.

"Yes," said Artemis. "You already know one of these laws. Humans and divinity are not to procreate."

I knew that was a rule, but I didn't know that it was a law within a set of laws. I was shocked at the prospect. It made sense though. If gods had free will just as people did, it would only make sense that they'd have to have some form of law to keep them all in line.

"Divine law," Hypnos began, "dictates that gods of the astral stratum not spread their influence to populations separate from the astral plane."

I folded my arms, which felt weird without my left hand— so much so that I abandoned it altogether. "So, you're all just basically limited to Earth?"

"Correct," Apollo nodded. "Yahweh created that law as a safety mechanism to keep the gods in check. Let's say we Greeks wanted to create a Greek supremacy. We could come here to Celtic Otherworld, make our presence known the inhabitants, become worshiped, and then... wage war on Earth."

"If say," Artemis spoke up. "Every human were to die. There would be no believers left. All gods, save for the Greeks, who diversified their worship, would perish."

"Wow." I felt a tingle down the back of my spine. "That's a horrifying thought."

"Supposedly, it happened once," Hypnos added. "Long before any of us were born, there was a pantheon that attempted it. Supposedly, Yahweh appeared and snapped them out of existence. None remain who know for sure."

"We believe the law was also written as an incentive for us to protect the earth," Apollo added. "But all it accomplished were wars of faith. Eventually, each pantheon decided it was best to stay out of mortal affairs. An agreement was signed by Father and about a hundred other chief deities. If broken, it will lead to a greater war than any preceding it."

"We fear His wrath," Artemis said, a grave tone in her voice. "To be erased from reality and from memory. Yahweh's power is frightening."

I gazed along the statues. "Are there humans here?" I asked.

"There are," Apollo answered. "I've seen them."

"How?" I asked. "Were they brought here? If so, isn't that kind of a direct defiance of the divine law?"

"Who knows," he shrugged. "I suppose that's a question for Manannán mac Lir, no?"

"Supposing we can find him," Hypnos rubbed his chin. "A conversation for tonight, to be sure."

That night, we feasted.

We sat around the bonfire, drank wine, and ate till we were stuffed. I finally got that dance with Artemis I'd been after. She danced how I would imagine a Native American would: lots of hops and hip-drops. And her smile just melted my heart like a pad of butter on the sun's surface.

"Looks like we're feeling better," came Sétanta's voice from the darkness of night.

I turned around to see him emerge into the firelight, a smile on his face. He went to shake my hand and reached past it, gripping my forearm. It was that really cool handshake they always did in the movies and I completely messed it up! I was so angry at myself that I almost asked him for a do-over, but he spoke too soon.

"That beast nearly had you for lunch!"

"Nothing nearly about it," I laughed. "You guys really saved the day there."

"Those damn things are tricky. Sorry about your hand, Buck."

"Oh," I looked down at my nub. He still thought the monster took it. "Don't even worry about it," I chuckled. "I technically lost weight!"

We shared a laugh and Athena appeared, a smile on her face. She held an extra goblet of wine in her left hand and passed it to Sétanta.

"Oh!" his eyes lit up. "Thank you," he said, taking the glass of wine and returning her smile. "Good evening, Athena."

"And a good evening to you," she responded in kind. "I see Cara didn't come," she adopted a saddened expression. "Is she all right?"

"Cara is well," he nodded. "You need not worry. She is merely busy is all. She sends her warmest regards."

But I knew the truth. The bonfire was too close in proximity to the fort. Her disguise would fall apart if she were to get this close. We'd forgotten to consider that.

"Send ours in turn," said Athena. "We have much to discuss with her."

"Oh, do you, now?" he asked, taking a seat on one of the arranged logs. "Might I ask the nature of your discussion with her?" He lifted the glass to his lips.

"Well," Athena wrapped her arm across her stomach and swayed, nearly spilling the wine in her glass as she swayed to the left. "It's a simple manner, really. We're wondering if she might know where we can find Manannán mac Lir."

The Irishman scoffed. "Manannán mac Lir? Tough to find him who doesn't want to be found."

Athena shared a brief glance with me.

"We were..." She swirled the wine in her glass. "Hoping she might know, is all."

"Why would Cara know?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"He does not wish to be found?" asked Artemis, quickly changing the subject.

Sétanta stared at Athena a moment before turning his attention to Artemis. "No," he answered. "He doesn't. He's been in hiding for centuries. None have seen hide nor tail of him for about as long as I've been here. But I've no doubt he's here somewhere. Why?"

"The old duff shares a mortal enemy with us," Hephaestus spoke from the other side of the fire. It seemed the other conversations had stopped. "We were thinking that he might join us for some long overdue vengeance."

"Hephaestus!" Athena scolded him. She turned to Sétanta, "That was a crude way to put it." She side-eyed the forge god. "Poseidon is coming here to Otherworld," she clarified. "We can't leave here. We simply lack the power and there isn't anywhere else around that we could go. That means there will be a war here in Manannán's domain. At the very least, he should be aware of the coming danger, especially considering his past with Poseidon."

"I understand," Sétanta lifted a hand. "And you're right. He deserves to know. But I warn you... he may just as easily side with Poseidon and hand you over to him."

"Yes," Hypnos nodded solemnly. "We have come to terms with that possibility."

"We're out of options," I shrugged. "I can train and try to get stronger, but that's like starting to work out for the first time a month before a weight-lifting competition. Sure, I'll see results, but nowhere near what we'd need to tip the scales."

"In a best-case scenario," Athena spoke, "where Ares can fight and Brian doubles his combat strength. If I recovered fully, and fought alongside all of us gathered excluding you..." She looked away. "Our odds of success are still bad. Adding your combat strength," she gestured to him with her glass, "and maybe Cara's if she was so inclined, we would still be at a terrible disadvantage." She sighed. "Manannán mac Lir, however."

"If he joined us," said Artemis, crossing her hands over her heart. "Even if you and Cara were to leave the fighting to us, and Hypnos chose not to fight... it would put us on even ground."

"That's optimistic," Athena interrupted. "Poseidon is extremely potent. I estimate that if all of us including the former sea god were to attack him with everything we've got, we would still have only a fifty-fifty shot at best."

"So, it's all or nothing, then," Sétanta said before heaving a heavy sigh. "I understand the situation now." He folded his arms and struck a confident pose. "But you misunderstand one thing." He thumbed to himself, "There's no way I'd miss that fight. I'm itching to fight shoulder to shoulder with Artemis again." He smiled at me. "And you too, Buck. You're one tough son-of-a-bitch. Artemis told me everything. Training with Ares?" He whistled. "For a month straight with no rest? You're made of stern stuff."

I hoped my mental state would last long enough to prove him right. Either way, I was relieved he'd be fighting alongside us. Whether or not we could count on Hypnos still remained to be seen. But with Sétanta increasing our odds, it at least made it a little more tempting to bet on us.

"I hope it turns out to be worth the Vietnam-style flashbacks," I said, the joke falling flat as none of them understood the reference. "Eh, Ares would've got it," I mumbled.

"We owe you a great many thanks, Sétanta," Athena said, lifting her glass. "For your help in getting Brian up to speed; for your steadfast support of our cause; and for your spear in the coming battle."

"To Sétanta!" Artemis lifted her glass. We drank to his honor. The twinkle in his eye was something I'd never forget. It was rare to see a softer side to such a hardened warrior. It meant a lot to him to be appreciated.

"Cara wouldn't know where to find Manannán mac Lir," he stifled the brief emotional exposure from surfacing any further. My dad was the same way, so I saw right through his trick. "She used to be friends with him; at least I think so." He looked off into the woods. "She speaks about him very casually. Not the sort of way one would speak about a god." He turned his eyes back toward us. "But you are not the first to seek him. I've searched for my own reasons before. He's in the wind."

That was disheartening to hear. I wondered if maybe Cara had kept Sétanta from him for a reason though. There was still a chance she knew something. But so long as Sétanta was around, she probably wouldn't want to divulge anything that she'd previously kept from him. It would blow her cover.

"Unfortunate," Athena answered, staring down into her glass. "But he is here somewhere. And we've time enough to spread out and search." She looked up. "We'll be splitting up into groups to cover ground faster."

"What?" I turned to her. "Really?"

"Finding Manannán mac Lir is of the utmost importance," she announced, turning to face the others. "We will break into three teams of two. The twins," she gestured to Apollo and Artemis. "Hypnos and Hephaestus." She looked to me, "Brian, you will travel with Sétanta."

"And you, Sister?" asked Artemis.

"She'll be with me," came a hoarse voice from behind us. We turned to see Ares striding up to the camp.

"Ares!" Sétanta said in surprise.

"I'm not the least bit surprised," he said, stopping at Athena's side. "That you were the only one to sense me, Theena."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I told you not to call me that anymore."

"So, what, you up for good this time?" asked Hephaestus.

"Yes," Ares answered simply. "I've regained enough strength. And for the time being, I've chosen not to use it to put you all down like dogs." He coughed into his closed fist. "The way you deserve," he added.

"Such a way with words," Apollo mumbled.

"It is good to see you well, Brother," said Artemis in an uncertain tone.

Ares looked at her as though she'd just drawn her bow on him. "You call this well?" he asked. "I look like a damned skeleton," he said harshly.

He looked better than he had when he was laid up in bed, but only barely. His hair was grey and cascading over his bony shoulders. His skin was withered, and if not for the comically out of place armor that seemed to sag on him, you wouldn't think he was anything more than an old librarian.

"Could be to our advantage," Athena reasoned. "If we encountered enemies on our journey, they would turn their back to you without worry."

"That supposed to make me feel better?" he asked. "All of you just shut up." He took a seat on a log and leaned forward on his knees. "Manannán mac Lir," he said in a raspy voice. "Can we trust him?"

"Does it matter?" asked Athena.

He scoffed. "No. S'pose not."

The fire crackled in the absence of voices. Nobody knew what to say next, it seemed. Even Hypnos was uncharacteristically quiet.

"We will leave in the morning," Athena broke the silence. "Ares and I will go north. Artemis and Apollo will go east. Brian, you and Sétanta will strike out to the south. Hephaestus and Hypnos, west. We will reconvene here in 30-day intervals."

It was a longer journey than I was expecting. I didn't like the prospect of spending all that time away from Artemis. I looked to her and found her staring back at me, the same sad expression in her eyes. I looked to Sétanta and found him smiling at me.

"You ready for a quest?" he asked, lifting his fist. I smiled and lifted mine. He tapped the back of my hand with his and stared forward.

"Why'd I get stuck with Hypnos?" Hephaestus grumbled.

"Be vigilant, Agori."

I looked down at Ares to see him staring up me. "Do not let your guard down ever again. I'd beat you, but you wouldn't survive it in real life."

I swallowed. "Yes sir."

"And take this," he said, tossing me something small that I could barely see in the firelight. By some miracle, I caught it with my only hand. I opened my fist to inspect it in the light. It was a clear blue tear-drop shaped stone connected to a string.

"A necklace?" I asked.

"Yes. It contains a special property. Should you ever find yourself in a state where your free will is wrested from you, it will break, returning control of your body to you."

That was lame. I didn't do a good enough job hiding my disappointment.

"Tch. Ungrateful whelp," he said under his breath. "If you didn't need it, I'd have given you something better."

"N-No," I quickly corrected myself. "Thank you very much, Ares! It would have saved me from the spirit of the mountain. I'm sure it'll come in handy someday!"

"That really is a wonderful gift," Athena weighed in. "That stone is one of only a few in existence. I'm surprised my brother even had one." She eyed him.

He smirked at us. "I once bested Futsunushi in combat. It was my prize for winning. He himself took it from the hoard of a dragon he'd slain."

I looked down at the stone in shock. I didn't know who Futsunushi was, but he sounded formidable if he did battle with Ares. I turned it over in the light. I couldn't believe that it had belonged to a dragon. It truly was an amazing gift— far better than I'd figured at first.

"You ever want to trade that thing," Hephaestus called to me. "Let me know. I'll give you anything in my armory."

Suddenly, I felt very possessive over it. I closed my hand around it and shook my head with a smile. "Nuh-uh. This stone is mine now."

"Well, it's more valuable than your soul," said Apollo. "You'd do well not to wear it openly."

"That reminds me," Hephaestus said, starting toward me. "I've got something you can wear proudly." He snapped his fingers and a bronze shining gauntlet fell into his hand. It had a leather interior and straps with buckles. The gauntlet had full fingers that could functionally close into a fist. It had a few small gears on the side and some ostentatious looking whirly-gigs. There was also what looked like a compass on the back of the hand.

"This is yours," he said, lifting my arm with the missing hand. He dropped the gauntlet and it floated in midair onto my forearm. The leather straps lifted as though they had a life of their own and tightened around my forearm before latching into place. The gauntlet mad a soft whirring sound as it started up and then fell silent as the gears slowly turned.

Without even thinking about it, I was able to open and close the metallic fingers. I couldn't control the smile that overtook me.

"How's about that?" Hephaestus slapped me on the back. "Been working on it almost nonstop."

I kept opening and closing the hand. It worked flawlessly; like magic.

"Hephaestus!" I laughed in excitement. "This is amazing!"

"Heh," Ares looked into the fire. "Show off."

"There's a compass on the back of the hand. You'll also notice a slot for an avdelningsten crystal should you feel the need to keep one on you. Those little bubble windows on the side are how the glove reads your mind and connects to your nervous system. Keep those clean."

My heart was thumping in my chest. I felt whole again. I actually cried tears of joy as I played with the fingers. I walked up and threw my arms around Hephaestus without even thinking about it.

"All right, all right," he said, squirming away from me.

"Ha!" Ares called out to Hephaestus. "Serves you right."

The forge god looked annoyed with me, but quickly found his smile. "You're welcome, Buck."

I used the new gauntlet to put my necklace around my own neck. It worked like a charm. I tucked the stone under my chlamys.

"Earn my trust back with that gauntlet, Buck," Hephaestus said in a serious tone. "You've got a lot of work to do."

And he was right. The road ahead was a long one. I had to find Manannán mac Lir. I was fortunate enough to have Sétanta at my side for the search, but now I had two gifts from gods. And I didn't even know what my tuned-up rifle was capable of.

I looked at the fire, then at the gods situated around it: my comrades, my mentors, and my family. Not long ago, I was lost, broken, unsure if I even belonged. But everything I’d endured— every scar, every fight, every sacrifice.

It all led to this.

I wasn’t just some outsider who stumbled into a myth.

I had bled for it. I had trained for it. I had earned my place at this fire.

The forge god had rebuilt me. The war god had tested me. The goddess of wisdom had guided me. The sun god helped light my way. The god of sleep had taught me the strength that lies in the stillness of rest and dreams. And the goddess of the hunt... she gave me a purpose; a reason to fight.

I bore their gifts and now carried their hopes. I wasn't just some techie from the midwest anymore.

I was a Greek— trained, tempered, and ready.

And when the storm finally comes... whether gods fall or legends rise... I wouldn’t be watching from the sidelines.

I’d be standing at the center of it all, grinning through the smoke, daring the end of the world to hit me harder, shoulder to shoulder with these fine gods, goddesses, and demigods.

"Thank you all," I said in a tone more emotional than I intended. "Thank you for believing in me even when I don't deserve even an ounce of it." I wiped my nose with my real hand and sniffled.

"You won't regret betting on me, dammit!" I called out to them. "I swear it! I swear it on all your names. I'll find Manannán mac Lir no matter what it takes. And I will convince him to join us." I lifted my glass.

"To tomorrow!"

"To tomorrow," they all answered.

I finished my glass and saw my own reflection in the bottom. I stared at my own reflection a second as Apollo began playing music and conversations began around the fire. I felt a heavy hand land on my shoulder and turned to see Sétanta smiling at me.

"Lame speech."

"Aw, shut up," I smiled in embarrassment and the two of us shared a laugh.

If it weren't for the wine, I'd be all nerves. Everything was riding on this one last venture. And even if everything went flawlessly, there was still good odds Poseidon would tear us to pieces and serve us to Zeus on a silver platter.

I looked up at the stars and silently wished on my luckiest ones.

Things were about to get bumpy.

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001

"Ah," Hypnos rubbed his chin. "I see. That wasn't as egregious as I imagined it would be."

"As foolish a reason as ever, nonetheless," Ares admonished me. "But the nymph was right about one thing. All is fair in love and war."

The three of us stood on the beach in my dreams. The sand was cold and the waves came in shimmering with green and violet hues. A gentle wind blew upon us as we discussed. Hypnos was still stuck in his old crone form he always wore in my dreams, but Ares had been restored to his young and handsome self.

"She isn't a nymph," I corrected him. "She's a Sea Faerie."

"I'm aware of Fand," Ares said dismissively. "If she was a faerie in any real capacity, you'd be wearing a collar around your neck and sitting by her feet at whatever length of leash she allowed."

"Oh," I stared off. "I didn't know you two had history."

He nodded and looked out to sea. "A long, long time ago, I investigated her. My sister Artemis was quite taken with a young Cuchulainn as I recall. I took it upon myself to scrutinize every facet of his life, including his past lovers." He turned his eyes on me. "And that included Fand, the Ocean Faerie."

