Queen of Peace

Wendy T. Lyoness

Copyright © 2020 by Wendy T. Lyoness

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Wendy’s Newsletter. Wendy’s Facebook.

Want to discover Furore’s origin?

Furore

A bosomy succubus with horns curled back over her head, and demonic wings stretched out along her sides, sat on a throne in darkness. She snapped her fingers, a beam of light illuminated the throne. In the light, she picked at her nails with a jagged glass knife, grinned, and crossed her hooved legs, shifting the fabric of her silk dress.

“You know what I hate?” She asked with a sultry tone. “My world, its history, and its refusal to change. I could have done better, given the same… options.”

She glanced down at the floor in front of the throne where a body laid in shadows.

“While this self-proclaimed goddess of love… naps. I’ll seize my opportunity to free the mortals of their chains. I predict a rise in women rejecting men for lovelier women.” Her grin widened, grew mischievous. “You see, I like to watch.”

She laughed, snapped her fingers twice, and the light above the throne flickered out alongside the universe’s belief that everything would turn out fine.

The Very First Lover

A mystical forest spanned the kingdom of Algora’s entire eastern border. The forest, known as the Freow Woods, had once belonged to the elves, and to this day, superstitious humans avoided the area because of its surrounding myths.

Yet since the forest lay on the border between two nations, merchants and diplomats were often forced to travel the dirt road which ran under restless canopies of massive, ancient trees. Many who entered the Freow Woods never returned.

Leyla earned her keep as a common soldier in the king’s army, and she’d been assigned as one of fifty to escort diplomat Herielas through the Freow Woods. Herielas had proved crucial in ensuring a prosperous relationship between Algora and Xenthien, the nation beyond the forest.

So far, the journey had been uneventful, but Leyla wouldn’t complain. She’d rather march for hours on end, until she was sweaty and sore and her boots broke, than return home to Algora ever again. If she reached Xenthien, she would disappear and begin a new life.

She hadn’t told anyone about her plan when she’d left, and hadn’t brought much coin with her, but she viewed the life of a deserter and mercenary as preferable to marriage. Her family planned to craft a gilded cage for her to lock her heart in. She’d have none of it.

They marched through the hours of the afternoon, four brown stallions pulled Herielas’ carriage in the middle of the procession. Eventually, evening arrived, night began to fall, and they had to set up camp. Nathaniel, their captain, judged it too dangerous to continue their journey after nightfall.

Once Leyla had helped set up camp in a defensible grove by the side of the endless road, she distanced herself from the rest of the soldiers and found a seat on a mossy rock. She needed a break from them as much as she needed to escape Algora. The soldiers weren’t bad people, but they would be irritated, tired, after the long march. She could take the first watch while everyone rested.

“Would you choose freedom or love?” A soldier in steel armour suddenly sat behind her, as if they’d appeared out of the woods.

At first Leyla thought it was Nathaniel, but while she couldn’t see the soldier’s face because of their helmet, she could tell they were taller than the captain. In fact, the new arrival seemed taller than anyone she’d met.

Leyla ignored the question and pretended she hadn’t heard. To make a point, she pulled her helmet off her head and shook her black, messy hair free. If someone wanted to chat about their troubles, or their homesickness, they could uncover their face too.

“A life free of duty and expectation, or a life with a loving woman by your side. It’s a tough call, isn’t it? Which would you choose?” The soldier asked, and sounded a little too feminine to be asking such a question out in the open.

“I’m no man. Still, obviously, everyone would want the latter. One’s duty is too important to forsake. Love is a blessing.” Leyla gave the answer she would have expected from another soldier of Algora, though in truth, she’d always pick freedom over love.

She reached for the sword at her side to sharpen it, if necessary, and hoped the masked soldier would take the hint and wander off.

“It’s a deal.”

“What?” Leyla turned toward the soldier, but no one sat behind her. No soldier stood closer to her than when she’d first sat down. All she could see around her originated out of the deep calm of the forest. Not a single leaf stirred. Nothing moved. The underbrush lay still.

She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword.

Lucky Second

The elves never abandoned the Freow Woods. They waged war after war against the humans until they could fight no longer. They’d suffered too many casualties, and did not reproduce as fast. In the end, they retreated to their sacred glades.

“Mother!” Syvis rushed through Tsarra, their small village, as fireflies danced around her on the ground.

Fayeth watched her from the wooden walkways, outside of their home, suspended above the huts below. The majority of the village had been built from tree to tree and supplied with light from magical lanterns. A pleasant sight, especially at night, even if she’d gotten too used to it.

Fayeth could remember a time when they’d ruled the entire forest. Some huts attached in a vertical fashion to trees seemed a small comfort compared to the wondrous cities which had fallen prey to humanity.

Syvis scaled the side of the tree, in no time, and pulled herself up with the help of a rope she’d attached to the side of the walkway earlier. Her breathing had grown ragged, despite how she could brag about being one of the fittest elves in Tsarra, so she must have run for a while. Sticks and dirt clung to her ginger hair. Her gaunt, freckled face reminded Fayeth of herself at that age. A notion which became doubly true when Syvis frowned.

“What’s the matter, child?” Fayeth smiled and brushed dirt off her daughter’s leather tunic. “Have you rolled around with a special someone? Do I know their name?”

“What a stupid question!” Syvis began to unwrap something she’d wrapped in cloth. “The humans—“

“You’re right.” Fayeth nodded. “I’ve met every elf in these woods, I’d know their name. Who is it?”

Syvis pouted, revealed the injured crow she’d hid inside the cloth, and turned to enter their house. “The humans are traveling through our home again, uninvited. If you weren’t busy making light of that, I’d ask you to heal this poor bird they attacked for no reason. But I can handle it, don’t you worry.”

Fayeth extended her hand towards Syvis’s back to stop her, to tell her something soothing, but she hesitated long enough for her to daughter to disappear into their home.

“You can,” Fayeth said, unsure if her daughter could hear her or not. “You know the spells as well as I. I’m proud of you for that.”

She was less proud of her daughter’s rebellious streak. She worried there would come a day when Syvis inspired other young elves to go to war against humanity. Once, Fayeth had lead from the frontlines of such battles, but these days she’d become too aware of how they lacked the numbers required to win. The humans bred like rodents.

And if elves did go to war again, they would have to do it when the signs were in their favour. They hadn’t been in ages. An injured crow constituted another bad omen.

Fayeth strolled along the walkways and descended to the ground by one of the spiral staircases. Fireflies pursued her as she strode from hut to hut. Her neighbors greeted her, yet most of them knew her well enough to understand where she headed, and what mood she was in. They didn’t resent her for not stopping to chat.

She walked until she reached the meadow where several of her friends and Syvis’s father rested. Wild roses and lilies grew in abundance in the grass, but no one had placed a single headstone. Graves would have told the humans where to search. If they’d found this area, they would have desecrated their dead.

Fayeth fell to her knees among the flowers, offered a silent prayer, and dug her fingers into the cold earth. Tears welled up in her eyes as memories resurfaced. The stars watched in judgmental silence from the sky.

“I’m sorry. Again, I’m sorry,” she said. “If you wish me to stop this new caravan defiling our lands, I will. Give me a sign.”

A chilly wind tore at her dress and almost knocked her over. Fayeth didn’t fight it. She allowed the wind to have its way with her. When it stopped, she rose to her feet. The dead were not content with inaction.

She spun around to return to the village, but someone waited for her on the path, hidden by shadows. They stood tall, so she assumed they were an elf, yet the closer she got, the more apparent it became that that was not the case. Elves did not have horns. Spirits did.

“Oof, this elf needs sex,” the spirit said and waved a hand in front of her nose.

“Spirit. I have no qualms with you,” Fayeth said. “Don’t disrespect me.”

“Call me Furore,” Furore said and made a dismissive gesture with her hand as she leaned against the trunk of a tree. “And I’m merely stating fact. You need sex. I can smell it on you. You smell like food forgotten for seasons in a pantry. You’ve gone stale. Very stale, indeed.”

“I won’t offer my body to you.”

“Nothing so crude.” Furore laughed. “No, no. You see, I’m filling in for a friend as she rests, similar to how your friends now rest.”

“I’d like to return to my village to rest, yes.” Fayeth wished she’d brought a dagger or a bow. No one had interrupted her mourning in the past, so she’d been unprepared for confrontation.

“Not what I meant. I have a proposition, an alternative, which might be a first step to peace for you,” Furore said. “Humans are simple, straightforward, but elves tend to be difficult to deceive.”

“What is it you want?”

“For you to keep an open heart, an open mind,” Furore said and paused, yet she did not leave. “And entertain the idea of a union between a human and an elf.”

Fayeth must have misheard. “Are you, as the old human saying goes, fucked in the head?”

“I don’t think they say that these days.” Furore chuckled. “You haven’t talked with them in a long while, have you?”

“No.”

“I could ask your daughter instead, if you prefer. Actually, I was about to, but then my poor nose caught your stink.” Furore grinned. Fayeth couldn’t see her face in the shadows, but she did spot the glint of fangs. “Seems Syvis would accept such a deal, for a brief time, in the hopes she could hurt a human, personally.”

“If you swear to leave my daughter alone, forever, I will do whatever you ask.”

“You have my word, darling,” Furore said, raised her right hand in a half-hearted wave, and blinked out of existence.

Fayeth shuddered.

A Slight Snafu

Owls and minks emerged from their dens to hunt as night settled upon the Freow Woods. Furore waited until her chosen lovers had fallen asleep in their respective beds, and then, she swept them away for a romantic rendezvous. By morning, Leyla and Fayeth would think they’d dreamt everything which had happened.

Leyla stirred, water dripped on her forehead. She woke under a silver moon eating the sky. The stars were barely visible at the edges of the moon, yet they twinkled happily.

She sat and discovered a trimmed hedge encircling her on all sides instead of the forest. She couldn’t see any kind of exit, but she did spot a pond with an elegant bench. The water of the pond created a faint music when it flowed into the wind.

Leyla had heard rumours about how real magic existed in the Freow Woods, but she’d never seen the slightest proof before. Perhaps the rumours were true, or perhaps sleeping under the intimidating trees inspired new dreams. Regardless, no moon should be as close to the earth as the one which hung above her.

A woman with a timeless appearance sat up across from Leyla, rubbed her forehead, and groaned. Leyla had seen plenty of attractive nobles in Algora, yet none as striking as the one in front of her now. The confident look in her icy eyes demanded respect, as snowy, wavy hair draped narrow shoulders, and she stared at Leyla in disgust. Even if the woman was not a noble, she must be used to being treated like a queen. How would anyone dare disobey someone with such authority imbued in their features?

Leyla let her eyes stray downwards to see what kind of clothes the woman wore, yet immediately, the queen shouted at her in a foreign language. She couldn’t understand what she’d said, but the context made it clear. No staring. Leyla should treat her with respect or else, face her wrath.

“Apologies.” Leyla stood and noticed how she wasn’t wearing her armour, gambeson, or undershirt.

She wore a silvery shirt and pants weaved out of a transparent fabric. The garments were gorgeous, no doubt, but they bared her athletic physique to the world. Luckily, the world only seemed to consist of two women at present, so her state of undress didn’t bother her as much as it might have with men nearby. Instead, she strode over to the woman on the ground to offer a hand.

Up close, she spotted the long, pointy ears of an elf under snowy locks. If she hadn’t seen those, Leyla might have wondered why the woman stiffened before she accepted her help. She’d never seen an elf in the flesh before. She’d thought they belonged to fairytales.

The elf got up with her help, Leyla caught sight of her clothes. She wore a dress weaved from the same transparent fabric as Leyla’s shirt, and underneath waited a slim stomach and long legs. Now she could definitely be accused of staring.

The elf must have noticed where Leyla’s gaze lingered too because she lashed out as soon as she stood on her own two feet. Leyla expected a slap across her cheek, befit a noble, but she felt hands grip her throat. The elf spat harsh-sounding words in her face.

Leyla still had no idea what she said, and this time the elf said too much at once for her to understand everything from context alone. She did smell her breath, a mixture of strawberries and herbs, and had to do her best to not react too positively to it.

The elf narrowed her eyes, turned her head, and shouted another string of foreign words addressed to someone else. Leyla had assumed they were alone up to that point.

“Thought you knew her language!” A familiar voice responded from somewhere beyond the hedge. “Remember? You insulted me with a human saying?”

The elf refocused her attention on Leyla and spoke with a broken, sensual accent. “You know this Furore?”

Leyla just shook her head, as if she suspected her voice might fail her in the presence of this domineering noble.

“Are you a man or woman?”

“Woman,” Leyla said. Should she feel slighted that the elf couldn’t tell? She may work as a soldier, and have more muscles than dainty maids, but she hadn’t lost the defining characteristics of her gender.

“Fuck,” the elf said, eased her grip on Leyla’s throat, and sighed.

Leyla didn’t know if she should take it as a swear or a suggestion. To be on the safe side, she grabbed the elf’s hands and removed them from her neck.

“No,” she said. “No fucking. I’m a human, you’re an elf. They’d interrogate me for days if they found out I’d talked with you. Besides, we’re women. They’d kill me if they learnt I’d touched you.”

“Oh? They would, would they?” The elf quirked an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and leaned forward, even though they stood right in front of each other. Leyla could smell strawberries on her skin, which lead her to believe it may be perfume, not the elf’s breath. “I’ll kill you if you stare at my breasts, again. Trust me.”

“I didn’t, but I don’t doubt it,” Leyla said.

Neither of them seemed to know why they’d come to this place, had anything further to say to the other, or wanted to lower their guard to a potential enemy. It all resulted in a prolonged moment where they sort of stared at each other.

Leyla focused on the elf’s blue eyes, lest her gaze stray. She’d never held eye contact with a stranger without speaking before. Not this long. She imagined she could see sadness, grief, hate, and disgust in the elf’s eyes, but she’d no idea how true her impression was since she did not know the woman in question. She shouldn’t make assumptions.

A part of her wanted to ask the elf how old she was, to confirm if the fairytales were true or not. A wiser part recognized how it might be perceived as a rude question. The moment made for a strange dream, yet she did not want to wake.

The elf rolled her eyes and broke eye contact first. To Leyla’s surprise, she did look down.

“You’re not worried I’ll kill you if you stare at me?”

“You’re deviant, dirty-minded. I’m old, too old, to have desires.” The elf smirked. “Even for a strong body.”

“You don’t look old, compared to a human,” Leyla said. “We’re—“

The elf swept her legs out from under her with a fast kick, knocked Leyla to the ground, turned on her heel, and walked away. “I’m not like humans.”

Leyla could have watched the elf leave without being noticed, if she’d wanted to, but she had no interest in watching her leave. She kind of wanted her to come back.

Unfair

“You didn’t tell me she’s a woman,” Fayeth said, as she tore herself from the constructed dream world. She could tell the difference between her own subconscious and the succubus’ stage for love.

“I didn’t tell you anything about them,” Furore said and lay down next to her, on top of the covers.

Fayeth realized she hadn’t lain in the same bed as anyone for decades, even though she could recall a couple of elves who’d pursued her romantically. While she had no interest in love, she would have preferred to have either of those elves in her bed over the succubus who reeked of sulfur.

“Now you’ve met Leyla, human, so what you think?” Furore asked and exposed her fangs in a grin. “Isn’t her body magnificent? A muscular work of art? She doesn’t smell anywhere near as stale as you, Fayeth. She smells of innocence. Bit weird for a soldier, but I don’t judge anyone. Not too harshly.”

“Innocence?” Fayeth asked. “Is she…?”

“Mhm, it’s possible.” Furore nodded and moved closer until her grin was almost in Fayeth’s face. “Either that, or she’s been bathing in holy water, regularly. Who knows what sick and twisted customs the Algorians have invented?”

Fayeth turned away from the succubus’ grin and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I don’t think anything of Leyla. She’s nothing, another human. If I have to kill her, I will. I’ll stop their caravan from going east, but it doesn’t have to result in more needless deaths. They can return whence they came.”

“You sure you don’t have a single opinion about her? Not one? Not a teeny, tiny opinion about her figure?” Furore placed a hand on her shoulder. “I saw you checking her out. She did too. You must have done it for a reason? I can tell there’s promise of more trapped in the air. You smell excited.”

“I do not!” Fayeth shoved Furore’s hand off. “I’d never love a human. Ever. You could’ve spent decades getting to know me, picking a suitable partner, and as soon as it became clear they were human, I would have rejected them. You didn’t bother doing that though. You picked someone who’s not even half my age. A girl. I’ll die before I love again, and even then, I’ll outlive Leyla by hundreds of years. You’re ridiculous.”

Silence ruled Fayeth’s bedroom, no response came, so she thought the succubus had left.

She would never love again. She knew it as truth, yet it did not bring her regret. Serenity could be found in a life without romance. The friends she’d opened her heart to had gone on ahead into the afterlife. Too often she felt like the responsibility of their deaths rested at her feet. Syvis might still have a living father if it weren’t for her choices.

“I could sweeten our arrangement,” Furore said. “Remember though, if you don’t fulfill your part, I won’t exclude your daughter from my schemes. You don’t have to spend the rest of your life alone. I might know how to lengthen a human’s lifespan, or you could shorten your own.”

Fayeth had a duty to protect her daughter, regardless of the cost, and she would. Her fears concerning Syvis had never involved the enslavement of her own heart, but she supposed it was worthless if she didn’t use it, so what difference did it make?

Swallowed

Two days passed in extreme boredom. The procession marched on and on and only stopped when night fell. Some of the soldiers grumbled about how Herielas should get out of his carriage and walk with the rest of them, if he thought they could keep up the current pace until they reached Xenthien. Leyla was starting to agree.

Nathaniel controlled the dissatisfied soldiers in his ranks as well as possible, yet Leyla couldn’t resist wondering if they would all make it. They hadn’t lost anyone, but a couple seemed ready to get up and leave if the conditions worsened.

Herielas rarely showed himself outside of his carriage. The diplomat preferred to keep his own company, few appreciated that in someone they were expected to protect with their lives.

Leyla didn’t like the diplomat’s reclusive nature herself, but she didn’t need to like it. She only needed to remember how this journey was the last journey she would have to make in service of the king of Algora.

If she focused on her goal, on freedom, she could endure whatever the forest may throw at her. She would survive. Even if the woods consumed everyone else, she would march on until she arrived at her destination.

Nothing terrible had occurred yet, which made the rumours about the Freow Woods sound exaggerated, but Leyla couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a question of time. She’d had a couple of strange encounters herself, and others whispered about seeing shadows moving past the tree line whenever they made camp.

Someone, or something, watched them as they passed under darkening canopies. The sun became more elusive the farther they got.

“Halt!” Nathaniel shouted from atop his white stallion and raised his hand.

The soldiers obeyed, but it took a moment for Herielas’ carriage to roll to a standstill. The driver hadn’t been paying as close attention to the horses as he ought to have.

“You two, with me.” Nathaniel pointed at a couple of the soldiers in front of the carriage, then he rode ahead of the procession to investigate whatever he’d detected. The two soldiers followed.

Leyla remained standing behind the carriage, as uncertain as everyone else. The straight road looked clear. She didn’t see any changes in their environment. Although, admittedly, the trees started to blend together after a while until it became difficult to tell if they were getting anywhere at all or always marching the same stretch of road.

“Ambush!” Nathaniel shouted, forced his horse to turn back, and galloped towards the carriage.

Thick roots shot out from both sides of the road, formed a wall, and cut the captain off from the rest of them.

A clanging echoed throughout the procession as every soldier drew their swords at once. Leyla gripped hers with both hands. If the trees had turned against them, they were outnumbered. Could she even hurt a tree if it attacked? What was she supposed to aim at? Her master hadn’t taught her how to fight anything else than humans.

“On the right!”

Everyone turned. Leyla thought she caught movement past the tree trunks, but she wouldn’t swear on it. It might have been a branch or a bush disturbed by the wind. She mumbled a silent prayer. She did not wish to die.

Arrows emerged from somewhere on the left side of the road and rained down in their midst with thunks. Several soldiers turned around again, disorganized without their captain, yet none were struck by the projectiles as far as she could see.

An arrow whisked past her ear. If it had been aimed a little to the right, she would have taken it in the eye.

An old soldier screamed as the road crumbled under his feet, the earth swallowed him whole. The sight stunned those around him. They didn’t know how to react. They didn’t even seem able to accept it as reality, despite how there was a hole where the man had stood a second ago.

“We shouldn’t never have gone into these cursed woods,” the woman next to her said.

“Not that we had a choice.” Leyla had volunteered, but she doubted anyone had been excited for this journey. Their king had known that he may never meet any of them again when he sent them away.

The ground trembled. Vibrations moved through Leyla’s boots, and the Freow Woods swallowed her too.

Subterranean

Leyla slid deeper underground at a dangerous speed, and regretted how she hadn’t thought of another plan to escape Algora. She’d never accounted for how she might get trapped inside the Freow Woods’ soil.

Her helmet dislodged on a root, nearly broke her neck as it came off, and then she landed with a splash in cold water and feared she would sink to the bottom and drown. Thankfully, her armour did not drag her with it because it did not sink.

She wiped the mud on her face off and looked around as soon as she could see. The underground cavern she’d fallen into struck her as very serene compared to the battle above. Bright luminescent mushrooms grew on the walls, and added a unique green light to everything, while roots dangled from the ceiling. Strings of purple danced in a corner of the cavern before surging into a staff.

It took Leyla a second to register that a familiar elven woman held the staff while chanting and staring up. She’d not believed in magic, not really, but she didn’t know what else could explain the display in front of her. She did remember the timeless elf. However, they’d met in a dream. She shouldn’t exist in reality.

“You,” Leyla said and reached for her sword, but it was not at her side or in the water. She’d lost the weapon.

The elf faced Leyla when she heard her, and her expression changed from concentration to irritation and distaste. Their immediate reactions to each other seemed similar to the dream, except they both wore clothes now. The elf wore an emerald dress, with a low neckline, which trailed in the water as she approached.

“Leyla,” she said and pointed the gnarled tip of the staff at her. “You like to strike deals with spirits? You think Furore is a joke?”

“What are you talking about?” Leyla searched the water for her sword, but she could not find it. “How do you know my name? Who is Furore?”

The elf lowered her staff. “You don’t know Furore?”

“I’ve no idea who they are.” Leyla sighed. “A friend of yours? And while we’re in a talkative mood, what are you doing to my fellow soldiers?”

“Spirits aren’t friends. They’ve bound us together. You can’t leave.” The elf stepped closer and offered Leyla a hand. “All soldiers live. I’m Fayeth va Sharel.”

Leyla hoped Fayeth told the truth about the others. She took her hand, struggled to her feet in her armour, and breathed out in relief when she didn’t knock either of them over.

“Fayeth’s a graceful name. Are you a queen? A noble?”

Fayeth frowned, her shoulders sagged. “Not these days. Long ago, in a war. My people chose me to lead them near our end. Thought I could… save them.”

“What happened to the man?” Leyla decided to change the subject since it seemed to sadden Fayeth. “The soldier the earth swallowed before me?”

“Sleeping.” Fayeth pointed at the wall to their right. The old soldier sat with his back against a cluster of luminescent mushroom. “Leave him.”

“What do you plan to do with me?”

“Nothing. I…” Fayeth trailed off, stared at Leyla. The hint of a smile played across the corners of her mouth. “While we’re forced together, I’ll give you a chance. For my daughter. Let’s waste time.”

Fayeth grabbed Leyla by the arm and dragged her along toward a tunnel. She did not enjoy being told what to do by someone without rank, but she was unarmed. Even if she’d had a weapon, she doubted it would have worked against magic.

Leyla ended up following her captor like an obedient pup. She only wished for freedom, yet it seemed like it would linger out of reach. She didn’t have an interest in Fayeth’s daughter, and did not need another despot to control her every whim and action.

Still, she supposed the queen intrigued her.

Higher

Fayeth pondered how to explain to her village why she returned with a prisoner, while Leyla trudged behind with loud, clunky steps. The girl traversed the narrow tunnel with difficulty. Fayeth chose to ignore the problem until she heard nearby critters fleeing from the noise, evacuating their homes.

“Could you stay quiet?”

Leyla squinted, knocked her knee into the side of a stalagmite, and almost bumped into Fayeth.

“Someone nearby?” The girl instinctively reached for the weapon she’d lost. “It’s not a bear, is it?”

“You can see?” Fayeth put her hand in front of Leyla’s nose. “You’re not blind in darkness?”

“I see fine,” the girl said, yet leaned forward to investigate Fayeth’s hand, and inhaled sharply when her nose bumped into her thumb. “Sorry.”

“Truly, you’re a hawk.” Fayeth smiled. “Come, I’ll show you light.”

She walked a few steps farther and tried to recall where they’d left the obelisks. She’d seen no reason to use them when she’d traversed the tunnels by herself, but Syvis’ father, Pharom, had had poor eyesight for an elf. He hadn’t struggled as much as Leyla, but he’d not seen every outcropping, stalagmite, and corner as well as Fayeth either.

In a hole covered in webs, she found what she searched for. A small obelisk carved out of black stone. Fayeth touched its top, and sparks burst out to float midair. Leyla hadn’t moved. She’d bent over to fiddle with her boots, but when Fayeth summoned more and more sparks, she raised her gaze.

“You’re a star-covered goddess,” Leyla said.

Fayeth studied the girl, with amused incredulity, and leaned on her staff. If a true goddess had heard what she’d said, they might have struck Leyla dead for blasphemy.

“What?” Leyla pulled her boots off her feet. “The bears won’t hear me coming.”

“No bears in the tunnels. Plenty of spiders. Huge spiders everywhere, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be.” Leyla extended a sympathetic smile. “I’m not afraid. Get us out of here, and I’ll stop the spiders from getting near you.”

“That’s not…”

Fayeth tried to think of a clever response, but nothing came. Leyla looked at her like a warrior might look at the innocent and defenseless. The silly girl seriously thought an elf was afraid of spiders, and she proceeded to promise to protect Fayeth from that fear.

She spun around, huffed, and gestured for Leyla to keep up or get left behind. She wasn’t interested in showing a human every secret of the Freow Woods. The obelisks would have to suffice. Humans should stay in their countries where they belonged, not wander around.

Fayeth tapped every obelisk she found along their route. Before long, she noticed how Leyla did the same.

Once or twice, when the girl wasn’t paying attention to her, Fayeth watched sparks erupt out of the obelisks and float around Leyla. She didn’t look like a goddess, but maybe Leyla resembled someone else a little, especially when she smiled to herself like she did. Good thing Fayeth didn’t believe in rebirth.

Truth

Leyla tired of toying with Fayeth’s splendid obelisks. The tunnels were aggravating to move through clad in armour, and her feet grew cold without protection. If it hadn’t been for the elf’s company, she would have begged to be returned to the road.

They turned another corner, light came into view. Fayeth kept walking without a care, but a mysterious stench gave Leyla pause. The elf had sharper senses, knew the area, so she probably didn’t have to worry about what awaited them though.

Leyla almost walked into Fayeth when she stopped right outside the cave. The stench of the forest mixed with Fayeth’s scent, this close, and she couldn’t tell if she liked either. At least she recognized the smell of sweat. The forest’s air might be toxic to breathe.

“If you wish, we split here, you find your way home,” Fayeth said. “If you go too far east, I’ll help you back on track. If you get lost, you’re lost.”

Xenthien laid to the east. Leyla had no intention of retracing her steps and going home. She was about to voice her disagreement, but then she got a good look at their surroundings.

Wherever they were didn’t remind her of the Freow Woods she’d gotten used to over the last days. Huge trees still loomed above like indifferent giants, but at their bases grew iris mushrooms as tall as houses. She wondered if the elves lived in them, but no, they couldn’t possibly. The stalks of the mushrooms were too thin for someone of Fayeth’s size to live in.

Subtle movement on top of a hill caught her eye. A dozen grey, furry felines rested around boulders, but only one or two of them took any interest in her. She’d never seen animals so at ease. The felines didn’t perceive them as noteworthy, despite how they intruded on their territory.

“What will you do?” Fayeth stepped into the shallow water which covered the ground everywhere, except for the hill.

Leyla hesitated and pointed when she saw an animal stir under the water, by one of the shorter mushrooms. Fayeth only glanced in that direction before shrugging.

“I…” Leyla said. “I need to go east.”

It wasn’t up for discussion. She’d prefer death over life in Algora, now that she’d come this far.

“Alone?” Fayeth frowned.

“Yes.” Leyla nodded and placed her hand where her sword should have been. “It’s important to me.”

“You can’t go east. The dead demands you return whence you came.” Fayeth gripped her staff, moved her lips as if preparing another chant, and stepped backward. “Not my choice. Humans are unwelcome here after everything you’ve done.”

“I know others passed through the forest before me. Merchants and diplomats. So why are you stopping me, specifically, from reaching Xenthien? You’ve got no…” She trailed off. She didn’t wish to upset the elf if they could come to an understanding. Some opinions were best left unspoken.

“Too few of us to stop everyone,” Fayeth said. “We don’t detect all travelers. Large caravans like yours, no problem. Smaller groups slip through our gaps. It’s given humans the wrong idea.”

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it. You don’t have to help me. Just leave me alone, give me a chance to slip through those gaps. Look the other direction.”

Fayeth scowled and pointed the gnarled tip of her staff at Leyla’s head. “You’re disrespectful. When the dead asks, I obey. You will never get through my country alive, human.”

“I…” Leyla threw her arms up in defeat, sighed, and an unwelcome melancholia came over her. “I guess you’ll have to kill me then. I can’t return home. My family plans to enslave me by marrying me to highest bidder. The only reason they let me become a soldier died last year. My grandfather, he…”

No. She did not have to tell Fayeth more than she had. She’d said enough. If the elf planned to kill her, she may as well do it. This was a very nice spot for a grave.

Fayeth dug her fingers into the length of her staff until her knuckles whitened. It would be quicker to get it over with, both of them knew it.

Or the elf could walk away and leave her. Leyla would either make it through the woods, or end up lost and forgotten. She doubted she could find the road again, and it was difficult to tell in which direction east lay when the canopies of the trees blotted out the sky.

“You’ve confessed your refusal to obey the laws of my home,” Fayeth said. “But I have no reason to send you back to the humans, if you’ve broken free. They’ll think you dead.”

“If you don’t plan to kill me, what do you suggest?” Leyla asked, stepped into the shallow water in front of the elf, and found it pleasantly warm against her cold feet. “Should I live with you?”

Fayeth scoffed, her face adopted a rapid succession of different expressions ranging from anger to surprise before Leyla thought she could see a faint blush on her high cheeks, framed by snowy hair.

“Certainly not.” Fayeth averted her gaze. “But I could show you a place, where no one other than I will find you.”

The elf turned her back on Leyla and waded through the water. Another animal stirred somewhere beneath, sending ripples across the surface of the pool. Leyla supposed she would be satisfied with the arrangement for now. It beat marriage.

She hurried after Fayeth, slowed down when they waded side by side, and gazed at the tall iris mushrooms. She tried to get a glimpse of whatever animal lived in the water as well, but it did not reveal itself.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were the only person I saw for the rest of my life,” she whispered. “I fantasized about living a fairytale as a child.”

Fayeth opened her mouth to respond, changed her mind, and slipped her staff between Leyla’s feet instead.

She tripped, landed with a loud splash. The elf hurried her steps on and left Leyla lying in the water. She swore she could hear Fayeth muttering as she pushed herself up.

The woman was too easy to offend. Leyla had meant what she’d said as a compliment. She didn’t deserve to get her clothes soaked as a weird form of retaliation. If the elf kept dropping her in water, her armour would deteriorate until she couldn’t use it for protection.

Fairytale Ruins

Leyla gawked at everything, while Fayeth did her best to guide the distracted human toward a nearby ruin. She’d not suspected she would visit these ruins again, but the place she had in mind would fit Leyla.

It wasn’t until she stood among the pillars on a worn stone path leading up to a decrepit wooden door that she regretted bringing the girl. Memories buried in the recesses of her mind threatened to erupt into tears, if she didn’t suppress them and think about something else. She’d spent some time with Syvis’ father in this ruin when it had been just another home.

The human snuck up on her. But Fayeth did not wish to speak with her, if it could be avoided, so she walked up to the door and attempted to force it aside.

Furore had been correct about the girl. She did seem innocent, for a soldier. Everything she said was too sweet, as if she picked her words with great care to mislead Fayeth. She might have believed that Leyla had been sent by the humans as a spy, if it wasn’t for the fact that the girl blurted out whatever nonsense occurred to her in the moment. Leyla didn’t think for a second.

“We’ll be staying here?” Leyla asked and helped Fayeth move the door.

It didn’t stay in place once the human used force. It shifted to the side, creaked, fell over, and stirred up dust. Fayeth didn’t feel like she’d done much to get the door loose. She doubted she would even have gotten it open without the human’s impressive strength.

Leyla stared at her, for too long, before she smiled and entered the ruin.

“You…” Fayeth cleared her dry throat. She needed a drink. They’d traveled too far without drinking. “You’ll stay here.”

“Wow!” Leyla shouted. “All elves like this? It’s so spacious.”

Fayeth breathed deeply and tried to stay in the moment. If she stepped inside, she would discover items which had belonged to her in the past, or worse, items which had belonged to Pharom.

She thought she’d be ready sooner than she was, yet she couldn’t push herself to enter the old home. She froze for minutes. Her subconscious chained her to the doorstep. At least until someone gave her a nudge and shoved her over the threshold.

“You’re welcome, darling,” Furore said.

“Spirit, I…” Fayeth sneezed as soon as she breathed the air inside. Once, twice, she sneezed before she had to steady herself against the railing by the steps leading down into the main room.

They hadn’t left a lot behind after all. A marble table with four chairs, a couple of bookcases, and a double bed. Lots and lots of dust had gathered over the years, but it wasn’t as painful as she’d expected to step inside. The memories only forced her to recall how someone great had loved her long ago.

“You alright?” Leyla asked. “It’s musty, but not terrible. I’ll clean it up for us. I visited a crypt, last year. The air was worse in there.”

“You’ll stay…”

Fayeth sneezed hard. The ancient railing she leaned on budged under her weight. If Leyla’s reflexes hadn’t been as swift as to rival thunder, Fayeth would have fallen face first into the room and cracked her skull on the corner of the table. But the human caught her in her arms.

She found it surprising how the girl had already started removing pieces of her armour and didn’t wear more than a padded garment over her torso. Leyla was soft. It might be for the best that she hadn’t caught Fayeth while clad in armour. Steel had sharp corners, surely.

“Need me to carry you outside?” Leyla asked, her pretty green eyes glanced toward the door. “You seem unwell.”

“I’m fine,” Fayeth said. “Thanks for asking.”

“You’re fine because I caught you. You could’ve broken a bone or died, if you’d been truly unlucky.”

“Could you set me down?”

An uncomfortable silence followed the question as Leyla considered her request. Fayeth felt the muscles in the girl’s arms constrain against her dress, and in some spots, her skin. It was an excruciatingly sweet sensation.

“If you say you’re fine, sure, I don’t see why not.” Leyla dropped her legs.

She didn’t release the rest of Fayeth until she’d steadied herself. They couldn’t stand closer than they did, Leyla’s breaths collided with her collarbone. Fayeth had an undeniable urge to listen to the cursed spirit and discover how far she could push this, if only to prevent her daughter from getting involved.

Yet Leyla missed the tension between them and sat on one of the chairs placed around the table.

Fayeth didn’t stick around. If she wasn’t about to break every vow she’d made to her people, she could flee and get some fresh air in her lungs.

She strode up to the entrance and found Furore waiting outside, blocking the doorway. The succubus held a glass knife in her right hand and used it to pick at the long nails on her left. She’d positioned herself out of Leyla’s view.

“We’re not going to leave yet, are we? That would be disappointing.” Furore stared into Fayeth’s soul with wild fire raging in her blood-red pupils. “This desire inside, building in the pit of your stomach, will kill you outright if you don’t get a single kiss from the human. Turn around, take a good look at her undressing in your former love nest, and ask her to give you what you crave. If you keep it to a single kiss, I’ll be awed by your restraint.”

Fayeth lost a portion of self-control, turned around against her better judgment, and recognized the full power of the spirit for the first time. Too late, but at least she understood she couldn’t have fought Furore anyway.

Genuine desire arose in her heart and mind to travel downwards along her neck and arms and grow powerful in her stomach. She couldn’t prevent it from doing so, yet even though her lips trembled with excitement, she wouldn’t ask the human for anything. The succubus couldn’t force her. Fayeth was not her slave, nor was she a slave to her own desires or foul, forbidden magic.

“Leyla, could you—“ Fayeth bit her treacherous tongue.

The girl looked up, pulled her greaves off her legs, and placed them on top of the table. When Fayeth did not continue, she focused on the armour pieces still strapped to her figure.

“You’re utterly alone,” Furore said. “No one, not a single soul in the world, will learn about what transpires in this love nest. There isn’t a god who cares about you. They’ve taken a peculiar interest in countries you’ve never heard of, far to the south. The north bores them. Elves are so last millennia. Don’t you wish to prove them wrong?”

If what Furore told her about the gods had a sliver of truth to it, Fayeth did indeed wish she could prove them wrong. But how would asking a human for a kiss accomplish that?

“I wish you’d stop calling it a love nest,” Fayeth whispered.

It may be true that the spacious room had once been a haven for two young elves, but she’d married Pharom later in her life. They hadn’t been illicit lovers meeting in secret. To have Leyla undress in this sacred ruin should fill her with wrath, yet it did the opposite.

She watched Leyla remove the pieces of her armour and place it on the table with utmost care, as if the girl worried she might break the furniture Fayeth had abandoned to time.

Fayeth bit her tongue again, lest it betray her, but she could not pull her gaze away from the sweaty and wet soldier. She’d dropped Leyla into shallow water twice, but she’d not expected it would result in this half-naked, athletic beauty seated on a chair in an elven ruin. Every fluid movement Leyla made caused drops of water and sweat to trail along her neck, arms, and toned stomach.

Fayeth couldn’t tell what each drop consisted of. But if she’d been as depraved as Furore, she would have walked over to the girl and licked them of her scarred skin. She would have placed bets on each before tasting them. She wouldn’t have managed to resist teasing the innocent girl, endlessly, till she surrendered.

When Leyla finished removing her armour and began to strip into her undergarments, Fayeth pushed her legs together under her emerald dress. It wasn’t like the girl would notice. She didn’t care that Fayeth hadn’t torn her eyes off her for several minutes.

If Leyla wanted her to stop staring, she need only say so. No one could be as interested in their own clothes as the girl on the chair. She had to know.

“Like watching a young deer stumble about, isn’t it,” Furore said.

The comment made no sense. Maybe the succubus had tried to compare Leyla to a sight she thought an elf would find adorable, which in turn made no sense either. Leyla wasn’t cute. She was as desirable as any man. More so, maybe, because she had a forbidden atmosphere. No touching.

Finally, after what might have been hours, Leyla lifted her head and looked at Fayeth. She appeared startled to find her staring at her.

“Could you not have waited outside? I thought you left.”

“I-I… I…”

“Ooh, she’s onto you, elf.” Furore chuckled.

The realization of how she’d stood and stared at someone undress in front of her struck Fayeth like a kick to the face. Leyla hadn’t stripped for her enjoyment. She must have walked around in soaked clothes because of what had happened earlier in the day, so when she’d gotten the chance, she’d undressed to salvage her armour.

“You’re the deer, Fayeth,” Furore said. “Not too bright, easily distracted.”

Her cheeks burnt red-hot. She didn’t know what to do when the succubus prevented her from fleeing, so she shut her eyes and prayed for someone to save her from the mess. Any god would do if they kept Syvis out of it.

Cinder

Leyla rose to her feet, she hadn’t intended to scare the elf into submission. Honestly, she hadn’t thought it possible. Perhaps she had been rude. After all, the quaint, dusty home belonged to Fayeth. She could understand if the elf worried she might steal from her, but there didn’t seem to be anything to steal. It wasn’t practical to drag furniture through the wilderness.

“Fayeth?”

Leyla crossed the room, leapt up the stairs, and approached the elf slowly. She had to fight to not sneeze when a cold wind blew into the ruin and stirred up a second cloud of dust. She succeeded, but Fayeth sneezed twice. The elf had the cutest sneezes. They sounded gentle, delightful, to the ears.

“Fayeth.” Leyla said. “What’s wrong?”

She pondered if she should poke the elf’s arm to get her to respond, but before she could, Fayeth whispered something inaudible. Did she whisper to herself, or Leyla? It had been such a quiet whisper she couldn’t tell.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear, Fayeth.”

“Would you protect me from doing dumb things like these?” Fayeth asked in a louder, braver voice.

“Dumb things like what?” Leyla scratched her neck. “You haven’t…”

Fayeth opened her icy eyes and stared Leyla down with a fierce heat which no one had cast her direction before. She gulped. Fayeth might be the death of her one day, and as the elf lifted both hands to her face, she suspected that day had arrived way too soon.

But Fayeth only closed the short distance between them and pressed her lips against Leyla’s. She did not murder her.

It took a second for Leyla to understand what happened, and when she did, she found herself shocked. Thrills ran across her skin. She’d never kissed a woman, didn’t know what the elf wanted. How could she please?

Fayeth had shut her eyes to savour the kiss, but Leyla had not. She spotted birthmarks, freckles, attractive defects, in the elf’s face since she did not blink. The kiss ended, too soon, yet the heat in Fayeth’s gaze only increased in intensity when she retreated.

“That… That wasn’t dumb,” Leyla said. Whatever she thought of the kiss, and she hadn’t had the time to process it, she did not think it dumb.

“It was the dumbest thing I’ve done, in my life,” Fayeth said, adjusted her snowy hair, and turned to leave.

“You should do it again,” Leyla said and reached out to grab Fayeth’s wrist to prevent her from leaving, but hesitated before she committed to the action. If she angered the elf, she would have no one to help her avoid Algora.

“I won’t. Trust me.”

Leyla couldn’t tell if it was the grief in Fayeth’s voice, or her own will, which convinced her to grab the elf when she was about to flee the ruin. Either way, it didn’t affect the outcome. She grabbed Fayeth’s wrist and held onto it.

“Then…” Leyla spun the woman around. “I will. I’ll do dumb things with you.”

She kissed Fayeth’s lips with fervour to prove how serious she was. Fayeth reacted in a similar manner to how Leyla had first reacted before she relaxed into the kiss. Leyla felt the elf’s fingers slide through her hair, and smelled Fayeth’s precious scent, but she focused on the kiss and the exploration of her lover’s lips. She grazed them with the tip of her tongue, nibbled on them, and adored their texture.

She kissed Fayeth and understood she would never care about men like she cared about the elf. How could they compare to a queen? How could anyone? The elf’s feminine forms were new, exciting, though she had similar features herself. She hadn’t begun to explore Fayeth to her full extent yet.

Fayeth cut the kiss short. Leyla tried to resume it, but she was hindered when the elf pressed an index finger against her lips.

“You don’t have food, blankets for warmth, anything. I can return tonight, and…” Fayeth didn’t finish the sentence. She bit her tongue and slipped out of Leyla’s arms.

“And what?”

“I’ll bring you food and blankets,” Fayeth said, hurried outside.

She did not give Leyla a second chance to prevent her from running away. Although, her proud gait could hardly be described as running. She moved with deliberate steps. Still, Leyla hated watching her leave. She should don her armour and go with Fayeth in case she needed someone to protect her against beasts.

She had to remind herself that Fayeth didn’t require protection in the Freow Woods. Long before Leyla had been born, Fayeth had lived in the forest she’d ruled as its queen. If Leyla wanted a third kiss, and permission to explore Fayeth’s body for every little secret, she best be on her best behaviour. The elf could have anyone.

Princess

Fayeth shivered with each step. The succubus may have forced her to kiss the human with an ultimatum, but she did not regret doing it. She had to fight her own mind to not rush back inside and jump Leyla.

She longed to have the girl’s muscular arms wrapped around her again, as tight as they could squeeze and hold. If the situation had been different, if she’d already had a warm hut for Leyla to stay in, she would not have torn herself from her new companion. She would have given in and stayed with the human all night.

She walked until she was well out of sight of the ruin, made sure she wasn’t followed, and put her fingers in her mouth to whistle a specific, high-pitched note. The wind carried the tune far and wide, rustling the leaves of trees and bushes.

A moment later a majestic elk, with sprawling alabaster antlers, appeared ahead of her bathed in sunlight. Another spirit. He could not speak like Furore, yet she valued him a great deal more for his loyalty and intelligence. He would not fight or draw blood at her command, but he would carry her wherever she wished to go.

“Eina.” Fayeth bowed, walked over to the spirit, and ran her fingers along his furred neck.

He lowered his head in what she’d always taken as a bow, before he laid down in the grass. She climbed up onto his back, whispered her destination in his ear, and held on tight. The elk took off and leapt past large swathes of the Freow Woods.

No horse could move as fast as he did. If they’d had more like him during the war, they might not have lost. If Fayeth could have equipped an army with godlike steeds, she would have done so. The spirits would never have forgiven her for abusing them in such a heinous way, especially not if any of them had died, but she would have born the burden for her people. Sadly, the choice had not been available to her.

The journey to the outskirts of the elven village took a while. She found it difficult to discern how many hours passed when she rode Eina. Everything flew past in a blur. Time did not exist. The spirit arrived at their destination and waited for her to dismount.

She didn’t have a chance to thank him for his assistance. One moment he was there, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and the next he’d vanished. She sometimes wondered if he lived in the woods, or if he only traversed the area when someone called out to him for assistance.

Fayeth didn’t dawdle. She jogged past rock and squirrel and entered Tsarra. The village was as peaceful and quiet as ever, despite how some of her neighbors had helped intimidate the humans that very morning. While she’d hid underneath the road and used her magic to persuade nature to act, ten other elves had distracted the soldiers.

Fayeth ascended the spiral staircase to the walkways and headed towards the home she shared with her daughter. She smiled at every elf she encountered, and they smiled politely at her in turn. Nothing had changed since they last saw each other, yet she couldn’t deny that she felt different than when she’d left. She hadn’t kissed anyone in forever. Her lips tingled.

“Mother!” Syvis burst out of their home and disrupted Fayeth’s tranquility. “The humans haven’t crawled back under their rocks. They’ve pushed on east. Do you want me to stop them? Give me the order, I will do what we know must be done.”

Syvis spoke so loud that her voice carried throughout the village. It wasn’t the first time her daughter decided that they ought to have a shouting match, but Fayeth wasn’t in the mood. It would take days for the humans to get to the other side of the Freow Woods. She did not have to stop them today. The dead had not provided a date for when the humans had to be gone.

“I am not the leader of this village,” Fayeth said with a patient smile. “This village doesn’t have a leader. And if it did, it wouldn’t be me. Everyone knows I’ve proved my ineptitude in that regard. If you need a queen to give you orders, Syvis, appoint someone else.”

She pushed past Syvis and slipped inside their home. The cramped hallway with its numerous wood carvings on the walls looked worse than when she’d departed. She could tell by the broken plates on the carpet that Syvis was angrier than usual.

Her daughter would throw tantrums every once in a while, but she rarely broke their belongings on purpose. If she did, she knew she would have to replace them herself, and Syvis was less than fond of using her hands for creation. She preferred to destroy.

Fayeth disregarded the broken plates and went searching for blankets she could bring to Leyla. She found two blue ones thrown over the rocking chair in her bedroom. Sunlight peeked in through the round windows, danced across the cracks in the floor, and made her hesitate as she looked at her own bed with a strange fondness. What was she doing?

She may not call herself a queen these days, but she still had pride, did she not? Why should she bring anything to a human? If Leyla could not survive on her own in the wild, did she really deserve to survive at all?

“You left us,” Syvis said as she entered the bedroom and tugged on her ginger locks. She often took it out on her hair when something annoyed her. “We thought you would keep up your assault on the humans longer than you did, but you disappeared. Someone could have gotten hurt. We were outnumbered.”

“I didn’t…” Fayeth thought back to their attack on the humans. Maybe she had left too early. She’d dragged one soldier underground, put him to sleep, and then the second soldier had turned out to be Leyla. Furore’s pet project.

“I feared you might be hurt, but I can tell you’re not.” Syvis snorted. “What do you plan to do with our blankets?”

“They’re mine, not ours.”

Syvis tugged so hard on her own hair that she winced. “And what’re you going to do with them? Are they more important than the humans?”

“Nothing.” Fayeth dropped the blankets on the bed, grabbed her daughter’s hand, and prevented Syvis from taking out her anger on herself. “Forget them.”

She might have enjoyed spending the night with Leyla, but she had one responsibility in life which she deemed paramount. If she did not care for her angry bee of a child, who would? Syvis stomped her foot on the floor and pouted, but it was at most a weak attempt to get respect. She did not try to free herself of Fayeth’s grasp.

“You should repair what you’ve destroyed,” Fayeth said. “Once you’ve fixed your own mess, we can discuss the intruders.”

“I hate you,” Syvis muttered, but she couldn’t look at Fayeth after she’d said it. She stared at the wall next to them. “Everyone thinks you’re pathetic in your old age.”

Fayeth laughed, released her daughter, and ruffled her hair. “Only you would dare to say that to my face, or so I thought. Seems the wall caught your eye as you gathered the courage.”

“They all probably think it behind your back.”

“How brave,” Fayeth said and pulled her daughter into a hug against her will. Syvis squirmed, a bit. “I only care about your opinion. Among the living, you’re the one I love.”

“I find it sad, mother. You’re not dead. How am I supposed to move away from home when it makes me think I’ll abandon you to your eternal loneliness?” Syvis asked. “You’ve lived longer without my father than with him, by my count.”

“That’s…” Fayeth hadn’t kept count. She hated thinking in those lines. “You can move. I’ve always appreciated the solitude I have when you’re not busy screaming my ears off.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Maybe her daughter had a point. Fayeth let Syvis go, let her leave the room with a quick nod, and figured she didn’t have to help Leyla survive. She could treat her like a prisoner and use her like a slave to get what she craved. No one would find out. Not a single soul.

She’d denied herself pleasure because of a dead love, but she doubted Pharom would have made the same choice in her shoes. Fayeth picked up the blankets to go and grab food for her eager, waiting slave.

The Queen’s Slave

Leyla sort of felt watched, as evening approached, but at least it didn’t take her long to find a suitable branch with thick leaves which might serve the purpose she had in mind. It wasn’t like she had anything better available to dust with in the wilds, unless she wanted to get her clothes dirty.

While she brushed dust off shelves, walls, and chairs, it amazed her how anyone had abandoned the large room she found herself in. It must have been fit for a king and queen once, but it had been left to fall into disrepair as if no one could bring themselves to care for it.

She figured Fayeth had had a good reason to ignore it, but it didn’t make it seem like less of a waste. Why not give it to someone in need before it became a ruin? Why leave it to decay?

If the door she’d knocked off its hinges hadn’t been so sturdy, she would have expected to find a den of wolves inside. However, she didn’t spot a single spider, beetle, or insect while cleaning. Could the ruin have protected itself from intrusions with magic like Fayeth’s?

Leyla lost herself to fanciful fantasies about the past of the ruin, and what it may once have been used for. She pranced about, hummed to herself, and did her best to rid the interior of a huge amount of dust. She didn’t hear Fayeth enter before the elf sneezed.

Leyla faced Fayeth and was awestruck by her gorgeous outfit. She’d exchanged her emerald dress for an azure two-piece which left her stomach bare. The top accentuated the elf’s curves without being too revealing, and the skirt trailed far behind. She wore a pale shawl as an accessory over her shoulders.

Leyla had not met many royals, except for the Algorian king, but she imagined Fayeth would have fit right in with the best of them in what she currently wore. It made Leyla very self-conscious, since she had nothing to wear except her undergarments.

“I, um…”

Her mouth collected saliva as she spoke, and she worried she might start drooling like an imbecile if Fayeth kept watching her without bothering to hide what she looked at. It was certainly not Leyla’s face.

Maybe the elf was insulted that she hadn’t changed her clothes too. Maybe she needed to ask for a set to borrow.

“Thank you for cleaning.” Fayeth placed a basket by the broken door. “I would like to lay with you now, if you’ve no objections, but not here. This ruin is too personal to me. I know of a nearby spring we used to bathe in.”

The elf said the strangest things while exuding the most commanding presence. Leyla’s heart raced in her chest, pounded in her ears, and didn’t give her a single suggestion for how to respond. She was drawn to Fayeth, they’d kissed twice, but how could she accept her offer? What was the correct response? What were the exact words she needed to use?

Fayeth pulled a couple of blue blankets out of the basket, threw them on the stone bed, and retreated outside with the basket. She didn’t seem to notice how Leyla hadn’t spoken.

“No one will find out. We’re alone.” Fayeth winked and extended her right arm in Leyla’s direction, as if she only offered to take a stroll together. “Don’t you want another kiss? Don’t you want me?”

Leyla did. She supposed neither of them had reason to hide their feelings anymore after Fayeth’s invitation. Besides, she didn’t care if someone learnt how attracted she was to the regal elf, as long as they didn’t try to get between them.

She approached Fayeth and considered linking their arms together, but her words had emboldened her, so instead she wrapped an arm around her waist. Fayeth snorted, a grin played over her fine lips.

“Hope you know what you’re doing, girl, because I don’t.” Fayeth battered her eyelashes. “You’ll have to teach me how to take it further than kisses.”

“H-how difficult can it be?” Leyla said, yet she probably had less experience than Fayeth in this particular area.

“I guess we’ll learn together as a hopeless pair.” Fayeth leaned her head against Leyla’s. “Don’t leave me disappointed. I think you may be the first with the courage to court an elf. Are you sure you’re up to the task?”

Leyla hadn’t gotten past the initial hurdle of how they were both women, and now Fayeth suggested there might be more to it than that? No, she wasn’t up to the task. Worst case scenario, if she did disappoint her lover, she could swear up and down that Fayeth hadn’t satisfied her either.

Fayeth dragged her away from the ruin, descended overgrown, hidden stairs, and lead her on a winding path past a clear stream. When Leyla had ventured outside alone, she hadn’t seen the stairs or the stonework which hinted at a much larger structure than a single home.

She prayed the elves who’d lived in these ruins reclaimed by nature were at peace, or on the other side of the world. If anyone wanted to stop her from touching their queen, they need only shoot her with an arrow or impale her on a sword. She remained unarmed and defenseless. Anyone would have plenty of cover in the ruins to hide behind too.

“You’ve grown silent,” Fayeth said, dragged her over to a dead end covered in rich greenery, and pulled the plants to the side like a canvas. The greenery confused Leyla with how it moved when Fayeth pulled it aside, but up close, it did not appear natural. Someone had weaved the pieces and plants into a whole.

“I don’t want to offend the ghosts of your people, by…” She glanced at Fayeth, took her body in with her senses, and thought she smelled new perfume. Lavender? Her fingers twitched as she resisted touching, and the hairs on her arms rose in anticipation as soon as she stopped focusing on their surroundings.

“Having carnal relations with their queen? I think there’re more human ghosts than elven spirits in these ruins. Your people defiled our home with their presence, so we stopped living here. Gave it to nature.” Fayeth bit her bottom lip, a blend of hatred and lust appeared in her gaze. “How about you finish the job by sullying the former queen?”

Leyla pressed Fayeth up against the nearest wall, ran her nose along her lover’s face, breathed in, and licked her skin. Fayeth trembled when Leyla laid her hands on her hips.

“I joked,” she said and placed her left leg between Leyla’s. “The bath is downstairs. Take me there. It’s nicer, I’m sure. Nothing that belongs to us ages like your kind does.”

“What if I’m sick of listening to you talk?” Leyla kissed Fayeth’s cheek, moved downward, and created a trail of impatient kisses along her neck. She listened to Fayeth’s breathing grow heavier in her ears, and if it hadn’t been for her azure top, Leyla would have continued her kisses until she was on her knees in front of the elf. “What if I want to hear you…” She tugged on the fabric concealing the queen’s ample chest.

“Moan?” Fayeth laughed. “Does the sweet girl want to hear me moan? Is that what you were trying to say before you were distracted by my breasts?”

“I wasn’t distracted. I—”

Fayeth interrupted her sentence by pushing her chest forward and releasing a loud, needy moan which bounced off the walls and echoed in the ruin. Leyla listened to the marvelous sound, heard its echoes grow weaker and weaker, then she lost control and tugged at Fayeth’s top to rip it apart. She had to taste and worship every aspect of the queen.

“Downstairs.” Fayeth giggled, grabbed Leyla’s head, and kissed her forcefully on the lips to snap her out of her trance. “Let’s go downstairs, bathe, and eat.”

Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten in a while, yet in her heart, she knew she only hungered for Fayeth. Real nourishment could wait till afterwards, tomorrow.

“I’ll carry you.” Leyla hoisted her lover into her arms. “Tell me where to go, I’ll run faster than the wind.”

Fayeth rested her head on Leyla’s shoulder and snuggled up against her with a pink blush on her cheeks. “Downstairs, like I said. I’m not so annoying to listen to that you don’t hear what I say, am I?”

“I’d follow your orders over my own king’s, any day.” Leyla ran farther into the ruins.

“Watch your tongue, or you might encourage an old crone to believe in life after death.”

Conquer Me

When they descended the stairs into the spring where she’d spent days and nights with friends, Fayeth heard the sound of a waterfall which she’d forgotten. The sound didn’t bring to mind sad memories, yet she’d thought she could recall every detail of this gigantic ruin like the lines of her hand. The realization that she could forget details too struck her as droll.

“You won’t trip and fall?” Fayeth asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll shield you if I do trip.”

The soldier moved fast down the stairs, and the bottom was not as well lit as the top. To Fayeth, the area looked as dark as the tunnels, but it was impossible for her to know what Leyla could or could not see.

At the bottom of the stairs, a spring with glittering water stretched out far on every side of a landing. The water had risen high enough to flow across the landing’s smooth stones, and someone had left benches and active obelisks of light.

“Are you sure you want to… explore each other in this dim room? I can’t see the walls. Bears might lurk in the darkness.”

“Put me down. This is perfect.” Fayeth grinned against Leyla’s dirty skin. She wasn’t about to tell the human, but if anyone needed a bath right now, it was her. “Why are you obsessed with bears? They won’t attack you in my company.”

“They’re shifty.” Leyla grabbed the basket in Fayeth’s arms, sat it down on the nearest bench, and stepped closer to the edge of the landing.

“No. Please. I wore this outfit to entice you. It doesn’t give you permission to destroy it.” Fayeth squirmed and tried to slip out of Leyla’s arms and put her legs on the landing.

“It’s extremely enticing, trust me, but revenge is revenge,” Leyla said, swayed her arms backwards in an arc, and tossed Fayeth a fair distance into the spring.

She cursed the girl as she soared through the air. Luckily, the water was hot when she landed and sunk like a stone. Familiar. But if Leyla thought she could take these kinds of liberties with her, she would have to teach the girl how to behave. It might be a harsh few lessons before Fayeth was finished with her ass.

“Is it warm?” Leyla asked when Fayeth pushed her head and ears above the spring’s surface. Her clothes weighed her down, but she was a strong swimmer.

“Jump in, check for yourself!”

Leyla dipped her toes into the spring, flashed a titillating smile, and turned her back against Fayeth. The girl slid her thumbs up under the edges of her shirt and swayed her hips from side to side in a hypnotic sort of dance. She needed more lessons from whoever had taught her how to dance, but Fayeth enjoyed the beauty putting on a show exclusive to her nonetheless.

Then again, Leyla could have thrown her crotch out in Fayeth’s general direction, and it would have been attractive with her figure. When Leyla began sliding her shirt off her torso, Fayeth knew she had to put a stop to the show.

“Wait!” She shouted and swam towards the landing. “I want to do that.”

“Do what?” Leyla looked at her from over her shoulder.

“Undress you,” Fayeth said and placed her hands on the side of the landing. “Sit, in front of me.”

Leyla dropped her shirt, so it fell over her athletic form and concealed it from view. It was a brief, regretful moment before she got on her knees and extended her legs, so they dangled into the spring and trapped Fayeth between them.

The move put her head at the same height as the girl’s stomach. They pleaded with each other, for someone to initiate the act, with lingering eye contact. Fayeth did not grow flustered first. Leyla averted her gaze and tried to pretend like the position didn’t bother her.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a cock. I would have known what hole to slide it in.” Fayeth smacked her lips.

Leyla’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe her ears. She seemed like she was about to respond, but settled on nothing, sat with her mouth agape, and stared off into the distance. To assure the girl she was everything Fayeth desired this afternoon, she pushed up out of the spring until they were face to face and planted a sloppy kiss on her round nose.

“On the other hand, you’ll attend me with the same care and effort I show you, won’t you? You’re not going to leave me dissatisfied?”

“I ought to tease, tease, and tease you till you’re on the precipice of begging because nothing else works,” Leyla said and stared down at the top which clung tighter to Fayeth’s chest after it had gotten wet.

“Do your worst,” she said, squeezed her arms together to accentuate the size of her breasts, and flicked her tongue across the tip of Leyla’s nose. “Petty revenge entertains you more than sex.”

Leyla faced the challenge head-on by pulling Fayeth out of the water and on top of her. She couldn’t help giggling as the girl embraced her and demonstrated who could dominate who, if they so choose.

They rolled around, wrestled, to determine who would have what position. Of course, Fayeth didn’t stand much of a chance. She had to content herself with being pinned to the landing, for as long as Leyla preferred to be on top. She couldn’t force a retreat when she lacked the physical strength to exert her will on her enemy. And she wasn’t about to beg the girl for mercy.

She doubted she could speak when giggling anyway. A newfound joy allied itself against her and joined forces with Leyla. Fayeth lost her luxurious top faster than she lost the short battle. Leyla only struggled with it for a few seconds before she gave up on trying and tore the fabric.

The spring’s hot water flowed back and forth against Fayeth’s body, tugged on the strands of her torn top, while Leyla slid her fingers along the bare curves of her chest. The treasures the girl had uncovered entranced her once she’d broken their azure seal.

To claim a victory of her own, Fayeth moved the palm of her hand across Leyla’s navel and into her underwear. The girl gasped at the ambush, shook, and forgot the territory she’d claimed long enough for Fayeth to grow irritated with how poorly prepared her enemy was.

She wrapped her slender legs around Leyla’s waist, caressed the weak spot under her palm, and attempted to get back on top. Leyla quivered and melted like ice onto her palm, but she did not budge even a little bit when Fayeth tried to pull her over with her legs. She’d only gained new information about how vulnerable the girl was, not bested her, but it allowed her to claim a true victory by sliding two of her fingers into Leyla’s unexplored vault.

The girl moaned, convulsed, and her expression became pure bliss. Fayeth suspected she’d won the war, but she didn’t stop her attack on Leyla’s sex. She’d never touched a woman like this before, and she wished to discover every little sound she could pull from the girl’s throat by touching her between her legs.

Soon though, Leyla recovered her strength. And when she did, she began to grind against Fayeth’s hand, moved her sex up and down along her wrist. It made it difficult for Fayeth to know where to touch, but the girl took her mind of the problem by kissing her collarbone, toying urgently with her treasures, and sucking her stiff nipples into her mouth.

Ecstasy the likes of which she’d not experienced in centuries conquered Fayeth. She surrendered to her lover’s intense greed, and wished it would always feel as gratifying to lose.

An Empire for You

Stone towers stretched up into the cloudy sky to greet dawn. Beams of sunlight shifted across their surfaces, and bared their cracks and irregularities to the world, yet they didn’t waver. The towers stood proud and indomitable.

Leyla awakened sore and satisfied in a bed made of clouds at the massive bases of the towers. She didn’t recall falling asleep, but she supposed she must have done so at some point. She would swear with certainty that she’d never left the spring under the ruins though, so this must be another dream.

Fayeth stirred and scattered parts of their cloud blankets to the winds. The elven beauty smiled groggily at Leyla, pulled her into a hug, and rested her head on her chest. Wherever they were in this dream, Leyla doubted she would be shown anything which would leave as strong an impression on her heart as Fayeth’s snowy hair strewn across the training scars on her torso.

At least until she heard a deafening roar that caused the towers around them to quake and crumble. Large chunks of stone came loose, tumbled through cloud after cloud before they disappeared into the abyss beneath.

Under normal circumstances her first instinct would have been to reach for her sword, but with Fayeth so close and vulnerable, she laid her arms around the elf. She hugged her hard enough that she couldn’t tell whose heart pounded in whose chest.

“A dream, no more,” Fayeth whispered against Leyla’s neck. “Courtesy of the spirit. She won.”

“Are you sure it’s harmless?” Leyla didn’t know a lot about the realm of dreams, but when they’d first met, Fayeth had choked her, and it had hurt. If the elf had intended to kill her then, she may have succeeded.

“This spirit doesn’t want us dead, so yes, you’re safe.”

“I’m worried about you, not myself. I can fight.”

The beating of immense wings scattered every cloud in the vicinity of the bed and revealed their intertwined legs to the sunlight and the sky. The sound was so deafening that she couldn’t hear what Fayeth said when she moved her lips. She only saw the elf laugh.

Her grandfather had told her tales as a child about the creatures which burst out of the abyss around the bed next, but she’d never imagined they would be quite so immense. Even in a dream, the pale, golden dragon and its ashen companion inspired a dread which rivaled the worst memories of her life.

It took an astounding amount of time for the entirety of the dragons’ bodies to come into view, and by then, she’d calmed down because it had become evident they were passing by. They were involved in their own mating ritual as they circled and clawed at each other without interest in her or Fayeth. She was an insignificant fly.

“You believe you can fight them?” Fayeth shouted.

The ashen dragon knocked over one of the stone towers in its path, but kept soaring higher as if it didn’t care about the damage it caused when that tower toppled, collided with its neighbor, and brought another three down.

Stones fell around them, yet none struck the bed. If a stone of that size had landed on them, they would have been crushed into a fine powder.

Leyla shrugged and donned a grin which she hoped looked confident. “They’re no bears, but for you, I’ll do my utmost. Just don’t expect me to return in one piece.”

Fayeth grabbed her chin, kissed her tenderly, and pushed her tongue past Leyla’s lips. “I’d never give you an order which sent you to your death. I’ve made that mistake thousands of times already…”

A couple of the queen’s tears landed on Leyla’s chest. She dried them with her thumb, licked it clean, and tasted heaven. “I’d forgive you, if my death was for a good cause I believed in. Don’t you think the elves that died under your command would do the same, if they could?”

She hadn’t meant to make Fayeth weep, and she didn’t know what to do when she did. Leyla could only hold the queen close and stroke her back.

The dragons flew towards the horizon, joined by a smattering of vibrant birds, and Leyla wondered what her grandfather would have said if he could have seen her. She regretted how he’d died before she met Fayeth.

Even if she may have hid the truth of their relationship from him, in the beginning, she would have liked for them to meet. He would have shown the queen the most compassionate soul of humanity.

Unwelcome Visit

Fayeth walked on clouds for hours after she’d slept with Leyla. Every once in a while, when she thought she was alone at home, a gentle breeze would caress her in the wrong spot, and she’d shiver uncontrollably because the sensation reminded her of the girl’s nimble fingers. She longed to have them inside her again.

At one point, Syvis happened to enter their kitchen at an inopportune moment, and though she didn’t comment on her mother’s weird trembling, she stared. Fayeth didn’t know how to explain what had happened to her daughter, but she feared she might have to, sooner or later, since Leyla lived on in her heart.

“The humans will be difficult to stop if we don’t act soon,” Syvis said and skipped morning pleasantries. “I can travel to the next village along their path, warn them, but I think we ought to deal with the humans ourselves. It’s our duty.”

“It’s my duty,” Fayeth said, grabbed the cup of herbal tea she’d prepared, and sat at the table. A friend of hers, a woodworker, had gifted the table to her on one of her numerous birthdays. He’d carved it in the shape of an oak leaf.

“You don’t have to carry the burden alone, mother.” Syvis leaned against the wall, next to a painting of the meadow of the dead. “I can ride Eina. I can warn our brethren. What if they’re caught unaware because we didn’t?”

“No elf will stumble into a human caravan by accident, and the Freow Woods are on our side, so if the humans try to ambush us in our own country, they’ll fail.” Fayeth sipped on her tea, which proved quite hot.

Syvis tugged on her hair and stomped her foot. “Mother, I—“

“Fine!” Fayeth wished they would not argue whenever they saw each other these days. She missed going fishing with her daughter, but she supposed Syvis had grown out of it. They hadn’t done it in months. “Do it, you can leave now. Eina will bring you to Atrin in a matter of hours.”

Syvis’ face lit up, beamed with excitement, and backed out of the kitchen as fast as she could like she feared Fayeth would withdraw her permission if she didn’t hurry.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She shouted as she disappeared out of their home.

Fayeth sipped her tea, somewhat confused by Syvis reaction. If she didn’t know better, she would think her daughter had met a lover herself, and they lived in Atrin. Hopefully, Syvis wasn’t so bloodthirsty that she’d leap with joy at an opportunity to fight humans.

Either way, Fayeth could use the time her daughter was gone to pack another basket with food for Leyla. The girl didn’t seem useless in the wild, but Fayeth would rather have her eating berries and mushrooms than hunting animals. She didn’t want to offend the spirits by giving Leyla too many liberties in their domain. The girl remained her prisoner, in a sense, even if Fayeth had never told her that part of their arrangement.

The painting of the meadow on the wall made her consider whether she should return there or not. Maybe if she sought new guidance, or carried out a sacrifice, the dead would show understanding and not resent her for recent choices. How could she ever confess to them what she’d done with a human? Would they think less of her because Leyla was a girl? She hadn’t known most of those who rested in the soil of the meadow as well as she should. Simply because they were too many.

She blew on her tea to cool the liquid. What if Leyla was right? What if every elf who’d died under her banner would forgive her because they’d believed in the cause they’d fought for? She hadn’t forced anyone into war. The humans had refused to negotiate. They’d had no reason to use diplomacy, since they’d always seemed to have the upper hand.

What if the dead hated her, not because they’d died while she’d been queen, but for her weakness? For accepting defeat, and for disrespecting them by not championing their cause until she’d drawn her own last breath.

She may not have disappointed a single one of them until she’d chosen to go on alone. If Fayeth hadn’t gotten pregnant with Syvis, she would gladly have mounted a final stand, outfitted an army with the last of the elves, and ridden into the villages of Algora.

“You’ll go from sadness to sadness.” Furore appeared in the chair on the other side of the table and made Fayeth recoil by pointing the tip of the glass knife in her face. She almost spilled her tea across her lap.

“I’ve done what you asked, why are you here!”

She had a bow and a knife in her bedroom, but they were too far away to be useful. Her staff leaned against the wall in the hallway. She could see its gnarled tip peeking around the corner.

“Oh.” Furore shrugged. “I thought you would like my help with your very mortal, very short-lived, lover. Remember? You told me you couldn’t love her because she would die centuries before you.”

She didn’t want to think about Leyla’s death. She’d only slept with her for the first time a day ago. Why couldn’t Furore leave them alone for a decade or two?

“So?” Fayeth sipped the tea which had cooled a little. “Have you found an option, or do you simply enjoy disrupting my peace and quiet?”

“You think too little of me.” Furore grinned. “I have an option which I know you’ll both like, but since you jumped into bed sooner than I predicted, I’ve decided to rescind my offer. I won’t sweeten our deal. If you want Leyla to live forever, you’ll have to give me someone else.” Furore stopped grinning and scratched her chin on the glass knife. “Someone you made me swear I wouldn’t touch, but who is stumbling about in my new domain.”

“Syvis…? Are you serious, fiend?” Fayeth gripped the cup in her hands so hard that it should have shattered.

“It’s not my fault.” Furore raised her hands in a dismissive gesture. “I’m new to this job. I did not think my predecessor had to fill a predetermined quota.” She burst out laughing. “Like, where does the list come from? What kind of being has the right to order someone with my power around?”

Fayeth lost her patience and threw the cup at the spirit. “Get out!”

Furore swatted the cup to the side with her knife, it crashed into the pantry and shattered against the wood. Tea spilled everywhere.

“Sure, sure. Calm your tits.” Furore leaned back in her chair, eyed Fayeth’s chest, and grinned like she had a secret she planned to gossip to everyone about. “They’re really nice, by the way. I thought they’d be saggier than—“

“Get out of my home, leave my daughter alone,” Fayeth said. “I don’t want your help with Leyla. I don’t need your help with Syvis.”

“Okay then. It’s a busy life, filling in for the goddess of love.” Furore rose to her feet, shrugged, then she leaned across the table and extended her wings partly to demonstrate that she would not be ordered around by the likes of her. “When you do realize what you’ve condemned Syvis, Leyla, and yourself to, fall to your knees and beg me for mercy. Beg like you’ve never begged anyone in your life. Put on a show like the human did. You see, if your begging proves inadequate, I’ll at least attend to watch you strip.”

Fayeth stared into the spirit’s evil eyes, stayed silent, and wished Furore would leave without an actual fight. Eventually, she vanished. One second Fayeth stared at the succubus, and the next, she stared at the painting on the wall.

The spirit almost made her regret sleeping with Leyla. The human would die, one day, and likely much sooner than her. Fayeth worried about her daughter too after the visit, but she wasn’t clear on what Furore meant to accomplish by involving Syvis.

Eastward

Nearly two days passed without a longer visit from Fayeth. Even though Leyla would have loved to stay in the ruin and wait for the queen to find a slot in her busy schedule, she should go east. She didn’t care if the rest of Herielas’ procession arrived in Xenthien or not, but if she didn’t, the shackles of Algora would keep her chained in the woods. She would fail to accomplish the goal she’d set for herself.

Besides, she imagined Fayeth would be more open to listening to her problem after they’d been intimate. If the elf blocked her way, Leyla would explain everything. She wouldn’t lie or hide important details. Only boredom awaited her if she delayed her journey too long. Fayeth had to understand.

Sometimes, in moments of ennui, when she dared to be honest with herself, and listen to her heart, she might admit that she felt like a prisoner under Fayeth’s care. A well-treated and cherished prisoner, but a prisoner nonetheless. Not a guest.

She didn’t want to give Fayeth the wrong idea either. She had left home to find freedom. Sex was a distraction, and wistfully, she doubted the elf could love her as an equal. Partly because Fayeth had ruled people as their queen, and partly because no one could compare to someone as incredible as her.

Leyla sure couldn’t. Perhaps she’d return after she’d experienced a few adventures of her own and made a name for herself. If she could carve out her own legend in the world, they may become somewhat close to equals.

Fayeth would outlive her anyway. Leyla could add another decade or two to her twenty odd years, and she would still be nowhere near Fayeth’s age. She’d never heard a thing about a war between humans and elves when she’d grown up in Algora, so who knew how long ago Fayeth had ruled? A decade or two for her might be the equivalent to a week for Leyla. Fayeth wouldn’t miss her presence.

To strengthen her resolve, and commit to her decision, Leyla set out in search of a hill or an open field late one night. She didn’t know how to find east when she couldn’t see the sun from under the canopies of the trees, and truthfully, she hadn’t done a lot better when the sun had shone straight on her forehead in the past either.

But her grandfather had taught her how to navigate with the stars’ assistance. If she could find a certain star, the one which shone the brightest in the night sky, she could find north. If she found north, she found east. Simple.

She should have asked Fayeth for a new sword or knife to defend herself with though. Skulking through the Freow Woods, while its denizens slept, set all her senses on edge. She listened for the quietest sound, jumped whenever a wolf howled in the distance, and stiffened when she crushed branches with her foot.

The forest lay dark, much too dark to see far, but she suspected it might make it easier to slip through the cracks of the queen’s defenses if she left in the middle of the night. If Fayeth had sent someone to watch Leyla, and warn her when she tried to go east, they might be less successful when everyone slept.

Although, Leyla had no proof that anyone watched her. The prickling on her neck could be nothing. She could be thinking up nightmares for no reason.

She walked from tree to tree and wished she’d discover their end. The Freow Woods had to have an area with a good view.

When she’d wandered for an hour or two, Leyla began regretting how she’d decided to wear her armour. It slowed her pace to a crawl in spots where the underbrush grew dense. It became nigh impossible to walk without breaking every twig, bush, and branch she didn’t notice. She caused enough of a ruckus to wake the dead from their slumber, yet she heard nothing except her own ragged breathing when she paused. The wolves had gone silent.

“You can do this,” Leyla said. “You deserve to be free, make your own choices.”

She didn’t convince herself, since her voice sounded too wimpy, but she couldn’t quit. She had one good choice available to her, and a whole slew of bad ones. The path to the future lay somewhere in the middle.

She plowed on ahead and soon heard larger creatures moving farther away in the darkness. If they’d been hungry enough to attack, she would have had to fight them off with branches. Why couldn’t Fayeth have given her permission to go east? Hadn’t she shown that she was different?