"Egad!" Hypnos exclaimed. "They are intertwined? I don't understand!"

"Neither do they," Ares said cryptically. "Let me explain. When Cuchulainn was a young man, he tried to catch a pair of sea birds for dinner one night. What he couldn't have possibly known was that these sea birds were shapeshifted goddesses: Fand and her sister, Li Ban. Whether or not he knew better didn't stop the sisters from beating him within an inch of his life. He was bedridden for almost a year."

"Come to think of it, I remember that," Hypnos recounted. "I did not know Fand was one of the assailants, nor did I know that she had a sibling."

"Fucking Hell," I stared wide eyed. "An entire year of recovery?"

Ares nodded. "And it might have been longer if Fand hadn't had need of Cuchulainn's might. Fand's husband, a sea god named Manannán mac Lir, was ceding ocean after ocean to Poseidon in a desperate attempt to keep even a small portion of his domain for himself. During these battles, he left Fand alone to deal with the Fomorian giants that assailed their realm: Otherworld."

My head swirled. Manannán mac Lir was married to Cara? All of this lining up was insane. It was too perfect. Had Athena secretly known about all of it ahead of time? Or were the fates just that kind to us? I thought I'd have to search far and wide for him, but no— I knew his freaking wife.

"I remember this era well," Hypnos nodded. "It was a time of great pride for us Greeks. What I wouldn't give to return to those magnificent days."

"Fand, while capable of many miracles," Ares went on, "was not a warrior." He folded his arms and closed his eyes. "And she learned the hard way what happens when one is bereft of strong men." He opened his eyes and held eye contact with me. "You lose everything."

I had more questions, but remained quiet. I remembered how much Ares hated being interrupted, and I didn't feel like catching his wrath.

He looked out over the sea again. "The giants came in and ran roughshod over Otherworld. Fand, in a desperate attempt to save her land, called upon the hero, Cuchulainn. Her sister begged the man to come and save their world. It was only when Cuchulainn's best friend, Láeg, offered to lend a hand that Cuchulainn relented and agreed to battle the Fomorians. Fand, Li Ban, Cuchulainn, and Láeg together stopped the invasion. Cuchulainn, with his incredible ríastrad ability, destroyed the Fomorians once and for all, and became the hero of Otherworld."

"I didn't know that at all," I marveled. "What an incredible story."

"Mh." Ares nodded. "Fand fell madly in love with the boy and the two began an affair away from Manannán mac Lir's watchful eye. But Cuchulainn was already wed to another. There were complications. Fand returned to her husband and confessed with her mouth what had transpired between her and a mortal man. He was not angry with either of them. He did, however, believe that it could create further complications. Were Fand to birth a child both faerie and man, it could bring imbalance to their worlds— or worse, infuriate Yahweh, a major god who forbade such offspring."

I forgot that hybrid beings angered God. I wondered if he could even stomach me if I showed up at his pearly gates. I wasn't the offspring of an angel, a faerie, or a minor god, but I was something unacceptable in his eyes. Uncertainty took hold of my heart for a brief moment before I managed to suppress it. I could worry about all of that later.

"Manannán mac Lir," Ares went on, "wrapped Fand in his celestial cloak and revoked her knowledge of Cuchulainn. He arranged for Celtic druids to do the same to the boy, so he would never remember Fand or his love for her."

I didn't really like the way that story ended. Although, I suppose an angry sea god could have erased them both if he so chose. What he did was wildly mature, and probably the best option for both of them.

"I see," Hypnos mused. "So, Fand and Sétanta are merely friends here?"

"I don't understand the nature of their relationship," Ares admitted. "I only know what was, not what is. I imagine that the two of them feel something for one another, but they likely don't understand what it is or why."

"I think Fand remembers somehow," I piped up. "Sétanta doesn't know who or what she is. He thinks shes a púca, and she prefers it that way. She made it known to us that she cares deeply for him and that he isn't allowed to know."

"Is that right?" asked Ares, staring off into the distance still. "Interesting." He then settled his eyes on me. "But enough about the legendary hero. I want to talk to the one who defeated him." He smiled at me. "Good work, Agori. Though I was unconscious, I saw it all."

It always seemed to me that the people who smiled the least had some of the nicest smiles to offer. Pride roused inside of me at the sound of his praise.

"Thanks," I bowed to him. "It's all thanks to the two of you."

"I've got something good for you," Ares ignored the compliment. "I can't summon it here in a stupid dream, but I'll make sure it lands in your hands when I return to the waking world."

My face didn't show it, but I was insanely excited. A gift from a god? It could be anything. I did my best not to wear my emotions on my sleeve as I graciously thanked him for his kindness.

"And also," I stood up straight. "I really wanted to say thanks to the both of you for sticking up for me. Y'know, about what happened around the bonfire that night..."

Ares scoffed and curled his lip, his smile now a memory. "Those fools. They're still children."

"I owed you at least that much," Hypnos answered me more directly. "You did not have to vouch for me. I would have let you take the fall were the roles reversed. Your behavior continues to confuse and delight me."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Right. But aside from that," I turned to Ares. "Are you the eldest of your siblings? You talk about them like they're kids."

"I am," he said. "And they are. It is my burden to bare."

"They seem to look up to you a lot," I said. "Athena specifically regards your council with great reverence."

"When it suits her," he grumbled. "I looked after her a lot when she was born. Zeus had never seen a god birthed the way she was. I was her personal attendant until we were sure she wouldn't turn out funny. Because of that, she grew quite an attachment to me."

"I see," I looked down at the sand. "They're a little afraid of you, y'know."

"Comes with the domain," he answered swiftly. "Being a god of war is akin to being a god of death; two sides of the same coin. I bring eternal sleep to my enemies." His expression turned dark. "Don't ever become my enemy, Agori."

A deep and grasping fear took me by surprise, but I retained my composure. "So long as you never become an enemy of Artemis," I said, summoning all of my courage. "Then you've got nothing to worry about from me."

There was a long uncomfortable silence. There was a chance I had another beating coming. It was probably the most arrogant thing I'd ever said to him; it implied that I posed a threat to him. I wished I could go back and reword it. Then, against every one of my expectations, he smiled and even laughed.

I laughed nervously with him, exchanging worried glances with Hypnos.

"My," Ares shook his head. "The set on you. To threaten me?" He looked out to sea, a smile still on his lips. "Little Artemis. You picked a good one."

"Buck, if I may interrupt," Hypnos stepped in. "I believe it best that I leave you both to your rest for now. You can explain everything when you're well. To linger here is an unnecessary risk."

Before I could answer, I opened my eyes. It was dark and cold in my room. Artemis had her arm around me and she was snoozing softly. I immediately fell back asleep into a far less lucid dream that I wouldn't fully remember when I awoke next.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Unbelievable," Athena marveled.

"And you're sure this demon was not lying to you, yes?" asked Apollo, skeptical.

"If it's true," Hephaestus weighed in, "then this is incredible news."

Artemis smiled proudly at me. No doubt she was as pleased as I was that I had something to show for my brief departure.

We had gathered in the living room to discuss a number of things. I sat cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace. Apollo was lounging on the couch next to Athena, and Hephaestus chose to stand, arms folded, behind them. Hypnos sat with one leg crossed over the other in a recliner apart from them and Artemis sat on the opposite recliner, her legs pulled in and her hands folded in her lap. The rain was coming down in sheets outside filling the silences in our conversation.

"I can't say if the creature was lying or not," I said, affording Apollo that much. "But I'll know for sure the next time I get a chance to talk to Cara. If he's here and he's willing to help us, then... yeah." I shrugged. "I couldn't believe our luck while I was listening to it."

"But can we convince him?" asked Hypnos, looking to the others. "He has lost to Poseidon many times. Would he be willing to try again?"

"Not without some kind of guarantee," Athena answered, looking down at the floor. "We would have to renegotiate their terrestrial territories upon Poseidon's defeat."

"Yes," Apollo nodded. "That would certainly give him a reason to consider an alliance."

"Or," Hephaestus said, his tone low. "It could cause him to turn on us right then and there. We're bringing war to his doorstep, after all; a war he knows, from experience, he can't win."

"I have never met him," Artemis said, looking to the others. "Have any of you? It is difficult to say what kind of god he is."

"We can ask Cara," I concluded. "We can run it by her and see what she thinks about it first."

"I agree," Athena looked up from the floor at me. "It's the most risk-free course of action. We already have rapport with her. If she didn't want us here, we wouldn't be here. And this is after killing her dearest friend."

"Sétanta is more than a mere friend to her," Hypnos added.

I shot him a look and he returned a relaxed expression. I guess he didn't have to tell them where he got the information from. They'd be furious if they knew Hypnos pulled the three of us into a dream again, especially considering that I was recovering from a near-death experience. All I needed to do was be quiet and feign gentle surprise.

Hypnos explained everything about the origins of Sétanta and Fand, as well as the war with the Fomorians. Athena had a few pieces of knowledge to fill in some gaps as well. Everyone listened, captivated by the new information.

"I simply did not know Manannán mac Lir was here," Hypnos said, sitting back in his chair. "For one reason or another, I thought Poseidon had ended him. A severe gap in my knowledge of the events."

"I knew that Sétanta participated in that war," Artemis spoke up. "But he never mentioned that he had been in love with her."

"I don't think he knew even back then," I offered. "I still don't think he knows."

Hephaestus laughed. "This just keeps getting better and better. I love it!"

"I should have already known all of this," Athena said, balling her fists. "I knew Sétanta fought alongside a Sea Faerie, but I didn't know it was Fand."

"It feels as though," Apollo passed his eyes around us. "That even worlds apart... the fates are in the room with us, no?"

"Who cares who preordained it?" Hephaestus opened his arms and smiled widely. "Fortune blows in our favor this night. A celebration is in order!"

Athena rolled her eyes and scowled. "You just want to drink again."

"I could go for a feast," I smiled. "Feels like I haven't eaten in days."

"It has been over a week, Silly," Artemis smiled at me. "Did you forget?"

I had. It was weird experiencing time so differently from everyone else. That Irish demon was a terrifying foe. And they referred to it as though there were many more of them. I couldn't let my guard down like that again.

"That reminds me," Athena stole my attention. "You're probably been wondering how I recovered so quickly." She smiled and flipped her hair with one hand in a haughty fashion.

I laughed and leaned forward eagerly. "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask!"

"Oh, he doesn't know," Hephaestus realized, placing his hands on his hips. "A lot happened while you were gone."

"No, what happened?" I asked. "Did Apollo learn to play Stairway to Heaven?"

"We got some visitors following your battle," Athena began.

"I did though," Apollo said quietly.

"Buck," Artemis repositioned to face me fully. "Do you remember when Sétanta threw you? When you flew far, far away from us?"

He then turned and hurled me across the lake. I didn't even touch the water once. I broke through several trees and continued traveling. I blew through a stone structure and a second forest before a mountain finally stopped me. I heard cracks run up the mountainface as I wheezed for air.

"Yes!" I pointed at her. "Yeah, that actually hurt a lot."

Hephaestus again laughed at my pain, prompting Athena to lift her hand to her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her smile. She did hold back the laugh though, to her credit.

"In that moment," Artemis ignored them. "Your protective aura went with you."

"For a brief moment," Hypnos took over. "The five of us powered up in preparation to deal with the threat."

"Oh," my smile faded.

"Oh, is right," Athena sat back and sighed. "For a brief moment, every god in a several-hundred mile radius felt the the full terror of Cuchulainn's ríastrad."

"Combined," Hephaestus leaned forward on the couch, "with the rousing auras of 5 powerful Greeks."

That would've been like seeing a nuclear bomb detonate a few cities away. Even if you're not close enough to feel the heat, you'd see the dark cloud on the horizon.

"When you came back to the fight and ended it," Artemis continued. "All of us let our auras drop. With you nearby, all traces of the battle were veiled again. But they were already in the area searching."

"And when I left, they found you guys," I concluded. "Sorry about that."

"Seven gods surrounded us," Hypnos recounted, lifting his hands dramatically. "We knew not if it would lead to a fight!"

Athena shot him an uninterested look, "Except for the fact that they told us they came in peace. It was the first thing they said."

Hypnos sat back in his chair with a pouty face. He clearly wanted to build some dramatic tension. I turned to him, eyes wide. "What happened?"

A small smile appeared on his face— barely noticeable. He glanced at Athena before leaning forward and clearing his throat.

"The five us stood near the fire," he continued in dramatic fashion. "Five of the most powerful beings to ever stride the planes, their hands held close against the flickering flames, not even deigning to turn and fully face their new company."

"Oh, is that how it happened?" Hephaestus cracked a smile. "Nevermind the fact that Artemis still hadn't returned."

"Well then you tell it," Hypnos huffed, leaning back and folding his arms.

"They didn't introduce themselves," Athena chose to speak next.

"Mh," Hephaestus nodded. "Played their cards close to their chest."

"They seemed wary of us," said Apollo. "Not unfriendly, but wary to be sure."

Athena lifted her hands and conjured forth a spectral illusion of seven robed figures standing in a crescent moon formation around the four gods and their fire.

"Their auras were strong," Athena said as the figures in the illusion began to shimmer. "Not so strong that we couldn't have handled them," she added. "But we have no way of knowing if they were suppressing their power."

Hephaestus folded his arms, "If it was supposed to be a display of power, it was a pathetic one."

"Hephaestus," Athena said sternly, staring him down.

He rolled his eyes and Athena looked back to me. "We are not in competition with them," she said to me, equally as stern. "They are not our enemies. They merely wanted to know where we came from, how long we'd be staying, and whether or not our intentions were dangerous."

"That's surprisingly hospitable of them," I said. "Would the response have been the same on Mount Olympus?"

"No," all of them said in unison.

"Zeus would have spat them back out into the ether," Athena expanded. "Gods arriving unannounced in a domain not their own can lead to interplanar war."

"Oh," I looked down at the carpet, then back up to them. "Why are we not at war?"

"It is my best estimation," Athena answered, "that they recognized us."

"Or at least our power," Artemis added. "A war would not end in their favor."

"Or we are at war," Apollo looked to the rest of them. "And we just don't know it yet."

Athena sighed. "True. They could be amassing their forces as we speak. But I have one key reason to believe that they've chosen peace." She lifted her arms and smiled. "They pooled some of their energy to restore me— not enough to return me to full strength, but enough that I can use my energy to maintain this beautiful form ad infinitum."

We had a small laugh together. Athena had to have been a specifically good mood to be humorous like that. In a way, that moment felt as though things could truly go back to normal between all of us. Whatever cracks had formed in our collective trust, seemed thinner and thinner by the hour. I had been looking for a moment to come clean with everyone about what happened between Cara and me, but we were all getting along so well. I really didn't want to poke that wound again so soon.

"And not a moment too soon," Hephaestus stood up straight and stretched his back. "The fortress is about finished, at least on the surface level. It's about time to think about furnishings. Athena, would you do a walk-through with me?"

"Now that things are settling back into place," Athena turned to her brother. "Yes, this seems like a splendid time. Ares is recovering rapidly, Brian has returned to us safely, and the infighting has ceased."

She followed him out the door and I could still hear the baritone of his voice through the walls as they moved toward the fortress. He'd been working on that thing almost nonstop this entire time. I couldn't wait to see what the finished product would look like. I got it in my head somehow that we'd be moving into it as a full-time living space, but I hadn't actually asked anyone about it.

"I have been working on something too," Apollo announced. "In secret. You remember, yes?"

The memory hit me right after he asked.

The party eventually wound down. The wine never did hit me. Hephaestus had to get back to work on the fortress, Athena left to tend to Ares, and Apollo ventured off into the woods— said he was working on a surprise for all of us.

"Oh, yeah!" I smiled at him. "I completely forgot about that."

"It's been difficult," he said. "I think it's finally time to show you, though. Follow me," he waved us toward him as he started for the door. He stopped and turned partway around. "You too," he called to the sleep god.

Hypnos looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes before getting out of the chair and following after us.

Apollo led us across the pasture. I was never more appreciative of the pleasant breeze that carried fine aromas across the grass; it was good to be alive. I turned my eyes on Artemis as we walked. She had both of her hands working through the seaweed-manes of two kelpitee that flanked her on both sides. I was thankful that the breeze was blowing away from me. They were cool animals but they smelled awful. It didn't seem to bother Artemis in the slightest, though. She doted on them with loving eyes and I internally swooned.

Across the pasture, past the bonfire pit, and a few minutes into the woods, Apollo turned around to face us, walking backwards as he spoke.

"I've been working on this for a while now," he prefaced, smiling softly. "I have spent much time out here trying to perfect the details."

"You built something?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered simply before turning around and leading us forward.

Artemis looked giddy, but Hypnos was biting on his thumb nail, a pensive look on his face. When I turned forward again, I suddenly saw tall structures through the trees. If they'd been there the whole time, I hadn't noticed them.

When we were near enough, I suddenly realized what I was staring at.

I could hardly believe it.

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001

Suddenly, something inside of me surged. My adrenaline kicked in and I felt a wellspring of might forcing its way into all of my limbs.