If Fayeth had helped her, she wouldn’t have had to struggle every step through this awful forest. She could have journeyed together with the elf to the eastern border of the Freow Woods. They could have bid each other goodbye there, and she would have entered Xenthien alone. She wouldn’t have blamed the elf for her current predicament, or gotten lost like an impudent child who’d run away from the home of their wiser parent, either.

Leyla sighed, slumped forward, and almost stumbled over a rock. If Fayeth had brought Leyla to her real home, introduced her to friends and family, Leyla wouldn’t have felt that she had to pick between freedom and the elf.

Hadn’t she earned a little trust? She sunk to the ground, sat on the rock to rest. Xenthien wouldn’t up and fly away because she didn’t discover east this night. A solitary life in the wild might qualify as a life in freedom.

Little Red

“Oh, Leyla…”

Fayeth discovered her runaway prisoner in a thicket and whistled for the spirit elk. Eina strode out from behind a boulder, and shook his mane, as sunlight bestowed his antlers with a majestic glow. She bowed to her friend, beckoned him closer, and bent down next to Leyla. The girl breathed, looked uninjured, so she’d probably exhausted herself in the darkness before falling asleep.

She shouldn’t be negligent with Leyla’s life though. If the girl had stumbled across the wrong spirit or beast, it would have torn her asunder.

Eina brushed his velvety muzzle against Fayeth’s shoulder and kneeled next to them. She bowed again, grateful that he agreed to carry both her and a human. He showed her greater kindness than she deserved.

To wake Leyla, she undid the leather flask from the belt at her hip, lifted it to her lover’s lips, and smiled to herself as she recalled their previous kisses. Why had Leyla left the ruin in armour? What had she thought she would achieve by wandering the woods late at night?

Fayeth would always find her. A human or two may slip through their defenses, but not Leyla. Never Leyla. If she wanted to leave, she would have to ask first, and then Fayeth would bring her west. They would have a proper goodbye there.

She parted the girl’s lips by pressing the flask against them. Leyla stirred, her eyelids flickered, and Fayeth poured a few drops to drink. She withheld most of the liquid until she saw Leyla swallowing.

She was about to give her more to drink, but Leyla opened her eyes. Fayeth hadn’t expected to find animosity in her lover’s gaze, but thankfully, it faded as soon as Leyla recognized her saviour.

“Why are you sleeping outside, silly?” Fayeth asked. “You could’ve gotten eaten or stepped on.”

“I obviously didn’t plan to fall asleep…”

“What was your plan then?” Fayeth played with her black hair and regretted asking the question before she’d even gotten an answer. She had an idea what Leyla may have wished to do.

“I need to go east. I told you, but you didn’t give me a chance to explain.” Leyla sat up in the thicket, removed the twigs which clung to her armour, and shrugged at the offer for more to drink. “If you’ll listen, I’ll—“

“No.” Fayeth said, refastened the flask to her belt, and stood. “You won’t have my permission to go east. If you dislike my company so badly you can’t stand a week in the ruin, we can say our goodbyes today. And I’ll bring you west. With Eina’s help, you can exit the Freow Woods by nightfall.”

Leyla stared at her boots without a word. Fayeth extended a hand to help her get up, but she didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

“If this is supposed to be passive resistance, I must give you credit. No human has tried it before in your history, I imagine,” she said. “Although, if you’re not careful, you’ll let it get to your head and think you invented it.”

“Why can’t I go east? Why won’t you listen?” Leyla sounded dejected. “I thought we liked each other.”

Fayeth shifted uncomfortably on the spot, maybe she didn’t understand humans. Leyla’s questions cut deeper than they should have. Regardless, she couldn’t disobey the dead. She owed them lifelong debts.

“You can’t go east, and you won’t go west.” Fayeth almost patted Leyla on the head to comfort her, but thought better of it and crossed her arms. “Why aren’t you going north or south? Pick one of them, I’ll get you there myself.”

“Nothing there,” Leyla said. “You’re giving me a choice between freezing or starving to death.”

“There used to be.” Fayeth shuddered as a chilly wind tore at her emerald dress. She wished she could make Leyla happy, somehow. If the human didn’t mention freezing or starving to death again, she would bring her south to the coast. “We had a city.”

“Where?”

“To the south. We…” Fayeth didn’t like to think about her failures. “There’s nothing there today, because of a god who sided with you humans, but elves… We…”

Leyla rose to her feet and hugged Fayeth. She hadn’t thought she’d looked solemn enough to warrant a hug, but she appreciated it.

“If I go south, and prove that I can’t survive in those wastelands, will you bring me east next?” Leyla slipped a hand under Fayeth’s dress and made her best attempt at convincing her with gentle touches.

Fayeth cherished Leyla’s fingers on her skin while the touching lasted, but she suspected the girl would despise her when she responded. Still, she didn’t have to rush to tell her lover no again.

Leyla kissed her on the cheek, on her lips, and slid her hand between her legs. Fayeth waited with a restrained eagerness for Leyla to take her in the middle of the thicket. If Eina hadn’t blowed air through his muzzle, she would have forgotten him.

“I’m sorry,” Fayeth said, rested her chin on Leyla’s shoulder, and pushed her body against the girl’s hand. “Please, don’t get mad. It’s out of my control.” She trapped Leyla’s hand between her thighs when the girl tried to remove it. “Please, don’t…”

“You would sooner kill me yourself than allow me to travel wherever I want, wouldn’t you?” Leyla chewed on Fayeth’s lower lip in an angry kiss. “I’m your captive, aren’t I?”

“You’re free to go anywhere, except east, and wherever there are elven villages. I’m keeping an eye on you, but you’re not my captive,” Fayeth said. “You’re more of a concubine.”

“You think of me as your sex slave?” Leyla snorted. “I might pick you today, Fayeth, for a week, or perhaps a month, but I’d rather become as notorious as my grandfather, who once lived a life of piracy, than live in your shadow.”

Eina bumped his antlers into Fayeth’s side.

“Let’s return to the ruin, for now. I brought you food.” She released Leyla’s hand by separating her thighs. “We can do more on a bed than on the ground.”

“I’m going east, one day,” Leyla said.

Fayeth sighed, turned to Eina, and climbed onto his back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leyla reach for something that might have hung at her side. Leyla must have dropped it when she’d slept in the middle of a thicket.

“Did you lose something?” Fayeth patted a spot on Eina’s back where Leyla could sit. The spirit could carry them both, even if the girl wore armour.

“My sword,” Leyla said and stared at the elk before she dared to approach.

“I haven’t seen it.”

“I didn’t lose it today.” Leyla mounted the elk. “You won’t give me a weapon, even if I make you scream my name, will you?”

“If you go south, I will outfit you with proper equipment.”

Eina grunted and rose slowly. Fayeth scooted forwards, wrapped her arms around Leyla’s waist, and pushed her heels into Eina’s sides to make him move. A ride through the forest at a comfortable pace could be nice. Leyla wasn’t used to the spirit’s speeds, and might hurl if they rode too fast.

“I fear I’ll end up another corpse, if I brave the south.” Leyla turned her head to wink at Fayeth. “I don’t want to be done with you yet.”

“Irresistible charm isn’t going to alter the demand I have to obey.”

“We both know how this ends, don’t we?”

Fayeth didn’t want to accept Leyla’s stubbornness, so she didn’t respond. If she had, they would likely have argued, and she would have had to concede that while she could force the humans’ caravan to retreat, someone would have to kill Leyla to stop her from going east.

If Leyla forced her hand, she would tie her up and bring her to the coast. It might turn into a romantic getaway, and not a depressive retreading of old ground like she feared.

Enslaved

The elk strolled at a leisurely pace, while birds chirped on branches, and frogs fled in terror from his hooves. It irked Leyla when Eina strode straight past an open field of wetland on their way to the ruin. How could she have missed it?

The field was as large as any meadow. If she’d walked past it last night, she would have gotten a bead on north and east. She would have seen the stars. Most of all, she would have escaped Fayeth.

She liked the elf, more than she’d thought she could like another person, but she didn’t want to be her prisoner. When Fayeth had referred to her as a concubine, she’d laughed it off, yet the longer the comment lingered in her mind, the deeper its roots grew.

How dare Fayeth call her a concubine? It implied she was a prostitute with low standards, since a ruler would often keep several concubines at once. If Fayeth thought she could have her fun with her, add another ten to a harem, and still retain Leyla’s interest, she needed a reality check.

Leyla would never, not once, have called Fayeth a self-pitying tyrant with an insane grudge towards humans who had done nothing to her kind. Sure, Leyla’s distant ancestors, all of which now rested in their graves, may have wiped Fayeth’s people out, but no living human had participated in the war. It hadn’t been recorded in Algora’s history books. Or if it had, it had happened so long ago that it had been lost to the annals of history.

Perhaps Leyla’s people hadn’t known how to write back then. Perhaps they’d been half-wits or cavemen.

“How old are you?” Leyla asked, and pushed a branch aside when the elk strayed too close to a tree.

“It’s inconsiderate to ask an elf their age.” Fayeth blew air at the back of her neck and begun to braid her hair.

“Humour me?” Leyla leaned backwards against her lover, her captor. “I’d like to know everything there is to know about you, you intrigue me.”

“Thanks. I…” Fayeth counted in her own language under her breath and worked Leyla’s hair into a braid, even though it wasn’t very long.

The elk left the wetland behind, the elf’s counting went on. Leyla could see signs of her fight against nature here and there in the terrain, where it looked like someone had fallen over, or crushed some poor animal’s den.

“Somewhere between two-thousand five-hundred and three-thousand years old,” Fayeth said. “I’d like to give you a better estimate, or a way to compare it to human years, but I’m not sure how much your culture has changed.”

Leyla sat baffled, unsure of how to comprehend such an immense time span. Empires would have risen and fallen in the years Fayeth had lived.

“Wow, you’re…”

“A hundred times as old as you?” Fayeth laughed, finished one braid, and grabbed another handful of Leyla’s hair.

“Yes.” Leyla nodded. “How long ago did the war between humans and elves occur?”

“A thousand years, give or take. My daughter is a young elf, and I got pregnant with her towards the end of it. I…” Fayeth trailed off, focused on her braiding.

“You have a daughter?”

“Ah…” Fayeth paused. “I do. Her name is Syvis.”

“Is she as attractive as her mother?”

Fayeth tugged hard on Leyla’s braid and flicked her ear. She did not take the remark in jest. “If you mention my daughter in the same context again, in my presence, I’ll turn evil. I’ll gag you and chain you up in my bedroom. You’ll realize the difference between being a sex slave and being a concubine then.”

“It was a joke.”

“And I drew a line. I have my boundaries, you can have yours.” Fayeth dropped her hair, left a braid half-finished. “I’m sorry. If you had a daughter or son, you’d understand how you don’t want to hear dirty jokes about them.”

“Don’t fret it,” Leyla said. “…Fayeth, do you suppose a human could become your equal in elven society?”

Fayeth snorted, a telling answer by itself. “Hypothetically? Maybe, but I don’t know what would make elves accept a human like they accept each other. In reality, no, I don’t think it’s possible, Leyla. A human would have to perform an extraordinary feat for elves. And you don’t live long lives. You have a clear disadvantage.”

“But I…”

Honesty hurt worse than it should have. When she left to travel east, she would have no reason to visit Fayeth again. It would be farewell for good. If she couldn’t become Fayeth’s equal, in spite of her actions in life, they could not have a relationship.

They did not speak for the remainder of the ride. Fayeth tried to initiate conversation, every now and again, but Leyla didn’t want to get attached. She preferred to stomp out whatever flame existed between their hearts before it left permanent burn scars.

She felt cold when they arrived outside of the familiar ruin, and not because of the weather since the sun shone. She slid off the elk, raised her hand in a nonchalant wave to Fayeth, and headed towards the entrance of her temporary home.

Fayeth missed the hint however, followed her with light footsteps, and forced Leyla to address the issue.

“Fayeth, you’re an intriguing individual, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but…” She should tell the truth. That they had no good reason to act like they did around each other, because they would never be equals, and Fayeth would not tolerate Leyla enjoying true freedom in her forest. “But I need time alone.”

“Oh? Should I visit you later? This evening? Middle of the night? Early tomorrow morning?”

“No.”

“Right, well then. If that’s what you wish…” Fayeth’s voice cracked. “I’ll keep an eye on you, and I’ll bring food again when you run low. Don’t get lost in the woods, dear. I’d hate for misfortune to befall you. You could’ve died last night.”

Fayeth mounted the elk to ride off, but Leyla refused to watch her leave. She went inside the ruin to eat and rest. The best possible outcome between the two of them would never amount to more than a fair distance.

Rejection

Fayeth reclined in one of the many wicker chairs, with her legs stretched out onto a second chair, on the elven balcony far above her home and the walkways. Piles of leaves on the floor gave the impression that no one had taken care of the balcony as they should have. If anyone in the village had still respected her, she would have asked someone to clean up the mess, and trim the branches which had grown too wild.

Since no one respected her anymore though, she didn’t. She knew she could have fetched a broom and swept the leaves of the balcony herself, but she didn’t do that either. It was a hassle when all she longed to do was to drink pixie cider in pleasant company.

Sadly, these days the only pleasant company she had was herself. She pondered fetching a mirror as she drank another hearty gulp of the tingling alcohol, but she imagined it would have been depressing to watch herself get drunk alone, so she didn’t.

“Least I still have you,” she said to the five brown glass bottles she’d placed on the table. “And you…” She glanced down at another five bottles by the legs of her chair. She’d emptied Syvis’ storage.

The bottles did not respond. They silently judged her as she downed the contents of her second.

She heard someone coming up the stairs to the balcony, and recognized the sound of their footsteps, but she didn’t care if they found her in this state. She uncorked her third bottle.

“Mother, the humans…” Syvis stepped onto the balcony, paused when she saw Fayeth with the bottles, and raised a hand in disbelief. “By the spirits… What is wrong with you?”

“Watch the language, Syvis,” Fayeth said and downed a fourth of her third bottle’s content. “Younglings, think they can push you around from the day they’re born till the day you die.”

“I can hear you. You’re louder than you think.” Syvis had strapped her longbow to her back, and a strange shine surrounded her, so she might have been hunting, mating, or something. Whatever. Fayeth didn’t care as long as Furore didn’t lay her hands on her.

“I hear you too, child,” Fayeth said. “I see you’ve been intimate with pixies? Glowy, shiny dust clings to your—“

“That’s the cider, mother. I’ve not been intimate with pixies, lately. If I had, it would be none of your business.” Syvis shook her head, sighed, and came closer. “As I was saying, we’ve hindered the humans from going further east. My friend... I mean, Atrin swears on their honour that they’ve blocked the road. If the humans try their luck in the wild before beating a retreat, they will get lost, slain, or eaten by bears.”

“Bears…” Fayeth groaned. “And who is your friend in Atrin?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Syvis pulled out a chair on the other side of Fayeth’s table and grabbed one of the bottles. “I have dozens of friends. I’m lots more social than you.”

“This friend who brought you the message about the humans.” Fayeth waved the bottle in her hand in Syvis’ general direction. “Who is he? Is he a pix—“

“Who said it was a he?” Syvis uncorked the bottle, and sipped the alcohol with a dismissive shrug and a smile she failed to conceal. “He could be a woman. I have more female friends, as any good daughter with an overprotective mother should.”

Fayeth searched Syvis’ face for signs of the truth, like she’d be stupid enough to tattoo it on her skin. Syvis hid behind the bottle in her hand.

“Women are worse than men,” Fayeth said. “They only want to fuck you.”

“Uh…” A blush came to Syvis cheeks. “How about those humans, huh? Good thing they’ve finally been driven on the run. So good.”

Fayeth stared at nothing, gripped her bottle with both hands, and sat silent. Syvis seemed to wait for a response, but received none. Eventually, she coughed to shake the silence.

“Humans are a plague,” Fayeth said and drank. She couldn’t resist the undeniable urge to complain to someone, even if they wouldn’t get it. “They’re headstrong, disgustingly charming, and well built.”

“You, um…” Syvis furrowed her brow. “You sure that’s your problem with humans, mother? Haven’t you forgotten something?”

Fayeth thought. “Oh, yes.” And drank. “They only live for like a hundred years, which is such a pathetically short time for anyone to live. It’s ridiculous. The gods favour them over us, yet their lifespans are worse than mayflies. When you get attached to one of them, you’ll always be reminded of how they’re going to die in like a year. So forget it.”

Syvis narrowed her eyes at her mother and dangled the bottle under her own chin. “Go on…?”

“I’m not going to waste a hundred year worrying about some girl who thinks she’s worth more to me than those I’ve lost.” Fayeth kicked the chair she rested her legs on, and drank. “She’ll join them soon anyway, so why expend the effort… If she thinks she’ll get my permission by getting me to like her, she’s wrong. I’m not a whore who’ll sell her country for sex.”

Syvis narrowed her eyes further and further with each sentence that slipped from Fayeth’s loose tongue. She looked at the pixie cider in her hand, sniffed its content, and put the cork back before placing the bottle on the table.

“Is this a specific girl you’ve met…? Recently, perhaps?”

“No.” Fayeth scoffed. “I’m talking in generalities, about humans in general. Silly. I don’t know humans, personally, but you know what they are like.” She sighed, hopelessly, and threw the empty bottle over her shoulder, so it went sailing off the railing of the balcony. “Too squishy and frail for their own good. Very soft to touch, especially down there between—“

“Enough! I’ve heard enough!” Syvis leapt to her feet and collected all of the bottles in a rush before Fayeth could grab a fourth. “I don’t care who you do the deed with, or if your standards has hit rock bottom, but don’t brag to me about it afterwards.”

Fayeth rolled her eyes. She didn’t need two young women thinking they could tell her how to act, when she was much older than both of them combined.

Syvis jogged over to the staircase leading out of the balcony, carried the bottles in her arms, and took her first step down before pausing. “I’m not half-human, right? Please. Tell me I’m not.”

“I’ve told nothing but the truth about your father.”

“Thank the gods.” Syvis exhaled in relief. “I don’t know what I would have done, if… If you’d… You know. It would have brought me intense shame for a lifetime. I might have killed myself.”

Fayeth stumbled to her feet with the support of the furniture, glared at her daughter, and frowned. “Don’t drink if you’re going to get in one of your moods, Syvis.”

Syvis gasped, her eyes went wide, and she stomped down the stairs. Yet she didn’t get far before she decided to stomp back up and face her mother with a rebellious glare.

“I’ve had a relationship with Nimue for two years! We’ve met in secret!”

Fayeth tried to recall the elf in question, but she failed. She didn’t know them. Maybe she couldn’t recall who they were because she’d been drinking a bit. She wasn’t certain if they were male or female either. Nimue struck her as a fairly gender-neutral name.

“I’ve no idea who they are.” Fayeth shivered as a tingling sensation surged through her limbs. The shine clinging to Syvis aura increased tenfold. “It’s an elf, right? Not some freaky spirit or what have you? I don’t know what you younglings are attracted to these days.”

“I’m not going to let you come between our love!” Syvis grabbed one of the bottles in her arms, hurled it at Fayeth’s head, missed, and dropped a few of them on the stairs with loud crashes.

Fayeth might have asked her daughter if she could introduce her to Nimue, but Syvis fled so quickly she didn’t get a chance. She wasn’t about to try to run and catch up in her current state either. If she fell out of the balcony, over the railing, she would break several bones. She promised herself to remember the detail for a later date. Syvis had a relationship with someone named Nimue. Whoever they were.

Demonic Inclination

Two fat cockroaches crawled in the hay around Leyla’s knees. Her arms hung stretched out along her sides, attached with iron chains to the stone walls. Torches flickered in their sconces. The dungeon didn’t frighten her until someone emptied a bucket of water over her head, and she had to fight to breathe.

“D’you think every elf would view you as worth their time?” A woman asked and kicked hay in her face. “D’you think the elves living in the Freow Woods today would spare you, if your paths crossed?”

Leyla raised her head to look at her tormentor. A dark-skinned elf, with a ponytail, dressed in tight leather clothing stared back at her with a grin and ran her nails across the whip coiled on her hip.

Along the walls stood a number of different torture devices with spikes, chains, and cranks worked into their design in impossible ways. Some of them would only ever be functional in a nightmare.

“Who are you?”

“Furore. We’ve met once, before, but you couldn’t tell the difference between a faun and a dryad, so I don’t expect you to realize when you’re in the company of a goddess.” Furore unhooked the whip from her belt and began to roll it out in the hay on the floor. “You’ve made my job more difficult than it needed to be, Leyla.”

“You’re the spirit who’s been giving me lifelike dreams, aren’t you?”

“It appears Fayeth don’t value intelligence. Aren’t we lucky?” Furore swung the whip above her and flicked it at Leyla.

She winced, yet the whip didn’t hit. It struck the void next to her ear.

“What do you want? I’ve no quarrel with you!”

“Do be braver than that, darling, or you’re not going to survive the final act. You’ve made my new job difficult, so I figured I’d give you a dose of reality.” Furore pointed at the nightmarish devices and contraptions around them. “Aren’t you happy Fayeth hasn’t tortured you for information, or chained you up in the ruins of a prison? Don’t you think the elves had those? Show some gratitude.”

“Are you saying Fayeth used to lock up humans she took prisoner?” Leyla tugged on her chains but her arms didn’t come free.

“Sure she did! Why wouldn’t she have! I would have done the exact same in her shoes,” Furore said. “She must have changed a lot since the war, I reckon. She’s got no reason to not slit your throat.”

“Or treat me like a worthless slave only useful for torture or personal pleasure?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Furore swung the whip at Leyla again. It left a tear across the shirt she wore, but didn’t impact with her torso. “Fayeth could treat you like less than dirt, but she’s feeding you, sharing her body, and slowly developing feelings for a human. Don’t you think you ought to reward her with loyalty in turn? Freedom isn’t all it’s propped up to be. Trust me, darling.”

“Let me get this straight,” Leyla said and straightened her legs. “You’re saying that if Fayeth hadn’t had a spontaneous change of heart somewhere over the past centuries, I would have lost my freedom the moment we met? In that case, what’s stopping her from having another change of heart if I infuriate her one day?”

“Nothing.” Furore shrugged.

“Exactly.” Leyla nodded.

Furore raised her hand to swing the whip again, paused, and considered what Leyla had just said.

“Wait, no.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit, I can never tell if you humans are intelligent or not. I’m trying to teach you to appreciate what you have and not chase fairytales of freedom.”

“This is the weirdest, most mislead method you could have chosen.” Leyla cast her gaze around the dungeon. “You could have scared someone half to death.”

“It’s not my worst transgression in the weeks since I became the goddess of love…” Furore sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Things were easier when I was just the hung succubus.”

“I...” Leyla chose not to ask questions, even though she had a few.

“I wanted to give you a different perspective.” Furore attached the whip to her belt and pointed at the chains attached to Leyla’s arms. They clattered to the ground and freed her from her uncomfortable position. “Fayeth is not as bad as she could be. Take my word for it. I’m not alive in the sense that you two are, but I’ve existed since the beginning of your realm.”

Leyla nursed her wrists. “If the elves had won the war, do you think they would have been kind to humanity? All of my ancestors would have become their slaves. I would never have known the excuse for freedom I had in Algora. And that’s assuming they wouldn’t have tried to wipe us out entirely, because that’s what we did to them.”

Furore voiced her chagrin in the most drawn out, exaggerated sigh Leyla had heard in her life. “Oh, you are all so impressively, pointlessly stubborn… Fine, have it your way.” The dark-skinned elf raised both of her hands in front of her and showed the palms to Leyla. In her right hand laid a pink gem in the shape of a heart, and in the left laid the same, except it had been shattered into a dozen glimmering shards. “I’ll break off our deal, if that is your desire. As an apology, I’ll even try to ensure you get the freedom you chase. Fayeth won’t know what happened to you, and you likely won’t see her again in your life.”

“What’s the catch?” Leyla asked.

“No catch,” Furore said. “I fake your death, put you back on the road, and convince Fayeth you died. If you’re fast, sneaky, you’ll get to Xenthien without the former queen becoming wise of our ruse.”

“But you don’t get anything, so why would I trust you?”

Furore laughed like someone possessed by a demon. “Darling, I get more than anyone. I get the most. I get rid of both of you. I should have taken the time to understand my new position, but I rushed into it. Clearly, you two will never get along. So why would I waste another day on trying to make true love happen here?”

Leyla didn’t trust the spirit, but she didn’t have a better choice. If Furore told the truth, she offered an opportunity to outsmart Fayeth. She could escape. She ignored whatever her heart may feel about Fayeth and pointed at the shattered pink gem.

“I’ll get right on faking your death, darling.” Furore grinned.

Death of Innocence

“I know you dislike my company, for your own reasons, but I brought a rare drink which no human has tasted.” Fayeth peeked into the ruin where Leyla stayed, but saw no sign of her. The bed and the table looked too messy for someone who liked to clean. The girl must have run off again.

If only Leyla would tell her when she decided to go and get lost in the woods, Fayeth wouldn’t have to waste time worrying about her. They could wander together. She knew the best places to visit. No area in the Freow Woods remained unknown to her.

She placed the basket with pixie cider and elven bread on the floor. She’d fetch Leyla, so they could get drunk together. Syvis was no fun to drink with. She got too serious whenever she got drunk. Fayeth remembered several events in the past where her daughter had had too much, and afterwards, Syvis had sat in treetops and sulked.

She searched the grass outside of Leyla’s temporary home for clues as to where the girl could have gone. Thanks to the armour she liked to trudge around in, it was easy to locate her trail. Fayeth only needed to follow the steps which sunk deeper into the dirt than any animal’s.

The trail lead north, deep into the forest. Leyla had walked practically the same path a couple of days ago, when Fayeth had found her sleeping outside, so she either had a terrible sense of direction, or she must have had a reason to go north again.

Maybe she’d listened to Fayeth and accepted that she could not go east. Fayeth would have preferred if Leyla had gone south, but then, it was very likely the girl had mistaken north for south. Good thing no one had ever taught her how to navigate.

If Leyla hadn’t been such a stubborn mule, Fayeth would have taught her herself. She would have shown her how moss mostly grew on the north side of trees. Unfortunately, she felt more at ease when Leyla had no idea how to get anywhere. She didn’t risk angering the dead if her pet human couldn’t locate her way out of a thicket.

Fayeth couldn’t shake a bad, nagging hunch that something had gone wrong when Leyla’s trail veered off towards the wetland. She should have told her to steer clear off the area, since it was difficult to tell how deep certain parts were. The worst holes could swallow the girl, if she put her foot wrong. Leyla was far too heavy in her armour to go traipsing in the vicinity of treacherous waters.

When Fayeth reached the wetland, the sun stood at its zenith on the sky. She didn’t have to search for the girl. Leyla laid face down a few meters from the safety of the tree line. The sunlight caused the water on the field to sparkle, but Fayeth only had eyes for the light reflected in Leyla’s banged up armour. She didn’t realize she’d waded straight into the wetland before she kneeled next to her lover to check for a pulse.

Leyla did not breathe, because of course she didn’t. Fayeth suppressed the tears, and the familiar grief, which the knowledge brought. In a sick sense, she supposed she should be grateful she’d predicted this outcome. She hadn’t gotten swept up in the girl’s wake. She’d treated Leyla with kindness and respect during the brief time they’d shared.

If she’d been younger or unused to death, Leyla’s drowning might have struck her like the vengeance of a slighted god. Instead, serenity devoid of emotion claimed her mind. Humans were frail and short-lived. That would always remain an uncontestable fact, regardless of how long her lover might have lived in the end.

If she’d loved Leyla, as a partner, she would have had to watch her wither and fade soon. It had to be easier when she passed quickly like this.

Since she couldn’t carry Leyla in her armour, Fayeth straightened the girl’s black hair, shut her eyes, and waded back towards the tree line. Frogs leapt out of her path. She left the sweet girl without arguing with the god of death, but considered begging Furore to restore Leyla to life. She decided against it because she feared the succubus would ask for Syvis in return, if the spirit even had the power to resurrect someone.

No, Furore couldn’t help. No one could. Leyla had died, sooner than expected, but Fayeth couldn’t blame anyone else than herself. She’d driven another person she liked into an early grave.

Wayward Woman

Furore kept her promise. The spirit returned Leyla to the road leading from Algora to Xenthien, and even went as far as to point out which way to go. Leyla might have gotten turned around without her help, since she couldn’t tell whether to go right or left. The road ran in a straight line.

She didn’t inquire as to how the spirit would fake her death, or see if she actually did, but she traveled for three days before encountering anyone and took that as proof that Fayeth did not know where she was. If the elf had known, she would have stopped her.

The six humans she encountered were a little older than her and looked like soldiers from Herielas’ procession. Leyla recognized their faces, yet couldn’t recall their names. They all appeared weary and beaten, and it made her hesitate about continuing east. Whatever awaited her there could not be beneficial for her health, if it had forced these six to retreat.

“Greetings, I—“

“Going the wrong way, girlie,” a man with a rugged exterior, and bent nose, said. The others nodded in agreement, but none of them seemed to remember her without her armour.

Furore had convinced Leyla to leave it behind because she’d be able to travel faster in plain clothes. She’d argued the point, but ditched the armour in the end because she suspected the spirit planned to use it as part of her ruse to make Fayeth believe she’d died.

“Have you faced resistance?” Leyla asked, as they passed each other.

“Plenty of it!” The rugged man said. “We heading back to inform the king. You should steer clear of the east. Only trouble there.”

Leyla might have liked to ask more questions, but since they walked opposite directions, they would have had to start screaming to hear each other. Either way, she would stop for nothing. The magic of the Freow Woods wouldn’t get her to retreat, nor would any elf. No matter what tactics they might use.

She marched on, and only slowed her pace to gather edible berries, mushrooms, or water once in a while. Her thoughts drifted, tedium claimed them, and she began to reminisce about the hours she’d spent with Fayeth. A small part of her knew it was a stupid thing to do, but she chose not to listen to it. She had to do something to amuse herself during the long journey.

And thinking about her bath with Fayeth in the elven spring restored some of her energy. The queen had such an exquisite figure. Leyla wished to have Fayeth by her side, if only so they could have entertained each other when they grew bored of marching. She would have loved to ask Fayeth questions about her past.

Nevertheless, they would not meet again. She’d accepted that when Furore had brought her to the road. If she did meet Fayeth, the spirit would have failed her. Fayeth didn’t want Leyla to travel to Xenthien.

Or, to be fair, she didn’t want her to break the laws of her home. Leyla supposed Fayeth wasn’t wrong, but if she had to become a criminal to be free, she would become a criminal.

Although, she had to admit to herself that she would have preferred a less cowardly method to achieve her goals. It seemed callous to fake her own death, especially when Fayeth carried enough souls on her narrow shoulders. Poor elf.

She wondered if Fayeth had cried over her, like she’d cried over her own people, and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. Leyla recalled Fayeth crying in her embrace and how she had promised to be her champion, fight dragons for her, yet now she fled with her tail between her legs.

She’d told herself that she didn’t want to give Fayeth the wrong idea about the two of them, and it had become one reason to raise her walls, but she’d already said so much more in their shared dreams. She’d held the elf close and consoled her. They’d promised each other the world with their kisses.

Her grandfather may have instilled her with hopes of freedom, but he’d abandoned it himself to become a decent man. Leyla doubted he looked down on her with pride today. The old guy might have been proud of her for bedding an elf, a queen no less, but he would have scolded her for abandoning Fayeth in the manner she had.

Her behaviour had transformed her into a coward. Furore had stolen her spine. She couldn’t deny it to herself, yet she hated to accept it as an aspect of her personality. If Leyla had ever truly hoped to become Fayeth’s equal, and return to the elf’s side in the future, she squandered that dream beyond redemption with each step she took.

She didn’t deserve someone as good as Fayeth. She may as well retrace her steps and return to the elf this moment. Perhaps if she apologized and groveled, Fayeth would show her mercy. Perhaps Leyla didn’t care if she made it further east than the Freow Woods. Perhaps every relationship meant giving up a little freedom in exchange for love.

If she arrived in Xenthien, Leyla would be on her own, and there was a chance no one would hire her as a mercenary. She’d lost both her armour and sword. She didn’t have more than a few gold coins in her pocket. At this point, she was a lost cause.

Leyla kept walking, not because she wanted to get farther away from Fayeth, but because she swore the spirit had tricked her into this. And she wanted to beat Furore. How could she have been dumb enough to surrender everything except the clothes on her back?

She fantasized about making Fayeth laugh again, and tried to recall the exact sound of her laughter. She longed to see Fayeth as happy as she’d seemed in the beginning. No one had behaved like Fayeth around her before. Leyla had thought herself plain, or unattractive, until she’d met the striking elf.

“I’m a fool…”

No response, no one was anywhere near, yet she almost shouted Fayeth’s name at the top of her lungs. Perhaps that would have brought the incredible queen to her side.

Woodland Fairytale

“Mother, this is Nimue. Nimue, this is Fayeth.” Syvis introduced them to each other by the road the humans had claimed for themselves. Tsarra and Atrin lay on opposite sides.

“The pleasure is mine.” Nimue placed their right hand on the chest of their leather tunic, bowed to her as someone might bow to a queen, and offered a polite smile.

Despite meeting this elf in the flesh, Fayeth still couldn’t tell whether they were male or female. Nimue might be described as handsome, though their blend of feminine and masculine features neutralized each other and made it impossible to guess their gender. Their voice didn’t clarify a thing either.

“Are you a man or what?” Fayeth raised the bottle of pixie cider in her hand to drink.

Syvis slapped her palm over her face and screamed into her hand. “Let’s pretend this meeting never happened,” she said, pulled Nimue away by their arm, and knocked Fayeth’s bottle out of her grasp, so it fell and cracked against a rock. “I don’t know where she keeps finding these bottles. Never told her where I hid them.”

“Syvis.” Nimue removed her hand from their arm and looked into Syvis’ eyes with a tenderness Fayeth could appreciate in a potential match for her daughter. “Your mother hasn’t insulted me. I can handle myself. We haven’t gotten a chance to get to know each other yet, so give us time.”

“Fine.” Syvis crossed and uncrossed her arms before she settled for tugging on her hair. “Can’t wait to watch this disaster unfold.”

Nimue turned to Fayeth and bowed again. “I’d hate to disrespect the queen of peace, when I do have noble intentions with your daughter. I’m a man. I hope to sire children one day.”

Fayeth had been called dozens of names after her failures as queen, ranging from the insulting to the degrading, but she’d never been called the queen of peace by anyone. “You plan to have children with my daughter?”

“I do.” Nimue nodded. “With your approval, of course.”

“We don’t need her approval!” Syvis stomped her foot on the road and tugged on her hair until Nimue put a stop to the self-destructive behaviour.

Syvis was correct. They didn’t need to ask for her approval to have children. Besides, Fayeth didn’t want to imagine what would happen if she refused to give it.

“Why did you call me the queen of peace?” Fayeth asked and steered the topic away from children.

“Yes, why? Do explain.” Syvis frowned.

“If it hadn’t been for Fayeth’s wise choices in a difficult era, elves may have perished on the sword of humanity,” Nimue said. “We may not be what we once were, but we live on.”

Fayeth didn’t agree with him. His stance struck her as too pragmatic. “Are you sucking up to me to gain my approval?”

“Absolutely.” Nimue chuckled. “But I think it’s true regardless. Another golden age for elves will come. We were here long before humanity, and we’ll be here long after. Thanks, in no small part, to you.”

“Is this why you were eager to meet my mother? So you could flirt with her!” Syvis growled. “I’m standing right here, Nimue. I hear the tone you’re using.”

“I think you’re mistaken, but you have my approval.” Fayeth retrieved the leather flask on her belt which she’d filled with pixie cider instead of water when Syvis hadn’t been around, and pushed it into Nimue’s hand. “How about you prove me wrong? Surely, this dream of yours starts with new elves.”

Nimue blushed, bowed to her in a rush, and clutched the flask like a precious heirloom. “As you say, Fayeth.”

“Meeting you was my pleasure.” Fayeth stepped away from the couple. “We’ll have to meet again, when I’m feeling like myself. For now, I ask that you excuse me. I want to have a look at this blockade your village erected.”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself?” Nimue asked. “The humans remain in the area.”

“Don’t underestimate my mother.” Syvis grabbed his arm and dragged him into the forest on the south side of the road. “She can tame every human she meets.”

Fayeth didn’t hear Nimue’s response, and though she tried to feel happy for her daughter, her thoughts soon refocused on everyone she’d lost. She didn’t need some young whelp telling her she’d made the right choices. She could respect Nimue for his honesty, but she had a suspicion his relationship with her daughter wouldn’t last unless she fell to her knees and begged Furore to handle Syvis’ love life too. She hadn’t forgotten what the succubus had told her in their kitchen. She’d just not understood the full extent of her words earlier.

Furore was the new goddess of love. The old wouldn’t resurface.

Regardless, Fayeth found it difficult to care about love at all. She envied Syvis’ happiness. Why did the gods want her miserable? Why couldn’t the dead have told her to grant Leyla passage?

Her body yearned for the powerful arms which had held her, and had done so every hour of the last three days since she’d found Leyla drowned. Fayeth would never rest in the girl’s embrace again, yet her brain wouldn’t cease its torture of her skin. She’d been happy for the first time in forever, and she wouldn’t forget it soon.

If she could have rewound time, she would have packed her belongings, told Leyla she loved her, and gone wherever the girl wanted to travel. Fayeth could have left the elves in the past and explored the world with her new lover. They could have visited faraway lands neither of them had heard about before.

She’d committed a mistake when she’d denied Leyla’s request. The dead shouldn’t get to make demands of the living. They should move on into the afterlife, rest, and find the peace the gods denied the living.

Fleeting

“Do you have regrets?” Furore, dressed in full steel armour and helmet, appeared next to her. She looked exactly the same as she’d done when they’d first met. It couldn’t have been a little more than a week since that fateful meeting, yet it felt longer.

“Could you give me my armour?” Leyla sighed. “My sword?”

“Oof, you only regret losing the worthless possessions the king of Algora lent you?” Furore crossed her arms behind her head and started skipping backward. Apparently, the armour the spirit wore didn’t encumber her. “I thought you missed a particular someone. Someone, you want to touch and kiss.”

“I do miss Fayeth,” Leyla said it out loud, and that only made her miss the elf more.

“Mhm.” Furore nodded. “I could smell love leaking out of a broken heart. Such a bittersweet scent, and it’s up to me to decide what to do with it.” The spirit stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air. “Huh, that is the smell of love, isn’t it? I was wondering why some mortals smelled different, lately. It’s not a lack of sex.”

Leyla walked past the spirit, glanced over her shoulder, and considered asking Furore to bring her in front of Fayeth. The queen should get a chance to judge her for her crimes, even if they only amounted to cowardice and stupidity.

“Wait!” Furore snapped back to reality and pointed at Leyla. “I have two questions for you that need answers this instant.”

“Feel free to…” Leyla stiffened as the spirit reappeared right behind her and placed her gloved hands on her shoulders. Furore hadn’t made any effort to hide that she could move several meters without being seen.

“Don’t focus on me.” Furore squeezed her shoulders. “Focus on the road.”

Leyla did as she was told, but noticed nothing out of the usual. She’d stared at the road for days on end, and despite how she knew she walked toward Xenthien, the road always looked the same. The trees grew tall on both sides. No animals or birds ever seemed to exist until she stepped into the underbrush.

“Would you risk your life for Fayeth?” Furore gripped Leyla’s chin to keep her head straight when she bored of staring at the road.

The change in the environment was subtle. She thought they moved forward, slowly, yet her legs did not walk. It looked more like the trees started moving in the opposite direction, like she and the spirit slid along the ground.

“If Fayeth needed me to shield her from danger, I would, but she’s capable enough on her own.”

“Irrelevant, in her current state,” Furore said, shivers ran up Leyla’s back. “Would you forsake your country for a shot at altering the future to our liking?”

“I suppose.” Leyla shrugged. She’d already planned to desert in Xenthien. Without her grandfather to persuade her otherwise, she had no loyalty to Algora.

The trees moved faster and faster, whisked by, until it became impossible to deny that she somehow moved forward without walking. On the horizon, she could see people move in front of some kind of wall of vines which blocked the rest of the road. If she didn’t slow down, she would die when she collided with that blockade.

“I knew Fate sided with me when I picked you two at random.” Furore chuckled. “That bitch loves drama.”

They came to an abrupt stop before any of the people by the blockade spotted them. Leyla recognized the woman stumbling ahead of the others as Fayeth, and unfortunately, the ten soldiers sneaking up on her were not elves. They were human.

Had they drugged Fayeth? Why did she walk like a drunk?

“I’m unarmed, outnumbered.”

Furore slid a hand down her side, took her by the hand, and made her grip the hilt of some kind of weapon. Leyla glanced down and saw that it was a jagged dagger crafted from brittle glass. She doubted she could defend anyone with such a weak-looking weapon without breaking it.

“Careful with Grinja. She kills gods.” Furore released her. “Now, let the fun begin. Let us mark this day as the beginning of our rebellion. Go forth, my champion. I believe in you.”

“I’m not your champion. I’m defending my love.” Leyla gritted her teeth. She would attempt to reason with the soldiers, but when that failed, she might really have to fight. She didn’t want to kill in Furore’s name.

“Quiet, human. This doesn’t concern you.” Furore pushed Leyla forwards so she continued sliding along the road. “Grinja, do your worst.”

Leyla bumped into Fayeth, faced her fellow soldiers, and could have sworn the dagger breathed in her grip.

Not Dead, Yet

“I thought you’d died!” Fayeth sounded furious and relieved at once.

“Furore…” Leyla didn’t want to confess to her cowardice, especially not with a crowd of soldiers who were starting to draw their swords. But if she didn’t, she could never become Fayeth’s equal. The elf had to forgive her. “The spirit faked my death, so I could escape and fulfill my goal, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want freedom.”

“Magda, was it?” Nathaniel, her former captain, revealed himself by removing his helmet and uncovering his sullen face. “I thought I recognized you. What do you think you’re doing? Our orders are to bring diplomat Herielas east. Has the forest confused you? Don’t you know what side you’re on, woman?”

“I do.” Leyla gripped Grinja hard and hoped she’d get a chance to injure Nathaniel. How could he not know her name? She’d served under him for months. “I’m protecting the woman I love from brutes. I’m a deserter.”

“What a pointlessly gallant gesture.” Nathaniel readied his sword. “You’ll die as the cretin you are. No one will remember your family when the king hears of your desertion. Their lives will be snuffed out.”

She hated the man for dragging her family into the situation. They may be selfish and terrible people, but they did not deserve to die for her choices.

The other nine soldiers encircled Leyla and Fayeth. They knew they didn’t have to fight, if they could keep them from running from Nathaniel.

“You love me?” Fayeth whispered. “Really?”

“I think so.” Leyla tried to shield Fayeth with her body. “I sure hope I do, or we’re both about to die for nothing.”

“I’ve walked with the dead for centuries.” Fayeth fell to her knees, placed her palms against the dirt on the road, and started chanting in elven. The wind grew stronger around them and stirred up dust and dirt. “You’ll restore my light to the living, I fear.”

“Enough of this witch’s tricks!” Nathaniel lunged for Leyla.

She parried his sword with the peculiar dagger, but only barely. If his attack had meant to kill her, she would have been dead. He seemed to be testing her. Not that she understood why, since his sword was twice the length of her dagger. Did he intend to kill her without getting a single scratch on his armour?

Leyla wished Grinja had been the size of a sword. It would have made it easier to fight the captain and his soldiers. She had obvious disadvantages when she used a dagger against ten soldiers clad in armour.

If she hadn’t been around magic the last week, she would not have believed a wish could make Grinja grow in size, but the dagger did lengthen and broaden to satisfy its new wielder. The demonic weapon chose her side. Furore had lent her the dagger to defend Fayeth, and that alone made it possible to ignore how Grinja unsettled her.

Leyla gripped the larger hilt with both hands, struck at Nathaniel, and wished to disarm him. If she could disarm the captain, she could make the soldiers listen to her. No one needed to die.

Of course, Grinja listened in her own way.

Fayeth’s chanting echoed in Leyla’s ears, and the sudden power in the sword tore her from side to side. Grinja made Leyla dance around her opponent. Nathaniel failed to predict her erratic movements and defend himself against every lunge of her living, breathing sword.

Leyla ended up behind Nathaniel, Grinja cut off both of his hands. He screamed, blood gushed out of his stumps, and nine soldiers rushed them at once. Leyla may have disarmed the captain, turned him into a non-threat, but she couldn’t fight nine angry men and women. She would die.

Fayeth slammed her palms against the road and chanted louder until the wind obfuscated everything around them.

Leyla lost sight of the soldiers, coughed as dirt entered her mouth, and tried to get an idea of where the next attack would come from.

She heard the soldiers coughing, and Nathaniel screaming, but she could only see Fayeth’s hair flailing at her side. The wind tore at the elf till Leyla feared she might get tossed into the sky.

The tip of a sword grazed her elbow. Leyla wished for Grinja to parry every blade aimed to kill her, yet a sudden scream of pain from Fayeth told her she’d made the wrong wish. She should have protected her lover, not herself.

Enraged, Leyla wished to remove every nearby soldier who intended to harm Fayeth from the world. She wished it with such intensity that when the wind calmed itself, and she discovered the elf leaned against her legs, they stood alone.

Neither the captain nor the soldiers were anywhere to be seen. The only proof she had for the brief battle was the blood Nathaniel had bled onto the road.

Leyla threw Grinja into the woods, so she wouldn’t have to touch the demonic blade a second longer. No mortal should have an item of such immense power in their possession. The dagger would corrupt anyone.

Furore appeared in Grinja’s trajectory, caught the sword which transformed into its original dagger shape, and bared her fangs at Leyla. She didn’t look like an elf or a soldier now. She looked like a winged demon.

“Brutal. The gods aren’t going to be pleased with little me now. Oof, no, they aren’t.“ Furore grinned the happiest of grins.

Leyla didn’t care if the gods burnt Furore out of existence. She fell to her knees and hugged Fayeth with all her might.

“I love you. I love you for who you inspire me to be. Please, please, don’t tell me you were wounded because of my cowardice.”

Mercy

“You want me to lie then?” Fayeth snorted and tried to hide her smile, but even through the pain in her leg, she couldn’t. Leyla was alive and well.

The girl may have deceived her, but she’d saved Fayeth from getting captured after she’d gotten a little too drunk again. She swore she’d never touch the pixie cider, unless there was a party or special occasion. The brew dulled her senses.

“Where did they cut you?” Leyla tore the lower half of her shirt off. “I need to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

“My leg.” Fayeth ran her hand across Leyla’s stomach and grinned. “You’re very attractive when you wear torn shirts, Leyla. You ought to do it often, every day.”

Leyla pulled the emerald dress away from her legs to uncover the wound, and Fayeth giggled. Sadly, Leyla didn’t seem to care about anything else than bandaging her right leg when she’d found the wound. She wasn’t even gentle, despite how Fayeth ran her fingers along her cheek to tease the girl.

The succubus interrupted their private moment by landing next to them. Fayeth would have cursed Furore out for misleading Leyla, and stealing her away, but she remembered how she owed the spirit an apology. Or, well, she owed the new goddess of love an apology if she wanted to see Syvis and Leyla content.

And she did. She’d already lived a full life by many standards, but there were two women who would lose out on one of life’s greatest offerings if she didn’t beg Furore to forgive her. A degrading and demeaning task, set before her, but at least she could start with a smaller step.

Fayeth lifted Leyla’s chin and distracted from her leg with a peck on the lips. “I’m sorry I drove you away. Rather than treat you like a prisoner, I could’ve treated you like a guest in my home. We could have shared my bed.”

Leyla straightened the bandage, applied enough force to it to make Fayeth groan, and tried to look down to check she was doing it right. But Fayeth fixed her green eyes with her own and held her gaze.

“Would you like to give life in my village a shot, or would you prefer to travel the world?” Fayeth asked and blushed at the idea of adventuring together with Leyla. They would discover plenty of hidden places to defile as a couple. “I haven’t been anyone’s queen in centuries. As long as I can hide my ears, I think I’d dare to go anywhere with you by my side.”

“Why choose?” Leyla smiled and kissed her. “We could do both. We’ve got time.”

“I’ll try to grant you more,” she said as she broke the kiss to face Furore. The succubus stood behind an easel with a brush in hand and observed them.

“Oh…? You haven’t forgotten me?” Furore pursed her lips. “Guess this painting goes to the scrap pile then.”

Fayeth crawled away from Leyla, who didn’t allow her to get far before adjusting the bandage, and bowed to Furore. She bowed so deep that her forehead touched the road. She hadn’t begged anyone for anything, for as long as she could remember, yet here she was.

If she didn’t convince Furore to extend Leyla’s lifespan, their time together would be too short. It may be a whole lifetime for Leyla, but it would be insufferable for Fayeth. She’d lost thousands already. She didn’t need to lose another.

“Furore, goddess of love, I beg you…” Fayeth hated groveling for the spirit, and the fact that she could hear Furore’s brush move against the canvas on the easel didn’t make the situation any more palatable. “I beg you to forgive me. Not for my sake, but for my daughter’s and my partner’s sake. It’s unfair for them to get dragged into our quarrel. When I made you swear to leave Syvis alone, I did not fully understand the extent of your awesome power. I—“

“Oof, I like that. Awesome power,” Furore said. “Indeed, I do have awesome power. Far beyond your understanding, mortal. But don’t let me interrupt you, go on.”

Fayeth’s eye twitched, but she continued because Leyla was there to support her. The girl stroked her back. She may not know why it was necessary for Fayeth to degrade herself to the spirit, but she didn’t interject or make it harder than it had to be.

“I would appreciate if you could grant us a way with which to extend a mortal’s life, and find it in your heart to show me mercy. I do want my daughter to enjoy true love in her life,” Fayeth said. “I would love to have it in my own as well.”

Furore snapped her fingers, so the easel vanished, and approached Fayeth with heavy steps.

“Look at me,” Furore said and extended a small sack towards her. Fayeth stretched her hand out to accept the gift, yet Furore snatched it away. “I need you two to make a promise to me, first.”

“Both of us?” Fayeth asked. She would prefer to keep Leyla out of further dealings with this goddess.

“Anything to help Fayeth,” Leyla said, like a fool. A sweet, loyal fool.

“I require worshippers. Millions of them. In exchange, I’ll restore elves to their former glory.” Furore grinned the most sinister grin Fayeth had seen on a face. It didn’t allow room for doubt about how Furore was a succubus through and through. “Promise me to go south, rebuild the city the volcano destroyed, and construct a grand temple for me. If you do that, and plant these seeds in the soil there, Leyla will live as long as you, Fayeth. Not a second longer. Syvis will find true love with Nimue.”

Fayeth held her hand out, Leyla raised hers alongside it.

“I promise,” they said in unison.

“Tell everyone.” Furore dropped the bag of seeds into their open palms. “That love has a new ruler.”

The goddess of love vanished and left Fayeth and Leyla with a spare moment of privacy.

An Empire for Two

The clouds on the blue sky made Leyla think of dragons as she laid on her back in volcanic soil, and whether she would ever encounter one of the giant beasts in real life, or if they only existed in dreams.

She’d seen more of the world than she’d expected she would when she’d picked Fayeth. She’d also enjoyed greater freedom. She’d even been entrusted with considerable responsibilities when it came to the reconstruction of Lho Allanar. The city and its workers always needed someone to oversee it.

“Slacking on her sixtieth birthday,” Fayeth said and shook her head as she came walking up the hill. The elf hadn’t aged a day. She was as beautiful as when Leyla had been in her twenties, but here on the coast she wore a lighter pink dress fit for the warmer climate. “You’re no human. You don’t get to retire for another century or five.”

“If I’m no human, what am I?” Leyla touched the tips of her own ears. Furore’s strange apples hadn’t made them grow pointy.

“An honorary elf, silly.” Fayeth sat down by her side and offered Leyla another of the black, round fruits. In the beginning, when Fayeth hadn’t put enough faith in Furore to believe that Leyla would live as long as her, she had forced her to eat several of the fruits in a single day. Leyla’s diet had almost solely consisted of the black apples then.

“You sure she meant for me to eat them?” Leyla asked, sat up, and pulled Fayeth close to her body by wrapping an arm around her waist. “I think she only said we needed to plant the seeds.”

“I know you hate their taste, but eat it for me.” Fayeth pushed the apple into her hand, Leyla refused to grab it.

“Is this what the city used to look like?” Leyla asked and looked down at the construction happening around them in the volcanic soil.

On the horizon, on seaside cliffs, she could see the imposing architecture of the palace they were trying to restore to its former glory. But the elves and their hired workers were building roads, farms, and houses everywhere between the hill and the palace too. She and Fayeth had set in motion an ambitious project that would take decades to complete.

“Lho Allanar was large, even in my day, but if they finish everything we have planned, it will be twice or three times the size of the old city.” Fayeth took a bite out of the black fruit. “How about I feed you, since it’s your birthday?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Fayeth stuck her tongue out. She hadn’t swallowed any of the fruit. She’d left the pieces.

“I’m into it.” Leyla giggled, kissed her partner, and ate the salty pieces of fruit which extended her lifespan.

Fayeth tried to take another bite of the apple, but Leyla wouldn’t have it. She wrestled the elf to the ground, hugged, caressed, and worshipped her with lavish kisses.

If Leyla and Fayeth hadn’t been too preoccupied with each other, they might have seen transparent stone pillars rising on the hill around them and reaching for the sky. Someone had plans to construct a new temple on that very hill, but they hadn’t finished the design yet. One day, they would.

Welcome to the New Age

“Two hundred years, and Itrix doesn’t redesign his Scarlet Kingdom. No new decorations, nothing,” Furore said as she materialized in the vicinity of the chambers where they stored baby demons.

She hadn’t visited the demon realm since her most recent banishment, shortly before she’d usurped the goddess of love’s power. Since it hadn’t changed, however, she found her way around without issue.

Nonetheless, the lava which poured down cliffs, the sound of tortured souls which screamed in vain, and the endless links of rusty chains and spider silk everywhere could have been exchanged for something original.

If Ithrix visited Lho Allanar, he would envy her. The city may not last for eternity, like the Scarlet Kingdom, but its citizens did worship her. And these days Lho Allanar had become a sight to behold.

Furore snuck across the treacherous pathways carved out of the cliffs, with Grinja in hand, and approached the entrance to the baby chambers. Luckily, it seemed the demons saw no reason to guard their young. She slipped under the entrance’s archway without slowing down.

Yellow, organic growths in the shape of spheres sat on the blackened walls. She didn’t pay them much heed, and walked deeper inside, before she saw baby demons floating inside a couple of the growths. It must be how her kind grew their young.

Furore had never taken an interest in babies in the past. She hadn’t needed one, and she hadn’t had any herself either. They brought unnecessary trouble.

This time was different though. She meant to create life. The mortals who ruled the world had proved difficult to persuade and control. If she could find someone young, someone malleable, she could guide that individual in the right direction.

Perhaps she started too young if she picked a baby, but time was on her side. She may as well be immortal.

And she couldn’t deny that she had a certain curiosity to scratch too. Could she create a mortal in image of herself? If that mortal had children of their own, would Furore have a new species that obeyed her every whim?

“Intruders? Why would there be intruders in my corridors?” Someone muttered to themselves around a corner as Furore arrived at an intersection.

If Ithrix captured her in his realm, he might imprison or kill her. To complete her mission, Furore stuck her arms into the nearest yellowish growth, grabbed the first baby she got her hands on, and pulled it out of the viscous sphere.

Goo clung to her skin as she fled with the young and leapt from the Scarlet Kingdom to the southern border of the Freow Woods. Night had fallen when she arrived in the world of the mortals. Lho Allanar lay quiet.

Furore turned the demon with lavender skin around in her arms until its triangular face was the right-side up. She was almost certain that the baby was female, yet doubted it would become another succubus. She couldn’t put her finger on why she thought so, but the baby had a somewhat odd aura.

It didn’t have wings either, upon closer inspection, and its tiny horns twisted forwards, while two short tails grew out of its lower back. It seemed very odd indeed.

The baby blinked, opened its eyes, and stared up at Furore with crystalline cyan eyeballs. It didn’t have pupils like a human, or fires burning in its blood-red eyes like Furore. Its gaze inspected her with an intimidating intelligence, as if it could read minds and found her soul lacking. She suspected then that she should drop the baby on the ground.

“I’ll call you Hope,” Furore said and ignored her own misgivings. “As in, I hope you don’t destroy my plans. You little shit.”

She booped the baby’s nose. The baby did not coo, cry, or laugh at the treatment like a human baby might have. It turned its head to observe the lights of Lho Allanar and wept.

Never Enough

Wendy T. Lyoness

Copyright © 2020 by Wendy T. Lyoness

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Wendy’s Newsletter. Wendy’s Facebook.

Another Quarrel

Love ruled the citizens of Lho Allanar, her home city, and she didn’t know if she believed in it. If the priestesses learnt about Venviel’s doubts, they would try to free her heart, or worse, cast her out of society.

“We have to cut our expenses on imports from Algora.” Thalia thumped the list she’d brought to the dinner table. “What kind of self-respecting elf buys human furniture for thousands of gold?” Thalia hadn’t lived more than three-hundred years, yet the pressure her work had put on her had already created wrinkles in her face and bags under her blue eyes.

“Well, I don’t know.” Corym shrugged. “But those chairs and tables do sell, so if you want to cut expenses, we can stop importing spices from Xenthien. Easterners don’t understand food. It tastes like sand when they prepare it.”

Corym contorted his face in an exaggerated expression of disgust, which was unfortunate, Venviel thought, since she knew her mother had used some of those spices to season their meal.

Thalia emptied the contents of her wine glass by tossing it across the table at Corym. Venviel cut into the remainder of the veal on her plate, paired the meat with potatoes, and ate. She did not think it tasted like sand, but clearly her father disagreed, or he would not have dumped his food on the carpet after Thalia had ruined his shirt.

“Tasteless ass!”

“Old hag who’s possessed my wife!”

Thalia gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. “Did you hear what he called me, Venviel? Did you?”

Venviel sighed. She supposed she should be grateful her parents weren’t fighting in public again. Although, they ought to be quieter with the maid somewhere in the mansion. She suspected the maid had been sent by the temple to report suspicious activity, and she might get them all in trouble.

“You always drag my daughter into your pettiness.” Corym wiped his face with a handkerchief and attended his bushy moustache some extra care. “She isn’t—“

“Your daughter?” Thalia snorted. “She’s my daughter. I birthed her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Thalia. Simply because she popped out of you doesn’t mean I didn’t contribute. She likes me over…” Corym ducked as Thalia tossed a plate at his head. The plate missed, he retaliated by throwing a spoon.

Thalia laughed. “You have a perfectly good knife! Face me as a man, wimp.”

And like most family dinners, these days, a pleasant meal devolved into a competition of who could break whatever the maid had set on the table by throwing it the hardest at the walls. Venviel had attempted to silence her parents in the past, to mixed results, but it seemed they would never get along.

If they’d cared to listen to her, she might have suggested that they stop running their businesses as partners. If they hadn’t worked together, she imagined they would have argued less. They may not have adored each other, but they wouldn’t have had such an obvious reason to fight.

Truthfully, Venviel had gotten so used to her parent’s bickering that she couldn’t muster the energy to address it. She finished her meal while they turned the dining hall into their battlefield, rose to her feet, and walked out of the room.

One day, Thalia and Corym would be punished for filling their hearts with hatred. Venviel might have prayed to be far away by then, but she didn’t want to risk alerting the temple or the goddess of love to her family’s issues, so she stayed silent.

Neither of her parents would allow her to move out before she turned a hundred anyway. By elven standards, Venviel counted as a young adult since she was only fifty-three. And somehow, her parents could agree on those decisions she should be allowed to make for herself.

If she hadn’t been the daughter of two wealthy merchants, she would have packed her bags and run. As it was, someone would always be offered a high enough reward to track and retrieve her from the end of the world.

Monster

Hope could hear the muffled arguing downstairs from the armchair in the library, but she wouldn’t report it to high priestess Keerla. If she reported the Amicier couple, she would lose access to their cozy library. The temple would take possession of their home, their emporium, and Hope would have no havens left in Lho Allanar.

She knew that Thalia and Corym would be condemned, but she didn’t want to be the one to swing the judge’s axe down on them. The Amiciers had shown her a kindness few extended to someone with her appearance.

A thunk on the window startled Hope. The red mess sliding down the glass made it clear that the boys outside had thrown a tomato, and she sank deeper into the armchair, like it would make her invisible.

She’d thought she’d been sneaky enough to avoid detection this grey morning, but apparently, no, she’d been mistaken. Her tormentors would wait for her until she exited the Amiciers’ mansion. They would not be satisfied unless they got to drench her plain dress in tomatoes or eggs.

Hope preferred tomatoes, by now, if only because their remains were easier to clean off than yolks. If she hurried, she might even have a chance to wash her dress before she returned to the temple. And then the high priestess would not scold her as harshly, because she wouldn’t notice.

At times, she’d listened to Keerla’s lessons and thought the goddess of love a hypocrite. If the goddess wanted everyone to treat each other with loving kindness, why did she tolerate bullies? Why didn’t she descend from the heavens to punish everyone who’d pursued Hope since she’d been a young, homeless orphan?

During her worst lapses in faith, Hope believed those who said she looked like she did because her parents must have hated each other. That she’d been conceived through rape. It would explain why she’d never known her mother or father. They’d despised each other as much as they’d despised her.

Hope clutched the thick tome in her arms. Without books to read, she would have had nothing to lean on. Every hour of her life would have been a constant reminder of how she resembled a horrible monster torn out of elves’ nightmares. She would have been lost to loneliness, succumbed to her darkest thoughts.

Still, not all books were equal. Some were worse than others due to the simple fact that they tried to scare children by describing creatures that looked like her. On the other hand, she’d discovered her favourite author through the Amiciers’ library and been surprised to find that they were an elf of some repute.

Syvis va Sharel wrote incredible stories about heroes who never fit into their society, and strangely, all doted on their decrepit mothers. Hope’s favourite story, The Blood Rose, featured a courageous vigilante who rebelled against convention to win the heart of the man she admired. It was such a romantic tale.

Hope might have loved to meet Syvis in person, but she worried she would frighten the talented author with her appearance. If they did meet, Syvis might start writing scary stories about repulsive women that should be killed to spare others the sight.

She ran her fingers across the worn pages of the tome. No, she did not want to destroy her only pleasure in life by meeting someone she admired. Everyone else already regretted how they had to interact with her. She preferred if The Blood Rose remained a book she could read without unwelcome, intrusive memories to distract from the enjoyment.

If she had to overlook the Amiciers’ transgressions against their shared faith to have access to a library, it seemed a small price to pay. She only prayed the high priestess would show her mercy, if the temple learnt the truth.

Forlorn

The shy maid reminded Venviel of a wild animal in its natural habitat. As long as no one spooked Hope when she sat in the cramped, unused library, she moved with a rare elegance. Twin tails poked out from under her brown dress, thumped the floorboards while she read, and picked up their pace whenever she got scared by the tomatoes pelting the windows.

The light that fell on Hope made her look otherworldly, frightening, and her sharp horns did nothing to lessen the impression. Venviel did fear the maid, but only because of her suspicions. If she ignored them for a moment, she could see how Hope hugged the particular book in her arms like it was the most precious item in her world. She could hear a faint squeal after each tomato.

She became a hunter in her own home, a thief stealing glances at a forest spirit.

“Maid. Eh, I mean…” Venviel barged into the library, crossed her arms, and did her best to act like she’d just showed up.

Hope stopped moving and reading, yet she retained enough sense to lay the tome on the small table next to the armchair. If she feared for her life, she valued the book more.

“Hope, right?” Venviel blew her black bangs out of her face.

“Maid is adequate.” Hope rose, curtsied, and looked at her feet.

Or at least Venviel thought the maid looked at her feet. Hope’s crystalline cyan eyes lacked pupils and irises that might indicate where her gaze landed. In a real sense, they were what scared Venviel the most about her, and she imagined those eyes were off-putting for others too. Although, she doubted anyone would agree on why.

Hope intimidated Venviel because a part of her could stare into the windows of her soul until she drowned. Eye contact with Hope mesmerized her unlike anything in the world. She might transform into a moth that couldn’t stop bumping into a lantern, if she gawked into Hope’s soul too long.

“Um, I apologize, Miss Amicier, did you require my assistance?” Hope hid her hands behind her back, the twin tails thumped against the side of the armchair.

Venviel had stepped into the library so she wouldn’t sneak peeks at Hope from the corridor, but she couldn’t admit that. It would give a weird impression. They were nothing alike. She would never dare befriend the shy girl, lest she tell the temple her secrets. Hope probably needed a friend, but it wasn’t Venviel’s problem. She did her best to be kind to her, and that had to suffice. If Hope wanted them to be friends, she could prove that she’d volunteered to work for her parents out of the love in her heart first, not because of their status in society.

“Y-you’re very quiet, Miss Amicier,” Hope said. “Do you want me to leave the library? Does my presence offend you? I know I wouldn’t…” Hope bit her tongue, the tails thumped harder while she shuffled back and forth. “I’m sorry.”

“Your presence does not offend me, Hope. And I’m not quiet!” Venviel raised her voice to prove a point. “I… I like the company of women!”

Hope took a couple of steps backward until she stood behind the armchair. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind, Miss. I’m sure you would prefer another cute elf over whatever I am.”

Venviel blushed when she realized how Hope had taken her statement, and the blush only deepened when she questioned if Hope had called her cute, or if she’d misheard. She hated to admit it to herself, but she did stand and stare more than she’d planned to do when she’d stepped into the library.

What had she meant to accomplish? Why hadn’t she walked to her own room and left the maid to read in peace? Hope was a snake in the grass, sent by the priestesses. No more. Never more.

“I-if you don’t require my assistance, Miss Amicier,” Hope said. “Can I excuse myself? I’m sure your mother or father have chores for me. Sounds like they’ve stopped arguing.”

Venviel narrowed her eyes at Hope and listened for the muffled sounds of arguing coming from the dining hall on the first floor. They’d stopped, but she didn’t like how the maid spoke so casually about her parents’ fight.

“You can leave.”

Hope hesitated, then she crossed the room, walked over to Venviel, and glanced up from the floor. The maid waited for some kind of acknowledgement, but Venviel did not think she needed to give her permission twice.

Besides, she found her tongue stuck in her throat when Hope stood this close. For the first time since they’d met, she smelled vanilla on the maid. Usually, the maid smelled like eggs, but not today. Vanilla tickled Venviel’s nose like it’d detected something desirable, something sweet. It suited Hope.

“Would you mind stepping aside?” Hope smiled politely.

Venviel could hear her own heart beating in her chest before she realized it was Hope’s tails striking the floorboards. She took a step to the left but forgot to move out of the doorway, so in the end, she forced Hope to push past. She swore she’d not intended for them to get closer, or touch, yet they did when Hope slipped out of the library. Lavender skin brushed against Venviel’s arm.

The maid didn’t dawdle after their awkward encounter. She rushed down the corridor.

“Snake,” Venviel muttered to herself when she was certain Hope couldn’t hear. “She’s a snake. A snake, not a…” She waved her hand around like she expected to grab the correct word out of the air. “Poisonous.”

Hope would get her parents in trouble if she told anyone else than Venviel about how they’d fought. She intended to punish her if she did. They could not be friends, even if Hope asked.

In Their Place

Hope contributed Miss Amicier’s peculiarities to her mother and father. If Thalia and Corym hadn’t fought all the time, their daughter would behave like an ordinary, well-adjusted citizen. She would not accost Hope in the library. She’d stare, spit in her direction, and avoid her altogether. She didn’t know what Miss Amicier wanted, but she might prefer she lost her interest. Nothing healthy or beneficial could arise between them.

“Ah, Hope. Right on time,” Corym said as she entered the dining hall. “Apologies about the mess. We’ll clean it up.”

“It’ll do us good to work together.” Thalia smiled. “For once.”

“We only do it a couple of times a month, after all.” Corym stroked his wife’s back.

Thalia took his hand in hers. “I don’t mind small arguments, as long as they’re with you.”

“The same, darling. The same.”

The mess did not shock Hope. The dining hall looked like it always did after a family dinner in the Amicier mansion. Venviel had placed her plate and utensils in a neat pile, while Thalia and Corym had shattered a number of glasses and plates against the paneled wooden walls. Three of the six chairs around the long table had been knocked over. Meat and potatoes stained the thick, green carpet.

Normally, she would have listened to Corym and returned to the library, but Venviel probably occupied it now that she didn’t have to share. Hope may not get to read more pages out of The Blood Rose until later in the week.

“If you wish, I can bring the dishes into the kitchen and clean them.” Hope curtsied.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to go upstairs?” Thalia bent over and collected shards of different plates. “You don’t have to treat us like your masters. We can handle our own household.”

“That is not to say that we don’t appreciate you cooking and cleaning for us.” Corym walked around the table, picked up spoons, knifes, and forks. “You’re an excellent cook, Hope. You’ll make a perfect wife for someone one day. Better than—“

“Don’t you start!” Thalia stuck her tongue out. “Or you’ll be throwing those spoons around the room without hitting anyone again.”

“I do my best to not hit that which is precious to me.” Corym smirked.

“It’s my duty to serve!” Hope exclaimed. “I’ll do whatever task you need done!”

“Well, you could always clean Venviel’s room.” Corym shrugged. “I meant it when I said you do an excellent job around the mansion, Hope, yet it seems that particular room goes by neglected—“

“I’m so sorry.” She bowed deeply. “I should—“

“Let me finish, girl. Let me finish.” Corym chuckled, waved away her excessive manners like he hadn’t meant to reprimand her, and sighed. “I’m sure it’s Venviel’s fault. Goddess knows she doesn’t do what she ought to. She takes you for granted, and it’s a shame.”

“Indeed, it seems our daughter can’t find a good companion, even when we welcome a potential friend for her into the household.” Thalia lifted one of the chairs from the floor and slid it in under the table.

“Well, if…” Corym exchanged a meaningful glance with his wife. “If you want us to assign you a task, Hope, you could perhaps spend time with our daughter? Part of the reason we did accept your offer, when you first made it, was because we thought you’d make a good friend for Venviel. You’re intelligent and polite. Something she…”

“Qualities she has, but could develop further.” Thalia shook her head at him.

“True.” Corym dropped the utensils he’d gathered on top of the table. “Venviel takes after her father too much, I’m afraid.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“I…” Hope hadn’t planned to socialize with Miss Amicier. If she could choose, she would rather spend time with her parents. They treated her nicer. Venviel made her feel out of place and weird. She preferred to forget how she was always both of those, regardless of where she went.

“What do you say, Hope? Wouldn’t you like to take a week off from cleaning and cooking?” Thalia asked. “You can still visit every day, if you spend the time with our daughter.”

“I-I’ll do my best!” Hope curtsied, turned around, and left the dining hall.

She might have preferred to return to the temple, and forget about the Amiciers, but she didn’t want to lose access to their library and its books. She didn’t want to disappoint Corym and Thalia, who showed her such kindness, either.

In her wildest fantasies, those which would never come true, she would have liked to grow up with parents like Venviel’s. In spite of the high priestess’s teachings, she figured it would have been nice to have Thalia and Corym as her mother and father.

Grey

“Miss Amicier!”

The maid knocked on her door, but Venviel wouldn’t open it. Too many of her clothes lay on the floor, and on the bed, and she didn’t like the idea of bringing the maid into her shadowy room either.

If there was a chance Hope would try to sniff out secrets or information she could use against her, Venviel preferred to avoid it. She didn’t think the maid had reason to bother her when she had a whole mansion to clean anyway.

Venviel pulled a card out of her tarot deck and placed it on the table next to her elven chess board. The card she’d drawn depicted an exquisite moon. Longing. If she’d been superstitious, she might have put faith in it, but she viewed it as no more than an old game.

“Miss Amicier…” Hope cracked the door to her room and peeked inside. “Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t think you were in here.”

“It’s my room,” Venviel said. “Why wouldn’t I be in it?”

“Because you live in a huge mansion with dozens of rooms, a library, and a garden,” Hope said. “You’re fortunate.”

“Would you leave your library if you didn’t have to serve us?” Venviel pulled a card for Hope. Justice. The maid would betray them one day because the temple demanded it through their laws.

“I don’t live in a mansion, Miss Amicier.” Hope watched her from the crack between the door and its frame without opening it further. “I sleep in the temple. I’ve never had a home as grand as yours.”

“Sad,” Venviel said, like she could shake the twinge of sympathy she felt for Hope by labeling her life.

“If you say so.”

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Venviel pulled a second card for Hope and threw it away like it would burn her fingers if she held it. The Lovers’ card landed upside down on one of her ruffled skirts on the floor.

“Do you want me to pick that up, Miss Amicier?”

“No, leave it. Please,” she said. “It lied to me. So we should leave it where it fell to teach it a lesson.”

“A card lied to you?”

“It did.”

“I’m sorry.” Hope sighed wistfully. “I’d never lie to you.”

Venviel slammed the deck onto the table and dug her nails into the palm of her hand. Hope would lie to her, yet she dared to promise she wouldn’t, as if they had a sacred bond. They didn’t know each other.

“Do you work for the temple?” Venviel asked. She may as well put the maid’s promise to the test.

“I’m training as a disciple.”

Venviel didn’t know how to react when Hope confessed so readily. She sat sort of baffled on her chair. Why hadn’t the maid lied? Was it because Hope knew any serious consequences would fall on Venviel, and her family, not herself?

“Why…? Why did you want to train as a disciple?”

“Um, I…” Hope paused. “I didn’t at first. I didn’t believe in their teachings, but this old woman I met, um, she… She said they’d give me food to eat, a bed to sleep in.”

“Did they?”

“Most days, some nights,” Hope said. “A lot of people want to become disciples. Not all of them like to have me around. I try to avoid the busiest weeks.”

“I saw the tomatoes on the windows in the library.”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t want to clean the glass with those boys outside.”

“Understandable.”

Venviel dropped the tarot deck on the table and walked over to the door. It had been easy to have a conversation with the maid when Venviel didn’t have to look her in the eyes, so it became particularly difficult for her to speak when Hope observed her with a newfound curiosity. She heard the twin tails thump the floor in the corridor.

A part of her wished to tell Hope how she found her mesmerizing, if only because she imagined no one had ever complimented her before, and she wanted to be the first. Maybe it would make the maid hesitate before she sold them out.

“You’re…” Venviel trailed off. She couldn’t possibly tell Hope she found her mesmerizing. “You want to go outside to the garden?”

“With you?” Hope furrowed her brow.

“With me.” Venviel nodded, grabbed the door, and opened it so they didn’t have to view each other through a crack. “The weather’s fit for it. Sunny. You haven’t visited the garden, right?”

“I like staying inside.” Hope lowered her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Venviel offered her arm. “Let’s go outside. Together. The garden’s lovely, and I’ll be with you. No one will dare throw tomatoes when I’m there. They’ll think we’re dating, or engaged, and leave you alone in the future too.”

Hope’s twin tails stopped thumping the floor. A dark pink hue crossed her cheeks and the tips of her horns. Venviel hadn’t seen Hope blush before, but she was pretty sure that’s what she was doing.

“Do you like books?” Hope asked, hooked their arms together.

“Since you do,” Venviel murmured and cringed when she heard her own response. “I’m not an avid reader like you, I mean.”

Hold On

Larks flew into the sky when Hope and Venviel stepped outside. A couple of doves under a bush raised their heads to check who intruded upon their home, then they resumed their search for worms by sticking their beaks into the soil.

Hope had only viewed the garden’s grandeur from behind the safety of glass windows in the past. Its greenery smelled stronger than she’d thought it would, and overpowered her senses, yet she found herself indulging.

Venviel lead her around the mermaid fountain in the middle, while pointing at various plants her parents had cultivated. Hope only recognized the yellow, pink, and red roses since their petals looked the same. She didn’t know the names of the white or orange flowers, or the different types of bushes, and she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to risk sounding ignorant to Venviel.

She would have liked it if a higher hedge had run around the exterior of the garden, since it would have prevented outsiders from looking in on them. Yet even if the rude boys in their tattered clothes noticed her walk around the garden, arm in arm with Venviel, they did not throw tomatoes. They shared a few words with each other before they disappeared down a street which ran between the mansions of wealthy families.

“Told you they wouldn’t bother us.” Venviel unhooked their arms and sat on the edge of the fountain. “We can relax for a while. Don’t have to talk.”

Venviel appeared solemn in the sunlight. She had a fair sharpness to her facial features and often seemed serious because of her thin, straight lips and narrow green eyes. The elf wore a unique, extravagant blend between an onyx suit and a maroon gown that made Hope’s dress look like a cleaning rag.

Hope remembered what Corym and Thalia had told her. If she didn’t befriend Venviel, she would lose access to their library.

It was a shame Venviel didn’t share her love for books, or they would have become fast friends. They could have read in the library together for a week. Hope would have enjoyed a few stress-free days.

“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” Hope sat next to Venviel and tucked her tails to the side, so they wouldn’t fall into the fountain.