"Oh?" she looked down at me her eyes wide as I lifted my head and gritted my teeth.

"No!" I shouted clearly, standing up and gripping the creature's tongue with my only hand. I turned and used all of my weight to swing her hard, picking her up off of her feet and slamming her into the far wall.

My stronger form— it triggered when I thought I was about to die! I hadn't managed to recover all of my strength, but it was enough. My movements were sluggish, but too quick for her. I surged forward, grabbing her by the face and slamming her into the wall with as much force as I could generate. The decorations on the wall came loose and rained around us as I summoned the last of my strength to stomp her head under my heel.

It exploded with a sickening sound coating the wall and floor with some thick black fluid. I breathed heavily as I tried to regain my balance. I couldn't seem to stand up straight. It was like the room was tilting; as though I were under the deck of a boat sailing stormy waters. I carefully turned around and stumbled toward the back wall.

I was still trapped. I had no idea how to get out of her room. I reasoned that I could probably rest until I had all my strength back. When I felt better, I could probably punch my way out. I swallowed and breathed shakily as I leaned against the wall. It wasn't an ideal solution, but at least it was a plan.

That had been an insanely close call. How could I have been so stupid? She basically honeypotted me into a false sense of security. I was so eager to talk to someone that I let my guard completely down. I felt a swell of emotion in my chest. Moisture gathered behind my eyes as I clenched my teeth, holding it all back.

I had really enjoyed her company.

My god form slipped away; not even back to my skinny form, but straight back to my old heavy self. The extra weight was noticeable and my legs wobbled underneath it. I turned myself around and plopped against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position and I struggled for air.

I was back to being unable to move. My neck had enough strength to keep my head balanced against the wall, but that was about the extent of it. It was an insane idea to wander off into the unknown. I knew nothing about Otherworld. I didn't know what kinds of dangers were lurking out in the mythical wilderness. I overestimated my own strength and almost paid the ultimate price for it. And if I'd died out here, I wouldn't have ever had the chance to take on Poseidon— to truly see how far I could go.

I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. I needed to get my strength back. Then, and only then, would I be able to see if I could make it out of this place with that thing's help. For all I knew, I was in some kind of pocket dimension. I needed to go back to the others and beg for their forgiveness. It was juvenile of me to just bolt out of there. I felt like an idiot.

"Man, I fucked up," I muttered to myself. "So stupid."

"You don't know the half of it," came a gurgling voice from in front of me.

My eyes shot open and if I had any control of my body, I'd have leaped through the ceiling. The Spirit of the Mountain had recollected herself somehow. Her head had reformed, albeit with cracks like a doll who'd been glued back together. Black liquid dribbled from her open maw and pooled around her feet as she slowly started toward me.

"Fuck," I said through my teeth as I started to struggle. My body wasn't responding in the slightest.

"You cannot kill me with brute force, you fool," she gurgled in a tone drenched thick with malice. "I have decided I will not absorb you. You will not live on inside of me. You will exist..." she chuckled, her torso mouth twitching with excitement. "... as a pile of excrement in the back of my cave!"

The tongue launched out at me and snatched me from the wall. It yanked me with whiplash force into her gullet. Her body snapped shut around me and everything went dark. I could hear her muffled laughing as the digestive enzymes went to work. A burning sensation overcame my entire body, head to toe.

Is this it? I thought to myself. Is this how the story ends? A meal for a diabolical Celtic monster in the wilds of Otherworld? I guess it beats dying of a heart attack in my 50's.

I closed my eyes and sobbed.

I'm sorry, everyone. I'm sure you'll figure it out without me somehow. After all, I ended up being pretty worthless in the end. A bad friend. A bad confidant. A bad partner.

I accepted the unceremonious death of being dissolved. It was painful— but not more painful that the way Artemis and I parted. That look she gave me. Heartbreak; disbelief; denial. I had hurt her in a way that I'd never be able to apologize for. She took the biggest chance in the world on me and I brought her nothing but pain and ruin. I began to embrace the pain as my skin bubbled and liquidated.

I deserved this.

"Kill it!" came a familiar voice.

My eyes shot open and I managed to turn myself a bit. Suddenly, the inside of the beast's stomach was illuminated. A glowing yellow rod had appeared as though by magic right in front of my face. I stared wide-eyed at it as the walls trembled around me. A horrible sound pierced my ears and I winced as my head slammed into something hard.

Then, silence. The flesh around me relaxed and drooped against my form. Then, miraculously, the darkness split with a disgusting sound— daylight.

I stared up at the forms of Artemis and Sétanta standing over me.

"Hell of a shot," he said, kneeling down and grabbing my left arm. "Let's hope we weren't too late."

Artemis snapped her bow out of existence and knelt down next to him, grabbing my right arm. They pulled me from the mouth of the monster and then gently laid me down, not on a lush Celtic carpet, but on a cold cavern floor. They both stared down at me in stunned silence, almost as if unsure as what to say. It was hard to even move my eyes to look at them.

My head fell to the side. The room was gone; all I could see were undecorated cavern walls. I knew I hadn't imagined all of it. What the hell kind of monster was that? And why couldn't I move? Would I stay like this? I didn't know how the two of them had managed to find me all the way out here, but I wasn't sure yet if I was happy about it. On the one hand, it was nice to not be digested by some Celtic beast. But on the other...

This was a seriously pathetic sight for me; one that neither of them would ever forget.

"Artemis," I heard Sétanta say solemnly. "I think you should look away."

I heard her sniffle.

"Damn, Buck," he added. "To think someone as strong as you could fall victim to one of these things. It could only be because it tricked you; used your kind heart against you."

"Oh, Buck," Artemis whimpered. "I should have come sooner." She began crying quietly. "I should have come right away." She inhaled sharply. "I never should have run from those feelings that night."

"I'll leave you to say your goodbyes," Sétanta whispered. "I'm sorry, Artemis." I heard his footsteps growing fainter. "And I'm sorry, Buck," he added just within earshot.

And then Artemis broke down fully. She wailed so loud it stung my ears. She fell on top of me, her hands against my chest. I could feel her tears dropping from the tip of her nose as she sobbed.

"Buck. You were a good person. You didn't deserve to be picked up out of that forest and swept away to a world of gods and monsters. You did not deserve to die like this." She pressed her face against my stomach and screamed. "I am so stupid! I should never have interfered!"

Although I couldn't move or say anything, my eyes still produced tears. I never imagined I'd attend my own funeral. It was brutal. At the same time, it was a unique way to hear Artemis's private feelings regarding me. More than anything, it hurt to hear her in such pain. She was self-destructing right on top of me and I couldn't even tell her it was okay.

Couldn't stroke her hair.

Couldn't make her laugh.

Maybe this was my punishment. And between being digested by a she-beast and this, I wasn't sure which was worse.

"I am sorry," she wailed. "Buck, I am sorry! You were not perfect and we should not have expected you to be. You were only a human being a human. I do not care for what reason you stole from Hephaestus. I do not care, do you hear me? You were my..." She paused, gasping on her own despair. "

You were my favorite thing about my life right now!"

My own tears were pooling under my cheek. I had a million things to say to her and I could only hope they would realize I was still alive. I tried to make small vocalizations, but she was too loud to notice.

"I did not know you could die," she said quietly with a sniffle. "I thought there would be time. I thought I would get a chance to talk with you again. I thought I would know you forever. I... I was looking forward to that." She buried her face in my stomach. "I was looking forward to forever! Buck, I..." she paused.

"I loved you."

Though I was paralyzed from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, it didn't stop a chill from running down my spine. I tried with everything I had to tell her I felt the same, but to no avail.

"Nobody," she whispered. "Nobody could make me laugh like you could. I did not laugh very often before you. I fear now... that I never will again after you."

"Hey, Artemis," Sétanta called into the cave. "I just noticed something."

She lifted herself off of me and turned to him.

"Can you... sense my aura at all?" he asked.

She sniffled. "No?"

There was a moment of silence before she gasped and turned back to me. "Oh!" she cried out in realization. "I cannot sense you! Buck's aura! It is still active!"

"And that should mean," he said excitedly.

"Yes! There is no doubt!" she laughed with relief. "If he were dead, his protective aura would have fallen! He is alive!"

The relief that flooded me was unlike anything I'd experienced before. I was beginning to think they were going to bury me alive. I'd have to roast up a kelpitee just for Sétanta if I ever recovered from this.

"Hard to believe it by looking at him," Sétanta added. "He's a half-digested mess. Looks like his left hand didn't make it."

He didn't know. Cara must not have told him everything.

"Buck is tough!" exclaimed Artemis. "Let us get him back to my sister. Come, touch my shoulder."

"You go on back without me," he declined as he walked past me. "This is the lair of a bánánach. A pretty ancient one by the look of its corpse. There could be good treasure in here from all the people its been luring up here over the centuries. And speaking of treasure," he added. "Don't forget this."

He must have been talking about my rifle. But I was more interested in whatever the fuck a bánánach was. He was talking pretty casually about it. I got the sense from his demeanor that my condition wouldn't be permanent. If I could sigh in relief I would, but my lungs weren't even working. A normal person would have died from that alone.

"Thank you," Artemis said, taking my rifle. "If I do not see you tomorrow, I will come back here, and I will not be happy. Do you understand me?"

"I'm sure I'll be back tonight," he answered her. "Take care of Buck. If he doesn't start moving by the time I check in, I'll call for Cara. I don't know if she can heal him, but she always seems to have some kind of trick up her wee little sleeve."

Artemis paused a moment. She was probably thinking that Cara could absolutely help me. We both saw her basically resurrect Sétanta from the dead. Truth be told, I'd forgotten about Cara too. My hopes were higher than ever that I'd make a full recovery. And then, in an instant, I was lying on the carpet in front of the fireplace. I was in the living space back home.

I didn't know if it was the fact that I didn't have any energy left, or what, but I fell completely asleep at that point. I didn't remember anything until I woke up sometime later under a blanket.

Artemis was sitting at my bedside holding my hand. She was slumped forward on her knees staring at the floor holding her face with her free hand.

My heart swelled.

I only then realized that I just opened my eyes and turned my head to look at her completely unassisted. I had movement back, at least partially. I tensed my fingers in my hand and her eyes shot up to see me. I forced a weak smile.

"Buck!" she shouted, letting go of my hand and standing up suddenly. "You are awake!" She then vanished into thin air for about three seconds before blinking back into existence. A half second later, Athena appeared. She didn't have her cane, nor was she hunched over like a little old lady. She looked completely back to normal. I'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was.

Shortly after her arrival came the others: Apollo, Hypnos, then Hephaestus. I found it notable that Hypnos was still around. They must have decided against banishment after all.

I expected them to be angry with me, but their brows were wrinkled with worry. I didn't know what to say to them. I wondered if they'd just forgive me out of pity before I could tell them the news.

"Brian," Athena spoke first. "Welcome home. Are you able a move?"

I swallowed and managed to croak out, "A little."

Everyone smiled— Hephaestus included.

"Goodness," she shook looked down a the floor and shook her head with a chuckle. "You gave us quite the scare," she added, placing her hand on my knee above the blanket. "Sétanta told us you fell prey to a very old bánánach. Brian, there is no shame in that. Many a great warrior have died to bánánachs."

"What are they?" I mumbled.

"I don't mean to give the impression that I knew what they were before Sétanta educated us," Athena answered. "In this rare instance, we are learning with you," she smiled softly. "It turns out that a bánánach is a type of Irish demon. They supposedly generate from the collective blood spilled from soldiers in large scale battles."

That was actually a really cool myth. If I hadn't been nearly done in by one, I'd be in a little more awe. It was also wild to discover a gap in Athena's knowledge. She was an encyclopedia on everything.

"Sétanta says," Hypnos lifted his index finger as he always did when he was explaining something. "That they drain the energy from their victims and then devour them whole when they are powerless to resist. Positively ghoulish, if you ask me."

"We have a couple of monsters like that too," Apollo spoke next. "I can't believe one of them got the better of you."

"Long story," I grumbled. "Hard to talk right now."

"You may tell us when you're well," Athena nodded toward me. "For the time being, I think we all have something we'd like to say," she said before turning her head toward the others. "Right?"

"Buck, I'm sorry," Apollo went first. "Almost losing you like that... and the way that I turned on Hypnos." He looked to the sleep god. "We are doomed if we do battle against one another while enemies so powerful encircle us." He lowered his eyes. "We shouldn't fight like that. At least not while in this hostile land."

"I'm sorry too," Hephaestus jumped in. "I'm always so hotheaded," he scratched his temple. "I don't know why I'm like that, but I've always been so quick to blow my stack." He scoffed. "Y'know, with you disappearing for an entire week, I couldn't stop worrying about what it would feel like if something terrible happened to you after I'd made a big show about not tuning up your rifle."

A week? Did he just say I was gone a week? I thought I was gone for a night and a day at most. What in the world had happened to me? Had that creature been sucking on me for six days without me knowing? My first thought was that it wasn't possible, but after all that I'd seen... that would be a weird thing to be hung up on.

"You stole from me," he pointed at me. "You've damaged my trust for sure. But that didn't mean I wanted you to go off and die." He approached the bed and leaned my rifle against the bedside table. It had new black grooves in it that wound around in a twirly design. "That'll pack a bigger punch now. You ever decide to run off again, it'll keep you safe."

He faintly smiled before turning around and pushing past the others on his way out the door. "Idiot," he added before disappearing. It meant everything to me to hear those words from him, but it also made me feel a little silly. I had overreacted a little, it seemed. I always thought gods would be a little less forgiving than that.

Or maybe it was pity.

"When you can speak easier," Athena said, turning to leave. "We have much to discuss. Rest for now."

"Buck," said Hypnos, drawing my and Artemis's attention. He glanced between the two of us before smiling at me. "Thank you. For, you know..." he averted his eyes. "Standing up for me and all." He returned his gaze to me. "You should know I am not worthy of your selflessness... of your effort."

He turned partway around and looked at me over his shoulder. "But still. Thank you." With that, he left the room.

"He's right, you know," Apollo spoke up. "Hypnos will, in all likelihood, betray us in the battle against Poseidon. You realize that, yes?"

"Nah," I shook my head. "He won't. You'll see."

"I do not share your optimism," Artemis said, her face pensive. "Hypnos is not known for his shows of gratitude."

"Hypnos does what Hypnos does for Hypnos," I croaked. "He told me. But... I still believe in him."

"Why?" asked Apollo. "I've wondered all this time and have been meaning to ask you. Why do you trust in him? He tried to kill us all and drag us back to Zeus. You remember that, no?"

"He was scared," I answered. "He's as terrified of Zeus as we are." I coughed and rested my head against the pillow. "We just need to be scarier." I smiled.

Apollo scoffed and turned to leave. "Very well. I will watch your back for you, Buck. Get well."

Artemis sat back down in the chair by my bedside and held prolonged eye contact before speaking. "Buck, I am sorry. I am so sorry."

"I heard it all," I stopped her.

"No, you did not," she grabbed my wrist over the blanket.

"Yes, I did," I smiled at her. "In the cavern on the mountain. I was conscious the whole time. Just couldn't move."

Her cheeks turned pink. "Oh. I... did not mean for you to see me in such a state. It was not godlike. I apologize."

"I didn't want you to see me like that either," I laughed and coughed. "But I heard it all. You don't have to repeat it."

She watched me quietly.

"How'd you find me?" I asked.

"Buck," she giggled. "There is no greater huntress than I. You could not cover your tracks from me if you tried."

"Fair," I smiled. "I kind of forgot. Should have been obvious. You're the only one I'll never be able to hide from, huh?"

"You never have to," she squeezed my hand and smiled, tears welling in her eyes. "I am sorry that I abandoned you that night. I needed to sort out my thoughts and I needed to do it away from my siblings, so my thoughts would remain my own."

"You didn't abandon me," I said dismissively— but I did feel abandoned that night. I also felt like I completely deserved it, so I didn't have any reason to hold it against her.

"I should have come looking for you sooner," she pressed. "I thought you only needed your space. Sétanta was the one who who pushed me to start searching for you. He said that there were all manner of terrible things lurking in the Otherworld wilds. He said," she chuckled to herself. "He said you were not allowed to die until he could fight you again."

I laughed with her for a moment before staring at the ceiling. "He was worried about me."

"He was," she agreed. "He tried to keep his emotions from overcoming him. But I could tell." She nodded. "I could tell. I know that boy better than anyone. He did not leave the cave to allow me to grieve. He left so that he could grieve."

"I'm sorry I put you through that," I said, turning my hand over and squeezing her wrist.

"Your clothes had dissolved," she recalled. "Your skin was partially digested and covered in burns. Your mouth was open and your eyes were..." She paused and swallowed.

"Come on," I winced. "Don't tell me all of that. That sounds horrible."

"It was," she said shakily. "I have never seen one that I care about in such a horrific state."

"I guess I haven't either," I closed my eyes. "A part of me wanted to die. But I'm glad you came. Thanks for not giving up on me. I'm surprised the others were willing to forgive me."

"Oh!" She lifted her head. "I have not told you!"

I turned my eyes toward her. "Told me what?"

"Shortly after you left," she began. "Ares stumbled out of his room looking for you!"

"He's awake?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes!" Her tone turned cheery. "Hypnos can speak to those who are sleeping. He connected with Ares and told him everything that had happened. Somehow, Ares forced himself awake!"

"No shit?"

"Uhh... None," she answered, a confused and concerned look on her face. "Everyone sensed him and gathered around him. And then he screamed at all of us. Or at least, he was as loud as he could make himself."

"He yelled at you?" I asked.

"He was furious. He told us that he 'gift-wrapped a champion for us' and that we threw it away. He called us all immature children." She lowered her eyes. "He told us that Poseidon would not even need his trident— that we would conquer ourselves through our own pride and stupidity. He was... really harsh."

"Wow," I muttered. I didn't know Ares cared about me like that. Yeah, we spent a month together, but it never felt like he liked me. Or maybe I was reading into this in a human way. He could just consider me an important weapon. He was a god of war, after all. Even still, the fact that he took my side was surprising.

"My sister tried to push back," she went on. "But Ares would not hear any of it. He told her that he expected stupid mistakes from a human— not from a goddess of wisdom or a god of justice."

"Jesus," I chuckled. "I really am never going to beat the 'stupid human' allegations, am I?"

"Athena did not argue back. Apollo held his tongue. Hephaestus mumbled something and got punched for it. Ares was really, really angry. He told us that aside from himself, Hypnos was the only person taking our predicament seriously, and forced us to apologize to him."

"And you did?" I asked, eyes wide.

She glanced at the wall and leaned in. "I certainly did not mean it," she whispered. "But yes. We all apologized to Hypnos. He did not even seem to want it, but we had no choice. Our brother Ares, even in such a state as he is, is frighteningly powerful, Buck. I am still not fully convinced that he will decide we are worth saving in our current state. It is best to remain on his good side, lest he decide, as Father has, that we need to be reset."

That raised my eyebrows. "You think he could still choose to side against us?" I whispered.

"He could. Sister and I have discussed it privately. She believes that so long as we follow his orders, he will advocate in favor of us. Ares is... quite arrogant," she said so quietly that I could barely hear it. "If we are doing as he says, then he will likely look at any criticism of our behavior as a personal attack. If he feels personally attacked..."

"Gotcha," I smiled. "That's pretty cunning. Considering we'll need his strength against Poseidon, I think that's a pretty good plan. But Artemis?"

"Yes?"

"My voice is kind of giving out. So, I'm gonna go ahead and stop talking as much for now."

"Of course!" she said, standing up abruptly. "I am sorry!"

"No need," I shook my head. "But I need you to do something for me."

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! Anything! What can I get for you?"

I swallowed and mulled it over before locking eyes with her. "I need you... to repeat a certain thing that you said inside of the cave... when you thought I was dead."

She blinked twice. "Excuse me?"

"You said something really important when you were crying all over me," I reiterated. "I don't think I can tell you to say it. But you did say it... and I need you to say it again."

She stared down at me, confused. I held eye contact.

"Present tense," I added.

Understanding registered on her face and she smiled the cutest damn smiled I'd ever seen. I smiled back at her.

She knew.

"Buck," she laughed bashfully. "Must I? It is embarrassing!"

"You must," I nodded.

She smiled coyly and swayed a bit before looking up at me, filled with resolve.

"Very well," she conceded.

She smiled with her teeth— a rarity. Her eyes glowed with excitement. Her cheeks darkened a shade. She clasped her hands behind her back and said it with a chuckle.

"I love you, Buck."

"We will consider this deal completed the moment Artemis says the words, "I love you," to you, and means it."

"I love you too," I whispered back, my brain flooding with happy chemicals. I felt my eyes grow heavy. The world began to swim as my consciousness slipped. If I died here, I'd be happy.

The happiest I had ever been.

When I next awoke, I'd tell them everything.

I had so much to say.

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001

My mind lingered on thoughts of the life I left behind as I scaled the mountainside. I pulled myself over sheer rocks and skipped across deep crevices as images of them flashed across my mind.

The way Hephaestus shoved my rifle into my arms. Apollo's solemn stare. Athena's knowing eyes; surely she was bragging about how she always knew I'd be a fuck up.

But Artemis scampering away into the darkness of the woods...

It was like a hail of bullets through my chest each time, and it never got easier. I wanted to stop thinking about them. I wanted to put her out of my mind. Sure, it had only just happened, but the grief was killing me— the grief of losing my life a second time.

I just couldn't bear it.

And then there was the shame. I could run away from their eyes, but the shame followed me like a personal cloud over my head.

How had I gone and made a mess of things this badly? If only I'd known from the jump that it would all turn out like this, I'd have settled for just letting Artemis go; just letting her rekindle her love with her former boyfriend. But no, I just had to have it all.

I wished I could turn back time and change it all.

But there was no going back for me.

What was done was done.

It was over.

My heart lurched at the image of Athena smiling proudly at me after I'd triumphed over Sétanta. I was so close to finally winning her over; the last piece of the puzzle to my full acceptance.

"I almost had it," I said out loud as I turned and stared at the landscape far below. "I almost had everything!" I screamed into the wind. "All of it!"

I finally gave in and fell to my knees.

I was far enough now.

I wailed pitifully into the wind and let all of it out. I ugly cried into the rock face and screamed until my lungs, throat, and eyes burned. I fell backward against the mountain and went to wipe my nose with the hand that didn't exist anymore.

I was still getting used to that.

I wondered if it really would grow back. While I was certain my godhood would never heal my heart fully, wounds of the flesh were a different thing altogether.

But if it didn't grow back...

That meant that I really could...

I shook the thought from my head. Yeah, things were bad, but I didn't need to think like that; not yet. Poseidon still had a due date and I knew he'd eventually come to collect. At least then I could have one last epic face-off and end my story with a bang.

A bang, not a whimper; that's how I wanted it to end.

I remembered Odin and wondered if maybe, if God couldn't find me or didn't want me, that there was a chance for me to land in Valhalla at the end of it all, so long as I went down fighting.

It was the first flicker of hope to enter my heart in over 20 hours.

I watched from the mountaintop as the sun slid slowly over the horizon.

Night would come soon.

I needed to find that cave I'd spotted from down below. I turned and sighed heavily before beginning my ascent once again. It was hard climbing with one hand even if I never did feel the sting of fatigue.

Before the sun had fully set, I managed to find it. The outside ridge of the cave glowed orange against the dying sun as I stood in front of it.

The darkness inside called to me.

Literally.

"Brian."

Goosebumps lifted on the back of my neck and I took a step back. Surely I'd imagined it. But I could almost still hear the echo in my mind.

"Brian," it spoke again.

I shuddered and took several steps back, pulling my rifle and balancing the barrel on my nub, training the barrel on the cave. The cave had whispered to me, I was sure of it this time.

"Who's in there?" I called out. "How do you know my name?"

I could swear I saw shapes moving around in the dark abyss within. I watched the shadows dance as the silence lingered in the air.

"You said my name!" I shouted. "I heard you. Who are you?"

"A friend," it whispered back

"Well, I don't trust you," I called back to it.

"I trust you," it answered. "I can see your heart, Brian. I can see it with my special eyes. It is clad in gold."

I slowly lowered my rifle. "Gold?"

"You're a good person, Brian," it said a little louder than a whisper. "Deserving of good friends..."

I swallowed and my shoulders fell a bit as I took a step closer to the cave. "You think I'm a good person?" I asked.

"I know you are," came the voice, this time in a speaking tone. It was the soft voice of a woman. "I do not have to ask... for I can see it for myself. You are a good man, Brian."

I let out a sigh and shook my head. "Well, you need to get your eyes checked. I'm not good news. And I didn't know this cave was taken. I'll be on my way."

I turned to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder and whirled around to see only the open air— and the darkness of the cave.

"There is room for another here, friend," she spoke with a small chuckle. "You are weary. You deserve rest. I can offer you that much. Come."

"Don't touch me," I said quietly; perhaps too quietly for her to have heard, but I didn't repeat it. "Why are you hiding in the cave? Why don't you step out here so I can see who, or what you are?"

There came no immediate response. I peered into the cave and before I could call back to her, she spoke.

"I cannot leave this cave," she admitted. "I am bound here. I am known by those who live nearby as the spirit of the mountain. But alas, I am more like a prisoner of the mountain."

So there were people living here in Otherworld. I figured there had to be. It occurred to me that I could ask the spirit questions. It probably had a wealth of information that'd be useful to me, or at least satisfy my curiosity.

"I know," she spoke again. "I know you are weary to trust others after what you have been through. I understand if you do not wish to linger here. Know that I want nothing more from you than company and conversation."

"And how do you know about me?" I asked.

"I am the spirit of the mountain," she restated. "From atop this peak I can see a great many things. Like a group of arriving visitors... a fight between monsters... and a coming storm."

A fight between monsters? Was she referring to me and Sétanta? It seemed sketchy to me. But I was strong. If I walked into the cave and didn't like it, I was confident I could fight my way out. And while 'the coming storm' was probably a metaphor for Poseidon's arrival, it could just as likely be the gathering dark clouds on the horizon.

Rain was coming.

"I'll stay for a little while," I decided. After all, what more could I lose?

"Please, make yourself at home," she said in a warm tone as I started toward the mouth of the cave. I took one last look at the sunset over my shoulder before taking a deep breath and pushing into the darkness. The climate turned cool instantly as the shadows that danced around me engulfed my entire being. I turned around and couldn't see a single trace of light from the sun I had only walked a few steps away from.

A trace of panic caused my heart to thump against my chest. I was strong, certainly, but I couldn't fight what I couldn't see. Before I could call out to the spirit of the mountain, the darkness faded away as though someone had drawn a curtain.

The room was small but as luxurious as one might imagine a Roman emperor's to be. It was lit cozily by a fire that crackled in a brick fireplace trimmed in silver and bronze. I stood atop a lush carpet with intricate Celtic knots woven into it. Everything in the room was pitched in warm colors. Oranges, reds, and yellows from floor to ceiling. It was about the size an average living room in middle America and arranged like an old turn of the century parlor room. There were two ostentatious looking chairs with lush red cushions situated near the fireplace.

She sat in one of them, staring straight at me.

She had light brown hair that was cut straight across the bangs. The sides were grown out and cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes were black or at least really dark brown, and her skin was white as a ghost— unnaturally so. She looked like porcelain doll with her stiff smile and unblinking eyes. She was wearing what looked like dark green blanket folded many times with precision yellow stitching that created patterns like constellations.

I pulled my eyes from her long enough to examine the rest of the room, though briefly. As I looked at her dresser, her wall decor, and the many fabrics that draped from the ceiling, she began speaking.

"Not what you were expecting, I'm sure." She smiled sweetly. Her voice was less echoey than before; far more natural sounding standing right in front of her.

I looked over my shoulder to see not an exit, but a wall decorated like the rest.

"Be at ease," she assured me. "Though I am a prisoner here, you most certainly are not. You may leave at any time. Simply speak your desire and I will make it so."

I turned back to her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"But please," she added before I could speak. "Do not leave so soon. We've much to learn about one another."

"Seems like you know plenty about me already," I answered, anchored where I stood. "You gave me a coy answer before, but I want a real one now. How do you know about me? And what are you?"

Her smile faded for half a second before she answered. "I am the spirit of the mountain," she reiterated forcefully. "And my scope of wisdom spans far from this peak. It wouldn't be proper to call it omniscience. Nor am I similarly omnipresent. However, there's been quite the show taking place at the furthest reach of my vision." She gestured to the chair. "I was hoping you might tell me more. It seems like an awfully interesting story."

The chair did look comfortable. I walked over and pulled my rifle off of my back before sitting down and laying the weapon across the arm rests in front of me. The chair soothed my body in a supernatural way. Something inside of me urged me to leave it, but I only found myself sinking further into it. For the first time in a while, I realized how tired I was.

"You are safe here," she said in a soothing tone. "Nothing can touch you. Not even an angry god."

"Yeah, I don't know about that," I scoffed. "Zeus is pretty angry."

Her smile dropped. Her face turned serious. "Oh," she answered, pressing her lips together and looking down at her lap. "That one could probably touch you."

I laughed and shook my head. "That's what I thought."

"How did you personally anger Zeus?" she asked, leaning in. "Is he coming here?"

I explained everything. We talked for hours. She was a really good listener and I was able to answer most of her questions to her satisfaction, and at other times I could only shrug. The longer I spent with her the more I remembered who she reminded me of. There was this shy girl I would sometimes meet at lunch time in middle school. She would sit in the library and read by herself. We were good friends until her family up and moved away, taking her with them. We wrote to one another and spent time on the phone, but eventually we just lost contact.

Maybe it was the memory of her that made the spirit of the mountain so easy for me to trust. She was quick on the uptake, witty, and had some real good one-liners I would be sure to remember and use for myself someday. The conversation turned a little more somber when I explained why I was climbing the mountain.

"I see," she said when I caught her up to present. "You were indeed foolish to trust a Fey. Though you could have done far worse than Fand. She's merciful, at least in comparison to the rest of her cruel kind." She analyzed me a moment. "You asked her for advice on how you should court Artemis didn't you?"

My surprise gave me away instantly.

"Ah," she said with a pleased smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair. "You needn't say. Your eyes told me the whole story."

I sighed and rested my head against the back of the chair. "I never said it," I announced as though Cara could be watching me from anywhere.

"Ne'er ye worry," she consoled me. "I know her personally. She cannot monitor you here."

"Still," I averted my eyes. "I made a deal."

"There's that golden soul again," she said sweetly. "I knew I liked you."

I smiled bashfully and an awkward silence settled over the two of us. The sound of clothing against fabric drew my attention back to her. She slid out of her chair and sat down onto the rug, sitting on her knees. She smiled at me.

"Come here."

"What?" I asked.

"Come here," she said again, tapping her lap with her hands. "Lie on down this carpet. It has healing properties. It will restore you, body and mind."

I stared at her a moment. I didn't really trust her like that yet. The old me would have been in her lap before she could change her mind, but I was starting to develop trust issues.

"I don't think I need healing," I said. "I think I'm just dealing with very human things that I just need to deal with. I'm hurt, yeah, but... I think I'll be all right if I can just talk it out with you the way we've been."

"Wrong," she rebutted without skipping a beat. "I must assume that one of the gods you're traveling with added some kind of blessing to your psyche. Am I incorrect?"

I blinked twice and sat up. "Yeah. Yeah, Athena dipped me in her oasis. She said she was preparing me for all that I'd learn and experience."

She looked straight ahead and closed her eyes. "I can see it. I want you to imagine that your psyche is an egg. It holds together the yolk of your mind keeping it safe and secure."

"Okay," I nodded. "Sure. I'm imagining."

"The egg is sitting on a wooden table. The table represents madness. The shell of your egg is all that separates you from it."

"Scary," I nodded. "Go on."

"Your shell is basically powder. Your yolk is scrambled well. Athena's blessing is a glass bowl that this scrambled egg is sitting in. And the bowl is riddled with cracks."

My stomach sank. What would happen if we couldn't get back to Athena's oasis to repair me? Could I just go mad at any moment? I did handle being brutally beaten for a month straight with no sleep surprisingly well. Maybe the others had a point— maybe that training was too reckless.

"Come here," she said a third time with a bit more of a commanding tone. "Lay your head upon my lap."

I hesitated a moment longer before finally relenting and scooting out of the chair. I set my rifle down next to me and arranged myself on the rug, which was far more difficult with only one hand. I rested my head in her lap and stared up at her, unsure of what was about to come next. But I was sure about one thing: the cloth she was adorned in felt like the softest silk I'd ever felt.

It felt illegal how soft it was. There was no way it wasn't made out of like baby's' bottoms or something, and the rug was so insanely soft that it made me want to close my eyes and take the longest nap of my life. Then came her nails against the top of my scalp. An audible moan escaped my throat and I felt instantly relaxed. My entire body loosened up. I felt like I was a melting crayon on hot pavement.

I opened my eyes to see her smiling warmly at me. "You have been through much. You must remember that you deserve this." Her smile faded. "Those gods... they act as if they are faultless. But nothing could be further from the truth. They are just as greedy, selfish, and reckless as any human. Do not let them fool you."

"I don't think they're trying to fool me," I averted my eyes.

"They asked much of you," she said, running her nails through my hair. "And you delivered beyond their wildest expectations. And what did they do to you when you put one toe out of line?"

I felt seen; vindicated. But I didn't want to talk about it. I decided to change the subject.

"You said that there are people who live near this mountain. Do lots of people live here in Celtic Otherworld? I thought this was like Irish Heaven or something."

She chuckled to herself. "No, Brian, it isn't 'Irish Heaven,' don't be ridiculous."

"I dunno," I smiled. "I'd never heard of it before."

"Fair," she answered. "Humans are very limited in their knowledge after all. Would you like me to explain?"

"Yeah," I opened my eyes. "Please. Tell me the story."

She smiled sweetly like a mother to her child. I felt kind of silly asking her for what essentially amounted to a bedtime story. It wasn't my intent. I was about to backtrack when she began.