“I used to, when I was younger. When my family was…”

“Perfect?”

“My family’s never been perfect.” Venviel blew her bangs out of her face. Despite her short, boyish haircut, she didn’t trim her bangs. They grew long and wild. “We’ve only been less imperfect than we are. Less…”

“You don’t have to explain.” Hope disliked discussing her own problems, and imagined Venviel felt something similar in this case. She would have liked to help, somehow, but she hadn’t been taught enough by the high priestess.

Venviel stuck a hand into the fountain, stirred the water with her fingers. Hope clasped her hands in her lap and watched her tails dance across the grass. She could keep them under control, if she wished, but it took concentration. And she found it amusing to let them free. They liked to play with each other until she worried they might get tangled into difficult knots.

“When you leave, do you want me to walk with you to the temple?”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You will have to deal with those bullies, won’t you?”

“I’m used to that,” Hope said. She’d lived without a protector for years. Venviel might wish to be nice, but the elf ought to bear in mind that Hope’s tormentors could come after her too. She didn’t want Venviel to get hurt in her stead.

“You shouldn’t be. You’re…” Venviel made an attempt to gather the courage to say what she’d meant to say, but in the end, sat silent.

Hope knew the general gist of what Venviel planned to tell her whenever her courage failed her. She’d heard it many times from priestesses, when she’d grown up, and sometimes it had even come from people who’d had her best interests at heart. People like Venviel.

Hope may be a hideous monster, but everyone still ought to treat her with respect. After all, the goddess must have had a reason to put her in Lho Allanar. She shouldn’t give in to doubt because of intolerance.

Even if people like Venviel tried to assuage her worries with such silly claims, Hope understood that no one could love her. The elf would marry someone of status in the future and forget her entirely. She didn’t have to make a half-hearted attempt to console her. Life would carry on as it always had, and Hope would make the most of it. She would not crush on Miss Amicier. It’d be pathetic.

Loss of Hope

“See you tomorrow.” Thalia held the oaken entrance open for Hope.

“You performed adequately today.” Corym winked for whatever ludicrous reason, yet Thalia didn’t react to his blatant flirting. She should have. What kind of example did it set if he could flirt with the help?

“Thank you.” Hope curtsied and walked out onto the paved path which lead into the streets. “Have a nice night!”

“You too!”

Venviel watched her parents close the door behind Hope from the shadows on the third floor. Neither Thalia nor Corym detected her.

She waited until her parents had disappeared into their office before she jumped onto the broad railing of the stairs, slid downstairs, and landed with light steps. The floor did not creak, she’d learnt how to avoid making noise after hours of practice.

She tiptoed over to the entrance, grabbed a cane her father kept in the hallway in case he had to fend off intruders, and hid her face underneath one of her mother’s wide-brimmed hats. Then she left the mansion.

Hope turned the corner of a street, and the four snotty boys from earlier followed. The maid had explicitly told Venviel to not help, but it wasn’t about her. The boys had thrown tomatoes at her family’s windows. Venviel ought to teach them a lesson for that alone. If Hope happened to be there when she did, well, great. The maid would be impressed by her bravery. Maybe she’d even thank Venviel.

Not that she cared if she impressed Hope or not.

Venviel hurried after the maid and found everyone on the same street. The boys walked a fair distance from Hope. They weren’t alone. Wealthy elves eyed the five with distrust as they passed, and none greeted them. They evidently did not belong in this upstanding quarter of Lho Allanar where trimmed hedges, expensive gardens, and mansions lined the streets.

Venviel hid under Thalia’s hat before any of the elves could recognize her. She dressed like she belonged among them, and even if she didn’t know them personally, they were bound to know her through her parents. She needed to remain inconspicuous.

Hope glanced behind her as she reached the intersection next to a crowded square, walked faster when she noticed her pursuers, and crossed the busy street.

Venviel wondered if this hunt happened to the maid every day. And if it did, why hadn’t she told the temple? Surely, she wouldn’t have had to walk alone every day if someone knew the truth. These bullies didn’t just let hatred into their hearts. They welcomed and treasured its presence.

The boys broke into a run to catch up with the maid and forced Venviel to jog if she wanted to keep them in sight. She’d not expected Hope to move quite as fast as she did, but her pursuers must have, or they wouldn’t have run.

“Hey! Watch your step, missy!” The driver of a horse-drawn cart shouted when Venviel crossed the intersection. His two horses neighed, stomped their hooves against the street, and threatened to crush her if she got closer. He’d almost run her over.

“Apologies,” she said, fled into the crowd, and realized she’d lost sight of Hope. The maid had either vanished behind taller elves or taken another street.

Luckily, Venviel knew the area, and what street someone had to take to reach the temple. She could see its grand marble pillars on the hill, bathed in sunlight, far beyond the triangular roofs of mansions. The sun set later in the day on the temple than the rest of Lho Allanar. And unless Hope had another place to visit before nightfall, she would be headed there.

Venviel pushed her way through the crowd in search of those she’d chased. When she didn’t spot them, she chose the street that would take her to the temple the fastest.

A little later, she discovered Hope’s bullies, but not Hope herself. Either the maid had managed to shake her pursuers, or she was even farther ahead. Venviel had no idea which. She could see plenty of hiding spots in hedges, in the trees of gardens, but she couldn’t tell whether Hope would have had the chance to slip away without anyone noticing.

It didn’t matter. Venviel reminded herself that Hope didn’t have to watch her teach the boys a lesson. She’d reap the benefits in the end anyway.

Nonetheless, she could follow the boys for a while to ensure she’d catch them alone. She didn’t want to give them a chance to call for help when they’d brought their punishment down on themselves, and perhaps Hope would reappear.

Venviel tracked them for half an hour, but Hope did not show. They walked in the direction of the temple at first, yet when they seemed to understand that the maid had escaped, they veered off towards the market. She had to spring her ambush before they reached the stalls and shops. Hundreds of elves would be at the market this late in the afternoon.

Venviel waited for the hooligans to reach an empty street. They’d long since left the mansions and trimmed hedges behind. Small, rickety houses lined the streets in this quarter of Lho Allanar while refuse and animal feces lent a faint horrible stench to the air. Dreams came to this place to die.

She hoped to never live anywhere else than her family’s mansion. She would inherit it one day, and if Hope was alive at that point, she would invite the maid to live with her. At least it would cut Hope off from the priestesses and their teachings.

Then again, perhaps Hope would not live that long. Venviel didn’t know how old the maid was, but she assumed they were around the same age. Hope didn’t seem as wise as ancient elves, but she held a job with responsibility in their society, so she couldn’t be much younger than Venviel either.

The boys disappeared around the side of a decrepit house. Venviel cleared her thoughts, ran to finally catch up with her targets, and prepared to beat them if she needed to when she rounded the corner.

“What you want?” One of the unclean brats leaned against the wall of the house, while the other three lingered behind him.

Venviel flipped the brim of her hat up to reveal her face and poked the cane into the mud at her feet. She couldn’t tell if she looked scary without a mirror, but she enjoyed the anxious expressions she drew.

“She was with the hate monster, Laiex!” The smallest boy said to the brat in front. “Walking in the garden of that place she sneaks into and steals every day!”

“Hope doesn’t steal from us,” Venviel said. She didn’t believe the accusation for a second. If Hope had ever taken anything out of their home, it would have been a book, and she would have returned it later unless Thalia or Corym let her keep it. “She works for us. If you don’t leave her alone, I will teach you a lesson.”

“Teach us a lesson?” Laiex said. “Bet the hate monster set you up to this! Bet you like touching hate monsters!”

“What?” Venviel stirred up mud by moving the cane. “No, I haven’t touched—“

“She probably thinks we deserves the hate monster’s curse!” The smallest boy shouted. “Faraine, Faraine! Come quickly! We need saving!”

“Quiet down,” Venviel said and glanced around the street, but no one could be seen. “Look, Hope’s not a monster, and she isn’t cursed. Leave her alone, stop throwing tomatoes at our windows, or I’ll tell your parents.”

Laiex spat in her direction. “Our parents understand hate monsters. They told us to beware the curse!”

“Then I’ll tell the temple.” Venviel raised the cane. She had planned to whip Laiex once, for spitting at her, but all four boys suddenly appeared uneasy.

“Don’t.” Laiex stopped leaning against the wall and stepped back.

Truthfully, Venviel didn’t like to threaten children with the temple. It seemed inappropriate when it frightened her too. They didn’t deserve whatever the high priestess might do to them.

“Leave Hope alone, stop throwing tomatoes, and I won’t tell anyone.” Venviel lowered the cane.

“You best be right about the curse,” the smallest boy said.

“I am. Trust me.” Venviel smiled to smooth the situation over. “Hope’s a nice lady.”

The boys didn’t respond. They retreated into the nearest alley between two of the houses, so they probably lived in the quarter. Earlier she might have concluded that the stench suited them, but now, she kind of didn’t want to think about their lives. It would only make her realize that they had problems of their own. Similar to Hope’s.

Venviel should be happy that she hadn’t needed to beat sense into anyone, yet she only felt remorseful on her way home. She should have listened to Hope. It wasn’t necessary for her to get involved. One day, the boys would become adults, and by then, they should have learnt their lesson.

Besides, the tomatoes hadn’t done real damage to their windows. If the only good that came out of the hour she’d spent following the boys was that they left Hope alone in the future, she would count it a victory.

At least that’s what Venviel told herself until she saw smoke rise from her childhood home and flames lick its exterior.

Betrayal

The day’s last sunlight caressed the temple’s giant pillars, though shadows had fallen over most of Lho Allanar. Hope climbed the steep, grassy hill with a dozen of her fellow disciples. They returned at different hours of the day, so some might still linger in the city, and others might already sit in the main hall. About a hundred disciples were trained at any one time, but not everyone would become priestesses. Those who didn’t would instead work as missionaries or inquisitors.

Statues of the goddess of love adorned the hill. They depicted a woman with elven features, exaggerated curves, and had been strewn about in a random pattern. The high priestess claimed the statues had been positioned like they had to honour Fate. An ally of the goddess of love.

Hope didn’t know if it was true, or if someone had kind of dropped the statues, watched them roll downhill, and erected them where they’d stopped to save themselves the trouble of trying to carry them uphill twice. She’d not dared suggest it as a theory.

She exhaled in relief alongside the others when they reached the top. The high priestess would scold her for being late, but what difference did it make? Keerla would always find a reason to scold her, if she wished to. Hope could do nothing to prevent it.

At least she’d avoided her tormentors today by taking the long way around. The boys had likely assumed she’d go straight to the temple, so they would have taken the quickest route, but she had not. She’d wandered for a bit.

And it had made her late, but she pretended like she wasn’t aware of the fact as she strode up the wide staircase and entered the goddess’s home.

The temple did not have a door, because no door would fit in such a broad and tall entrance. Disciples and priestesses ate their simple meals, seated by tables along the walls, while talking with each other.

Hope would have liked to sneak off to the sleeping areas, since they lay deserted at this hour, but Keerla herself guarded the door to that corridor. The high priestess must have suspected that she would skip her meal in an attempt to avoid confrontation.

Keerla gritted her teeth, approached Hope with confident steps. Her pink, golden robe caused her to stand out. It was the only garment anyone in the temple wore that could be sold for a profit. The woman claimed she’d lived for millenniums, long before Lho Allanar had been rebuilt, and Hope didn’t doubt it. No one could develop such a terrible demeanour on purpose without serious life experience. Keerla must have had a lot of hatred in her heart before the goddess of love picked her to lead them.

“You’re late, Hope,” Keerla said and folded her arms behind her back. “Excuses?”

“I only seek forgiveness.” Hope bowed.

“You’re learning.” Keerla turned on her heel and waved for Hope to walk with her. “Excuses shirk responsibility.”

“Yes, High Priestess.”

Hope expected them to visit a punishment chamber, as usual, but Keerla guided her towards her office at the opposite end of the main hall. She did not like how the disciples who noticed where they were headed started to whisper amongst themselves. Couldn’t they show her a little support, even if they thought of her as monstrous?

Keerla unlocked her office, pointed for Hope to step inside, and shut the door behind them. Hope heard her tails thump the stone floor, too hard, too loud, so she raised them to her side and held them in her hands.

Keerla’s office lacked windows. It had a desk someone had donated to the temple, a couple of wooden chairs, and three bookcases with visible cracks in them. The Amiciers’ library exhibited great luxury by comparison.

“You’ve failed in your duties, but I’m willing to give you a second chance.” Keerla took her seat behind the desk. “Will you accept it?”

“H-how have I failed, High Priestess?”

“Don’t question me.” Keerla snarled. “I gave you a simple duty, which you chose to neglect and never report upon, even though I was aware of the family’s transgressions long before I sent you there. Do you think you’d be the first disciple I’d send to a family as esteemed as the Amiciers? Hope, you were their last chance.”

Hope clutched the tips of her tails. “What could I have done…“

“I’ll hear no more on this subject from you,” Kerla said. “Will you accept your second chance? You’re free to leave the temple, but I’m required to extend a second and third chance to everyone. Love doesn’t give up on its disciples, even when they’re like you.”

“Yes, High Priestess.” Hope bowed deep, so she wouldn’t have to look at Keerla. What could she have done to save the Amiciers? What did Keerla mean when she said she’d been their last chance?

“Splendid. Go, leave, find a suitable chamber in the reformation corridor. I’ll send someone to remind you of the goddess’ teachings in a moment.”

Hope backed out of the office and had to steel her heart as she walked through the main hall, lest someone see her cry. She made it into the dreary reformation corridor, found an empty cell, or a punishment chamber as disciples called it, and stopped trying to hold back her tears.

Strangely, tears did not come. She curled up on a bench in the corner, shuddered as woe gripped her heart, and a heavy lump appeared in her stomach, and prayed for someone to do something for the Amiciers. If the goddess was actually real, she had much to explain. Hope could not believe in her unless she justified the actions of her high priestess.

“Prayers born of a broken heart are the literal worst.” A woman appeared next to her on the bench, cricked her neck, and groaned. She was taller than most and looked odd with her horns, purple skin, and wings.

“Who are…” Hope trailed off, a distant memory came to her out of nowhere. They’d met before. She couldn’t recall when or where, but she knew it with certainty. She’d seen this woman’s face somewhere. Years ago.

“Long story short, I’m Furore.” Furore put her back against the wall. “And I may, or may not have, lost control over this place.”

“You’re my mother…”

“Woooah, kid.” Furore threw her hands up. “Slow down. I may have pulled you out of whatever your mother was, but I’m not her. If anything, I’d be your father. I don’t have a… a womb.”

“Where did you come from?”

“We don’t have the time, I’m afraid.” Furore winked. “What’s her name?”

“Her name?” Hope grabbed her tails again, stroked them for comfort.

“The woman your heart needs me to save to stop it from shattering?”

“Oh…” Hope didn’t want to confess how badly she’d failed to this stranger. Yet if there was a chance Furore could save the Amiciers from whatever Keerla had planned, no matter how slim it may be, Hope should get on her knees and beg.

She slid off the bench, onto the floor, and bowed. “Venviel, Tha—“

“Got it.” Furore shot her a tired smile and vanished.

“You didn’t let me finish…” Hope felt sick to her stomach. “You didn’t…” She didn’t vomit, she banged her fists against the bench and wailed. “Come back! Let me finish their names!”

Loss of Life

Venviel burst into her burning home. She didn’t listen to the loud protests of the neighbours who’d gathered in the street. They could fetch water to extinguish the fire, if they thought it important, but her priority couldn’t be the building. She hadn’t seen her parents among the onlookers.

“Mother! Father!” She shouted, pushed through the smoke in the hallway, yet got no response.

Her throat stung. She covered her mouth, coughed, and tried to extend her breaths to suffocate slower.

“Thalia! Corym!”

No response.

If Venviel met Hope again, if her parents didn’t make it out of the mansion unscathed, she would demonstrate to the traitor that she could be twenty times as bad as the worst bully. She’d scar Hope for life. Every single day.

Venviel checked the dining hall, found it empty, and tried the door to the office, but it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t seem locked. The door just wouldn’t open inwards, as if someone had blocked it on purpose.

“Mother!” She threw herself against the door, heard the wood creak, but it didn’t break. “Father…”

With each breath, it became harder and harder to breathe. She’d inhaled too much smoke, had to gasp for air, but it couldn’t affect her efforts.

Venviel pressed her back against the door of the office, tried to lower herself under the smoke, and pushed with every bit of strength she possessed. Her feet struggled to find footholds on the flat surface beneath them.

The door budged when she wedged the heels of her boots into a large crack between two floorboards. It didn’t move anywhere near as fast as it needed to, but it moved. She would get it open, discover her parents safe inside, and save the day.

Smoke invaded and subjugated her airways. It was like being underwater for far too long, except she had no surface to swim towards.

The temple had transformed her home into a prison of ash. She wheezed and managed to force the door open before she fainted.

Only fire and intense heat awaited her in the office. She couldn’t see or hear anyone beyond the flames. Venviel crawled along the floor to escape her doom, but couldn’t close the door once she’d gotten it open, and couldn’t rise to her feet and run.

If she ran, she’d leave her parents to their fates, and she wouldn’t get far before she collapsed. Somehow, she had to scale the stairs and get to the second floor. Thalia and Corym had to be in their bedroom.

The ceiling collapsed and wrecked the railings of the staircase. She’d never get to slide down them again. That guilty pleasure was destroyed along with the mansion, just like she would be if she didn’t escape.

Hope would pay dearly for betraying them. Venviel swore it on her life.

The edges of her vision blackened. Her foot got caught on something, but she couldn’t lift her limbs, move, or fight off death. The gods claimed her for themselves.

She would return like a vengeful spirit bent on the destruction of a single disciple.

A bright light materialized ahead of her to reveal a horned silhouette. They dragged her by the foot, but she couldn’t tell where. She died.

And awakened again, gods knew how many hours later, on a white, sandy beach. The sound of waves echoed around her while seagulls soared and squawked far above.

“Don’t like my experiment, do you?” The horned silhouette asked. “Never thought she’d inspire such hatred in someone she adores. I know her life hasn’t been the easiest, but no one has sworn to haunt her for eternity before.”

Venviel blinked, and breathed, and blinked. Her vision cleared enough for her to get a good glimpse of the woman who’d brought her to the beach. She resembled Hope far too much with her horns and purple skin for Venviel to be filled with anything besides contempt.

“I’ll kill her for…” Venviel paused and inhaled air like a greedy human. “Betraying me. Betraying us.”

“Sure.” The horned woman nodded. “You could do that. Absolutely. Or you could thank her for saving the life you planned to throw on a holy pyre.”

“Who are you to lecture me?” Venviel coughed, her lungs burnt. Someone must have stuffed them full of cinders.

“Furore, goddess of love, creator of the theocracy that’s corrupted Lho Allanar.” Furore sighed and stared out across the ocean.

Venviel laughed to quell the grief. “You would claim me, after killing my parents… I never believed in you before, so I must do it now.”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, Venviel.” Furore ran a hand over her chest and dropped glowing sparks through the remains of her burnt clothes. The ache in her lungs eased. “I made mistakes when I created my temple. I didn’t show due respect to the other gods. But I’m not alone, never was. And no, I won’t demand you believe in me.”

“Screw your mistakes. I want my mother and father.”

“The temple, and the inhabitants of Lho Allanar, will go on without you and yours,” Furore said. “They’ve gone on without me, more or less. We’re yesterday’s mistakes, unless you’d like to alter your fate.”

Venviel should hold Furore accountable for her parents’ demise, not listen to nonsense, yet she knew she couldn’t fight a goddess. She was far too weak, too unsure if she’d died or lived. She should feel healthier, whole, if this beach was part of the afterlife.

“How?” She asked.

“I have suggestions, but you best lay low, start slow. It’s going to take time.” Furore squeezed her shoulder and observed her with blood-red irises. “Someone’s watching us.”

Five Years Later

“Inquisitor Hope.” Keerla watched her with pride for the first time ever.

“High Priestess, you sent for me.” Hope held her head high. She’d grown somewhat taller while serving the temple as a disciple.

“I did.” Keerla grabbed a scroll on top of the desk and extended it towards Hope. “I have your first mission. I believe it may suit your inclinations.”

Hope took the scroll and unrolled it. She’d expected more information, but only two words were written on the parchment. Orchid Brave. It seemed a waste for the temple to write something so cryptic on a scroll. Keerla could have whispered it in her ear, if it had to remain a secret.

Hope rolled the scroll up and attached it to the belt around her waist. She no longer wore a dress. She’d had to discard it when it had started to fall apart at the seams, and after she’d been recognized as an inquisitor, they’d given her the kind of thick, protective blue coat every inquisitor wore.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, High Priestess.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Inquisitor.” Keerla feigned a smile. “I trust that won’t remain the case for long, however. This Orchid Brave, be they a person, organization, or myth, need to be found and brought before me. Before the temple and the goddess.”

“My mission is to uncover the truth behind the name.” Hope nodded. “I’ll do my best, High Priestess. Do you have anything more to go on?”

“We don’t.” Keerla shook her head and a familiar scowl appeared on her face. “Whoever they are, they know Lho Allanar well. They’ve stayed hidden for years. It’s only now that they’ve gotten braver, as it were, and risen to fame. They’re an unknown in most worthwhile circles, and it needs to stay that way, but the lower class… Those unfortunate souls who have filled their hearts with hatred, practically worship this Orchid Brave.”

“That gives me an idea of where to start.” Hope bowed. “May I excuse myself?”

“You may.”

Hope strode out of Keerla’s office. The main hall hadn’t changed since her days as a disciple, but the reactions she drew from younger disciples and priestesses had. They no longer whispered about her publicly. They shut their mouths whenever she got close.

Hope may not fit in after she’d become an inquisitor, but she’d gotten used to being an outsider. She understood she would never belong anywhere, accepted it, and in a sense, it was what made her perfect for her role. Once, no one had trusted her because of her looks. Today, no one trusted her because she was an inquisitor. Everyone expected her to report them to Keerla.

If they blasphemed or broke the rules, she would. Too many years had flown by in desolation for her to think they deserved less. If she stepped on someone’s toes, it would only be fair. They hadn’t showed her sympathy.

Hope exited the temple, took a deep breath, and gazed down at Lho Allanar. The sun had set on the city, lamps were being lit in the streets. She didn’t have to stay at the temple as an inquisitor, not when she had a mission. She would achieve faster results if she blended in with the commoners.

She descended the hill, with careful steps, and glanced towards the mansions in the quarter of the city where she’d once worked for the Amiciers. The mansion with the cozy library and its gentle inhabitants no longer existed. It had been replaced by another.

She had no idea what had happened to Thalia, Corym, or Venviel. At a certain point, a year or so after the fire, she’d acknowledged she would never get the answers she sought. If no one had saved the Amiciers, she’d betrayed the rare type of people who respected her, and she would never learn their fates.

Regardless of others’ opinions of her, Hope would always hate herself more than anyone else could. She’d become a genuine monster when she’d donned the coat of an inquisitor.

Orchid Brave

Venviel sat at her usual table on the second floor of the Spicy Tankard. From her seat, she had a clear view of the rowdy, drunk patrons below. They drank, cheered, bragged about their exploits, and laughed. The majority of them were seafaring elves, but she did spot a human here and there.

Humans rarely lived in Lho Allanar, or stayed longer than days, but since trade had blossomed between the city, Algora, and Xenthien in recent decades, human sailors and merchants had become common.

“I have it on good authority they’ve sent someone after you.” Furore appeared next to her, while the beginning of a bar fight distracted the drunkards. The goddess preferred to look like a dark-skinned female elf wearing sailor’s clothes among people. “Someone you know, and who I think will make a fine addition to the thing you’re doing.”

“Mhmm.” Venviel raised her glass of awakened wine and sipped on it. The wine tasted bitter, bubbled in her throat.

“You are doing the thing, right? You didn’t stop while I was busy spying?” Furore placed her elbows on the sticky table and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “Would be such a shame if I found out what’s going on, and you stopped doing the thing, you know.”

“I haven’t.” Venviel moved her leg to make sure the rapier and dagger were still attached to her leather trousers. “I’ll have revenge.”

“About that…” Furore smirked. “It’s Hope they’ve sent after you. You remember, right? You had a crush on her when she worked—“

“I didn’t!” Venviel raised her voice and attracted more attention than she’d intended. The patrons stared at her for a second or two before they resumed drinking.

“I didn’t have a crush on Hope,” Venviel whispered. “I swore revenge on her after my parents died.”

“It’s a shame what happened.” Furore nodded. “But you would definitely have jumped her bones if given the chance.”

“No, Furore, I would’ve continued to treat her like—“

“You would have jumped her bones if you’d earned your mask back then.” Furore grinned. “Alas, it seems you became brave too late.”

Venviel squeezed the glass in her hand. “Did you forget why I’m doing this?”

“Sadly, you’ll never have a second chance to save your mother or father, but you’ll have a second chance to bone Hope. I’d suggest you take it before she dies too.”

“Wow, I… Wow.”

Venviel hadn’t known if she’d believed in love when she’d been younger, and now that she’d been given irrefutable proof that the goddess existed, she would have liked to have literally anyone else as a confidant. The king of Algora. A pack of rabid wolves. Anyone. Hope, included, if only because it would have given her a chance to stab the maid in the back.

“Why did they send Hope, in particular?” Venviel took another sip of her wine.

“She’s an inquisitor. She defends the temple from people like you.”

“Hope? Really? The shy maid has become an inquisitor?”

“Everyone changes, Venviel.” Furore rose from the table and brushed Venviel’s arm with her long nails. “Who knows? She might jump your bones when she discovers you’re alive. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

“I would.” Furore chuckled, headed downstairs, and disappeared in the crowd.

Venviel only wanted answers. No more. Hope may not have betrayed them on purpose, so it might best to give her the benefit of the doubt. She might glean more information that way. Maybe even learn who’d given the order to burn their mansion to the ground.

Obviously, Hope would not have risen to the rank of inquisitor if she’d failed with whatever task the temple had assigned her regarding Thalia and Corym. Venviel wouldn’t forgive the traitor, or forget her sins, and she’d never entertain any other feeling for Hope than resentment, but she could use her. Furore could tell every sick joke she could think of, it would change nothing. Venviel would make Hope repent.

Broker

The magical azure lights of the dockside lamps bathed the buildings in soft, faint hues. Waves rolled against the wharf, while the wind tore at her coat and carried the salty ocean air across Lho Allanar.

Hope walked in the middle of the street and like usual most citizens moved out of her path. Only the drunks outside of boisterous taverns were stupid enough to shout insults at her, and then they slurred their words to the point where she could barely make sense of them.

She hadn’t come to the docks to fight drunks though. She could outsmart those any day of the week. No, she’d come to the docks to acquire information.

The inhabitants of the slums, and less fortunate quarters of Lho Allanar, would not talk to her. They would not give up their hero to a known member of the temple. If she wanted information, she had to pay someone unscrupulous enough to sell their mother to a slaver.

Hope made sure no one followed her before she walked up to a seedy dive and slipped into the alley between it and a rundown warehouse. She’d made contacts during her life in Lho Allanar. Not the kind of contacts she’d call friends, or trust, but the kind she believed would prove useful in service to the temple. She viewed herself as a diplomat of sorts. Since the high priestess couldn’t seek out fences or information brokers, she had to do it.

Hope whistled a tune outside of an open window, continued further into the shadows, trudged through mud and garbage, and stopped outside of a door in the back. She knew it was locked without trying the rusty handle. She waited for someone to repeat the tune she’d whistled.

A minute or so passed in silence while she stood in the alley and gripped the mace in her belt. She fidgeted, grew nervous. She wouldn’t receive backup. If she got stabbed and killed in a back alley of the city, the high priestess would pretend like she’d had no idea why one of her inquisitors had skulked around like a common thief.

Eventually, someone did repeat the familiar tune, but it didn’t come from the window she’d passed. It came from somewhere above, like the second floor or the rooftops. The door still didn’t open.

Hope raised her gaze, noticed movement on top of the tavern, but didn’t get a chance to call out to the person before someone hit her over the head.

She hissed in pain and unsheathed her mace. Even though the first blow had hurt more than it had affected her ability to fight back, the second brought her to her knees.

“Thickheaded.”

“She gotta be with those horns. How else will she fight other goats?”

“Shut up, smartass.”

She recognized the voice of one of the men as the information broker she’d planned to ask for help. He’d called her a goat. Oddly, she found it worse than monster. It degraded and transformed her into a mindless animal.

They struck her a third time, before she could rise to her feet, and knocked her out cold.

Hope dreamt of fluffy white clouds and sheep which leapt over meadows. Outside of the dreams, outside of the void, her body moved without her input. She didn’t get to decide where to go or how to get there.

Someone carried her, and her limbs didn’t react when she fought to regain control of them. She tried to scream but only created a muffled noise that died on the rag someone had shoved in her mouth.

The sheep and fluffy clouds bounced in front of her in distant lands, but it became harder to tell them apart. Which was a sheep? Which was a cloud? Did it matter? Wouldn’t everyone evolve into clouds one day?

Someone had kidnapped her. She ought to be furious with herself for seeking out such a treacherous fool, but she found it difficult to overlook the cloud that got in her face and licked her. Its bark sounded like metal against metal.

Swords clashed.

Hope screamed into the rag in her mouth, forced her eyes open. A splitting headache warned her that she best return to the clouds, and the sheep, if she wanted to avoid a painful death, but she ignored it.

She found herself bound and gagged on the cold ground next to a boat. Her kidnapper must have planned to bring her far away, but someone had interrupted their plan. She heard the clinging of metal reverberate through the night air when blades connected. Then a man groaned in anger, fled the scene with heavy steps, and everything went silent for a while.

“Your friend decided you’d fetch a higher price than you’d pay,” a woman said. “Truthfully, you should’ve been cautious, inquisitor. No one tolerates a dog sent by a tyrant. Not long.”

Hope would have retorted, but her saviour only rolled her around. She did not remove her gag or untie her hands.

The woman wore a masquerade mask, which concealed the upper half of her face, and a plain, white shirt along with brown pants that gave away how she must be a sailor, if she hadn’t stolen the outfit.

“A little bird told me you were sent to find Orchid Brave?” The woman bent next to her, smiled under the mask, and pointed the tip of a rapier against Hope’s throat. “Peculiar then, that I should find you first. Not very difficult, I assure you, but it does bring about a dilemma. Should I slit your throat and roll you into the ocean, or should I set you free?”

Hope did not respond. Partly because she couldn’t with the gag, and partly because she didn’t want to beg for her life. If this vigilante intended to get rid of her, she’d wasted an opportune movement when she’d saved Hope from her kidnappers. She could have let them have her.

“You…” Orchid Brave stared into Hope’s eyes, lowered her rapier, raised a hand to her face, and slid the gag down slowly. “There.”

“Keerla, High Priestess of the temple, ordered me to—“

“Shush.” Orchid Brave stuffed the gag back between her lips. “I don’t want to hear about her, unless you bring me news of her death. So, inquisitor, how do you want it? Should I remove the gag?”

Hope nodded. She wouldn’t get anywhere with this woman if she couldn’t talk. An inquisitor’s skillset relied upon outsmarting their targets, and it was difficult to do when she couldn’t speak or move.

To her disbelief, the vigilante stared into her eyes like she’d fallen into a tranquil state against her will and caressed her cheek. Hope had to squirm in her restraints to snap Orchid Brave out of her self-inflicted hypnosis.

“You’re mesmerizing…” She removed Hope’s gag and threw it in the ocean.

Hope frowned and wondered if she still had her mace or not. “Flattery will get you nowhere. You’re a criminal, and I’m…”

“An inquisitor?”

“A monster.”

“I would never call you a monster.” Orchid Brave smirked. “A traitor, backstabber, and coward though. Yes, those would fit. But you wouldn’t be a monster without the temple. You’d be mesmerizing. Stunning.”

“I…” Hope assumed the woman lied, or toyed with her, but she detected no dishonesty in her words. Only stark sincerity. What kind of elf found someone like her attractive?

“Let’s go.” Orchid Brave rolled Hope into the boat, jumped after her, and grabbed the oars. She didn’t bother untying her wrists or legs.

Through The City

Venviel rowed westward along the docks until they reached the canal inlet which would take them, through the wet garden, to her hideout. The palace ruins towered on rocky cliffs above. A fallen giant which still hadn’t been restored to its former glory, despite how five-hundred years had elapsed since Lho Allanar’s resurrection.

Furore may be a fiend, a trickster, but she had provided Venviel with a new home by showing her the ancient tunnels under the palace. The goddess had forced Venviel to promise she wouldn’t explore them on her own though, since apparently, they originated deep below the earth, and no one knew what dwelt there. Except maybe Fayeth, but the queen of peace had decided to sail the world with her pet, so she wasn’t around.

Venviel had thought herself ready to meet Hope again, after five years, but she’d been mistaken. While she’d practiced her swordsmanship and rebelled against the temple from behind a mask, Hope had grown taller, older, and undeniably more attractive.

The once shy maid glared at Venviel in a way that made her weak and small. She could see why the high priestess had chosen Hope as an inquisitor. Hope’s eyes still mesmerized her, whenever she stared into their depths, but now the maid didn’t grow flustered. Hope just kept staring, without saying a word, without complaining. She bored into Venviel’s soul and threatened to consume her mind.

“You won’t untie me?”

“I like watching someone like you squirm,” Venviel said and rowed into the canal. Nearby, around a corner, she could hear the fountains of the wet garden, but the streets lay quiet.

“Someone like me?”

“A mindless servant of the goddess.” Venviel realized she might be accused of being the same, but then, few knew the truth about Furore. Everyone thought the goddess of love looked like the luscious elf statues.

“A monster…” Hope struggled with the ropes around her wrists until she almost tumbled out of the boat.

Venviel quickly grabbed her by the coat to keep her inside. “Not a monster. An inquisitor.”

“So a monster.”

“Why are you this hard on yourself, Hope?” Venviel asked, pulled the inquisitor into a better position, and tore her gaze away before she could become spellbound again.

“None of your business.”

Venviel focused on rowing. The boat floated into the wet garden, where trimmed trees, rare black roses, orchids, and ice lilies had been placed on elevated platforms in the middle. Water flowed constantly along the paths and curves of spiraling fountains, rained down in front of archways under bridges.

The wet garden served as a crossing where the canal split into four different sections, but it wouldn’t take anyone far into the city. It had been built as a pastime for royals, centuries ago. These days it was an area of relaxation, a park, for Lho Allanar’s modern inhabitants. They didn’t have kings or queens.

Venviel pushed the boat around the decorative platforms with the oars, yet no matter what she did, the water of the archways would drench them. Whoever had designed the wet garden hadn’t intended for anyone to row through it, even though they’d made it wide enough.

“I trust you don’t mind a little water,” Venviel said, placed an oar against the side of a platform with a young birch on it, and pushed with all her might. The boat rushed into the darkness under a bridge. Water fell on her head, dripped into the boat, and landed on Hope’s coat with quiet thuds.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To a secret place.” Venviel considered removing her mask in the darkness and springing her secret on Hope, but no, she wanted to do it at the right time, the right moment. She shouldn’t do it because of impulse.

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“I…” Venviel hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it might prove necessary. Hope would learn where to find her, if Venviel brought her to her hideout, and she couldn’t trust the inquisitor to keep a secret. She couldn’t trust Hope to do anything except betray her, but maybe she could use that understanding against the temple.

“You do, don’t you?”

“No, I would never…” She trailed off.

More water fell on her head as the boat emerged on the other side of the bridge, and she rowed toward an unseen entrance. If she allowed the boat to float by the hidden tunnel, Hope would never discover where she’d hid the last five years. The inquisitor would continue to think she’d died with her parents.

Venviel might accomplish more if she didn’t reveal her true identity to anyone, yet she couldn’t not do it. She wanted revenge on Hope as much as she wanted revenge on the rest of the theocracy. And she wouldn’t get revenge if Hope never saw her face.

She rowed along the wall of the canal, listened for anyone which might hear them from the street, and pushed a certain stone deeper into its place until it clicked. Soundlessly, part of the wall rose out of the water and bared lit torches inside of a tunnel.

“You’re going to have to kill me to keep this secret.”

“I’ve got a couple of books,” Venviel said it to change the subject, yet the look she received from the inquisitor took her by surprise. She’d expected a lot from the traitor, but not grief.

“Who told you my name? You called me Hope earlier. It’s not a name most people would know, unless…” Hope looked into the water. “They knew me, personally. “

“Anyone could have told me your name.” Venviel brought the boat into the tunnel, pushed another stone on her right, and watched the wall sink into the canal again.

“No, it’s—“

“Anyone could have told me your name is Hope! Lho Allanar is massive. Thousands must know you.”

“Reminds me of a book I read,” Hope said while the city disappeared behind the sinking wall and left them alone in wavering torch light. “About a woman who becomes a vigilante to impress their lover. You’re not bringing me here to impress me, are you, Orchid Brave?”

“No.”

“Can we still be lovers though?”

Despite her lust for revenge, Venviel blushed.

Rendezvous

The second Hope made Orchid Brave blush she realized she could outsmart her, yet if the woman under the mask was who she suspected, she didn’t think she’d like to. She wanted to confirm her identity, and might have asked under other circumstances, but her brain repeated the moment when Venviel had called her mesmerizing. Over and over.

Every social interaction of her life stood out in great contrast to that single moment with Venviel on the docks, less than an hour ago. What had happened to the elf since the day they’d walked in her family’s garden? Why had she not tried to find Hope earlier?

Five years had passed, and now, when she sat tied in a boat, Hope couldn’t help but to watch the woman under the mask with budding desire. She shouldn’t want anyone. She’d subdued her sexuality better than other disciples, and it had set her on the path to becoming an inquisitor. Priestesses of the goddess of love couldn’t deny their hearts.

Why did Keerla want Orchid Brave captured? Did the high priestess know her identity? Did she also suspect the threat to the temple was Venviel Amicier? Keerla could have lied to Hope. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“We’re here,” Venviel said, climbed out of the boat onto a wooden ledge, and offered Hope a hand.

“You’ve not untied me yet,” Hope said. “Did you forget, or do you find my helplessness charming? Are you a deviant?”

“I’m not a deviant!” Venviel shouted, her voice echoed throughout the tunnels.

“How am I supposed to take your hand if you haven’t untied me then?”

“I can untie you…” Venviel reached for the ropes, yet hesitated when Hope turned around to make it easier on her.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t trust you,” Venviel whispered, ran her fingers along Hope’s wrists, and waited.

She couldn’t remember if they’d touched in the past, when she’d volunteered as a maid. If they had, her skin hadn’t surged with such anticipation.

“You shouldn’t.” Hope scooted closer to Venviel and bumped into her mask. “You don’t know me like you once did.”

“I never knew you…”

“But you remembered my name, Venviel.”

Silence reigned in the tunnels. Overbearing, deafening silence which would swallow her whole. Hope almost thought she heard spiders spin their webs around them. She could hear Venviel breathe and liked to imagine that the breeze against her skin was the elf’s exhalation. She couldn’t think of another source underground.

“Of all names, why would you guess that name? You must’ve met hundreds of elves.”

“I want it to be you.” Hope clenched her eyes shut. “I need it to be. I feared you all died because of…”

“Because of you.” Venviel tightened the knots around her wrists, lifted her out of the boat, and slung her over her shoulder.

“Because of me.” She could beg Venviel for forgiveness, for failing her and her parents, but she doubted she would receive it if the once wealthy woman now lived in damp, chilly tunnels under Lho Allanar.

“Why did you do it? Why betray us?”

“I…” Hope didn’t have an excuse. At the time, she’d not been aware she’d betrayed anyone, but she should have known Keerla wouldn’t trust her with the Amiciers. The high priestess had viewed her as a joke from the beginning. “I didn’t think I did. I believed I did everything in my power to prevent that outcome.”

“You can’t…” Venviel trailed off, as she always seemed to do whenever Hope expected an insult. They rarely came from Venviel. She’d called her mesmerizing and stunning. No one had ever complimented Hope before and meant it. She doubted it would happen again.

Venviel carried her through a narrow tunnel where light floated midair as wild, uncontrollable sparks. Her shoulder dug into Hope’s stomach, which wasn’t the most comfortable, but she got used to it.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Hope said. “Your parents showed me great kindness, I never forgot that. If you are who I think you are, I want you to know I wish we could’ve enjoyed more time together.”

Venviel opened a door, set Hope down in a gloomy, barren room, and dropped the mask on a shelf. Old burn scars covered the skin under her left eye, but otherwise, she looked the same. Elves aged slower than trees.

“I should kill you.” Venviel trembled.

“I won’t blame you, if you do.” Hope donned what she prayed resembled a courageous smile. “I’m sure some god somewhere would call it your right, even if my goddess would punish you for filling your heart with hatred.”

“No.” Venviel snorted. “She wouldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“She encouraged me to jump your bones.”

They were too alone, too close, for such a peculiar statement. Hope doubted Venviel had spoken with the goddess in person, but it might have been a dream. She couldn’t claim Venviel was mistaken though. The goddess of love would indeed encourage love wherever she believed it could blossom.

“I guess you’d have to decide whether to commit to the deviant act or not first.” Hope resisted her restraints by making an apathetic attempt to free her wrists. “I won’t judge.”

“You once promised you wouldn’t lie to me,” Venviel said. “If I untie you, will you stay until I give you permission to leave? Will you tell the temple about my hideout?”

“I’ll wait for your permission.” Hope swallowed, paused. “I won’t tell the temple, but I might tell the high priestess. You should have blindfolded me.”

Venviel grabbed her roughly, spun her around, and undid the ropes. “I don’t believe you’ll never lie to me, but I guess you’ll prove how trustworthy you are given time.”

“I’ll disappoint.” Hope nursed her wrists while Venviel untied her legs. “I have a knack for that, it seems.”

“You haven’t disappointed me.” Venviel finished with the ropes. “I never expected more from you than what I got in the end.”

The soft-spoken words impaled her. They may not have gotten along great, years ago, but she’d wanted to think Venviel hadn’t expected betrayal from her. Although, it explained why she had behaved like she had when they’d been alone.

“If it’d been up to me, I would never have left your library.” Hope faced Venviel. She needed her to hear the sincerity in her voice.

“I’m sure Corym and Thalia would have allowed you stay, permanently, if you’d told them the truth as readily as you tell it to me today.” Venviel scowled and rubbed the corner of her eye with a thumb. “They might have outlived you.”

“I’m sorry…” Hope longed to hug Venviel, if only to console her. “Why did you bring me here, really? To kill me? To get a confession?”

“You came after me.” Venviel crossed her arms, stared into a corner of the room. “I guess I am playing with the idea of killing you, but it seems inadequate when you’re so fucking apologetic and remorseful. You ought to suffer, as I did.”

Hope thought she’d suffered long enough on her own, in solitude, through harassment and insults, but she wasn’t about to tell Venviel that. It wouldn’t suffice, not for her.

“Want to break my heart?”

“How would that count as revenge?”

“If you heal my scars, treat me like an equal to elves for the first time in my life, and make me believe we’re meant to be together…” Hope ought to bite her tongue off, lest it give Venviel ideas for how to break her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “You would have a greater height from which to drop me, so to say. You could ruin my heart, my soul, forever. I’d let you.”

“Why would you let anyone do that to you, Hope?” Venviel grabbed her by her shoulders and glared into her. “You’re…”

“I’m what, Venviel?” Hope smiled, leaned forward, and met the elf’s pretty gaze. Her training reminded her that this was a fantastic moment to stab Venviel, the unsuspecting enemy, and leave her to bleed out. “Am I something to you? Am I someone of worth?”

Venviel averted her gaze, grimaced. “Perhaps.”

“I think I’d have panicked if you’d told me that when I was a maid. Today, I… I haven’t fainted yet.”

“You’ve matured. I saw it when—“

“Oh, you saw it?” Hope rested a hand on Venviel’s chest. “My appearance gave it away, not my title, coat, or bearing?”

“What are you doing?” Venviel glanced down at Hope’s fingers on top of her shirt.

“I wish I could tell you.”

“You read my mother’s books, didn’t you? Surely, they…” Venviel scratched her neck. “They would’ve given you ideas.”

She’d gotten ideas from Blood Rose, she couldn’t deny that, but she hadn’t thought she’d ever get a chance to try them in reality. No one could love a monster. No one. Yet in this moment she practically hugged Venviel, since the elf’s hands still rested on her shoulders.

“Do you want to hug?”

“I don’t think that’s how the story goes.” Venviel chuckled nervously.

Hope took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She knew the stories, how they went, and what often happened. The couple kissed, it was always nerve-racking for the instigator. Why couldn’t Orchid Brave have been someone else than Venviel? How had she ended up in this mess? She’d been given a straightforward mission for once.

“Should I kiss you?”

“They don’t ask, do they…?”

Hope worried Venviel goaded her into embarrassing herself, by refusing tenderness if she didn’t offer it correctly, yet it wasn’t like they had an audience. She wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of anyone else than the goddess.

“I’m sorry.”

“And they definitely don’t apologize, since—“

Hope pushed Venviel up against the wall, pressed their bodies together, and kissed the elf to silence her. She’d accepted that she would go through life without finding someone who could love her, so even a single kiss tasted divine. She would have welcomed a knife between her ribs, to ease Venviel’s need for revenge, since the kiss couldn’t last. She would have died satisfied.

“This is wrong…” Venviel murmured against her lips, yet laid her arms around Hope’s hips.

“You want to be right?”

“You do, or you wouldn’t be an inquisitor.”

“I would’ve starved to death without the temple.” Hope tugged on Venviel’s shirt, unbuttoned the top buttons. “My personal wishes were worthless.”

“Make a wish, ask me, I’ll fulfill it. Before I take revenge.”

“My final wish?” Hope grinned into Venviel’s sweet lips. “To share your bed. I’ve nowhere to go at this hour.”

Joy

Venviel had memorized the exact location of ten knives, three swords, two axes, and a bow in her room, yet she didn’t go for any of them. Hope kissed her. If she’d thought nothing would alleviate her grief, the inquisitor demonstrated how wrong she’d been.

“You can stay,” Venviel said. “But I’m not jumping your bones.”

Hope giggled, then out of nowhere her giggles transformed into sobs, and she broke their kiss to reside between Venviel’s arms. They hugged, breathed against each other. Venviel figured they may as well share a heartbeat.

She’d had numerous lovers over the last five years, but she’d not felt close to them. Hope may have brought about her misfortune, but it only made it easier for Venviel to think they shared common ground. None of her recent romantic endeavours had known her true identity. None had cared. They’d wanted her alter ego, Orchid Brave.

“Why aren’t you repulsed?” Hope whispered. Her twin tails thumped the stone floor underneath them.

“We don’t all share the same outlook.” Venviel stroked Hope’s back. “Or the same tastes. Guess I just see an anomaly that intrigues me.”

“You think I’m odd?”

“Almost solely on the outside.”

Hope snorted. Fresh tears stained her lavender cheeks. Venviel allowed herself to linger in Hope’s eyes where dream and reality collided. When she died, she would like Hope to be there to ease her passing. She could drift peacefully into the abyss with the inquisitor by her side. She’d forget everything if she could gaze into her soul.

“I mourned you, Venviel. I’m glad it was in vain though, since I barely got a chance to befriend you.”

“We can’t be friends. We’ve skipped that stage, whether you’d like to admit it or not.”

Hope nodded, stepped away, and put distance between them. “You’re right. Keerla asked me to treat you like an enemy of society.”

“Is it a society you wish to belong to, or a society that hasn’t given you a choice?”

“You know the answer.”

Venviel sighed. She didn’t trust Hope, especially not after she’d become an inquisitor. She’d fantasized about having Hope in this room, but in those fantasies, Hope had never been free to move around and inspect the shelves and the single bed. No, Hope had been a beaten, bloody excuse for a woman chained in the corner.

Unfettered rage had given rise to those fantasies. Revenge had birthed hatred. Furore had loved to teach her what a sinner she was, but maybe the temple wasn’t wrong. Maybe they simply enforced their rules with the most insane methods.

She couldn’t tell where it left the two of them. Was she supposed to treat Hope like a friend? Should she forgive her? Or could she take Hope up on her twisted offer and break her heart? The suggestion had its appeal. She wouldn’t have to kill someone who might be innocent.

Hope sat on her bed, patted the worn blankets, and smiled to herself. Her tails swished back and forth. They would have to sleep in each other’s arms, if neither offered to sleep on the floor, if Hope had been serious about staying the night.

Venviel ran her fingers along her own arms and shivered. She did desire Hope. Maybe she had done so longer than she’d like to admit, but it was particularly obvious after their kiss. She regretted how they’d stopped.

“You’re free to leave in the morning,” Venviel said. She might have to relocate deeper into the tunnels, where Furore wouldn’t discover her, but she didn’t fear what dwelt in the depths as much as she feared the temple. “Should I… sleep on the floor?”

“What? No.” Hope shook her head. “I can sleep on the floor, since your bed is rather… small.”

“Are you sure?”

The twin tails danced across the blankets. Venviel approached Hope and sat down next to her. She craved another kiss. An unquenchable thirst begged her to live up to her alter ego. Be brave, be brave.

“I don’t…” Hope said. “I want to sleep wrapped in you. I’m sick of sleeping on hard surfaces, on benches, alone.”

The tips of her tails jumped into Venviel’s lap, so she grabbed them and caressed them with her fingers. A noticeable quiver ran through Hope’s lithe frame.

“Nothing sexual,” Venviel said. “I’ve heard about inquisitor tricks.”

Hope nodded and slid her arms out of her coat, her tails escaped Venviel’s grasp. “Some of the disciples used to sleep huddled together, on the coldest nights. I never had anyone to try it with.”

“You won’t freeze with me.” Venviel took Hope’s coat, folded it into a neat pile, and threw it on the floor.

Hope giggled. Venviel pounced on her, kissed welcoming lips, and pushed the blankets to the side for the both of them. She heard no complaints. Hope pulled on her shirt, for a bit, before Venviel grabbed her hands to prevent either of them from going too far, too soon.

“We’ll sleep.” Venviel dragged the blankets over them. She didn’t have to undress. And if Hope undressed, she didn’t want to consider what might happen. The inquisitor should keep her undershirt on.

“And kiss?” Hope pecked her on the nose, stroked her neck. The twin tails wrapped themselves around Venviel’s legs.

“It’s impossible to resist now we’ve begun, isn’t it?”

Fate

“They’re awfully dull, aren’t they? Furore?”

“I suppose,” Furore said, carved lines into the dark wooden table with her jagged glass dagger, and glanced at Fate.

The goddess of luck and destiny looked like a satyr crafted out of solid gold with the ears of a deer, a squished nose, and a sharp chin. She poked the crystal ball she’d placed in the middle of the table, and waited for Venviel or Hope inside of it to react, but of course, they didn’t. They couldn’t hear Fate. The crystal ball depicted a reflection of the mortal world.

“You promised they’d be fun, but they’re boring.” Fate observed Furore with doe-eyes. “They forgave each other so fast. No drama.”

“They haven’t forgiven each other, not yet, and Thalia and Corym died because you demanded it.” Furore scratched herself behind her horns with the tip of the dagger. “What more do you require?”

“Drama.” Fate steepled her gold fingers, stared at the couple in the crystal ball. “I have thousands of little ways to sow discord. Thousands. They shan’t reunite and fall in love.”

“I’m obligated to object.” Furore yawned. “I have a list, and I did write their names on it. If you haven’t forgotten, dear, I am the goddess of love.”

“Dear?” Fate sat frozen in contemplation. She may as well have turned into a statue. “Fine, they’ll love, but not fast.”

“It’s been five years…”

“We are eternal. Five years, blink of an eye.” Fate blinked to emphasize her point.

“How about you whisper in the high priestess’ ear, like you do, and I do my best to convince the fools that I have their best interests at heart?” Furore chuckled. She’d gotten somewhat sick of love-struck idiots, over the decades, but Fate brought a certain light back into her corrupt soul. “We’ll screw them together.”

“No.” Fate disappeared and reappeared straddling Furore’s lap. She weighed less than the gold of her body would suggest. “You give your temple, your Keerla, new rules, and I screw you. No affairs with mortals. Detestable gods who do that.”

“I shouldn’t change the rules again,” Furore said but groaned when Fate pressed her butt down on her groin and shoved her golden chest in her face. “Drama, you say?”

“Mm.” Fate nodded.

“I’ll consider new rules.”

Prayer

Hope left Venviel early in the morning, since she knew she’d become someone else if she stayed. They parted by the canal, while the sun crawled across the horizon, and she realized she would not visit the tunnels Venviel had stayed in again. Venviel did not trust her, despite what her actions might suggest. She fully believed she would run to the temple and sell her out.

As an inquisitor, Hope had a duty to fulfill, but as a woman, she had a heart, compassion, feelings. She could tell Keerla everything, or she could defy the goddess and help Venviel. Other inquisitors might have viewed it as an easy choice. But Hope had no idea what to do. Her mind fluttered like a butterfly between different choices, different roses.

She’d failed Corym and Thalia, so she ought to do everything in her power to protect Venviel, right? She shouldn’t disappoint the woman who’d given her her first kiss. On the other hand, Venviel could protect herself. And if Hope failed to provide substantial evidence for Keerla, she would be expelled from serving in the temple. Sooner or later, she would be on her own and wouldn’t survive long.

No one respected her without the temple, no one feared her without the coat of an inquisitor, and no one thought of her as their equal. The poor treated her like the source of their troubles. The rich didn’t think twice about her, unless she pestered them.

Hope couldn’t rely on Venviel either, if she was expelled. Truth be told, she didn’t trust the elf any more than Venviel trusted her. If they relied on each other, they might rise together, or they might fall victim to Keerla’s ruthless methods. It was for the best if they never met again. They would both be protected that way.

Hope walked the empty streets, unsure of how to use the intel she’d gathered about the Orchid Brave, and headed for the center of Lho Allanar. The buildings along the streets in this quarter may be as old as the palace. Their high marble walls and small, square windows reminded her of the kind of defensive outposts Syvis described in her books. She didn’t see many elves outside, but they could be watching her from the safety of their homes. They may even report her for suspicious behaviour, if they were in good standing with the temple.

The architecture changed the closer she got to the center of the city. The buildings became smaller, newer. Some of them were built into thick, tall trees with sprawling canopies, while others had sandy stone walls.

She’d never ventured far into the Freow Woods, north of the city, herself, but the tree houses did remind her of a forest. The main difference between the trees in the Freow Woods and the tree houses of Lho Allanar could be seen in their placement. The tree houses adhered to the structure of the city. They didn’t listen to the call of nature.

Hope arrived at a grand plaza, alongside a dozen elves in tattered robes, while a line formed outside of one of the shrines. The shrine had three walls, twenty tables, and a large statue of the goddess which watched everyone from the backmost wall.

The line consisted of the homeless, aged, and sick. They were fed in the morning, and late at night, when the crowds of Lho Allanar had dispersed. When those with love in their hearts had gone home, so those consumed by hatred could show themselves outside without being harassed.

Hope had waited in many lines to various shrines, as an orphan. If it hadn’t been for one of the temples’ workers, an old lady, she might still wait in line with everyone else. She might have been forced to sell her own body.

Or she might have gotten stabbed in an alley. She’d often been scared that her numerous tormentors would murder her, because it seemed like nothing more than their lack of imagination prevented it from happening. If someone had had the idea that she should be killed, that could have been it.

It felt wrong for her to stop and stare at the line and the lone worker offering food to those in need without doing something, so she walked over to them. At first, the malnourished faces of men, women, and children reacted with the usual apprehension. Then they saw her coat, the coat of an inquisitor, and had to remind themselves to conceal their fear and loathing.

She knew they would not dare do or say anything to her, however, so she strode up to the worker who’d placed a rickety table with soup and bowls in front of the shrine. He looked like he’d seen a ghost when he noticed her, but quickly changed that expression into a hesitant smile and stopped pouring soup with his ladle.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, inquisit—“

“Don’t call me that,” Hope said. “I wish to help. I’m a concerned citizen.”

“I don’t need—“

“Maybe you don’t need help, but they do.” Hope grabbed one of the ladles he had placed on the table, a stack of bowls, and joined him in his work.

Everyone seemed hesitant, like she would poison their food. They’d probably heard stories about both her, the hate monster, and the work of other inquisitors.

A young elven girl stepped up to break the ice, took the bowl Hope offered, and made the line move again. Soon, everyone forgot her appearance and title. They didn’t care about any of those, if they could eat.

Hope would never feel like she belonged among the elves of Lho Allanar, whether rich or poor, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go. From what she’d learnt about the world, creatures like her did not exist. She did not hail from a distant, foreign land. She was simply an anomaly which most found repulsive, yet Orchid Brave, a hero to the downtrodden, had shared a bed with.

Hope doubted she would forget her night with Venviel, regardless of what happened in her life, or what transpired between them. They could slip into the roles of fierce enemies, effortlessly, if they didn’t take care to avoid such a fate.

Hope couldn’t deny that she had done everything in her power just to stay alive once. If she hadn’t, she would have died on the streets of Lho Allanar as a child. She’d fought hard for her survival. The rest of the world may see a monster or an inquisitor when they observed her, but she was as much of a survivor.

She’d not offered Venviel to break her heart lightly. If the elf needed revenge to gain a semblance of closure, Hope would rather have her heart broken than her life ended. She’d fight for her survival. Venviel didn’t have the right to snuff out her spirit. No, she would retaliate if Venviel tried to kill her, and she would win, even if she had to bloody her hands.

Heroic

Venviel hadn’t discovered the extent of the temple’s debauchery until a couple of years after they’d burnt her home to the ground. She’d heard rumours, sure, but she’d assumed that was all they were. Rumours.

Why would priestesses host parties, with half-naked dancers, that lasted well into the mornings? What kind of people would attend such festivities? How low could Keerla sink?

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have sought answers to any of those questions, because what she’d found was a reality which proved worse than her wildest fantasizes. The priestesses did indeed hold parties with the intent to spread love among their most faithful believers, which exclusively meant the wealthy, and the parties may as well be referred to as orgies.

She suspected her parents may have been involved at some point, while they’d been alive, but didn’t want to think about it. Everyone else she recognized as upper class in the city seemed to show themselves at an orgy, given enough time. A part of her hoped that the reason that Thalia and Corym had met the fate they had was because they’d stopped attending the temple’s gatherings. That they’d refused to show their faces because they’d had a daughter. And Keerla had taken it as a grave insult.

Still, the parties had served a purpose for Venviel. While she lacked the proof to reveal to the rest of Lho Allanar what transpired behind the locked doors of private mansions, she had snuck in and out of many of the homes. The attendees distracted themselves with drinks, music, and pleasures of the flesh. When they were distracted, Venviel could steal whatever she got her hands on. The owners didn’t deserve to keep their jewelry, gems, or gold.

She pulled the mask over her face, tightened the rapier’s scabbard to her waist, and took a deep breath. Below the roof she found herself on, across the street, dancers in see-through green garbs swayed their hips in front of the gates to a mansion. They greeted elven couples dressed in fine silks and embroidered robes.

Venviel had seen the dance performed thousands of times. The temple claimed the lustful movements, hugs, and intertwined limbs all signified the true meaning of love. The goddess’ message to the people. At festivals, and celebrations, the same dancers performed in public, but then they wore clothes. They covered themselves up.

She would sound like a prude if she told anyone what she thought about the dancers, so she never did. Besides, they weren’t wealthy themselves. She doubted the dancers enjoyed being groped or kissed by Keerla’s chosen. They likely only performed at these parties to avoid worse punishment.

Venviel balanced along the edge of the rooftop, leapt across to another house, and attempted to sneak around towards the back of the mansion. Thalia and Corym’s emporium had employed more guards than the temple ever did. Clearly, the high priestess viewed herself as untouchable, or she would have changed their routines by now. The temple would have sent someone after her.

Admittedly, they had sent Hope, but Hope didn’t count. Or at least Venviel didn’t want to count Hope as her enemy. She should. She had every right in the world to hate the inquisitor, yet after the night they’d spent wrapped in each other’s arms, she found it difficult. The inquisitor snored when she slept, but it wasn’t bad enough that she had to die for it.

At the back of the mansion, Venviel found an empty, dark street without a single person. It seemed too good to be true, but she couldn’t let the moment go to waste. She slung herself over the edge of the rooftop, searched for footing on a window, or a crack in the wall, and expertly descended the three-story house. She’d gotten so used to rushing up and down the buildings of Lho Allanar that she could do it half-asleep.

The training she’d given herself as a child finally served a purpose. Corym would not have scolded her for sliding down railings, swinging by chandeliers, or climbing trees if he’d known her future. He would have thanked her.

Venviel did miss him, and her mother, and their bickering, but each day the pain faded a little. She would get revenge before she forgot them. Someone would die, suffer through torture, or have their heart broken. She might go with Hope’s suggestion in the end, because she figured her parents would have preferred it if she didn’t kill their former maid. They’d welcomed Hope into their home, after all.

Venviel paused next to a bush before crossing the street and listened for footsteps or sounds which might indicate someone had seen her. But she only heard upbeat music from inside the mansion, and voices from another building further east.

She ran across the street, scaled the wall that encircled the mansion, and dove onto the grass. The music grew louder, quicker, but she paid it no heed. It was only there to distract the wealthy. And they could shove their gold up their bottoms.

The smell of grilled meat and vegetables caught the attention of her nose though. Why did the temple give their best food to their worst followers? Why couldn’t they leave it unattended for her to steal?

She snuck up to the side of mansion, pressed herself against the wall, and grabbed the rope at her waist. She’d procured a grappling hook long ago, along with her mask, and it always came in handy. Every situation could be improved with a grappling hook. It made no difference what she needed to do.

“I believe it’ll rain, honey,” a man said, a little too close, near a window.

Venviel didn’t make out whatever answer he received. His companion’s words were muffled by the music. Thankfully, the man stayed inside and didn’t venture into the garden. She might have had to cut him down, if he had.

She spun the grappling hook in a circle, tossed it toward the roof, and realized she’d succeeded on the first try when it remained in place, despite how hard she tugged on the rope. She began her ascent.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. If it rained, she might have to stay off the rooftops on her way back. She hadn’t moved her hideout yet, but she would. She had to. Even if she decided to trust Hope, later down the line, she should keep her hideout a secret. The inquisitor may never betray her willingly, but she would not put it past the high priestess to torture one of her chosen for their personal secrets.

The faint sound of moaning emanated from the windows on the second floor, so she hurried onto the third. She saw no reason for her to investigate. The men enjoyed themselves, and the women did not need her to intervene at this place.

Over the last five years, she’d intervened on occasions when ruffians or sailors had ganged up on lone women. She’d had to injure some of those criminals with her rapier to get them to beat a retreat. The women hadn’t all appreciated her intervention, since they expected the men would return when she wasn’t around, but some had spread tales about Orchid Brave.

Venviel hadn’t picked the name of her alter ego. She’d started wearing the mask, and someone else had named her. Someone she’d not identified. Tonight, Orchid Brave would redistribute more of the temple’s excess to worthier causes.

A Cordial Invitation

“Thank you for making an appearance, inquisitor,” Vaeri, the priestess who’d invited her out of the blue, said, hooked their arms together, and lead her past the dancers performing the rite of intimacy at the gates. They touched Hope’s lavender skin, grabbed her coat, and whispered ancient elven phrases of encouragement.

“It’s my pleasure,” Hope said, though she didn’t know what to make of Vaeri or the sudden invitation to the temple’s nightly congregation.

“Inquisitor!” Vaeri feigned laughter, leaned on her, and battered her long eyelashes. “I’m sure it will be your pleasure before the night is over. Certainly. I can arrange that.”

“Are you…” Hope dismissed the question she’d almost asked, and smiled politely instead. No, the priestess was not flirting with her. Why would she be? And if she was, why tonight of all nights?

“Am I what?” Vaeri asked with a sultry tone, stopped in the middle of the paved path leading up to the mansion, and stared at Hope. A quartet played one of the temple’s happier melodies inside. Vaeri was attractive, buxom even in plain robes, and her unprovoked friendliness added undeniable tension between them. A certain edge hid in her grey eyes.

“Are you leading the night’s activities?”

“For you? I could be.” Vaeri winked and guided Hope inside the mansion.

She’d not joined any of the temple’s recent congregations, and they’d changed from what she remembered. The sights, sounds, and smells that assailed her when she entered the mansion only gave her two options. Either she fled into the night and pretended like she’d not seen what she’d seen, or she partook in the festivities and engaged in hedonism.

A plethora of various elven dishes prepared from salmon, veal, sheep, and chicken lay on plates along the walls while men and women dressed in skimpy garments clung to each other. If any of them were married, they didn’t show it. Everyone seemed to enjoy all members of their current company a little too much. The quartet had to play in another room, due to the sheer amount of guests, so she couldn’t see them, but they sounded amazing.

“Are you overwhelmed, inquisitor?” Vaeri whispered in her ear. “The main hall is often the nosiest, the sweatiest, during these gatherings. Unless, of course, you find a private room to share with friends. I’m sure you’d get sweatier then.”

“I…” Hope swallowed the lump in her throat. The main hall did seem excessively hot, difficult to breathe in.

“Let me see you upstairs.” Vaeri took Hope by the hand and dragged her through the crowd towards an elegant staircase. “It’s the least I can do.”

Hope had experienced plenty of unexpected turns in her life, but few of them compared to how the male and female elves in the crowd reacted to her. A couple of them shied away, like usual, but many more grinned, caressed her horns, her tails, and whispered unintelligible, risqué offers. They suddenly viewed her as desirable.

She wanted to escape them, escape their fingers and hands, and especially their insincerity. Thankfully, Vaeri brought her out of the crowd, up to the second floor, and into a long corridor with a carpeted floor. Unfortunately, Vaeri did not leave, so she could join in the party on her own. The priestess continued dragging her along.

Hope suspected she wouldn’t enjoy whatever happened next, no matter how hard she tried. She’d fed soup to the starving less than a day ago. The dishes downstairs could have fed dozens of those poor elves for weeks.

Vaeri opened one of the doors in the corridor, stuck her head inside to check whether the room was empty, and quickly shut it again. She faced Hope and sighed. “The rooms are occupied, even though I tried to save one for personal use.”

“I’m sorry,” Hope said, mostly out of habit. “What do they use the rooms for?”

She shouldn’t have asked. She realized that the moment Vaeri laughed.

“Oh, you really are hopeless Hope, aren’t you?” Vaeri wrapped her arms behind Hope’s neck. “Everyone says you’re slow, and daft, but I can’t deny I find you charming. Exotic. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to screw you, inquisitor.”

“Wha—“

Vaeri cut her sentence short by stealing a kiss. Her lips tasted nowhere near as sweet or as energizing as Venviel’s. They tasted of smoke, sauce, and chicken. Not only that, but Hope felt like she cheated by kissing the priestess.

“How was that?” Vaeri licked her lips. “Your first kiss, inquisitor?”

“No,” Hope said, and oddly, Vaeri looked disappointed. “I’m sorry. Is there a place where I could catch my breath? Somewhere secluded? A library?”

“You don’t want to partake in the festivities?” Vaeri pouted.

“I do, I do, but I’m very unused to this excitement, so if you’d give me a moment, we can spend time together afterwards.” Hope had to escape Vaeri too. Why had she even accepted her invitation? They’d barely talked during their training as disciples. She didn’t have to be nice or polite to the priestess.

“There’s a library on the third floor.” Vaeri removed her arms from her neck, pointed towards the staircase, and smiled. “Don’t take too long, inquisitor, or I’ll hunt you down.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” Hope left Vaeri in the corridor and headed up to the third floor. She could hear people chatting somewhere, beyond closed doors, but at least they weren’t fornicating.

Hope knew the goddess of love approved of everything which transpired during these congregations, yet she didn’t know if she did herself. How long did the temple plan to pretend Lho Allanar embodied perfection, even though thousands starved?

She found the library without having to ask for directions. When she stepped inside the hall filled with bookcases, lit by the rising moon, she swore she heard someone moving in the shadows by an open window. Why hadn’t they lit a candle?

“Is anyone there?” Hope called out. “I didn’t intend to interrupt your enjoyment of the evening.”

She received no answer. Though she heard someone land behind her, as the floor creaked, and felt the tip of a blade pointed into her lower back. To show that she posed no threat to anyone, she raised her hands above her head. Her mace hung at her waist, but she would not reach for it. She didn’t plan to fight Vaeri’s esteemed guests.

“I’m an inquisitor. Not an enemy.”

“If you’re an inquisitor, you’re my enemy.”

Hope glanced behind her and caught a glimpse of Orchid Brave’s mask in the moonlight. She turned to face Venviel, but the elf poked the tip of her rapier into her skin and drew blood.

“It’s me! Hope!”

“I know.”

“Then why stick me, Ven—”

“Call me Orchid. The walls might have ears,” Venviel said.

“Why are you treating me like this, Orchid?” Hope asked. Sweat still clung to her form since the unpleasantness downstairs, it felt clammier with her life on the line. What if Venviel had chosen this splendid opportunity to enact revenge?

“How else should I treat an inquisitor? Tell me.”

“You could…” Hope became acutely aware of how they were alone in the empty library of a home dedicated to love for a night. Other members of the temple engaged in activities dedicated to the goddess. A luxurious divan, with several embroidered pillows, stood under the windows in front of them. The moon bathed her coat in its romantic light, but she would like to see Venviel covered in it too.

“I could?” Venviel held the rapier at her back, but took a step closer and rested her hand on Hope’s stomach like she planned to lead her into dance. “Tell me, inquisitor. What could I do to you?”

“Nothing,” Hope said. “I don’t want Orchid. I want my friend.”

“We’re friends?”

“Lovers?”

“Aren’t you bold, inquisitor.” Venviel slid her rapier into its scabbard, forced Hope to move backward with the hand on her stomach, and blew air against her neck. Hope smelled grass.

“It’s my duty.”

“To be bold?”

“Like you’re brave,” Hope said, reached behind her, and grabbed the top of Venviel’s mask. “You could blend in with the locals, Orchid, if you lost the mask. If someone found us, you wouldn’t arouse suspicion.”

“Do I arouse your suspicion?” Venviel kissed her on the back of the head.

“You know you have, for years, but I assumed no one could feel for a monster, so I chose not to act. I was very shy.”

“But you’re not anymore?”

“Not with you. I know you.”

The music below reverberated through the floorboards as the band picked up their tempo.

“Why do I find you in this den, then?”

“I don’t know.” Hope twisted her body, spun around in Venviel’s embrace, and turned their closeness into a hug. “I’ve not been invited before, and now I find you in one of my favourite places. A library. I’d like to think the goddess brought us together.”

“I wouldn’t.” Venviel removed her mask from her face, her long, sweaty bangs fell in front of her eyes. “But I will take you up on your offer.”

Hope slid the trembling tips of her twin tails up between Venviel’s legs. “My offer?”

“To blend in with you for a night.” Venviel grabbed her chin, kissed Hope with desperate lips, and reminded her of why Vaeri couldn’t compare. “To break your heart.”

Entangled

In the midst of fierce, endless groping, they fell on the divan. Venviel should have slit Hope’s throat when she had the chance, because seeing the inquisitor sprawled out beneath her in the moonlight filled her soul with what the goddess might have dubbed true love. Furore made no difference between love and lust.

Every word she’d previously used to describe Hope’s beauty paled in comparison to experiencing her with her tongue. She tasted, touched, and breathed in the inquisitor’s vanilla perfume. She’d not undressed yet, and already, she’d lost her mind to Hope’s dreamy eyes.

Venviel threw her mask under a bookcase, tore Hope’s coat off, and cut the rest of her clothes open like a criminal afraid to be caught in the act. She’d snuck through the mansion in search of jewelry, gold, valuables, but those could wait for another night. She’d found what she wanted to appropriate from the temple.

Once again she felt like a hunter, a thief, in her meeting with Hope, but this time she did go for the kill. She didn’t watch Hope sit in an armchair and read. She mounted her, ran her hands along exquisite curves, and smiled when Hope reciprocated the gesture by biting her lips, her skin, freeing her of her clothes, and scratching her back with nails that left marks. The twin tails teased Venviel by circling patterns on her inner thighs.

“I do believe your chest is larger than mine, Miss Amicier.” Hope smiled like only she could and ran her nails across Venviel’s breasts. “The goddess will be pleased with this offering.”

“Don’t call me that.” Venviel quivered in the wake of Hope’s treatment. “Not you, not again. You’re my equal. My love. This offering is for you, Hope. Not some asshole in the clouds.”

“A very generous offering…” Hope blinked rapidly to stop her tears from showing.

“What’s the matter?” Venviel kicked three pillows out of the divan, lay next to Hope, and brushed her nose against Hope’s cheeks to soothe her. “Should I apologize?”

“No. I…” Hope intertwined their legs, slid her tails further up Venviel’s thighs. The inquisitor teased her most sensitive spot by flicking the tips of her tails across it. “Am I your love?”

“Sure.”

“Not your lover?”

“Is there a difference?”

“According to the goddess...” Hope trailed off, allowed her tears to flow, and giggled. “You’re my love too.”

“I’ll break your heart, remember?”

“I’m ready.” Hope dug her fingers into Venviel’s hips, deep enough to repay her for the small cut in her lower back. “Are you?”

“Of cour—“

Venviel’s words died on her tongue, replaced by the loudest moan she’d heard from anyone, when Hope slid her twin tails inside. She slapped her hand over her mouth lest her scream alert everyone in the mansion to the ecstasy she discovered.

If Hope’s eyes encouraged Venviel to dream, her tails revealed a reality unknown to elves. She became an explorer, gave in, begged, begged with her hips, and rode Hope with a singular destination in mind.

Soon, she quaked, shook, and attained bliss at a peak.

Her previous lovers had been nice, pleasant, but no one had personified danger like Hope. If Venviel didn’t find someone who could bring her as swiftly to climax, she would never dare take revenge on the inquisitor. She’d become a docile pet.

To undo Hope’s unfair advantages, Venviel slid the wet tails out, pinned the inquisitor to the divan, and refused to accept further pleasure. She had a chance to bring this gorgeous creature, with its lavender skin bathed in the moon’s light, the same bliss she’d experienced. Venviel shouldn’t squander it. She had to drive Hope mad in return for the gift she’d been given.

She sucked on her neck, trailed kisses over her clavicles, and squeezed precious flesh to encourage Hope to sing. In the wake of her ministrations, Hope writhed, moaned, giggled, and requested more, more by wrapping her fingers in Venviel’s messy hair. She felt herself pulled into the inquisitor’s body by eager, powerful hands, and licked a path down a toned stomach. She broke new ground in the hunt for her lover’s highest highs.

With a golden tongue, and silver fingers, she played the inquisitor like an instrument till Hope devolved into a quivering, sweaty heap among pillows. The odd shiver surged through the woman, but she barely seemed conscious as her eyelids fluttered.

“Divine…”

“Very mortal,” Venviel said and kissed Hope’s gem. She may not have twin tails, but she had experience, talent. “And just the beginning of our night of worship.”

Hope whimpered and brought Venviel further inside by pushing her head down.

My Love

“Thalia and Corym asked me to befriend you,” Hope said, unsure if Venviel had fallen asleep on her arm or simply cherished their intimacy. “Do you think they’d be satisfied with this outcome, or…”

She hadn’t lain naked, sweaty, and spent next to anyone, ever. She’d shared Venviel’s bed, once, but this afterglow they soaked in while dawn neared couldn’t be more different. If she had to pick between the two, she preferred the current heap of their bodies. She could see Venviel’s entire figure on display next to her own. Most of the pillows had fallen out of the divan during their intense hours of lovemaking.

The priestesses had promised all devout followers that they would find their true loves, in this life or the next, but she’d assumed they’d talked about elves in those sermons. Not monsters or outcasts. Probably not the poor either.

Yet she’d still clung to a faith she’d not fully believed in. She’d been forced to content herself with having a roof over her head, food on her plate, and books to read. It would be difficult to be satisfied with so little again. Two nights with Venviel, Orchid Brave, was all it took to shake her foundation to its core.

“They really did that?” Venviel yawned and readjusted her position to rest her head on Hope’s chest. “Asked you to befriend me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going above and beyond then.” Venviel smirked. “I doubt they would approve though. You, sleeping with their daughter, when they only wanted you to befriend her. Poor girl.”

“You asked for more, oh so much more. Begged, even.” Hope giggled. “My tails are drenched in you.”

“Don’t tell anyone else what they can be used for.” Venviel reached for her twin tails, patted them, and dried them on the divan. “I don’t want you becoming famous for your hidden skill.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re my love.”

Venviel didn’t seem to think much of the expression she used, but she may as well have told Hope she loved her. The goddess made a distinction between physical affection and emotions. Anyone could technically love anyone’s body, but only a rare few, only a true love, could love someone’s soul. Everyone else ought to be referred to as lovers.

Maybe she had been placed in Venviel’s home years ago for a purpose. Maybe she’d simply stumbled on her path to true love, because of Keerla’s interference, but come closer and closer again since she’d found Venviel alive.