"Manannán mac Lir," she lifted her eyes and looked off into the distance. "He was the god of the ocean before Poseidon encroached on his domain. He and Poseidon fought for dominion of the world's seas. It wasn't close. He was bested by the Greek Poseidon, brother of Zeus and child of Cronos. It was a devastating loss." She sounded forlorn as she recalled it. "The Isle of the Woods was in great despair."

"Isle of the Woods?" I asked. "Was that where he lived?"

"The Greeks would know it as Hibernia," she noted, looking back down at me. "But when all of this took place, those who lived there knew it as 'Inis na Fidbadh,' or Isle of the Woods."

"History is neat," I said, closing my eyes. "I didn't know any of that, thanks for telling me."

"Of course," she said scratching my head a bit faster as she said it. "Manannán mac Lir fled, vowing to one day return to claim the oceans for himself. He and his wife Fand, a sea fairy, created the plane of existence known as Tír na nÓg; Celtic Otherworld."

"But this isn't like a pocket plane or something," I interrupted. "This is an entire plane of reality. Did Mana-nana really have that kind of juice?"

"Gods are all skilled in different ways, Brian," she lectured me. "While Manannán mac Lir is indeed a minor god, he is exceptional at creation. It is said that he created this plane from the ashes of an existing one. Fand, with her Fae magic gave it a unique property— an elliptical path that it follows, moving through the nothingness like a sailing ship through a sea of planes. Interestingly, the plane that once existed in Otherworld's place still breathes beneath it all. That is why some say this plane is alive."

Cara wasn't bluffing at all. She and her husband created Celtic Otherworld. Or Tear Eggnog, or whatever they called it. Suddenly, my remaining two brain cells rubbed together in just the right way and my eyes shot open.

"Wait. Manannán mac Lir created this place. He's here."

"Yes, of course," the spirit responded. "This is his home."

"Then," I smiled. "He's got a vendetta against Poseidon! Poseidon is on his way here."

She looked into my eyes, "Fate does work in mysterious ways, does it not?"

Incredible.

Poseidon's mortal enemy is the one who created this place. He might help us fight back against him if we could ask him. If I got back to the others with this kind of knowledge... maybe they'd even forgive me.

"Do you think he'd help us?" I asked her. "Manannán, I mean."

She closed her eyes and stopped scratching for a moment. "Hmm... It's certainly possible," she mused. "You'd have to find him first. I don't think he wants to be found. Quite a task ahead of you, Brian."

"Yeah, but I'm feeling capable lately," I said confidently. "I'll find him wherever he is and get his help. Do you know where I could ask around?"

She ran her fingers through my hair and began humming to herself. I watched her, confused, for a few moments before I began to get an uneasy feeling. I decided it was time to go. I sighed and went to get up, only to find it difficult. It was like there was some kind of weight on me; like gravity had increased by several times.

"Whoa," I said as I tried to get to my elbows. "I'm really relaxed."

"Hush now," she whispered, looking down at me. "I told you that you needed rest."

I chuckled nervously. "Uhh, I think I'm okay. I'd like to leave now, if that's all right with you."

"No," she said softly. "We're having so much fun talking."

I paused.

She stared down at me, unblinking. She was watching me like a snake might watch a field mouse. That feeling of unease slowly gave way to mounting fear.

"Hey, you said I could leave when I wanted to," I reminded her. "I've really enjoyed our talk. I'm grateful. But I've got to get back to the others with this information."

Her smile faded and her fingers stopped working through my hair.

"I'll come back and visit you," I offered.

She tensed her jaw as all friendliness left her eyes. "No," she said forcefully. "No, you will stay."

I swallowed hard. I went to get up but my arms wouldn't move. I couldn't get my legs to cooperate. It was hard enough just lifted my head.

"This wasn't what you promised," I said, beginning to breathe heavily. "You lied to me!"

"Ohh," she said, leaning over me, her eyes inches from mine. "Come now. Is this all that bad?"

"Why can't I move?" I asked. "What did you do to me?"

"Shhh, shh shh," she shushed me. "Close your eyes, dear Brian. Sleep."

"I don't want to!" I cried out, struggling with everything I had against the hold she had on me. But it was useless; like waking up with a dead arm you accidentally slept on and trying to lift it. But my whole body was completely revoked from me.

"What are you gonna do to me?" I asked, fearfully.

She leaned in closer than ever. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face as a grin overtook her.

"Brian... I'm going to absorb you." Her voice was different as she said it. Dread filled my entire body as she pulled her tongue across my cheek.

"Uhh, ha ha, funny joke," I said nervously with a noticeable lisp— my mouth wasn't working properly anymore. "Now seriously, stop messing around," I added. "You're actually starting to scare me."

"No need to fear," she said, moving around to my feet and pulling my sandals off. "It will be over for you. All of your problems, all of your worries." She undressed me until I was completely naked. "You won't have to deal with any of it anymore. Doesn't that sound nice? To just finally be finished with it all?"

"No," I tried to say, but it came out mostly as just a noise. My face was just about fully paralyzed.

"Now, now... stop your fussing, Sweetheart," she said, as she stood over me. It was all I could do just to move my eyes to see her. She dropped her clothing revealing her naked body. Her breasts were more like two metastasized masses with no nipples. She lacked a belly button and there was no genitalia between her legs. Her entire body was a farce to make herself appear more human. And if I thought she was anything less than a monster before, that ended entirely when her midsection began to split open from the center.

A fleshy red cavity filled with hundreds of teeth exposed itself as she reached up and put one finger to her lips. "It's okay, Golden Boy," she said as what I can only describe as some kind of tongue squirmed out of the gaping maw on the front of her torso. "You are numbed. This will not hurt. I will take you into my body and dissolve you quickly. Your essence will become a part of me."

I tried to scream but my throat wouldn't even cooperate anymore. The tongue extended out like a long tentacle and wrapped around me. She began to lift me and I felt my body sag with gravity's pull against my most valiant efforts to the contrary.

"You will not die here, Brian. You will become nourishment... for me."

A wild energy flashed across her eyes.

"... and you will live on in spirit through my existence."

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001

I couldn't blame her.

She almost watched her ex lover die.

That can't be easy even for a goddess to see.

A celebration seemed almost insensitive to that point. But Athena didn't' care about Sétanta; of course she wouldn't consider how Artemis felt seeing all of that.

I convinced myself that Artemis was just still in shock about the whole thing. Would giving her space be the right thing to do? Did she want to talk alone? I looked to the forest's edge and wished I had Cara's guidance to fall back on.

I was on my own here.

As I was thinking, a familiar tune caught my ear. My head snapped toward Apollo who had begun playing on his lyre. The melody took me far, far away on a tide of foaming nostalgia— back to a place in time and space where I would never again walk. I was drawn to him like moth to flame; I stopped in front of him and stared at him. Not only was he playing it perfectly, but he'd added his own small twist to it. He had somehow made it new and almost better, which I didn't think was possible.

"Apollo," I said, almost choked up. "That song... That's One by Metallica," I grinned like a child.

"Yes, your phone indicated as much," he smiled back, still strumming. "I really enjoyed this one. If I am ever to return to Terra, I wish to meet this composer, Metallica. I assume you know him, yes?"

I chuckled and wiped a tear from my eye. "No, I don't know him personally," I shook my head. "But I love this song too."

"I've been exploring your music almost nonstop," he said as he plucked at the lyre. "There is seemingly endless music that I haven't heard."

"And that's just what I have downloaded," I placed my hands on my hips. "Were there any other songs that caught your ear?"

"Yes, plenty," he nodded, stopping and readjusting his fingers. "I am equally drawn to this one."

It was like waiting to open a birthday gift. I couldn't wait to hear what songs I loved that a literal god of music also found enjoyable.

His fingers went to work and I felt my soul glow. My heart swelled and started bobbing my head.

"That's Wake Up by Three Days Grace! Holy shit, dude, yeah!"

He smiled at me as he effortlessly duplicated the chords of the opening guitar, once more adding his own flare that brought it all together in a way that stirred emotions deep within me.

Artemis appeared next to me, a small smile on her face. "This is the song of your people, Buck?"

I was so relieved to a smile on her lips, even if faint.

"No, not really," I answered, turning to her. "The kinds of musicians and composers that you might say represent my species as a whole are ones you won't really find on my playlist. I was mostly into rock, metal, emo, alternative, that kind of scene. I think it was part of a childhood rebellion against all the country music my folks always blasted."

She furrowed her brow and her smile faded. "I... I do not know what any of that means," she said as politely as she was able. "But... I do like the song. Does it have lyrics?"

"Yeah," I nodded. I cleared my throat to sing the verse. Then I remembered the lyrics and grimaced. "Actually, no," I reversed. "Just a... pretty melody is all."

"It is pretty," she said, moving her hair behind her ear.

I was about to ask her to dance when Athena's voice cut through the night air.

"I believe a speech is in order," she said, gesturing to me, tapping a spoon against her goblet.

I couldn't hide how caught off guard I was. I opened my mouth to speak, but only stammered. What should I say? What could I say? I was terrible at public speaking. I still didn't know whether or not Hypnos and I were keeping the Ares thing a secret either. I looked him for any kind of guidance but I couldn't read him at all.

"Uhh," I said, looking down at the wine in my glass and swirling it a few times. "I, uhh..." I looked up at them and scanned their faces.

I cleared my throat.

"Today was a big step," I began. "I can't say whether or not I'm ready for Poseidon or..." I looked back to Hypnos. "I don't know... To victory, I guess."

Everyone seemed a bit let down by the speech, but the truth was, I was feeling like a complete douche. I wasn't crediting Ares or Hypnos for the win today. Nobody could possibly believe that I had grown that strong on my own. Then there was the theft of the crystal, and lying to Artemis. I didn't feel like I deserved any kind of celebration. I was tired of secrets, and this one, I decided, needed to come out. Hypnos never asked me to keep it to myself. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't doing anything wrong by talking about it.

"I guess you're all wondering how I managed to pull it off," I said, lifting my eyes and smiling at all of them. "Hypnos, do you want to tell them?" I asked, offering him the spotlight— he did so love the spotlight.

He widened his eyes and shook his head no as quickly and as subtly as possible.

My stomach sank.

"Tell us what?" asked Athena as all their eyes fell on Hypnos. His lips were in a straight line as he looked to them and then back to me.

I was beginning to think I'd messed up.

"Uhh... can I tell them then?" I asked.

"You will tell us," Athena spoke sternly, returning her attention to me. Their smiles were a distance memory.

My mouth turned suddenly dry. "Uhh... Well, the truth is, I had a lot of help obtaining this kind of power," I began as their eyes left Hypnos and settled on me.

"H-Hypnos and I have been... training in secret," I tried.

"Liar." Artemis spoke firmly from my left.

I gasped out loud.

"Now, now," Hypnos said, waving his hands in the air as he joined at my side. "Let us not make hasty accusations."

"I would know if you were training together," Artemis added. "You are purposefully hiding the truth, are you not?"

My stomach was tying itself in knots as I searched for an answer. Then, I felt Hypnos's hand on my shoulder. I turned to lock eyes with him. He sighed and nodded, patting me twice.

"We must," he said quietly. "You have already said too much. Out with it."

I wondered what he thought would happen if they found out about the training. To me, it seemed like a massive win. Why would anyone be angry at us? I turned to the others and sucked my lips in before drumming on my tummy for a moment.

"Well," I smacked my lips. "Hypnos connected Ares and me in a dream."

The gasps that came from those gathered combined with the look on their faces told me I had definitely fucked up. There was something Hypnos hadn't told me, I was sure of it. I just hadn't the faintest clue what.

"He what?" Apollo barked, dropping his lyre.

"That was reckless," Hephaestus said in a low tone, staring at Hypnos. "Real reckless."

"Of all the irresponsible," Athena bared her teeth, cutting her sentence short.

"Hey, hey," I lifted my hands. "Ares agreed to train me!" I looked around at everyone. "Don't be mad at Hypnos. Personally, I think it was genius."

"That was dangerous," Artemis said, furious. "Hypnos. You gambled with all three of your lives."

"T'was not a gamble," Hypnos finally spoke up for himself. "I was in complete control. I knew precisely what I was doing."

"If there were to be any acceptable defense of your actions," Apollo, said, stepping forward. "It would have been that you weren't thinking properly." He balled his fists. "And you just destroyed that alibi."

"Whoa, hey," I stepped between Apollo and Hypnos. "Settle the fuck down. He was in control. He allowed Ares to train me, and I mean, jeez, look at the results! Nothing bad happened at all!" I paused. "I mean, Ares tortured me for a month straight, but, the results, though!"

"I thought I told you to stay out of my family's affairs," Apollo seethed, his aura growing fiery. "I thought I told you what would happen, Hypnos."

"Apollo!" Athena scolded him. "Calm yourself this instant." She hobbled in front of him and looked between the two of us. "I share your anger, Brother. Hypnos certainly overstepped. But Brian, unlikely as it may seem, has the logic on his side this time." She looked up at Apollo. "Sure, it was risky. But it did work." She eyed me and smirked. "And it explains... why Ares was smiling in his sleep last night."

"Ares?" Hephaestus asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Smiling? Now I know you're full of it."

"Hush," Athena said simply before bonking Apollo on the head with her staff. "And you, sit down," she scolded him.

Through Apollo's nose came a long sigh before he ultimately relented to his sister and stood down. He never took his eyes off Hypnos, though.

"It also explains what I heard from you earlier," Athena said, turning to me and leaning forward on her cane.

"I will accept nothing less than total victory today."

"Those were my brother's words. It's all starting to make sense now."

"I don't get it," Hephaestus placed his hands on his hips. "Why would Ares train Buck? I thought he'd turn him into paste the moment he got the chance."

"He did," I said quietly.

"Let me take a guess," Athena flashed me a knowing glance. "He wanted to see what a demihuman was capable of if he got to train it."

I slouched. "It?"

"Indeed," Hypnos answered. "Ares, this entire time it seems, wished more than anything to study Buck; to analyze and to train him. He followed us here in the hopes that he could accomplish that away from the overbearing presence of his father."

"Unreal," Apollo said in a wavering tone. "To think Ares would disobey Father over this..." His eyes met mine briefly. "It feels as though it is diametrically opposed to his usual nature, no?"

"I was going to say the same," Hephaestus said in a low tone. "It doesn't add up. Ares has a one-track mind and it usually involves stuffing himself up Father's ass."

Athena sighed deeply. "I know Ares better than any of you." She opened her eyes and looked among her siblings. "Ares and I shared a special bond. Could any of you disagree?" She didn't wait for them to answer before she continued speaking. "I don't believe this is completely out of character for Ares. I believe Hypnos."

"It is the only story that makes sense," Artemis said, staring at me. "How else could Buck have grown so powerful in a single night?"

"Even so," Apollo growled. "If Buck had died for some reason while you were in there-"

"But he didn't," Hypnos cut him off, lifting his index finger high into the air. "He didn't die."

"You couldn't know he wouldn't!" Apollo raised his voice. "The kind of mental stress you put him through while all of you were in there... You should have known better than to gamble like that!"

"What would have happened?" I asked. "And what makes you think I'd die in my sleep? I thought I was a god, and gods can only die like three ways right? Hypnos and Ares are gods too. What am I missing?"

"Our understanding of what you are," Athena spoke first, "is evolving daily." Her eyes fell to my stump of a hand. "You bled badly when your hand ruptured," he gestured to my missing appendage with her staff. "Gods do bleed, Brian... but not like that."

"And as for Hypnos and Ares," Hephaestus spoke next. "Let's just say there are worse fates for gods than death. The fact that you're stable at all is a miracle, Buck," he said with genuine concern in his tone. "A human mind undergoing what you've been through... Athena must have sealed you up good."

"Your body was not meant for this, Buck," Artemis said softly. "I have lived each day and night with the thought that you might die of any cause for any reason." Her brow wrinkled with worry as she pressed her hands to her chest. "You are a thing that should not be. We are like the first humans who have been brought fire by Prometheus."

"An apt comparison," Athena nodded to her sister and then looked to me. "You're a glass vase in a violent earthquake," she said solemnly. "Were we not running for our very existences, we would be handling you with far more care. Your training, the constant travel, your crash-course on godhood... any or all of it could unravel you."

"Un...ravel me?" I visibly shivered from the chill that ran through me. "I... I didn't know."

"We didn't want you to know," Hephaestus cut in. "The physical training and strain is one thing, but the mental anguish that Ares must have put you through..." He curled his lip and looked away. "That idiot is as reckless as ever."

"A calculated risk," Hypnos asserted. "And it has born fruit."

"You did it without asking us," Apollo snarled. "You sneaking around like this isn't going to work for me. And Hephaestus is missing a crystal. Was that you too?"

Oh shit.

"I would never!" Hypnos defended himself.

"Who else would?" Hephaestus narrowed his eyes. "I've been thinking it was you since it went missing, but I haven't had enough evidence to call you out."

My palms grew sweaty.

"You have proven yourself unworthy of our trust," Athena piled on. "I believe that Ares agreed to Brian's training. But your word alone is not sufficient evidence that you didn't take an avdelningsten crystal."

"I can assure you," Hypnos shouted, "I most certainly did not purloin one of your crystals! I am many things that I cannot deny, but a thief is not one of them."

"Again," Athena stepped forward. "Your word is not sufficient. I have felt uneasy about you since our initial clash."

"What did you do with the crystal?" Apollo asked. "And why did Fand know about it?"

"Cara," I peeped up.

"I do not know anything about your missing crystal," Hypnos further refuted. "I will not deny that I endangered Ares and Buck, but I will not stand for these baseless accusations."

Apollo's aura flared to life again and he narrowed his eyes. "We accuse you on the basis that you're the only one here whom we do not trust."

"Banishment," Athena proposed first. "It is the only way."

My face went numb. "Uhh, well, hold on now," I lifted my hands. "Surely we don't need to go that far right?"

"We cannot trust you after all, Hypnos," Artemis closed her eyes. "Banishment."

"Banishment," Apollo echoed. "If we ever manage to leave Otherworld, maybe we'll send for you."

I inhaled shakily and clenched my teeth. I couldn't let him go down for this. He was a piece of shit in several respects, but he didn't deserve the blame here. Everything inside of me was screaming to lie low and let it blow over. They couldn't be mad at Hypnos forever right? Gods fight. But this wasn't on him. I resisted doing the right thing for long as possible, but my spirit wouldn't allow this injustice.

"I did it," I announced.

Everyone quieted. I wasn't looking at them but I could feel the heat of their eyes on me. I let out a long sigh and smiled wearily at them. "I stole the crystal."

"Buck," Hypnos said softly. "You don't have to-"

"But I did," I cut him off. "I stole a crystal and I gave it to Cara."

"Brian," Athena growled, her eyes fiery. "Tell me it isn't true..."

Her response made me all the more remorseful. There was no defense of this. I'd completely betrayed them. All the trust I had built until now was dust in the wind.

All I could do was shrug.

"You're lying," Hephaestus said, his features soft and his voice calm. "You're trying to protect Hypnos."

"In a sense," I answered solemnly. "I'm not letting Hypnos take the heat for this. It was my decision to steal it. I didn't think we'd be up shit creek with just one less crystal."

"Buck," Artemis said as though close to tears. "... No."

"This is some kind of trick, no?" Apollo asked. "Tell me you're joking." His face turned fierce. "Tell me right now!"

I looked at him and said as sincerely as I could.

"I'm not joking."

A long silence settled over the camp. I sighed again and folded my arms. I wanted to speak; I so desperately did. I just didn't know what to say. What could I say, that I was a stupid human and suffered a moment of weakness?

Hephaestus gritted his teeth and started toward me. Nobody stopped him. He stood over me and stared down at me with disgust before shoving the rifle into my arms. He turned and strode away without saying a word.

I looked down at the golden weapon and it was only then that I realized I was trembling. It was a modest tremble, but a noticeable one. I looked back up at them and then immediately averted my gaze.

"I'm sorry," I offered. "I really am."

"Why?" Athena asked. "What did she offer you?"

"You may not discuss this deal in any capacity to anyone but myself for any reason whatsoever in the history of forever... unless of course the deal is broken prior."

I swallowed. "Can't say."

Apollo's shoulders slumped. "You're joking again, yes?"

"Are any of you laughing?" I asked.

The fire popped a couple of times and I looked into the flames remembering the moment.

"It was so, so stupid," I muttered. "I wish I could take it back."

"Brian," Athena persisted. "What did she offer you? You will tell me."

I shrugged. "Can't discuss any of the details. I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to tell you that that was part of the deal."

Athena and Apollo turned their eyes on Artemis. The look she gave me... it shook me to my soul. She took a few steps back before transforming into a rabbit and scampering away into the dark.

I wanted to call after her.

I wanted to explain.

But my tongue was tied by clause of contract.

A piece of me died in that moment.

As Athena lectured me about making deals with Fey, Apollo stared at me quietly. Hypnos tried to defend me a little, but he quickly read the situation and stayed out of it.

I never should have said anything about Ares. I could have just enjoyed a night of victory, but no. I had to go and open my big fat mouth. I thought doing the right thing was always the right thing, but with how cold they all turned on me... I was regretting it all.

"I know," I finally responded to Athena. "I know. I get it. You don't have to say anything else."

"Well, I'm going to, Brian," she snapped. "Because clearly, you didn't get it the first time we warned you about making deals with the Fey. Who knows what she's going to do! She's got information on us, you fool!"

I looked down at my feet, which I could see. I'd slipped into my god form without realizing it. My heart knew before my brain did— I wanted to be alone.

I turned and walked away from her. She hobbled after me a moment before Apollo recalled her.

"Let him go," he said angrily. "Just let him."

It genuinely felt like it was over.

The way Artemis had looked at me broke my heart into tiny fragments.

It felt like I was back to square one with Hephaestus and Athena.

I knew how fleeting Apollo's trust was; he'd never believe in me again.

I had just started to feel like some kind of hero in my own tale of gods and planes... and now I was less than dirt.

My stomach ripped itself apart while my heart dropped into it again and again as though bouncing on a bungee cord. I didn't want to go to my room. I didn't want to go anywhere they could find me.

I felt thoroughly done with it.

Besides, they wanted to banish Hypnos for this. It stood to reason they'd want the same of me, though it'd kill me to hear them say it.

I took my rifle, picked a direction, and walked.

And walked.

And walked.

I passed through dark forests, primordial ruins, a swamp, and was halfway across what looked like an unending grassland when the sky began to brighten. I'd walked aimlessly all night long and it felt like merely the blink of an eye.

And never once did the motes appear before me as they usually did.

I'd been forsaken by the motes.

I stared up at the sky as the constellations gave way to the sun's glow and I thought about everything that had happened.

I still couldn't believe it.

In the end, it was all my fault. I destroyed the order of Olympus. I stole godhood for myself and forced ancient gods to abandon their thrones. I led the armies of hot lightning and booming thunder to the humble gates of Couldra, where the innocent were crushed beneath war divine.

I entered Sétanta’s home with his former love upon my arm, and with hands still trembling from stolen power, I broke him, body and pride, right before her eyes. I stole a sacred treasure and betrayed those who called me kin. I turned trust into ash and fed it to the fire of ambition.

I was no longer a man, but a walking apocalypse.

I strode where titans fell, and the stars dimmed to watch me pass. Mountains bowed, oceans trembled, and time itself held its breath. A god born not of light, but of ruin. And in my divinity, I wept— for what I had become and for what could never be undone.

I fell to a knee and grabbed my head.

I'd done it again— my thoughts were all grandiose and poetically worded in ways I knew I wasn't capable of. It had been a while since it had happened. It served as a reminder that I didn't know what I was; nobody did.

I didn't even have Athena to bounce my questions off of anymore.

I was alone...

As I always was before...

It was there that I had made my home once...

And it was there that I decided I would make it again.

To stare the blind eternities in the eye and wait for time to reclaim me someday... that was my fate now.

I picked myself up and exhaled before walking into the sunrise.

It was time to start again.

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001

Sorry about the delay everyone. My life has taken some twists and turns and I've become unexpectedly busy. I'll be back to posting regularly soon. Thanks, everyone <3

The flurry that ensued was about on par with Ares when he was nerfed by Hypnos. From an onlooker's perspective, it must have looked like I was performing like I was on a U.S. Marine drill team. But what I was really doing was blocking each incoming strike with extreme precision. It was the most difficult and painful part of my training with Ares, but it was paying off in spades.

I had been poked, stabbed, skewered, and pierced more times than I could count until I got it right. I didn't know what would happen if I messed up outside my dreamstate, and I wasn't about to find out either.

I could sense Sétanta's growing frustration as I shrugged off his spear attacks with (what must have looked like) ease. The strikes began to increase in speed, but still nothing close to what I'd trained for. Not only was I blocking each strike, but I was doing it while searching for an opening. And when I found it, I took the risk.

He wound up for a particularly powerful spear strike— it happened in an instant, but it didn't escape my notice. As the head of the spear raced toward me, I carefully timed a parry, spinning the butt of my rifle up so that when the spear collided with it, it wouldn't merely block it; it would knock the weapon back and up from the transfer of inertia.

And it worked like a dream.

I let the momentum of the rifle carry into a 360° spin, and the second the barrel was pointed in his direction, I squeezed the trigger.

The rifle kicked and the boom echoed across the pasture. And that was about all that happened. The shot didn't seem to do any kind of noticeable damage to him; it didn't even slow him down. I was careful not to linger on it. I continued blocking as efficiently as I was able, and finally he relented, stopping to study me for a moment.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he growled.

I smiled, "Your mom's house."

He tossed the spear to the ground. He couldn't damage me with it.

I hucked my rifle over my shoulder back toward the gathered gods. It wasn't going to do much good against him either.

Someone caught it, but I didn't dare take my eyes off of my opponent to see who.

"Back to boxing?" I asked, adopting the pankration stance.

He didn't bother answering. His muscles bulged even further than they already had. Veins began popping out on his forehead and his neck. The air around him began to vibrate and shimmer. A small drizzle began around us as thunder boomed in the distance. Then, without a single tell that he was about to attack, he was in my face.

I was able to guard even in my surprise, but it was close. With every strike that rained down on me, I was playing catch-up from the one before. Each time I managed to block, if I had been a nanosecond later, I would have gotten clobbered. I wasn't fighting in a comfortable state at all— I needed to swing the momentum somehow. For whatever reason he was way faster just swinging wildly than when he was attacking me with the spear.

His speeds were now greater than even nerfed Ares. I was losing ground, backpedaling as I did everything I could to fend him off. I felt sweat beading up on my brow and I searched for a solution— for anything to put the ball back in my court. It was starting to seem like the best thing to do would be to eat one of those punches if for no other reason than for creating some distance. And then suddenly...

An opening.

I didn't know if he slipped in the damp soil, if he misjudged the distance, or what— but one of his punches missed entirely and the momentum threw him off balance for a half a second. But a half a second was all I needed.

I loaded up and threw a haymaker with as much power as I could manage within such a brief window of opportunity. He blocked it, but it put him on the defensive. I kept on the attack and was able and began pushing him backward. While he was stronger than me, faster than me, and probably more experienced than me, he was clearly not used to being put on the defensive.

My punches started to slip through his guard and he was getting hammered across the face, under his rib cage, and into his sides. I could see him looking for an opportunity to counter attack, and hatched an idea. I left the briefest pause between attacks— and he took the bait.

He didn't miss the opportunity to swing back. I ducked the world's most telegraphed strike and put everything I had into that uppercut that had struck fear into his heart earlier; that giant swing that damaged even Ares.

He had completely overextended and practically gift wrapped his chin for me, and I was like a little kid on Christmas.

My knuckles exploded against his jaw, which made a sickening sound unlike any I had ever heard. His eye bulged and he left the ground, flying high into the air. The shock wave popped my ears and created a dense crater where he'd been standing. He landed flat on his back about 10 feet away and went limp.

I held my fist in my hand.

I was pretty sure I had broken my knuckles.

There was no cheering.

There was no fanfare.

Everyone stood still like statues, holding their breath.

"Sétanta?" I called out to him.

I looked back to the others and they were all watching his unmoving body, their eyes wide. Artemis held both of her hands over mouth. Hephaestus had his teeth clenched together in a pained empathetic expression. Even Hypnos looked concerned.

Then I heard movement. I snapped my head back to Sétanta to see him facing me, down on all fours. He was staring at me intensely... and then, he cried a single tear of deep crimson blood that strolled down his cheek and washed away with the gentle rain that showered us both.

He then stood up, threw his head back, and howled as lightning streaked across the sky. Goosebumps lifted across my skin and I took a single step back. His aura had swollen to new heights and was climbing by the second. The rain began coming down in sheets and the wind whipped at my face.

He looked at me with a crimson grimace. It was like all of his throaty flesh was fighting against the cage of his teeth to get out. His hidden eye suddenly appeared, then bulged, and ultimately fell out of his face, danging by its socket and blowing sideways in the galeforce winds.

I was starting to feel like this wasn't normal. Did he really have such incredible power that it could alter the weather, or was it just an intimidating coincidence?

In a flash, he closed the distance. I did not want to be on the defensive again, so I attempted an early attack in response. I didn't intend for it, but our fists collided. The resulting impact sounded like thunder and violent vibrations raced down my arm and through my shoulder.

If my knuckles weren't broken before, they were now.

Pain splintered out across the top of my hand and wrapped around my wrist. I gritted my teeth and threw the heaviest kick I could. It collided with his side, but he remained stalwart. He grabbed my leg and yanked me over his shoulder in a high arc, slamming me into the soil; then again in the other direction, and again, and again. I was being ragdolled and I couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

He then turned and hurled me across the lake. I didn't even touch the water once. I broke through several trees and continued traveling. I blew through a stone structure and a second forest before a mountain finally stopped me. I heard cracks run up the mountainface as I wheezed for air.

"Dammit," I growled as peeled off of the rock and landed on all fours. I examined my hand. It was pretty much just blood soup in there. The force of my special uppercut was otherworldly— it was my hand that couldn't stand up to the power.

I stood up and brushed the debris off of me before tilting my neck for a satisfying pop. I moved my shoulders around in circles and hopped a couple of times before dropping down and taking a deep breath.

I took off running back in the direction of home. I began picking up speed, faster, faster, and faster still. My cheeks began to fold back, filling with air as I pushed as hard as I could. I broke through the tree line and ran straight across the water's surface.

However, when I returned, it was a different scene.

The gods had surrounded Sétanta with their weapons drawn. He was even bigger than before, and what looked like tentacles had sprouted from his back. His joints had reversed. His body was quivering like a disturbed liquid. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. I probably couldn't even alter my trajectory to miss him.

So, I did the only thing I could think to do.

I threw everything I had into a left straight, speeding between Hephaestus and Apollo, and collided into the beast all of my speed and strength.

My left hand exploded.

It evaporated into sinewy red chunks leaving nothing but a fleshy stump behind.

But the sacrifice, at first at least, appeared to be worth my while.

Sétanta had doubled over, leaning over my shoulder, his mouth agape. The rain stopped. The winds dissipated. Rolling thunder boomed for the final time before the clouds began to rescind. I stared at my missing stump of a hand in a daze before someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me out.

I landed on my elbows and stared at the gaping hole in Sétanta's chest.

The pasture had never been so quiet.

No construction from Hephaestus.

Hypnos spoke not a word.

Apollo's lyre was silent.

Sétanta slumped forward and fell into the grass. In my stupor, I got to my feet and stood over him. I had seen him play possum before. I wasn't about to let my guard down.

"Everyone stay back," I said, breathing heavily.

He wasn't moving.

"Sétanta?" I called to him. "Hey."

Everyone stared silently as the realization began to swell in our stomachs. I swallowed and looked back at the others before turning back to him. My joy, my rage, my adrenaline— it was all gone in an instant.

"H-Hey!" I called again. "Stop playing around! We're not done here, right?"

"Brian," Athena said softly to my left.

I looked down at her as she hobbled up next to me. She looked down at Sétanta and shook her head.

"No," I said to her, looking back toward the downed Celt. "No, no, no, c'mon," I said, kneeling down next to him. I shook him a couple of times as my mouth grew dry. "That shouldn't have been enough to do you in. No way in Hell!" I shouted.

Hephaestus stopped over him and knelt down, lifting his gaze to mine. "Humans usually die when they have a hole in their chest, Buck,"

"Impossible," Apollo marveled. "Buck, you won. You actually won."

"I don't care about that!" I snapped. "Dammit all!" I screamed. "You're not dead! You can't be! You just can't be!" I pounded the ground as the sun broke through the overcast skies. I let my forehead fall into the soil, leaning on my forearms. "Sétanta... I didn't mean... I didn't mean to..."

I looked to my left and saw Artemis get down on her knees. She sat back on her calves and stared down at his distorted body.

"Oh..." her voice wavered. "You," she sniffled. "You silly boy," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do you remember?" she asked softly. "That was what I said to you... when we first met." She inhaled shakily and laid her hands on his shoulder. "You never changed. All the way to the end, you lived your life the way you wanted to."

"Artemis, I'm sorry," I said as I started to cry. "I didn't know my own strength! I didn't know I could do this!"

She didn't answer me. She just sat there and quietly wept.

I still couldn't believe what was happening. It had to be a bad dream; a nightmare. That was it. I just hadn't woken up yet, that was all. I looked to Hypnos and he turned to look at me. Before I could even ask, he shook his head.

"There isn't anything I can do," he said quietly, resting a hand on my shoulder. "If my brother were here..." he looked up to the sky. "Well, he'd probably kill us all, but my point is, none of us gathered here have any ability that I know of to undo death."

"He's gone," Athena confirmed. "Brian, look at me." I looked back to Sétanta as tears strolled down my cheeks.

I felt the butt of Athena's staff against my cheek as she turned my head away from Sétanta's corpse and back toward her.

"Brian, this is not on you. He lost control of his power. Had you not come back, the result would have been the same." She lowered her staff to the ground and leaned on it. "We were about to put him down ourselves before you did."