She didn’t care about the mission she’d been assigned. Not now, not if she could have Venviel. Orchid Brave could burn the temple down, if she wished, and Hope would merely watch it crumble like the vigilante’s partner in crime.

The door to the library creaked as someone opened it. Vaeri peeked inside, waved, and scowled at the sight of Venviel. Hope feared the priestess had warned the guards, or worse, another inquisitor, maybe even Faraine, but no one else could be heard in the corridor outside.

“Breakfast is served, inquisitor,” Vaeri said and turned to leave but paused with her hand on the handle. “I… I apologize if I was too forward, too blunt, yesterday. I’m glad you found someone to celebrate with.”

“It’s no…” Hope started, but Vaeri didn’t wait for an answer. The priestess slammed the door shut, left them alone once again.

“Especially don’t tell her about the tails,” Venviel said and planted a kiss on Hope’s bare breast. “I’d hate to compete with a priestess. I hear they’re trained in the art of seduction.”

“Keerla must have failed that class.” Hope scoffed. “Vaeri flirted with me last night, before I met you, but I don’t think anything would have come of it. I…”

Venviel perked up and suddenly seemed a lot more awake. “You didn’t tell Vaeri about the tails, did you?”

“I didn’t know they would have that effect at the time.” Hope tried to shrug, but it wasn’t easy to appear nonchalant with her arm crushed by a naked elf. “But you know me, I’m sure I would have bragged for hours if I’d known.”

“Heh.” Venviel relaxed. “You jest, but if you’d known, you might have been someone else entirely. I’ve noticed how you’ve grown in the last five years.”

“Grown?”

“Grown.” Venviel squeezed her hip.

“I suppose I’m not as starved as I once was, so I’ve put on weight.”

“Oh, no, Hope. Don’t start. Don’t develop another complex.” Venviel squeezed her harder, with both hands, and pulled her into a tired morning hug. “You’re no monster, you’re not fat. There’s a girl no one sees, past your exterior, who’s exactly like the rest of us in both good and bad. Moreover, you’re mine.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling appeared in her stomach. For the first time, she belonged.

Progeny

Venviel and Hope parted ways, eventually. Not because she wanted to let the inquisitor out of her sight, but because they couldn’t be seen together. If someone recognized Venviel, they would start asking questions they shouldn’t. Everyone must have assumed she’d died with her mother and father. She didn’t want to change that belief. She had, in fact, died and become Orchid Brave.

Still, she couldn’t think straight for hours after she’d left Hope, even though she had to remain on course to plan her revenge. If not for herself, or her parents, then at least for everyone else who suffered similar fates. She shouldn’t give up on a dream of a better Lho Allanar. A Lho Allanar which wasn’t ruled by a frivolous goddess who neglected her own worshippers.

Venviel may not have made off with a fortune after sneaking into the location of the nightly congregation, but she’d pocketed a couple of necklaces, nine rings, a silver candlestick, and a collection of ancient coins. The items would fetch a good price if she found the right buyer. If she didn’t, she’d have to pawn them to whoever could pay. Again.

She leapt through the evening air, on her way across the rooftops of Lho Allanar, and reminisced. Hope inspired her to believe she could start a new life. Not as a vigilante or a hero with a hidden identity, but as a member of society. For the first time since the horrible fire, for a single night, she’d behaved like everyone else. She didn’t think they should behave like that, not often, but she’d become normal.

After another leap, and a rough landing, Venviel noticed she’d arrived at the plaza where her family’s emporium had once provided many citizens with their supplies. Street vendors hawked their wares along rows of stalls and the large fountain in the middle, but the emporium stood somewhat isolated. People avoided it like they thought they’d attract the plague by going near the building.

Unlike the stalls, the emporium had sturdy wooden walls which inspired confidence. Thalia and Corym’s customers had known they could trust everything they bought from them, because they’d assuaged their worries before they’d even entered their business.

Venviel didn’t like to see the new cracks or the writing on the walls, even if she couldn’t make out what the scribbles said. If she rejoined society, the temple might recognize her right to inherit the emporium. She’d love to see it rebuilt and brimming with goods from far and wide.

“Your parents failed you, didn’t they?” Furore materialized behind her, on the rooftop, out of view of those below on the plaza.

“No…” Venviel glanced at the goddess. “They didn’t. You failed them.”

Furore shrugged, played with her jagged glass dagger, threw it into the air, and caught it again when it fell. “She was my failed experiment.”

“The high priestess?”

“Hope.” Furore summoned a simple chair, sat, and crossed her legs. Her silk dress shifted in a breeze from the ocean. “Hope was my failed experiment. Long ago, now, I was more ambitious back then. I had less enemies, less obstacles. I—“

“Still don’t care about you,” Venviel said to stop Furore from babbling on like she always did. The goddess couldn’t take a hint or quit talking.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny how she found Furore’s connection to Hope intriguing. She tried, stared at her boots, brushed dirt off her shirt, but Furore clearly knew what was on her mind, or the goddess wouldn’t have stared at her with such a repugnant smirk.

“Although…?” Furore raised an eyebrow.

Venviel sat on the edge of the roof, turned her back against the emporium. Best not to look at it longer than she had to. She’d avoided the area for a reason. “Although, if you know Hope, I have questions. She’s never told me anything about herself, her past, or family. And I… I’d like to know her. I think she’s…”

“Special?” Furore frowned and extended her arms along her sides. “If you think she’s special, you shouldn’t ask me, should you? You ought to ask Hope. Only she can give you the story of her life. At least from her perspective.”

“True...” Venviel nodded hesitantly before she recalled what Furore had said. “But how is she your failed experiment? You’re not related?”

“No. We’re not.” Furore sighed, and weirdly, she seemed regretful. The goddess hadn’t struck Venviel as capable of such a range of emotion before, yet on the rooftop this evening, her expression hinted at how she carried the sky on her shoulders. And if they weren’t careful, it would crash down on them, destroy Lho Allanar.

“But?”

“Perhaps she’s not as worthless of a pursuit as I’d presumed,” Furore said. “It’s been decades since I acknowledged my mistake, but…”

“Get to the point.”

“Pray tell, Venviel, would you have a child with Hope?”

The question took her by surprise, shocked her to a degree, because of the impossibility. She opened her mouth to give the quick, obvious reply, but something caused her to hesitate. Hope caused her to hesitate. The memories they’d made. What if Hope wanted to have children one day? What if she found a man and replaced Venviel?

“How…?” She asked.

“Haven’t you heard tales about other gods getting this and that creature pregnant with each other? Everything from inanimate objects to spirits and fae. There’s some serious mixing happening in the world.“

“No, I have not heard stories about other gods.” Venviel gritted her teeth. “You’ve made everything in Lho Allanar about yourself.”

“Not entirely, I did include Fate on a corner, but fair point. It’s no great mystery, in the end. I’m a goddess. I could make it happen with my awesome power.”

Venviel hadn’t seen a single miracle performed by Furore, so she didn’t put much faith in her supposed power. However, if her involvement with Hope became more serious, and if she decided to forego revenge, maybe she would want a child one day. The future remained uncertain.

“Assuming you’d be interested, hypothetically, Hope could continue down my planned path for her. My experiment could result in a substantial change in the world, and in this city which we so despise, right? Right?” Furore chuckled.

Venviel wished to punch her. “Why do you want her to a have child? And why should I help you? I don’t care about your problems. Hope is the one that’s special to me, not you.”

“You shouldn’t help me then,” Furore said, turned transparent, and began to fade. “You should help Hope. Even if you fall in love, shower her with the affection she deserves, she’ll always be an outcast in a world devoid of people like her.”

Furore left Venviel to think. She listened to the plaza and the constant haggling between different merchants and their customers. The wind carried the smell of fresh bread across the rooftop.

Even if Venviel had become an outcast, a threat to the temple, she was still an elf. She could blend in. But there was only one woman like Hope. Only one in the entire world. She’d not considered the implications that might have for someone like the inquisitor. Hope would live and die as an anomaly, unless someone sacrificed for her sake.

Venviel could be the woman that saved Lho Allanar’s greatest pariah. She didn’t hate the idea. She could see herself by Hope’s side, through thick and thin, for centuries to come. Ever since they’d danced around each other as master and servant, Venviel hadn’t stood a chance. She’d been charmed.

Alone

Hope awaited another encounter with Venviel, while she gathered evidence about Orchid Brave. Since she already knew the truth, however, she didn’t put much effort into her search. She asked questions here and there, pursued leads, and questioned women and men which swore they’d met the masked elf.

If what some of them said about Orchid Brave was true, it painted a picture of a sordid past. Hope didn’t want to acknowledge the inkling that she might be no more than another night of sex to Venviel. Yet with each day that passed in solitude, her doubts grew. What if Venviel told every woman the same things she’d told Hope? What if she only cared until she got a taste? What if she’d lied when she’d called her mesmerizing?

Even though she didn’t hear from Venviel for a week, Hope disregarded her worries before they could evolve into hate. She’d given Venviel permission to break her heart. She’d only expected the elf to do it in person, through her actions, not through rumours and hearsay. If Venviel had suspected Hope would discover the truth about Orchid Brave, maybe she’d realized she didn’t have to do more than seduce her.

After all, Hope had no one to rely on. No one who loved her. No emotional support. Without the temple, she stood alone against a torrent of indifference aimed her way by Lho Allanar.

If Venviel never showed her face again, after practically confessing true love, Hope’s heart would die a slow death. She’d regret how easily she’d been fooled, but she could never blame Venviel for using such a devious tactic. She would make up excuses for the love she’d lost, convince herself the elf had been killed, but she wouldn’t have closure.

Nine days crawled past. On the tenth day, the owner of the tavern she stayed in reminded Hope of Lho Allanar’s yearly celebration of adoration. Since, somehow, she’d forgotten the festival.

Keerla certainly hadn’t forgotten it though. Hope thought she’d kept a low profile, lived out of view of the high priestess, but when she returned to her rented room one night, she found Keerla waiting.

The high priestess stood by her window and stared out into the street. Two disciples sat on Hope’s bed, whispered to each other, and observed her with keen interest. They didn’t leave her room before Keerla dismissed them with a stern nod.

“It seems you’re living large on the temple’s expense, Inquisitor.” Keerla said, as the disciples shut the door to the room, and crossed her arms.

When Keerla claimed she lived large, she exaggerated. Hope did not spend more than a couple of gold coins a week on rent. The high priestess could probably convince the owner of the tavern to lower her rent even further, if she wished. He couldn’t disagree without consequences.

Hope lit a candle on the small table in the corner. She would have offered Keerla a seat by the table, so they could talk, but she only had one chair. Someone would have to stand.

“Have you discovered who is behind Orchid Brave?”

“I have not,” Hope said and prayed the high priestess didn’t realize she lied. It seemed impossible to tell what Keerla did or did not know already. Spies existed everywhere.

“Are you sure that’s the case?” Keerla strode over to the table, pulled the lone chair out, and sat. They were not in her office, but it didn’t stop the high priestess from dominating the room with her presence. The atmosphere thickened.

Hope walked over to the window and considered opening it, but when she noticed how it rained, she merely plopped down on the side of her bed. Her tails thumped the blanket which was supposed to keep her warm. “If I knew who they were, I would tell you, High Priestess.”

“I’m sure you would, Hope.” Keerla tapped a nail against the table. “I’ve dealt with defiance in our ranks, lately, but I’m sure you of all people would tell me everything. You wouldn’t have reason to hide anything from the temple, would you?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good to hear.” Keerla smiled in a disturbing manner, like she’d sniffed out the stench of Hope’s lies and found it exquisite to inhale. “I do so appreciate loyalty. And I imagine the goddess would share the sentiment. You can’t have true love without honesty, after all. It would be a very dangerous sham.”

“Of course.” Hope nodded, placed her hands in her lap. “Deceit leads to hatred.”

“It does.” Keerla dragged her nail along the table in a repetitive pattern. “You’re so correct inquisitor. I’m glad someone listened to my sermons when they served as a disciple.”

“Always.” Hope looked out the window. Raindrops fell on the glass, trickled downwards. She could see a dilapidated stone building with its boarded up front across the street. Whoever had once owned the home must have abandoned it. She’d heard about elves who packed up to sail the seas.

“A little bird told me you paid a visit to our congregation a week ago.” Keerla sighed. “I heard you spent the night with someone new, someone Vaeri didn’t recognize. Am I familiar with this elf?”

Hope had to answer in a way which didn’t give Venviel up to Keerla, and didn’t make the high priestess more suspicious. She suspected she’d failed when she took longer than a second to reply.

“It would be difficult for me to say, High Priestess. I’m not familiar with your social circles.”

“Assume I know everyone in the city.” Keerla watched her with a scowl. “Would I be familiar with the elf who seduced my newest inquisitor then?”

“You would.” Hope swallowed. She focused on the sound of the rain in an attempt to keep herself calm. “Of course you would.”

“But I’m not.” Keerla slammed her palm onto the table. “The description Vaeri provided did not bring anyone to mind. Not a soul. Yet, for some reason, this elf visits my temple’s congregation. If she’s a follower of the goddess, I should know her name and face. I know everyone. Don’t I?”

“Yes, High Priestess.” Hope nodded. Her mace gleamed in her belt, as the candle in the room flickered, but she couldn’t possibly attack Keerla. The idea was preposterous. Venviel would have to fend for herself, if it came down to a confrontation.

“Oh well.” Keerla shrugged. “I suppose they could have been a merchant, from somewhere distant. There are elves that spend years hiding among humans, aren’t there?”

“Indeed, High Priestess.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of your romantic encounter?”

“She didn’t tell me her name.” Hope couldn’t remember Venviel saying it, so she wasn’t technically lying to Keerla in this case.

“But you still slept with her?”

“I might have had a little to drink.”

Keerla fixated her with a ruthless, piercing gaze the instant Hope said she’d gotten drunk. In hindsight, she realized that was an obvious lie. She didn’t drink. She was too responsible to get drunk, or lose control of her senses, and it might be one of the reasons Keerla had promoted her to inquisitor. The high priestess may have expected Hope to always be sober and clearheaded.

“That would explain it, I suppose.” Keerla rose to her feet, straightened her robe, and turned towards the door to leave but paused. “Vaeri complained about someone who’d stolen precious heirlooms during the congregation. You wouldn’t have heard anything about that, would you, Inquisitor?”

“No.” Hope imagined Venviel may have visited the congregation to steal, but she’d not seen her take anything.

“I see.” Keerla grabbed the handle to the door. “Have a pleasant night, and sweet dreams, Inquisitor. I suspect Orchid Brave, whoever they are, will visit the festival tomorrow. If you haven’t uncovered evidence about their identity by the end of the celebrations, I’ll assign someone else to the task. Someone more veteran. Someone who won’t stay their blade. Faraine, perhaps?”

“Understood…” Hope didn’t watch Keerla leave. She stared out the window, listened to the rain fall, and knew she’d gotten caught in a trap.

Arrow

At a certain point, Venviel needed to act. She couldn’t put revenge off forever, and even if she’d helped a minority of Lho Allanar’s citizens, many cries went unanswered. The temple only got worse. Orchid Brave couldn’t be everywhere at once.

If she wished to inspire serious change, she had to show everyone that they didn’t have to bow, beg, and scrape to get by. Furore was a fraud. They could lead different lives. She’d sustained an existence of hatred, aimed at the temple, for the last five years. No agent of the goddess had discovered her, no innocent elf had gotten hurt by her actions. She’d made damn sure Orchid Brave had helped those who really needed it. Unlike the temple and Keerla, who only helped those who groveled and swore they believed in love.

The high priestess infuriated Venviel to a point where it became obvious she had to be her first target. Who else could have issued the order to burn her home to the ground? Who else fought to keep the status quo in place? No one, that’s who, because no one gained as much on it as Keerla did.

Venviel could continue to play by their rules, and listen to the goddess’ nonsense, or she could put an arrow through Keerla’s ugly face. It seemed the quickest solution. It would either work or prove ineffective. No matter what, it would definitely make Lho Allanar pay close attention to what she did and said next. Every eye in the city would be on her afterwards.

Keerla did take precautions against assassins though, so she would not be easy to kill. Her chosen disciples followed her everywhere, and the inquisitors were never far away. If the high priestess called for help, a dozen armed elves would swarm Venviel. Worst case scenario, she might have to prepare to fend them off.

She couldn’t attack Keerla at the temple either, because Furore may take it as a personal slight. If the goddess sided with the high priestess, Venviel would die. No question.

To avoid the worst outcomes, she settled for planning her attack for the days of adoration. Keerla would show herself among people during that week, and the crowds would provide Venviel with plenty of opportunity to disappear.

She kind of forgot Hope, while she planned her attack, and it wasn’t until the night before the celebrations would begin that she remembered the inquisitor. A part of her feared Hope would be among those in Keerla’s guard, and another regretted how she’d been so preoccupied with her own goals that she’d not paid the inquisitor a visit. She’d become so accustomed to sporadic romances that she’d not thought twice about their relationship.

Could she trust Hope to keep her secret? Could she expect her to side with Orchid Brave over the temple? Venviel worried that the answers to both questions, especially when they hadn’t met for a week, would be no. She shouldn’t rely on Hope. The inquisitor remained a servant of Keerla, even if Venviel had enjoyed the nights they’d shared. If she forgot where Hope’s loyalty lied, the woman might hurt her again.

After a night of disturbed sleep, where she tossed and turned more than she slumbered, dawn arrived. The cracks in the walls of her new hideout let the sun’s rays in, along with the cold, but at least they moved towards warmer seasons. She would have hated to spend weeks freezing underground during another winter.

If she got lucky when she killed Keerla, Lho Allanar would celebrate her as their hero and provide her with a nicer, cozier place to sleep. Sadly, it seemed likelier that the period after Keerla’s death would be worse for her. The temple would not vanish alongside its high priestess. The inquisitors, disciples, and priestesses would not up and leave. They’d be out for blood.

Nevertheless, she grabbed her bow, slid a knife into her boot, attached the rapier to her belt, and told herself that she would kill Keerla to save others. Not herself. Everything she did on this day, the first day of the yearly celebration of adoration, she did out of love for Lho Allanar’s inhabitants. And her parents. Especially her parents. Thalia and Corym hadn’t deserved death.

Venviel made her way out of the tunnels, emerged in a back alley by the docks, and joined the elves moving towards the temple. She might have to trail Keerla for a while, before she found the best opportunity to strike, but she could be patient. She’d practically done nothing more than practice patience over the last five years.

An hour later, she found herself at the foot of the steep hill of the temple. Trumpets and drums played around her secluded position, where she hid in the thick canopy of a tree, while dancers ran around citizens on the streets and encouraged them to let loose by shaking colourful shawls and ringing bells.

She’d like to see Hope, alive and well, among the citizens, but if they saw each other, the inquisitor may do something stupid. It might be for the best if she avoided Hope altogether, lest she implicate her in her crime.

Trumpets echoed from the top of the hill. A procession of priestesses and disciples in their finest robes appeared. They were too far away for Venviel to make out their faces, and she couldn’t see well past the leaves in front of her, but the high priestess must be among them.

The commotion on the streets had died down as soon as the procession had made its presence heard. Everyone waited expectantly for Keerla, yet no one had waited as long as her. Venviel ran her right hand along the length of her bow.

In The Clouds

“You’ve given your temple new rules?” Fate asked gleefully, stroked the glass ball in her lap, and flapped her deerlike ears.

Furore gazed down at Lho Allanar from their cloud. It could indeed be a day for great change, like Venviel had planned, like Fate may wish to watch for the sake of drama. Or it could be another victory for the status quo that had arisen. If she’d not become such a busybody after shouldering the responsibilities of the goddess of love, she may have ruled Lho Allanar herself like its desirable queen.

“Furore?”

“I said I’d think about it, so I’m thinking about it.”

“I gave you a gift.” Fate scrunched her nose up. “You should repay me, if I’m your dear.”

“I’ve given you free reign over my worshippers. You have the ear of my high priestess.” Furore dangled her legs over the side of their cloud, through the air, and kicked another cloud into bits of white. “If Venviel and Hope fails, I might give the temple new rules to abide by. If.”

“Then you won’t hate me for toying with them.” Fate leaned her shoulder against Furore’s. “You’d say it’s my right as their unseen second goddess.”

“Go ahead, Fate, if you must. Treat them like dolls.”

Luck

Hope borrowed a boat from the docks, on the first morning of the days of adoration, and rowed to Venviel’s old hideout to warn her about Keerla. Since she valued her own life, she didn’t have a choice. She had to tell the high priestess everything about Orchid Brave and pray she and Venviel could find a way through the aftermath together.

Of course, she did not find Venviel in the tunnels. Her former hideout lay abandoned, dusty, and inhabited by a large spider. Hope had no idea where she may have gone. She delved deeper into the tunnel network, but it soon became apparent that the tunnels had no end. If she wasn’t careful, she would get lost. She’d not accomplish anything if she wandered around in darkness without a trail to follow.

Hope retraced her steps, returned to the canal, and emerged into early sunlight with her boat. If it hadn’t been for a stroke of luck, she might have visited Keerla and given her whatever evidence she had, but instead she saw Venviel.

Up on the street, the elf appeared around the corner of a building. Hope called out to her, waved, but Venviel did not hear. Or she willfully chose to ignore her, but Hope couldn’t fathom why she would do that. Both of their lives hung in the balance. They needed to cooperate if they wanted to best Keerla.

Hope could feed the high priestess false information, no problem, but she would catch on sooner or later. If Venviel told Hope everything she’d done, every little detail from beginning to end, Hope could craft plausible lies. She could weave an intricate web. But she couldn’t trick the high priestess when she didn’t know what Keerla already knew, and she wouldn’t tell anyone. Keerla would deceive Hope till she’d given away far too much and found herself confronted by her fellow inquisitors.

One day, she’d be a respected woman with a bright future. The next, she would have vanished. Everyone would act like she’d never existed. Simply because Venviel hadn’t been there to help her lie, help her survive.

Hope rowed closer to land, scrambled up onto the street, and ditched the boat. She couldn’t see Venviel amidst the crowds, but she had a general idea of what direction the elf had headed, so she walked towards the temple with everyone else.

People moved aside when they noticed her coat, and a couple even shivered in disgust when they saw her face, but she didn’t allow it to get to her. Not today. Someone could love her, despite her exterior.

Admittedly, Venviel hadn’t contacted her for over a week, but she must have had a good reason. They shouldn’t be seen together anyway. It wasn’t safe. Vaeri had alerted Keerla to their meeting at the congregation. They ought to lay low until the attention died down. Sure, Venviel couldn’t possibly have learnt that Vaeri had gossiped to Keerla, but she must have avoided Hope for a similar reason. She was clever. She’d kept Orchid Brave secret for years. Yeah, Venviel must have assumed they’d been detected, and pretended to forget about Hope to protect her. Definitely.

Hope spotted Venviel a second time, near the foot of the hill of the temple, where the elf disappeared into a garden. No one seemed to care that she entered the garden, even though it belonged to a mansion which Venviel did not own. No one knew her as well as Hope did, but it struck her as peculiar because Venviel didn’t look like she belonged to the elite these days. She dressed like a common sailor. Everyone should have reacted to her trespassing.

A dancer in thin cerise clothing jumped in front of Hope, blocked her path, and flashed such an expertly seductive grin that she almost forgot her plan. She nodded to the dancer, murmured an apology, and followed Venviel.

Trumpets and drums echoed throughout Lho Allanar, but the garden she entered stayed relatively silent. Only butterflies and bees disturbed its serenity, and even then, they enhanced the natural grandeur of bushes, roses, tulips, and trees with their presence. If Venviel had remained in this particular garden, she must have hidden somewhere. Maybe she’d suspected someone had pursued her.

Hope didn’t want to think Venviel avoided her, but the evidence kept mounting against the elf. She searched the garden while the celebrations carried on outside, beyond the hedges, but it wasn’t until she investigated the dense crowns of the trees that she noticed someone. Venviel sat among the branches of an onyx heart tree, concealed by its leaves. Black apples, steeped in legend of eternal life, would grow on the tree when it blossomed in the summer.

“I urged you to destroy my heart, over my life,” Hope said to herself, stepped closer, and looked up at Venviel. “But you could’ve had the decency to do it in person.”

Venviel either didn’t hear her, which was understandable with the music and noisy crowds on the streets, or she was too distracted by whatever she was doing. Hope saw how she caressed her bow, stroked its length, when the trumpets heralded the arrival of the high priestess’ procession. Still, she doubted Venviel could fire an arrow from her current position, so she wasn’t immediately disturbed by her strange behaviour.

It wasn’t until Venviel dropped out of the tree and dove into the nearest bush when they came face to face, that she started to worry.

“Why are you avoiding me, Venviel?” Hope bent next to the bush, parted its large leaves, and looked at the elf lying in the dirt.

“I panicked,” Venviel said with a sheepish expression.

“Not now. Over the last week, you’ve avoided me.”

“I have not. I…” Venviel averted her gaze and groaned when she spotted a crack in her bow. “I forgot about you.”

“You forgot about me? After the night we shared?” Hope snorted. She’d developed a thick skin, through abuse and insults, yet she found herself slighted nonetheless. “How?”

“It’s not what it sounds like.” Venviel ruffled her bangs but made no attempt to get up or out of the bush. “I’d love to tell you what I’m doing, but you’re not…”

“I’m not what?”

“Eh...” Venviel scratched dirt off her cheek. “Not bad enough to be with me. You have… Our lives are very different, Hope. You have prior responsibilities.”

She had to contend for a bit with an incessant smile that wouldn’t leave her face. “Such misgivings you have, Miss Amicier,” Hope said, trailed her twin tails along Venviel’s leg, and considered lying down next to her. She didn’t care if anyone found them together, didn’t mind that the garden belonged to someone else. “I’m not bad enough? For you, I’ll become a genuine thief.”

“Told you to stop calling me Miss Amicier.” Venviel sat up, grabbed Hope by one of her horns, and pulled her into a needy kiss. “And you don’t have to become anything for me. You’re great. I mean that, but…”

“But what?”

“You know there’s something I must do. A personal matter. And I figured it best if you didn’t get involved, because I don’t want you to get hurt.” Venviel blew her bangs out of her face. “Hope, I adore you, but I need you to give me a day or two.”

“Anything for you, my love,” Hope said without hesitation, ran her fingers through Venviel’s hair, and smiled.

Yet when she remembered why she’d sought Venviel out in the first place, she shook her head and cleared her thoughts. She couldn’t surrender to the elf’s charm. “No, no. Wait. We need to talk. The high priestess will assign a veteran inquisitor to track you down if I don’t—“

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Venviel got up and inspected her bow with a frown. “I have plans for how to handle the high priestess.”

Hope realized why Venviel had brought a bow, and she didn’t like the idea. Keerla may be a mere mortal, but the goddess would punish any assassin who dared to slay her chosen. Especially if they committed the deed during the days of adoration.

“Venviel, listen.” She grabbed the end of the bow. “If you do something stupid this week, like a crime against the temple, you’ll forfeit your shot at true love. Didn’t your parents tell you stories about the goddess? Didn’t you listen to the priestesses?”

“I don’t give two shits about the temple!” Venviel jerked the bow away. “They’ll get what’s coming to them.”

“Venviel, please.” Hope placed her hand on the mace in her belt. She shouldn’t take a swing at Venviel, even though as an inquisitor, she had clear orders to kill every threat. “It’ll affect me too, if you lose your chance at true love.”

“Why?” Venviel rolled her eyes. “Do inquisitors get punished if they don’t kill innocents?”

“No, I…” Hope couldn’t make Venviel listen unless she appealed to reason, but this was a question of faith. “I believe you’re my true love.”

Venviel stared, gripped the bow harder in silence. Did she have to avenge her parents? They’d died. Why couldn’t she leave it at that and forgive the world for its mistakes? Hope wished nothing more than for them to cooperate, stay together, and grow closer through every potential fight with Keerla, yet she doubted Venviel was open to the suggestion. She was so set in her ways.

“You’re the only person in this world I long to be with,” Hope said. “Only you make me feel like another elf. And I know I’m not.”

Venviel eased the grip on her bow, briefly, before she steeled herself. “When I’m done with the temple, you’ll have a better life. They’re the ones spewing hatred, not us. They single people out, label them worthless. Burn them alive. I’ll do what I can for both our sakes, but don’t get involved, Hope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I won’t hesitate.”

Hope didn’t want to imagine what she meant and didn’t ask either. Venviel strode off with determined steps.

When she stopped in her tracks, halfway to the exit of the garden, Hope prayed she’d had a sudden change of heart. But while Venviel returned to steal another kiss, she left afterwards. Hope didn’t convince her to stay, and it angered her. Who was Venviel to renounce true love on Hope’s behalf?

Love Waits

Venviel didn’t believe anything the priestesses taught, yet Hope’s confession cut her to the bone. She’d not expected to be put on the spot by the inquisitor. She’d sort of feared Hope would have sold her out to Keerla already, but that would have been a physical blow, and she could handle those. How was she supposed to react to faith?

The procession passed the group of elves she hid among to the sound of trumpets, drums, and cheers. Keerla walked in the middle, dressed in an extravagant pink robe, flanked on every side by her disciples and inquisitors. Venviel suspected the disciples were guards in disguise, since some of them appeared too old to serve at the temple as students.

She kept her cracked bow lowered at her side. Those standing around her didn’t see that she held it, or they didn’t care. They were too busy cheering, screaming, and waving at the high priestess. Besides, she wasn’t the only one who walked the street armed. They might have assumed she was an inquisitor in disguise.

If Venviel hadn’t met Furore in person, she’d have thought Keerla was the real goddess to these people. She wondered what differences would have become apparent if the high priestess had ordered the procession to go through the poorest areas of Lho Allanar instead. Surely, they wouldn’t have cheered for her there. They would have thrown their trash.

The crowd fell in behind the procession. Venviel wasn’t given much choice in the matter. People pushed and shoved each other, so either she followed the flow and rhythm they set, or she lost her target. She didn’t know exactly where the high priestess was headed. If she had to make a prediction based on previous years, the procession would pass by every shrine in the wealthy quarter before stopping at a square somewhere.

More and more elves joined the crowd until it became a long snake lead by the head of the temple that slithered through the streets. Venviel could smell vanilla, somewhere, but couldn’t determine its source. The scent reminded her of Hope, distracted her from her task.

The snake which consisted of hundreds of elves arrived at its first stop. A shrine in the shape of a pillar crafted out of white stone, adorned with pearls, and decorated with piles of flowers from nearby gardens.

Keerla stepped up to the shrine. The inquisitors kept the crowd at bay by forming a line in front of the high priestess, but even then, they had to shove a couple of men backwards to stop them from getting too close. Three of the inquisitors placed their hands on their maces to remind people that they could injure them, if they didn’t follow the rules.

Venviel clutched her bow, Keerla turned to address the crowd. Someone grabbed her weapon and tried to pull it out of her grip. They’d discovered her. She had to think of a quick excuse.

“Give it to me, Venviel,” Hope whispered, pressed herself up against her back, and pulled at the bow again. “It’s broken. You cracked it when you dove into the bush. What will you do when you fail?”

“Get lost,” Venviel whispered back, but she couldn’t tell if Hope could hear. The crowd had grown quieter, while they listened to Keerla, but they hadn’t stopped talking altogether. The drums hadn’t stopped beating.

“I’m doing this for your sake.” Hope pushed her nose into her hair. If that had been all, Venviel would have forgiven her for the interruption. But the bow slackened in her grip, and when she glanced down, she could see that Hope had severed the string.

Why? Did she honestly think it would stop her from killing Keerla? Venviel still had her rapier, concealed under her clothes, and a dagger hidden in her boot. She’d known she couldn’t trust Hope, and now the traitor had shown her real nature. Again. She’d freaking betrayed her twice in one lifetime without suffering retaliation.

“Don’t hate me, Venviel.” Hope grabbed her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd, away from the high priestess. “I’m sorry, but don’t hate me.”

“I have every right to hate you.” Venviel faced Hope, freed her arm. She should have continued staring forwards. The moment she looked into Hope’s eyes, she lost the will to hurt others.

“You do.” Hope nodded and leaned into her to prevent anyone else from listening in on their conversation. “But we can work together. You don’t have to do it in public. You may not have to hurt anyone at all, if we cooperate. I need you alive.”

“Why?”

“You’d be difficult to cherish dead.” Hope smacked her butt. “And it’ll be harder to survive on my own.”

Venviel released the broken, ruined bow into Hope’s care. “Fine. You better have an excellent excuse though, or I’ll—“

“Break my heart?” Hope smiled pensively and guided her out of the crowd and onto another street. “My excuse is love. Something you made me believe in, despite how you’re the non-believer, and I’m the loyal servant.”

Venviel would have liked to be as carefree as Hope, but she couldn’t forget revenge, which she’d fantasized about for years, and couldn’t abandon her dream. She trusted the inquisitor less with each step they took. If someone discovered what Hope had just done, she’d be rewarded for protecting Keerla. She did her job when she separated Venviel from the mindless herd.

And yet, Venviel didn’t reach for her rapier when they found themselves alone. She’d warned Hope she wouldn’t hesitate, if she got between her and her target, yet all she did was hesitate, delay, ponder, wait. At least until Hope found a secluded spot for them in the shade of oaks, in another deserted garden. Then she tore the inquisitor’s coat off her warm body.

Bleakest of Souls

Mortals bored Fate. Long, long ago, during an era which may as well be called the beginning, she’d been as excited by their cute little interactions as Furore. However, by the time the goddess of love had ordered the reconstruction of Lho Allanar, she couldn’t have been less entertained by the dealings of humans and elves. She’d experienced everything they could do to each other firsthand. They’d done it to her numerous chosen.

Fate appreciated what Furore tried to do for her when she gave her free reign over Lho Allanar, but the city never amounted to more than another toy. It didn’t shake her out of her rut. She didn’t like its inhabitants, didn’t care if Lho Allanar survived or perished in a second volcanic eruption like the original had.

She found herself mildly amused by Keerla, since the high priestess embodied the antithesis of Furore’s teachings, yet despite that fact, no one dethroned her. Everyone kind of fell in line, worshipped Keerla as a false idol, and overlooked Furore’s teachings whenever the high priestess made an oopsie.

Not even the goddess of love batted an eyelid when innocents burned. Furore shrugged, viewed the events as insignificant, and tried to please the millions of lovers across the world instead. Who cared about those who sinned? If someone wanted to worship hatred over love, it was their choice, wasn’t it?

Nevertheless, Fate was intrigued by Furore’s plans for the mortal named Hope. The goddess of love had been dismissive at first, laughed off her questions, but recently, she’d managed to pull more and more answers from her lips.

Fate believed the change had come about because of Venviel’s influence. Before Venviel, Hope had been a failure. She’d been rejected by society as a whole. If it hadn’t been for Fate’s timely intervention, the demon mortal might have starved to death before she’d joined the temple. Fate had whispered in Keerla’s ear, told her to keep Hope around, and watch her closely. Now she had to choose which mortal to keep, which to discard.

She landed on the stone roof of a building with soft steps, held her gold arms and hands out in front of herself, and transformed them into the same colour as Venviel’s skin. She was a goddess. She could become anyone, and right now, she wanted to become a specific hero.

She summoned a sleek bow out of the ether and stepped up to the edge of the roof. Below, on a square, she could see hundreds of elves gathered around their false idol. Keerla stood surrounded by inquisitors in their funny coats and gestured for the elves to quiet down, so she could make herself heard.

Fate didn’t have to wait for silence. Fate didn’t ask. No, it made demands of mortals, and either they rose to the occasion, or they fell victim to the merciless march of the ages.

“High Priestess Keerla!” She shouted and made her voice echo through Lho Allanar like thunder. “I am Orchid Brave, Venviel Amicier, and if you want to survive this encounter, you’ll drop to your knees and plead for your life.”

Keerla didn’t follow Fate’s instructions. She sought cover behind the inquisitors while everyone else stood stunned and stared or fled.

Fate raised her bow, aimed it at the inquisitors the high priestess hid behind, and extended its string until she couldn’t pull it further back. Keerla might think she was safe behind five armed elves, but they were mortal. And Fate had chosen whom to remove from the world.

“I do this for Hope!” Fate declared, and an exuberant sensation flowed through her veins for the first time in eons. It gave her tingles. “I, Venviel Amicier, love Hope.”

The citizens on the streets looked puzzled by her statement, but they best remember it. She didn’t like to consider what extremes she may have to resort to, if they didn’t. Poor Hope and Venviel might not be recognized as the greatest threat to Lho Allanar’s status quo without her assistance.

Fate released the string of the bow, no arrow flew from her weapon. But a huge wooden stake, the size of a log, fell out of the sky and slammed into the spot where five inquisitors shielded one high priestess. They gave their lives for nothing.

Blood covered the square, but Fate didn’t know how to mourn mortals anymore. She’d killed countless. They bored her. She wished for Venviel’s and Hope’s sake that they’d make an effort to amuse her after this. Or she’d stake them to the temple’s roof next.

Wither

The thunder and the earthquake shook the ground, rattled the foundations of mansions, and threatened to tear the earth out from under them. If Venviel hadn’t held her tight, Hope would have panicked. Her twin tails thumped the grass, rapidly, but even if the goddess of love attacked the city, she’d done nothing to earn her ire.

“What was that?” Venviel asked.

“I don’t know, but I should probably check it out.” Hope didn’t want to go anywhere without Venviel, yet it might be safer. “Keerla warned me that she would replace me, give your name to someone more veteran, if I don’t provide her with evidence by the end of the festival.”

“Should we have this conversation now?” Venviel glanced around them. Thick branches had broken off a few of the oaks, and cracks had appeared in the façade of the mansion, but nothing had sustained permanent damage. It could be fixed.

“I think we should have had it earlier, actually. I have a plan.” Hope shut her eyes to the destruction, relaxed in Venviel’s embrace. “If you tell me everything you’ve done, over the last five years, I’ll come up with lies the high priestess won’t be able to disprove. I—“

“Hope, I didn’t track my actions. I’m not the temple. I didn’t sit around and wait for a goddess to give me the best dates. I did what I had to, whenever I could.”

“Anything you remember will have to do then,” Hope said, but if Keerla knew more than she had revealed so far, she might only dig a deeper grave for herself if she gave the high priestess inaccurate intel. “You remember what you did, right? The gist of it?”

“Obviously.” Venviel snorted. “I, um… Well, give me some time to think and remember.”

Guards rushed by on the street outside, headed towards the origin of the earthquake. If people had gotten injured, Hope ought to go help. It was her duty.

“Should we meet later tonight?” She asked, grabbed her coat, and slipped her arms into its sleeves. “Will that be enough time?”

“More than enough.” Venviel nodded. “I’ll wait for you by the docks, where I saved you from that broker.”

“If I’m a no-show, you’ll save me from the temple, won’t you?”

Venviel didn’t even feign a smile at her joke. “I’ll have to rescue you from yourself first.”

Hope wasn’t sure how to respond. She needed to be somewhere else though, so she simply kissed Venviel on the forehead, jumped into her boots, and hurried out into the street. The guards disappeared around the corner farther down the street.

She ran after them to catch up, but soon met resistance in the form of terrified citizens. The wealthy elves looked too lost and confused for their own good. They muttered to themselves and bumped into her, even though they’d always kept their distance before. Whatever had happened must be serious indeed.

She found her way to the source of the earthquake by going against the stream of people. Her concerns grew the closer she got to the worst of the destruction, but when she arrived at the square and saw who the victims were, a weight lifted from her heart. The goddess must have killed the inquisitors because they’d failed her, but at least they’d been members of the temple. They’d not been defenseless innocents.

Hope didn’t recognize Keerla, right away, since the bodies were crushed into a pile that was too small to consist of six people. When she did, she froze. It had to be a joke. If the goddess smote her own high priestess, who could really claim to be safe in Lho Allanar? Who would lead the temple going forward? What would happen to her?

She supposed Venviel, Orchid Brave, could breathe easy for a while, but she didn’t get a chance to consider her own future long before a priestess barked orders to arrest her to two nearby inquisitors. The priestess clearly thought she was involved in this madness, but why?

While the inquisitors drew their maces, and forced her to kneel on the ground, Hope found herself helpless and shocked. So stupid and naïve. She didn’t resist when they bound her arms and blocked out the sun with a blindfold. She sort of timidly acknowledged that she’d lost the game the goddess had liked to play with her since her birth.

Forgotten

“I’ll talk with Hope,” Vaeri said when the guards unlocked the door to whatever dark, secret cell they’d tossed her in. “Leave us.”

The priestess brought a lantern into her prison, placed it on the floor by the entrance, and shuddered as they shut the door behind her. She looked upset, disheartened, like she’d not gotten a wink of sleep because of the terrible tragedy which had befallen the temple.

“I don’t know anything,” Hope said, grabbed her listless tails, and scooted up against the wall. The lantern gave her her first glimpse of the cell in hours. Straw had been strewn across the floor, but other than that, it was barren. The cell had no bed, bench, or window.

“I’d like to believe you. Trust me, I would.” Vaeri slid a hand behind her back. She might have hidden a dagger in her robe to protect herself. “But they claim the assassin, Orchid Brave, mentioned you by name.”

“You sure she didn’t mean hope as in hope? Or is that such a foreign concept to you that you’re forced to assume I’m involved in crushing six people? Really, Vaeri? How would I even have done it? I’m a nobody. I don’t possess divine power.”

“True enough, Hope.” Vaeri offered a sympathetic smile. “But the temple isn’t stupid, and we have to pursue every lead. If anyone would have helped Venviel Amicier keep her identity secret, it would be her former maid, wouldn’t it? You shed many tears over that family, didn’t you?”

“How would you know?”

“I wouldn’t know much about you, at all, if Keerla hadn’t died. But she did keep extensive notes of everyone. You, especially. I’m not sure why yet.”

“Then why have you locked me in?”

“It wasn’t my decision, Hope. I’m on your side.” Vaeri sighed. “It’s difficult to defend someone who looks like you, during times when everyone is looking for a scapegoat, but I’m doing my best. I’d like to think of us as friends, even if you turned down my advances.”

“I…” Hope stroked her tails. What had happened to Venviel? Had she been captured too, or did she remain at large? Venviel couldn’t possibly have killed the high priestess. The earthquake had happened while they’d been together, and the elf didn’t possess divine power either. She doubted any mortal could have killed six people in the way Keerla and the inquisitors had been crushed. It must have been the goddess.

“Hope, how much are you willing to tell me about the elf you spent that night with?” Vaeri took a couple of steps across the straw on the floor, but stopped in the middle of the cell. “How well do you know Venviel? Do you believe she would save you?”

“Yes, she…” Hope trailed off. She didn’t know if Venviel would do anything of the sort. If the elf thought of her as a lost cause, she might devote herself to others instead. She’d not lacked lovers. And now that Hope found herself imprisoned at a secret location, Venviel might convince herself to stop thinking of her.

“How do you think we would find her?” Vaeri asked. “It seems unthinkable that she would have the power to call down logs out of the skies, but it’s not the first time the temple has heard of divine weapons. This Venviel, could she have consorted with other gods?”

“I don’t…” Hope shrugged. “I don’t know. She mentioned the goddess of love, a couple of times, as if she’d talked with her personally.”

“Blasphemy!” Vaeri exclaimed. “The goddess would not have sided with someone consumed by hatred, nor would she have sided against her own high priestess.”

“I didn’t claim she had.”

“Would you help me find Venviel Amicier, if only so we can provide the people with the answers they seek?” Vaeri knelt in front of Hope and laid a hand on her knee. The priestess’s concern seemed genuine.

“No, I can’t. She—“

“Hope, you’re going to be in here for a long time if you don’t help me. It might be years before you see the sun again, and by then, the temple will have found their culprit with or without your assistance.” Vaeri squeezed her knee hard. “Do you understand? I’ll help you in return. You shouldn’t have to rely on outsiders, blasphemers, for the love the goddess promises everyone.”

“I can’t help you, I don’t know where she is.”

Vaeri rose to her feet, wiped her hand on her robe, and grimaced. “I’ll see what I can do. I doubt the others will realize your usefulness, but if you’re lucky, they might use you as bait to draw her out. How do you feel about playing the part of the helpless victim?”

“If you know the temple is wrong, why are you doing this?” Hope asked. “I can’t be your victim if you’re good and upstanding, can I?”

“Hope, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Keerla kept notes about your lover too. It seems Venviel wasn’t quite as fond of you as you were of her.” Vaeri looked down at her with a frown. “Orchid Brave loved to spend nights with women far above her status. I fear she might have only thought of you as an exotic lay.”

“Exactly like you?”

Vaeri chuckled. “It’s what you are.”

Hope kicked her leg out at the priestess’ shin, but missed when Vaeri took a quick step backward.

“I’m your only friend,” Vaeri said, pulled a knife out of a hidden pocket, and held it at her side. “Don’t make me regret trying to show my love to someone like you. You can become more than you were born to be with me.”

“You can’t…” Hope’s heart sank in her chest when she realized that Vaeri was likely right. She would never become an elf. She’d always be an anomaly. A monster. And Venviel might sooner save others than her. “I’d like to be alone.”

“In this horrible cell? I can get you out of here, if you only give me something to go on.”

“Leave ,Vaeri.” Hope pulled her knees up to her chest, hugged her legs, and rested her chin on top of them. “I know what I am to you, and everyone. Unlike you, though, I can handle the darkness. I grew up in the shadows of Lho Allanar.”

“Suit yourself.” Vaeri knocked on the door for the guard to let her out, and left Hope alone with the lantern. It stayed lit for a long while.

She watched the lantern’s wick flicker, half-awake, right before it went out. Venviel would forget her, over the coming days, and find someone else if the temple didn’t put an end to her life. No one could love Hope, not when the goddess herself held a grudge against her, so she best get used to a solitary existence.

No Light, No Light

Time lost its meaning during the first day. Faced with constant darkness, Hope had nothing to count the hours with. No sun, no moon. If she hadn’t fallen asleep, sporadically, she might have been able to guess how many hours had passed based on the rhythm of a regular day. But she didn’t even have that.

Vaeri didn’t return. Venviel didn’t come to save her. At least not when Hope was awake. Both the priestess and the vigilante visited her, over and over, and urged her to pick a side in her dreams. She couldn’t recall what they’d told her afterwards. She only remembered how they’d made her feel, how they’d tortured her with their caring, soft voices, and how they reminded her that she’d failed.

When she refused to make choices, she amounted to no more than a single grain of sand. She’d been given considerable authority by Keerla, but she’d squandered it and would never reclaim it now.

The temple would forget her. Years into the future, they’d discover the skeleton of someone who’d starved to death in one of their cells. By then, Venviel would have escaped Lho Allanar.

She supposed she couldn’t blame the guards for forgetting her already, or neglecting to bring her food, or just leaving her life up to fate. Truly, she ought to blame herself for expecting a different outcome. She’d been born hungry, and when starvation returned in full force, she’d die to that awful, mind-numbing hunger.

She’d accomplished nothing in her time. She’d rebelled against none of the injustices she’d endured. Venviel might go down as a hero to the people, but Hope would forever remain insignificant. It was sort of fitting for someone like her to wither away in darkness, like a hidden little cave rose that no one ever laid eyes on before it decayed.

In dreams, or in reality, she couldn’t tell which when her waking hours flowed into her sleepless nights, she saw Venviel together with a dozen beautiful elves which all fawned over her because she’d saved them instead of Hope.

Why had she been naïve enough to think Venviel would pick her? She may have left scars on Venviel’s heart, when she’d betrayed her family through sheer idiocy, but it should only serve as further proof that she didn’t deserve the attention the elf had lavished her with. She should have given Venviel permission to slit her throat, kill her, to fulfill her need for revenge. A quick death would have beat starvation. It would have been a pleasant mercy to die by Venviel’s hand.

If she’d known that was all she would get out of their romance, she would have tempered her expectations. Pariahs couldn’t earn love. She’d not stopped being one when she’d become an inquisitor. Not in the eyes’ of the goddess. Not by the rules of any priestess. Maybe Keerla had been killed because she’d dared promote Hope to a position of privilege. It wouldn’t surprise her.

If the goddess resembled the elf statues, she must resent Hope and think of her like the monster everyone else saw. A monster born out of hate. Why would the goddess be different from the rest of Lho Allanar? She’d rebuilt the city in her image, hadn’t she?

Even though she lost track of time, and days must have gone by, the guards brought her food before she succumbed to starvation. She stuffed her face, with bread which tasted of mold, and focused on survival yet again. If she had nothing else than her life, she ought to value it till the moment someone cut it short. Be they elf or deity.

Hope had no clue how long she may live, but she didn’t want to consider how terrible the afterlife might be for her. She didn’t believe for a second that it would be better than the disappointing existence called life. Not if she would meet the goddess in person and face her relentless scorn.

Run

Venviel fled the second she stumbled upon three guards in front of the tunnel to her hideout. They drew their swords, shouted, and gave pursuit. She ducked into alley after alley in a futile attempt to shake her tail, leapt over barrels and crates, yet the guards always appeared. They didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath. If it hadn’t been for their clunky armours weighing them down, they would have caught her.

After a week, she’d grown tired to her bones. Ever since the earthquake, the tunnels no longer constituted a safe haven. She could only guess at who had blabbered about where she lived, but since no more than a couple of individuals knew about it, and one of them served as an inquisitor, it seemed a safe bet. Hope had sold her out.

Venviel should have resisted those mesmerizing eyes. If she’d ended Hope after she’d destroyed her bow, they could have been done with each other once and for all. Instead she’d let her run off like a love-struck fool, and paid the price every single day since then.

She stopped to catch her breath, in the shadows of another alley, next to the broad road leading up to the palace. The giant unfinished structures beckoned her closer. Horses pulled carts with marble, and planks, and trotted up towards the spires of the ancient beast alongside muscular builders. The reconstruction set before them may not be finished in her lifetime, if they didn’t receive divine assistance.

“Venviel Amicier!” A redheaded inquisitor shouted from the other end of the alley, bared her teeth in a grin, and drew her mace.

“What?” Venviel said. Her lungs would give out along with her legs, if she didn’t get a chance to rest soon. “Sorry to disappoint, but I didn’t kill your high priestess. Wish I had though!”

“Run, rabbit,” the inquisitor said, dragged her mace along the stone wall, and shattered the top of a crate by striking it into splinters. “Run.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice…” Venviel sighed and wondered if she should just ditch Orchid Brave’s mask at this point, since Hope had told everyone her true identity anyway.

She didn’t move until the redhead did. Then she ran across the street, ducked horses and angry men, and jumped up onto one of the carts on the road. She scaled the planks and the stones, waved at her pursuer, and threw herself on top of a ruined wall which encircled the palace. Once it may have served as a defensive measure, but now she used it as a quick means of escape.

She would always be outmatched by the insanity of the temple’s battle-ready servants, but none of them could match her in a competition of acrobatics. None.

At least that’s what she thought until she heard the inquisitor scale the wall behind her, laugh, and look up at her from under her red hair. This woman might actually kill her. Inquisitors should stay on the ground where they belonged.

Venviel freed her grappling hook from her belt, fled along the wall, skipped across the top of pillars, and searched for an elevated spot to swing the hook at.

“I’m not so bad once you get to know me, rabbit!”

If Hope had had the guts to face her in person again, Venviel would have loved to demonstrate how bad she could be once they crossed her. But no, she found herself pursued across the structures of the palace by a fanatic.

And unfortunately, she gained on her, despite how they shouldn’t be evenly matched. She’d always had the advantage in Lho Allanar, because she’d learnt how to move better than everyone. She couldn’t suddenly lose it.

“I hear you love the goddess’ faithful, so why don’t you stop and dance!” The inquisitor shouted so loud that Venviel almost tripped.

“You told me to run!” Venviel swung the grappling hook at one of the tallest pillars of the nearest scaffolding, and breathed out in relief when it got caught in the wood. She pulled herself up and out of reach of the agile inquisitor.

“Would you have given me a kiss if I’d told you to?” The inquisitor balanced precariously on top of a pillar, and searched for a way up or down, but she didn’t have any available to her. “Or do you only follow orders you like?”

“What’s your name?” Venviel wrapped the rope dangling below her around her leg to prevent the inquisitor from reaching it.

“Faraine! But you can call me death!”

“Faraine, your kind isn’t worth the air you breathe.” Venviel stopped climbing halfway up to the scaffolding to rest for a short while. Faraine didn’t seem to have a bow on her person, so she might be safe.

“Who do you think will have drawn their last breath when we’re through with each other?” Faraine pointed her mace at her. “Why don’t you come down here and discuss it?”

“Violence is not a discussion.”

“Is pointless revenge?”

Venviel hadn’t thought of her revenge as pointless before Keerla’s death, but it was hard to view it as anything else when her target died, and nothing changed. The temple still stood tall and strong on its hill. Venviel could see it from where she currently hung midair. She could see Lho Allanar’s grandeur from her elevated position too, but the city felt more like a lost cause than a dream worth clinging to.

“Rabbit?” Faraine began to carefully descend the pillar by hugging it tight and sliding downwards. “If I catch you, I’ll earn a fat reward. So if you surrender yourself into my care, I might feel very inclined to reward you in turn. You get me?”

“Your kind only lies.” Venviel forced herself up the rope. Exhaustion set in. If Faraine reached the ground before she reached the scaffolding, the chase would soon resume, and she needed a break. She had to hide somewhere the temple wouldn’t find her, and if she couldn’t hide under the palace, maybe she could do it inside.

For some inane reason, the few hours of shuteye she’d enjoyed over the last week had been offset by dreams of Hope. And they hadn’t been the pleasant kind of dreams either, where she strung the inquisitor up. No, they’d been fretful dreams in which she struggled to protect Hope from darkness and failed. Her mind toyed with her. Faraine, and everyone like her, were proof enough Hope had sold her out. She shouldn’t miss her.

Venviel pulled herself up onto the flat scaffolding, retrieved the grappling hook, and removed her mask. It didn’t serve a purpose now, Hope had made sure of that, so she tossed it into the wind. Orchid Brave soared across Lho Allanar, as a forsaken ideal, while Venviel went to seek sanctuary in the palace.

Unreal

“Come on, girls, don’t let Fate stomp all over you. She doesn’t have your best interests in mind. I, however, have a quota to fill, so I must think of your sad, pathetic hearts.”

When she heard the voice, Hope opened her eyes to everlasting darkness. The guards hadn’t replaced the lantern in her cell, and Vaeri hadn’t visited again. She’d resorted to counting the days by the number of meals they’d fed her. So far, she’d eaten thrice, so she prayed that was how many days had passed, though she had her doubts. The hunger lasted longer than she felt full.

“Venviel, Hope isn’t the traitor you like to paint her as. And Hope, Venviel doesn’t tell anyone she likes them unless it’s true.”

“Furore?” Venviel appeared in the middle of her cell. Or no, Hope wasn’t in the cell anymore unless someone had covered the walls in spider webs. It must be another nightmare.

“Yes, Venviel?”

“I can’t think of anyone less suited to be the goddess of love. You should hand over your mantle to the first elf you see next.” Venviel crossed her arms, looked at Hope, and blew her bangs out of her face as she’d so often done when they’d met in Lho Allanar. “She’s not…”

“What, Venviel?” Furore stepped through the spider webs and threw a glass dagger between her hands. “What isn’t she?”

Hope recognized her. They’d met once before, five years ago, or however long had passed since then. Venviel had claimed she was the goddess? No, no, that couldn’t be correct. Hope had never met the goddess in the flesh. This was a nightmare. The figments of her imagination were already turning on each other, and next they would turn on her.

“Trustworthy.” Venviel shrugged. “Hope isn’t someone I can trust. Not after everything she’s caused. If it wasn’t for her, I’d live a normal life. My parents would be alive.”

“She’s not responsible. Fate is,” Furore said. “And you don’t trust anyone, Venviel. You—“

“Yeah, well, I wonder why.” Venviel glanced at Hope but refused to look her in the eye. “I’m done with this. Don’t bother me again, Furore, or I’m coming after you. You certainly can be held responsible for everything terrible that’s ever happened to anyone in Lho Allanar.”

“Careful with whom you threaten, girlie.” Furore revealed her fangs. “I might side with my disobedient temple.”

Venviel glared at Furore, strode off into the spider webs, and disappeared.

“I guess it depends on you now, Hope.” Furore turned to her with a sad smile and scratched the dagger against her horn. “I owe you an apology, I suppose, but I was never good at that kind of stuff. I’m the smoking hot succubus everyone lusts after. Not someone apologizing right and left. Don’t do that. But hey, we haven’t even determined what you are yet. Maybe you can teach me.”

Hope remained slumped where she’d sat for days. The nightmare would come to an end, and Furore would leave. She wasn’t even real. Maybe she’d not been real the first time they’d met either. Maybe Hope had been imprisoned for years and years, but she hadn’t come to terms with it until recently.

“Hope…” Furore stared off into the distance, past the webs. “I named you that as a joke, but if you pull through this depression, you could become the hope of millions. Their first light.”

“No one needs me,” she murmured.

“You don’t fully grasp how wrong you are, but I would like you to live to finish my experiment. Then you’ll see.” Furore chuckled ruefully. “They’ll all see. But I’m afraid Venviel is kind of crucial in this. Sorry for making her so important. She’s a pain in the ass, isn’t she?”

“She hates me…” Hope choked up and blinked tears away. They came too easily, too quickly, for her. They always had. “I wish this nightmare would end.”

“It’s a tad more real than a nightmare, my child.” Furore quirked an eyebrow and smacked her tongue in surprise. “Hope, I mean. I don’t know why I said my child. You’re not mine.”

“Is it true what Venviel said? That you’re the goddess of love?”

“Indeed.”

Hope would have liked to ask questions, but the revelation was too surreal. She couldn’t come up with a question which felt worthwhile. She nodded, accepted it in the moment, even if she didn’t believe Furore. Anyone could lie.

“Are you prepared to give Venviel a second chance?”

“She can’t love me.”

“I’ll take that as no, not right now.”

The spider webs faded along with Furore. Hope opened her eyes to the darkness in her cell, but she may as well have kept them shut. She existed in a void.

Reach For The Sky

The forgotten, dusty attic stood out as the sole shelter in the tower, even though its furniture had decayed past the point of recognition. Some of the rubble may have been chairs once, or chests, or tables. It was impossible to discern. How anything had survived the passage of time astounded Venviel.

If she blockaded the hatch to the attic by sitting on it, her weight might hold the inquisitors at bay at least. It would trap her inside, of course. If anyone had seen her enter the tower, they would capture her easily.

She might die if she lingered in the attic too long, but in her exhausted state, she found it difficult to worry about that. Either she slept, for a couple of hours, or she fell asleep in front of the next inquisitor that tried to chase her. And then she died anyway. She’d run out of good options.

She should have stayed on the ground. The palace had not been easy to scale, even with her training. Why had no one repaired the stairs in the towers yet? What good did they do anyone in their broken, disused state? Couldn’t Furore wave her magic wand around and reconstruct the palace in the blink of an eye?

Venviel undid the rapier from her belt, placed it next to her, and lay down on top of the hatch. A black fuzzy spider stared down at her from the ceiling. She hoped it wasn’t poisonous or hostile. It seemed too small to pose a threat. She’d heard much larger spiders scurry around in the tunnels during the many years she’d slept under the palace, and they’d not bothered her unless she’d gotten too close to their webs.

She yawned, and tried to sleep, yet sat up with a start when the tower wailed in the wind like it was about to topple. For a second or two, she swore she could feel the entire structure sway from side to side. She wouldn’t put it past Furore to push it over, just because she’d decided to rest in it.

The tower settled down long enough for Venviel to calm herself. She lay on top of the hatch, once more. The wind whistled outside. If she hadn’t exhausted herself already, she would have left the palace and tried to find an unguarded entrance to the tunnels.

But she didn’t have a drop of energy left. Her well had run dry. She’d fight the temple all the way to her grave, but understood that it wasn’t far away now. Hopefully her mother and father would wait for her on the other side.

She slept in brief periods, tossed and turned, and glimpsed dreams through the veil of reality. Hope was there. The inquisitor seemed thinner than she remembered, desolate, despondent, but the wind tore her out of the dream before she could get a closer look. The tower wailed until she became used to its rhythm, then it lulled her into another fitful nap.

“You’re stupid,” someone whispered.

“Get lost.” Venviel yawned, curled up into a ball. The hatch hadn’t budged. Faraine hadn’t found her and entered the tower. It must have been the wind.

“Hope would have sided with you.”

Venviel checked if Furore had materialized to mock her again, but she couldn’t see anyone in the attic. Except for the spider in the ceiling which hadn’t moved.

“Furore?” She asked the empty space.

“Fate,” she said without revealing herself. “I upset Furore, took it too far.”

“Took what too far?” Venviel grabbed her rapier, even though she couldn’t put up a fight against this invisible foe, this other goddess.

“Your fate. Hope would have sided with you.”

“My fate? I don’t get it?” Venviel waited for an explanation that didn’t come. “Hope didn’t pick my side. She betrayed me the moment someone killed her precious leader.”

She still didn’t receive an explanation. Not that she needed one, she already knew the truth. Besides, if Hope would sooner have sided with her than the temple, it wouldn’t have been difficult for the inquisitor. She could have sought her out, made the offer, and…

Venviel remembered how Hope had done exactly that. And she’d brushed her off, given her no clear answer, and told her to meet her at the docks later. Venviel hadn’t had a chance to wait for Hope that day. The inquisitors had come for her. She’d assumed the worst, filled in the blanks with her own logic, but what if Hope had never betrayed her? What if the temple had used her again?

Hope hadn’t truly betrayed her family the first time around. A part of her realized that, even if she didn’t view the former maid as blameless. Hope could have done something. She could have warned her. Venviel would have forgiven her, quicker, if she’d just acted against the temple. The downtrodden needed to rise up, not side with their tormentors.

Venviel had never trusted Hope, not even when they’d first met years ago, but she’d wanted to get to know her. Numerous were the times when she’d spied on the cute maid in their library. Hope had done more reading by the window, in their old armchair, than she’d ever cleaned, yet Thalia or Corym had only played coy when Venviel had complained and pointed it out.

How early had her parents planned to push them together? She knew they’d meant for them to become friends, since Hope had told her so, but how would they have reacted if they’d fallen in love under their noses? Would they have arranged a marriage? They’d accepted Hope long before her.

What if Venviel had made an effort to get to know Hope from the start? Could she have convinced her to trust her? To talk with her about the temple and the high priestess? Would her parents still be alive and well?

She fought off drowsiness a little longer, dried her eyes, and wished she’d acted herself. If she’d been less suspicious, more welcoming, maybe she wouldn’t have spent five years underground. Maybe she wouldn’t have needed to reunite with Hope, because they wouldn’t have split up.

Venviel couldn’t deny that the five years had been worth it though. She’d done a lot of good. If she hadn’t lost her parents, would she have done anything for others? Or would she have thought of the poor as unworthy? She couldn’t recall that Thalia or Corym had helped anyone except themselves. But maybe they had without telling her. They’d helped Hope. And few were as lost, in a city full of elves, in a world without equals.

Venviel yawned until her jaw cricked, fell asleep, and awakened. All in the span of minutes. She thought she wouldn’t mind dying, right then and there, because at least then she would get to sleep.

In short-lived dreams, she imagined Hope as more lonely than ever before because she’d abandoned her. Venviel may think of herself as the victim of their love, but unless she learnt what had happened to Hope, it would not be true. She may be the perpetrator. She may have condemned Hope to suffer in her place.

If someone tortured Hope, the only woman who’d confessed such a peculiar thing as true love to her, she’d not forgive them. Thank the goddess they would be an elf, so she could subject them to pain for centuries to come. She may have missed out on ending Keerla’s life, but she wasn’t finished until the temple stopped. Everyone had to stop.

She groaned. Sadly, that included her. She wouldn’t stop fighting the temple, or its corrupt servants, but she could forgive them for one sin now that Keerla had paid with her life. If her mother and father would have wanted her to become friends with Hope, she should attempt to do at least that much. Count it as their final wish. Either Hope was the true love the goddess had promised, or she was evil incarnate.

Venviel chuckled, half-awake. The idea that Hope had a sliver of evil in her soul sounded ludicrous. Not once had she seen Hope do anything out of malice. She’d teased her, but Venviel had liked it.

No, Hope wouldn’t have sold her out. Not on purpose. The temple had used the pure-hearted woman from the beginning. They hadn’t given her a choice. Hope had been forced to choose between servitude or death. Most elves despised her for what she represented to them, but that only helped the temple keep Hope enslaved.

Venviel didn’t have a choice either, not anymore, not after she’d been left to dwell on her potential mistakes. She had to find Hope and clear everything up.

“Furore?” She asked and prayed the goddess would answer, but found herself left to her own devices. “Fate?”

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she’d entered the attic. She doubted she’d had a night’s sleep, but she may have wasted an hour or two, if she was lucky.

If the goddess refused to show when she required her assistance the most, Venviel may have to give herself up to Faraine. The inquisitor had mentioned a reward. Could she convince Faraine to bring her to Hope? Should she trust someone as crazy as the redhead? Probably not.

Venviel had to come up with a plan to find Hope. She could try to go on without her, but why bother? She yearned to sleep next to her again, kiss her until her lips bruised, and feel the twin tails where they shouldn’t be. Hope was a fitting name for someone who made her think there could be a bright future, beyond the never-ending clouds. It seemed a shame to throw that away to doubt and uncertainty.

Chained To Defeat

“Hope?” Furore asked. “Hope, are you listening?”

“Go away, leave me to…” She grunted. The false goddess was the only one who deigned to visit her. She’d had another meal since they last met, but it hadn’t left her feeling anything but hungry.

“Die?” Furore smirked and grabbed Hope by her neck. “Enough of this bullshit. At least when you walked free, I could tell myself that you lived your best life. Even if you didn’t stick to my plan. This, however, is beneath us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop it!” Furore shouted and alerted the guards outside. The false goddess glanced at the door, lifted Hope to her feet by her arm, and shrugged. “Hold on to me, or we might get separated. And you wouldn’t want that.”

Hope sighed, gripped Furore’s dress, and almost hurled as they flew through realities. They emerged on top of a craggy cliff overlooking a sea of boiling lava. Hope had visited this place before, when she’d dreamt, but now it inspired a real sense of dread. She might really fall and die if she stepped over the cliff. Heat wafted up from below, into her face, and scalded her skin.

“Welcome home, Hope.” Furore patted her so hard on the back that she recoiled from the cliff edge, lest she tumble and fall. “This is the Scarlet Kingdom, where I found you.”

“It is?”

Hope took in her surroundings, befuddled. She could detect no sign of life in the burning landscape. Only cliffs atop cliffs, endless lava, and a dark ruby sky far, far above. Although, what lay above them may not be the sky at all. They may be deep underground, deeper than any elf had ever delved. She couldn’t determine the nature or location of the Scarlet Kingdom.

“How do you like it? Doesn’t beat Lho Allanar, does it?” Furore grinned, poked the tip of her jagged dagger into her own chin, and waited for a compliment of some sort.

“It’s very…” Hope didn’t want to offend the false goddess, who clearly possessed powers beyond her scope. “Unique.”

“What?” Furore scoffed. “No. No, it’s not. It’s cliché beyond belief. Itrix doesn’t understand the awesomeness inherit in elven architecture. He, wrongfully, thinks demons does it better.”

“Demons?”

“Yes…” Furore waved her hand, made a bench rise out of the cliff, sat, and gestured for Hope to follow suit. “I had no intention of telling you this, because I thought you might screw up my plans for expansion, but you can’t. It’s too late. The other gods have accepted me as the goddess of love by now, or they’re too preoccupied with their own scheming. Fate may be my only ally, but… Never mind.” Furore took a deep breath, gazed out across the sea of lava. “Hope, you were a demon once. We were created in the same chamber.”

Hope might have liked to return to the cell, rather than listen to the false goddess. She opened her mouth to reject her words, hesitated, and looked at Furore. They both had horns, weird eyes, and vibrant skin. Furore’s body was a darker purple, while Hope’s was a soft lavender, but there were obvious similarities between them. Furore seemed to know a lot about her origin too, even if she’d never made an attempt to explain why before.

“I’m a demon?”

“No, you were a demon. Once.” Furore stretched her legs out over the cliff. “You’re mortal now, Hope. You can blame that on me. I won’t take responsibility, necessarily, but it’s my fault. I had grand plans for you, if you could prove that you could survive on the surface, and if you could find someone to mate with.”

“If you’re the goddess of love, couldn’t you decide that I would have a true love to have children with?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“That’s what your temple says.”

Furore faced her with a winsome grin. “Some idiot god decided to give mortals free will. At most, I as a goddess can write your name on my list, and lead you along the way. I haven’t guided your steps because I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with what?”

“I have millions of names on my list, Hope. I may have been a minor goddess, in the beginning, when I usurped the throne, but I’ve expanded my empire over the centuries. We both started out as demons, but while I’ve risen, I fear you’re falling deeper and deeper. You have to make a choice to get back up, Hope. They can’t defeat you unless you let them.”

Hope laughed at that. She only felt beaten these days. Hungry. “You only think so because you’re powerful. But I’m weak. Mortal. I have no powers.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Furore glanced at her briefly, averted her gaze like everyone else when their eyes met, and grinned. “I don’t fully understand what I created when I altered you, but I do believe you have a feature that gives you some modicum of power. Your eyes worked on Venviel, and there’s nothing special about her. She’s another traumatized elf.”

“Venviel is special!” Hope exclaimed. “She’s my… a hero.”

“Your hero?” Furore snorted, extended her hand in front of her, and made the jagged dagger grow in length until it became a sword. “I’m sick of heroes. They’re self-righteous, full of themselves. Even when you do your best for them, they curse your name and label you a twisted demon. The world doesn’t need more heroes.”

“Yes, it does. Lho Allanar—“

“Hope, listen to me.” Furore laid an arm over her shoulders, pulled her close, and sheathed her sword at her hip. “You can save yourself. I believe in you. The elves have underestimated you so long they won’t know what to think when you use your demon powers. You’ll leave them quivering, in fear, wetting themselves.”

“You’re delusional. I don’t have magical eyes. If I did, I wouldn’t know how to use them. You haven’t trained me.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start, Hope, but I’ve faith in you.” Furore kissed her on the head, in a manner which was strangely similar to how a parent might kiss their baby. “You’re a demon. It’s in your blood. You don’t need training. What you need is an unquestionable belief in yourself, pure unadulterated arrogance, and you’ll go further than anyone. Your subservience has held you back.”

“I doubt it’s the only thing I lack. I…” Hope relaxed against Furore. “I couldn’t hurt anyone. I don’t want to kill the inquisitors or the priestesses. They were my friends, once.”

“They weren’t. If they didn’t outright ignore your existence, they took advantage of you.” Furore lifted her arm off Hope’s shoulders. “Maybe there’s something else you lack too, besides confidence, but I can’t imagine what it would be. It’s not like you lose anything if you try to climb out of the hole they’ve put you in.”

“I guess.”

She didn’t want to kill, but maybe she could channel whatever power coursed through her blood in some other way. Furore had a point. If she failed, nothing would happen. She’d at most hurt herself. If she succeeded, she might change her current fate. And she didn’t want to rot in a dungeon.

“Venviel will definitely fall harder for demon Hope than inquisitor Hope.” Furore nudged her with her elbow. “No criminal loves a judge.”

“She…” Hoped trailed off, her tails thumped the cliff in anticipation. She nodded, and knew she had to try. For herself, for Venviel. “I think I love her. I—“

Something under the cliff let out a guttural, primal roar that caused her tails to immediately stop moving.

“Fantastic, kid.” Furore flashed a hesitant grin. “You ready to get out of here? I’m afraid Ithrix has noticed us in his domain, and truthfully, he kind of hates my entire thing. Personality, looks. All of it.”

Hope took a quick, final look at the Scarlet Kingdom. The place which might have been her home if Furore hadn’t gotten involved. The goddess was right. It was sort of unremarkable, but any place would have been without Venviel. Hope wouldn’t have felt at home among demons. Not without someone who cherished her.

“I’m ready,” Hope said. “And I’ll try to use my eyes for… others, if I have any powers at all.”

“Wrong attitude. Don’t think of others. Think of yourself as the greatest good in all the realms.”

“I’m a goddess then?”

“That’s the spirit.” Furore smirked and grabbed her. “Now, let’s get you back to your cell. The Scarlet Kingdom is not for mortals.”

Lost Cause

Faraine caressed her mace lovingly while Venviel walked down the scaffolding towards the grassy, overgrown courtyard of the palace. She hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d set up camp, summoned a couple of guards, and waited her out. The sun hadn’t crawled far across the sky since they’d last seen each other.

Venviel had exerted effort, climbing the tower, for naught. She may as well have asked Faraine if she could have napped in the tent she’d erected.

“Slept well, rabbit?” Faraine asked.

“None of your business. “ Venviel struggled to stop herself from yawning. “Is your offer still open, or do your lackeys change matters?”

“Why?” Faraine didn’t acknowledge the guards. Neither of the men would move a muscle unless she ordered them to. “You think you can give me the slip twice in one day?”

“No, but…” Venviel unsheathed her rapier, pointed it at Faraine, and readied herself. “If your offer is still on the table, you’d capture me alive, not dead. Isn’t that worth more?”

“I’m sure it is.” Faraine pointed the mace at her. “So sure, my offer is on the table. If you give yourself over to me, I’ll reward you. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“Good.” Venviel yawned, lowered her rapier. “Bring me to Hope.”

“Hope?” Faraine looked disappointed. “Here I thought we’d have fun, you and I. Not you and the monster.”

“I don’t care what you do with me afterwards, Faraine, but I want to see Hope in the flesh.”

“This might be your final wish, before they decide to hang you for treason.” Faraine extended her hand towards one of the guards, and the man threw her a rope. “Are you certain you wish to waste it on Hope?”

“I am, but I also need you to swear you’ll bring me to her, or I’ll cut you down.”

“I’ll bash your face in, you mean. You won’t land a scratch on me.”

“Probably the likelier outcome.” Venviel turned her head from side to side to shake her bangs out of her face. “Someone will die though. And you will not be promoted as high as you could be.”

“I swear I’ll bring you to Hope.” Faraine held her mace in one hand, the rope in the other, and approached with slow steps. “Good enough for you, rabbit?”

“Swear on the goddess.” Venviel raised her rapier, stepped backward. If Hope didn’t appreciate her for what she did when she surrendered, Venviel would have some harsh words for her.

Faraine paused, raised her gaze towards the sky, and gripped the rope. “I…”

“Do it!”

“Fine, you bitch.” Faraine growled, strapped the mace to her belt. “I swear on the goddess herself that I’ll bring you to your precious Hope. Are you happy?”

“I am.” Venviel sheathed her rapier as well, so when they met each other at the bottom of the scaffolding, they didn’t come to blows.

“I pray this hurts.” Faraine grabbed her arms, twisted them up behind her back, and forced Venviel to kneel. Then she tied her hands, so hard that she might have stopped blood from flowing freely through her limbs.

“Isn’t it odd how the goddess encourages this kind of behaviour?”

“She’s the goddess of love, not mercy.” Faraine pulled her up on her feet. “If you’re doing this for Hope, how are you blind to the fact that the goddess is exactly as cruel to you as your own heart? Surrendering to me is not sane. It’s not smart. It’s emotional.”

“I’m doing this because—“

“You’re doing it because you love someone. You could’ve fled, years ago, but you love Lho Allanar too.”

Venviel didn’t respond. Faraine could think whatever she wanted to justify her actions, but the temple was needlessly cruel. Love wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty. It was a mere side effect. Life and fate could be ruthless, but love did its best. Even Furore, in spite of her glaring flaws, seemed to do her best. The goddess was just utterly incapable of doing anything right. Incompetent.

“Let’s bring the rabbit to the dungeon, and—“

“You swore you’d bring me to Hope!” Venviel shouted. “Does it take no time for you to break your word? Do you have no honour?”

Faraine struck her over the head. “I am bringing you to Hope. She’s in the dungeon.”

“What’s she doing there if…” Venviel trailed off. She should have trusted Hope. They wouldn’t have locked her in a dungeon if she’d sided with the temple.

“While we walk, I’d like for you to shut your mouth,” Faraine said. “If you speak, if you get cocky, I’ll cave your skull in and dump you in the ocean. That’ll teach others a lesson, if nothing else.”

Venviel nodded in response. Faraine dragged her out of the courtyard, down the road, and away from the palace. The guards followed, but they didn’t speak either. At most, they told those bystanders who were too curious to mind their own business.

She hoped she’d get a chance to set things right with Hope, to begin again, but it seemed doubtful. The temple didn’t show mercy to its prisoners. The inquisitors executed them in public on orders from the high priestess.