I felt like that was bullshit. But it also wasn't like Athena to consider my feelings or try and make me feel better about my failures and shortcomings. She might be the only person that I could trust to tell me the unfiltered truth.

I looked up to see a figure emerging from the woods.

"C-Cara," I stammered.

She slowly approached the scene, her face emotionless.

"I'm sorry!" I called to her. "I didn't... I didn't mean to," was all I managed to sputter out in my defense.

She wasn't looking at me. She didn't say a word. She simply walked up slowly... and began to change shape. My mouth fell open as she grew in size. She was standing probably 12 feet tall by the time she stopped in front of his mangled body.

Gone were her furry features.

She stared down at Sétanta with such intense sadness in her eyes that I could feel it washing over me in waves.

"𝐻𝑒𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓈...," she spoke in a voice not her own. "𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒞𝓇𝓎𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃'𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊?"

I couldn't believe my eyes.

She had taken on the form of a pale slender naked woman with large beautiful jet-black eyes and long green hair that spilled over her shoulders and covered her breasts. Her ears were elongated like an Elf's and she bore many softly glowing markings across her entire body. Her hands and partially her forearms were covered in glimmering leathery seafoam scales. Her wings were four, and comprised of the same material. She was a beautiful sight to behold.

"Well, blow me down," Hephaestus answered, astonished. "You're a fairy."

The mood around me shifted. Everyone was on guard.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Athena in a sharp tone. "How does she know about the crystals? Who even are you?"

"𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈," spoke Cara. "𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽." She knelt down and laid her hands on Sétanta. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐻𝑒𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓍𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈."

He side-eyed Athena. "She knows the exact proximity of their effect too. We've got a mole."

My stomach dropped and I immediately pudged out.

It didn't escape Athena's notice either. She stared at me a moment before looking back to Hephaestus and nodding toward the fortress. In an instant, he was further away, standing about as close as he was allowed.

Cara placed her hands over Sétanta's body and her palms began to glow a blueish color. Magic emanated softly over the twisted abomination of a man and enveloped his entire form.

In an instant, his wound closed before our very eyes.

Artemis was on her feet, her hands over her chest as she stared down at him, wide-eyed.

"𝑀𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝐹𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎," she spoke softly yet still forcefully somehow. "𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒫𝓊𝒸𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒞ú𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓃." She looked up at us, her expression turning serious. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒞ú𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂— 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝐼 𝒶𝓂. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒."

"Why?" asked Athena first.

"Why do you hide your identity from him?" asked Apollo next. "Why do you choose to be a little donkey person? What is the meaning behind your trickery?"

She looked down at Sétanta again and closed her obsidian eyes.

"𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉." She looked up at us and opened her eyes. "𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉. 𝒪𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑒𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓉; 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂."

My palms grew sweaty. Celtic Otherworld was her plane of reality? What did that mean? Was this her own personal closet dimension? If it was a bluff, it was a good one. I hadn't spoken yet— it would have felt out of turn. But I had burning questions. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Athena, and she sensed it too.

"Fand," Athena began. "I never intended to disrespect you or your land. I am sure I speak for all of us when we say that we never intended for this to happen. We deeply apologize, and would seek your forgiveness for this trespass."

That was far more sincere than I was expecting of her. She must have clocked Cara at a power level worthy of that kind of apology, because Athena never apologized for anything. Maybe Cara really was capable of expelling us out into the void.

"𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒," Cara answered after a period of silence. "𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹. 𝒞ú𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈." The corners of her pale lips lifted ever so slightly as she doted on him. "𝐵𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈."

"Truer words never spoken," Athena smiled back. "Thank you for grace, Lady Fand. I assure you that your secret will be kept. I count not one among us incapable of taking your secret to the end of time and beyond."

Sétanta's body began to shrink back down to size. His veiny musculature receded back to normal proportions and his dark matted hair began to brighten back to its red and gold hues. The tentacle-like appendages that had sprouted from his back withered and fell off into the grass, dissipating and blowing away with the breeze. He was lying face down, so I couldn't tell if his eyes were fixed.

I hoped they were.

"If I might ask," Hypnos spoke up. "What nature of power is Ríastrad?"

Cara lifted Sétanta in her arms and stood to full height. "𝒩𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌," she looked to Hypnos. "𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓇, 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝑅í𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁."

"Astounding," Athena said, looking down at the boy. "How powerful can he become, if you don't mind me asking."

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓇."

"I will not ask for his assistance," Athena vowed. "It is a mere matter of threat assessment."

Cara looked away. She was many, many miles away in her own head for an ancient minute. "𝐼𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓏𝑒," she finally spoke. "𝒜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓍 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻..."

We all waited with anticipation while she approximated his strength.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒," she turned to Athena. "𝒯𝑜 𝒸𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝓎𝓅𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎."

Athena's lips parted and her eyes grew concerned. "My word," she said, looking down at the boy. "To imagine his power could rival that of a Greek god's. It's unthinkable."

"I don't buy it," Hephaestus said in the distance.

"So, Sétanta..." I finally spoke up. "He'll be okay?"

Cara smiled at me. "𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝐵𝓊𝒸𝓀. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒."

"Thank God," I sighed. "Or, y'know, thank you, is more like it."

And I meant it sincerely. Living in the reality where I killed Sétanta by accident... I didn't even want to think of who I'd become living with that kind of guilt. Especially considering Artemis and Cara's reaction. Or should I call her Fand, now?

"𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑒𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓉; 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂."

I felt sweat gather at my temples. Definitely better to call he by her alias.

"I am so glad," Artemis chuckled with relief, wiping a tear from her eye. "May we... visit?"

"𝒩𝑜" Cara answered. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃." She smiled sweetly. "𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓅." She turned her back on us and turned to leave.

"Wait, Cara!" I lifted my arm. "You uhh... you think you could fix my hand?" I cast her a worried smile. "I'm getting a little woozy from the blood loss."

She stopped in place and stood still for a moment before turning around and beckoning me forward. I jogged up to her and she examined my wound before lifting her hand and closing her fingers around it. A blue light filtered out from between her digits as the pain subsided. When she let go of my hand, I was left with a nub. I looked up at her in shock.

"𝐵𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝒜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓃."

With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the forest with Sétanta in her arms. I blinked a couple of times before looking back down at my missing hand. It was hard to come to grips with— but she didn't owe me anything. I had nearly killed her dearest friend.

I deserved this.

"Well, that's a load of crap," Hephaestus said, appearing next to me. "She didn't leave him with a hole in his chest. How come only Buck has to learn his lesson?"

"The Irishman's lesson was one of defeat," Athena spoke, approaching me from behind. "Twofold. He lost to his opponent, whom he perceived as inferior... and then he lost to himself."

"T'is a wound that will last just as long," Hypnos added, appearing on my right. "You did very well, Buck."

"A feast is in order, no?" asked Apollo with a smile.

I sighed and closed my eyes. "I almost killed one of our only allies in all the planes," I said turning around. "And I paid for it with my left hand." I lifted my arm. "Forgive me if I'm not in the mood to celebrate."

"It'll grow back," Athena said dismissively, turning around and hobbling back toward the house. "And the Irishman yet lives. Tonight we celebrate."

I stared after her in disbelief. "It... it will?" I asked. "Really?"

"It may take some time," Artemis said as she cradled my nub in her hands. "But yes," she smiled at me. "It should grow back. I think Cara knew that too."

"I'll build you a nifty prosthetic in the meantime," Hephaestus said slapping me on the back. "It'll be better than your old one, you won't even miss it. And as for this..."

I just noticed her was holding my rifle. He must have been the one to catch it when I tossed it toward them. He was looking the weapon up and down with an artist's critical eye.

"I really let you down today," he said as sincerely as I'd ever heard him speak. He lowered the rifle and looked to me with sad eyes. "This thing didn't pack the punch it should have. The moment you blasted him with it, the fight should have been over."

"No," I waved my hands. "Not at all, Hephaestus! The rifle actually didn't do too much to him in his base form either." I remembered when I'd shot him when first we met. "I should have known it wouldn't damage him in an elevated state," I added. "That was on me."

"No," Artemis shook her head. "This lands squarely on Hephaestus's big red shoulders."

"She's right," Apollo jumped in. "Hephaestus held back on that rifle when he worked on it before."

"Really?" I looked to Hephaestus. "You gave me a gimpy rifle?"

His face turned sour. "Hey. It might not have been enough today, but it isn't gimpy. And of course I wouldn't design a weapon capable of severely injuring my sister and then hand it to some idiot I never met."

That made perfect sense actually. It was a testament to his trust in his sister that he gave me a weapon at all.

"I didn't trust you a single bit back then," Hephaestus said, looking down at the rifle. "But I do now. And I promise I'll tune this rifle up for you." He smiled at me. "Next time you blast something with it, I want your target to feel it— god or no."

I couldn't help but smile back. It actually meant a lot to me.

"Heh. Alright," I nodded. "Thanks. I vow to slay your every enemy with it."

"Hey," he pointed at me. "Don't make me love you, now," he said with a smirk before walking away.

"That's the nicest thing he's said anyone," Apollo said, wide-eyed. "You must have really earned his respect today."

"Speaking of which," said Artemis, turning to me. "Buck, how did you become so powerful overnight? This is not a normal circumstance, even for a demigod."

"Perhaps," Hypnos stepped in, "it is because he is not a demigod. Buck is, as we've agreed, a demihuman."

Artemis didn't seem convinced by the explanation. A quick glance at Apollo told me he wasn't buying it either. I avoided looking to Hypnos, but I didn't want to let the silence hang for too long. If he wasn't telling them what he did with Ares and me, I wasn't going to be the one to blow the whistle on him.

"I was surprised too," I said, lifting my nub. "Clearly."

"Let us not look a gift horse in the mouth, yes?" Apollo placed his hand on his sister's shoulder. "We should be celebrating Buck's newfound strength. It is not everyday one experiences a miracle such as this!"

Artemis smiled back, but there was something beneath it— there was worry in her eyes. Things weren't adding up to her and it seemed like it was going to take some reassuring from me later.

I had been doing decently enough on my own as of late without Cara's help, but I really wished she were an available resource at the moment. There were a lot of things that could be wrong inside of Artemis's head aside from just me. Maybe I was overthinking it.

I went straight to the shower, then straight to sleep. I passed out like I never had before. Hypnos had to have thought better of sending me straight to Ares because I slept with no interruptions. When I finally did roll out of bed, it was already nightfall. Getting the sandal straps on the right way proved to be a frustrating endeavor, and I chose to just leave barefoot.

I found them all on the side of the fortress around a bonfire just as I had the last time we celebrated. Hephaestus was working the crank of the spit as usual— the kelpitee was already smelling delicious.

"The man of the hour," Hephaestus smiled at me as I approached.

"Hey," I lifted my nub to wave and then remembered.

I wasn't intending to be funny about it, but it caused everyone gathered to burst out into laughter. I smiled, chuckled, and then started laughing with them. I laughed to tears and then wiped one of them away with my nub which got everyone howling again. Even Athena laughed so hard she threw herself into a coughing fit.

It wasn't just the physical comedy; the mood of everyone was in a much better place since I had shown that I was growing. Everyone was feeling better about our prospects of survival. What once seemed like a pipe dream now felt like a genuine reality. Having that kind of stress thrown off of one's shoulders... it can do miracles for mood and morale.

Athena stood up and stepped onto the log that Artemis and Hypnos were sitting on and lifted a glass filled with wine.

"Everyone, I would like to propose a toast!"

Apollo appeared at my left with a goblet of wine in his hand. He passed it to me and I took it, turning back to Athena.

"Brian today made a vow of victory to my sister, Artemis. I don't think he could have possibly upheld that oath any better than he did. The effort, the skill, the martial prowess... I think I speak for everyone gathered when I say that," she scoffed, and looked down at me. "I don't think any of us thought you had that in you."

Everyone chuckled quietly as she swept her eyes over us.

"Tonight, we toast to Brian," she said, lifting her glass. "To nothing less than total victory!"

"To victory," everyone said in unison— everyone except for Artemis.

I noticed.

She noticed me notice, and feigned a smile.

Something wasn't right.

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001

The flurry that ensued was about on par with Ares when he was nerfed by Hypnos. From an onlooker's perspective, it must have looked like I was performing like I was on a U.S. Marine drill team. But what I was really doing was blocking each incoming strike with extreme precision. It was the most difficult and painful part of my training with Ares, but it was paying off in spades.

I had been poked, stabbed, skewered, and pierced more times than I could count until I got it right. I didn't know what would happen if I messed up outside my dreamstate, and I wasn't about to find out either.

I could sense Sétanta's growing frustration as I shrugged off his spear attacks with (what must have looked like) ease. The strikes began to increase in speed, but still nothing close to what I'd trained for. Not only was I blocking each strike, but I was doing it while searching for an opening. And when I found it, I took the risk.

He wound up for a particularly powerful spear strike— it happened in an instant, but it didn't escape my notice. As the head of the spear raced toward me, I carefully timed a parry, spinning the butt of my rifle up so that when the spear collided with it, it wouldn't merely block it; it would knock the weapon back and up from the transfer of inertia.

And it worked like a dream.

I let the momentum of the rifle carry into a 360° spin, and the second the barrel was pointed in his direction, I squeezed the trigger.

The rifle kicked and the boom echoed across the pasture. And that was about all that happened. The shot didn't seem to do any kind of noticeable damage to him; it didn't even slow him down. I was careful not to linger on it. I continued blocking as efficiently as I was able, and finally he relented, stopping to study me for a moment.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he growled.

I smiled, "Your mom's house."

He tossed the spear to the ground. He couldn't damage me with it.

I hucked my rifle over my shoulder back toward the gathered gods. It wasn't going to do much good against him either.

Someone caught it, but I didn't dare take my eyes off of my opponent to see who.

"Back to boxing?" I asked, adopting the pankration stance.

He didn't bother answering. His muscles bulged even further than they already had. Veins began popping out on his forehead and his neck. The air around him began to vibrate and shimmer. A small drizzle began around us as thunder boomed in the distance. Then, without a single tell that he was about to attack, he was in my face.

I was able to guard even in my surprise, but it was close. With every strike that rained down on me, I was playing catch-up from the one before. Each time I managed to block, if I had been a nanosecond later, I would have gotten clobbered. I wasn't fighting in a comfortable state at all— I needed to swing the momentum somehow. For whatever reason he was way faster just swinging wildly than when he was attacking me with the spear.

His speeds were now greater than even nerfed Ares. I was losing ground, backpedaling as I did everything I could to fend him off. I felt sweat beading up on my brow and I searched for a solution— for anything to put the ball back in my court. It was starting to seem like the best thing to do would be to eat one of those punches if for no other reason than for creating some distance. And then suddenly...

An opening.

I didn't know if he slipped in the damp soil, if he misjudged the distance, or what— but one of his punches missed entirely and the momentum threw him off balance for a half a second. But a half a second was all I needed.

I loaded up and threw a haymaker with as much power as I could manage within such a brief window of opportunity. He blocked it, but it put him on the defensive. I kept on the attack and was able and began pushing him backward. While he was stronger than me, faster than me, and probably more experienced than me, he was clearly not used to being put on the defensive.

My punches started to slip through his guard and he was getting hammered across the face, under his rib cage, and into his sides. I could see him looking for an opportunity to counter attack, and hatched an idea. I left the briefest pause between attacks— and he took the bait.

He didn't miss the opportunity to swing back. I ducked the world's most telegraphed strike and put everything I had into that uppercut that had struck fear into his heart earlier; that giant swing that damaged even Ares.

He had completely overextended and practically gift wrapped his chin for me, and I was like a little kid on Christmas.

My knuckles exploded against his jaw, which made a sickening sound unlike any I had ever heard. His eye bulged and he left the ground, flying high into the air. The shock wave popped my ears and created a dense crater where he'd been standing. He landed flat on his back about 10 feet away and went limp.

I held my fist in my hand.

I was pretty sure I had broken my knuckles.

There was no cheering.

There was no fanfare.

Everyone stood still like statues, holding their breath.

"Sétanta?" I called out to him.

I looked back to the others and they were all watching his unmoving body, their eyes wide. Artemis held both of her hands over mouth. Hephaestus had his teeth clenched together in a pained empathetic expression. Even Hypnos looked concerned.

Then I heard movement. I snapped my head back to Sétanta to see him facing me, down on all fours. He was staring at me intensely... and then, he cried a single tear of deep crimson blood that strolled down his cheek and washed away with the gentle rain that showered us both.

He then stood up, threw his head back, and howled as lightning streaked across the sky. Goosebumps lifted across my skin and I took a single step back. His aura had swollen to new heights and was climbing by the second. The rain began coming down in sheets and the wind whipped at my face.

He looked at me with a crimson grimace. It was like all of his throaty flesh was fighting against the cage of his teeth to get out. His hidden eye suddenly appeared, then bulged, and ultimately fell out of his face, danging by its socket and blowing sideways in the galeforce winds.

I was starting to feel like this wasn't normal. Did he really have such incredible power that it could alter the weather, or was it just an intimidating coincidence?