If Venviel was shown mercy, it would only be because someone had killed Keerla before she’d gotten around to it. Unfortunately, no one thought someone else than her had assassinated the high priestess. They’d chased her because they’d decided she was the culprit. She could see why she should have trusted Hope all along. She’d had as much actual proof that Hope had betrayed her and her parents as the temple now had against her. None whatsoever.

Empathy

It may have been easy for Furore to unleash her demonic powers, but after the goddess had returned her to her cell, Hope had been trying for hours without accomplishing anything. She’d screamed, banged her fists against the walls, dug her nails into her skin, kicked the door, roared at the guards outside, and threatened to destroy the temple. Yet nothing happened.

Furore had left her to rot with the belief that she could free herself, but even though Hope had only grown angrier and angrier, especially at the false goddess, she’d gotten nowhere. She was as trapped and hungry as every other day.

She’d begun to doubt whether Furore had even told her the truth. If she was the goddess of love, it was already evident she resented Hope. Maybe she only wanted to heighten her suffering before she succumbed to starvation.

One of the guards banged on the door to her cell. “Stay by the far wall, prisoner.”

Hope stepped over to the wall, crossed her arms, and leaned against the stones. The guard unlocked the door to her cell, pulled it open, and stepped aside to let others enter. She’d expected to see Vaeri again since the priestess hadn’t visited in days. She’d not expected, or even wanted, to see Venviel. Not under these circumstances.

Faraine, an inquisitor Hope mostly knew by reputation, pushed Venviel inside and stopped in the doorway. Venviel stumbled, yawned, and blinked drowsily as she tried to get accustomed to the darkness. They’d tied her hands behind her back.

“Is this good enough for you, rabbit?” Faraine pushed Venviel further. “Go ahead, say your farewells. Neither of you are getting out of this alive.”

“Hope?” Venviel stared straight into her eyes. She was the only one brave enough to keep eye contact longer than seconds. “I should have trusted you. I’m sorry.”

Hope rushed over to her, despite the guard’s loud protests, and hugged Venviel like their lives depended on it. If Faraine or the guards struck her down for hugging her love, so be it. “No. I’m sorry.” Hope trailed her hands along Venviel’s midsection, hips, and found the rapier in its scabbard. Why hadn’t Faraine disarmed Venviel when they’d captured her?

“You should stop saying that, Hope. I don’t know anyone with less to apologize for.” Venviel pressed her head against hers. “Sorry sounds as bad coming from your lips as Miss Amicier.”

“Cute.” Faraine made a hoarse, throaty noise like she was about to vomit. “Miss Amicier. I prefer rabbit.”

Hope put her mouth next to Venviel’s ear, glared at the inquisitor, and whispered: “Would you die with me?”

Venviel nodded without hesitating. Hope had predicted another day of darkness, and no escape, since her demonic blood had failed her. Instead, she pushed Venviel to the side, stepped forth, and positioned herself between Orchid Brave and the temple.

If Faraine or the guards wanted Venviel, they would have to go through her. It would be quite poetic for them to die together in a secret cell somewhere under Lho Allanar. Syvis might write about them, one day, if their story got out.

“Don’t be stupid, Hope.” Faraine drew her mace. “As much as I would personally like to kill both of you, I’m not doing this for pleasure. Step aside. The rabbit is mine. She promised she wouldn’t pull stupid stunts.”

“Faraine, you need to leave.” Hope fixated her with her gaze, imagined herself drilling through her grey eyes, dominating her psyche, and using a seed of power to get the inquisitor to obey. For Venviel, Orchid Brave, her love. “Venviel is mine. If you think I’ll surrender her into your custody, you’re sorely mistaken. As far as I’m aware, I’ve not been officially relieved of my duties. I’m an inquisitor too.”

Faraine opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. The redhead seemed taken aback by her sudden inability to speak. She tried and tried to speak, stuck her tongue out, but she couldn’t voice her displeasure.

It was the first sign to Hope that Furore may actually have told her the truth. She’d never shut anyone up before. They’d always ordered her to be quiet, bow low, and listen. Always. She’d been a doormat to them.

Faraine composed herself, raised her mace, and moved to attack. The guards unsheathed their swords as well.

“Leave! Now!” Hope shouted for Venviel, stretched her arms forth, and staggered the five elves. She forced them to retreat with willpower and love.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Venviel said.

“I couldn’t…” Hope smiled in disbelief. “Not without you.”

“Give me the rabbit, Hope,” Faraine struggled to form the words and grimaced, as if overcome by grief. “You’re in over your head.”

“I’m not! You’re spitting in the face of the goddess!” Hope swore she kept the confused guards at bay with her voice alone.

But Faraine was another matter entirely. The inquisitor forced her eyes shut, swung her mace at Hope, and broke her right forearm with a loud, disgusting crunch. Hope whimpered in pain, withdrew her arm, and clutched it against her chest. She stopped looking at her enemies to nurse her injury. They shook whatever spell she’d put them under.

“I love you, Venviel.”

“Die together then.” Faraine swung her mace with wild abandon again, but didn’t open her eyes, and missed. “Come, come, monster. I might hit the rabbit otherwise. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Hope raised her uninjured arm, focused on Venviel, and did what Furore had encouraged her to do. Channel her demonic energy towards the temple. She didn’t draw power from arrogance, but she connected with a well which had been closed and unseen to her in the past. It opened up to her like dawn after a season-long night.

“I love you too, Hope,” Venviel whispered. “For all the good that does us now.”

Hope’s connection to the well strengthened with Venviel’s confession. So near and dear, it burst with intense radiance. Her twin tails wrapped around the elf’s leg to have her closer, and siphon strength from someone who’d always seemed impervious.

She welcomed the well’s light into herself. Only when it was too late did she realize that there was such a thing as too much power. It made her wobbly and weak. Her vision darkened. She stood on the edge of unconsciousness and unleashed everything.

Faraine’s mace struck her right arm again, again, and left her bones shattered, broken. Then the light from the well exploded into the cell.

Miracle

“That’s new,” Furore said when she witnessed Hope’s light through Fate’s glass ball. “And very disconcerting.”

She’d thought there was a limit to Hope’s power, or she wouldn’t have told her the truth about her origins. Yet the light that emerged out of Hope spread through the cell, the dungeon, and spilled out into the streets of Lho Allanar like waves. It engulfed elf after terrified elf.

It wasn’t until Furore looked up at Fate that she saw the goddess pulling at golden and silver threads which appeared midair. She weaved something new, for the inhabitants of Lho Allanar, out of the old.

“Wha… What are you doing?”

“I need to make it whole,” Fate muttered but her concentration was on the light in the glass ball. Hope did not possess the power to swallow Lho Allanar. Fate used her as a vessel.

“You do?” Furore wondered if she had to slay another goddess with Grinja. It would be a pity. She enjoyed Fate, particularly when she sat in her lap.

“I…” Fate smiled, nodded. “I’ve been sick. I understand now, my melancholia infected your creation. But you loved me, dear, and so I’ll repay your kindness. Gods don’t love other gods.”

“They don’t?”

“We’ll make an exception.” Fate bit her lip, shot her a lustful wink, and tugged on an emerald string. “After I mend the flaws in your city, we should try for a demigod. Perfection isn’t possible for a lone goddess. Regardless of how hot she is.”

“Um…” Furore looked into the glass ball. Fate struck her as too intense to behold. “A demigod? How do you create those?”

“How indeed.” Fate giggled.

Torn

Venviel tried to slip her restraints by dislodging her thumbs, but neither the ropes nor her thumbs budged. She found herself lost in a landscape of searing white. She might have gone blind, because of Hope’s magic, or she might have perished.

If she’d died, she was disappointed that Hope wasn’t with her. Maybe they found themselves in wholly different realms after death. They might be separated forever. She didn’t want that. If anything, she longed to achieve immortality with Hope. Her love.

She kicked at the ground and stirred up a cloud of pink leaves. They fell around her, carried by gusts which tugged at her clothes, and freed her restraints. The white landscape gave way and revealed the earth. The pink leaves covered everything beneath her feet.

She trudged through piles of leaves, tired, and wished she’d discover Hope somewhere. Without her, she’d be lost again. She’d give in to doubt and fear and mistrust. With her, she could become someone great. She could be the hero some thought of her as.

Eventually, she spotted two figures through the white landscape, through the mist. They both waved at her to turn around, go back, and leave them in peace. She stopped in her tracks. Did they seem strangely familiar, or was it her imagination?

When it occurred to her who they were, Venviel walked faster. No, she ran. If she’d died, at least she wouldn’t be alone. Thalia and Corym became clearer and clearer through the mist, until she couldn’t possibly mistake them for anyone else. Her mother and father stood a short distance ahead, yet they backed away and shook their heads, as if they didn’t want her.

“Wait!” She called out to them. “Wait for me!”

“Don’t chase us, Venviel!” Thalia shouted while cupping her hands around her mouth. “You might lose out on precious time.”

“How?”

Corym twirled his finger and gestured for her to spin around. Venviel glanced back over her shoulder, and Hope stood there, in the field of leaves, with a grim expression. If they’d all been reunited, she didn’t understand her mother’s warning. They could leave Lho Allanar to the ages. Why bother with a city that despised them?

“Hope, come, let’s go,” Venviel said and offered her hand, but Hope didn’t move.

“I believe the goddess is giving you a choice,” Corym said. “Not a nice choice, or a choice I envy you, but well, a choice.”

“A choice?” She faced her parents and realized what her father meant when they began to disappear into the mist again. “No… No. Not this. I can’t possibly choose… Please, don’t do this to me. I can’t choose…”

“We know!” Thalia shouted. “We’re making the choice for you, so stop being stubborn, Venviel.”

“Live your life!” Corym smiled. “There’ll be time. We’ll see each other again, one day, thousands of years from now, but live your life. Don’t take that pleasure away from your wise old father, and your crone of a mother.”

“Quiet you.” Thalia rolled her eyes. “We’ll miss you, Venviel, but we’re glad to see we left you in the best of hands.”

Her mother and father shot each other knowing looks. Venviel hadn’t cried for them in a long time, but watching them argue and then reconcile brought her loss to the surface. Tears threatened to erupt and never cease, if she listened to their advice.

How could she choose to leave them again? She’d already failed to save their lives, five years ago, and now they pretended like they didn’t want her help. The goddess was cruel beyond belief if she thought this was a suitable choice for her to make.

She took a step towards her parents, her heart stood still. Thalia and Corym shooed her away. They did everything in their power to make the choice for her, and lessen the burden she would carry, but she’d always blame herself. She could have done more for them. They must know it too.

Venviel raised her hand in a half-hearted wave, almost tripped over her own feet as she turned, and ran to Hope. She sought solace in Hope’s broken arms, tackled her in a desperate hug, and stained her true love’s skin with a river of tears.

“Don’t leave me, don’t. Please, don’t even think about it. I need you so bad. I won’t survive losing you too.” Venviel found it difficult to breathe through the stone in her throat. “I am sorry for thinking of getting revenge on you. You’re a blessing. You’re my goddess. There is nothing more precious to me than your heart. I won’t break it. I swear I won’t.”

Hope patted her on the back, ran her nails across her shoulder blades. “It’s fine if you do. I gave you permission.”

Horizon

Lho Allanar changed after Hope expended the power she’d stored over the years she’d been unaware of her demonic origin. The city attained an eerie red glow, as if the sun promised to envelop everyone who didn’t behave in its fiery light and burn them alive.

If anyone asked, she couldn’t explain how she’d escaped the dungeon. One moment she’d had her arm bashed to pieces, the next she’d found herself embraced on a beach by Venviel who’d mumbled about her parents and professed undying love.

Her arm had still been broken, shattered, but she’d been free. For the first time in what might have been weeks, she’d seen the sky. She’d made love to Venviel among the waves of the ocean, and pretended like her broken bones didn’t hurt in the slightest.

Faraine and Vaeri stopped pursuing them, joined forces, and worked to unite the temple under new leadership. Whatever the city had experienced while she’d blacked out had scared its inhabitants, left permanent marks, and would not soon be forgotten.

Rumours spread that the goddess had reminded the priestesses of their mortality and subservience. In turn, many wealthy elves donated enormous amounts of gold and food to shrines and begged for forgiveness in the streets.

Hope prayed Lho Allanar would truly change for the better, since it appeared so for the first time in her life, but she had her doubts. Nothing changed miraculously overnight. Divine influence might inspire tremendous upheaval, but elves were stubborn. They had time on their side. They might forget their lesson.

“Hope?” Venviel encouraged their stolen brown horses to slow down and turned to look at her in the back of the wagon.

“What?” Hope flipped the page of one the few books they’d brought with them. They’d packed dried meat, vegetables, and supplies to last weeks in the wilderness. Her arm had begun to heal since Venviel had wrapped it in cloth and crafted a sling for her.

“Would you want to have a child with me?”

Hope coughed and raised the book in front of her face to hide. “Please don’t tell me you need me to explain how children are made.”

“I don’t.” Venviel refocused her attention on the road. “Furore offered to help. Mentioned something about an experiment. Maybe it’s not relevant, right now, but if we return to Lho Allanar, would you want to?”

“I…” Hope blushed. “Absolutely, Venviel. The goddess of love would want us to procreate, if at all possible, and I know you’re eager to raise children as followers of her religion.”

“Never!”

“What!” Hope hugged the book in her lap. “Do we not share the same beliefs? Have you tricked me into loving you?”

“No idea why you’d do it otherwise.”

“Because you’re a wonderful woman, and my hero.” Hope started to read again, then she realized she’d not given a serious answer. “I would bear your children, Venviel. You shouldn’t have to ask.”

“That’s…” Venviel brought the wagon to a halt in the middle of a field.

Waves crashed against sandy cliffs, seagulls squawked in the sky. When Hope turned her head, she could see the palace of Lho Allanar in the distance. Its spires peeked over the horizon, reminded her of worse days, and wavered in the city’s new glow.

She’d not wanted to leave her home, not really, but it would be for the best if they laid low for a while. Hope had no idea how long she would live, but Venviel was a young elf. She had centuries ahead of her. Hope prayed she’d live as long as her, but she shouldn’t take time for granted. It might escape her if she did.

If they couldn’t return to Lho Allanar, they ought to do their best to create a new town on this very field. Merchants often traveled the road between Xenthien and Lho Allanar. They weren’t alone in wilds they couldn’t survive. No, it’d make sense for people to thrive here, on the coast, between a city state and a country.

“I’d like to name a tavern after Thalia and Corym.” Venviel climbed off the wagon, inhaled the salty air, and stretched her limbs.

“What would you call it?” Hope was too comfortable to rise from her seat, but her arm hadn’t healed yet, so Venviel would forgive her for being lazy. “The Amicier’s…?”

“The Traders’ Sanctuary.”

“Fitting, but I think you ought to include your family name.”

“I figured it would be disrespectful towards you, if we’re going to own it together.”

“Oh…” Hope shrugged. “I guess you may as well start calling me Hope Amicier then, since I don’t have a family name.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Venviel walked around the wagon, threw her arms around Hope, and pressed her wet lips against her cheek. “Would you marry me?”

“I see.” Hope faked a frown, even as her heart raced. “You planned to get me pregnant with your children, with the goddess’ help, and marry someone else. Can’t marry below your status, can you, Miss Amicier?”

“When you say yes, Hope, you won’t be able to call me Miss Amicier anymore.” Venviel slid a hand into her blouse.

“Why’s that?” Hope craned her neck to give Venviel full access. She shivered as the elf pinched her skin and laid her other hand under her chin.

“It won’t be true. I’ll be Madam Amicier, or Lady Amicier.”

“What will I be?”

“Anything you want, anything I can realize.” Venviel kissed her upside down. “Mine, more. I’ll give you the world.”

“Yes.” Hope said, and a weight she didn’t know she’d carried lifted from her shoulders. “Yes.”

The Amiciers’ Rest

Venviel had assumed they’d return to Lho Allanar, sooner or later, and the tavern had sort of been a joke to persuade Hope to stay by her side in the wild. She’d wished to honour her parents, sure, but what had she known about running a tavern? Not a whole lot. She’d barely paid attention when Thalia or Corym had tried to teach her about the emporium.

So, in the end, everything about Caelora had come as a pleasant surprise, like dew on the first morning of spring.

Over the last hundred years, they’d transitioned from building and running a tavern by the ocean to welcoming more and more elves from Lho Allanar into their community of outsiders. Someone had dubbed their small village Caelora, at some point, and it had caught on. They’d changed the name of their tavern a couple of times as well, as they’d expanded, but finally settled on The Amiciers’ Rest.

“I win!” Gale kicked Hymn’s leg out from under her and performed a happy little dance on the spot. Waves crashed around them. The wind picked up and tore at their fine, beige shirts. They looked like forest spirits drawn by a master painter in the most unorthodox location. A beach.

“Not fair!” Hymn turned her head away from her twin as she kicked sand everywhere. “She cheated again, mother, as soon as you stopped looking.”

“You can’t expect your opponent to always fight fair,” Venviel said. “You may have to choose between fighting fair and winning.”

“And the instructor not being very observant.” Gale smacked her sister’s leg with her wooden sword.

“Ouch…” Hymn crawled over to Venviel, got back up on her feet, and sought shelter behind her.

Gale giggled and strode after her sister with confident steps.

Venviel drew her rapier and pointed it at her daughter to dissuade her from attacking her twin again. “Enough, Gale. You’ve had your fun. You either accept victory with some semblance of respect for your opponent, or you’ll fight me.”

“How much longer do you think you’ll best me, oldie?”

“Oldie…?” Venviel squinted. “I’m not even two-hundred.”

“So old.” Hymn agreed with her twin.

Venviel stepped aside, gestured for Gale to continue what she’d been doing, and sheathed her rapier again as Hymn screamed and fled towards the path leading up to Caelora on top of the cliffs. Gale gave chase.

The twins may look strange with their half-elven, half demon heritage, but no one could deny that they were striking. They’d inherited traits from both her and Hope. They had longer, pointier ears than Hope, a single tail each, bright green bodies, and eyes which laid somewhere between an elf’s and a demon’s. At times, Venviel could see their irises underneath a thin cyan layer.

She made sure her daughters hadn’t forgotten anything on the beach, then she followed them up the path. She could hear them arguing, screaming, and laughing above her as the path turned, but she soon lost sight of them.

Venviel didn’t see them again until she entered The Amiciers’ Rest on top of the cliff. The grand interior of the tavern had started out modest, but over the decades, they’d expanded and expanded until they had twenty large tables for guests, wide paintings on the walls, and about thirty bedrooms of varying sizes. Their largest bedroom was almost the same size as the dining hall.

Hope wiped the counter while Art, their only and youngest son, held onto his mother’s apron and followed her around while sucking on his dark green thumb.

Venviel hadn’t aged a day compared to Hope. She often fretted over her wife’s wrinkles, especially those around her pretty eyes, but Hope only laughed her worries off and swore stress had created them, not age. Venviel didn’t know if it was true or not. Hope didn’t act older, she retained plenty of energy.

She’d made an attempt at getting an answer out of Furore, begged on her knees, but the goddess didn’t visit anymore. Not after she’d given Venviel and Hope the ability to procreate. Furore had never cared. She only needed her followers to worship the ground she walked on.

“Could you finish preparing breakfast in the kitchen, Hymn?” Hope asked the daughter who might obey. “Our guests will come down soon, and I want everything ready.”

“Yes, mother.” Hymn stroked her bruised elbow, glared at Gale, and stuck her tongue out. “I’m the only woman fit to inherit this place.”

Gale snorted. “I wouldn’t—“

“Don’t underestimate your brother.” Hope interrupted Gale and patted Art on his bald head. His horns hadn’t grown out yet, and maybe they never would. Hymn didn’t have them. Gale’s thick horns curled back over her head and reminded Venviel of a majestic mountain goat. They were larger than Hope’s.

“Art will contribute a great deal in his time,” Venviel chimed in, shut the door behind her, and grabbed a broom. “You could always train him early, Hymn, if you wish to have an assistant.”

Hymn offered her hand to Art, as she disappeared into the kitchen. He hesitated before he let go off Hope’s apron to go with his sister, still sucking on his thumb.

“They’re great.” Hope smiled at Venviel.

“Aren’t they?”

“Yeah! Well!” Gale kicked a chair out from under a table, leapt onto it, and balanced it on two legs by putting one foot on its back and one on the seat. “If you only see their value, you don’t need me to entertain your guests ever again, do you? I’ll abscond with the next band of smugglers, become a pirate. I’ll achieve such renown that it makes you regret every unkind word and sentiment. You’ll see! Orchid Brave? More like Orchid… Knave!”

Venviel groaned. She shouldn’t have told her daughters about her past, not even as a bedtime story. In her defense, she’d thought they’d forget about it. Hymn seemed to have, yet she’d often caught Gale grinning at her when she thought she wasn’t looking, like she saw a valiant hero in her mother.

“It’s good to have dreams.” Hope grabbed Gale’s lute from under the counter, walked up to her daughter, and offered her the instrument with a patient smile. “But until you become a pirate, you have to earn your keep. If you can play for an hour while balancing on the chair like that, I’ll pay you extra. Double.”

“Of course I can.” Gale took the lute and strummed a catchy, upbeat tune. “Watch me, mother. You’ll lose this bet. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked.” Hope strode up to Venviel with a suggestive grin, swayed her hips, and battered her eyelashes.

“What?” Venviel swept the floor. She would have lifted Hope onto one of the tables, taken her in the middle of the tavern, if they’d been alone. She’d done it during late nights, when their daughters had gone to sleep early, when Hope had approached her in a similar manner.

“I adore you.” Hope stepped up to her, grabbed the broom, and tossed it aside. “Do you want to dance? Gale might need encouragement to keep up that balancing act of hers.”

“Oooh, you want a dragged out, lovey-dovey ballad?” Gale hummed a note, higher and higher, then she strummed the intro to an elven ballad about the old Lho Allanar, the original city, and its demise.

“She’ll win the bet.” Venviel grabbed Hope’s right hand, intertwined their fingers, and laid her other arm around her wife’s waist. “I have no doubt.”

“And why’s that?” Hope asked, even as Gale played and sang her heart out in the background. She should be too young, too inexperienced, to sing with the depth, the sorrow, she did, but Gale must have inherited a certain demonic power from Hope.

“She takes after me.” Venviel pressed their bodies together, kissed Hope, and inhaled her vanilla scent. “I would have passed out before I’d lost such an easy bet.”

“Are you suggesting I make it harder on her?”

“Not necessary,” Gale murmured through the ballad.

Venviel lead Hope around the tables in an intimate dance. Corym had taught her how to dance, but she’d had to teach Hope herself after they’d left Lho Allanar, since the temple hadn’t thought of it as a required skill for disciples or inquisitors. Nonetheless, Hope had become an excellent dancer over the years.

Furore had claimed Hope wouldn’t belong anywhere, with anyone, unless she had her own people, but Venviel had proved her wrong. She’d swear it high and low. Every time she watched Hope fawn over their children, slumber next to her in bed, or care for a newcomer in the village, Venviel assured herself that she’d built a real home for someone who’d grown up without a family. They’d created it together, but how else could she have done it? Hope’s input would always be vital.

During their worst arguments, during the hard times, a part of her may have regretted how she’d not had more of an influence on society in Lho Allanar than as a legend, but she would make the same choice again.

She wouldn’t waste five years in the tunnels. She’d mourn her parents, forgive the temple, and do everything in her power to find Hope sooner. They could have done more good together from the start. Love had convinced her to renounce revenge.

“You’re such an alluring creature.” Hope groped her butt.

“Am I attractive enough for a fourth child?” Venviel returned the favour by sliding her hand up under Hope’s apron.

“Wouldn’t you—“

The ballad came to an abrupt end when Gale fell off the chair with a crash and reminded them of how they were not alone, even if it was difficult to remember anyone else when they stood so close together.

Gale & Hymn

Wendy T. Lyoness

Copyright © 2020 by Wendy T. Lyoness

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Wendy’s Newsletter. Wendy’s Facebook.

The Last Stand

Iorvil kneeled next to the Keeper, who pressed his palm against a grievous wound in his side. Blood stained his ornate robe, an explosion tore a new hole in the deck above them. The ship would crash soon, but she had a moment for farewells. Keeper Jerfell smiled at her through his long, bloodied, white beard, yet the wrinkles in his old face only whispered of pain.

She’d thought they would survive, done everything in her power to encourage everyone to fight on through defeat after defeat, but now she found herself surrounded by bodies.

At least her brethren had given their all before they’d fallen. Thotrix had lost more servants than Rhabour had lost faithful on this day. It wouldn’t make a difference, not when they’d always been outnumbered, but her friends could depart in peace. Their god could make no more demands of them. They’d paid with their lives, they’d claimed their first victory in months.

“Take my necklace,” Jerfell said, and raised his hand to his neck, but groaned in pain before he could free the holy symbol. His arm hit the deck with a thud.

“Not mine, Keeper.” Iorvil pressed her palms against his wound and prayed it would stop the bleeding. That, somehow, despite common sense, she could heal him with nothing but warmth. “It’s—“

“Take it, Iorvil.” Jerfell narrowed his eyes. “If Rhabour finds himself with a single faithful left, that person must do everything in their power to spread his faith. This doesn’t have to be your end. Save our brethren. Search for a new beginning in the circles.”

She would have protested, but Jerfell closed his eyes and departed with the rest of them. He’d said his last piece. He would have the final word, as so many times before, and nothing she did would bring him back for another argument.

Iorvil removed the necklace from his neck. The round medallion waxed and waned like the phases of the moon, dependent on how light fell on it. It weighed more than she’d expected, yet it wouldn’t lend her the time to undo all their losses. Even though it had served as a holy symbol to keepers for centuries.

She grabbed her double edged axe, rose to her feet, clutched the necklace in her hand, and nodded at the fallen faithful while she passed across the deck on her way to the captain’s cabin where the last of Thotrix’s servants lingered. They’d barricaded themselves inside with their machine. Her sister.

“Rhabour…” Iorvil stopped outside of the barricaded door. A powerful wind swept bodies out of the holes in the hull. She didn’t like to beg her god for assistance, but if he planned to help, this would be the time. She wouldn’t get the door open before the ship crashed. “Lend me your strength, aid me in our darkest hour, and I swear I will be a loyal champion.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder, yet when she turned to look, she didn’t see anyone. It was as much of a sign as she would receive from a weakened deity. Without thousands of followers, Rhabour amounted to no more than her personal light.

Iorvil hung the necklace around her neck, prepared herself for battle, and attempted to kick the door open.

It exploded into the captain’s cabin, along with the furniture they’d used for their barricade, and crushed two of Thotrix’s servants against the opposite wall.

With Rhabour’s assistance, she ended the lives of her enemies as if they’d been beetles. Without her god, she wouldn’t have gotten the door open. He had much to offer yet.

A third man rushed for the woman they’d kidnapped.

Iorvil tossed her axe before he could use her as a human shield. It collided with his torso in a spray of blood, knocked him into the wall, and pinned him there with a wet thonk. He wouldn’t get down unless she retrieved her weapon.

“Barbarian.” The man coughed blood on his embroidered tunic. “Look around, you’re alone. What do you think to accomplish by freeing my machine?”

“She, and those like her, are my brethren.”

“She’s our invention…” The man laughed while life seeped out of him.

Iorvil despised Thotrix’s servants for how they treated those with magical prowess after they snatched them from Rhabour. When she looked at this woman cowering in front of her, in the middle of the cabin, she recognized the proud features of her own people, their height, their rugged hair, their cold eyes, but Thotrix had replaced everything else.

The servants of the inventor god had given her sister a new forest green gown, and under that gown, they’d attached their machines to her arms to tap into her power, combine it with their god, and make their ships lift off the ground.

Iorvil approached her sister, slowly, with outstretched hands like someone might approach a terrified, injured horse. “Don’t be scared. You don’t have to serve them any longer. You—“

“Phoxene, crash the ship.” The man gave her sister his last order. “Far, far from the empire.”

“As you wish,” Phoxene said, stretched her arms out along her sides, and roared when they began to crackle, click, and whirr.

The atmosphere in the cabin became charged with energy. The gods watched them contemptuously.

“Don’t!” Iorvil stepped up to the man, since she didn’t dare touch her sister, and dislodged her axe from his body, the wall, and cut his head off his neck lest he utter another command. “Don’t crash the ship. He’s dead, can’t hurt you.”

Phoxene stared, opened her mouth. Sparks surged between her lips. “In the name of god.”

Iorvil knew she shouldn’t have showed weakness, not even to one of her brethren, when the airship rolled and threw her against the wall of the cabin.

Phoxene unleashed the energy amplified by the unnatural inventions drilled into her arms. The ship lurched, then it jumped.

Ocean Soul

Hymn walked around the main hall of her family’s tavern, The Amiciers’ Rest, wiped large, wooden table tops down, and hummed to calm herself. She’d worked the entire day, from morning to nightfall, yet she couldn’t finish until Hope told her she could leave.

She didn’t know where her mother had gone, since she’d last seen her, but Hope was getting on in years. She fell asleep in the middle of the day, in rooms they’d assigned to guests, if no one paid attention to her. It was possible she’d taken a nap upstairs.

If Venviel, Gale, or Art hadn’t been so unreliable, Hymn would have asked one of them to fetch Hope for her. Instead, she sought solace in chores she could perform alone. She took pride in her work, even if no one complimented her for it. She didn’t need constant attention like her twin.

Honestly, she almost resented Gale for her behaviour. What point did fame serve? Why would anyone risk drawing the ire of gods and thousands of mortals? Hadn’t Gale learnt enough about Lho Allanar and the goddess of love, through their mothers’ tales, that she realized it was best to never ask for anything except a regular life?

Hymn wished to inherit The Amiciers’ Rest, after Hope became too old to work, and settle down with a husband that respected her. She didn’t need anyone’s intervention. Since Venviel had told them tales about Orchid Brave, she’d decided to live a boring life. Adventure would get her killed, without a doubt, and in death she might encounter the gods in person. She didn’t want that.

Besides, she loved the tavern and the village she’d grown up in. She’d never visited Lho Allanar, city of love, despite how Venviel had offered to take her on more than one occasion. The hullabaloo her mothers had caused had mellowed over the recent decade, but she didn’t need to see Lho Allanar up close. She saw it from the window in her room every night she went to sleep. That was enough.

“Oh.” Hope appeared at the top of the stairs, in the shadows of the second floor, with Syvis’ latest book tucked under her arm. Her twin tails swished from side to side. “You’ve not left yet, Hymn? Thought you’d gone home with the others.”

“I—“

“You’ve worked hard again, haven’t you?” Hope yawned, strode down the stairs, and stretched her arms above her head when she arrived at the bottom. She wore an apron, just like Hymn, but hers looked cleaner. “I told you to take it easy. I’m not about to drop dead, even if Venviel won’t stop fretting because I’ve grown older, and she’s as agile as ever. How was I ever supposed to keep up with her, I ask you. I’m no elf. I’m a monster.”

“Demon,” Hymn corrected her mother out of habit.

“Humans and elves tend to prefer monsters over demons they don’t believe in.” Hope laid her book on a table and yanked the cleaning rag out of Hymn’s hand with a grin. “Go home, rest. If you don’t listen to me, I’m going to force you to stop working for a month or two.”

“But—“

“No, go home.” Hope shooed her toward the door. “I can handle it. You’re irreplaceable to this business, but that doesn’t mean I want my daughter to work herself to death.”

“I’m fine, mother. I can finish up.”

Hope fixated her with her hypnotizing cyan eyes. “Go home. Now.”

“That doesn’t work on us.” Hymn pulled the apron over her head, hung it on a hook by the entrance, and dusted crumbs off her brown dress. “But if you insist, mother, I will go and rest. I won’t stick around where I’m not—“

“You’re always wanted where I am.” Hope interrupted her, danced around the tables, and picked up where Hymn had left off.

She wouldn’t gain anything on arguing with her mother, so she opened the door to the tavern, stepped outside, and breathed in the fresh, salty air. To her right, she could see the eerie red glow of Lho Allanar on the horizon, and the path leading down to the beach. To her left, the wooden houses of Caelora were about to fall asleep alongside their inhabitants. The lights in windows would soon flicker out.

Hymn could go home, the fast way, or she could go down to the beach for a late night stroll and make her way home later. It sufficed as excitement for her, even if it didn’t for Gale. In fact, it was quite thrilling.

She turned toward Lho Allanar and followed the path along the sandy cliffs down to the beach, where she could live in the sound of the whispering waves. On stormy days, the ocean liked to talk her ears off. On calm, quiet nights like this, it sang a song to soothe her mind and carry her somewhere else. Somewhere she didn’t have to worry about gods.

She stepped out of her shoes when she reached the beach, stuck her green toes in the sand, and shivered. The sand was colder than she’d anticipated, but she did not put her shoes back on. She strolled along the ocean, listened to the waves, and let her tail sway freely in the wind. Gale wasn’t the only one who knew how to cherish the empty hours.

Hymn didn’t put her shoes back on until a huge silhouette became visible among the waves. At first, she dismissed it as another shark or whale, but the closer it drifted to her, the more it resembled a ship. Someone had blown holes in its hull, and the ship had lost its masts and sails. It couldn’t possibly be seaworthy judging by the state of it, yet it didn’t sink. It floated toward her.

If she didn’t hide, whoever might remain aboard the vessel would notice her if they hadn’t already. Luckily, there were plenty of shadows, boulders, and rocky outcroppings along the beach, but she didn’t want to hide like a ninny if this was an attack on Caelora either.

No smuggler or pirate would attack the village, since they were all welcomed, and several well-respected captains had sworn to defend Caelora when they’d been drunk out of their minds. Such promises may be flimsy, but few would test whether they held water or not in case they did anger a vicious pirate.

She retreated in the direction of the cliff path that lead up to her home, hid behind a boulder, and watched a crab flee across small dunes of sand while the ship without sails floated against the currents. Someone must row it, yet she couldn’t hear a single individual. And if someone had decided to row a ship of that size, they’d need an army.

Shipwrecked

Gale loved her twin, though she could be a bit stuck up, so after Venviel and Art had fallen asleep, she grabbed her mother’s rapier, snuck out of their home, and headed for the tavern to retrieve the mule. Hymn shouldn’t have to do all the work herself. Gale realized that too, but she couldn’t work until she passed out. And Hymn lacked the ability to stop.

Caelora lay still, peaceful. Only the ocean at the foot of the cliffs disrupted the calm with its promises of adventure. She watched the candles in the windows of her neighbours’ homes get blown out as the people went to bed in preparation for tomorrow.

When she arrived outside The Amiciers’ Rest, she saw Hymn walking down the path to the beach. She whistled, hollered, and waved at her twin, but either Hymn didn’t hear her, or she ignored her like usual. It had become impossible to tell which over the last months.

During her childhood, their entire family had slept in The Amiciers’ Rest, but the more wealth they’d accumulated, the more Venviel had pushed for them to get a second home. Hope hadn’t wanted anyone to get the idea that they thought they ruled the village though, so they’d not built their home larger than anyone else’s. They didn’t live in a mansion like those in Lho Allanar. They lived in a cosy house like everyone else in Caelora. Gale would have continued sharing a room with her twin, she’d even suggested it, but Hymn had protested loudly for weeks against the very idea.

She shrugged, followed her twin, and figured she’d catch up to her on the beach where she could give her a piece of her mind. She wished she’d brought her lute with her, if they were about to take a stroll along the beach. The ocean was fun and all, but it liked to tempt her with dreams of fame. She wanted to believe she’d get out of Caelora one day, see the world, and travel until her weary legs gave out from under her.

“Carry me away from here…” She sung and improvised another song. “Is there anywhere to disappear? I long to live like a buccaneer, so don’t tie me to the cruel puppeteer.”

Gale scrunched her nose up. The song sounded too bleh, too dreary, too unlike her. She wouldn’t claim to be a great writer of ballads, but she could entertain crowds with her solemn, deep voice and her lute. She found it ironic how her twin, which her mothers had named Hymn, didn’t appreciate music. Or at least Hymn didn’t appreciate it when she sang.

She sighed, hurried her steps, and found Hymn walking far ahead of her on the beach. She didn’t think she’d lost herself in her own singing and thoughts long enough to give Hymn such a head start, but she supposed she had.

At times, she kind of zoned out. She could get caught up in music or pranks like nobody’s business. She understood not everyone appreciated her sense of humour, but she needed to have a certain personality to become famous. If she didn’t behave like every other bard, how could she ever become half as renowned as them?

She supposed she could join a group of traveling freaks and put her horns on display for the world to see, but Hope would disown her if she did. The goddess of love herself might descend from the sky to teach her a stern lesson and transform her into an elf.

All of a sudden, Hymn fled from the ocean to hide somewhere under the cliffs. Gale quirked an eyebrow. She’d never thought she’d watch her twin flee from the ocean, which she seemed to treasure more than anything in the world except work, so she wasn’t sure how to react.

When she noticed the silhouette of a sunken ship, she assumed Hymn had mistaken it for an animal. She rolled her eyes, drew her mother’s rapier out of its scabbard, and decided to prove to Hymn that she didn’t have to fear everything outside of the tavern.

She strode over to the huge vessel while Hymn called out for her to stop. If someone had survived their ship sinking, wasn’t it their duty to assist them? How self-centered could her twin be?

Our Fine Friends

“What do you think it is?” Furore asked Fate, extended her purple legs out over the edge of the cliff, and rolled her cute toes.

The ship below them, which the twins of Hope and Venviel approached, had an aura to it that she found fascinating, off-putting, and intimidating all at once. She wouldn’t claim she feared the strange vessel without masts, since she was a goddess with millions of worshippers with nothing to fear from mortals, but it put her on edge.

Fate sniffed the air, blinked, and flapped her deer-like ears. “War.”

“Care to elaborate, dear?” Furore rested her head against Fate’s golden figure.

“Leftover after a long war between gods, somewhere.” Fate rolled her shoulders. “Everyone’s gone, in the carcass, except two of separate creeds.”

Furore gripped the jagged glass dagger which hung at her side. “Do you think they’ll bring war to Lho Allanar?”

“Too weak.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Furore smiled at how she had a mentor in the original goddess of destiny and luck. She’d never genuinely thought she’d get this far after she’d slain the goddess of love. “What is this ship to us?”

“An opportunity to introduce ourselves to old acquaintances.”

Of Wonders

While Iorvil couldn’t fault Thotrix’s servants when it came to their impressive indoctrination of Phoxene, she couldn’t kill the woman either. For one, she didn’t know where Phoxene had gone after she’d made the airship jump. She woke up in the captain’s cabin, unsure of how much time had passed, and made sure she still had the holy symbol around her neck. The necklace had gotten tousled in her hair, but she freed it.

She heard waves crash against the hull, and even though they should have sunk due to the damage the ship had taken in the battle, they remained afloat. It might be the work of Phoxene, if she retained enough magic to keep them from outright sinking, or if she’d boarded up the holes in the hull. Iorvil had no idea how long she’d lain unconscious. She did wonder why Phoxene hadn’t strangled her.

She rose to her feet, held her head as a throbbing headache assailed her temples, and looked around for the axe. It stuck out of the rubble of the furniture like a flag shoved into the mud and dirt of a former battlefield. She pulled it out of the remains of the captain’s bed, hefted it in her arms, and kept it at her side while she stumbled out of the cabin.

The bodies of her fallen brethren had disappeared along with the dead of Thotrix’s servants, likely claimed by the ocean. Water flowed across the deck outside the captain’s cabin and tried its best to wash the blood away too, but some stains were too ingrained in the wood to ever vanish.

She could hear whispering, around the corner, and prepared for another confrontation. Phoxene’s master may have ordered her to crash the ship far from the empire, but Iorvil couldn’t be sure she’d not brought them straight to their allies instead. If someone recognized her as a barbarian, a faithful of the god of time, she would have to fight.

She crept along the deck which had once housed a luxurious dining hall alongside its cannons, before they’d attacked, but now seemed to have lost most of its chairs and weaponry. They must have fallen out of the holes during the jump.

Thotrix’s servants should have hammered those to the deck like they’d hammered their precious silk carpets and long tables. The carpets may have been stained with the blood, but they’d survived. Every single one from what she could tell. Some of the tables had been split in half, probably after they’d crashed. Others had only sustained large cracks.

She caught movement by one of the holes in the hull to her right, stopped walking, and gripped her axe hard. It was the largest hole she’d seen in the hull so far, yet the creatures that appeared had to bend down to enter the ship through it.

They didn’t seem to detect her in the darkness, despite how she made no attempt to hide. There were only two of them, and while the creature with the curled horns carried a rapier, she was too distracted by the other to pose a threat.

These would not be allies of the empire. They looked too plain to fit in among Thotrix’s servants. At worst, they might be soldiers who would report they’d found the crashed ship to their superior officer, but they dressed more like regular working women. Commoners.

Iorvil lowered her axe, hid it behind her back, and considered alerting them to her presence before she spooked them. She couldn’t understand a word they whispered to each other, but if she cleared her throat, coughed, they would notice her.

They didn’t resemble humans with their tails and green bodies, yet she prayed they would extend a helping hand nonetheless. If Rhabour was on her side, he would not have brought her before hostile creatures. He would have found her a new beginning. These two might be good-natured spirits who would do everything in their power to provide her with what she sought. The end of one circle should mark the beginning of another.

Someone snapped their fingers next to her ear. “Allow me to bridge the language barrier, mortal. Do you have a name?”

Iorvil spun around, thought she saw a third creature grin in her face while they observed her with blood-red, burning irises, and bumped the axe into the wall. No one stood anywhere near her, but one of the creatures who’d entered through the hull yelped when she gave her presence away by accident.

The horned creature raised her rapier, pointed it at Iorvil, while she forced the other to step behind her. Iorvil could appreciate an act of bravery, even if she’d not meant to make them think she was their enemy.

“She’s huge.” The creature without horns whispered. “A giant.”

“If she doesn’t drop the axe, you should run away screaming, Hymn. That way, you’ll survive to warn the town, while I die a hero.” The creature with horns grinned. “I already wrote a ballad about my own heroics, should I pass away prematurely.”

“I won’t leave you, Gale,” Hymn whispered. “Don’t be silly.”

“I’d rather you left me than died unarmed,” Gale said. “You’re silly.”

Iorvil furrowed her brow. She’d not understood the pair a minute ago, but now they spoke clearly and loudly enough for her to hear. She must assume the third creature had been their god, and their god had helped her understand its worshippers. Quite strange, but she would take it as a beneficial sign. Rhabour would not want her to start a new war with another deity.

To show her gratitude for the gift of knowledge she’d been given, she held her axe out at her side, dropped it on the deck, and raised her hands above her head. Gale and Hymn recoiled at the sound of the axe hitting the deck. She didn’t like to disarm when she didn’t know where Phoxene hid, but it would be for the best in the long run if she could ally herself with these two.

“She’s surrendering?” Hymn asked.

“You bet it’s cause she’s never seen anyone like us before and she thinks we’re her gods?” Gale snorted. “Humans are so dense.“

“You shouldn’t—“

“I’m not surrendering,” Iorvil said and placed her foot on her axe. “I’m demonstrating I’m not hostile. Overlook my giant stature, as it is, and let me assure you I’m neither dense nor deaf.”

Gale stared in disbelief but lowered the rapier a tad. Hymn remained behind her. A moment passed where they watched each other, both sides waiting for the other to do something that would prove they were an enemy, but no one moved to attack.

Iorvil wondered if the pair was related to each other since, with the exception of Gale’s horns, they almost looked identical. If they’d been human, she would have believed them if they’d told her they were twins. Keepers viewed twins as one soul traversing time in different bodies. Thotrix’s servants captured them to test their inventions.

“Where are you from?” Hymn asked. “You don’t look like you come from these lands, yet we understand each other perfectly. How come?”

“I hail from the Voiceless Mountains.” Iorvil hadn’t seen their snow-covered peaks in years, but she’d grown up in the highlands on the northern edge of the empire. She doubted she’d return there, in her current lifetime, if there even was anything left to return to. The empire crushed everything. “Your—“

“Never heard of ‘em.” Gale stepped closer, as if to test her reaction. “Have you heard of Lho Allanar? Algora? Xenthien?”

“No, I…” She paused. Algora sounded familiar, as if someone had mentioned it once, but she couldn’t place it. “Haven’t heard of those countries in this life.” She looked at Hymn hiding behind Gale, smiled, and answered the woman’s other question. “I believe your god granted us mutual understanding. If you know of a suitable offering for such a gift, I’d like to make it in their honour.”

Hymn shuddered and turned around in a rush to leave the ship. Gale grabbed her by her arm to stop her.

Iorvil had never seen someone react so disrespectfully to their own god before. She didn’t like it. They might all be struck dead by lightning if they didn’t show the gods their appreciation. Although, maybe the third creature she’d seen had not been their god then. Maybe it had been something else.

“Do you not like your god?” She asked. “I saw another horned creature. She—“

“You shouldn’t mention our god. It’s bad luck.” Gale shrugged. “Even if you’ve never heard of these lands, I’m sure you’ve heard of the goddess of love? Right? Your people probably encountered her.”

“Possibly.” Iorvil hadn’t heard of a goddess of love. Her people had viewed such an emotion as an exploitable weakness, while they’d existed. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to be indebted to any other deity than Rhabour. “Can I thank her somehow?”

“You can, by keeping your mouth shut!” Hymn snapped. “Our goddess doesn’t want gratitude. She’ll upend your life because it amuses her. No matter what you do, it won’t be enough. Our existence is a joke to her. If you draw attention, we might all get caught in your misfortune.” She pulled her arm out of Gale’s grasp and turned toward the hole again. “I’m leaving. You talk to her, Gale. You’d at least suit each other, if worst came to pass.”

“Much bigger than I imagined.” Gale smirked, shook her head, and lowered her gaze to the deck with a playful expression. “More to explore.”

“This is why I don’t like you.” Hymn stopped in the middle of the hole. “You jest about serious matters, when you know what our mothers endured. If Furore had made another choice, somewhere, we would never have been born. Hope or Venviel would have died.”

Iorvil couldn’t keep up with the differences in their cultures. She’d heard about relationships between women, warriors or keepers who didn’t see their husbands for years, but what was that about mothers? They had two?

“I wish you did like me.”

“Sorry to intrude on this…” Iorvil didn’t know why they started arguing in front of her, but it might be best to distract them. “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d appreciate every bit of help you could offer. I swear on Rhabour I won’t harm anyone, but I’ve no idea where I am. My head hurts. I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in… Don’t know how long.”

“We’ll let you come with us to Caelora if you surrender your axe,” Hymn said.

“And any other weapon you might have hidden on your person.” Gale added.

Iorvil removed her foot from her axe and kicked it across the deck to them. “Done.”

“Anything else we should know about?” Gale asked and tried to lift the axe off the deck but failed to budge it. She slid her rapier back into its scabbard, tried with both hands, and groaned as she exerted strength on the weapon but failed again. “If there’s something you’re not telling us, gonna be a problem later.”

“There’s a…” She hesitated.

“Yes?” Hymn fixated her with a fierce look that reminded her she’d willingly disarmed. Gale might care about her height, but Hymn might as well not notice how she would tower over her if they stood closer together. She brought to mind Jerfell and his indomitable will.

“There was another woman on the ship, someone dangerous, but I don’t know where she’s gone. She’d left when I woke up.”

“Thank you for telling us.” Hymn nodded. “If you prevent her from harming our people, my mother is bound to welcome you into Caelora. She’s kind.”

“Hope’s got a true stay as long as you like attitude.” Gale gave up on trying to lift the axe, put her hands on her hips, and glanced at Iorvil. “You wouldn’t mind… you know…”

“I can carry my axe myself, but then I wouldn’t have disarmed, would I?”

“I think we can make an—“

“I guess not.” Hymn interrupted Gale. “I guess you best leave it on the beach.”

“I…” She would have argued, as she might lose the axe if she left it unattended, but she wouldn’t receive help if she did. “Fair.”

“Come on then,” Hymn said.

Iorvil moved toward the pair. At least she’d found a bed for a night with the potential promise of more if she convinced the leader of Caelora, Hope, to let her stay. Rhabour might indeed be smiling on her. She only needed to remember to not mention the goddess of love, since it was bad luck around these parts.

Phoxene roared above them. Water rushed off the deck, the ship lifted from the beach.

Iorvil had the foresight to wrap her legs around the nearest table and catch Hymn and Gale when they fell because the ship rolled without consideration for anyone. She realized she should have told them that the ship could fly, if that woman she’d mentioned was around, but she’d only woken up minutes ago.

The ship lurched.

She embraced the pair with her arms to prevent them from flying out of the holes in the hull and falling to their deaths. She imagined she’d have to beg them for forgiveness after what was about to happen.

For their sake, she hoped they’d not exchanged harsh words with their mothers when they’d last seen each other. Maybe she ought to toss them out of the hull and pray they survived the fall. She would have done it, if she’d believed someone would have caught them, but she could not kill innocents because she panicked. Rhabour would not forgive her.

“Amazing!” Gale laughed and watched her surroundings like she was the first mortal to discover fire. “How are you doing this?”

“Bad luck,” Hymn muttered, scratched at Iorvil’s thick arms with her nails, and made a brave attempt to free herself. She smelled of soap.

“Terrible, really.” Iorvil agreed. “Not death, however.”

Hymn stopped scratching her, scowled, and cried as if she’d known this particular day would always come. Yet only now could she accept how escape had never existed.

The ship jumped.

Pleasant Nightmare

The ship rose out of the ocean, freed itself of water like a captured wild animal freeing itself of its chains, and hung mid-air for a moment before it vanished in a massive, green bauble. Furore had seen a lot during her centuries as a goddess and succubus, but nothing compared to the magic on display tonight.

“You think I made a mistake?”

“Might’ve been slavers.” Fate yawned, summoned the glass ball in her lap, and ran her golden fingers across its smooth surface. “Cannibals.”

Furore was glad she wouldn’t have to explain this conundrum to Hope or Venviel. She didn’t have to answer their prayers, even if they would beg her to explain why their daughters had disappeared. It wasn’t her fault. Who knew ships could fly?

“Got your list?”

“Hmm…? Oh.” Furore pulled the top of the endless scroll of lovers, across the continent who worshipped her, out of the ether, dug a nail into the divine papyrus, and jotted down two new names in silver ink. She’d listened in on the conversation between the twins and the new arrival, so she had an idea for a suitable match.

“Who are the chosen ones?”

“My secret.” Furore grinned and waved the endless scroll away.

“They’ll be thrilled.”

Contusion

What would happen to her now? Gale might cherish the opportunity to go on an adventure, but she’d never wanted fame or fortune. She’d wanted the tavern she’d grown up in, where she’d learnt about the world and responsibility by meeting strangers from far and wide. Why would she ever need to seek adventure when adventurers came to visit her?

The giant who’d distracted them long enough for the ship to do whatever it did, and caught her when she’d fallen, kept both her and her twin safe in her broad, scarred arms while the wind tore at their clothes. But Hymn didn’t like it. The giant made her feel small and insignificant, like she’d die if she slipped out of her embrace, and the only thing between her and a premature death was this total stranger.

She reeked of blood and seawater. Hymn didn’t know how long the ship had floated by itself, but she suspected the giant would lie to them if she asked. She smelled far too much like the vessel to not have spent weeks or months at sea. She’d known about the howling beast too, for sure, yet she’d not warned them. Instead, she’d mentioned some dangerous woman, but no human or elf could create such a bestial howl.

When the ship ceased its rolling, they found themselves suspended upside down. The deck had switched place with the ceiling, yet the tables didn’t fall crashing down.

“What now?” Gale asked with an exuberant, wide grin on her face. “You drop us down?”

“I’m sure Phoxene will right the ship, if we give her time.” The giant groaned and helped them under the table where they could sit until the ship righted itself. “I’m Iorvil, by the way. I…”

“Nice to meet you.” Gale poked her finger into Hymn’s upper arm. “How you holding up, sis?”

“I wish to disembark and return home.” She glared at Iorvil while she spoke. “I trust that can be arranged.”

“Ah…” Iorvil made an attempt to crawl under the table with them, stared into the underside of the table top, and shook her head subtly. “I’ll persuade Phoxene, but it might require violence.”

Hymn kept glaring at their captor. Iorvil wore leather armour strengthened with metal, a gorgeous medallion in the shape of a half-moon around her neck, and three azure feathers in the blonde braid next to her face. She might have been as attractive as any other rugged pirate, if it wasn’t for the fact that someone had scarred half of her countenance. It looked like they’d taken a knife to her skin and carved it up, so the hideous scar would bear a resemblance to lightning erupting along her eye, nose, and mouth.

Iorvil brought to mind a weary traveller, who’d accepted they’d never find rest until their death, and drifted along the roads others built. She’d met people like that before in Caelora. They weren’t worth the trouble.

Gale sneaked glances at their captor, blushed, as if she found her attractive and scary at the same time. Good. If Gale fell in love with Iorvil, Hymn didn’t have to fear for her own future. If it got the goddess of love off her back, she would give her twin to this intruder in their lives.

She did not want to be caught up in Furore’s machinations. Not ever. Not after what Venviel and Hope had told her about their experiences with love. Her mothers loved to embellish the story of how they’d met, add tiny little details as decorations to spruce the truth up, but it’d always unsettled her. Furore was the monster, not Hope. Hymn would sooner worship another deity entirely than bow to love’s insanity.

Slowly, the ship rolled around. Iorvil gestured for them to stay put under the table, kept her blue eyes focused on her, and grabbed the half-moon around her neck. The medallion shifted into an even thinner moon. If they’d met in the tavern, Hymn might have asked her about it.

“This happens a lot where you’re from?” Gale asked while she tried to steady herself with her arms and legs pressed between the table and the deck.

“Not where I’m from, no.” Iorvil sighed. “It does in the empire, I’m certain, but I haven’t flown in their airships before in my life. They’re reserved for their leadership and wealthy. Those who can afford them. Those who need to be transported near battlefields.”

“Wow… That’s—“

“Were you a warrior?” Hymn asked.

Iorvil met her eyes with a surprising politeness, as if she actually worried she’d upset her. She expected a quick answer but ended up lingering in the giant’s gaze.

“What? The heavy axe didn’t give it away?” Gale snorted. “You think she’s a baker, Hymn?”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“You do.”

She swatted her twin’s shoulder. “I don’t. Stop it.”

“I’m a faithful of Rhabour, god of time.” Iorvil smiled. “I wouldn’t have been a warrior if my people hadn’t been forced to fight for our survival. Might have been a baker then, who knows. Another lifetime.”

The ship righted itself. Hymn crawled out from under the table along with her twin and rose to her feet. When she stood next to Iorvil, her head was at chest height of the giant, and she had to lift her head to look her in the eye.

Iorvil offered her hand. Hymn shook it, but she doubted that’s what the giant had expected her to do since she received a quizzical expression in return.

“We’ve never heard of the god of time,” Gale said, pushed her aside, and placed herself in front of Iorvil. “You should tell us everything about him.”

“After I’ve cornered Phoxene.”

“Can’t wait, Iorvil.”

Hymn rolled her eyes. She’d already surrendered whatever claim Furore might have made on her behalf on the giant. Gale didn’t have to turn it into a competition. Whenever the chance presented itself, Hymn would return home.

Trust

Iorvil pulled her axe out of the hull where it’d gotten stuck, slung it over her shoulder, and waved for them to follow her up a staircase. Gale had tried damn hard to lift that axe, yet it hadn’t budged. She couldn’t deny that she found herself somewhat awestruck by their new friend. How strong was she? Could she lift a horse?

“She’s all yours,” Hymn whispered and stuck her tongue out.

“All mine…?”

“If you wish, I can help you with the lovey-dovey romance stuff too.” Hymn mocked her. “I know you.”

Gale stopped in the middle of the staircase while Iorvil and Hymn continued up until they arrived at the door to the next deck. Her tail thumped the narrow walls. She’d not thought she’d made her thoughts so obvious to her twin, and now that she had, she didn’t know how to feel about Hymn’s reaction.

Maybe she would appreciate help, but she wouldn’t marry the first woman that fell in front of her. If she’d been such a loose lady, she would already have gotten married to one of her many suitors who’d professed eternal love after they’d listened to her sing and play the lute in Caelora.

Besides, Iorvil might think of her as droll. She might not appreciate her at all. How could Hymn just assume the human didn’t find them ugly? They looked nothing alike. The standards for beauty were bound to be completely weird wherever Iorvil hailed from. In her empire, they might hate anyone with horns. They might have banned music altogether.

“Stay behind me,” Iorvil said after she’d forced the door open and Hymn made an attempt to slip outside. She held her arm in front of her. “The empire kidnapped Phoxene, and others of my brethren, when they were young. She would have been a keeper of time, if they’d not messed with her mind. Now she’s… dangerous.”

“We can stay inside until you call for us.” Hymn suggested, straightened her back, and seemed to stand on her toes to appear taller. “My twin and I may not be warriors ourselves, but our mother taught us how to fight with swords.”

Iorvil nodded, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. Hymn waited a bit before she opened the door again and peered out through a crack that let light into the staircase.

Gale wasn’t blind. She could see what was going on, even if Hymn couldn’t. She hummed the intro to a famous ballad about star struck lovers, walked up the stairs, and leaned her back against the wall next to her sister.

“Iorvil’s our best hope for survival, for getting home, but we can’t become reliant on her,” Hymn said.

Gale cleared her throat, coughed twice to make her twin listen to her, and hummed louder. “A tavern girl, once defiant.” The original lyrics to the ballad didn’t fit the situation, but she knew how to improvise well enough to irk Hymn. “Now warns her sister about the beautiful giant.”

Hymn crossed her arms, faced her with a scowl. “You’re so annoying. My life doesn’t need its personal jester.”

“She fears we’ll become reliant on the giant, but before you know it, dear listener, she’ll be seduced and pliant…” Gale bowed with a flourish.

Hymn grabbed her by the tip of her ear before she could finish bowing and twisted it hard until Gale begged for mercy, yet even then, she didn’t release her iron hold on her poor, damaged ear. “If you bring the bad luck of you know who down on me, in this mess, which you caused, I’ll never speak to you again. Do you understand?”

“I do, I do.” Gale whimpered. “I love you.”

Hymn released her ear when she reminded them of their unique bond. “I love you too, but you’re…”

“I can handle the truth.”

“Cloud-headed.”

“Honestly, I expected worse after you tried to wrench my ear off.” Gale laughed and caressed the tip of her ear. “But you’re correct, I’m so cloud-headed.”

“I’m sorry.” Hymn turned her back on her to peek out of the door. “No one riles me up like you do. I don’t like your songs when they’re about me.”

“How could I become famous if my songs didn’t feature you?” She glanced up at her horns, ran her fingers along them, and briefly entertained the idea to join a band of travelling freaks once more. “Who would I even be without you, Hymn? I wish you could understand my dream.”

“I wish we could be normal.”

She supposed she should take that as a hint, a refusal to listen to her perspective, but they were on an adventure whether Hymn planned to admit that or not. They might be brought back home within the next hour, yet this was the most excitement either of them had had since Sally the Skull had threatened to blow up his own first mate.

“I feel this…” She lowered her voice into a mere whisper. Hymn could listen if she wanted to. She wouldn’t strive to annoy her twin again, not for a while at least. “This calling deep inside, from something great. Something who promises me the world. I can’t explain it.”

“You should be able to,” Hymn whispered back. “No one will listen to a singer who can’t put words on their feelings.”

Gale suppressed a sigh and chuckled. “You’re right. Good point.”

“You could become famous without leaving Caelora. In time. I believe in you.”

“Yeah…” She didn’t think her twin was wrong, necessarily, as the names of the best craftsmen in the world often spread from country to country. But she’d spent her entire life in Caelora, over twenty years, and she’d not gotten closer to her goal.

Gale stretched her hand out and stroked her twin’s back. No matter the cost, she’d see Hymn safe back home. She wasn’t sure if she’d want to return or not herself, so soon, but she didn’t have to tell anyone that.

Hope would forgive her, Venviel had practically encouraged rebellion with stories of Orchid Brave. She was on her first adventure, and for all she cared, it could last forever.

Unleashed

A hawk released a piercing scream. The airship soared across the green highlands and ravines of a familiar landscape. Mountains surrounded them on every side, and even though Iorvil couldn’t see their peaks through the clouds, she was overcome by homesickness.

Phoxene tore her heart out with vistas she’d never thought she’d lay eyes on again. Why had the indoctrinated woman brought them somewhere that resembled their original home so much? Didn’t she think of the empire as her home?

Iorvil strode across the oblong deck toward the stern while the large ring that kept the airship floating spun around its middle and brimmed with energy. Phoxene had to be awake, in a sound state of mind, if she’d regained control of the vessel.

She’d watched enough airships crash, with faithful warriors aboard, that she could tell when they worked and when they didn’t. She preferred it when they crashed without her people.

Phoxene stood in the stern, with her back against the railing surrounding the deck, and moved her arms in specific patterns to control the ring around the airship. Iorvil waved at her to prepare her for a chat or confrontation. They both knew she wouldn’t use her axe unless they’d landed. It might provide them with the neutral ground they required to reach an understanding.

“Sister!” Iorvil called out to Phoxene and held her axe at her side. “Why have you brought us here? I thought you obeyed the will of Thotrix!”

Phoxene lowered her arms, pulled the sleeves of her gown up, and bared the machines they’d exchanged for her flesh. Cogs clicked against each other, chugged, and through their brass design, Iorvil swore she could see the whites of bone.

“We were brethren once!” She feared she’d achieve the same result if she appealed to their shared ancestry again, but what else could she do? If Phoxene had believed in Rhabour in any of her lifetimes, she would heed his call. “Thotrix’s servants stole you, and hundreds like you, away from us. Rhabour has given you a new beginning. Don’t squander such a precious gift.”

“I’m done with the gods!” Phoxene shouted, indignantly, and held her bare arms up in the dim light. “You see what they did to me! How do I know your god will not do worse? I watched you decapitate a man.”

“You—“

“He treated me like a dog, a mindless object, but he was capable of great kindness too. He had a family.” Phoxene trembled. The bow of the ship descended before she refocused and pulled it up. “How do I know you won’t cut my head off next? If you’re my sister, I’d sooner toss you off this deck and take my chances alone. I own this airship now. He listens to me. You don’t even know his name.”

“The Gustfin!” She’d seen it written along the hull of the stern when she’d boarded the airship with Jerfell and the faithful. “That’s the name of your ship, and I don’t plan to steal him from you. I only wish to bring the stowaways home again, then we can part ways. I have a mission. I must find a new beginning for our people, but I understand if you do not wish to join my cause. We’ve never known each other. Perhaps you’ve not kept a single memory from your old life.”

Phoxene lowered her arms, so her sleeves fell over the machines. “Stowaways?”

“Indeed. A bickering pair.” Iorvil nodded and considered disarming for the hundredth time since she’d woken up. Phoxene may not feel threatened if she didn’t have her axe. “They came aboard wherever we were a moment ago. If you’d return them to their home, I could depart along with them.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Phoxene frowned.

“Why?”

“I’ve no idea where we crashed, so I possess neither the knowledge nor the energy to bring your friends there.” Phoxene stepped away from the railing, stumbled, and fell back against it with a grunt. “I’m weak after these massive leaps. Haven’t eaten in days, slept fitfully.”

Iorvil had feared this outcome the moment the ship had jumped, but she’d hoped for the best nonetheless. She hung the axe on the thick belt around her waist and approached Phoxene cautiously. The mage may still decide to fling her off the deck of the Gustfin. It wouldn’t be hard for her when she could make the vessel roll.

“Don’t, sister.” Phoxene stretched her arms, pushed the Gustfin to pick up its speed out of nowhere, and forced Iorvil to brace lest she trip and fall. “You won’t catch me off-guard, but if you try, if you make a sudden movement, I’ll risk tossing us both to our deaths. Doubt I’ve long left.”

Iorvil stopped a few meters from her. “If we work together, we’ll survive longer. I need your help to bring the stowaways home, and you need me if you want to eat. I know how to hunt and cook. Land the ship, I’ll prepare a meal for us while you rest.”

“I’ll…” Phoxene paused, ran a hand through her wild, red hair as it fluttered in the wind, and weighed her words. “I’ll consider it. I can land the ship, fine, but I can’t get your friends home without knowing the destination. I didn’t leave my airship.”

“Is there a way for you to learn where we were? If they describe it—“

Phoxene shook her head. “It won’t make a difference. I can’t go off their descriptions. The world is huge, they’ll merely confuse me. We might end up further and further away from their origin with each leap, making it unlikely they’ll get home this year.”

“I’ll tell the pair.” Iorvil sighed, touched the holy symbol around her neck, and caressed its full moon with her thumb. “May Rhabour watch over them.”

“You do that.” Phoxene scowled while she watched her ask for guidance.

Did she truly believe she could be done with the gods without them taking offense?

Truce

Fate had told her to seek Rhabour in the moon, and she’d almost assumed it was a riddle until she’d gone to the moon in search of the god of time. Best place to start, right, even if Fate could be cryptic.

Furore strode across the dead, barren surface, stared at the planet Lho Allanar wasn’t even a dot on, and questioned whether Fate would hear her if she shouted her name, or if gods had limits too. Against the void of space, the greens and blues of the planet stood out in great contrast, but what stood out even more was the oasis.

It didn’t exist in a desert, it couldn’t be a mirage. No, it lingered on the horizon between the black void and the grey moon, as if someone had splashed a single dot of vibrant pink right there.

She found Rhabour in the midst of the oasis. He rested on a log overgrown by moss, on grass, in a forest that couldn’t survive without him while thousands of pink butterflies hovered around his form.

She’d thought all gods favoured humanoid bodies, whenever they picked their true form, yet Rhabour could only be described as a furred, pale gryphon with an endless tail, the face of a dragon, and tusks growing out of his mouth. He seemed weakened, near death, and watched her with clear distrust.

“Greetings, I am—“

“I know who you are.” Rhabour exposed his long, sharp teeth when he spoke. “I remember everything.”

“Right, so, skipping the pleasantries.” Furore summoned a throne out of the rocks of the moon, took a seat, and crossed her legs. “I have a proposition for you, Rhabour, if you’re willing to listen.”

He rested his head on the log, kicked at the butterflies with one of his hind legs. “I can only listen. I couldn’t visit my own champion again unless she inspired thousands to follow her, and it appears she fails to gain others’ trust.”

The god of time’s pitiful act appalled her. If she lost Lho Allanar, and the elves that worshipped her, she might meet a similar end. She hated the idea that she would die like him. So pathetic. Ew.

“I’d like to help you regain your strength.”

“Why?”

“My…” She’d come with a proposition for him, on Fate’s behalf, while the other goddess sought out Thotrix, but seeing him in this state made her reconsider. “I just do. We’re the same you and I, and I’d hate to lose you. What would mortals be without time?”

Rhabour coughed, heaved, and laughed. “Time won’t disappear with me. Love won’t disappear with you. We’ll be replaced, always, as long as there is a need for someone to fill our slots.”

“Would you meet with Thotrix to put an end to your war, if Fate and I was there to protect you?”

“Fate is not to be trusted, Fiona.”

“Fiona…?”

He observed her. “Ah, never mind. I mistook you for someone else. Thotrix will kill me if we meet. Progress thinks it can speed up the slow crawl of years and decades.”

“Let’s pretend I had a new beginning for your puppet.” Furore steepled her fingers. “Would you do it then?”

“What do you gain on helping me?”

“I, obviously, hope you’ll at the very least owe me a favour or ten.”

Rhabour scoffed. “I see, demon. In that case, I suggest you prove you can provide more than empty promises. Fading into oblivion doesn’t scare me.”

Dependence

Iorvil had no idea how to break it to the twins that they couldn’t return home. She should have asked Rhabour to guide her tongue, and give her the gift of wisdom, but she doubted it would have helped. She didn’t wish to waste her god’s resources either. If she wanted to earn the right to be his champion, she had to show she could accomplish the tasks set before her on her own.

“So, how’d it go?” Gale grinned at her with her entire face when Iorvil opened the door to the staircase leading down to the lower decks.

“We didn’t hear you call for help, and…” Hymn looked at her axe. “It seems you didn’t shed blood. Did you find her?”

“I did.”

“She can’t bring us home, can she? We’re going to have to fly with you for a few weeks yet, aren’t we?” Gale seemed strangely eager for disappointment. “What a genuine shame. My heart’s sunk.”

“Don’t jinx me.” Hymn swatted her twin’s shoulder, and glared at Gale, before smiling politely at Iorvil. “How soon can you undo this mistake? You seem capable, enough, even if she refused to cooperate. How difficult can it be to fly this ship ourselves?”

“It requires a magical attunement, and these machines drilled into your arms.” Iorvil gripped her own forearm to indicate where Thotrix’s servants placed their shackles on her brethren. “Unless either of you have been trained in the arcane, I’m afraid I don’t know how to get you home. Phoxene has agreed to work with me, us, but she’s too weak to make the ship jump again. And she doesn’t know where—”

“If she’s too weak, she shouldn’t be flying, should she?” Hymn pushed past her, stepped out onto the deck, and held her dress down along her sides when the wind tore at it. The mountains behind her made the woman seem so confident, noble, like the world best bend to her will or else. “Where is she? I wish to have a word with her myself.”

Iorvil pointed at the stern where Phoxene stood leaned against the railing. Due to the distance between them, she appeared thin. “Take care not to anger her. Even if she can’t bring you home, she can toss you off the ship. Remember, it rolled. You don’t want to be out here if it does that again.”

Hymn huffed, her lips quivered. “I need to go home. She will bring me there.”

“She can’t. It’s not…” Iorvil trailed off when Hymn stomped away. “Not a possibility.”

“See, my twin, she can be a bit stubborn,” Gale said. “But she’s a good person, trust me. She won’t do something stupid. She’s much smarter than me, it’s crazy.”

“Why aren’t you upset?” Iorvil asked. “Don’t you want to go home again?”

“Riding the excitement!” Gale stepped out onto the deck, squealed as she took in the sights around them, and bounced on her feet. “This is freaking amazing!”

Iorvil decided then and there that she best keep an eye on Gale. Hymn would manage on her own, but her twin had too much energy for it to be contained. Gale might alert Thotrix and their armies to their presence simply because she couldn’t stay quiet during crucial moments.

“Would you mind going back inside with me?” Iorvil held the door open.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Gale bolted down the deck toward the bow, stopped in her tracks, and cowered when another hawk screeched.

Iorvil would have her hands full if she had to look after the twins until she could bring them home. Somehow, it had to be possible, even if Phoxene couldn’t be of assistance. She may have to escort them across a continent, but she would do it.

Such a journey would give her an opportunity to search for a new beginning in new places. Hopefully the goddess of love would appreciate the assistance with her worshippers. Iorvil would never fall in love herself, as it would only serve to give her enemies an obvious weakness to exploit, but she might take a husband. She wouldn’t have to love him, but she would need to provide Rhabour with children, if she couldn’t inspire others to join her faith. Her mother and father had loved each other, and it hadn’t ended well for them. They’d died side by side in battle.

Gale climbed the railing in the bow of the ship, stretched her arms out along her sides, and sang her lungs out in a high-pitched tune. Hymn glanced over her shoulder at her twin, shrugged, and stomped her foot on the deck to make Phoxene listen.

Iorvil prayed the bad luck they’d mentioned regarding their goddess couldn’t spread to others. She didn’t want to end up in the middle of the twins, not in a way that might encourage their bickering to erupt into full blown war. They’d look better married, with flowers in their hair, than dead or injured.

Cold Day

In spite of her best attempt, and how long she tried, Hymn didn’t succeed in convincing Phoxene that she must bring them home immediately. It reached a point where Phoxene began to pretend she couldn’t understand her, since they hailed from different cultures, but Hymn wasn’t an idiot. She knew Phoxene could understand her well, thanks to the intervention of the gods.

By the end, when she decided to give up for the day, she was so tired of Phoxene that she didn’t wish to see her expressionless face ever again. When the ship landed on a field in the middle of the highlands, Hymn retreated below deck. Iorvil mentioned something about how she would set out to hunt, and Gale offered to come with her, but Hymn needed to rest.

She found a bed, on the lowest deck, and strapped in to sleep for a while with the leather straps attached to the bunk. If Phoxene got the idea to spin them all around again, she’d at least remain strapped to the bed. She assumed that was what the leather straps were for in the first place.

She slept well and didn’t awaken again until after Iorvil had returned, at which point Gale loudly announced it to everyone. Then she headed up to the dining hall to help prepare their meal. Who knew if Iorvil had the slightest clue how to prepare meat without it tasting bland? Even if Hymn didn’t know a lot about how to hunt, she’d learnt how to cook when she’d been a child. Hope had taught her her tricks over the years.

“Where is Iorvil?” Hymn asked Gale and Phoxene when she found them sitting around the only intact table in the dining hall. They jumped in their seats at the sound of her voice, as if she’d taken them by surprise. What a fine pair they made.

“In the kitchen.” Gale yawned, scratched her neck. “Said I’d help, but she pushed me outside.”

“What do you know about cooking?” Hymn scoffed, left them where they sat, and stopped in her tracks when realized she didn’t know where she had to go to find the kitchen. “Where is it?”

“The door on the right, near the stern.” Gale smirked. “It’s the end of the ship, not the front.”

“Thank you, Gale. Your insight is worth its weight in gold.”

She stalked across the deck, threw the door to the kitchen open, and saw Iorvil skinning a couple of rabbits in the middle of what resembled a battlefield. She doubted the stains of blood splattered on the shelves and walls all originated from rabbits. The utensils and plates in the kitchen must have gotten tossed around while the ship had spun, because most of them lay strewn across the deck.

“What?” Iorvil asked, dried her face on her broad upper arm, and put a long, sharp knife down on the counter. The giant had removed her leather armour. She wore a thin shirt with enough tears in it to make Hymn regret how she didn’t have clothes to offer her.

“Hymn, I—“

“I know how to cook,” Hymn said and shut the door to the kitchen before Iorvil could force her out like she’d done with her twin. “I worked in a tavern. I cooked every day. If you’d like to rest, I can be our cook until you bring us home.”

“I see.” Iorvil pursed her lips. “I used to cook for my friends, those who lost their lives on this ship. They ate what I made them, never complained, but if you want to take over because my cooking isn’t up to snuff, I suppose I must let you.”

“Y-you don’t…” Hymn leaned against the door. “I thought that you didn’t know how to…”

“Cook? You took one look at me, Hymn, and filled in the blanks.” Iorvil shook her head. “I’ve been nice, so far, but I suggest you don’t push me too far in the wrong direction. Who knows when the barbarian will decide to eat you if you do? Or has the idea that me and my sister might be cannibals not occurred to you yet?”

“Not it at all!” She raised her voice and received a tired stare in turn. “You’ve worked hard today, and I’ve slept. I wouldn’t think it fair if I didn’t offer to carry some of your load for you. I’d like to alleviate this burden you’ve shouldered. You can eat me afterwards if my cooking disappoints.”

Iorvil quirked an eyebrow, smiled at her through weirdly familiar blue eyes. “I can?”

An unwarranted heat came to her cheeks, and she realized she should flee and never talk to anyone else on the ship again other than her twin if she wanted to stay safe from Furore’s influence.

Iorvil nodded at the counter next to her where there was enough space for Hymn to prepare their meals, if she planned to do so. “We can teach each other. If you don’t mind learning from a barbarian, I believe Rhabour would want me to teach you everything I know and more. I’ve got time. It’s all I’ve got.”

Hymn gripped the handle to the door, her heart pounded in her chest like she’d been cornered by a bear. “W-will you keep your hands to yourself?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Are you afraid I’d smear rabbit blood over your cute dress?” Iorvil laughed a laughter that made her think of better days spent in the company of friends in The Amiciers’ Rest. “I won’t. Don’t fear, Hymn. Rhabour would sooner give both his own and my life than claim the life of an innocent such as yourself.”

She believed Iorvil when she told her she didn’t have to fear her. Many pirates and smugglers had told her the same, but she’d not believed them for a second. She’d fully expected them to get handsy if she didn’t keep a knife on her person.

“What’s Rhabour like?” She asked, stepped over broken plates on the kitchen deck, and searched for the utensils she’d need to assist Iorvil. She grabbed a knife that seemed sharp, undamaged. “Bad luck for me to talk about you know who, but I’ve never heard of this Rhabour before. Would you mind telling me about him?”

“It would be my pleasure, Hymn.” Iorvil moved one of the rabbits over to her. “Rhabour is the god of time, the first god my brethren encountered, and the one who promised to protect us against the onslaught of the years. We may have been numerous once, but we never did great for ourselves. It always seemed we’d diminish to nothing if we couldn’t survive another harsh winter, another failed harvest, or another attack by bandits.”

“But he kept you safe?” Hymn checked the rabbit by poking her finger into it, searched the shelves for some kind of spice, and discovered pepper in a bag on the floor.

“He did. At least up until the empire found us. Thotrix’s servants enslaved many of my people who would have become keepers, people like Phoxene, and weakened us.”

“Sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much, but you have my sympathy.” Hymn cut the rabbit into smaller pieces. “I wouldn’t hate following this Rhabour. He sounds like a vast improvement over my own, well my mothers’, deity. He sounds like he cares a great deal for your people.”

“He did.” Iorvil sighed. “He still does, but I need to find a new beginning, or my people will perish.”

“What’s a new beginning? How do you know you’ve found one?”

Iorvil looked at her in silence, for a moment, while they worked. “It’s an opening in the circles of time where the seed of the new is most likely to grow and flourish. For example, meeting someone sweet who’s open to following your beliefs if you teach them.”

Hymn took a step away from her. “How nice.”

Win or Lose

Hymn may have slept, but Gale hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep since they’d stepped aboard the Gustfin. She’d been wide awake the entire time. She didn’t think she could fall asleep, even if she tried. If she’d not known that it was an involuntary reaction to exhaustion, she would have claimed she’d forgotten how to sleep altogether.

Phoxene sat at the end of the dining table, with her arms on top, and stared at the opposite wall, yet Gale caught her glancing at her horns again and again. They’d not spoken much to each other. Gale had sat down next to her, after Iorvil had forced her out of the kitchen, and greeted Phoxene, but then they’d fallen into a peculiar silence.

She swore she heard a clicking coming from underneath Phoxene’s gown. She slid her hand across the table top, sneakily, toward Phoxene’s arm, stopped whenever the woman glanced at her horns, and pushed the fabric aside with her thumb. If Phoxene hadn’t laid her hand on top of Gale’s, she would have uncovered what caused the clicking.

They looked at each other. Gale didn’t have an explanation for what she’d done in her sleep-addled state, and Phoxene didn’t ask her to apologize or explain either. Gale noticed how the colour of Phoxene’s eyes seemed to shift from grey to green whenever they moved. They were very pretty in their own right.

Phoxene leaned away without getting up from her seat when Gale tried to get a closer look at her irises. The woman reminded her of a horse. She didn’t fear Gale, but she didn’t try to become closer acquainted with her either. She kept staring at the wall while the clicking went on and on.

“Click, click goes this fine, elegant chick,” Gale sung quietly, yet managed to make Phoxene turn toward her nonetheless. “Oh, what a kick. I’d be a lunatic to not watch the end of the wick with her on my stick.”

Phoxene smacked her lips, stared at her horns without hiding it. “You have a stick too?”

“No, but if I’d been a man, it would have been a terrific rhyme.” Gale chuckled and pushed at the fabric covering Phoxene’s arm again, but was forced to stop when she grabbed her hand.

“What are you?” Phoxene squeezed her fingers a little too hard. “Some kind of half-goat, half-elf?”

“Half-demon, actually.” Gale shrugged, yawned. “It’s a long story. Anyway, what’s making that noise? The clicking?”

“I could tell you,” Phoxene whispered, brought her face closer, and gritted her teeth. “But then you wouldn’t think of me as fine or elegant. You’d think of me as hideous, disgusting, and I don’t need a singer singing songs of what Thotrix did to me. It’s my secret.”

“I could tell you a secret of mine in turn.”

“What?”

“I find you intensely intimidating and attractive this close.”

She could have sworn she saw a smile creep across Phoxene’s lips, but then the woman murdered it before it could blossom. Gale smelled ash and soot on her breath. At least she’d found the source of the heat in the room.

“Funny.” Phoxene let go of her fingers.

When she leaned back in her seat and resumed staring at the wall, Gale wondered if she’d just told her what she’d told her, or if she’d imagined it. Phoxene pretended nothing had happened quick enough to make Gale question reality. She probably wouldn’t have dared tell someone like Phoxene that she found her attractive, if she’d gotten enough sleep.

“Are you angry?”

“Not yet.” Phoxene placed her elbow on the table, rested her chin in her palm, and observed Gale. “But you best clarify what you intend to accomplish here. I bite.”

“I…” Gale should have ploughed ahead while she’d not paid attention to her own behaviour, because now self-doubt got hold of her heart. She pushed her chair out and stood to leave, but Phoxene grabbed her by her arm.

“Could I request another song?” Phoxene flashed a wolf-like grin. “Whatever is popular in your neck of the woods, it could give me an idea for how to get you home. Songs and tales travel faster than people.”

“I didn’t think you liked music,” Gale said, sat, and stayed put. “You don’t happen to have a lute on this ship, do you? I could play you every song in my repertoire with one. Not as easy without an instrument.”

“You could search the ship, but I wouldn’t know if its previous owners brought items like that with them. They didn’t care to invite me when they entertained each other.”

“That’s a pity. I do—“

“To them, I was the machine that kept their precious vessel in the air. A doll to play with. I’d hate for anyone to make that mistake again. I might lose my mind.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Gale laughed, begun to hum, and did her best to recall what ballad was most popular among those she’d sung at The Amiciers’ Rest.

She’d often sung the same five songs about love, loss, pirates, adventure, wenches, and riches every night, but which was the most popular among those? She settled for the one that might appeal to Phoxene. An upbeat ditty about a race between two captains that hated each other.

“Once, a conniving bastard of a man.” Gale resisted the urge to strum the lute she didn’t have with her. “Challenged this rat to a fight…”

Phoxene listened attentively and hummed along once she caught onto how the notes fell in Gale’s rhythm. She’d not encountered anyone with such impressive recollection before, and for a moment, she worried Phoxene might really have recognized the ditty.

“You know it?”

“No,” Phoxene said. “I’ve never heard it in my life, yet it sounds very familiar when you sing it. If I believed in Rhabour, I’d claim I’d heard you before. Not the song.”

“That’s because I become incredibly famous in the future.” Gale winked.

“Oh, you will, will you?” Phoxene twirled a lock of her red hair between her fingers, and while she didn’t smile, or show a lot of emotion, she chewed on her lip. “Should I make the effort to get on your good side before you’re too busy with everyone else clamouring for your attention then?”

“Absolutely.”

Gustfin

Iorvil would not soon forget how Hymn had listened to her talk about Rhabour while they’d prepared dinner, and even though they hadn’t found whole plates for everyone, no one complained about sharing.

Hymn had offered to share with Gale, but it soon became apparent that Gale would rather share with Phoxene. They’d become very friendly in no time at all. Iorvil didn’t know if she trusted the mage yet or not, but when she sat in the light of a lantern with Gale, she seemed harmless. She wasn’t screaming while carrying out orders in Thotrix’s name.

“Tastes wonderful,” Hymn whispered, grabbed another piece of rabbit from the plate in between them, and ate. “I apologize for implying you couldn’t cook, Iorvil. You cook better than a certain someone I know.”

“Thank you.” Iorvil smiled and watched Phoxene and Gale whisper to each other at the other end of the table much like they did. “You didn’t exactly imply it though. You said you were—“

“You’re right. I apologize for my crass behaviour.”

“Didn’t mean to make you apologize twice, Hymn.” Iorvil bit into the meat, savoured its strong flavour on her tongue, and regretted how they didn’t have potatoes or vegetables. She would have to raid the storage tomorrow and inspect what Thotrix’s servants had brought with them. In hindsight, she should have done that before she’d set out to hunt, but at least the hunt had been a success. “Your contribution made this a great meal.”

“Wouldn’t the previous owners of this ship have packed supplies? Do they not do that in the empire?” Hymn asked. “If we cook together again, I can show you how to prepare some of the meals my mothers’ tavern is renowned for.”

“They do. It didn’t occur to me earlier. I’ve been caught up in everything, and I guess I wanted to get outside, on the ground, after this long in the air. My people don’t belong in the sky. We’d sooner hunt every day than live in excessive luxury. Cherish time by doing what we love.”

“We can raid the hold together,” Hymn said, bumped her shoulder into Iorvil’s arm when she reached for more meat, and faced her with a mischievous glint in her eye. “A drunk pirate once taught me where they stash all the precious goods on ships. I never had a chance to test if his theory holds water.”

“I won’t need to protect you from anything, will I?”

“No.”

Iorvil hadn’t thought she’d be apart of a capable group anytime soon after she’d lost her friends, and while she sat and ate with three odd women, alive, guilt interrupted the happiness she experienced. When Gale burst into a melancholic ballad about some thief called Orchid Brave, Iorvil had to hide her eyes behind her hand.

Tough

The giant lead her back downstairs where bunks were attached to the deck with nails, and leather straps had been screwed to their frames. The lanterns had cracked at some point, and scattered glass shards, yet some of them shone with magical light nonetheless.

Hymn had heard Iorvil weep during dinner, though she’d tried to hide it. She didn’t know what to make of it, part of her told her it was an act, but nothing about Iorvil seemed insincere. If anything, Iorvil was too honest for her own good.

If Hymn had been a firm believer of her own goddess, she might have harmed Iorvil in the hopes it would get her into Furore’s good graces. After all, if Furore had one less god to compete with, wouldn’t she breathe easier? Or something. Hymn didn’t care enough about the goddess to listen to what her followers said. Hope came off as a tad crazy at times, even if she wouldn’t tell her mother that. Venviel would chew her ear off if she did.

“This must be it,” Iorvil said, grabbed the round iron handle of a hatch built into the deck, and pulled.

Hymn watched her struggle to get the hatch open. When she figured Iorvil would release the handle and make a renewed attempt, the wood under her feet creaked. The muscles in Iorvil’s arm strained, and budged, yet she still refused to use both her hands. She kept pulling with one hand until Hymn worried she’d sooner tear a hole in hull and let in water than get the hatch open. Then she remembered how the airship didn’t have to be seaworthy. They were on land.

“There.” Iorvil forced the hatch open with sheer muscle and gestured for her to go first. “Guests first, or would you feel safer if I didn’t block your exit?”

If the giant had been anyone else than Iorvil, Hymn would have sworn she was bragging to make her think indecent thoughts. If she’d been Gale, she might have asked Iorvil to ravish her with those arms of her, so thank god she wasn’t. In her tattered shirt, Iorvil appeared too tempting.

“Hymn?” Iorvil stepped closer, looked down at her, and raised a hand to pat her on the shoulder. “How about you show me what that drunkard taught you? The pirate?”

She lost herself in the blues of Iorvil’s eyes. Someone had brought down terrible luck on her, but if she didn’t stand a chance against love anyway, was there a point in resisting? She could have a fling with a woman or two before she married.

Iorvil smiled at her, and she could have sworn she smelled lilies in the air while someone giggled in the background. She shivered, swallowed hard, and averted her gaze from the tender mountain in front of her to the open hatch.

“Perhaps it’s best if you go first,” Hymn murmured. “Someone might hide down there, and I’m unarmed. I bet you could crush anyone with your limbs though.”

“I do have my axe too…” Iorvil raised an eyebrow at her, laid a hand on her weapon. “I’m not about to crush someone with my thighs unless they ask for it.”

“I…” Hymn blushed and stood frozen when she realized she might have been about to ask for it.

Iorvil didn’t seem to notice, or at least she pretended like she hadn’t. She grabbed one of the lanterns off the deck, lowered it down into the hatch, and frowned.

“I don’t think I’m going to fit down there. Their crates and barrels are packed very tight. It looks more like a job for someone of your lithe frame, Hymn.” Iorvil let her pretty eyes trail over her body, and for the first time, she felt completely naked while dressed. “Doubtful I’d even fit through the hatch. These ships weren’t made for my sisters to move around, even if Thotrix’s servants needed them to keep their ships in their precious sky.”

Hymn approached Iorvil, looked down into the hold, and saw that it was indeed packed full. She might have trouble slipping between the crates and barrels herself. It would be impossible for someone bigger.

“I’ll be here for you.” Iorvil caressed her back with her large hand and made her feel tiny. “If someone hides down there, I’ll chop through this deck and cut them in half. I don’t need to see a rat to kill it.”

“I trust you.” Hymn steeled her nerves, took the lantern from Iorvil, and breathed. If anyone could protect her from ruffians, or worse, the bad luck of love, it would be Iorvil.

She dropped into the hold, fell against a crate, but held on tight to the lantern lest she lose it. Since the ship hadn’t caught fire during their last wild ride, she didn’t think she had to worry about that at least, but she didn’t like darkness. She hated it. Ever since she’d been a little girl, she’d thought she’d seen faces in the cellar under The Amiciers’ Rest.

“You made it.” Iorvil teased her with the sound of her confident, soothing voice.

“I did.”

“See any labels on the crates or barrels? A list of what they brought with them?” Iorvil sat on her knees and watched Hymn and her surroundings with great interest. “Any nice surprises?”

“Yes...” Hymn allowed herself to forget the darkness around her and focus on Iorvil’s scarred face.

The warrior might have killed thousands before they’d met, she didn’t know. She only felt safe when they looked at each other. She could be swept up in the wake of her storm, torn asunder, and reborn. Neither darkness nor deity would dare touch her while Iorvil did.

“Down there.” Iorvil pointed behind her and a coy smile played across her lips before it settled into a warm, loving grin aimed straight into her soul. “Not up here, Hymn.”

Hymn turned away from Iorvil, yet she could feel her eyes on her back, trailing down her shoulders, and staring where they shouldn’t stare. She would kill Gale for bringing this fate down on her head.

“Lots of beds up here,” Iorvil said.

Hymn balled her free hand into a fist at her side. She would not be cajoled to stray from her path in life, simply because lust made a claim at her loins after another long, tiresome day. She didn’t trust love.

“It might take a few hours for me to count everything!” She called up to Iorvil, stepped between two barrels, and disappeared out of sight of the hatch. “I want to check for secret compartments too.”

“I’ll wait around, so you don’t get trapped down there.”

Iorvil would wait for her for hours? Somehow, she knew it to be true for no other reason than that the giant said so. Time should be worshipped, according to her, and maybe this moment was just another altar.

Skin & Bone

“Would you like for me to show you a secret?” Phoxene rose from her seat at the end of the table, ran the tip of her fingers along Gale’s horn, and bent next to her to whisper. “A marvellous secret of the Gustfin. Adventure past closed doors, for you and I.”

“Don’t know if we should,” Gale said. No one had cleaned up after their dinner yet, the dirty plates remained on the table, and while she usually skipped every chore, she didn’t want to leave everything to Hymn. “What if my twin wants to see it too?”

Phoxene gripped her horn, caressed her cheek, and twisted her head to the side, so they came face to face. Before Gale could protest against the rough treatment, Phoxene kissed her with such ferocity she suspected she hadn’t needed to spend as much time cosying up to the clicking doll as she had.

“Are you feeling up to it now?” Phoxene ended their kiss, a trail of saliva lingered between their lips. She wiped it off, sucked her finger clean, and tugged on Gale’s horn to get her to rise to her feet. “I am.”

“I…” Gale gulped. Even if she liked to sing suggestive songs, she hadn’t been with anyone in the past. She’d not saved herself for someone special like Hymn, but she hadn’t rushed into it either. She’d heeded Hope’s warnings. A broken heart sounded awful, especially if it inspired the kind of dreary, horrible ballads others forced her to sing. “Don’t know you that well, Phoxene, and the goddess might have someone else in mind for me. Love is—“

“Daft girl, I’m not asking you to love me.” Phoxene tugged harder on her horn. “I’m letting you seduce me. If you don’t get off your ass, and come with me to the lounge, I’m tossing you off my ship.”

“Don’t—“

Phoxene kissed her again, slid her tongue along her lips, and smiled into Gale. “Famous musicians have women and men fawning over them where I’m from, so let me be your first. No love. Give me a taste of what you’ve offered all night, a dose of disappointing reality, and I’ll do my best to make it memorable.”

“You want a song written about you, don’t you?”

“No.” Phoxene removed her hand from her horn and offered it to her by holding it in front of her instead. Old scars had left deep intricacies in her palm. “I don’t want a song written about me. I want to leave a mark on your heart, so you never forget me. Whenever you’re with someone new, you’ll think back to us and sulk because they’re not like me. I want every song you write in your life to be about us, even though everyone else you meet would make a better partner.”

Gale hadn’t heard anything quite as devious in her life. “Cruel.”

“Love isn’t for me, girl. The god who claimed me for their worshippers wouldn’t tolerate it.” Phoxene sighed. “But you’ll enjoy this, I promise.”

Gale took her hand, rose to her feet, and let herself be lead toward a corner in the dining hall. She didn’t know if anyone would approve of what they were about to do, but she couldn’t claim she didn’t want to try what Phoxene flaunted.

She may reek of soot and ash, and click, but she was nearly as tall as Iorvil. If Furore had someone else in mind for her, she should have thrown them together already. Gale couldn’t wait decades for love. Someone else would tempt and seduce her, if Phoxene didn’t.

Phoxene pulled on a candlestick. The wall in the corner opened, moved to the side, and revealed a room bathed in luxury untouched by the movements of the ship. A thick, red carpet covered the deck inside while a couple of maroon armchairs stood by a window, paintings of a gloomy city hung on the walls, and a bookcase with a glass door had been built into the hull.

“Fancy.” Gale whistled. “Doesn’t have a bed though.”

“We won’t need a bed.” Phoxene dragged her inside the cramped room, pulled on another candlestick, and laid her arms around her neck while the hidden door locked them inside. “I’ll make you quiver and shake, standing upright, until you fall in a sweaty heap.”

Gale raised her hands to Phoxene’s hips, rested one of them on her waist, and brought the other up toward her chest. “Will you click louder if I bring you to your knees first?”

Phoxene slapped her so it stung, bit her lip in a hateful kiss, and forced her to turn around and place her hands on the wall. Gale would have apologized for her crude joke, but the fact that her pants ended up on the carpet a second later distracted her somewhat.

“I won’t click louder unless I intend to kill you,” Phoxene whispered, kissed her ear, and chewed on it as she smacked her butt. “You won’t bring me to my knees. Daft girl, you’ll beg me to end you today.”

Gale reached around to lift Phoxene’s gown, caught a glimpse of a scarred pale thigh, and slid her tail up along it until she heard Phoxene gasp. She’d not expected that.

“Who can tell if it can swell?” Gale sang. “You might as well, let it inside to dwell, before you yell.”

“If it’s a competition you want, I’ll break you in half.” Phoxene shook her leg to free it of Gale’s tail, placed a hand on top of her stomach, and dragged sharp nails along her sensitive skin. “Why would you think you could best someone who was forced to obey every command of her masters? I won’t enjoy this unless I choose to.”

“Belle, this injustice I smell, I’ll break with a spell.”

Gale removed her hands from the wall, spun around to confront her newfound lover, and welcomed her into an overeager hug when they collided. She wrapped her legs around her waist, shut her eyes. They kissed, tore at each other, unsure if they fought or made love.

Phoxene stumbled backwards, landed in one of the armchairs, and exhaled in anger when she noticed how Gale straddled her lap. The tumble had ruffled her red hair so it framed her face and exposed the top of her breasts and forearms. She appeared wild, untameable, yet she grew sullen and pulled the gown back over disturbing contraptions buried in her arms.

“Are you done playing games?” Phoxene snarled. “Can you do what I tell you to?”

Gale pouted. She didn’t like being told what to do. Besides, why should she surrender when she’d landed on top? She ought to claim her victory and reward.

“Let me worship you,” Gale said, licked Phoxene’s neck, and tugged the gown down off her ample chest with excited hands. “How am I supposed to write hundreds of songs about this work of art in front of me if you don’t let me view it in its full glory?”

Phoxene grabbed her horn again to press her face downward along her torso, to make her kneel at the foot of the armchair, and in turn, Gale dragged a wet line with her tongue across her pale chest.

“You’re going to end up famous because no one could possibly tire of your wit. Isn’t that correct, demon?” Phoxene snorted. “But I tire quickly. And if you don’t prove worth my time, I might tell Rhabour how you wasted my day.”

“You’re only giving me a day?” Gale looked up at Phoxene’s face, and winked, but soon found her gaze drifting towards the peaks of her breasts. “I would have asked for a year or two. I could get used to the sights from this airship.”

Phoxene pushed her face down. “Eat me.”

Merry

“I found this,” Hymn said and stretched an aged, brown bottle up toward her. “Hidden behind a plank in the hull, so that drunk pirate was right. My bad for assuming he meant gold or gems.”

“Alcohol is a great treasure to some.” Iorvil took the bottle in one hand, pulled Hymn up from the hold with her other, and sat with her back against the hull. It was difficult to read the faded label on the bottle. If she had to guess, she’d say it read Cog Rum, but that name seemed to lack the usual finesse of the empire. “Do you want to share?”

“I suppose, if you don’t mind me getting drunk.” Hymn twirled her fingers into the fabric of her dress and sat next to her. Closer than she’d expected the woman would dare sit.

“Not at all.” Iorvil uncorked the bottle, so a spicy scent wafted out of it. “I haven’t drunk in the company of friends in… weeks? Forget how long it’s been since the warriors I travelled with last had a chance to feast. Though, they’re bound to liven up their next lifetimes.”

“Rhabour doesn’t believe in the afterlife? A realm where all the dead goes?” Hymn smelled the bottle, scrunched her face up, and withdrew.

“Rhabour teaches us mortals are reborn in endless circles to experience everything the world has to offer. Does…” Iorvil trailed off, since she understood she shouldn’t bring up the goddess of love, and drank.

When the harsh, relentless taste of unknown spices assailed her tongue, she coughed and almost spat the rum out. She may get used to it, in time, if she didn’t care whether the alcohol ruined her sense of taste for life or not. But for now, she might have had enough. It hadn’t aged well. Who knew how long it had lain in the hold?

Hymn grabbed the bottle and grazed her fingers. “Let me taste.”

“Don’t think you want to.” Iorvil held onto it. “It’s vile.”

“Unless you’ve suddenly become my wife, I don’t believe you get a say in anything I do, Iorvil.”

“Suit yourself.” Iorvil relinquished the bottle to Hymn and watched her drink and contort her face in disgust, yet the woman went for a second and third sip anyway. “What would someone do if they wished to marry you?”

Hymn spat the rum out along the deck without concern for decorum. “Why do you ask!”

“You asked me about my god, and while I’m happy to teach you about Rhabour, I’m doing most of the talking. I’m not getting to know you.” Iorvil smiled and stroked the moon around her neck. “I don’t know what form the new beginning I seek will take. I’d like to think it would come in a friendly face. You may have green skin, but your face—”

“You’re one to talk!” Hymn slammed the bottle down on the deck with a loud clink. “Half of your face is messed up by scars. My face—“

“It is.” Iorvil agreed and poked at the scars she’d gotten while attempting to free another machine like Phoxene of their shackles. “So your face has a much greater appeal than mine. It’s smoother, undamaged. Softer too, I’d bet.”

Hymn blushed, raised her hands to her face, and touched her nose and cheeks as if she’d never touched them herself. Iorvil couldn’t deny she longed to do the same and investigate what Hymn felt like under her calloused fingers.

Their eyes met. Hymn refused to break eye contact first. She was too proud, too immovable, to bend to Iorvil. While she suspected she might bring bad luck down on Hymn’s cute, bald head, she still lifted her hand to her face and caressed her cheek.

The woman gasped, and glared at her, but relaxed into her hand. Hymn was softer than she’d imagined, yet her features had a certain coarseness to them too which bestowed them with a strange maturity. Perhaps she’d lived longer than her youthful appearance would suggest.

“I shouldn’t allow this to go on,” Hymn whispered, pressed her nose into Iorvil’s wrist, and breathed in whatever scent she discovered there. “Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s not you. I don’t want love. I’ve learnt what she does to people.”

Iorvil removed her hand from Hymn’s face, looked down at the half moon around her own neck, and flicked the holy symbol so it flipped into a fuller moon. “If you fear your own goddess so, why follow her?”

“Because I fear her.” Hymn grabbed the rum, took another sip to seek solace in alcohol, and shuddered, but Iorvil couldn’t tell if it was because of the taste or because of her goddess. “Who knows what she’d do to me if she learnt I’d sooner work my life away than give in to her fanciful insanity? She should be condemned for what happened to my mothers.”

The goddess of love had not attacked her brethren, and if Iorvil angered her, it might mean the end for Rhabour and herself. Yet if she sat idly by and did nothing, she may not forgive herself.

“Do you want to give it another taste?” Hymn offered her the rum again. “It doesn’t taste so bad once—“

“Once it’s killed your sense of taste?” Iorvil declined the bottle, laid a protective arm around Hymn’s shoulders, and scooted up against her smaller frame. “Rhabour made me his champion. You don’t have to follow your goddess, any longer, if you don’t want to.”

Hymn shifted nervously but leaned her head against her side. “What do you mean I don’t?”

“You could join us.”

“I…” Hymn paused, stared at the deck, and drank. “I could. But what would happen to my family? My mothers? My twin? Stupid Gale will chase Furore’s ass until the end of time if she promises her fame, world renown, but she might just lead her to her doom. Because I didn’t get on my knees. Because I decided to listen to someone wiser.”

“Time doesn’t have an end.” Iorvil assured her. “And I will always protect my brethren to the best of my abilities. Till the day I die. My record may not look great, at the moment, but I would give my life for you and your twin. It’s harder to help those who are far away, like your mothers, but they’ve survived one encounter with this Furore, haven’t they?”

“I have a little brother too. He’s too cute for this world.”

“Everyone would be included. Even if they weren’t born in the Voiceless Mountains.” Iorvil sighed. “I don’t think anyone has been born there in years now though. Time did its best for my brethren, but there’s only so much it can do.”

“You probably shouldn’t mention that when you’re trying to convince me to join you. I might prefer to take my chances with love.” Hymn snorted. “Not that I do, but…”

“I understand.”

“No, no.” Hymn placed the bottle at her side and turned to Iorvil with a serious expression. “You’re right. I should join you. My family is strong enough to survive without me, and I’m not abandoning them. I’m abandoning evil. Someone who corrupts love with their very existence.”

“You’re sure that’s not the rum talking?”

“It’s not.” Hymn stretched her neck and planted a kiss on Iorvil’s lips. Somehow, the sweet woman made the taste of the rum on her tongue bearable. Iorvil pulled her closer against herself, but Hymn put a hand on her chest and ended the kiss before either of them could take it further. “Maybe we shouldn’t seal this arrangement with love.”

“Maybe not.” Iorvil would have enjoyed love, for an hour or two, but she could live without it. “We could spend time together instead, get to know each other better. I have nothing else to do except sleep, and I don’t feel tired. Not in your company.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.”

“Well, I’m not sure you would have if you’d lived with Gale for years.” Hymn groaned. “I swear she can go for days on end without sleep, without slowing down, as if someone had lit her tail on fire. And if she doesn’t run around like a headless hen, she’ll burst into flames herself.”

“Your twin loves you, Hymn. She wouldn’t shut up about you earlier, when she followed me along while I did my best to hunt in her loud company.”

“It’s a miracle you caught anything then.”

“I suppose it is.” Iorvil nodded, opened herself to the moment they found themselves in, and welcomed Rhabour’s undeniable presence in the slow flow of minutes.

“Can I sit in your lap?” Hymn asked in nothing but a whisper, burped, and grew flustered when she realized she’d been heard.

“Sure.”

“It’s not inappropriate for a follower of Rhabour?”

“Faithful of Rhabour.” Iorvil corrected her, crossed her legs under herself, and waited for Hymn to move. The woman hesitated but eventually climbed over her legs and sat in her lap. “We call ourselves faithful.”

“To set yourself apart?”

“Who knows? Perhaps that’s how it began. My parents told me it’s to remind ourselves that we should remain loyal in our faith…”

Iorvil found it problematic to deny to herself that she didn’t want to throw Hymn on one of the beds. The woman refused to sit still in her lap, and her limbs and bones pressed into Iorvil’s flesh. Thankfully, she’d not drunk half as much of the rum as Hymn had, or she might have done something she would have regretted.

“You’re so big.” Hymn leaned the back of her head against her chest and yawned. “A giant pillow.”

“Those are my…” Iorvil figured she best not tell Hymn what they were, lest she flee up the stairs before the goddess of love made an appearance. “Yup, I’m a giant pillow. Squeeze me all you want.”

“Maybe I’ll hold you to that one day.” Hymn giggled and stroked Iorvil’s legs. “In the meantime, you should tell me everything I need to know to not commit unforgiveable sins by Rhabour’s standards.”

“Time is precious. Don’t waste someone else’s.” Iorvil considered asking Hymn if they could get in bed, because the woman tortured all of her senses at once when she squirmed in her lap, but instead she made an attempt to enjoy what she was given.

Lair

While Fate had allied herself with the sizzling Furore, in recent times, the goddess of love wasn’t the first she’d sworn loyalty to. Once upon a time, she’d existed as part of a united pantheon. Way before gods and goddesses came to the conclusion that their powers originated from how many worshippers they had. Back then, they’d gotten along better with each other. They’d been forced to tolerate those of opposing views.

Fate had been happier when she hadn’t needed to worry about dying because mortals might stop respecting her, yet even though she’d not cared for centuries, she’d never disappeared. Almost as if a number of humans and elves across the world pranced around and believed in destiny and luck, no matter what. Ridiculous.

She strode into Thotrix’s gaudy temple of brass, iron, and bronze where her footsteps echoed against the metal beneath her feet. Thotrix sat on a throne built out of their failed inventions, waved for her to approach, and seemed to expect her to obey. If Fate hadn’t come to talk with Thotrix in particular, she would have left in protest.

“Fate, long it’s been since we met.” Thotrix sounded inhuman, machine-like, when they spoke. Their blank face looked like it’d been crafted out of wood, while the rest of their body appeared humanoid at a glance. Since Thotrix wore a heavy coat that hid their body, however, she couldn’t determine for sure what materials they’d used to construct their limbs and torso. She assumed it wasn’t flesh and bone.

“It has?” Fate crossed her arms under her chest, stopped halfway across the temple floor, and shut her eyes. “Can’t recall our last meeting. Not memorable.”

“You worked well for me until we parted.” Thotrix emitted a laughter that couldn’t possibly sound more mechanical. They must have practiced. “Have you returned to beg me to restore your place at my side? I fear I’ve lost the others too.”

“Not in my interest.” Fate shouldn’t have bothered with the old god of inventions, and now progress. They would not change. If they listened to her, it would be because they intended to use her for their own purposes. Thotrix would betray her like she’d once betrayed many of the others.

“What is in your interest? Falling in love?” Thotrix scoffed. “Have you gone soft in your old age?”

“No older than you.”

“So you like to claim, yet everyone mentions your face as the first face they laid their eyes upon when they awakened. Every god. Not one or two. All of them agree on the same detail. A golden deer.”

“Silly you.” Fate opened her eyes when Thotrix stepped down from their throne and paced back and forth. “Silly them.”

“You can’t destroy me.” Thotrix extended a gleaming blade out of the sleeve of their coat. “You don’t have power over my destiny.”

“…Your destiny?”

“Someone must have created the planet, created us, or we wouldn’t be here.”

Fate had listened to a lot of nonsense in her eons, but if Thotrix believed she was the goddess of creation itself, hmm… Perhaps she could use it for fun. She grinned to herself. It gave her tingles. Such a misconception could create endless drama.

Boundless

After hours of intense sex without any emotion except lust attached to it, Phoxene made a half-hearted attempt to escape Gale’s desire but didn’t get far. She possessed the strength to pull the candlestick down and open the door, but not enough to get outside.

She ended up slumped on the carpet where she gasped for air, while involuntary quakes rocked her naked form. The contraptions clicked and whirred in her arms, yet they’d not really interfered with Phoxene’s ability to contribute. She’d been perfect.

“Wanna go again?” Gale threw herself next to Phoxene, scratched her long, endless legs, and purred. “I’m setting a record here. No one’s stayed awake this long and shook anyone’s reality this hard, ever! The world won’t see me coming, but they’ll all know I was there. And I took their wives.”

“How…” Phoxene hid under her red hair, curled up into a ball, and breathed as if she worried she’d run out of air before she could get a chance to play with Gale again. “How are you not exhausted? The half-demon thing, that wasn’t a joke, was it? You’re no mortal.”

“Might be my goddess shines her light brighter on me tonight… today. Whatever time it is.” Gale shrugged. “I am but a humble servant of love. And you’re my temple now.”

“Save me…” Phoxene muttered. “Rhabour.”

Gale got tired as everyone else, and sure, her legs and arms had started to voice their complaints, their wishes to end the day, but how could she? Everything was so exciting. This day would go down in memory as one of the best.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Furore did smile on her. If no one else in her family wanted to champion love’s cause, Gale may as well pick up its flag. She’d already waved it around for years while singing awful ballads. Genuinely, god-awful ballads that should offend Furore if she heard them.

“So? What are we waiting for?” Gale rolled onto Phoxene, sweat glued their limbs together, and grinned up at her lover. She could get used to a taller wife, husband, or whatever Furore decided to toss into her arms when she gave her a true love. Hopefully they would have a chest as round as Phoxene’s. “Are we going again?”

“You go again.” Phoxene blushed at her through the hair that concealed her face. “This is as far I as I push myself. I won’t break my back chasing your insatiable demands.”

“Aww, is the scary lady too tired to play?” Gale sat up on her knees, dug her nails into Phoxene’s bruised thighs, and lifted one leg after another onto her shoulders until she ended up in the middle of them. “Will the singer have to carry their performance alone for a couple of hours?”

“A couple of hours!?” Phoxene squirmed, listlessly, but only tightened the hold Gale had given her by laying her legs around her head. “I’m not a temple, or a machine. I’m a woman. I have tasks to do.”

“Oh.” Gale licked her lips, hesitant. “You’re serious? You want to stop, here? Even if I’m used to carrying everyone’s entertainment on my own? I don’t think what we’ve done so far will inspire me to write hundreds of songs about you. Might write one called the lazy doll though.”

That seemed to ignite a fire within Phoxene who glared at her with her grey-green eyes. “Why are you like this?”

“Who can say?” Gale smirked. “Maybe I was born under the best signs. Maybe I was dropped on the head as a baby.”

“The latter then.”

“Or I just wanna impress you, so you won’t forget me either?” Gale laughed. “I’m going to be—“

“Famous. Right, I got it.” Phoxene pinched the bridge of her nose, grunted, and arched her back to push Gale’s face down between her legs. “Carry the show then, daft girl. No one will please me like you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Definitely.” Gale dug in and prepared to bring Phoxene well past exhaustion and beyond.

For a while, Phoxene surrendered to Gale and allowed her to do anything she wished to her body. She only screamed in pleasure, every now and then, quivered, and shook harder every time Gale brought her to a higher high.

Gale listened to her moan, with intent, as if she planned to write new songs to those very sounds. If she had, she would have loved to see Phoxene sitting in the audience, around a table in a tavern somewhere, rolling her eyes at her with a frown while she belted them out.

After an hour or so, Phoxene regained her strength and repaid Gale for every favour she owed. She enforced her will on her. During those moments, when Phoxene forced her face down into the carpet on the floor, Gale wondered who had hurt the woman to the point where she felt the need to enslave someone else to feel comfortable in her own skin.

Nothing gave her the kind of inspiration that Phoxene did when she tasted every sensitive spot on her body, teased, and muttered about how she was worthless. Gale preferred to be on top, but if she helped Phoxene, somehow, by making her forget whatever had happened, she didn’t mind getting spanked.

If they’d known each other better, longer, Gale might have asked about the contraptions in her arms. They unsettled her, turned her stomach when they got too close to her face, but she ignored them for Phoxene’s sake.

For her own sake too, admittedly, since she doubted Phoxene would have spent hours in her arms, between her legs, if she’d commented on them.

They didn’t have to know each other. Phoxene wasn’t her love. They could remain strangers through nights and nights to come.

Liquid Night

Hymn didn’t recall falling asleep in a bed, yet when she woke up, she found herself tucked in under a blanket while Iorvil lay in the bunk next to hers. The giant snored, and the size of her might have scared anyone else. But Hymn could recall, through the haze of rum, how they’d talked and talked while hugging. She’d sat in Iorvil’s lap, and Iorvil had made no move to seduce her.

She’d always assumed every potential lover she’d meet would be boring, until she encountered her true love, but Iorvil was far from it. If anyone called Iorvil boring, Hymn would defend her. After one night, she believed she knew enough about the woman to call her a close friend. Either she was correct, or she’d not shaken the effects of the rum yet.

She heard singing from the deck above, so she got out of bed, brushed her dress, patted it down along her sides, and left Iorvil to sleep in peace. She remembered how she’d said she’d join Rhabour, over her own goddess, but she couldn’t tell for sure how long that choice would stand.

Furore would take offence, if she found out, and then Hymn might get flung far, far from Iorvil. They might never see each other again. The idea made her pause before she followed the singing up onto the top deck and into the brisk air.

Gale stood leaned across the railing in the bow of the Gustfin. The sun climbed above the mountain range, painted the sky with yellow and orange brushstrokes, and splashed Gale in its light.

“What are you doing up this early?” Hymn asked, stopped next to her twin, and noticed how she seemed to have forgotten to keep her clothes in a respectable condition. She’d no idea how Gale had managed to create all those stains, and she didn’t think she’d like to know either.

“Phoxene said she wanted to watch the sunrise with me, but then she fell asleep, so I’m watching it for both of us.” Gale yawned and stretched her legs. “I think I broke her spirit last night. Now we might never get home to our beloved mothers. It makes me heartbroken.”

“Don’t say that if it’s not true.” Hymn raised her hand to swat Gale but had a change of heart and lowered it instead. “What if this is it for the foreseeable future? What if one of us dies before we meet again?”

“Venviel said she met her parents after they died. Our grandparents.” Gale looked down at the grass swaying in the wind below the ship. “Did you honestly plan to stay in Caelora until the end of your days, or was that something you said to encourage Hope to give you the tavern?”

“Of course I—“

“Honest truth, Hymn.” Gale interrupted. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“I…” She’d been about to reprimand Gale for even asking such a question, but when she gave herself time to think, she realized she no longer had a quick answer. “I did plan to stay, but now, after all of this, after experiencing more of the world, I suppose it would be a shame to never leave our village.”

Gale threw an arm around her, grinned, and rubbed her knuckles against her scalp until Hymn grabbed her hand. She stank of soot and ash. What exactly had she been doing with Phoxene?

“I told Iorvil I preferred her god over you know who.” Hymn admitted it out loud while Gale hung on her. A flock of birds became visible on the horizon. “It feels good to spend time with her.”

“So you’re pliant now?”

“No. I don’t have to soften to be with Iorvil. I can be myself.”

“She must already love you if she can tolerate all your glaring flaws, huh?”

Hymn swatted her twin’s shoulder, since she kept begging for it. “Iorvil and I probably have more in common than you’d suspect, than what’s obvious on the surface. I don’t think we’re that different. I wouldn’t hate spending my days with someone like her. I…”

“You’re cosying up to a bear.” Gale turned her back against the railing, crossed her legs, and touched the rapier stuck into the scabbard at her waist. “You know I may not always be there to defend you, right?”

“Since when have I needed you to defend me?” Hymn snorted, yet she could remember many moments when Gale had sung louder, or kicked over a tankard while dancing across tables, to distract the worst customers of the tavern. “And if Iorvil is a bear, what do you think Phoxene is? A puppy? I saw you whispering.”

“Oh, she’s a viper, no question about it, and we did a lot more than whisper.”

“You do understand a viper is worse than a bear?”

“I’m not here for a long time.” Gale threw her hands up and donned that dumb grin of hers that told everyone she didn’t care about what happened to her, as long as someone got a kick out of watching it. “If my death brings me greater fame, then that’s a sacrifice I’m—“

“Shut up.” Hymn surprised herself when she pressed her hand over Gale’s mouth. “Just shut up. I’m not going to stand by and watch you throw your life away. If I have to drag you along with me, like a ball in a chain, for the rest of my days, I will.”

Gale removed her hand from her mouth, nodded solemnly. “You know, one reason to marry Iorvil… She’d carry me for you.”

“You’d be lucky if she dragged you after us, along the ground.” Hymn shook her head, exhaled a drawn out sigh, and hugged her twin. “You need to take a bath, but I’ll try to love you despite the smell.”

“Very considerate.” Gale returned the hug. “But you stink of alcohol yourself, so I’m not sure who’s worse. What did you do last night?”

“I think it’s best if we draw a line between what we do with certain people, and what we tell each other. We can keep secrets, even from each other as twins, if it’s a certain type of secret.” Hymn smiled. “Let’s leave it at how I had fun and enjoyed my time with someone new.”

“Should I assume you’re too much of a prude to fuck a stranger even when you’re shitfaced then?”

Hymn pushed Gale into the railing of the airship and stepped away from her. “I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“Will you hear me better if I sing it?” Gale whispered.

“Depends. Do you want to lose a tooth?”

“No.”

Gale didn’t break into song until Hymn was halfway down the staircase to the lower decks, and then she didn’t improvise one of her rhymes. She picked a lesser known ballad about a soldier who got lost between dream and reality, but eventually discovered the road to a new home with the help of a nymph.

Hymn couldn’t tell whether she should take it as a comment on their current situation, or a spontaneous impulse on Gale’s part. She stopped to listen to the heartfelt rendition and wished her sister hadn’t forgotten her lute. Gale was a wonderful musician. She deserved fame.

To Gold

The moment her head hit a pillow, Gale fell asleep. She didn’t know how long she’d been awake, but she’d broken her previous record, and it gave her a sense of childish pride while she drifted off into dreams.

She might have preferred to rest, uninterrupted, until she awakened again, but instead she found herself standing outside of The Amiciers’ Rest in Caelora. Night had begun to fall, and the familiar voices of dozens of guests emanated from inside the tavern.

Even though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she knew something was different with her home. She didn’t think Caelora had ever had as many lights in the streets as it seemed to have tonight. She noticed a few new houses too.

Hope opened the door to the tavern, hunched over, and Venviel assisted her wife along the street. They walked in the direction of their home. Venviel did not appear a day older since Gale and Hymn had been children, but Hope seemed like she approached the end of her natural life.

Gale hated to see her mother claimed by age, so she tore her gaze from the old couple, strode up to the tavern, and stopped when she noticed a poster with her face nailed to the wall. She worried she would discover a wanted poster, but no, even if it was hard to read the faded writing, the poster seemed to advertise an event of some kind. Maybe it was Furore telling her she would become famous in the future, if she didn’t abandon love.

She opened the door to the tavern, peeked inside, and found a bunch of rowdy pirates drinking to their heart’s content while Hymn stood behind the counter. She looked decades older, happier too. Art appeared from out of the kitchen and carried a couple of plates with meals on them. Her brother had grown into a lanky man, who attracted looks from a number of the pirates.

If she became famous in the future, Gale wished her mothers would have hired another musician to replace her. The Amiciers’ Rest sounded eerily quiet without her around to cheer everyone up and give them an escape from their sorrows. How long had it been since she’d last visited Caelora if the poster on the wall was so faded she could barely make out the writing? Did they miss her?

A woman put their hand on the door and shut it. “Everything reaches an end. Heroes die. Legends fade. But you, you’ll live on in the hearts of humanity and elvenkind, won’t you?”

Gale turned towards the new arrival. The demon with large wings, horns, and purple skin couldn’t be anyone else than Furore. Venviel had described the goddess to them, so they wouldn’t mistake her for a friend. In person, she didn’t appear intimidating. She played with a brittle-looking glass dagger, but it couldn’t hurt anyone.

“If…” Gale bowed to her goddess. “I hope so. It’s my dream, if it’s not too much to ask of you.”

“You will miss this.” Furore gestured at the village. “You think now that this is what you want. This dream. But dreams are dreams for a reason. They’re fragile illusions that won’t hold up to the light. If you pursue this dream of fame, you’ll find yourself broken and battered and broken again. Your family won’t always be there for you. Caelora won’t welcome you like its daughter.”

“I know, but I thought you wanted me to… to chase my dream. Or you wouldn’t have put the desire inside of me.”

“Who taught you that?” Furore scoffed, pointed the dagger at her, and drew a pink heart in the middle of the air. “Hope? No, the temple beat my words into her spine, even if they twisted and corrupted them in the process. Venviel? Venviel is a true believer. She would have made a better follower of the former goddess of love than me, but here we are. I don’t plan to disown the woman who restored Hope’s light to the world.”

“Then…” Gale scratched her head. “What? Are you asking me to give up on my dream? On fame? On music? What if that’s what I love? What if I don’t need a person to be my true love?”

“No, Gale. I’m asking you to acknowledge the deity who did put those ideas in your head, or abandon them and consider where on the scale between true love and hate fuck Phoxene ends up.” Furore raised both her hands, tilted her head from side to side. “Is she too far towards the left or the right?”

“What…?” Gale glanced behind her, but the door of the tavern had disappeared. She only saw a wood wall. “Phoxene won’t love me. What other deity?”

Furore bared fangs in a twisted grin. “I can make anyone love anyone. Since Thotrix wouldn’t think to search my lands for a lost lamb, Phoxene would be safe in Caelora if you’d rather pursue a relationship with her than fame.”

Gale would miss her family, and they may miss her, but at least they’d always know they loved each other. She wouldn’t forget them. She would sing about them through the years and years. Phoxene could delude herself into thinking Gale would write hundreds of songs about her, but even if she did, she’d write thousands about Hope, Venviel, Art, and Hymn. She’d sing about Caelora too. But still, she would never feel that she’d been meant to settle down and run a tavern with her twin.

“I can’t have love and my dream?”

“You can.” Furore nodded. “But I can see you’d intend to climb the highest mountain, and then, you’d have halves at the worst of times. You wouldn’t be whole. In the end, this would always be the outcome. Your family would carry on without you.”

Gale didn’t want to think about why the goddess had chosen this moment in her life to tell her all of this. She didn’t want to imagine what may lay further up the road. “Would they be happy? My family?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t need love, then, if they’re happy and safe.”

Furore laughed. “And isn’t that what it’s all about?”

“Why—“

Before she could ask her question, Furore kicked her through the wall of the tavern, shattered the wood, and sent her sliding along the floor under the legs of people.

When she stopped sliding, she found a gorgeous golden creature standing above her with a cheeky smile on their face. She couldn’t help thinking they resembled a deer, if someone had crafted a half-deer, half-elf statue out of pure gold. Behind the woman, she could see a blue sky with clouds sprinkled across it.

“Hey.” Gale waved at the deer woman. “I’m passing through dreams.”

She noticed she laid in the middle of a busy street when someone almost stepped on her. Humans hurried past her on every side, and the stone buildings along the street didn’t look like any buildings she’d seen before. Not in dream or reality. They were too rectangular, too similar to each other, too bland, to have been constructed by elves.

“Don’t go to love, ask her to make you famous,” the deer woman said in a strange accent. “Come to me, Gale.”

“Who are you?”

“Fate. Goddess of destiny, luck, and...” Fate paused, her cheeky smile widened. “Creation. All around you, everywhere.”

“Powerful, aren’t you?”

“Your goddess too.” Fate turned her lips downward in a frown. “Second goddess of Lho Allanar. Your mothers forgot me.”

“No, no, they didn’t. They—“

“No lies!” Fate slammed a heavy golden foot down next to her head.

Gale took it as the threat it was since she understood that foot could have cracked her skull like an egg, but why did she find herself kicked from one domineering woman to the next? Couldn’t they lighten up? Would she have to seduce Fate to make her purr like Phoxene?

Fate stared at her like she could hear her thoughts, waved her hand, and summoned the robe of a priestess to cover her golden figure.

“They forgot you. Or I forgot they ever mentioned you.”

“No matter.” Fate crouched by her head, flapped her deer-like ears. “You want to be famous. Control your destiny. Furore showed you what I will ask.”

“She did…?” Gale tried to sit up, but Fate put a hand on her forehead and froze her in place.

No one around them reacted. Either the humans couldn’t see them, or the dream realm didn’t bother pretending they were real. The city breathed with endless noise, but it stayed in the background where she couldn’t discern landmarks.

“Love for fame. Family.” Fate traced some pattern on her skin with her fingertips. “We’ll learn how far you’ll go. First, return Phoxene to the empire. She’ll have jumped the ship when you wake. Wrong place. Serene. You prevent her from jumping twice in a day.”

“I’m not comfortable doing that. Phoxene’s…” Gale trailed off when Furore appeared in the crowd, strode past her, and drew a red heart in the air with her dagger. “Phoxene has suffered enough in life.”

“You’re brave, arguing with the goddess of your destiny and your creation.”

She’d listened to her mothers’ stories. If she did not betray Phoxene, Fate and Furore would punish her, and still do whatever they wanted with the woman. What choice did she have? Why pretend she could affect the outcome?

“I’ll… keep her busy.”

“Wonderful. You make me happy,” Fate said yet her expression hinted at neither joy nor sadness.

The Flow of Days

After a breakfast which consisted of the apples, pears, and oranges they’d discovered in crates in the hold, the Gustfin made another leap through space and landed on a meadow by a lake. The bow of the ship teetered on the grassy edge of the lakeside where it threatened to slide into the water.

Iorvil gripped the handle of her axe as she spotted the massive stone towers of the Bridge of Oriel on the horizon. She couldn’t mistake the landmark for anything else after she’d seen it once, years ago, and Keeper Jerfell had told her about it.

The Bridge of Oriel had been built on the southern edge of the empire between two hills the size of mountains. Someone could stand at the foot of the bridge and scream, yet no one on top would hear them. The distance between the bridge and the lake was too great.

“What’s got you nervous?” Hymn asked, leaned her head against her arm, and chomped a bite out of the pear in her hand.

“I’m not nervous!” Gale exclaimed and startled them both with her sudden appearance. “If you don’t want me around, I guess I’ll check in on Phoxene! This is such a wonderful place to land! What a view!”

“You can stay…” Hymn glanced at her twin, raised her brow, but the woman didn’t seem to listen as she strode across the deck towards the stern. “I’m not sure if she’s worse before or after she’s slept.”

“You’re very different.” Iorvil removed her hand from her axe to grip the railing instead. Even if Phoxene had brought them closer to the empire, she didn’t think they’d entered its borders yet. Perhaps it would be best if they disembarked before Phoxene jumped them into the sky above the capital and claimed it was an accident.

“We are, but I hope you don’t think less of my twin because of her… peculiarities.” Hymn finished her pear, dropped it over the railing, and watched it plummet into the lake. She took a step backward when a shadow moved under the water’s surface.

“I won’t judge anyone.” Iorvil assured her. “I leave that up to the gods.”

“I’m not sure they’re capable of doing that fairly either.”

“You might be right.”

Hymn fished another pear out of her dress. “Do you want to go for a swim with me? I haven’t gotten a chance to bathe in a while, and I’d like to see…”

“Me, naked?” Iorvil cracked a grin.

“T-that’s, well, I-I-I…” Hymn stuttered. “N-not what I had in mind, but sure.”

“Intriguing. Consider the feeling mutual.” Iorvil stroked her back. “I don’t think this is a good place to land though. Regardless of what your twin says, so we might want to ask Phoxene what she thinks she’s doing. If she’s going to betray us, I’d like to know before it happens.”

“You won’t leave the revelation up to time?”

“No. I’d prefer not to.” Iorvil clenched her jaw at the memories of those she’d lost. They’d not been slaves to time. They’d been warriors. She hoped Hymn hadn’t gotten the wrong impression about the faithful. “I’m not a leaf caught by the winds of the circles. I’m a boulder. If I don’t want to move, I won’t. Not even for Rhabour. I may be his champion, but I won’t obey mindlessly.”

“Gale’s smart. She’ll warn us if Phoxene tries something.” Hymn stuffed her mouth full with fruit before muttering: “Besides, if they’re busy screwing, they won’t bother us or anyone.”

Iorvil didn’t know Gale well enough to determine whether that was true, or something Hymn wanted to believe, but she supposed they were stuck together. And if Gale was smart, she would not trust Phoxene. She would keep an eye on her in case the mage had a method to contact her former masters.

“She wants to go home too,” Hymn said. “Maybe not today, but she will soon enough. Whenever this adventure becomes too difficult to endure. We’re simple girls, despite appearances.”

“I’ll get you there.”

“I don’t doubt it, but…” Hymn tossed her second pear into the lake, ran her hand along Iorvil’s arm, intertwined their fingers on top of the railing, and bit her lip. “It seems we’ll have a lot of time together before that happens. Wouldn’t Rhabour tell us it’s a mistake to not take advantage of it?”

“You really want to get me naked that bad?”

“Think of it as…” Hymn rolled her eyes at some unspoken thought, looked at the stern where Gale and Phoxene stood. “Catching up on lost time. Rhabour—“

“This isn’t about my god as much as your twin, is it?” Iorvil flicked the full moon around her neck, but out in broad daylight, the holy symbol didn’t change into a half moon. “You’re not planning something, are you?”

Iorvil had only met the twins days ago, and even if they seemed the honest sort, they could have deceived her from the start. They could be agents of the empire. She’d no idea why they’d do any of this if that was the case, but she may have been too trusting.

Hymn rubbed her elbow and huffed. “She called me a prude.”

“Ah.” Iorvil tried to conceal her laughter by coughing. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“I’d rather not.” Hymn tapped her foot against the deck. “Not while she’s thrown herself on this Phoxene.”

“Right.” Iorvil hadn’t needed to know about them. They didn’t seem like they’d make a compatible match, but she hardly knew either of them. “You give me little choice.”

“I do?”

Iorvil hoisted Hymn into her arms, embraced her, and carried her halfway across the deck before she stopped to drop her axe. Hymn protested loud enough to alert Gale and Phoxene to what she was doing, but when they stared, she grew quieter than the dead.

“This is embarrassing,” Hymn hissed.

“Why? I’m doing it with you.”

“My mistake. It’s perfectly fine then.”

“Ever flown like a hawk?”

“Why do you ask…?”

Iorvil looked out across the railing, the lake, and focused on the Bridge of Oriel. She ran, picked up speed while Hymn cowered in her arms, and leapt off the bow of the Gustfin. While they soared through the air, free of the shackles of the earth, she let out a roar for everything she believed in. They were alive. The gods ought to know.

Splash

Hymn sunk like a stone wrapped in Iorvil’s arm, yet she’d never felt safer than when the giant grinned at her underwater. She wouldn’t hate drowning, if Iorvil did it alongside her. They could get a head start on their next lives and be reborn into new bodies. Grow up together. Marry. Grow old. Die. And then do it all over.

If someone had told her they’d met each other before, in another circle, again and again, she would have taken it as truth. Iorvil seemed too grand, too endearing, for a woman she’d only met days ago. Her blue eyes were far too familiar. And with each moment they spent together, Iorvil became more recognizable. They must have met in another life, surely.

When she worried they might actually be headed into a watery grave together, Iorvil swam for the surface, burst out of the water, and lifted her high into the air to breathe. The Gustfin rested on the meadow, an obedient pet that wouldn’t leave without them.

Iorvil laughed, dropped her, and caught her again in her arms as she plunged into the warm water. “You’ll make someone very happy one day, Hymn.”

“I…” Hymn stuck her fingers into the wet mess that was Iorvil’s hair, took in her features by touching, forgot the hideous scar, and found herself drawn to those full lips. “I want to make…”

She’d never feared for her life like she did the second she realized what she’d been about to say. She wanted to make Iorvil very happy, not someone else. Her heart pounded at her ribcage, like it needed to scream for her brain to hear it and accept what it thought.

Gale had brought the worst luck down on them by acting the fool, stumbling into an airship of all things, and getting her entangled in Furore’s schemes. She may as well accept that she’d never see her mothers, the tavern, or Caelora again. If Rhabour was kind to her, he would give her a chance to buy the tavern in another timeline, but it wouldn’t be the same. She wouldn’t have earned it through hard work.

“Did you change your mind?” Iorvil asked and teased her by sliding her arms out of her tattered shirt. “Should we find somewhere more private? They might see us if they look over the railing.”

“No, I…”

Damn the gods. If she was cursed to never return home again, she may as well cherish what she’d found. If love could use her as a pawn without permission, what difference did resistance make?

“What, Hymn? Are you cold? Is the water not to your liking?” Iorvil swam backwards toward the Gustfin. It wasn’t until she stumbled, and almost dropped her, that Hymn suspected the giant may be walking along the bottom of the lake. She didn’t know how deep it was. Only that it had felt deep to her. “Are you mad because I embarrassed you? I can embarrass myself in front of those two. There’s nothing like a good laugh at your own—“

Hymn dug her nails into Iorvil, tugged at her hair, and kissed her lips because she couldn’t fight the desire anymore. Iorvil slid her hands up under her dress, groped her, and inserted her tongue between her lips as if the only thing she’d waited for to ravish her body was for Hymn to take the first step.

She soon lay under the bow of the Gustfin, where the others shouldn’t be able to see them, with Iorvil on top of her and their legs in the lake. She’d like to think she’d surrendered to the god of time before she’d surrendered to the goddess of love, but she doubted they would care when they called on her.

In the moment, she only worried about exposing Iorvil’s muscular figure and tracing it with her tongue. She hoped no one would take offence to how she would sooner worship a mortal than a deity. At least she could tell Iorvil wanted her best.

Reversal

Gale watched Iorvil run across the deck of the Gustfin with Hymn in her arms before she cleared her throat, turned back to Phoxene, and remembered what she had to do. Phoxene rubbed her forearms while they clicked.

“I’ve been thinking.” Gale stepped closer to Phoxene but that only caused her to take a step back. “How about we go on a date?”

Phoxene tore her eyes off her arms to stare at her. At first, Gale expected her to do more than that, to speak, but no for a long time, Phoxene merely stared at her, blinked, and went right back to staring. Gale swore she could hear beetles scurrying across the deck.

The wind played with her clothes and Phoxene’s unkempt hair. She coughed and considered whether she should give up on fame altogether. Fate’s demands to fulfill her dream were rather unreasonable, and she didn’t know how long she could keep up this staring contest with Phoxene.

“Did you hear what I—“

“My body hurts after what you did to me, and I think you left a bite mark at the top of my back,” Phoxene said, and tried to get a glimpse of she mark she mentioned by twisting her head. “If you wish, I’ll bring us close to a town next, as soon as I can jump again, and you can find some whore there to date.”

“I don’t think that’s how they work…”

“And I don’t care.” Phoxene grimaced. “Leave me alone to mend my shackles. If you wish to be of use to anyone, you can tell your twin and Iorvil I’ll be leaving soon. If they’re not on my ship, they’ll be left behind. Or better yet, pack their things and leave with them.”

She couldn’t allow Phoxene to leave, so she had to think of something to encourage her to stay in this place until a day had passed. “How are you this unfriendly? I only want to befriend you, and you’re—“

“Anyone who claims to be your friend is only looking out for themselves.” Phoxene sighed, stretched her arms, and reclined against the railing in the stern. “Friendship shouldn’t have to be affirmed with words.”

“I love you…?” The words tasted phony on her tongue, and they must sound worse.

Phoxene gritted her teeth. “What is it you want, Gale? Speak honestly, I’ll listen. I’ll even consider your request, but do not insult my intelligence.”

“I…” Gale scratched her neck. If she’d been smarter, she would have wrapped Phoxene around her pinkie. She’d heard of seductive women who could do that. Pirates liked to tell tales about them, and regardless of how some of them had almost gotten killed during their encounters, the pirates had still spoken about them with a sense of nostalgia.

“I’ll think better of you if you’re honest.” Phoxene pushed her chest forward and  turned her head just right so the wind picked up her hair and made her look quite dreamlike with the rolling hills behind her. “I might even reward you for your decency. If you tell me what you hope to accomplish, I’ll think of leaving the ship for a stroll by the lake with you.”

“My goddess…” She bit her tongue. Judging by the expression on Phoxene’s face, she shouldn’t even had admitted that much.

“The gods do not get to make demands of me.” Phoxene tapped her index finger against her lips. “But maybe they do of you? Are you an obedient follower, Gale? I thought you were a courageous singer. Someone who would spit in the face of Thotrix and Rhabour if they angered her. Someone worth spending a night with. Was I mistaken?”

“I’d totally do that!” Gale shouted, louder than she’d meant to. She waited for Fate or Furore to strike her down, but no bolt of lightning appeared out of the clear sky.

“Would you?” Phoxene smiled at her from between the locks of her hair. “Then, logically, shouldn’t your first act of defiance be to tell me the truth? They wouldn’t want that, would they? I believe the first woman who stood up to the gods successfully would go down in history as more than a singer. As a hero.”

Phoxene encouraged her to see two different paths. One where she obeyed Fate, and the goddess gave her everything she thought she deserved. Another where she disobeyed and claimed whatever ought to belong to her through force of personality.

“While you ponder whether you should do the right thing or not, if I may be so bold, could you…” Phoxene pushed her breasts together, so they threatened to pop out of her gown. “Bite me where I can see the mark?”

“My goddess asked me to convince you to stay here, for a day!” She blurted out. The words may as well have acquired a will of their own, because she’d not intended to confess them as readily as she had.

“And why is that?” Phoxene straightened her back, stopped pushing her breasts together, and pulled her hair out of her face when the wind switched directions. “Did she tell you, or do you obey every command given to you without thought? You’d make a perfect machine, if you do.”

“She promised she’d make me famous…” Gale understood she’d been tricked, but she didn’t think she’d missed out on anything. She’d already left enough marks on Phoxene. And maybe this was the right path. Her mothers had done everything Furore wanted and more, and they’d almost gotten killed before they’d built their tavern. “If I kept you distracted here for a day and returned you to the empire.”

“A day, you say?”

Gale nodded. “Yes.”

Phoxene stood silent, once more, and stared out across the lake while lost in thought. “A day is no time. If I warn Iorvil, we might be prepared for a confrontation with the empire. I could run, again, but if a goddess brought us here through influence of bad luck, she might drop us in the middle of their capital next. I’m dead then.”

“So…” Gale breathed out in relief, elated, because she didn’t have to betray anyone. “How about that walk by the lake?”

Phoxene watched her like she thought of her as a weird creature from another realm. “Let’s fuck and feast. I believe that’s what Iorvil and her brethren would have done to pass time. Those would have been my people’s customs, if I hadn’t been enslaved. I’m not a romantic, Gale.”

“I could sort of tell from the staring…”

“You could? My heart pounded so, so hard in my chest at the sight of your beauty that I couldn’t focus long enough to formulate a response unless I calmed myself.” Phoxene battered her eyelashes. “I’m sorry if it caught you off guard.”

“Really…?”

“No, daft girl, it did not.” Phoxene interlinked their arms, lead her away from the stern toward the nearest staircase.

“But you do find me attractive?” She couldn’t recall anyone complimenting her appearance like Phoxene had just done. Most of the compliments she’d received had been slurred at her by drunkards, and they weren’t very charming.

“You’re not repulsive to behold. I make do with what I’ve got. Never thought I’d value the company of another woman, but you’ve proved hardy and full of energy. A goat that never quits.”

“Thank you...?” Gale supposed the compliment hadn’t been slurred at her.

“You’re welcome.” Phoxene grinned.

Gone

Late at night while Iorvil shared a bed with Hymn and watched her lover sleep, Phoxene descended the creaking stairs, whistled, and waved for her to come. Since she didn’t trust the woman, she grabbed her axe on her way out, but she didn’t wake Hymn.

If someone managed to sleep on the Gustfin, they might all be able to take advantage of it. Gale seemed to suffer from some affliction. Phoxene was surely plotting something, especially if she needed her in the middle of the night. And Iorvil couldn’t get a wink of shuteye if she had to share a bed with Hymn.

It had proved impossible. Due in no small part to how thin the beds were, but also because Hymn made her worry for someone else in a way she hadn’t before. What if something happened before she got the twins home? What if she did get the twins home and Hymn returned to her normal life like nothing had transpired between the two of them? What if… Her mind refused to cease its endless stream of unfortunate scenarios.

“I have to warn you,” Phoxene whispered when she stepped into the dining hall. “Gale has betrayed us. She made a deal with her goddess to return me to the empire.“

“Sounds like she’s betrayed you.” Iorvil picked a chair up from the floor, brushed dust off its seat, and sat. “Or are we brethren now that it suits you, Phoxene?”

“Would Rhabour appreciate it if you took this tone with your sister?”

Iorvil crossed her arms. Phoxene leaned against the wall by the staircase, fidgeted, and waited for an answer. She knew she shouldn’t trust Phoxene, not after what she’d done during their first meeting, but she couldn’t claim she believed she should trust Gale either. If anything, it seemed likelier they’d work together to betray her and Hymn. And even then, Gale wouldn’t do it if she loved her twin.

“How did you discover she’s betrayed us?” Iorvil asked. If she’d shouldered the mantel of Rhabour’s champion, she had to shoulder the responsibility that came with it too.

“She told me.”

“She told you? Gale’s betrayed us, and she tells you?”

Phoxene grinned, waved her hand dismissively. “What do you expect? She’s a daft girl. She doesn’t know her tails from her horns. Even if she’s an adorable dreamer, she’ll get us all killed if we’re not careful. If we do not prepare to meet this challenge.”

“I don’t trust you either.” Iorvil lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “I could describe you in unfavourable terms too, and it wouldn’t make you look smarter than Gale. You got captured.”

“As a child!” Phoxene gasped. “How can you put that on—“

“I’m not blaming you. I’m telling you to speak kinder about our guests. You don’t know what the circles have forced on them. Why are you so sure it’s worse than what you’ve endured?”

“I…” Phoxene thought for a while before she pursed her lips. “Point taken. And I’m sorry. Gale did not betray us.”

“You’ll want to make up your mind about whether she did or not, or I’m going to suspect you’re lying.”

“I am. I lied.” Phoxene massaged her wrists. “I convinced her not to betray us. To make a stand against the gods who’s pushed me around my entire life. But I need your help, or I’m going to become a victim again. I appreciate what you did for me when you freed me. I should have thanked you earlier.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank our brothers and sisters who lost their lives trying to save you. Their blood has seeped into the wood by now, and they may have been reborn, but they’re with us in spirit.”

“Right. I’ll…” Phoxene looked at the stains on the deck. “I’d prefer to do that alone, in my own way. About the gods…”

“What god are we talking about? The goddess of love?”

“I assume.”

“Why would she come for you? They told me it’s bad luck to talk about her, but I don’t think that’s reason to worry.”

“She could have allied herself with Thotrix.”

Iorvil winced at the idea. Rhabour needed help from other gods, if anyone, not Thotrix. No, they needed to lose their powers for what they’d done to her people. Evil would flourish as long as gods like Thotrix went unchallenged.

“I don’t think I can protect anyone from a god, even if I’d die for you as your sister and champion.”

“No need to die, I suspect. Everyone in the empire knows Thotrix wouldn’t lift a finger for them. If they mess up, lose a machine like me, they’ll have to retrieve it themselves or face the wrath of a god.” Phoxene threaded a hand through her hair. “We’d face the soldiers of the empire before anyone’s god, and we could handle those, couldn’t we?”

“Possibly.”

She’d left herself open by spending too much time with Hymn. If Thotrix’s servants showed up in full force at the wrong time, they’d get annihilated. She’d weakened those she’d sworn to protect, and now she would weaken them further if she didn’t prepare for a potential ambush. Gale may pose a risk.

Dream of Goodbye

Hymn walked the streets she’d visited thousands of times in reality and dream. Caelora appeared prosperous, though a number of the buildings showed wear and tear she’d not noticed in the past. The wind had left its mark on the wood after who knew how long. The ocean would consume them all one day, the village would slide back into the abyss.

But she’d not been gone for decades yet, so it unnerved her that Caelora had aged without her. She would not abandon her home. She would do everything in her power to return, soon. The village best not rot in her absence.

“Time changes everything.”

She turned towards the calming voice and discovered a wizened man, in a robe, with a long grey beard seated on a bench outside of someone’s home. She thought she recognized the house, but she didn’t think it was supposed to stand where it did. The dream may have changed its location.

“You could blame me for that, if you wish,” he said. “Time.”

“Who are you?” She didn’t need him to answer the question. “…Rhabour?”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out. I may soon be no more than another dead god.” Rhabour rose to his feet, grabbed a gnarled cane out of the ether, and limped over to her. “I do thank you for giving me a chance, but I wouldn’t lie to you and say I think it’s the wisest choice.”

“It’s wiser than the alternative. My mothers were used and abused by a demon.”

Rhabour smiled, and in his eyes, she could see the darkness of centuries of suffering and decay. It lent him an air of understanding, he’d seen worse than anything she could describe. “Does your mothers think of it like that, Hymn? Or do they think they got off lucky? You’ve not lived in Lho Allanar, as they have. It’s not a nice place. Its people are cruel, emotional.”

“Have you been there?”

“Oh yes, both in the original city and in the resurrected disorder.” He chuckled. “No one can save that which doesn’t wish to be saved. Mortals do have free will.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t?” She frowned. “If I couldn’t think for myself, I’d follow my goddess. I wouldn’t have an interest in helping you or Iorvil.”

“How can you be so sure?” Rhabour poked the tip of his cane into her elbow. “If Furore had chosen Iorvil to be your true love, your one love, wouldn’t you have taken an interest in her faith? Wouldn’t you have helped?”

She tapped her foot against the dirt. “I guess. So I guess I don’t know if I have free will, or if it’s something you gods like to make mortals believe.”

“Who knows?” Rhabour leaned on his cane. “If you wish, we can have that philosophical discussion another day. Another time. Tonight, I wanted to show you what I am. I’m not strong enough to demonstrate my power to any greater extent in reality, but I can do it in this dream we share.”

He extended a bony hand in front of himself, twisted it against the sun, and caused familiar faces to rush across the streets, in and out of houses, at a speed that should be impossible. She recoiled when one elf walked straight through her. The sun and moon rolled past on the sky above, the god of time controlled the movement of night and day.

“Why?”

“Because I can?” Rhabour smiled, lowered his hand so everyone came to an abrupt crawl at once. “Because I’d like you to understand what you’re getting involved in. Love is a mercy compared to time. Love gives me meaning.”

“I’m not disagreeing.” She ruffled the hair of the nearest man, but he didn’t react. He kept walking slowly towards his destination. “I wanted love. Marriage. Children. Before Gale dragged me into this adventure of hers, I thought I could find someone dull to take as a husband, and the goddess would never notice my existence. Now I fear she watches my every move.”

“You might have angered her when you abandoned her for the first god that seemed a better alternative.”

“If Gale hadn’t been Gale, none of this would have happened. I would have lived my entire life in Caelora. I would have died satisfied.”

“Is that so?” Rhabour raised his hand again, twisted it in the other direction, and suddenly, everyone walked backward faster and faster until they whisked past her. “How far do you think we need to go to discover the truth?”

“The truth?”

Rhabour snapped his fingers. Caelora disappeared replaced by a familiar room from her childhood. Two beds stood on opposite sides of a window. Night reigned outside, a candle flickered on the windowsill.

Her heart sank in her chest when she heard Gale sobbing under the covers in the bed to the right of the window. They hadn’t shared a room since they’d been children. Hymn had found it unbearable to share a room with her, back then, because she would either stay up all night or steal her clothes. They hadn’t needed to share their dresses, but Gale didn’t listen. She’d loved to wear clothes Hymn had worn first.

“You may have lost this memory to time, but well…” Rhabour grinned at her, as if he’d thought of a brilliant joke. “I haven’t.”

She had many memories of her childhood with her twin, but few that fit this particular moment. They’d spent days and nights together. Uncountable hours had indeed been lost to time, but she still had Gale. She didn’t have to reminisce when her twin rarely ever left her side. She’d often felt like she wasn’t given space to breathe.

A younger version of her opened the door to the bedroom, hurried over to Gale without running, and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Mother says that you shouldn’t cry, and that I should apologize.”

Gale pulled the covers away from her head, blinked, and dried her eyes on her blankets even as tears continued to flow. Why couldn’t she remember this night? What had she done that had made Gale sad?

“No.” Gale sniffled. “Shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Your voice is… great,” the younger Hymn said, put her hands in her lap, and glared at the floor while she forced an apology that Hope must have helped her formulate. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you singing. I do when you do it at a reasonable hour, but this is the middle of the night. I can’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hope said I should apologize first!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now you’re saying it to tease me!”

“I’m not.” Gale hid behind her blankets. “Promise.”

“I love you, but you’re a dirty liar.”

“I’m not dirty.” Gale began sobbing loudly again. “And you don’t love me. You only say that because of Hope. You’d never talk with me if it wasn’t for your mother.”

The younger Hymn opened her mouth to speak, said nothing, and crawled across the bed to Gale. When she sat next to her twin, she threw her arms around her, hugged her a little too hard, and silenced her sobs.

“You’ll be a great singer, if you don’t sing while I sleep, and then I’ll be cheering for you like we cheered for that funny jester last week. Everyone will know your name, they’ll travel across the sea to hear you.”

“Really?”

“But only if you don’t sing while I sleep. Only then.”

While they made up and fell asleep in the same bed, Hymn understood why Rhabour had decided to show her these minutes from all the years they’d shared. They’d supported each through thick and thin, grown into women, yet to time this might be one of their most important moments. She may have forgotten it, but now she found it precious.

In a way, even if hadn’t occurred to her, she’d inspired Gale to become a greater nuisance. She had no one else to blame than herself. But what had she been supposed to do? Tear her twin down? All the time? No, she didn’t mind teasing Gale, but she didn’t want to break her spirit. She’d sooner injure herself.

“Seeds.” Rhabour snapped his fingers and transported them into the street once more. “While they may grow together, they may not stay in the same soil forever. If you dedicate yourself to time, you might part ways with your twin.”

“I’ve known there was a chance we’d split for years now.”

“If you do, there’s a chance you’ll not see each other again until you’re reborn, and if she’s a follower of love, she might not be reborn.” Rhabour laid a hand on her arm. “I don’t want you to have regrets about choosing me.”

“I...”

“I do though, cause then you’ll come crawling back to me!” Furore appeared out of nowhere and slammed her hands on Hymn’s shoulders.

She woke with a start, screamed in terror. It was far from the first time she’d stumbled upon the goddess in a nightmare, but she’d falsely believed Rhabour would protect her from her influence. If he wouldn’t do that, what did she gain on siding with him? She needed protection. They all did. Only a madman would side with love.

“A nightmare?” Gale poked her head up out of the hold and rubbed her eyes. “Hasn’t Iorvil chased those off?”

“Clearly not!”

“You don’t have to yell Hymn.” Gale climbed out of the hold, came over to her, and sat down to offer her a comforting hug. “I’m here for you, like I always said I’d be. If someone’s hurt you, I’ll hurt them.”

Hymn fell into her twin’s open arms, shut her eyes, and relaxed. Furore could hurt her, no doubt, but she was more afraid that she’d use her as a puppet. And what if she didn’t settle for toying with her? What if she went after Hope and Venviel again? Gale? Art?

“I don’t think I should spend time with Iorvil,” Hymn said. “I don’t want to know what love has in store for us. If I have free will, I’d sooner worship Rhabour on my own in Caelora.”

“She’d listen if you told her.” Gale yawned and seemed to doze off for a second or two. “And love can’t be as terrible as you make it out to be.”

“I don’t want to know how terrible it is.”

“I get it.”

Hymn could have sworn Gale fell asleep, while they hugged, until a loud crash resounded from one of the decks above, and Iorvil called their names.

Trivial

Iorvil had gone up to the top deck to consider what to do about Gale when a bright, glowing star fell out of the night sky and landed in the middle of the Gustfin with a crash that staggered her.

“Hymn, Phoxene, Gale!” She shouted and shielded her eyes from the intense light.

Her three companions soon rushed up on deck though Gale had forgotten to put on a shirt. She only wore underclothes and pants, but at least she’d brought her rapier. The bright glow faded somewhat from whatever had fallen out of the sky, yet no one was too eager to approach it.

“Empire mischief,” Phoxene muttered.

Iorvil would have agreed with her, but the bright glow vanished entirely, and a statue made of gold that was twice as tall as her stepped forth. Even among her brethren, she’d been taller than most, so it was a strange experience to stand at the foot of a woman that dwarfed her in size.

“Betrayal,” the golden statue said and pursed her lips. “An easy matter. Take the knife you’re given, stab it in your friend. Done. Who messes up betrayal?”

“We’d never betray each other,” Hymn said but couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Phoxene. Not for a second did she think her twin might have entertained the idea to betray them. Not for a second did she glance at Gale.

“The daft girl would have betrayed everyone if I’d not persuaded her with my tits.” Phoxene stated and glared at Hymn when she noticed her glances. “Thank me for saving your life and hopeless, little romance. If not for me, you’d die untouched.”

“Daft girl…?” Hymn repeated, as if she needed a moment to think on who their fifth member might be.

“I didn’t betray anyone in the end, goddess,” Gale said and stepped in front of her twin to shield her from the statue. “And I wouldn’t have betrayed Hymn either. At worst, I would have given up Phoxene. She’s—”

“Expendable?” Iorvil freed her axe from her belt, gripped the holy symbol around her neck, and did what she’d sworn to do after her fellow warriors had died taking the Gustfin. She shielded Phoxene by stepping between her, the statue, and the twins.

Gale looked at her with a mix of fear and amusement, but she’d called the statue goddess, so Iorvil had to assume the new arrival was the goddess of love. And that Gale would do whatever she asked.