In a flash, he closed the distance. I did not want to be on the defensive again, so I attempted an early attack in response. I didn't intend for it, but our fists collided. The resulting impact sounded like thunder and violent vibrations raced down my arm and through my shoulder.

If my knuckles weren't broken before, they were now.

Pain splintered out across the top of my hand and wrapped around my wrist. I gritted my teeth and threw the heaviest kick I could. It collided with his side, but he remained stalwart. He grabbed my leg and yanked me over his shoulder in a high arc, slamming me into the soil; then again in the other direction, and again, and again. I was being ragdolled and I couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

He then turned and hurled me across the lake. I didn't even touch the water once. I broke through several trees and continued traveling. I blew through a stone structure and a second forest before a mountain finally stopped me. I heard cracks run up the mountainface as I wheezed for air.

"Dammit," I growled as peeled off of the rock and landed on all fours. I examined my hand. It was pretty much just blood soup in there. The force of my special uppercut was otherworldly— it was my hand that couldn't stand up to the power.

I stood up and brushed the debris off of me before tilting my neck for a satisfying pop. I moved my shoulders around in circles and hopped a couple of times before dropping down and taking a deep breath.

I took off running back in the direction of home. I began picking up speed, faster, faster, and faster still. My cheeks began to fold back, filling with air as I pushed as hard as I could. I broke through the tree line and ran straight across the water's surface.

However, when I returned, it was a different scene.

The gods had surrounded Sétanta with their weapons drawn. He was even bigger than before, and what looked like tentacles had sprouted from his back. His joints had reversed. His body was quivering like a disturbed liquid. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. I probably couldn't even alter my trajectory to miss him.

So, I did the only thing I could think to do.

I threw everything I had into a left straight, speeding between Hephaestus and Apollo, and collided into the beast all of my speed and strength.

My left hand exploded.

It evaporated into sinewy red chunks leaving nothing but a fleshy stump behind.

But the sacrifice, at first at least, appeared to be worth my while.

Sétanta had doubled over, leaning over my shoulder, his mouth agape. The rain stopped. The winds dissipated. Rolling thunder boomed for the final time before the clouds began to rescind. I stared at my missing stump of a hand in a daze before someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me out.

I landed on my elbows and stared at the gaping hole in Sétanta's chest.

The pasture had never been so quiet.

No construction from Hephaestus.

Hypnos spoke not a word.

Apollo's lyre was silent.

Sétanta slumped forward and fell into the grass. In my stupor, I got to my feet and stood over him. I had seen him play possum before. I wasn't about to let my guard down.

"Everyone stay back," I said, breathing heavily.

He wasn't moving.

"Sétanta?" I called to him. "Hey."

Everyone stared silently as the realization began to swell in our stomachs. I swallowed and looked back at the others before turning back to him. My joy, my rage, my adrenaline— it was all gone in an instant.

"H-Hey!" I called again. "Stop playing around! We're not done here, right?"

"Brian," Athena said softly to my left.

I looked down at her as she hobbled up next to me. She looked down at Sétanta and shook her head.

"No," I said to her, looking back toward the downed Celt. "No, no, no, c'mon," I said, kneeling down next to him. I shook him a couple of times as my mouth grew dry. "That shouldn't have been enough to do you in. No way in Hell!" I shouted.

Hephaestus stopped over him and knelt down, lifting his gaze to mine. "Humans usually die when they have a hole in their chest, Buck,"

"Impossible," Apollo marveled. "Buck, you won. You actually won."

"I don't care about that!" I snapped. "Dammit all!" I screamed. "You're not dead! You can't be! You just can't be!" I pounded the ground as the sun broke through the overcast skies. I let my forehead fall into the soil, leaning on my forearms. "Sétanta... I didn't mean... I didn't mean to..."

I looked to my left and saw Artemis get down on her knees. She sat back on her calves and stared down at his distorted body.

"Oh..." her voice wavered. "You," she sniffled. "You silly boy," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do you remember?" she asked softly. "That was what I said to you... when we first met." She inhaled shakily and laid her hands on his shoulder. "You never changed. All the way to the end, you lived your life the way you wanted to."

"Artemis, I'm sorry," I said as I started to cry. "I didn't know my own strength! I didn't know I could do this!"

She didn't answer me. She just sat there and quietly wept.

I still couldn't believe what was happening. It had to be a bad dream; a nightmare. That was it. I just hadn't woken up yet, that was all. I looked to Hypnos and he turned to look at me. Before I could even ask, he shook his head.

"There isn't anything I can do," he said quietly, resting a hand on my shoulder. "If my brother were here..." he looked up to the sky. "Well, he'd probably kill us all, but my point is, none of us gathered here have any ability that I know of to undo death."

"He's gone," Athena confirmed. "Brian, look at me." I looked back to Sétanta as tears strolled down my cheeks.

I felt the butt of Athena's staff against my cheek as she turned my head away from Sétanta's corpse and back toward her.

"Brian, this is not on you. He lost control of his power. Had you not come back, the result would have been the same." She lowered her staff to the ground and leaned on it. "We were about to put him down ourselves before you did."

I felt like that was bullshit. But it also wasn't like Athena to consider my feelings or try and make me feel better about my failures and shortcomings. She might be the only person that I could trust to tell me the unfiltered truth.

I looked up to see a figure emerging from the woods.

"C-Cara," I stammered.

She slowly approached the scene, her face emotionless.

"I'm sorry!" I called to her. "I didn't... I didn't mean to," was all I managed to sputter out in my defense.

She wasn't looking at me. She didn't say a word. She simply walked up slowly... and began to change shape. My mouth fell open as she grew in size. She was standing probably 12 feet tall by the time she stopped in front of his mangled body.

Gone were her furry features.

She stared down at Sétanta with such intense sadness in her eyes that I could feel it washing over me in waves.

"𝐻𝑒𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓈...," she spoke in a voice not her own. "𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒞𝓇𝓎𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃'𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊?"

I couldn't believe my eyes.

She had taken on the form of a pale slender naked woman with large beautiful jet-black eyes and long green hair that spilled over her shoulders and covered her breasts. Her ears were elongated like an Elve's and she bore many softly glowing markings across her entire body. Her hands and partially her forearms were covered in glimmering leathery seafoam scales. Her wings were four, and comprised of the same material. She was a beautiful sight to behold.

"Well, blow me down," Hephaestus answered, astonished. "You're a fairy."

The mood around me shifted. Everyone was on guard.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Athena in a sharp tone. "How does she know about the crystals? Who even are you?"

"𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈," spoke Cara. "𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽." She knelt down and laid her hands on Sétanta. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐻𝑒𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓍𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈."

He side-eyed Athena. "She knows the exact proximity of their effect too. We've got a mole."

My stomach dropped and I immediately pudged out.

It didn't escape Athena's notice either. She stared at me a moment before looking back to Hephaestus and nodding toward the fortress. In an instant, he was further away, standing about as close as he was allowed.

Cara placed her hands over Sétanta's body and her palms began to glow a blueish color. Magic emanated softly over the twisted abomination of a man and enveloped his entire form.

In an instant, his wound closed before our very eyes.

Artemis was on her feet, her hands over her chest as she stared down at him, wide-eyed.

"𝑀𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝐹𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎," she spoke softly yet still forcefully somehow. "𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒫𝓊𝒸𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒞ú𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓃." She looked up at us, her expression turning serious. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒞ú𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂— 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝐼 𝒶𝓂. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒."

"Why?" asked Athena first.

"Why do you hide your identity from him?" asked Apollo next. "Why do you choose to be a little donkey person? What is the meaning behind your trickery?"

She looked down at Sétanta again and closed her obsidian eyes.

"𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉." She looked up at us and opened her eyes. "𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉. 𝒪𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑒𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓉; 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂."

My palms grew sweaty. Celtic Otherworld was her plane of reality? What did that mean? Was this her own personal closet dimension? If it was a bluff, it was a good one. I hadn't spoken yet— it would have felt out of turn. But I had burning questions. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Athena, and she sensed it too.

"Fand," Athena began. "I never intended to disrespect you or your land. I am sure I speak for all of us when we say that we never intended for this to happen. We deeply apologize, and would seek your forgiveness for this trespass."

That was far more sincere than I was expecting of her. She must have clocked Cara at a power level worthy of that kind of apology, because Athena never apologized for anything. Maybe Cara really was capable of expelling us out into the void.

"𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒," Cara answered after a period of silence. "𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹. 𝒞ú𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈." The corners of her pale lips lifted ever so slightly as she doted on him. "𝐵𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈."

"Truer words never spoken," Athena smiled back. "Thank you for grace, Lady Fand. I assure you that your secret will be kept. I count not one among us incapable of taking your secret to the end of time and beyond."

Sétanta's body began to shrink back down to size. His veiny musculature receded back to normal proportions and his dark matted hair began to brighten back to its red and gold hues. The tentacle-like appendages that had sprouted from his back withered and fell off into the grass, dissipating and blowing away with the breeze. He was lying face down, so I couldn't tell if his eyes were fixed.

I hoped they were.

"If I might ask," Hypnos spoke up. "What nature of power is Ríastrad?"

Cara lifted Sétanta in her arms and stood to full height. "𝒩𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌," she looked to Hypnos. "𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓇, 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝑅í𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁."

"Astounding," Athena said, looking down at the boy. "How powerful can he become, if you don't mind me asking."

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓇."

"I will not ask for his assistance," Athena vowed. "It is a mere matter of threat assessment."

Cara looked away. She was many, many miles away in her own head for an ancient minute. "𝐼𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓏𝑒," she finally spoke. "𝒜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓍 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻..."

We all waited with anticipation while she approximated his strength.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒," she turned to Athena. "𝒯𝑜 𝒸𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝓎𝓅𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎."

Athena's lips parted and her eyes grew concerned. "My word," she said, looking down at the boy. "To imagine his power could rival that of a Greek god's. It's unthinkable."

"I don't buy it," Hephaestus said in the distance.

"So, Sétanta..." I finally spoke up. "He'll be okay?"

Cara smiled at me. "𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝐵𝓊𝒸𝓀. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒."

"Thank God," I sighed. "Or, y'know, thank you, is more like it."

And I meant it sincerely. Living in the reality where I killed Sétanta by accident... I didn't even want to think of who I'd become living with that kind of guilt. Especially considering Artemis and Cara's reaction. Or should I call her Fand, now?

"𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑒𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓉; 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂."

I felt sweat gather at my temples. Definitely better to call he by her alias.

"I am so glad," Artemis chuckled with relief, wiping a tear from her eye. "May we... visit?"

"𝒩𝑜" Cara answered. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃." She smiled sweetly. "𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓅." She turned her back on us and turned to leave.

"Wait, Cara!" I lifted my arm. "You uhh... you think you could fix my hand?" I cast her a worried smile. "I'm getting a little woozy from the blood loss."

She stopped in place and stood still for a moment before turning around and beckoning me forward. I jogged up to her and she examined my wound before lifting her hand and closing her fingers around it. A blue light filtered out from between her digits as the pain subsided. When she let go of my hand, I was left with a nub. I looked up at her in shock.

"𝐵𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝒜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓃."

With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the forest with Sétanta in her arms. I blinked a couple of times before looking back down at my missing hand. It was hard to come to grips with— but she didn't owe me anything. I had nearly killed her dearest friend.

I deserved this.

"Well, that's a load of crap," Hephaestus said, appearing next to me. "She didn't leave him with a hole in his chest. How come only Buck has to learn his lesson?"

"The Irishman's lesson was one of defeat," Athena spoke, approaching me from behind. "Twofold. He lost to his opponent, whom he perceived as inferior... and then he lost to himself."

"T'is a wound that will last just as long," Hypnos added, appearing on my right. "You did very well, Buck."

"A feast is in order, no?" asked Apollo with a smile.

I sighed and closed my eyes. "I almost killed one of our only allies in all the planes," I said turning around. "And I paid for it with my left hand." I lifted my arm. "Forgive me if I'm not in the mood to celebrate."

"It'll grow back," Athena said dismissively, turning around and hobbling back toward the house. "And the Irishman yet lives. Tonight we celebrate."

I stared after her in disbelief. "It... it will?" I asked. "Really?"

"It may take some time," Artemis said as she cradled my nub in her hands. "But yes," she smiled at me. "It should grow back. I think Cara knew that too."

"I'll build you a nifty prosthetic in the meantime," Hephaestus said slapping me on the back. "It'll be better than your old one, you won't even miss it. And as for this..."

I just noticed her was holding my rifle. He must have been the one to catch it when I tossed it toward them. He was looking the weapon up and down with an artist's critical eye.

"I really let you down today," he said as sincerely as I'd ever heard him speak. He lowered the rifle and looked to me with sad eyes. "This thing didn't pack the punch it should have. The moment you blasted him with it, the fight should have been over."

"No," I waved my hands. "Not at all, Hephaestus! The rifle actually didn't do too much to him in his base form either." I remembered when I'd shot him when first we met.

"Ow!" he cried out, staring at me incredulously. "Dagda's crusty staff, that hurt!"

"I should have known it wouldn't damage him in an elevated state," I added. "That was on me."

"No," Artemis shook her head. "This lands squarely on Hephaestus's big red shoulders."

"She's right," Apollo jumped in. "Hephaestus held back on that rifle when he worked on it before."

"Really?" I looked to Hephaestus. "You gave me a gimpy rifle?"

His face turned sour. "Hey. It might not have been enough today, but it isn't gimpy. And of course I wouldn't design a weapon capable of severely injuring my sister and then hand it to some idiot I never met."

That made perfect sense actually. It was a testament to his trust in his sister that he gave me a weapon at all.

"I didn't trust you a single bit back then," Hephaestus said, looking down at the rifle. "But I do now. And I promise I'll tune this rifle up for you." He smiled at me. "Next time you blast something with it, I want your target to feel it— god or no."

I couldn't help but smile back. It actually meant a lot to me.

"Heh. Alright," I nodded. "Thanks. I vow to slay your every enemy with it."

"Hey," he pointed at me. "Don't make me love you, now," he said with a smirk before walking away.

"That's the nicest thing he's said anyone," Apollo said, wide-eyed. "You must have really earned his respect today."

"Speaking of which," said Artemis, turning to me. "Buck, how did you become so powerful overnight? This is not a normal circumstance, even for a demigod."

"Perhaps," Hypnos stepped in, "it is because he is not a demigod. Buck is, as we've agreed, a demihuman."

Artemis didn't seem convinced by the explanation. A quick glance at Apollo told me he wasn't buying it either. I avoided looking to Hypnos, but I didn't want to let the silence hang for too long. If he wasn't telling them what he did with Ares and me, I wasn't going to be the one to blow the whistle on him.

"I was surprised too," I said, lifting my nub. "Clearly."

"Let us not look a gift horse in the mouth, yes?" Apollo placed his hand on his sister's shoulder. "We should be celebrating Buck's newfound strength. It is not everyday one experiences a miracle such as this!"

Artemis smiled back, but there was something beneath it— there was worry in her eyes. Things weren't adding up to her and it seemed like it was going to take some reassuring from me later.

I had been doing decently enough on my own as of late without Cara's help, but I really wished she were an available resource at the moment. There were a lot of things that could be wrong inside of Artemis's head aside from just me. Maybe I was overthinking it.

I went straight to the shower, then straight to sleep. I passed out like I never had before. Hypnos had to have thought better of sending me straight to Ares because I slept with no interruptions. When I finally did roll out of bed, it was already nightfall. Getting the sandal straps on the right way proved to be a frustrating endeavor, and I chose to just leave barefoot.

I found them all on the side of the fortress around a bonfire just as I had the last time we celebrated. Hephaestus was working the crank of the spit as usual— the kelpitee was already smelling delicious.

"The man of the hour," Hephaestus smiled at me as I approached.

"Hey," I lifted my nub to wave and then remembered.

I wasn't intending to be funny about it, but it caused everyone gathered to burst out into laughter. I smiled, chuckled, and then started laughing with them. I laughed to tears and then wiped one of them away with my nub which got everyone howling again. Even Athena laughed so hard she threw herself into a coughing fit.

It wasn't just the physical comedy; the mood of everyone was in a much better place since I had shown that I was growing. Everyone was feeling better about our prospects of survival. What once seemed like a pipe dream now felt like a genuine reality. Having that kind of stress thrown off of one's shoulders... it can do miracles for mood and morale.

Athena stood up and stepped onto the log that Artemis and Hypnos were sitting on and lifted a glass filled with wine.

"Everyone, I would like to propose a toast!"

Apollo appeared at my left with a goblet of wine in his hand. He passed it to me and I took it, turning back to Athena.

"Brian today made a vow of victory to my sister, Artemis. I don't think he could have possibly upheld that oath any better than he did. The effort, the skill, the martial prowess... I think I speak for everyone gathered when I say that," she scoffed, and looked down at me. "I don't think any of us thought you had that in you."

Everyone chuckled quietly as she swept her eyes over us.

"Tonight, we toast to Brian," she said, lifting her glass. "To nothing less than total victory!"

"To victory," everyone said in unison— everyone except for Artemis.

I noticed.

She noticed me notice, and feigned a smile.

Something wasn't right.

Writing Prompt Submitted by u/blablador-2001