She’d weakened herself when she’d been seduced by Hymn, and even if Hymn hadn’t been in on her twin’s betrayal, she ought to take responsibility. Or beg for forgiveness on her behalf, if Gale didn’t intend to do it. How could anyone expect her to trust either of them until they explained this?

“Iorvil?” Hymn took a step backward. Gale unsheathed her rapier from its scabbard. “What are you doing?”

“I’m protecting—“

“Squabbling.” The goddess groaned. “Mortals squabble. One god says this, one god says that, so you jump each other. Sometimes with swords, sometimes naked. Trite. Tiresome. Never-ending.”

“We—“

“Enough.” The goddess didn’t shout, yet the words echoed across the hills and spooked every nearby bird out of their nests. “I’ll put an end to Rhabour’s old war for Thotrix before his champion starts another.”

“I wouldn’t have killed anyone unless—”

Iorvil didn’t get a chance to finish. One second she stood on the deck of the Gustfin with the others, the next she found herself among barrels in a dusty warehouse somewhere. Sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the walls. The goddess had only transported Gale alongside her, and she still pointed her rapier at Iorvil.

“We don’t have to fight.” Iorvil lowered her axe.

“Don’t we?” Gale smirked. “I believe you planned to kill me and my twin, and I might sooner die than see you two reunited now.”

“You would have sold us all to the empire as slaves if your goddess had told you to.” Iorvil scoffed and hung her axe back in the belt around her waist. She could disarm Gale with her fists, if necessary. “Seems Hymn was correct, even if you’re a liar. Mentioning love does bring her down on your head.”

“That wasn’t love.”

“No?” Iorvil kept an eye on Gale while she stepped up to the nearest wall and searched for a crack large enough to give her a glimpse of the outside. “If it wasn’t love, who was it? Did you shout for every god to help you until one answered the call?”

“Fate.” Gale sheathed her rapier and approached the door on the opposite end of the warehouse. “And no, for your information, I did not seek her out. Fate came to me in a dream to tell me she would make me famous if I distracted the doll.”

“Why?” Iorvil looked through a crack the size of her thumb. She could tell they’d been transported through space yet again, but she’d been mistaken when she’d thought the light outside belonged to the sun.

Strong lanterns on metal rods illuminated the streets while women and men in exquisite browns and greys rode in carriages pulled by horses. She’d only seen the empire’s architecture a few times before, but she couldn’t mistake the rectangular buildings for anyone else’s. No one would build such dull towns on purpose. The buildings along the street all copied each other down to the smallest detail, yet Thotrix’s servants took great pride in their accomplishments.

“Don’t open the door!” She hissed at Gale when she remembered she wasn’t alone. “Your goddess left us in the middle of the empire.”

“Why would she do that?” Gale snorted but followed her example, found a crack in the warehouse wall, and pressed her face against it to look outside.

“If we didn’t kill each other, I imagine she expected Thotrix’s servants to finish us.”

Iorvil stroked the sharp edges of her axe, prayed Rhabour would forgive her for her failure. She could bust out into the streets, and cut down Thotrix’s servants one by one, but she wouldn’t get out alive. They would kill her, she would never let herself get captured alive. She would die like her brethren, and the god of time would die with her. At best, he might live on through Hymn or Phoxene, but she doubted it. She’d made such a horrible mistake when flirting with love that they would call it a sin in the future.

Moonlight Shadow

“Are you going to allow her to do whatever she wants?” Rhabour asked, lifted his furred head, and exhaled a plume of smoke through his nose.

The butterflies around him smattered their wings, died in the smoke, and reappeared out of the ground in the pink oasis. She wouldn’t mind creating a haven of her own on the moon, one day, if Rhabour gave her permission.

“To be fair, I thought I’d calmed Fate’s crazy heart.” Furore stroked her thighs and wondered when she’d next have the golden woman in her lap. “Thought I could contain the worst of her, but it seems her meeting with Thotrix loosened a couple of screws.”

“She’s not what I recall, but if she’s anything like she was a millennia ago, she will not relent.” Rhabour let out a long sigh. “She doesn’t have to bow to anyone when there’ll always be mortals who believe they can alter their destiny with their own two hands.”

“Shame about the free will, eh.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if Fate had given them that to shake things up.” Rhabour sounded ready to give up and pass on. “How can they bore her? They’re wonderful. I’ve met millions of them, yet someone always surprises me. The twins, for example.”

“They’re my creation.” Furore grinned, proudly.

“They’re the creation of your influence, but they’re not yours. They belong to their mothers, their village, and the years they’ve lived.”

“If you want to get needlessly specific.”

“You do have a splendid opportunity to assist them and bridge the divide between you.”

She scratched her head, tilted her head to the side. “Neither of them wants to follow me, any longer, as you ought to know. I don’t mind you stealing Hymn, by the way. If it’d give you the determination to carry on, I’d offer another thousand from Lho Allanar.”

“Are you solely the goddess of romantic love?”

“No?”

“There are ways to undermine other gods without them becoming wise of the fact.”

Rhabour gave her an idea, but Furore hadn’t truly leaned into the other aspects of love before. She reached out for Hymn and Gale, and while they may have preferred to guard their hearts from her influence, they’d left themselves open by loving each other. They shared a deep bond no other god could affect like she could.

She pictured their souls, their hearts, in front of her above the moon’s surface, and then she lifted a finger and drew a line between the two to give them what they should have had from the beginning. They would always be hers, regardless of how far they strayed from their origin.

For the Greater Good

Gale despised Iorvil. She may have a pretty face and bulging muscles, but she’d only used those to hide her true intentions. How could she ever leave Hymn alone with her again after she’d pulled an axe on them?

She didn’t care if Iorvil killed her. Yet if she as much as touched Hymn the wrong way, she’d headbutt her. She’d never impaled anyone on her horns, but if she angled them correctly, she figured she could. Of course, she had Venviel’s rapier too, but it wouldn’t be as personal to kill Iorvil with a blade compared to her horns.

“You could always beg your goddess for help again. If you convince her you’ll betray me, she might listen too,” Iorvil said, sarcastically, and flicked the medallion around her neck. “Thotrix will want all followers of Rhabour dead.”

“You’re the last, aren’t you? It seems like I could…” Gale trailed off when an invisible spike shot through her, left her reeling in pain, and made her aware of another’s presence within.

She swore she could hear Hymn’s voice, through the thuds of her heart, but she couldn’t discern the words her twin said. It sounded like they were uttered while she held her head underwater.

The bond pulled her east, encouraged her to leave their hiding place, and seek out her twin which it assured her wasn’t far away at all. They may not stand a chance on their own, but together, they’d always been strong. They could stand up to the empire. They didn’t have to hide in different places in the same city.

“I know where my twin is,” Gale said, tried the handle to the door, and pushed it open. “I’m going to find her.”

“No.” Iorvil shook her head. “It would be suicide.”

“I don’t have a problem with dying as long as I get to do it in a spectacular fashion.”

Iorvil cricked her neck, gripped her axe. “Then we’re not that different, I guess.”

“I suggest we start with the subtle approach.” Gale considered pulling the door shut again before Iorvil could start murdering people in the street. “If it fails, if we stumble upon soldiers of the empire, we kill those. But we don’t cause a commotion for no reason.”

“Rhabour would have wanted it.”

“Would he?”

Iorvil stopped next to her, put her hand on the door, and sighed. “No, of course not, but it would have been gratifying to get revenge for the friends I lost.”

“According to some of the ballads I sing, you’d be better off biding your time, amassing strength, and unleashing it when they least expect it.” Gale missed her lute. If nothing else, she’d like to return to Caelora to fetch it. “You’d deal a greater blow to Thotrix and the empire.”

“Let’s see if we survive this first.” Iorvil pushed the door open. No one appeared to be on the street right outside at the moment, but Gale could hear chatter and movement everywhere around them. “After you.”

Free

The gods toyed with them to amuse themselves. Hymn refused to look at it any other way. If the new goddess hadn’t gotten involved, Gale would not have attempted to betray Phoxene, and they would not have gotten separated. She would have had her twin by her side.

Instead, she stood in the hallway on the second floor of someone’s home surrounded by dour portraits, and bouquets in pots, where snoring emanated from closed doors. She would have believed Phoxene if she’d told her they were inside a store which sold flowers. She had to fight not to sneeze in the wake of all the various scents.

“Don’t be alarmed, but I fear we find ourselves in the capital of the empire,” Phoxene whispered from the window. “I suggest we—“

“Why should I listen to you? I could find my own way, home, somehow. You’re an escaped prisoner. I’m sure they want you back, but they’ve no reason to bother me. They might be civilized compared to you.”

Phoxene grabbed Hymn’s hand and raised it in front of her face. “You’re green, Hopeless. They’ll want to study you because of your skin and your tail. The empire finds a use for everyone, whether the individual likes what they do to them or not.”

“Don’t touch me.” Hymn pulled her hand out of Phoxene’s grasp. She didn’t like the woman. In fact, she’d disliked her since they’d first met. She’d definitely known Phoxene would try to steal her twin from her. “I don’t need your help. I can get out of this city, if I stay in the shadows. How far can it be to the nearest border?”

“Weeks?” Phoxene fiddled with the window, unlatched it with a click, and began to slide it open. “Stay here if you wish, Hopeless, but I’m leaving. Best of luck. You’ll need it without me or Iorvil. You’ve no clue what the empire is like.”

She didn’t, but she’d gotten a taste of what kind of people Phoxene and Iorvil were. If all the faithful of Rhabour were like them, maybe there would be a sensible explanation for why two different groups of worshippers had ended up in a war that hadn’t reached a resolution before one side had been wiped out.

She hadn’t believed her eyes when Iorvil had drawn her axe on them and shielded Phoxene, as if the sly woman needed protection. Her mothers had taught her better than to fall headfirst for the first remarkable person that landed in her life. Or she wouldn’t have rejected the teachings of love, and prayed the goddess would never bother her and that she would be given reprieve and a normal husband.

Iorvil posed a threat to her, her twin, and her family. She shouldn’t have reached for the sky when she could have married the first respectable man in Caelora. For so long, for years, she’d walked around thinking she would find someone one day, but she’d just rejected every nearby candidate.

Love had made her fear them too, but at least now she didn’t have to pretend she wanted it. Could anyone promise her that she’d be safe with them for life? No, so it was simple. She had to abandon love altogether and stop hoping someone would make the dreaded experience better.

“Have a nice, albeit short, life.” Phoxene slipped out of the window and disappeared.

“Wait…” Hymn didn’t like having to rely on someone like Phoxene, yet she had to make a choice fast if she didn’t want to find herself alone in an unfamiliar country.

Phoxene didn’t respond, voices could be heard from one of the rooms. The snoring had ceased. Hymn cursed silently to herself, climbed into the window, and followed her deceitful guide onto the ledge outside lest she get out alive without her. She liked the idea of Phoxene surviving, while she died, even less than the woman.

“Hello, Hopeless.” Phoxene smirked, nodded toward the ground, and gave Hymn a fear of heights.

She pressed her back and arms against the wall of the excessively tall building. She’d no idea why she’d assumed they were on the second floor, but they weren’t. At least twenty meters of nothing but air existed between them and the paved street. If she fell, she’d splatter like a ripe tomato across the ground, stain the stone walls of the homes with her blood, and cease to exist.

“Careful now, you shouldn’t look down.” Phoxene laughed. “It might make you freeze up in fear, and then where will you be?”

“You could have warned me before I stepped outside.” Hymn noticed Phoxene moving away from her along the ledge, but she didn’t want to take another step. Their footing was far too treacherous. What if the ledge cracked under her foot while she walked? What if she fell?

“I thought you would take your chances with the empire.” Phoxene stretched her right foot out over the abyss for no apparent reason. She only wished to scare her. “However, if you want my help, you best hurry your clumsy feet. I can’t wait for you forever. I need to find another airship and get back in the skies.”

“Fine…” Hymn pondered if she should shut her eyes to slide faster along the ledge, once she began to move, but that would make it impossible for her to see where she put her feet. She wouldn’t have to watch her surroundings if she fell at least, but then, why miss out on the final seconds of her life?

A sharp pain shot through her like hot iron, forced a gasp out of her lungs, and made her teeter on the edge. She became aware of someone in the distance, a presence, which seemed more familiar to her than anything in the world. Gale. She could practically see her face in front of her, painted across the windows and wall on the building across the street.

“If your heart stops, don’t shriek,” Phoxene said. “It will alert the inhabitants of these homes to your presence, and they might spot me. If you’re going to die, show some concern for those of us who will live.”

“I’ll not die before you, you ass.” Hymn wished she’d brought a weapon with her, so she could have taught Phoxene a lesson, or protected herself if they were discovered, but she’d not had the foresight.

“Don’t take that tone with me, or I’ll hold you accountable for getting us into this mess. Without your twin, we would have been fine. I would never have made a bargain with a god.” Phoxene slammed one of her arms into the wall, so it emitted repetitive clicks. “Willingly.”

Hymn focused on Gale’s presence to see her out of danger. If anyone would defend her at the risk of their own life, it was her twin. Not one of these brutes she’d only met days ago.

Fall From Grace

“Where are we…” Gale let out a whistle at the sight of the bridge in front of them.

Thotrix’s servants had constructed it out of metal and incorporated brass cogs into its design, although they seemed to serve no practical purpose. The bridge allowed the inhabitants of the city to traverse the raging river that cut the outskirts off from the center of the city.

“We might be in the empire’s capital, Broken Shield, but I’ve never visited the capital, so who knows? Phoxene could tell you, if she was here.”

Iorvil watched their backs while the shirtless twin she’d been left with stared ahead of them with dreamy eyes. The architecture of the city transformed into a terror to behold the closer they got to its center. Tall towers spewed out smoke while wall after wall seemed to house homes. She could see windows built into what she would have thought were defensive battlements in another country.

Even if she wasn’t certain whether they were in the capital of the empire or not, she could tell they were deep behind the empire’s borders. Somehow, they’d avoided capture so far by staying in the shadows, but she doubted they would get past the guards on the other side of the bridge unnoticed.

“Hymn is coming closer, but she’s in trouble,” Gale said, pressed the palm of her hand against the spot above her heart, and stroked her skin. “What if she doesn’t survive? She might die before we meet again, and then what’ll I do? Waste my life on you? I don’t want to feel my twin’s feelings when she’s scared and alone. This is awful…”

“Calm yourself. Hymn will...” Iorvil laid her hand on Gale’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

“Hymn is my twin, and you pulled an axe on her after you said you’d protect anyone who worshipped your god.”

Gale shot her a nasty glare, and because of their similarities, she couldn’t miss Hymn in her features. She would have loved to have an excuse, or even an explanation, for her behaviour, but she might have made a mistake. Rhabour would hold her accountable, for what she’d done when she’d threatened one of his faithful.

The sudden appearance of another deity had rattled her, but she hadn’t needed to pick sides. She should have stood still like a mountain in the middle until everyone had gotten their time to make their arguments. Yet she hadn’t. She’d skipped several steps of a trial and arrived at verdict.

“I—”

“Save it for my twin, if she plans to listen.” Gale looked her over from top to toe. “I should have gone to bed with you to protect her. You’re no better than Phoxene. You’re self-righteous and judgmental because some god gave you a pretty necklace. I spit on you.”

Gale didn’t actually spit on her. She spun around on her heel, hummed an upbeat tune, and approached the bridge without fear. The guards on the other side would notice her soon, if they hadn’t already, and when they saw how strange she looked, they would sound the alarm. They would not welcome spirit-like mortals into their city. While they might mistake Gale for a goddess at first glance, they wouldn’t have the desire to follow anyone else than Thotrix.

“Come back,” Iorvil hissed. “There has to be a better place to cross the river than right here.”

“I’m not even fully dressed, and still, braver than you.” Gale waved nonchalantly before she put her foot on the bridge. “I’ll tell Hymn you weren’t her true love after all, so she doesn’t have to be terrified of falling for you.”

She’d known Hymn didn’t think much of love, but she didn’t know how to react to the revelation that she may have been terrified of falling in love with her. Hymn had joined her faith to support Rhabour, even though they’d been on their last leg from the moment they’d first met and nothing had changed.

Keeper Jerfell would have called her a worthy recruit, especially since she’d accepted Iorvil without hesitation. She’d not viewed her as a barbarian, nor had she jumped into bed with her at the first opportunity. She’d left it up to time.

Iorvil had made several mistakes when she’d pulled her axe on Hymn. She’d betrayed Rhabour, his faithful, and a woman who might grow to love her given more time. If she didn’t stand alongside her twin, she would never be able to meet Hymn in another lifetime and look her in the eye. She would be damned and shamed throughout every circle.

She hefted her axe in her hands, savoured its weight, and hurried to catch up with Gale on the bridge. “I trust you have a plan.”

“Leave it to me.”

Gale winked, unsheathed her rapier, and burst into song. Iorvil had listened to her sing on the Gustfin, but the depth of her voice hadn’t struck her as hard as it did when one of the guards left his post to sound the alarm.

Gale sung a grand ballad about love and loss of kings and queens of distant ages. About heroes who fell in battle to be mourned by those left behind, and orphaned children who grew up to become knights. About the rise and fall of death and despair. She wished she’d had Gale around when she’d stormed and taken the Gustfin with her brethren. The singer could have recorded them as more than bloodstains on an airship’s deck.

Maiden

“If you want my advice, not that it’s in my interest to get involved, but you appear incapable of making intelligent choices.”

“Thanks…” Hymn would have shoved Phoxene off the ledge if they’d been closer to each other, but the woman moved too fast toward the end of the building. The distance between them only grew. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need—“

“Iorvil defended you and your twin, even though we should have tossed you overboard. She grew up in the wild with a people that have been at war for decades. It’s understandable if she’s a bit jumpy when you betray her.”

“Okay. I didn’t—“

Phoxene lifted a finger to her mouth, shushed Hymn, and stopped when she reached the corner. For a second or two, she only listened. She didn’t speak. The city became very peaceful without Phoxene’s voice to ruin the scenery. The empire might have done everyone a favour if they’d cut her tongue.

Then, a horn bellowed throughout the capital, followed by another further away, and another. Hymn could sense Gale’s presence around the building. So close, yet so far. She’d no idea how they would get down to the ground.

If she listened, she thought she could hear her twin singing about angry men while she clashed with soldiers in plated armours. She could see Iorvil at her side, whenever she blinked. The giant defended Gale with her axe by cutting men’s limbs off.

Phoxene struggled to turn around on the narrow ledge, but eventually managed, pressed her stomach against the wall, and looked up towards the roof with an inquisitive gaze. She may be tall enough to reach the next ledge and the roof, but Hymn wasn’t.

“I hope my advice was useful,” Phoxene said but didn’t even look at her before she began to scale the wall like a monkey. “I won’t be enslaved by Thotrix again. Not in this life.”

Hymn hadn’t expected such a graceful, acrobatic display from a woman who was almost as tall as Iorvil, but Phoxene must have spent her entire life on an airship and developed her talent over years. She lost her grip once, reclaimed it, and in no time disappeared up onto the roof.

Hymn waited for her to return to help her but soon understood that Phoxene had abandoned her where she stood. She’d guided her out onto a narrow ledge, scared her by pointing out the ground, and in the end, she’d chosen to save herself. She didn’t care about anyone else. Not her, not Gale, and certainly not Iorvil.

She didn’t like the idea that she might become like Phoxene if she shielded her heart for too long against too much suffering, but in another timeline, she might have made the same choice. Why waste effort on people? Why help someone who was too weak to help themselves?

No, on second thought, she would never become Phoxene.

She approached the end of the building, glanced around the corner, and discovered the finale of the battle her twin and Iorvil had engaged in. Iorvil wiped her bloodied axe on the mantle on one of the four soldiers at her feet.

Gale said something to Iorvil, pointed up at her, and waved while bouncing on her feet. Hymn just nodded, since she refused to remove her hands from the wall. She still had no idea how to get down to the ground. Not a single ladder stood anywhere near her.

If she’d been as confident in her body’s natural agility as Phoxene, she might have jumped for the closest tower of the bridge and slid down along it, but she knew she would miss if she tried anything of the sort. Venviel should have trained them in this kind of activity too.

Iorvil hung her axe on her belt, walked over to the foot of the building below Hymn, and extended her arms. Hymn could not hear her, but if she thought she would jump from this height into her embrace, she had to have taken a serious blow to the head. Iorvil may be tall, but she wasn’t that tall.

Another horn bellowed, but this one belonged to the soldier at the front of the patrol that arrived on the far side of the bridge. Gale and Iorvil were surrounded. They couldn’t push deeper into the capital, since it was a question of time before new soldiers showed up to block off the streets. They had to cross the bridge again, or they wouldn’t get out. And she doubted they could defeat the growing number of soldiers which were starting to gather.

Gale stepped up next to Iorvil, extended her arms like the giant, and waved for Hymn to jump. She could see her twin’s grin, even in this dark scenario. Nothing could put a dent in her attitude, could it? They would die. If she’d known how to climb, she might have abandoned them to their fates like Phoxene had abandoned her.

No, she grimaced, disgusted. She couldn’t think like that. If either of them died, she would mourn them till her own end. She would never forgive herself if she fled when they needed her to put her faith in them.

They only asked her to step off the ledge and fall. She trusted Gale, but Gale wasn’t strong enough to catch her. She would crush her twin, without a doubt, and then she would be a stain next to another grinning stain on the street.

Even if they’d only met for the first time a few days ago, Hymn needed to put her trust in Iorvil. If Iorvil had told her she’d catch her, no questions asked, and gazed into her soul with her blue eyes, she would have known it to be true.

It wasn’t about love. They’d met again and again, danced around each other through timeline after timeline, and made something greater of Rhabour’s circles. If she believed in the new faith she’d chosen for herself, she’d step off the ledge and fall into her companion’s strong, familiar arms.

When a patrol of soldiers showed up on the same side of the bridge as Gale and Iorvil, she shut her eyes, removed her hands from the wall, and stepped out into the air. She fell, but one god needed her to live. Rhabour had to intervene in her fate.

All for Us

Gale stopped grinning the moment her twin fell. She may not have jumped off the building herself, yet the wind whistled in her ears, and Hymn’s heart raced inside her own. She experienced the same terrifying sensation her twin did while she watched her plummet.

She’d not been afraid when she’d walked across the bridge, not compared to how her heart stopped when it occurred to her that Hymn might die. And who would she share everything with then?

Iorvil ignored the arrival of more soldiers. She stepped forward, at the last moment, and embraced Hymn like she’d only stepped off a flight of stairs. The giant didn’t seem affected by the speed she’d picked up. The medallion around her neck glowed, but it was so brief that Gale might as well have imagined it.

“I’ve seen you before, in other circles.” Hymn caressed Iorvil’s chin, stared into her eyes. “I put my faith in time, and Rhabour lifted me down safely from the ledge.”

“If you say so.” Iorvil chuckled. “But that was crazy. Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

Gale may as well not exist when those two looked at each other like they did, but the encroaching soldiers did. They were surrounded. None of them knew the area, so either they surrendered and let themselves get captured, or someone did something foolish to provide them with an escape.

“You’ve seen me before too, right, twin?” Gale asked and flicked blood of her rapier. She’d never killed anyone before, but she would do it again under similar circumstances.

“We share a soul…” Hymn smiled, with her entire heart.

Yet Gale could see in her eyes that she didn’t think they had met in other lifetimes. That, for whatever reason, their shared path may end in this life. She knew her well enough, and she’d acquired that new, peculiar bond with her that allowed her to glimpse what her twin felt. There was a tinge of regret buried under overwhelming fondness.

She wasn’t planning on exchanging the goddess of love for time. She’d made a weak attempt to exchange her for Fate, and that hadn’t panned out well. Phoxene had the right idea. If she wanted to become famous, she had to make it happen herself.

“Go for the river.” Gale faced Iorvil, nodded towards the bridge. “I’ll distract them.”

“This was your plan…?” Iorvil’s face contorted in an expression of disbelief. “We’d drown.”

The soldiers on the same side of the bridge as them unsheathed their broadswords, held their round shields at the ready, and approached. They didn’t have time to argue.

“You might, Iorvil, but I’m betting on your muscles and giant body to carry my twin to safety.”

“I’d sooner die here with you than leave, Gale.” Hymn bored into her skull with her gaze, mouthed unspoken words, and reminded her of Hope. She wished she could have gotten a chance to say farewell to everyone.

She pointed her rapier at Hymn, backed toward the soldiers, and ducked Iorvil’s huge hand when she tried to grab her too. “How am I ever going to become famous if you keep getting in my way, baby sis?”

“We’re the same age!”

“According to Venviel, I’m a minute older.” Gale spun around, dodged the swing of a sword, and slid the tip of her thin rapier into the gap between a soldier’s helmet and his armour.

While he clawed at his neck, fell to his knees, she danced away from his slow compatriots and led them in the direction of the streets. The majority of them seemed confused, as if they lacked a leader to tell them whom to go after first.

“Don’t do this, Gale!” Hymn shrieked and tried to escape Iorvil’s arms. “I won’t forgive you!”

She’d made her twin angry on many, many occasions, but that shriek was different. New. Final.

“That’s okay…” Gale murmured to herself, curtsied to Hymn with a loving wink, and watched the woman dearest to her out of everyone in the world disappear behind the corner of a building. “I won’t forgive me either after dragging you into this mess.”

She could feel Hymn’s rage blend with their shared sorrow and her own intense desire for the future, even if she couldn’t see her, but she had to focus on parrying the few soldiers who were quick enough to catch up.

Their armours weighed them down to the point where she could escape with ease. Venviel had trained her well. She’d be proud.

Or at least she figured her mother would have been proud of her until she tripped over her own tail, landed on her back in the middle of the street, and swore.

The first soldier to reach her sliced into her leg, and made her bleed profusely while an unsettling cold overcame her, but she forced herself to hum to distract her cheerful mind from the void.

She’d never feared death in the past, so she shouldn’t do it now either. Maybe she wouldn’t become famous when she was made to bleed like a rabid dog in the streets of this foreign country, but Hymn would survive. She would carry her tale through her preposterous circles, wouldn’t she?

“No fame for the finest dame, in this waiting game…” She sang and tried to crawl behind a couple of barrels, another soldier thrust his sword into her waist. “But she might reclaim dignity from shame.”

The gods ought to mourn her because they’d never given their mortals the chance to enjoy her harrowing voice.

Cruel War

Iorvil would do what the fool asked of her. She could have shielded both Hymn and Gale, sacrificed herself for their sakes, but she supposed that didn’t matter when Gale rushed off to die alone. If she’d not watched her own brothers and sisters rush off to similar deaths, for the sake of those they cherished, she could have resented the woman for what she did to her twin. As it was, she only gained respect for her. They were not that different.

“Don’t leave her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s always been an idiot.” Hymn scratched at her leathers while her tears flowed, but Iorvil refused to let go off her too. She should have tied Gale to her with a rope.

“I’m sorry, Hymn, but in this case, I’ll obey someone else.”

Iorvil ran, carried her over to the bridge, and gazed down at the raging river. She wouldn’t get far without breaking several of her bones, but hopefully, Hymn would survive. Even if no one else did. She’d no idea where Phoxene had gone after the goddess had transported them all into the middle of the empire. If she was lucky, she’d been left on the Gustfin.

“Please…” Hymn sought eye contact with her through steady tears.

But Iorvil didn’t plan to start weeping too, and she would if the empire got Hymn. The majority of the soldiers may have turned their attention on Gale, but not all of them. They didn’t have long to make a decision if they planned to escape capture.

She hugged her partner, tighter than ever, and leapt off the bridge.

“Gale!” Hymn deafened her with a grief-stricken shriek.

They landed in the river. Iorvil had to fight to retain her hold on Hymn and curl up into a ball to shield her from every blow the rocks underneath the water dealt to them.

Crack after crack resounded through her bones, but if her only purpose in life at this point was to defend Hymn from nature itself, she would do it. She wouldn’t allow Gale’s sacrifice to be in vain.

She may not see Rhabour’s new beginning herself, but Hymn had everything she needed for all of them to live on, or she wouldn’t have survived stepping off that ledge.

When the river seemed to relent, she swam for the surface and gasped for air. She saw the sky and clouds above them, but not much else.

The currents tore her under again and threatened to free Hymn, but she strengthened her hold on the woman and refused to give anything less than utter resilience in the face of death.

A louder crack echoed in her skull.

She longed to plant a kiss on Hymn’s lips, and apologize, but she knew she couldn’t. She would become a ship of flesh and bone to carry her home. Time would bring Caelora’s lost daughter to the village’s shore. Even if it took him a decade or two, Iorvil prayed Rhabour would do it for her, and everyone else they’d lost. She’d made mistakes in her short service as his champion, but she’d given him everything she had since birth.

No Heavy Weather

Hymn tasted sand and salt water while a pleasant breeze caressed her battered body, yet beyond the meager tools the world used in a futile attempt to ease her loss, a numb pain had created a hole that would never heal.

“You’re home, I believe.” Iorvil kissed her cheek but remained limp next to her on the beach.

Seagulls squawked above. She recognized the sound of the waves in Caelora, but what difference did it make if she’d been returned home now? She could never face her mothers. If they didn’t drive her from the village, she would leave herself. She’d been forever marked by Gale’s sacrifice, and how unnecessary it had been.

“How…”

“Divine intervention, I’d guess.”

Well, the gods had taught her a lesson alright. No matter what length she went to to avoid or serve them, they would destroy her. They’d transformed her into a nice wreck. They should have sunk her to the bottom of the ocean like every other worthless vessel.

“I love you, but you shouldn’t have let Gale… I love you.” She emphasized love, twice, defiantly. If the goddess of love showed herself, Hymn would force her to kill her if she didn’t want to die herself.

“If you mean that, could you get me help? Any healer will do. I think I broke every bone in my body getting us through the river.”

Hymn sat up in the sand. By the look of her, Iorvil should have died. Legs and arms were not supposed to point in such unnatural directions. Not all at once. No one could survive whatever damage her beloved had taken.

She stumbled to her feet, gazed at the top of the cliffs of Caelora. Maybe if she screamed Hope or Venviel would hear her, but she didn’t want to meet them. They would have hundreds of questions, and each would bring them to the same answer. How did anyone expect her to break the news of her twin’s disappearance?

Since she couldn’t sense their short-lived bond anymore, she may as well tell everyone Gale had died. It might be easier to accept. No one would pray for her to return and accidentally bring the wrath of a bunch of immature children down on their heads.

“Time heals everything, except untreated bodily injuries.”

“I’m sorry…” Hymn sighed. “Will you be fine for an hour without me? I’m not certain how long it would take for me to climb the path to the village in this state.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve lived through worse.”

“I doubt you have.” Hymn looked at Iorvil’s broken body once more, shook her head, and trudged through the sand toward the cliff path with tears in her eyes. “I haven’t.”

Nonchalance

“You could have brought them home from the beginning.” Fate gnashed her teeth, her mouth set in a hard line, while they watched Caelora from a cloud.

“The experience wouldn’t have been as enriching for them.” Furore lifted her hand to stroke Fate’s back, but the goddess made her reconsider when she gnashed her teeth louder. “And Rhabour might have perished without Iorvil and Hymn.”

“One died.”

“Free will and all.” Furore drew her lower lip between her teeth. “What Gale did—“

Fate turned towards her and raised her hand, abruptly, yet she didn’t slap her. She stopped her shaking hand right before it struck her cheek. Furore hadn’t seen Fate as angry in the past, and she couldn’t tell why this death upset her so.

“What’s wrong, dear?” She asked after Fate shut her eyes and turned her back on her to sulk in silence.

“Dear. Funny you are.” Fate flapped her deer-like ears. “Brave to call me that to my face.”

“What…?”

“I like deer, so I made myself look like a deer, and so you call me deer. Not dear.”

She stifled her laughter lest it erupt into a giggle fit. She’d not encountered this side of Fate. It had not occurred to her that deer sounded the same as dear, and now that Fate had pointed it out, she had to resist teasing her with the homophones for the entirety they might spend together.

“We should do this more often.”

“You liked my mortal dying so much?”

“No, but you are irresistibly cute when you sulk.” Furore slipped her hand through the cloud, pulled it back to gain momentum, and brought it forward to smack Fate’s butt. “Yummy dear ass.” She’d not made it longer than a minute.

Fate wrestled her down on the cloud, gripped her wrists, and laid her golden figure on top of hers. “Spent years on Gale, which you threw away. My twin.”

“I didn’t know we split them.” Furore wrapped her legs around Fate’s waist. “I’m sorry if this turn of events upset you.”

“Gale… was funny.” Fate didn’t cry, like Hymn, but she sounded regretful. “Don’t think I’m fit for my roles. Destiny and luck.”

“I think you are.” Furore pulled Fate down until she could plant a gentle, loving kiss on her golden lips. “I like you, my goddess of creation. You’ll do better with the next one.”

“I will.” Fate slid her arms around her, rested her head on Furore’s chest. “I must.”

Rejuvenation

During their first two years together in Caelora, Iorvil grew more restless than ever. She’d survived to spread Rhabour’s message, and uncovered a new beginning like Keeper Jerfell had asked her to, but she’d lived and breathed war for so long. How could she pretend everything was fine now?

The empire still existed. Thotrix hadn’t perished. Somewhere far beyond the ocean, they may prepare to invade the rest of the world. She didn’t like to think about it at all, yet she couldn’t stop either. For years, her survival had depended on avoiding the empire. And suddenly, she didn’t have to worry about them.

If she’d had an airship, or known how to get to the empire, she might have recruited people for an expedition. Many of her brethren remained captives. She’d freed one machine, no more.

Hymn had told her about the time she’d last seen Phoxene, and how the woman had abandoned her, but Iorvil couldn’t claim she’d expected better from her sister. Thotrix’s servants had destroyed her people. The majority had been killed, but individuals like Phoxene may have suffered worse. They’d had their minds twisted until they couldn’t act right.

Hope and Venviel welcomed her to Caelora, with open arms, though she never stopped wondering what they’d been like when they’d had both of their daughters. After Hymn told them the truth about Gale, they kind of broke. It may not be obvious on the surface, not to a stranger like her, but everyone acted strange around them from that day on. Hope and Venviel could often be seen whispering quietly to each other, hugging, and drawing strength from their love.

They shared a bond that shattered whatever remnants existed of her old idea that love weakened people. They could look at each other on the verge of tears, when one of them seemed to reminisce about their lost daughter, and a mere smile from their partner cheered them up.

When Hymn became pregnant, Iorvil panicked. How could she know her love hadn’t cheated on her? How could she prove a god had interfered in their relationship? Why would anyone think she’d make a good parent? What kind of lunatic put her in a position where she had to care for a pregnant woman? She was a warrior, not a midwife.

In the end, none of it mattered. Hymn didn’t leave her for someone else, so she accepted the boy as theirs. She did her best to raise him as a faithful of Rhabour, as another member of her people. Although, he looked more like Hymn than a human with his tail and horns.

Thankfully, Hope was always there to give her advice, and Venviel liked to appear out of nowhere to play with the boy. Hymn named him Brazen. It fit a warrior of Iorvil’s people, and it respected the names his grandmothers had given their children.

A decade passed in Hymn’s company, and in the shadow of her love, Iorvil forgot about the empire. At least during the days. Some nights were hard unless Rhabour visited her because she suffered from nightmares, but in time, she would overcome those too.

Iorvil entered The Amiciers’ Rest while a dozen sailors sat around tables, nursed their drinks, and seemed on the verge of falling asleep. Everyone called them pirates, smugglers, but for criminals, they were a soft bunch.

A couple of them greeted her with nods. Most of them watched her in awe, because she was just that much taller than them, and while she’d lost her old weapon after jumping in a river ten years ago, she’d replaced it with a silvery axe that looked like it could cleave someone in half. Caelora lacked soldiers, so she did her best to dissuade new arrivals from getting ideas.

“Iorvil the Giant!” Art exclaimed, grinned, and snatched a glass off the counter. Since they’d first met, he’d grown from a child into a rambunctious young man. “Hymn went upstairs to clean, but I can get you anything you want. Anything at all. I’m getting good at this.”

Iorvil smiled. He reminded her of Gale, in the worst ways. “Does Hope know you’re serving drinks without supervision? Should I stay here until Hymn returns in case you get the urge to drink yourself? Heard about—”

“I don’t know what you think you heard.” Art grabbed the nearest rag, started to clean the glass, and avoided looking at her. “I’m working, hard, as you see.”

“Right. Give me a bottle to bring up to Hymn. I have a question I must ask her, apparently, according to the customs of these lands.”

Iorvil suspected she’d done a lot wrong in their relationship, but it wasn’t until Venviel kindly reminded her one time too many that she’d married Hope, so and so many years ago, that she finally took the hint. No women had ever been married among her people, as far as she was aware, so it hadn’t seemed important.

“Are you paying?” Art smirked. “Or is this a robbery?”

The moment he described her request as a robbery, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the tavern. Iorvil saw several pirates reach for knives they’d concealed on themselves. It was a warning to her not to cause trouble. Newcomers to Caelora received similar warnings from her, if they threatened someone.

“Can I get a couple of glasses then, Art?”

“Will you pay for those?”

“I would, if I had the coin, but people around here are usually perfectly happy to trade in services with me.”

When she’d first moved into Caelora, the inhabitants had treaded with care around her, kept a suspicious eye on her activities, but once they’d gotten comfortable with her presence, they’d started asking for favour after favour. Often, they’d needed her to carry things, lift heavy objects, or look frightening at their side if outsiders tried to push them around.

If Venviel hadn’t put her foot down on Iorvil’s behalf, she might have ended up with numerous broken bones again. As a compromise, those who wanted Iorvil to help them had to offer her something in return.

“Have you considered asking your growing faithful for donations?” Art’s smirk grew on his face. “I don’t know if I should give out drinks to loose women chasing my sister. I might run this tavern into the ground, if I do.”

Iorvil grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him off the floor. “If you speak about Hymn like that in public again, I—“

“I’ll defend myself.” Hymn piped up from the top of the stairs and encouraged the three pirates who’d gotten to their feet to sit back down, reluctantly, by raising her hand. “Art, an apology.”

“I shouldn’t have run my mouth,” Art said. “I was only trying to tease Iorvil. I should have congratulated her instead, for finally getting the courage to ask you to marry her.”

“She…” Hymn straightened her dress, fidgeted, her tail thumped the stairs. “She what?”

“She didn’t think it was important, because we’ve already lived together for years. But if there are loose women running around, obviously, she needs to make it clear to them that you’re taken.” Iorvil dropped Art. “I love you Hymn, even if I haven’t expressed it as boldly as I should have. I’d welcome a life with you, wherever it may take us. Whatever what might happen. I belong with you, if you’ll have me.”

“I—“

“Farrgin’ lovely!” A pirate with a brown, patchy beard and an eye patch exclaimed, clapped his hands, and started bawling against the table top. “I miss me own wench.”

“Thank you for the…”

“Let’s go somewhere private,” Hymn said, gestured for Iorvil to follow her, and stepped up onto the second floor. “Where I can show my appreciation for you, uninterrupted.”

A few of the pirates clapped Iorvil on the back while she passed between the tables, whistled, and whispered amongst themselves.

Pieces of Her

“We don’t have to marry, Iorvil,” Hymn said, led her love into an empty room, and sat down on one of the two soft beds.

They’d decorated the tavern’s rooms with thick, warm carpets, white curtains, and furniture crafted out of the finest oak. They may have stopped expanding, and adding onto the building, but that allowed them to spend funds to improve the interior instead.

Iorvil shut the door, opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. She approached Hymn, slid behind her on the bed, and laid her broad arms around her. She never felt safer than when she lingered in the giant’s embrace. Iorvil’s body had become her castle where she could always seek shelter.

“I don’t want to be an outsider, Hymn. I want to unite our cultures, in the ways that it’s possible, and ensure a new beginning for my people.”

“Our people.” Hymn grabbed Iorvil’s hand, intertwined their fingers, and squeezed. “I was never given the chance to meet your brethren, in this circle, and I will always wish I had. They would have shown me how to respect you. If you don’t marry, I don’t plan to force you. I could have suggested it years ago, if I thought it important. We have a son. We’re family.”

Iorvil hugged her, tighter, and pressed her nose against her ear. “I don’t think they would have taught you how respect anyone else than yourself and Rhabour. Take my proposal, seriously, Hymn, and I’ll honour whatever demand your mothers make of me.”

“Nothing will change then.” Hymn leaned into Iorvil, ran a hand along her thigh. “I’ll love you in this life and the next. I’ll love you till the sky crashes down on us, past the point where the cowardly goddess remembers we exist and seeks to undo us.”

“It’s… it’s strange to feel complete when I know what I’ve lost…” Iorvil kissed her head. “Do I deserve this? Happiness? Do I deserve you?”

“I decide that.” Hymn laid down on the bed and encouraged Iorvil to lay down with her. “I don’t like it when you question choices I made a decade ago.”

“Then I won’t.” Iorvil kissed her.

They made love, desperately, as if neither of them believed they would have an eternity together, and they feared what they might succumb to if they couldn’t touch each other. Yet it wasn’t different than any other time, it was what they’d become through intimacy and honesty.

In the morning, Hymn left Iorvil to sleep while she went downstairs to prepare for another day. Hope may have given more and more responsibility to her over the last decade, but even though she’d grown older, she’d not retired yet. Hymn still worked the tavern with the plan to inherit the business one day. She no longer had anyone to compete with, sadly, and numerous were the hours when she missed Gale.

The worst moments were those where she forgot her twin had died, and she caught herself imagining she’d seen her in the flesh walking up the cliff path from the beach. Or she wondered if she should wake Gale up, because she had too much to do in a single day and her lazy sister shouldn’t get to sleep in every day.

She cried when she remembered how Gale wouldn’t ever wake up again. She put on a brave face for everyone, every day, but once or twice since her return to Caelora, she’d broken down when the bond she’d shared with her twin for a brief period had reawakened.

Gale had appeared translucent in front of her, smiled at her in the most comforting manner, and winked. For a second or two, she’d sensed another heart beating next to hers, and it had consoled her. She’d wanted to believe Gale had only disappeared, and still lived somewhere, but then the bond had died again. And days which grew into months passed without another sign.

She wouldn’t meet Gale again. If she did, she wouldn’t know what to say. Would she scold for throwing her life away, punish her for the pain she’d forced her to endure, or would she have the strength to forgive her? If Gale hadn’t been such a fool, she would have forgiven her already, but she only wished for her to come home. At least then they could argue about what she’d done. They could scream at each other, like they ought to do.

Better Off Dead

“Now that may have been a tad grim, for your whim, but I did save my Hymn!” Gale finished the final verse of the song she’d written about her twin and the pretty giant, strummed the strings of the lute crafted out of black, charred bones, and swung her hips as she danced between cheering members of the crowd.

Tanned beauty after tanned beauty surrounded her on the wharf outside the inn, while the wind tugged on the rags they wore. Someone groped her, but she’d gotten used to the hands of pirates by now. The Isle of No Return may not be anywhere near as large as Caelora, but it would suffice as her home as long as its visitors threw gold at her.

“Thank you, thank you.” Gale curtsied to her audience with a flourish. “Drinks are for sale inside, as always.”

“You gon’ join us?” A tattooed man with braided hair asked, tossed a gold coin into the air, and caught it again. “My treat.”

“I’ll be down later, don’t worry.”

“Awww.” A woman who wore very little in terms of clothing groaned.

“Even I have to take breaks, before you all volunteer to give me shakes.” She smirked, strummed a final note on her lute, and retreated down along the wharf.

The crowd went back inside the inn. Four ships were anchored by the lagoon on the larger second island, while dozen of rowboats had been tied to the wharf or dragged up on the beach of the Isle of No Return. A common sight.

She made her way into the bushes that surrounded the concealed wooden structures in the middle of the isle, climbed the first vine she stumbled upon, and emerged onto the walkway in front of the room she rented.

Once inside her cramped, temporary home, she laid the lute on the bed, sat down at the table, and stared through the open hole that passed for a window. The ocean stretched out onto the horizon, while the leaves of palm trees right outside swayed in the wind. Storms were rare in the area, or she would have asked for better accommodations.

She thumbed at the leather glove she was forced to wear on her right hand. The last decade had not been kind to her, even if she couldn’t complain right now. She’d lost more than she’d ever imagined she would lose, and she still had no clue how to get back home, if it even was a possibility. Then again, she’d made her choice. She’d chosen fame, and she could pursue it if she wished. Nevertheless, she should have listened to Furore when she’d mentioned the high price of dreams.

Someone knocked on the door to her room, but she ignored them. If one of her fans wanted to worship her, they could wait until she returned to the inn. She had to eat and sleep like everyone else, despite her condition.

Gale pulled the glove off her hand, winced, and exposed the bony fingers underneath. She would never get used to the mark of death, or the complete lack of skin and flesh, but at least she’d gotten better at playing the lute with her left.

The door opened. A tall woman in a blouse, striped pants, and boots who hid her face behind a wide-brimmed hat stepped inside.

“I’m disappointed.”

Gale tried to slip her glove back on, but dropped it on the floor instead, and reached for a dagger on top of the table when she noticed how the intruder had a cutlass strapped to her waist.

“I’ve listened to you sing since last night and not once… Not once have I heard a single ditty or ballad about a certain doll you promised the world.” Phoxene lowered her hat, smiled at Gale, and quirked an eyebrow when she spotted her skeletal hand. “How did you get out of the capital? I saw you with Thotrix’s soldiers.”

“You saw me?” Gale tightened her grip on the dagger’s hilt. If Phoxene had seen her, she’d not helped. “You know, I don’t think I should tell you my tricks, but let’s just say someone found my voice appealing. And they saved me, if you’d call it that.”

Phoxene sat down on the edge of the table, placed her foot on the side of Gale’s chair, and stretched her long leg. “Did they give you the hand too?”

Gale tore her gaze off Phoxene, who’d grown no less attractive since their last meeting, and gazed across the waves. “And the lute.”

“Another goddess then.”

“A forgotten entity of death for those who reject the gods.” Gale shuddered at the thought of the realm, the afterlife, she’d ended up in. If she’d never stumbled upon Niaris and sung for her, she would still have been trapped there. “You want to rethink your opinion about the gods before your time is up.”

“Rethink my opinion? About the gods? You dare ask more of me than anyone else in the world.” Phoxene chuckled and pushed her leg on the chair against Gale. “Are you too old to travel now, or are you up for another adventure?”

“I don’t know.” She leaned away from the leg. “I don’t think love would appreciate me flirting with the same woman twice, not after I betrayed the poor girl and broke her vulnerable heart.”

Phoxene grinned, shook her head. “Love can’t be a choice?”

“Can it?”

“I heard a rumour…” Phoxene rolled the sleeves of her blouse up, revealed the ticking machines, and caressed Gale’s right arm with undue interest. “A story of how someone rose up against the gods, centuries ago, and killed one. Some who’d heard the same rumour before me claimed love was involved.”

“I’d rather stay out of their business.”

Phoxene tutted. “Did they steal your courage too? Your tail?”

“No, I… I tuck that in after the accident.” Gale dropped the dagger and rose to her feet while Phoxene laughed. “Why are you bothering me? What do you think you’ll get? Shouldn’t you be flying your airship around on your own, since you don’t care about anyone?”

“I have a fleet.” Phoxene grabbed a spyglass off her belt, offered it to Gale, and pointed toward the horizon. “We got split up after a storm, but they’re on their way. This place will be busy in a couple of hours.”

Gale took the spyglass, put it against her eye, and tried to find whatever Phoxene had pointed at. She spotted three airships above the ocean, headed straight for them at high speeds. “You saved more dolls?”

“Don’t call them that when they can hear, but yes, I did.”

“I won’t, but…” Gale returned the spyglass. “I don’t know what you want with me. I’ve made a haven for myself, by never staying too long anywhere.”

Phoxene leaned forward, pulled the blouse away from a spot on her neck, and bared a tattoo in the shape of a bite mark. “I don’t love you, Gale, don’t take it like that, but after I saw you with the soldiers, I wanted to remember our night.”

“I betrayed you…”

“And shortly afterwards, you made a stand against those who’d oppressed me since my birth.” Phoxene began to unbutton her blouse and revealed more and more tattoos depicting creatures of myth and legend. A kraken rested in the middle of her chest. “We plan to kill a god. Thotrix. You could come with us, become a hero, or I could kidnap you and enslave you to my yearnings and needs.”

“What a tempting offer…” Gale grabbed her glove off the floor, slid it back onto her hand. “How could I—“

“Don’t hide it.” Phoxene urged her. “Your hand.”

“It’s hideous. Horrifying. You don’t want to see it. No one does.”

Phoxene slammed her palms onto the table, so the machines in her arms clicked louder, and watched her with an intense, crazed look. “We’re so alike, daft girl. Since you’ve left me wanting for years, I need you to fucking please me again, or I might very well tie you to my bed on the Gustfin.”

Gale dropped the glove. “You’re going to be the death of me, and I don’t—“

“Given the choice, I would choose to love you.” Phoxene got up from the table and backed her up against the wall by placing a hand on her chest. “Knowing the consequences, I would risk you betraying me twice. What more do you require out of a confession? I can’t love you by accident. I don’t understand the feeling.”

“I…” Gale gazed into Phoxene’s grey-green eyes, but she found nothing new there except a wish to be understood. “Time. It’s been years, you know.”

Phoxene furrowed her brow, thought for a second or two. “We can fuck while you think?”

“We could, absolutely, do that.”

“Wonderful.” Phoxene grabbed her neck, planted a kiss on her lips that tasted of rum, and squeezed her hip. “You made me miss you.”

Gale had missed everyone she’d ever known, especially Hymn, but she didn’t say that. “I did write a song about you. I’ll play it, later, on your ship. It’ll be more fitting there, doll.”

Encore for Rebels

Wendy T. Lyoness

Copyright © 2020 by Wendy T. Lyoness

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Wendy’s Newsletter. Wendy’s Facebook.

A Heart Too Soft

Niaris waited for years that became decades and centuries. Even though she knew Dyella would return, one day, and call her name with a soft-spoken voice, she began to develop misgivings about what may have occupied her mother.

What took so long?

Thotrix might have gotten angry, again, but how bad could it be? Why hadn’t Dyella visited, at least once, to tell her that it would take longer than expected to calm the god? Niaris didn’t believe Thotrix hated her. Not really.

In the beginning, the spirits of the unchained dead, which floated into her hiding place, had served as adequate company. But they’d not spoken to her. They’d danced across the obsidian rocks of crags, and pillars, while avoiding the pools of still, bright red water.

Many of them existed like no more than buzzing wisps. Faint yellow-green balls of light. A rare few, with fire in their unbeating hearts, appeared in the flesh. She’d attempted to befriend those to have someone to talk to, but no one seemed to wish her company. They feared her.

And after a century or five without meeting the mortals in Thylatserine, realm of humans and elves, she questioned whether she would offend their sensibilities if she showed herself on the surface again.

She’d never thought of herself as beautiful, and understood how those with a fear of snakes would recoil at the sight of her, but she’d no intention to cut her scaly pets off her head. Without them, she would have been even lonelier. She wouldn’t have had anyone that needed her. She would have been one meaningless demigod, indeed.

“No longer aflame…” A woman sang, put a crack in her heart with despair, and landed on the smooth rock at her feet. She looked strange, stranger than any mortal she’d encountered in the past, with her green skin, the horns of a goat, and a tail.

Niaris bent down next to the new arrival, noticed someone had severed her right hand, and trailed her fingers across the stump. If she was quick about it, she could restore her hand without anyone noticing.

She’d not drawn on the well of divine energy that Dyella and Thotrix’s union had granted her, not in a long time, but she did her best.

At least until she realized that using her divinity in this realm of death couldn’t restore flesh or blood. She healed the mortal’s right hand, but it took on a terrible appearance in the process. It belonged on a skeleton, lacked flesh.

“Who are you…” The mortal blinked her eyes open, smirked. “Pleasure is mine… I’m Gale.”

“I’m…” Niaris hesitated, four of the ten snakes that made up her hair hissed at Gale.

“A demon? Me too. Well, half-demon, half-elf.”

“No, not a…” Niaris furrowed her brow. She’d not heard of demonic mortals in the past. She’d been gone too long. “No matter. My name is Niaris, Gale, and you’re…” She didn’t want to remind anyone of how they were dead, but if she’d become the unwilling keeper of this forgotten realm, she may as well serve its inhabitants to the best of her abilities. “Not in Thylatserine, not now.”

“Thylatserine…?”

“Realm of mortals. Your world.”

“Never heard it called that in my life.” Gale sat, glanced at the snakes in her hair. “Are you a god?”

Niaris shook her head. “Not exactly. I’m… the keeper of this place, for now, until my mother returns to free me.”

“Ah…” Gale opened her mouth, as if she meant to ask more questions, questions about her, but instead she sighed, stared at the obsidian beneath them. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she shivered like she needed someone to hug her lest she break under the realization of her end.

“It’s not so bad here.” Niaris moved closer, yet since her snakes hissed at the notion of bodily contact, she settled for stroking Gale’s back.

Gale had not worn a lot of clothes when she’d died, but perhaps mortals didn’t do that these days. Perhaps Gale had lived in a tropical climate. Niaris had always wanted to live in those. Dyella had favoured forests and fields, where winter ruled an entire season of the year. Her mother had been too fond of snow and ice.

“I…” Gale lifted her arms, hid behind them, sobbed.

“I’m here for you, whenever you need me, Gale.” Niaris smiled.

She hated seeing mortals this sad. It was worse than when they feared her. She could do nothing to heal their hearts, their internal wounds, yet she should have been able to. If Dyella had taught her more before she’d left her to figure things out on her own, she could have helped these lost souls. She wouldn’t have hated the idea of ruling this realm, if she’d been given proper instructions. Instead she’d been abandoned.

“I was promised the world, they took it from me.” Gale growled, dug her fingers into her arms, and bruised her own skin. She perked up long enough to inspect her right hand. It must have felt different without nails. “Took my hand too, stupid…”

“Gods do that.” Niaris nodded. For a second, she suspected she would have been comfortable with blaming the skeletal hand on others. But no, it wouldn’t be right. “You woke up without your hand, it turned into that when I tried to heal it.”

Gale stiffened, moved as if she planned to rise to her feet and run. “Huh.”

“I’ll make it up to you!” Niaris blurted out. “What do you want? I can create a castle, of obsidian, if you wish.”

“I want what I was promised. A life of fame. I want to be alive.”

“I…” Niaris hid under her snakes when Gale glared at her and expected her to fulfil her request. It wasn’t too much to ask, she supposed, but she didn’t know what Dyella would say if she discovered she’d released one of the unchained dead. “I can’t—“

“Why not? What’s stopping you?” Gale narrowed her eyes. “Do you want me to beg and demean myself first? Betray someone? I thought you’d make this up to me, not the other way around. I thought you owed me.”

“It would have been a stump without—“

“It would have been my stump.”

“But—“

“Don’t.” Gale rose to her feet, pointed at her with a skeletal finger, and turned away. “Leave me alone, Niaris. I’ll make it on my own. I don’t need you.”

“I’ll think about your request, but—“

“You do that.” Gale scoffed, walked off across the flat stony ground which stretched on into eternity.

She wouldn’t escape, regardless of how far she walked. Niaris would watch this particular woman, at least till she’d earned her forgiveness. She shouldn’t have tried to heal her. If Dyella discovered what she’d done, she may be punished.

Weeks passed. Niaris didn’t get a single idea for how to get Gale to forgive her before she heard her muttering about a lute. Then she hurried to the quaint, humble home she’d made for herself by one of the largest lakes of red water. She’d not needed a castle like she’d offered Gale, so she lived in a cot.

She’d stuffed her home full of replicas and knick knacks she remembered from the world of mortals. Clothes she’d worn, paintings she’d seen, items she’d owned. And her greatest possession of all, a harp which Dyella had allowed her to bring everywhere. Her mother had told her she’d crafted it from clouds and stars.

The harp had a fleeting, heavenly aura to its silver frame, and its sound inspired her to soar like a hawk across Thylatserine. If she could have altered her form like a true god, she might have snuck out to do exactly that, but she couldn’t, so she didn’t. She was stuck.

She plucked at the strings of the harp, closed her eyes to only hear its magnificent sound, and thought of bringing it to Gale to show her that she could play an instrument too. She couldn’t play as well as the half-demon could sing, but who could? She doubted anyone had ever possessed such an exquisite voice.

During those moments when she’d pursued Gale, without her noticing, she’d often lost herself in her singing. It was beyond and above anything she could create.

She considered whether she should give Gale her harp, but no, it had been a gift from her mother. She couldn’t give it away.

In the end, she tried to create a lute befit a woman like Gale, which could produce music with a divine sound, yet she failed and failed again. The lutes never brimmed with the life that the woman did. If she’d not been so lonely, if she’d not coveted Gale’s friendship, she might have spent another century trying to perfect a lute of her own creation.

Instead, she grabbed the one she thought best, gathered her courage, and presented it to Gale. She did perk up, for a while, a day or so. Yet the lute wasn’t enough. Niaris wasn’t enough. The gods had betrayed Gale when they’d let her die, and now no one could mend the hole in her heart.

Not unless they broke the rules.

“I’m…” Gale stopped in front of the giant obsidian gate that would take her out of the forgotten realm. “Are you sure?” She smiled at Niaris who’d given in and brought her to the locked exit. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.” She scratched her neck, stared at the bridge they stood on. “I know I’ve not been easy, the last… who knows how long, but you’ve only been kind, and I—”

“Go,” Niaris said, placed her hand on the gate, and called on it to open by pouring her essence into it. “Sing about me. The discarded daughter of Dyella and Thotrix. Prisoner.”

“Who is Dyella?” Gale asked, stepped closer to the gate when it cracked, rumbled, and began to reveal her escape. Her path to life.

“The goddess of love,” Niaris said. “I’m sure you’ve heard…”

She trailed off because Gale froze, observed her with a troubled expression, and hugged the lute she’d given her with a new fondness. She seemed to appreciate the gift more for no reason.

“What?” Niaris asked.

Gale looked at the gate, then at her, then back at the gate. She wondered if she should shut the gate again until the half-demon told her the truth, but she didn’t get a chance. Gale rushed through it, waved at her.

“Dyella is—“

Gale vanished, torn up into the ether, and slung back to Thylatserine. If Niaris wanted an answer to the question she now had, she had to follow. She had to disobey her mother and leave her hiding place.

She did not. No, while she may be desperate for someone to talk to again, soon, Gale had given her the gift of friendship. She shouldn’t rush after her and force the truth out of the half-demon, if she didn’t wish to tell it. They could be friends in separate realms. They might meet again after Gale had gotten a chance to live her life to an end caused by old age. Gale could tell her the truth then.

After another decade in solitude, and loneliness, she decided she couldn’t take it anymore. Every day she regretted how she’d not played her harp for Gale, how she’d not followed her. Who knew what had happened to her friend? Perhaps she needed help to get used to life again, after their weeks together. Perhaps she needed someone as much as Niaris did.

Or perhaps it was just time to accept that her mother would not come back. Dyella had never left her alone this long before, and she was not cruel. She would have sought her out, if there’d been a change of plans.

Niaris hated the nagging inkling that Dyella had ended up in trouble, and rather than come out of hiding to assist her mother, she’d cowered for centuries. When she stepped through the gate with her harp and followed Gale to the world of mortals, she understood she’d imprisoned herself. Now she chose to be free.

Enough

Furore caressed Fate’s golden forehead, pulled out, and laid next to her in the tall, wet grass on top of the cliffs. The goddess of destiny and luck breathed like she’d finished a race that had lasted hours, just for her sake. Vibrant orange birds she didn’t know the names of chittered, dove out of the sky straight into the clearest of waters, and stayed under to catch squids.

She couldn’t stop thinking that Fate had become more and more distant, lately, and while she didn’t like to put the blame at the feet of the dead, it was Gale’s fault. If she’d not committed suicide in such a pointless fashion, Fate wouldn’t have had a problem with Furore.

She’d not been there to watch the half-demon sacrifice herself for her twin. It wasn’t just one measly heart breaking and stinking up the realm. It was hundreds, thousands, all at once vying for her attention. At some point, she might have to seek out a remedy for her nose.

“Furore…” Fate stroked her own stomach. “Think I need to end this. Us.”

“What? Why?”

“Been thinking.”

“You shouldn’t do that then. We’re perfect together. We’ve done so much good…” She snorted. She’d made attempts, but she’d no clue how they’d panned out once she’d lost interest in the couples. Anyone could take her slot as the goddess of love, but she wasn’t ready to die to surrender her position. “I enjoy your body.”

“Best you got.” Fate sat and gazed out across the eroded cliffs that stuck out of the ocean like mushrooms after the years during which the elements had assailed them. “Not working.”

“Why? Give me a reason.”

“Too much ego.”

Furore realized that Fate meant it, so she sat up next to her, laid her arms around her lover, and blew air into her deer-like ear. “It’s fine, Fate. You’re not that bad. I promise I won’t leave you because you can be a little egotistical. I do—”

“Not funny either.” Fate shrugged her arms off her. “You were, once, when we first met, but never changed. Never evolved. Never grew into someone I’d like to spend more years with.”

“We’ve been inseparable for a century, at least.” Furore summoned Grinja, her brittle glass dagger, and picked at her nails with it. “Why throw it away without… another attempt? What do you think you’ll accomplish without me?”

A sly smile played across Fate’s lips, briefly, so she did have plans. “Not about that. I’ll help you, but don’t…” She ran a hand across her stomach again, frowned. “Don’t want to be with you. I could change, like those others. The ones you’ve scared. Earn my roles as goddess of destiny and luck. Not passively accept them by gift of existence.”

“I could help you change, be there for you.”

“No.” Fate blinked, vanished, and reappeared standing on a cliff in the distance.

Furore rolled her eyes, extended her wings, and leapt after Fate. She landed in front of the golden goddess, on the verge of a cliff where the winds tore at her dress, and pointed Grinja at her lover to make her listen. “You can’t leave me, Fate. I won’t allow it. I’m worth another chance and—“

“Threatening me,” Fate said, crossed her arms under her ample chest, and shut her eyes. “This is why. Can’t become greater at evil’s side. Can’t become new.”

“I’m not threatening you,” Furore said through clenched teeth. Fate pulled at straws to get an excuse for them to break up. They’d done worse to each other. “But I will if you don’t quit this bullshit. Then I will threaten you, Fate. And you won’t appreciate it. I—“

“Killed Dyella.” Fate nodded. “I’m aware.”

“Yeah, because I told you. It wasn’t a secret. I haven’t kept secrets from you. I do enjoy your body, and your personality too.”

Fate stretched her hand out, as if she expected Furore to relinquish Grinja without argument. “You should have. I kept secrets myself, always.”

Grinja tore itself out of her grip, flew through the air into Fate’s hand, and left a stinging pain in its wake. A minor wound. Furore hadn’t bled in forever, and it was an uncomfortable realization to know that she could. That the dagger she’d thought hers obeyed a different master whenever it suited it.

“New gods never last because those of us of age, of eons, have so many long stories to tell.” Fate strapped Grinja to her belt. “Mine. And another hundred like it, also mine. You own nothing, baby.”

“Baby? I’ve been around for as long as you.” Furore scoffed. She didn’t like what Gale’s death had done to Fate, not one bit, but maybe Fate had never been on her side. Maybe they were enemies. “I may not have been a goddess, back then, but… Is this about the demigod? Because I’ve not—”

“We’re gods, Furore.” Fate smiled, flapped her deer-like ears, and shook her head. “Don’t listen when someone lies to you and tells you how to create demigods is intercourse. Liars only want to use you.”

“I love being used by you then!”

Fate raised her hand and bent her fingers, one by one, in a teasing wave. “Bye, hottie.” She vanished.

Furore tried to get a sense of where Fate had disappeared to, but she detected no trail to follow, and couldn’t see her atop the nearby cliffs. The birds chittered and dove for food, the waves of the ocean crashed against the cliffs, but no sign of Fate. Nothing.

If she’d not known her as well as she did, she may have suspected the goddess had committed suicide like her favourite mortal. But while Fate may be gloomy and sad, she wasn’t crazy. She was smarter than most. If Furore intended to find her, she might need help. Rhabour owed her after she’d given Iorvil her new beginning.

Krakens of the Sky

Once the rest of her fleet arrived at the Isle of No Return, the inn got very busy. Singing, hollering, and drinking echoed out into the lagoon and wilderness of the second island. Pirates and merceneraries crowded around tables and counters, in the light of the iron chandeliers above their heads. Not everyone could fit inside though, so the festivities spilled out onto the wharf and the beach.

Phoxene had grown pleasantly exhausted again, after a couple of hours in Gale’s company, yet she partook in the feast nonetheless. She drank rum that tasted harsh, unforgiving, and may as well have kicked her in the throat. She hummed along with Gale when the singer burst into the inn with her lute.

The pirates who ruled the area welcomed her crew and captains like they were family. They asked question after question about their proud airships, which they’d seen fly through the sky, but none of the hired warriors of her crew could explain it to them.

She always maintained an aura of inapproachability, whether she wanted to or not, so no one asked her. No one sought out the leader of the fleet to ask their questions. Once or twice, a particularly brave soul headed her direction, but when she watched them, they changed their minds and altered their course. They didn’t dare wrestle with her storm.

Other than her, only her three captains knew what made the ships fly, and that was because they were machines. They were their respective ship’s masters.

Saufnein or Sauft, pronounced soft, which they’d taken to calling him was the most sociable of the machines she’d freed. He was a rugged man with a number of scars on his weather-beaten face, dark hair, scraggly beard, and a physique she’d admired more than once in secret.

He towered above many of the pirates, spoke to them with a charming smile, slapped their backs, laughed, and started singing along with Gale whenever she approached him. They were bound to become friends, if Gale decided to come with them when they set out on their quest to slay Thotrix.

Sauft had been the first machine she’d freed, and it had happened more by accident than because it had been her intention. He’d pestered her to stand with her people, even if he’d rejected Iorvil’s definition. They were no longer Rhabour’s faithful, but they sure as shit weren’t Thotrix’s or the empire’s slaves either. They would be more.

Phoxene had not listened to him or his grating voice at first. In fact, she’d tried to escape him, but he’d proved persistent, cunning. He’d tracked her down again and again, as if he’d honestly believed her contribution could make a dent in the fate of other machines.

Since she stood among a crew controlled by three captains who’d once been Thotrix’s slaves, she guessed she had to admit he’d proven her wrong.

Sauft had helped her reclaim the Gustfin, and repair it, after the golden goddess had torn her away from her ship. Thankfully, the Bridge of Oriel was such a famous landmark that it had been easy to locate her airship, even if it hadn’t been easy to repair her.

Months later, they’d claimed a second airship for him which he’d named Little Shark. It had been a simple matter, since they’d poisoned the rations that captain had bought for his men with sleeping powder and sneaked aboard at night while everyone slept.

She’d cut a lot of throats that night, yet she’d not felt remorse for the men and women of the empire. They’d enslaved her and others like her because their god had ordered them to. She’d stained her arms with buckets of blood, stumbled upon her third machine, and Kan had made it all worth the tedious effort.

“Phoxene, excuse me, but is this… a worthy endeavour?” Kan appeared at her side, nodded in the direction of Gale who seemed to wait for her to join her, and pressed herself against the wall. “Should I learn to dance?”

Phoxene suppressed the immediate urge to shoot Kan down, roll her eyes, and reprimand her captain. Despite how Kan hadn’t been a slave for years, she’d not grown a lot more courageous. She often asked for permission she didn’t need. Whoever had once owned her as a machine had done a number on the woman, scarred her for life, and she may never recover.

“If that is your wish,” Phoxene whispered, turned to her, and grinned. “Gale is devious in bed, too, if that is an interest you have.”

“In bed…?” Kan pursed her lips, stared at the floor. She didn’t catch on.

A shame, Phoxene supposed, since she was attractive with her dainty movements, feminine face, and drew a number of eyes to her. Especially when she pressed up against the wall behind Phoxene and made it seem like they were doing something inappropriate together. Then again, who knew what pirates considered inappropriate? Probably not screwing in public.

“I’ve not heard of this dancing in bed before.” Kan nodded, her long, white braids fell in front of her face and the yellow robe she wore everywhere. Phoxene had once told her to buy new clothes, given her coins, so she didn’t look like another slave, and Kan had stolen the nearest garment that fit her. “Should I learn from Gale first, and then you can show me how to dance in bed? I don’t know what I’m agreeing to. Language is…”

“You do that.” Phoxene shrugged.

“I shall!” Kan slammed her fist into her open palm, in a surprising display of bravery for her, and strode back over to Gale to bend down to whisper in her ear.

Phoxene couldn’t help thinking it was comical how Kan was the tallest out of the machines in her fleet, Rhabour may have a sense of humour, but what made it even better was what Kan had named her airship once they’d commandeered it for her.

She’d insisted on calling the airship she’d fly Thotrix’s Bane, and regardless of the arguments Sauft or Phoxene had made that it might attract undue attention, Kan had not relented. She’d not agreed to another name, though they’d suggested a few.

The third captain, and the most recent machine they’d freed, was Udfiol. She stood leaned against the wall outside, on the beach, only glancing in at the feast every once in a while. No one reminded Phoxene of Iorvil as much as Udfiol did. They were true faithful of Rhabour. Hardy, tough women who walked through war because nothing else suited them.

She didn’t know what had happened to Iorvil, she assumed it was violent, but she might have preferred to have her with them instead of Udfiol. At least Iorvil spoke her mind. Udfiol rarely spoke at all.

Phoxene found it difficult to believe that Udfiol had been kidnapped as a child like the rest of them, because she retained so much of Iorvil’s faith. She’d had the cycles of the moon tattooed on her forehead shortly after they’d freed her. In the middle, right between her eyes, sat a full moon, and then on each side of it sat another moon, and another, in a line of fading half-moons.

Udfiol had dubbed her airship The Disgrace yet refused to explain the name further. She’d bought a fur mantle that she always wore, which everyone seemed to agree would have fit their lost brethren, but who could tell? None of them had memories from that time in their lives.

Phoxene slid a hand over the terrible shackle on her forearm, under her long-sleeved shirt, when it clicked too loud. She worried what might happen to the shackles if they killed Thotrix, yet she had no intention of straying from her course. They could do it. She knew that. And when they did, they would free hundreds of machines.

Iorvil might have liked it if she’d joined her, run off to find a new beginning somewhere, but someone needed to fight for their people. They were not what they’d once been. Not after years of enslavement. They could not return to their families, since they’d been slaughtered by the empire, but they should not give up on each other either.

Someone screamed and brought the feast to a confused halt. Yet since no one asked for help, or warned them about a fight, the pirates resumed singing and drinking. Gale looked at Phoxene, but she only shrugged in response. She’d no idea who’d screamed.

For so long, she’d not cared about anyone except herself. During her time with the empire, she’d obeyed every order to the letter. She’d not questioned her existence before she’d become an adult. And when she’d begun wondering why her lot in life was so different compared to the nobles, the fine women, or even the commoners, she’d not stopped until she’d constructed a reality that fit her own identity.

A reality in which she understood she was mistreated, abused, but couldn’t do much to change her fate. Iorvil had given her an opportunity she’d squandered during the first weeks, and months, but Saufnein had given it purpose.

These days, she feared she cared more about other machines than herself. She didn’t like her captains much, if she was honest, but she needed them to survive to keep her purpose in life. It was important to her that they live because without them she would have to rebuild everything they’d created, and it would take too much time.

Phoxene understood she’d been damaged like Kan, yet unlike Kan, she didn’t think there was any hope for her. Kan whirled around with Gale and tried to avoid bumping into anyone by accident when they danced. She possessed grace and humility under her timid exterior. Kan could become someone great.

Phoxene planned to sacrifice herself to ensure the success of their quest. Thotrix would die, even if she had to give her life to see it happen. And who would claim such a thought sane?

Memory

Gale may have died and gotten older, but she could keep up with the worst of them. She played her lute for the pirates, for Phoxene’s friends and crew, till her left hand became sore. Then she did her best to play with the skeletal horror, hidden under the black glove, and no one complained. By then, it was too early in the morning for anyone to notice whether she’d gotten worse or not. They were too drunk. About a dozen pirates had passed out.

She received more invitations to beds than she required, or could handle, but she turned them all down, gently. She never outright stated that she wouldn’t go to sleep with anyone, only that she was busy playing for the inn’s patrons. That she had a job to perform, while the rest of them got drunk out of their minds.

By the time she retired for the night, she did it by herself. And she didn’t rush back to her room above the inn. She gathered her coin, waved to those who’d not fallen asleep yet, and stepped out onto the beach.

A breeze tugged at her shirt, threatened to tear it open. A couple whispered loving words to each other in the underbrush next to the inn. If someone had revealed to her how she was still dead, and that this was the afterlife, she would have believed them. She wouldn’t even have resented the gods for placing her on the Isle of No Return.

She strolled along the beach, reminisced about days of yore, hours spent with Hymn, and made herself sad. She wouldn’t meet her twin again, not unless she discovered a route to Caelora, a village that might exist on the opposite end of the world.

Her dream had taken a serious blow, yet she’d not given up. Not yet. Phoxene’s offer presented her with an opportunity to attach herself to a worthy cause. To her, it didn’t matter whether the dolls succeeded or not.

Of course, she didn’t want to watch them fail in their quest to kill Thotrix, but she could write ballads about either outcome. If they succeeded, she’d write an epic about change and progress and successful dreams. If they failed, she’d mourn them through her music, and inspire others to mourn them too.

“I’m curious, singer…” The doll who’d kept to herself, who’d not introduced herself to Gale, caught up to her on the beach. Gale believed her name was Udfiol, if she’d not gotten it wrong. She had moons in different phases tattooed on her forehead.

“What about?” Gale yawned. “The stars? The world?”

Udfiol raised her gaze toward the stars twinkling above them, thousands upon thousands in the night sky, while a breeze messed up her auburn hair. “No.” She looked at Gale with blue eyes which resembled Iorvil’s, though hers were darker. “I am curious if you know songs of my people. If you’ve travelled…“

“I’m sorry.” Gale rubbed her elbow. “I don’t. I never met your people. Only Iorvil, and she didn’t teach me songs.”

They’d not spoken much, and in hindsight, she regretted how she’d not asked Iorvil for their songs when she spotted the disappointed smile on Udfiol’s stern face.

“What was she like as a person? Iorvil?” Udfiol turned towards the waves and the horizon. “Phoxene mentioned her, but I don’t believe she likes talking about her. Or she doesn’t like talking with me.”

“Phoxene is a softie! Why wouldn’t she like to talk with you!” Gale laughed but stopped as soon as she realized Udfiol didn’t get the joke. “Well… Iorvil was a giant…” That would describe all five of them though, so it didn’t provide anyone with much of an image. Hymn had told her she needed to get better at putting words on her thoughts, her feelings, because no one would listen to a singer who couldn’t. She’d not improved a great deal. “How do you view Phoxene?”

“Like my…” Udfiol hesitated. “Like my former master in the empire. Cold, merciless. Ice.”

“Accurate. But if Phoxene is ice, then Iorvil was…” Gale paused in search of the best word. Something Hymn might have used to describe Iorvil. “Sunlight. Morning. The belief that even in the darkest hour the sun will rise again, because you’re going to be pretty angry if it doesn’t.”

Udfiol chuckled, happiness brimmed in her eyes. “I like that. A lot. Thank you, singer.”

“It’s Gale…” Gale said but Udfiol didn’t stick around to listen. She trudged back the way she’d come through the sand while looking at the stars.

Gale liked Phoxene’s new friends. They were nothing like her. If she agreed to go with them on their journey, she could get to know them. She could write a ballad about each of them. If they’d lost their people, their god, and their champion, it seemed the least she could do.

The world ought to remember its people, but she didn’t have the time to write about everyone. She’d met several intriguing individuals since she’d escaped death, and only a rare few had transcended into her songs. Partly because some ballads didn’t catch on, and partly because she scrapped others. She wasn’t talented enough to document the life of every human and elf.

She removed her boots, approached the water, and walked barefoot. It was what her twin would have done, during a night like this, if she’d been with her. Gale missed Hymn like crazy, and it didn’t help that their faded, broken bond awakened at times to show her Hymn, Hope, Venviel, Art, and a new child she didn’t know the name of.

She figured the new child must belong to Hymn and Iorvil, but she’d not been there when he’d been born. Caelora had moved on without her. Would it be wrong of her to try to do the same?

Late

Niaris focused on memories of Gale in the hopes that it would bring her as close to the half-demon as possible. She emerged mid-air in Thylatserine, somewhere, and landed with a thud on uncomfortable planks.

“Now, Phoxene? Can’t you…”

It’d worked!

Niaris recognized Gale’s voice. No other mortal could sound so sweet, so friendly. The leaves of palm trees swayed around her, in a strong wind, brushed against the walkway she’d landed on. She must be a tad higher off the ground than usual.

“What was that?”

“You heard it too then.”

The snakes in her hair hissed at the second voice. It was uncommon for the ten of them to agree on anything, but she didn’t like the second voice either. It sounded too hostile, too snarky, as if the woman had never spoken a word of truth.

“I’ll check it out, someone might have had too much rum. You should return to your ship. I’m not…” Gale sighed, loud enough for Niaris to hear.

From what she could tell she’d appeared next to a house among the tree tops. A strange place to be, but not unpleasant. The night was very warm, hot even, and water stretched out in every direction as she stood. An ocean, two islands.

It was such a drastic change in environment from her prison that she gawked, caressed her own arms, smiled, and hugged herself. Thylatserine hadn’t gone anywhere. Mortals would still be around to befriend. She couldn’t wait.

A door opened around the corner, Gale peeked outside. “Who’s there? I can sleep alone, don’t worry.”

“It’s…”

Niaris wanted to shout to Gale that she’d arrived, that she’d found her, but she froze. What if Gale hadn’t wanted her to follow? What if she’d hoped they would never see each other again? What if Gale despised her now, because of the unfortunate incident with the hand?

Oh no, she’d messed up. She should have left Gale alone to live her life. Now she might only remind her of how she’d died, and mortals never liked that. Not ever.

Another woman stepped past the door, out of Gale’s home, and shook her red hair, so the wind caught it. Niaris knew she’d definitely made a mistake when the giant human turned toward her, and crossed her arms under her chest. This human didn’t want competition, not for Gale’s friendship, or anything else in the world. She wanted to destroy everyone. Niaris sensed it in her grey-green eyes.

“A new demon.” Phoxene grabbed Gale’s horn and twisted her head, so she would see her. “Friend of yours, daft girl?”

Yes!

“No…” Gale murmured, shuddered at the sight of Niaris’ snakes, surely, and hid behind the door. “She’s the creature I mentioned… Who gave me the hand.”

“I…” Niaris had to fight her emotions lest she cry and they laugh at her. The hand had not been intentional, and she had saved Gale from a worse fate. Gale wouldn’t be alive today, if it wasn’t for her. She should at least make an attempt to stand her ground. Mortals respected that, sometimes.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Phoxene chuckled, trailed her fierce gaze over her body, and convinced Niaris to withdraw within herself. She’d not encountered such forwardness in centuries. “Why would you trade a cutie like that for this sorry existence?”

“Because I wanted nothing to do with gods, because she… She’s the daughter of…” Gale threw her head back, in exasperation, and grunted. “Forget it. I had plenty of reasons. I wanted to live, unlike you, apparently.”

Phoxene toyed with the top button on her shirt, chewed on her lip, and stepped closer. “Who are you the daughter of?” The giant asked, bent down in front of Niaris, and unbuttoned the button she’d toyed with to reveal the shapeliness of her bosom. “Cutie, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” Niaris nodded, the snakes in her hair seemed distracted by what Phoxene revealed while she leaned forward. They did like to hide in clothes and fabrics. “I’m no one’s daughter, by the definition of mortals. I’m a demigod. Dyella’s demigod. Goddess of love.”

“Dyella is…” Gale paused.

“What?” Niaris leaned to the side, so she could look at Gale instead of the giant exposing herself. “You were about to tell me, last we met, but you were interrupted. Please, I need to know.”

“I don’t.” Gale lifted her arms in a defeated gesture. “Dyella isn’t the goddess of love. Not anymore. She’s not been the goddess of love for centuries, but I don’t know what’s happened to her. I only know the current goddess of love, and that’s why…”

Niaris swallowed the sudden dejection. The ten snakes in her hair tried to distract her by sliding along her head and teasing her ears by flicking their forked tongues across them. She’d suspected a terrible fate had befallen her mother, her creator, but she’d not wanted to accept it. She’d hid like a coward.

“Don’t get too sad.” Phoxene laid an arm around her, guided her over to Gale as a smirk flashed across her lips. She reeked of rum, sweat, fire. “You’re free, like us, now. We should celebrate, shouldn’t we? Friends reunited the night before our departure. We could use someone powerful like you…”

“Niaris,” Niaris said, though perhaps she should have given her another name. She didn’t trust the giant’s charm.

Gale put a hand on Phoxene’s arm and nodded toward four majestic ships in the water before she could lead Niaris inside the home. “I’ll care for Niaris, to the best of my abilities, because she cared for me. To the best of her abilities.”

“I did! I wish I’d done better by you, but—”

“It’s fine.”

“I saw her first, Gale.” Phoxene insisted. “She’s coming with me, if she’s a demigod.”

“Why?”

“I’ll bring her with me, when I come with you.” Gale glared at Phoxene, grabbed Niaris hand, and held it. She enjoyed the touch, more than she’d thought possible. Gale was soft and warm and friendly and protective.

“She’s coming with us.” Phoxene gritted her teeth, refused to surrender.

Niaris didn’t understand what was going on, or why they both pulled on her. She’d gone from feeling unwanted, unwelcome, to thinking it might have been best if she’d not followed someone like Gale. She didn’t know her. She seemed like a criminal, with the company she kept.

Phoxene let go of her the moment one of her snakes lashed out for the giant’s face. It didn’t bite her, but she probably didn’t appreciate being attacked. “You best stick to your word, daft girl, or we’ll have a problem.”

“I will, Phoxene. I will.”

“Good.” Phoxene patted Niaris on the back, bowed, and walked away with quick steps. She disappeared around the corner of the home.

Gale ran a hand along her horns, sighed. “Why did you come here, Niaris? Why did you follow me?”

“I…” Niaris didn’t want to waste Gale’s time, if she had other things to do, but she didn’t want to leave her either. The memories of their weeks together had kept her going, and eventually, it had encouraged her to free herself. “You’re my friend, Gale. I worried about you, a lot.”

Gale quirked an eyebrow, gestured for her to step inside her home. Niaris hadn’t been invited inside anyone’s home in so long. The abode may appear plain with a single bed, a chair, and a table, but she would show respect. She’d demonstrate how she appreciated the hospitality Gale extended to her so readily.

“What are you waiting for?” Gale released her hand. “Go inside.”

“It’s an honour!”

Friend-shaped

Gale had assumed she’d never see Niaris in the flesh again. She’d believed her when she’d told her she was a prisoner of the realm of those who worshipped no god, and therefore rejected their chances at the afterlife. Gale wouldn’t claim to follow any god, if asked, if pushed, but she’d made an offering or two to the golden goddess, Fate, since she’d been restored to the living. She’d prayed to her.

“Ah, are you going to sleep?” Niaris hung her head. “Should I return tomorrow? In the morning?”

“It’s morning.” Gale gestured at the open hole, in the wall, above the table. The sun would start crawling across the horizon, a little too soon for her liking, even if the stars hadn’t gone to bed themselves yet.

Niaris’s bright green, snake-like eyes widened. “You have to take care of yourself, Gale. Get enough rest. As your friend, I don’t want to watch you die again.”

“You didn’t watch me die the first time...” Gale shut the door behind her, slid her arms out of her shirt, and undid the belt around her pants. She didn’t think anything of Niaris’ presence before she noticed her fidgeting and trying to look everywhere else except straight at her. “What?”

“I can leave. Wait outside.”

“You’ve watched me sleep.” Gale had known Niaris had watched over her, during her time in the realm of the dead. She’d almost told her to leave her alone, again, but she’d hated the idea of being left to sleep on cold obsidian, by herself, without anyone. A primal hunch had told her it would be awful.

“You were dead. You’re alive, warm, today.” Niaris inspected her hand and stretched her fingers. “Friendlier.”

Gale had grabbed that hand to protect the demigod from Phoxene and her schemes, but she’d not thought much of it. Niaris had been warm too, warmer than she’d remembered. The demigod was cute, she wouldn’t disagree with Phoxene.

The pale snakes that made up Niaris hair distracted from her face, guarded their mistress, but she had winsome features. A button nose, rounded lips, long eyelashes. She wore an elegant white and black robe with a hood, yet she never hid her unique hair.

Gale believed the goddess who had created her had spent hours going over her appearance, if only to make the daughter she’d always imagined for herself. She might have preferred Dyella over Furore, as the goddess of love. Everyone might have been prettier, including her. She might not have had a tail to trip over, or a horror as a hand. Although, she wouldn’t want snakes to replace her horns.

“It might be best if you leave. Phoxene—“

“I agree.” Niaris met her eyes. “This is inappropriate of me. I shouldn’t take advantage of a mortal, even if I’ve been alone so long it feels like I’m going to die if I walk out your door.”

“I, uh…” Gale would have told Niaris to leave the area, altogether, rather than stay and allow Phoxene to dig her nails into her if she’d not interrupted. But Niaris’ confession stunned her, persuaded her to think of something else to say. She’d rejected everyone else’s offers for the night, so she had no one to occupy her time. “You can stay, Niaris. Up to you. I’m not against—“

“No!” Niaris exclaimed, cast her gaze between the door and the open hole in the wall, and walked over to the hole. At least until Gale stepped aside, so she could leave the way she’d come. She changed her mind about climbing out then. “Apologies for barging in on you like this Gale. I’m too powerful. I shouldn’t take advantage of someone.”

“I wouldn’t have minded…” She whispered while Niaris stepped past her to open the door.

The demigod lingered in the doorway, the snakes watched Gale with great curiosity. A new, fresh scent of citrus and chocolate blended with the familiar stench of the ocean air. Gale had not had a sense of smell to rely on while dead, but she wished she had because Niaris smelled tasty like candy.

“I shouldn’t have followed you. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Let’s see where your mistake goes…?”

Niaris lifted her chin, nodded subtly, and left without shutting the door after herself. Her fast footsteps echoed across the walkway outside. The hair on Gale’s arms rose, while her mind begged her to pursue the demigod who’d saved her life from eternity, and reward Niaris for her selfless act.

Favour for Favour

Furore could seek Rhabour out, no problem, but she was in no rush. She flew from forest to city to ocean to lake. Invisible to millions of mortal eyes. Fate thought herself so clever that Furore would never find her again, but Fate hadn’t outsmarted her. Furore would catch her, sooner or later. She didn’t have to beg the god of time for help. Besides, what if she needed him in the future, and she’d wasted a favour on Fate? It would be utterly regrettable.

She stopped in the middle of a clearing in the Freow Woods. A group of deer pranced around the side of a lake, ate grass, berries, and basked in the sunlight. Crows cawed in the tall trees. She didn’t want to assume, but Fate could transform into any animal in the world like every other god. Could she have, maybe, transformed into a deer and decided to live among them…? Would the goddess of destiny and luck prefer such a life, perhaps?

“Fate!” Furore shouted.

The deer raised their heads, stared at her as one, but didn’t respond. None of them dropped their disguise and fled. She supposed she’d been silly to think they would, but on the other hand, what if Fate wouldn’t drop her disguise at the first sign of trouble? What if she’d gotten used to living a secret life as a deer?

Furore teleported into the middle of the herd. The deer fled, spooked, and bounced deeper into the forest. She could have chased them, but it seemed a waste. They weren’t gods in disguise. They were animals.

“Rhabour, I might need a favour…” Furore muttered to herself, simply practicing if she did decide to seek him out. She didn’t like begging. “Rhabour, you owe me.”

“I’m very grateful for what you did for Iorvil, but I deem it up to me to decide how to repay you.”

The air by the lakeside shimmered and shifted. Rhabour became visible where he floated over the lake, in the shape she’d first encountered him in. He’d been sick, dying, on the moon then. Today, his gryphon body gleamed with radiance and his fur had taken on an alabaster shine with golden dots. He looked healthier, even if he hadn’t become a lot stronger.

“You stalking me, old man?”

“I like to keep close to you, Fiona, while I regain my strength.” He smiled, apologetically. “You would defend me, if only because I’d owe you a greater debt.”

“Right, well, you do owe me.” She waved her hand, summoned a throne out of the dirt, and sat down, slumped. “I need your help finding Fate. She—“

“I might know where she is, Furore, but…” Rhabour blew smoke out of his nostrils. “Why don’t you go to her yourself? What’s stopping you?”

“She…” Furore couldn’t sense Fate’s presence in the world of mortals, so either the goddess masked it from her, or she might have a safe haven. “Doesn’t matter. Tell me where she is, and I’ll think of it as payment on the first favour you owe me.”

“It matters to me.” Rhabour chuckled. “I won’t set another war in motion, if that’s what you’re thinking. And you’re a puzzle, Furore. I don’t know what you’re thinking, or doing, half of the time. Fate may be wounded, hurt, because of something you did. How would I know?”

She snorted. “If anyone’s hurt, it’s me. She threw me aside like I was worthless, defective, and stole my dagger.” Furore made an attempt to grab Grinja out of the ether, like she’d done on numerous occasions throughout the centuries, yet nothing happened. Her champion didn’t fly to her side.

“Why?” Rhabour rolled around, laid on his side in the air, without falling into the water.

“Said I was evil…” Furore dug her long nails into the dirt armrests of her throne. “That she couldn’t be with me because she wants to change. Become someone else. Someone—“

“Someone better.”

“Can you believe the audacity? After everything I did for her, everything we did together. She doesn’t even give me another chance, so we can be…” Furore growled at the stench of what might have been her own heart, sagging, if she’d ever had a heart. It reeked worse than unrequited, depressing love. It needed to be squished like larvae.

“Together?” Rhabour smiled with his entire face.

“What difference does it make?”

“Who would have thought?” Rhabour laughed, smoke billowed out of his nostrils. “There is good within you, Furore, even if it’s just that one thing. One tiny flower that can’t break through the rot and decay. I’m happy to learn this circle can surprise me too. A demon who isn’t sheer evil. A demon who loves.”

“Keep your opinions to yourself, old man, or Iorvil might find herself with so many children she can’t serve as your champion.“

“It’s not a lifetime assignment.”

She glared at him. If she’d known he’d behave this way, she wouldn’t have asked for his help. She could have asked anyone else. One of the elves that worshipped the ground she walked on could have been tasked with finding Fate, and if they’d failed, she would have eaten them in front of Rhabour. She wasn’t evil or good. She was above such simplistic morals.

“I have a suggestion for you, demon.” Rhabour landed by the lakeside, stretched his long tail far into the lake, and sat on his haunches. “A challenge.”

“What?” She spat the question.

“See for yourself whether you’ve done more good than evil in the world.” Rhabour clawed at the dirt with his foot, grinned. “If you have, perhaps you ought to change too. Take Fate’s words into consideration, but don’t make her your goal in this. Young gods come and go, through the timelines. If you wish to last, you might need to grow too. Mortals are fickle.”

“I bet you know exactly where I should begin too, don’t you?”

“Your couples? Have you checked on them since you pushed them together? Are they happy or miserable? What about your city? Lho Allanar?” Rhabour sighed. “Were you going to do anything with it, except leave it alone?”

“How is that your—“

“You invited me to pry. I’m giving you advice on how to change and impress Fate.” Rhabour flapped his wings and sent leaves flying her direction and ripples across the surface of the lake. “If you make an attempt, even a small one, I’ll help you find her. However, that is my condition. If she doesn’t want to meet you, I have no reason to unite you.”

“I…” Furore crossed her legs, groaned. She’d nothing better to do with what little spare time she had. The list of lovers would order her to fling herself to every corner of the continent, but at least she’d gotten more efficient. “Guess I could visit my old friends.”

Unfeeling

Phoxene undressed, folded her shirt and pants into a neat pile, placed them at the foot of her bed next to her boots, and gazed out of the window in the captain’s cabin on the Gustfin. The Isle of No Return irritated her with its beauty.

If Gale had not opted to be difficult, they could have spent the night together in her cabin. The daft girl did not need to sleep on top of the inn anymore. Phoxene had restored her ship to glory, procured new furniture, since Iorvil and her brethren had wrecked it. The Gustfin may not possess the luxury it’d once had, but it was homey. At least she thought so, even if no one else did.

She lay down on top of her bed, hid her forearms under the blankets lest she have to watch the cogs of her shackles click and whirr and spin, and stared at the ceiling. Despite how they found themselves in a tropical climate, her cabin seemed colder tonight than it had in weeks.

Gale should have joined her, or at least allowed her to bring the demigod. She could have seduced Niaris, twisted her mind around in spirals until she found herself completely confused, and employed her against Thotrix. A demigod must be a powerful weapon.

The wind whistled outside, caused the wood to creak. Phoxene hadn’t gotten used to the silence inside the Gustfin yet. A decade may have passed, yet she could remember in vivid detail the nights and days she’d spent serving the empire’s elite.

The Gustfin had transported soldiers often, but its master, her master, had liked to use it for social gatherings too. He’d brought his family with him on several excursions. His sons and daughters had showed her greater kindness than anyone within the empire’s border. She didn’t miss them, but she might have brought them news of their father’s death, if she could have escaped unscathed afterwards. Unfortunately, they would have claimed her head.

Peace would not prosper in the world until someone put an end to Thotrix and similar gods. She had a couple of leads on artefacts. Divine weapons the gods had crafted in their wars against each other.

Tomorrow, they would set out another leg of their quest. They would uncover the secrets they needed, even if it took decades, and slay Thotrix. For the sake of Saufnein, Kan, Udfiol, and every machine.

Too long, she listened to the silence, the wood creak, and stared at the ceiling without shutting her eyes. She thought of Gale and Niaris, and what they might be doing without her. In no way did she care, but she was curious. How did they look like together? What did they smell like? Sound like?

Neither of them could make her feel for them, so they made for a suitable couple, but she would have preferred to join in on the fun. She was attractive, many had told her that, Gale had made her believe it. Logically, it had to be fact.

She played their seductive games better than anyone, so why was she left out? Why not invite her? She owned a ship, ruled a fleet, but she always stood apart whether she wished to or not. It shouldn’t bother her. It had been her existence since she’d been a child, so why couldn’t she fall asleep? Alone? Why did Gale torment her?

A Siren’s Call

Niaris’s heart fluttered like a dragonfly, and thudded, thudded in her chest. She’d made a mistake when she’d followed Gale. She ought to have known friendship might inspire deeper feelings, wrong feelings. She was a demigod. A servant of the goddess of love, Dyella, and she shouldn’t take advantage of those weaker than her.

She walked hundreds of meters out into the ocean, atop the wild waves, before she stopped to look at the island and ramshackle building behind her. If Gale had told her the truth about Dyella, and she feared she had, maybe the rules had changed. Maybe she’d no reason to worry about taking advantage of anyone because her creator wouldn’t appear to punish her anyway.

Or maybe she’d no idea where she was going, and at least Gale provided her with what she’d longed for during centuries of imprisonment. Friendship.

In spite of Dyella’s teachings, and her upbringing, Niaris returned to the islands. By the time she arrived on the beach, the sun had begun to paint the eastern horizon orange and bright. She imagined Gale had fallen asleep, and didn’t want to wake her. She climbed onto the walkway that surrounded her friend’s home, up on top of the roof, and sat and watched the sunrise for the first time in hundreds of years with her legs crossed.

She pulled the harp Dyella had given her out from under her robe, traced its outline with her fingers, and listened to her snakes hiss at each other. She couldn’t understand their language, if they had one, but she could understand their intentions every once in a while. She liked to think they enjoyed the sunrise as much as she did.

If Gale hadn’t been asleep, she might have played her harp for her. She would have loved to show Gale how she could play, but the half-demon might not appreciate her brand of music. She might not care.

Niaris could sleep, whenever she wished, but it wasn’t a necessity. She wasn’t mortal and didn’t have their weaknesses. When she slept, she did it because she wanted to, not because she needed rest. She could enter the realm of dreams through sleep, but right now, it felt like a waste of time.

She enjoyed the sound of insects, and squawking parrots, while the sun climbed over the horizon. After all the years among the unchained dead, she wanted to live every moment of every day for twice as long as she’d been imprisoned.

She would have liked to meet Dyella, and speak with her again, but since she suspected she’d discover the uncomfortable, miserable truth about her mother, she pushed it ahead of her. Dyella might be dead, but unless she found proof, she could pretend they would meet again. That they would walk Thylatserine together. Gods did not have the benefit of an afterlife, but Niaris could fantasize. It seemed vital.

Hours passed while she sat on top of Gale’s home, unmoving. She noticed lightly dressed men and women on the ships, on the beach, headed for the ramshackle building under Gale’s home. She’d no idea what they may hope to find there, and even if she was curious beyond belief, she didn’t wish to scare them. They might not like snakes. They might hate demigods.

She doubted they would welcome her as one of them, unless they’d met other demigods, and she’d not been in this part of the world. She’d no idea where she was. No idea how to get to places she recognized.

Without Gale, she would have been lost. With Gale, she might pretend she had purpose. She could be a friend and join Gale on that journey the unpleasant giant had mentioned. She’d nothing better to do with her time, no one that missed her. No one that would reprimand her for getting too involved with mortals.

She quivered, when her heart skipped around inside of her chest yet again, and hid her face in her palms. Gale had led her astray, and the half-demon might lead her even further astray if she didn’t control her thoughts. If she lingered near Gale, she would lose. She would give in to lust like everyone else did when beckoned by desire.

“Niaris!”

She clenched her eyes shut the moment she heard Gale’s voice call out for her in particular out of every soul in the realms. Someone who sang with such beauty knew her name.

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to listen to Gale sing a song dedicated to her, and lost herself to fantasy. She almost heard the half-demon hum and sing about her and their time together, her snakes, imprisonment, desperation. Friendship.

“Niaris? Did you leave?” Gale appeared below, on the walkway, scratched her bald head.  “Damn… Phoxene is going to be pissed.”

The swearing tore Niaris out of her cutesy fantasies about the mortal. Gale was nothing like she imagined her, but she should give her a chance. Friends accepted their friends, regardless of whatever deep flaws they flaunted to the world.

“I’m up here.” She whispered, without intending to, and raised her voice before Gale could wander off. “Here! Up, here!”

Gale waved at her, flashed a smirk that seemed too seductive to belong between two friends. “Impressive! Do you want to come down to me, or should I crawl up to you?”

She could have sworn Gale winked. She hid her harp under her robe, stood, and brushed off whatever dust and seeds had landed on her during the hours she’d sat motionless and waited for someone special. Someone that offered friendship, with benefits, if she severed the chains of the past.

“I’ll come down.”

She stepped off the roof, fell, and crashed through the walkway in front of Gale. The planks proved too rotten to stop her rapid descent. She ended up entangled in vines and branches, covered in leaves.

“What…?” Gale laughed, poked her head into the hole Niaris had created. She looked too beautiful, too kind, when she eyed her with such genuine concern. “You’re not hurt, are you? Do you need help?”

“I’m not hurt, no.” Niaris attempted to free herself from the vines, her snakes helped her cut herself loose by biting into the foliage around them. But it wasn’t enough. She remained suspended above the ground, trapped. “I could use help, you’re not wrong.”

“Hmm…” Gale glanced behind her, sunlight reflected in her cyan eyes. “Well, this isn’t what I planned to do this fine morning, but it’s a change of pace.”

Gale lowered herself into the hole, slid down the vines, and stopped on top of Niaris. They came too close when the half-demon sat on her, pulled a dagger off her belt, and started cutting her loose.

“Couldn’t you have climbed down to the beach and gone around?” Niaris asked. She didn’t want to imagine what she might have done, where she might have touched, if her hands and arms hadn’t gotten stuck in the vines.

“I suppose, but it’s faster this way.” Gale beamed. “And I don’t want to leave a woman waiting too long on me.”

“I—”

She fell again, along with Gale, as one of them cut the wrong vine. They landed in a heap on the hard ground, and she heard air forced out of the mortal’s lungs. Panicked, she sat up, yanked her arms free of their slackened restraints, and hugged Gale in a misguided attempt to shield her. Too late.

“This is nice, Niaris…” Gale gasped for air next to her ear. “But I think your snakes will bite me. Any second.”

“Don’t bite her.” She ordered them. While a couple of them hissed, none attacked.

Gale leaned back, seated in her lap, and grinned as if they’d not just fallen out of the trees. From the improper look in her eyes, they might simply have spent a moment getting closer to each other.

Niaris could survive much higher falls than Gale though, so she might have survived unscathed while her friend had broken bones. “You’re not hurt?”

“We should kiss.” Gale put her hands on top of her shoulders.

“Should we?” Niaris squinted, scowled. “I’d like to know you didn’t break anything, vital, not whether you think we should kiss. It was my fault. I’ll…” She really shouldn’t try to heal her again, not after what had happened last time.

“Rough landing.” Gale massaged her shoulders. “But I’ve been through worse, and you broke my fall. I died once. Long story, I’ll tell it to you one day.”

“I think you may have already…”

She let go off Gale when the half-demon brought her face closer, way too close, so close their noses brushed against each other. This wasn’t love. Gale was driven by lust. If Dyella would have asked anything of her when it came to love, it would have been to not surrender to the lust of a mortal. They were crazy. They launched fleets and started wars because their desires spurred them on.

Niaris shoved Gale off her, so she stumbled to her feet and landed in another set of vines which she might not escape on her own. She’d not meant to send the mortal flying, but she supposed Gale could remain stuck where she was until someone poured a bucket of ice over her to cool her head.

“I’m your friend, Gale.” Niaris stood, brushed her robe clean, and straightened her back. “You shouldn’t push it further than that. You might awaken another, darker side of me, and neither of us would like that. I don’t listen to the influence of lust.”

“I do.” Gale chuckled, ran a hand across her forehead. “I’m sorry if I… if I pushed too hard, too soon. It wasn’t my intention. I may have gotten too used to pirates and their morals, while living with them. Hymn would have liked you though. A friend who could whip me back into shape.”

“Your shape is perfect the way it is, Gale, and I do not own a whip.” She turned around toward the beach, visible through the underbrush and the palm trees. “Do you need my help getting free?”

“I can manage.”

“Great!” Niaris took a step away from the half-demon, her snakes hissed, and the realization that she was about to abandon a friend in need struck her. “If I… if I assist you, will you keep your hands to yourself?”

“Should I? What if I need to reach around you to free myself?”

“That’s…” Niaris faced Gale again only to discover that she’d freed herself, in no time, and stood right in front of her with a confident grin on her face.

“Not the first time I got stuck here.” Gale tapped her index finger against her lips. “You know, I once charmed a scary doll into loving me, thanks to my inspiring voice.”

“P-please don’t!” Niaris feared Gale might truly be skilled enough to get her to do whatever she wished, if she only sang the words.

“Oh?” Gale pushed her index and middle finger against her bottom lip, stepped up to her, brushed past, and made her heart race like it’d never raced for another in creation. “No worries, Niaris. I heard you the first time. I’ll find another way to reward you for what you did for me when you saved my life.” Gale seemed to make an effort to slide her body along hers when she stepped around her. “Hero.”

“I-I-I…” Niaris bit her tongue, lest she stutter till night fell.

Gale disappeared into the underbrush, and reappeared shortly afterwards on the beach. She wondered whether she should beg Dyella to save her from what she’d gotten caught up in.

“Come on, hero! We still have time for breakfast before Phoxene demands our presence on the Gustfin!”

She didn’t like showing herself among mortals, not without her mother, but if Gale wanted to share a meal with her, she wouldn’t turn her down. She would join her, as a friend. Just a friend. No more.

Death or Worse

Gale grabbed two plates of crab with seaweed and sat at the same table as Saufnein. Niaris tiptoed across the planks of the inn, as if she worried she’d crash through those too. The pirates didn’t notice the demigod at first, but when a couple of them did, they made their friends aware of the strange presence by nudging them with their fists. Soon everyone stared, discreetly, without drawing too much attention.

“Greetings…” Saufnein crossed his arms behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and burped. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a demigod?”

“Word spread fast,” Gale said.

“Phoxene may be a cruel taskmaster, but she keeps her captains informed. On a need to know basis. And clearly, she thought this…” He waved his hand at Niaris, donned an endearing smile. “Woman was important to know about in case someone took issue with her, and we needed to keep them in check.”

“Sure, that’s why…” Gale pushed the second plate in front of Niaris when she sat next to her. “It’s got nothing to do with how Phoxene thinks she can assist you, with you know what, and doesn’t want me to hog Niaris to myself.”

“Niaris, eh?” Saufnein ignored what she’d said, extended his hand across the table, and offered it to Niaris to shake.

The demigod hesitated, her snakes hissed, but soon grabbed his hand and shook it. “Yes.”

“Pleasure. I’m Saufnein, but everyone calls me Sauft these days, makes it easier on the poor bastards we hire. They don’t have to remember three unusual, long names if we shorten mine. And Phoxene and Udfiol are far too unapproachable to have nicknames.”

“They are…?” Niaris picked at the seaweed on her plate, contorted her face.

“I talked with Udfiol last night.” Gale took a piece of crab, shoved it into her mouth, and continued speaking while chewing on the soft meat. “She’s a lot friendlier than Phoxene. Although, I did tame the—“

“None of that talk.” Saufnein interrupted, eyed her with an austere look. “Not in front of the crew, not about the captain of our fleet. We don’t need one of our ships to fall out of the sky, at an inopportune moment, because someone mutinied.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She’d overheard worse comments, about other pirate captains, but maybe she really had spent too much time with them now.

She’d travelled along the coast, from village to village, until she’d discovered a pirate city. Then she’d stayed in that city for months before setting sail with a crew and finally arriving at the Isle of No Return. Nights and days had bled into each other. She couldn’t tell for sure how much time had passed in the company of pirates.

“I eat this with my hands?” Niaris asked.

“Yup.” Gale nodded, lifted a piece of crab off her plate, and proposed to feed it to her. At least if the crews of the airships watched her feed this demigod, they might not flirt with her themselves. “It tastes… good enough.” She lowered her voice. “Kind of bland, but it’s not the worst I’ve eaten here.”

“Careful the chef don’t hear you.” Saufnein raised his tankard, drank.

“Gale, you…” Niaris hesitated long enough for one of her snakes to snatch the crab out of her fingers. “You don’t have to feed me.”

“Well, tell me what I can do to repay you then.” She placed her gloved hand on the table, next to her plate. It was a small price to pay for rebirth, truth be told. If she could have worshipped Niaris, she might have done that. “What do you want from me?”

Saufnein grinned at them from behind his tankard, and whistled to make it seem like he wasn’t listening in on their conversation. She’d never met a man as tall as him, but she knew his type. He wasn’t that different from people she’d befriended with her music in Caelora.

“I want…” Niaris began, grabbed a handful of seaweed and crab, and stuffed it into her mouth. She struggled to chew, yet she didn’t seem repulsed by the taste. She reached for a second handful before she’d finished the first.

“Think about it, you can tell me when you’ve decided.” She pointed a finger at Saufnein with her gloved hand. “So why are you sitting around relaxing, drinking, on the day of your departure? Don’t you have orders from way on high?”

“Keeping an eye on the crew to ensure everyone who disembarked comes with us when we leave.” He put this tankard on the table. “Way I see it, we need as many competent fighters and cannoneers as we can assemble. Can’t hire everyone though. Can’t afford it.”

She lifted seaweed from her plate, dropped it, and lay across the table to whisper to him. “You wanna bet I can expand your crew with bloodthirsty warriors, for free?”

“How?” He ruffled his hair. “You plan to spin them a ditty and make them dance aboard our ships?”

“I could do it, I’m amazing.” She looked around for a lute, since she’d left the one Niaris had given her with her belongings in her room. The inn kept another behind the counter. The owner had played with her a couple of times. “Besides, they were all clamouring for their chance to ask questions about your airships yesterday. They don’t like gods either, except their king of the sea. Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to travel with you, if they could?”

“You might attract a few adventurers with loose allegiances to their current captains.”

“What do I get if I do it?” Gale reclined in her chair, stopped lying across the table. “What do you want to bet, Sauft?”

He scratched his beard. “I’ve not got much. What do you want? I could try and get you a gift, wherever we land.”

“A gift worth the contributions of my recruits.”

“Might be arranged.”

She rose to her feet, ran to the counter, and dove over it to grab the lute. Due to bad luck, and nothing else, she crashed into the shelves along the floor. But no matter. She had a strong, thick head, and the owner didn’t seem to be nearby anyway.

“Are you alive, Gale?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered more to herself than for Niaris’ ears, grabbed the wooden lute, and leapt onto the counter. “Listen up you lazy land lubbers! In less than an hour, I’ll be leaving this sorry isle, so this is my final song!”

She strummed an upbeat tune on the unadorned lute and kicked a tankard over. It went sailing across the room, knocked into a square pillar. “My farewell to men and women I’ve shared many fine nightly adventures with, but sadly, our paths must now part.”

“Noooo!” Someone shouted.

“Of course, those who wish to defy their creators could join me on an adventure…” She hummed a slow, thoughtful intro. “A risky venture.”

Niaris clapped her hands, ecstatically. She was alone in doing so, but Gale could tell she’d caught her audience. They may not clap, yet they listened, stopped chatting with each other, and waited for another masterpiece. Not that she would call her other songs masterpieces, but they would, so who was she to disagree?

“We plan to kill a god…” She sang, quietly, but the inn lay silent enough for everyone to hear, even those who stood on the wharf.

“We do?” Niaris mumbled, with a mouth full of seaweed.

“A man that’s naught but a fraud…” She winked.

The demigod had nothing to worry about in her presence. Since she’d saved her from death, Gale planned to protect her from mortals, pirates, scum, and villainy. Everything terrible the world might throw at someone innocent.

“Now I may do this for a broad, but not because she’s made me flawed. No, oh no, nothing should be done in the belief tis a mistake.” Gale extended her leg, played her lute, stepped out into the air, and landed on the floor without crashing through any planks. “Not the murder of a fraud, or a fake. Ooh, you’re welcome to remain here, my dears, or come with me to a shared wake.”

She carried a note louder, louder. Not one ear turned from her to listen to something else, because nothing else was worth listening to when she played and sang, cut her heart in halves and served it to her audience through a harrowing voice.

“What would kill a god, you think, you ask…” She spun in a circle on the spot. “That is our task, to put a death mask, on that which cannot be shoved in a cask.”

Saufnein mimicked clapping his hands, but she wasn’t finished. She stepped onto the chair she’d sat on a moment ago, onto the table, and looked down at her new companions. Saufnein laughed, Niaris stared off into the distance.

“If you come with us to our wake, you’ll have a stake in becoming an ache to those who forsake and remake,” She sang, grinned at the pirates in the inn, and those outside, while she shredded the strings of her lute in a burst of odd inspiration. Her music had never sounded so raw and earnest at once. “Admit it, dears, it’s what you’ve always yearned for. Legends of your own make. These shores will wait till they’re sour, but we are leaving within the hour. If you’re not to labour on airships, to scour the skies, you’ll regret it forever and ever and never stop glower. How dour.”

They clapped, threw coins at her, and she curtsied to them, still on top of the table. She’d no idea whether she’d convinced anyone to come with her, not at first, but when a few rose from their tables, she suspected her song might have struck a chord.

“I hope you’ll provide food for those who do volunteer,” Saufnein said. “Still, I must confess, if I was a pirate myself, I might have started packing what little I own to go down in history.”

Gale had a genius idea. “Everyone who does come with me, us, on this journey will have their name written into an epic by my hand! Every title you may once have possessed! I shall include you in our story.”

Half of the pirates cheered at that, raised their tankards, clinked them against each other, and drank. Gale appreciated their enthusiasm, yet Niaris’ sullen demeanour brought her back down.

She dropped off the table, pulled her chair closer to the demigod, and sat. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Niaris glanced at Saufnein, from under the snakes which had gotten livelier after the song.

“I guess I better inform Phoxene about our potential new recruits.” Saufnein got up, stretched his arms. “I’ll leave you two alone, for now. Don’t make us fetch you, Gale.”

Niaris turned to her while Saufnein and others headed outside, observed her with her snake-like eyes, and took Gale’s hands in her own. “I’m concerned, Gale. Are you a… Are you a criminal?”

Gale forced herself to cough lest she laugh Niaris in the face. “I might be.” She squeezed the demigod’s fingers with her left hand. “Is that an issue?”

“It…” Niaris paled. “What god do you intend to kill? Are they evil? Have they wronged you? Please, this isn’t solely about becoming legends, is it? Mortals are wonderful as they are. You have nothing to prove to anyone.”

“Thotrix. Have you heard of…” By the shock visible on Niaris’ face, Gale realized she’d heard of the god of inventions. She didn’t have to ask the question.

“Thotrix helped Dyella create me. I told you, Thotrix is my…” Niaris whispered, hardened her face. “I’m coming with you, Gale, but if you tell anyone what I told you, I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll put you back where we met.” Niaris hissed like one of her snakes, revealed a forked tongue.

Gale nodded, withdrew her hands from Niaris’ tightening grip. She could keep a secret, and she had no reason to tell anyone how Niaris and Thotrix were related, if one could call it that. She just hoped the truth wouldn’t come out anyway, somehow. If it did, Phoxene might decide she needed Niaris’ head on a plate as well to sate her hunger for justice.

“Your secret will go with me to my grave.”

“Yes, it will.” Niaris nodded, then her lips trembled, and gloom claimed her face. “Oh no, I’m sorry.” She threw her arms around Gale, hugged her hard. “I didn’t mean to threaten you. I loved your song, you’re amazing, Gale. I want us to be friends.”

“Thank you…” Gale didn’t know what to think, but she patted Niaris’ back. “We can be friends. Don’t worry, hero. Ask for it, I’m yours for the night. Past lovers called me a goat that never quits, so I’m a little proud of my boundless energy.”

“You made my hug inappropriate.” Niaris stopped hugging her, stuffed another handful of crab and seaweed into her mouth, and rose from the table. “I’m taking my leave. Friends don’t help friends with their lusts.”

“Don’t they?” Gale battered her lashes at Niaris. “Don’t they? And if they don’t, don’t you wish they would?”

“You…” Niaris searched for an answer, huffed, and stomped off after Saufnein and the rest. She did seem to leave indentations in the wood while angry.

Princess of the Woods

Furore strolled along a forest path that slithered out of Lho Allanar until she stumbled upon a quaint, sunlit hut in a grove in the Freow Woods. Birds sang to each other about how horny they were. Spirits in the shape of glowing rabbits rushed ahead of her in front of her feet to warn their elven mistress.

Humans may have missed the walkways and firefly lanterns in the trees, but she’d become accustomed to the architecture of elves. If she were to hazard a guess, the hut was only one part of a much larger structure which incorporated rooms in trees and caves underground. Syvis and Nimue had constructed a castle of their own, since she’d last seen them.

She’d never had to contribute much for the two ancient elves to fall for each other. In a way, since she’d ransomed their love to encourage Fayeth to drop to her knees and beg, she’d been more of an obstacle.

Nevertheless, they’d been among her first couples as the goddess of love, and if they’d done well for themselves without her interference, it would demonstrate that her indifferent approach to love could do good.

An arrow landed in the dirt at her feet, but she wouldn’t let the obvious threat deter her from ensuring that her mortals could handle themselves without constant encouragement.

“Not a step further, whoever you are!” Syvis appeared from behind the trunk of one of the Freow Woods massive trees, dressed in a hooded dark green garb. She’d already nocked another arrow to her bow, drawn it, and aimed it at Furore. “Had it with you city elves, grovelling in the dirt of the volcano that destroyed our home in the hopes your false goddess will provide for you. How’s that working out? The sun has longed to burn you for decades for betraying your roots.”

“I’m not…” Furore pondered whether she should keep her disguise of a dark-skinned elf, but since she doubted it would help her achieve her goal today, she dropped it. She revealed herself to Syvis for the first time in the princess’ life. “I’m that goddess, you speak of. Can’t harm me, poor you, but—“

Syvis released the string of her bow, so the arrow whistled through the air and struck Furore in the chest. She glanced down at the fine craftsmanship, the brown feather with white stripes, and growled. If every mortal she encountered while trying to appease Rhabour reacted with violence, it would get tiresome.

“Syvis…” Furore gestured at the arrow sticking out of her chest. “Why?”

“For my mother, that’s why!” Syvis frowned, nocked another arrow, and raised her bow again. “Where is she? I’ve not received word from her in over three hundred years, and it’s your fault, isn’t it? You distorted her mind until she only saw her human pet.”

“Elves and humans live in relative harmony in Lho Allanar, so I believe they’d find you calling them pets offensive.” Furore didn’t try to dodge the second arrow, it struck the same spot as the first. She rolled her eyes, broke the two arrows in halves, and yanked them out of her chest.

“I detest Lho Allanar. I’ve done my best to open the eyes of city elves with my books!” Syvis didn’t nock a third arrow to her bow. She looked like she intended to do it, but the first two hadn’t damaged her target, so she slung the bow over her shoulder. “Why have you come to harass me in my forest?”

“I…” Furore doubted she’d get an honest answer if she told the truth, but she’d no reason to lie. “I wanted to check in one of my favourite mortal couples. See for myself how you and Nimue are doing.”

“Nimue?” Syvis furrowed her brow, ran her hand through her unkempt, long hair, slid the hood back, and stared bewildered at the trees.

She’d aged, considerably, since they’d last met. Furore hadn’t noticed it at first, but she did have wrinkles in her face that not even Fayeth had had during their first meeting, and the queen of peace had been older than her daughter at that point.

“Your husband?”

“I never married…”

“You didn’t marry Nimue?”

“I never married anyone.”

“Why?”

“I…” Syvis screwed up her face, scratched her head. “I didn’t want to tie myself to anyone. I did love Nimue, but we went our separate ways, on friendly terms.” She smiled at some fond memory. “He promised he’d tell me if he met my mother on his own journeys, but he hasn’t contacted me either. He’s been gone for well over thirty years, give or take.”

Furore didn’t like what she heard, it wouldn’t sway Rhabour to unite her with Fate. “Did I fail you? As your goddess of love? Would you have wanted me to do more?”

Syvis cleared her nostrils of phlegm, spat it on the ground between them. “I never put any faith in you. I didn’t forsake my people to sail the world with a human. Since you resurrected Lho Allanar, since you distracted Algora and Xenthien from the existence of us Freow elves, we’ve lived in peace. We’ve grown in strength, but we’ve stayed within the border of our country. No one travels our road anymore.” She laughed. “No, frankly, you’ve not failed me. You’ve served me well. You brought serenity to my home.”

An unforeseen, unintended consequence, but she supposed she would take what she could get. It could have been worse, for sure. She’d watched many elves leave the Freow Woods to settle Lho Allanar, yet she wasn’t surprised to discover that Syvis had not been among them. She’d always seemed to hold a grudge against society, especially if it included humans.

“You must have taken to Lho Allanar, to a degree, or you wouldn’t know enough about the city to criticize my creation? You wouldn’t have someone to reproduce your books, eh? Not quick enough to live in luxury.”

Syvis snatched her bow off her shoulder to aim a new arrow at Furore’s head. “I don’t live in luxury. I care for the woods, for my spirit friends, nurture them, and they assist me in turn. Gods are worthless. When we needed you cretins the most, you abandoned us. You left my people to die until you saw a new chance to enslave us. My father would have been alive, none of this would have happened, if it wasn’t for the likes of you!”

Furore deflected the third arrow, with a flick of her wrist, before it pierced her skull. She didn’t want to discover whether that would have hurt or not. “Syvis, I wasn’t a goddess when your father was alive. I lived day to day, in the Scarlet Kingdom, as an extraordinary demon and never cared for mortals. I’ve—“

“Nothing’s changed except your location, has it?” Syvis laughed, yet the cackle sounded more desperate than happy. “You still only care about yourself! Spirits are strong. Strong enough to help us, greatly, yet not strong enough forget and ignore us. They would have been a fine replacement for you lot!”

“No, they…” Furore shut her mouth. If there was a lesson to learn from this elf as wild and untameable as her forested country, it wasn’t that difficult to notice. Syvis shouted it at her. Furore could, if she wished, lower herself to the level of a spirit and do what they might have done.

“You should leave.” Syvis wiped her eyes on her forearm. “We don’t need you. If I could, I’d destroy you along with the heinous city.”

“I’m sure you’re not alone in that…” Furore muttered, then she did something she’d never thought she would do. She got down on her knees to show that she could demean herself as any stupid god who favoured good over intelligence. If Rhabour didn’t bring her to Fate after she’d gotten on her knees in the dirt, she would swear revenge on both of them. “Is there anything you lack? Anything someone with my awesome power could provide you with?”

“No.” Syvis crossed her arms, turned to leave. “The Freow Woods have everything my kind could ever need.”

“Except company…?” Furore suggested since it was her area of expertise. “Do you want me to return Nimue to your side? I could mould him, make him into a willing subject for his princess. A real stallion.”

“I will never want love when you rule it, not after what you did to my mother.” Syvis forced the words through clenched teeth.

“I could bring you with me, if I seek Fayeth out next.” Furore hadn’t planned the order in which to visit her chosen couples, but Fayeth and Leyla ought to be prioritized. She’d no clue what had happened to them. She’d not heard news about them in years either. “Would you want a reunion? I’ll bring you back here, afterwards, no catch.”

“There’s always a catch.”

“No…” She pinched her nose, got up on her feet because Syvis didn’t seem to care whether she demeaned herself for her sake or not. It might shift Fate’s opinion about her at least. “There isn’t. I’ve carried out countless selfless tasks for mortals. The list of lovers is a chore for me, dull, boring, yet I do it. Always.”

“You’re wasting your time with me. Time you could use on that list of yours, if it’s that important.” Syvis reminded her, smugly.

“Yes or no?”

“My answer for you is always no.”

“Then I’m leaving, you get nothing.”

Syvis raised her hand. “But you could remind my mother of how I exist. Tell her I miss her.”

“I could.” She left Syvis to sulk on her own, since that’s what she’d chosen to do with her free will and life.

Although, maybe the proud elf wouldn’t have had to languish in loneliness if she felt she could trust in love? Maybe she would have lived with Nimue, if Furore hadn’t gotten involved. She wouldn’t mention the thought to Rhabour. It would slip her mind.

Departure

Phoxene accepted none of their new recruits onto the Gustfin. If Sauft saw fit to make bets with Gale, he could suffer the consequences. She assigned the majority of the twenty-six pirates who volunteered to fly with them without pay to Little Shark, while Kan agreed to take on half a dozen because she claimed they might help. She placed a lot of faith in Sauft and Gale, if she thought pirates would contribute without treasure.

“We leaving then?” Gale arrived at the top of the gangplank with a bag slung over her back and the demigod shuffling alongside her. Niaris’ snakes danced on top of her head.

“Time to put an end to the suffering of my brethren.” Phoxene gave a half-grin. “Or that is what Iorvil would have said, if she’d been with us. Since she’s not… Yes, we are leaving. If you’ve not bid farewell to this pirate haven, tough luck. You’re not getting off my ship again without your captain’s permission.”

“Your brethren?” Niaris asked, hid behind Gale. “Is this journey not because you hope to become legends?”

“And famous.”

“Put your bag in my cabin, if you’ve not had a change of heart.” Phoxene waved Gale aside, so she could get a moment alone with their newest member, and placed herself in front of Niaris. “I don’t know what the daft girl told you, but I do none of this because of flighty dreams of fame.” She gripped Niaris’ robe when she attempted to follow Gale, held onto her, and smiled. “Listen, as the captain of this fleet, it’s my duty to get to know whoever will be bunking on my airship. Especially if they possess immeasurable power.”

“Phoxene, leave her to me.” Gale stopped in her tracks, halfway across the deck. “Niaris has agreed to assist, or she wouldn’t be here. She’d disregard us, walk away, and kill you if you tried to stop her.”

“I know.” She hated being reminded that she had no power compared to the gods and their children, after everything which had happened since Iorvil had given her control of the Gustfin. “How about we leave it up to Niaris? Do you plan to spend every hour with the sleazy Gale, or do you want to get to know the rest of us too?”

“I—“

“Sleazy?” Gale snorted. “I don’t call you a frigid bitch in front of your friends, do I, Phoxene? Nor do I tell them how you begged me to stick my finger in—“

“You’re right.” She raised her hands in defeat, grinned. “My bad. Let’s save the fighting for later, out of earshot of eavesdroppers.”

When they couldn’t escape her, when they’d gotten too involved, then they could have a row. They could argue and fight. She might enjoy that. But for now, as her sisters screamed from Thotrix’s Bane and The Disgrace to raise their ships out of the ocean and cast aside water, she had to join in. She had to lead them.

“Perhaps we can share a meal later, together…” Niaris suggested with a whisper, awed by the ships lifting into the sky.

“We’d like that very much, wouldn’t we? Gale?” Phoxene glared at her. On the Gustfin, she was everyone’s captain, empress, and god. If they didn’t want her to roll the airship around and send them tumbling to their deaths, they would obey.

“Aye, aye, mistress.” Gale saluted, grabbed Niaris’ hand, and dragged her away from Phoxene. They didn’t go inside, however, since the demigod refused. She stopped moving by the door to the staircase, and Gale failed to budge her.

Little Shark was the next ship to lift into the sky, but Sauft didn’t scream or roar. He stayed silent, like usual, while he flew his airship. Phoxene had been forced to learn how to take off in silence too, or anger her old master and taste his thorny whip, yet she understood how there was a time for silence, and a time for unleashing everything.

While the rings around the other three airships drifted out of the concealed compartments in their hulls, assembled around the centres of their respective vessels, and came alive with crackling sparks of energy, she extended her arms in front of herself.

She was thankful for how she didn’t have to bare her forearms to anyone, but it didn’t lessen the anguish. Every time she had to use the inventions they’d drilled into her, the flesh and bone awakened to agony.

On those days she didn’t fly, she could barely feel her arms. Touch had become a numb sense. If she pierced her hand on a dagger, or cut herself, she had to pretend to feel a pain she didn’t experience.

Phoxene focused on the cogs, the brass, saw them clearly in front of her eyes, and sought for permission to use them. Shocks erupted along her skin, surged through her arms, burrowed into bone. She pushed down the bile at the back of her throat.

Thotrix’s essence lived in the inventions, yet they went on using them. She feared the god might have studied them, ever since they’d escaped, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. Every machine knew they connected with a god’s divinity when they lifted their airship off the ground. Kan, Udfiol, and Sauft understood they could get hit by lightning at any moment because they’d dared rebel. They’d dared think they could defy those who claimed to be their creators.

Even though it hurt, always, and brought memories of her childhood to the surface, Phoxene refused to surrender the power she’d been bestowed. She screamed to let Kan and Udfiol and Saufnein know she stood right next to them, and it was painful.

At her worst, her most exhausted, she prayed for a swift death she never received whenever circumstances forced her to lift the Gustfin, increase its speed, or veer to the side too swiftly.

Today, though, she hoped the world was ready for them. They would bring about change. They would become legends, as Gale seemed to have told everyone she’d inspired to stand at their side. And then, she could rest.

Skyward

If she’d thought the sunrise astounding after centuries imprisoned, she failed to find words for how to describe the sight of majestic vessels capable of carrying armies to battle rising out of the ocean and flying.

The mortals of Thylatserine had progressed in bounds and leaps. They’d left her in another age. They possessed the will to succeed with their insane goal, and if they proved that they could, oughtn’t she assist them?

“Impressive, yeah?” Gale nudged her with her elbow. “How that which surrounds, and grounds, crafts such horrific sounds? Poor machine agonizes for our rises, soon lost in search of prizes.”

“There’s a grandeur to scars that bleed…” Niaris envied humans and elves their mortality. It made them vulnerable, but she was of the genuine belief that Thylatserine had not been meant to be experienced without their flaws. They had more available to them than she did. “They’ll heal, again, but this is the sort of beauty Dyella resented mortals for.”

“It is…?”

“Yes, my… My creator did everything to ease the suffering of her followers, everything, yet she thought nothing prettier.”

“A bit disturbed, if you ask me.”

Niaris faced Gale to give her a piece of her mind, but as the half-demon squeezed her hand, lent it warmth once more, she lingered in her eyes. She wondered what it would taste like to kiss someone. Would it astound too? Would a pang of guilt assail her afterwards, or would it wait long enough for her to live? What if Phoxene got in the middle of that moment too?

“Let’s bring my lute and stuff to the captain’s cabin, unless you prefer to stay up on deck?”

“I…” She could express a preference. “I’d like to dawdle in the wind and their howls. They’re alive. I… I wish to enjoy my escape from death.”

Gale smiled, wistfully, and for the first time, the grief she imbued in her singing showed in her eyes. “Me too. It’s just… difficult without my twin. And my family.”

It became Niaris’ turn to squeeze Gale’s hand in an attempt to comfort her, even though she understood it was futile. No one could replace those someone had lost.

Frontier

Gale dropped her bag in the corner of the captain’s cabin. Phoxene may have repaired the airship, but she’d not made it larger. A double bed occupied most of the space inside the cabin, while a desk had been crammed up against the wall. She couldn’t help wondering where Phoxene thought Niaris would sleep. With the rest of the crew?

Niaris shut the door after herself, prodded at the thick carpet with her bare foot, and dug her toes into its brown fabric. “It’s soft. You’ll like it.”

“I don’t think Phoxene offered to share her room with me in the hopes I’d lie on the floor.” At least Gale hoped she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have been shocked to discover that Phoxene had truly planned to chain her up at the end of her bed. “You won’t mind if I sleep with someone else, will you?”

“Why would I?” Niaris shrugged like it didn’t concern her and stepped across the carpet to press her face up against the windows. Her snakes slithered across the glass. “I’ll watch over you, so no one hurts anyone. Kicking or what else…”

Gale threw herself on top of Phoxene’s bed, stretched out, and groaned in relief. The bed was much softer than any carpet. “I’m happy to hear that, Niaris, but maybe it would make it easier on you if you lay between us? Phoxene wouldn’t take offense. The bed is large.”

Niaris half gasped, half snorted, and glanced at her before she stared even harder at the ocean through the window. The snakes hissed at Gale. They didn’t like it when she upset their mistress. They didn’t wish to see her embarrassed or flustered, yet Gale couldn’t possibly stop striving to cause those exact reactions in the demigod. The result was too cute.

Even though she’d gained a lot more experience since her first night with Phoxene, over a decade ago, she’d never had more than one partner at once. No one had presented her with the opportunity, and she preferred to make certain she would satisfy each of her lovers, so she’d not reached for it herself.

But now, with Phoxene and Niaris so close, her thoughts strayed to what it might be like to tire herself out and fall asleep embraced by two women. Two individuals with no high demands of her. She’d chosen fame over love, and they wouldn’t make her change, but they could laze in each other’s arms. If she slept with both of them, she could return to focusing on her dream afterwards. She could compose her epic about the dolls and their crews.

“Where are we going?” Niaris asked.

“We’re going to find an artefact to kill Thotrix.” Gale hadn’t been told more than that. Phoxene and her captains probably already had a lead, which might have brought them to the area, but they’d not told her anything about it. Not that she could recall.

“We’re headed south, fast…” Niaris pursed her lips. “Nothing but water in the south of the world. And beasties.”

“Are you afraid of getting wet?”

“No, I’m used to it. I bathe, clean myself. I bathed in the red water in the realm of the unchained dead. And I once fell into magma, when I was a kid. Dyella pulled me out before I burned my pets by accident, but I singed my skin.” Niaris pulled the sleeve of her robe up, trailed her fingers along her toned arm. “The marks aren’t visible, not now. I would have liked to show you.”

“I’m sure we don’t need magma to get wet and hot.” Gale kept as neutral a tone as she could manage while she teased Niaris. “Do you have everything a mortal woman would have, or you know, did Dyella add a little extra?”

Niaris quirked an eyebrow, pointed at the snakes, and slid her forked tongue out of her mouth. Gale had noticed her unique tongue earlier, but she’d not been made aware of how long it was until Niaris bragged by unveiling it in its full glory. It just kind of went on, hung out of her mouth, slid across her lips. Its length must give it an impressive reach.

“Wow…” Gale swallowed. “You’re well-endowed.”

“I begged Dyella to…” Niaris mumbled, struggled to speak, pulled her tongue back in, and snapped her mouth shut. “Wha… What is this conversation, Gale? Why do you wish to know the answers to these questions?”

Gale grinned on the inside. “No reason. None at all.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you and your mistress.”

“Do you want to bathe with us, at least?”

Niaris crossed her arms, walked over to the door. “I see your dirty mind, Gale, and it’s filthy. I could help you clean that.”

“We could skip to such intimacy if you wish…” Gale murmured, slid her legs along the blankets of Phoxene’s bed, and raised herself on her elbows.

Niaris threw the door open. “I’m going to ask Phoxene where we’re going, if you’ve only signed on as a pretty face. If we’re going somewhere I’ve been, I could tell her about the beasties.”

“You think I have a pretty face?”

“Yes, Gale!” Niaris slammed the door, left her alone in the captain’s cabin.

She might have allowed too much pent up desire to dwell inside, since she’d not shared a bed with anyone last night, and she’d gotten accustomed to a greater degree of carnality with pirates. Yet since the chocolate and citrus scent of Niaris blended with Phoxene’s natural odour in the cabin, and no one would bother her for a while, she inhaled their perfumes like a sweet drug. She stuck her left hand under her shirt, grinded her legs together.

If they wouldn’t join her voluntarily, she could imagine countless scenarios that might occur in the future. She shut her eyes, bit her lip, while they ravaged her with tongues and nails. Phoxene and Niaris attended to her as if they worshipped a goddess.

Travellers

Furore tracked Fayeth and Leyla through their dreams, because in the dream realm they could be located. And it made her smile to hear them frolic together without her inciting them to do so. She didn’t need to stand over the queen and the soldier with a whip to make them love each other. They’d done it since the day she’d forced them to kneel. She still had the painting, somewhere, even if her artistic talent wouldn’t impress.

Once she’d determined their whereabouts in the real world, she flung herself into a land she’d never visited. The sun battered people wrapped in cloths and rags with its intense heat, yet none of them seemed disturbed by the high temperatures while they crossed the cliffs on drawbridges suspended between one area of their rocky city and the next.

Below the cliffs an arid desert stretched out into eternity. Gargantuan beasts had fallen in the sand, decayed, and left humongous ribs and skulls in their wake. The skeletons were far away, yet they still appeared to be the size of mountains. How large would those bones be if she went closer? If she teleported down to the desert, would she think herself tiny, insignificant, for the first time ever? Incapable of affecting the world in any meaningful way? Mortal?

“Demon,” Fayeth said with her critical tone. “What brings you here?”

Furore turned around by the edge of the cliffs to confront the queen of peace. Fayeth stood in the shade of a home carved out of the cliffside, her face hidden behind a veil. Only her icy eyes peeked out from under the rags she wore.

Furore had forgotten to use her disguise this time around, but she wouldn’t be pushed around by an elf. Fayeth may have had a modicum of power over her once, in the beginning, but these days she was as replaceable as any farmer’s tool. Millions worshipped Furore’s version of love now.

“Did you dump your lover too or what?” Furore skipped the greetings, since neither of them thought pleasantries necessary.

They were a little too similar for her liking. She may have thought better of Fayeth, if she’d been less impressive than her. But if there were two figures any elf in Lho Allanar could describe, it was her and Fayeth. And they didn’t even get Furore’s species correct.

“She didn’t!” Leyla popped out of nowhere, leaned against another wall, concealed by the colour of her rags, and shoved a sword through her gut.

“My beloved honorary elf is more loyal to me than ever.”

“Apparently so.” Furore yawned. “I thought you girls were older than this? Too mature and wise to sneak up on someone and stab them?”

“We’re not.” Leyla laughed, dragged the sword out of Furore, and wiped it on her rags. “We’re youthful, full of energy, and wild. Travellers of the world. Explorers of the unseen.”

“We don’t take kindly to being reminded of how old we are, demon.” Fayeth beckoned Leyla close, hugged her like she feared someone might steal her, and rested her head on top of her shoulder. “Cruel to remind us our lives are drawing to a close.”

“Are they though?” Furore patted her dress, sewed it back together with a bit of her essence after what the sword had done. “How old are you now, Fayeth? Four thousand years? What makes you think you won’t live twice as long?”

“Oldest living elf. Leyla’s the oldest living human.”

“As far as we know.” Leyla slid a hand under Fayeth’s rags and caused the elf to mutter something inaudible, indignantly. “Done everything I’ve wanted, and… so much more. If you’ve come to claim my life, I’m ready. You gave me more time than I needed. Every day at Fayeth’s side has been a new gift. Worth every injury and scar.”

“Aww.” Furore slapped her hand over her own mouth when she heard the sound she made. A former succubus shouldn’t sound like that in front of her worshippers. They might lose respect for her.

“It’s been a ride.” Fayeth closed her eyes against Leyla’s rags. “Used to think I’d never live again after the death of Syvis’ father, but at times, I don’t even remember his name it’s been so long. The majority of my memories are of Leyla now. The years we spent travelling the world, sailing, walking until our legs broke.”

“Happened a few times. Broken bones.” Leyla removed the veil she wore over her face, uncovered new scars and wrinkles which hinted at how she’d passed middle age and approached the latter years of life. “They heal slower and slower.”

“Even for me.” Fayeth agreed. “My back kills me on rainy days.”

Furore hadn’t expected she would reign long enough to listen to these two whine about their decrepit bodies, but it was where she found herself after hundreds of years. A peculiar place. She sort of liked it.

“Syvis wants you to know she misses you, Fayeth. She said she’s not heard from you in a very long time, and thinks you’ve forgotten about her. That you chose Leyla.”

“I didn’t… Well, not over her.” Fayeth frowned. “I paid couriers to bring messages to my daughter, but it’s possible they took the coin and tossed my scrolls. They may not have known how to get to the Freow Woods.”

“Or Algora,” Leyla said. “They seem so small after everything. I wouldn’t know how to get back there, if I wanted to. I doubt we have the time.”

Fayeth nodded. “I’ve attempted to reach my daughter in the realm of dreams, talked to her more than once while she slept, but she may have mistaken it for an actual dream. I should have taught her better. She would have made a fine queen.”

“She never left her home country, so I guess I should stop calling her princess.” Furore hesitated while the first couple she’d pushed together seemed to forget her altogether in favour of hugging each other. She’d come in search of answers, but she didn’t have to ask them. From what she could tell, they’d done well for themselves. They behaved as if they’d not stopped loving each other a single day during the centuries they’d shared. “You’re not disappointed? Mad?”

“Why should we be?” Leyla tapped the sword in the belt at her side. “It’s not been easy, but it’s been worth it. My greatest challenge. I’m glad I never became a mercenary. Someone would have killed me in a pointless, bloody battle. Instead I’ve had a queen.”

“I was, for a long time, but… What am I supposed to do?” Fayeth eyed her with an indifferent, chilly look. “I can’t kill you. I can accept and forgive, or I can carry my hatred with me to my grave. And you’re not worth that. I’m grateful for what you did for my elves. That’s about it.”

“Lho Allanar remains to this day.” Furore neglected to mention what kind of state it lived on in, but the city could change. It wasn’t destined to stay a theocracy forever. If the elves wished to remake their society, it fell upon them. “And I gave you Leyla.”

“Thank you for that, but don’t ask us to kneel. You don’t get to make demands of us.”

“Definitely don’t threaten us.” Leyla added. “We’re ready to die. We’re not your worshippers. We’ve chosen to stay together because we like each other, not because of anything you did.”

“I did help you land one hot elf mother though.” Furore laughed. “Do you think you could have done that without me? Really?”

“I guess, no, I—“

“Yes, she could have.” Fayeth glowered, wrapped her arms around Leyla’s waist. “It may have taken longer, but we belong together. We were fated to—“

“Don’t say it.” Furore got the message, and she didn’t need to hear how her first couple would sooner fall to their knees and pray to Fate than to her. “Before I leave you, a final time, do you have a wish? Don’t be shy. Give in to the demon. Tell me your deepest desires.”

“I won’t,” Leyla said. “I remember what it felt like to use your knife. Horrifying.”

“I...” Fayeth slid a hand downward across Leyla’s stomach. “There’s something I do miss, which my husband had but Leyla doesn’t. I wouldn’t hate it if she could provide me with a child.”

“I believe those were two wholly different wishes.” Furore bared her fangs in an appreciative grin. “But sure, why not? I’ve welcomed many new children to the world, most of them did well. No reason to deny you the privilege.”

“Eh, I don’t know, Fayeth…”

“Everyone should have the option available to them, even if they don’t use it.” She didn’t have to do much to grant them their wish. At her current power, she simply waved her hand, and they ought to receive a son or a daughter in due time if they so wished. She hoped they wouldn’t die while their progeny was a child, but it wasn’t up to her to care for someone else’s brood. She could watch over them at best. “It’s been nice seeing you again after—“

“I disagree,” Fayeth said.

“Me too.”

“Right.”

Furore may fail to get mortals to like her, but in this case, she’d not failed as the goddess of love. She’d done right by them, even if they wouldn’t admit that. She noticed it in their eyes though, in how they never looked too long at her or their surroundings before gazing into each other’s souls for the adoration and support they needed. How they groped each other to make their partner squeal and shiver, in their fun little game.

Fayeth and Leyla had stayed together for centuries. Rhabour and Fate couldn’t judge her too harshly, unless they’d created a relationship of equal strength and promise.

Invulnerable

Niaris had meant to ask Phoxene where they were headed, and give her whatever knowledge she may possess of the destination in question, yet she stopped and watched her fly the Gustfin. She sat on the railing surrounding the deck while the crew carried out their assigned tasks.

She wasn’t sure what their jobs were when a single woman did everything though. The airship lacked masts, sails. A ring brimming with divine energy spun around its middle. The warriors mostly seemed to keep watch, clean, or carry the odd crate of supplies. They were a motley crew, dressed in mixed pieces of leather and cloth.

Phoxene moved her hands in intricate patterns, caressed the air, tugged on invisible strings. The wind unrolled her sleeves, revealed hideous inventions of Thotrix’s make, and motivated Niaris to question whether she had the right impression of mortals.

Was it kind of her to think of them as weak, and vulnerable, while they demonstrated such determination? If one of her creators had abused them, didn’t it fall on her to try to heal them? And if it did, would it be sinful to consider healing them through tenderness and love?

She needed someone to love her as much as they did, even if Dyella had denied her the experience because of her status and immortality. If she wished, she could crush Phoxene and Gale like ripe pears. Her snakes could bite and inject them with lethal venom on command.

Yet she wouldn’t ever do something so cruel. If Dyella had died, disappeared, she’d no one to ask for advice. She had to listen to her own heart, ask it what to do, and consider whether she ought to obey. Did its answers stem from love or lust?

They landed in the ocean, hours later. Niaris had watched Phoxene the whole afternoon by then, but she didn’t think anything of it. She’d watched mortals go about their work, often, whenever she’d been bored. It was strange to realize she’d not been bored while in Thylatserine for centuries. Everything had become exciting again.

Phoxene rolled the sleeves over the cogs and brass in her forearms, stomped across the deck to Niaris, and refused to tear her angry gaze off her. The captain may want a word with her, thankfully, but she couldn’t explain the anger.

“So you like to watch me, huh?” Phoxene asked, stepped very close, and threatened to push her into the water with her body. “Does it entertain you to know a god crippled my arms and replaced them with their shackles of faith?”

“No?” Niaris lifted her hands to push Phoxene back before one of her snakes bit the woman, but they seemed entranced by the captain. “Should it? I—”

She’d not been slapped by a mortal, ever, so she didn’t grasp what had happened at first, and when she did, she didn’t understand why. Phoxene’s palm stung against her cheek, even though the pain shouldn’t affect her.

“Don’t test me, demigod, or you will regret it.”

“My name is Niaris…” Niaris lifted her hand to her cheek to nurse it. “That hurt.”

“Oh, poor baby, did it hurt? Do you want me to…” Phoxene mocked her until she noticed that she sat on the verge of tears. Then she stopped, confused.

Niaris didn’t appreciate how every warrior on deck suddenly took an interest in a fight she’d not asked for, or how their captain seemed excited to bully her. She wanted to help mortals, always, and didn’t deserve to be made fun of in turn. It wasn’t her fault Dyella or Thotrix had had a fascination with snakes. She would have chosen to look ordinary, bland, if anyone had asked her.

“I-I wanted to know where we’re going.” Niaris pressed her hand against her cheek. “The oceans in the south of the world are familiar to me, and I…”

“Yes?” Phoxene leaned into her, leered. Strands of her red hair fluttered between them in a gust. The crew lost some of their interest in their captain’s fight when she changed her tune, quieted her voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you, Niaris.” Phoxene emphasized her name, smacked her lips, tasted it. “I am… a tad sensitive about my arms, and you stared for so long I almost got embarrassed.”

“Time flows differently for me,” Niaris said. “Gods don’t abide by the same slow crawl as mortals.”

“Does that mean you could challenge Gale’s endurance?” Phoxene grinned.

“Gale’s got nothing on me. Why? Anyway, about the south seas, have you heard of the beasties?”

Phoxene glanced up at her snakes. “I may have encountered one or two. Are they very cute?”

“They’re underwater animals the gods bestowed with eternal life and hid in the ocean. They can be killed with regular means, unlike gods, but it’d be nearly impossible since one of them could swallow your ship in a single bite.”

Phoxene lifted her hand to the cheek she’d slapped, forced Niaris’ hand down at her side, and caressed it. “Sounds scary.”

“They are!”

“Will you protect us? Are you capable of doing that, if I entrust you with the safety of my crew?” Phoxene fixated her with her grey-green eyes, breathed on her skin. “Will you stay by my side, if I need a guardian?”

“I would do my best, but…” She tried to slip around the captain, but Phoxene fell against her and prevented her from moving unless she wanted to see the mortal tumble over the railing. “Are you listening to me? At all…?”

“Yes.” Phoxene trailed her hand along her cheek, down her neck. “You remind me of myself, Niaris. Some nasty people refer to me as a viper, and it makes me feel terrible. I wish I could find someone who understands, who could console me in my darkest hour.”

“I’d be happy to be there for you.” Niaris didn’t trust the captain, not when she threw herself on her, but she could use more than one friend. She’d not made a decision about whether it would be wrong of her to heal Phoxene with tenderness either. She’d only watched her for hours, which didn’t improve matters.

“Wonderful.” Phoxene retreated, a snake snapped for her nose. “Is Gale waiting for me in my bed?”

“Last I saw.”

“I’ll go find her. Enjoy yourself.”

“I will keep an eye out for beasties.”

A smile crept across Phoxene’s harsh face. “You’re considerate, Niaris. Don’t let anyone trick you into doing everything they want. It would be regrettable, if you lost yourself.”

Niaris had intended to keep her guard raised toward the captain, but if Phoxene warned her about seedy behavior, could she trust her? Could she rely on her like she relied on Gale?

The way that Phoxene swung her hips, while headed downstairs, brought a blush to her cheeks, yet she didn’t avert her eyes from her round butt. It inspired an interest to watch Phoxene and Gale engage in the activities forbidden to her. No one would get hurt, except the sensibilities she’d inherited from Dyella.

Sanctuary

Phoxene tried to think of a reason why she’d warned Niaris but couldn’t. It didn’t make sense. If the demigod was too naïve for her own good, she’d only thrown obstacles in front of her own feet. If she planned to use her as a tool, she didn’t want Niaris to be on the lookout for someone to trick her.

Members of her crew ate in the dining hall, talked, and greeted her with polite nods while she passed them. The cook had made another stew, and it smelled exquisite, but she wished to find Gale first. The daft girl might have sabotaged her ship, her plans, without intending too. She seemed as hopeless as her twin at times, even if she was never quite as oblivious as she liked others to think.

Phoxene opened the door to her cabin, scrunched her nose up as she became aware of a familiar smell. Inside, Gale lay sprawled across the blankets on her double bed, tuckered out, half-naked. It was obvious what she’d done while the rest of them had worked to maintain the Gustfin. She’d finger-fucked herself senseless. If Niaris hadn’t sat like a statue on deck for four hours straight, Phoxene would have placed the blame on her.

“Mmm…” Gale moaned, woke from her slumber.

“I can see you’ve had your fun for the day.” Phoxene stepped into her cabin. The room belonged to her, but it hadn’t given Gale pause for a second. “Do you want me to join you in bed, or should I fetch a bowl of stew for our resident demon?”

Gale blinked her groggy eyes open, smirked, and shut them both again in a failure of a wink. “Stew sounds great, pirate queen.”

“I’m not your servant, daft girl.”

“I’ll make it up to you…” Gale rolled onto her stomach, slipped her tail out of her pants, and waved it seductively in the air while she threw her butt from side to side. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“No…” Phoxene twirled a lock of red hair between her fingers. She’d no reason to lie to Gale in this case. She’d not flown to the Isle of No Return for her, yet she’d been elated to meet her for the first time in years. If she’d believed in the nonsense of gods, she might have claimed their chance meeting was fate. “I’ll get you your bowl of stew, if…”

“What?” Gale glanced at her from over her shoulder, burrowed her face into her pillow, and shot her the most sultry bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. “If I let you eat your stew off my body? Is that what you wish for pirate queen? Always thought I’d hate the life of a concubine, but I could be your little sex slave. I could get used to this, just waiting for you to return, and entertain me.”

“Other way around, you’d entertain me.” She guessed she could bring Gale her stew though. “And I wouldn’t keep you around unless you contributed to the success of my quest. I’d ditch you the moment you got too comfortable, which by the looks of it you seem to have done in no time. Your friend is more helpful.”

“I fantasized about you two together.” Gale laughed. “Pleasing me.”

“I’d ask if you’d gotten into the crew’s stash of rum, but no, I know this is merely who you are as a person.”

“And you love me because of it.” Gale curled her tail into what might have been construed as an attempt at a heart. “Admit it.”

“If anything, I love you in spite of it. I’ll get us—“

“But you do love me then, too.”

“I tolerate you, daft girl. I don’t feel this love you’re obsessed with.” Phoxene grunted in disgust, Gale only laughed.

She left her cabin to fetch food for her and her concubine, if that’s what Gale wanted her title to be. At least she’d not made inane demands of her and asked for them to marry. She didn’t need a third shackle.

If necessary, she would sacrifice Gale and Niaris to accomplish her goal. They may be willing to assist, and endure their journey with her and the other machines, but it didn’t make her care for them. They would remain outsiders. At best, they might share her bed for a few nights, but eventually, they would be discarded.

Tomorrow, they would arrive at their destination, and then she wouldn’t have time to waste on them anyway. They could entertain themselves on the Gustfin, while she searched for one of the rumoured artefacts.

At Sea

Gale awakened in the morning, as the sun peeked in, and wondered where her friends had gone. She remembered eating in the awkward company of Phoxene after a day of fantasies, but she wasn’t sure what had happened afterwards.

To her disappointment, she believed Phoxene had chosen to leave and explained how they would continue flying for a few hours during the evening. She must have fallen asleep before Phoxene returned though, and even if the captain’s smell lingered in the cabin, she found herself deserted.

“This fine dame, still prays for fame,” she sang, dedicated the rhyme to Fate.

She rubbed her eyes, slunk out of bed, and considered washing herself. Phoxene had soap lying in a basket in the corner, but if she touched herself too soon, she might descend into depravity again. If she did, she would miss out on the opportunity of getting to live those fantasies she’d crafted. She wouldn’t get to be with Phoxene and Niaris, unless she made an effort.

She walked through the familiar dining hall of the Gustfin, greeted everyone she met with a wide smile, and headed up on deck. Phoxene, Kan, and Udfiol oversaw the work of their crews while they lowered rowboats into the ocean. The four airships had landed close together, but Little Shark and Saufnein seemed to have adopted a defensive position further out.

Sauft waved at her, dangled his legs over the side of his ship. She waved back at him, and noticed high stone structures rising behind Thotrix’s Bane and The Disgrace. A ruin in the middle of the ocean, but from this angle she couldn’t see beyond its walls.

“Gale. Friend.” Niaris emerged from the stairs to the deck below. “You don’t know what happened to Dyella, but… Is there a new goddess of love? If so, what’s her stance on healing and sex?”

Gale shivered at the sound of the question. Niaris had seemed innocent until she observed her with strange intent. “The goddess of love has no issue with those, whatsoever. In fact, she encourages everyone to make love, if that’s how they wish to show their devotion to her.”

Niaris grimaced. “I see. I appreciate the honesty. She doesn’t have any rules against lust or such?”

“She’d only have rules in favour of it, not against.”

“Weird.”

“I…” Gale shrugged. “What did Dyella say about it? Was she very strict? Were mortals not allowed to enjoy themselves under her rule?”

“Dyella didn’t rule anyone.” Niaris offered her hand, as if she’d missed holding hands while Gale had been asleep. “But she wouldn’t have wanted me to abuse those weaker than me either. She wouldn’t have wanted me to lie with someone like you, because I’m too strong. Too easy for me to take advantage of a—“

“Mortal?” Gale dried her left hand on her pants, unsure if Niaris would really want them to hold hands if she’d known where it’d been. She could offer the horror under the glove, but she wouldn’t feel anything then. No warmth, no touch. “Niaris, I threw my life away once. You could break me in half, I’d still be grateful. I’d ask for seconds.”

“Perhaps Phoxene is correct to call you daft.”

“She’s not.” Gale took Niaris’ hand in her own, squeezed it, and led the demigod over to their captain. “It’s a joke. She doesn’t think I’m daft, does she?”

Phoxene raised her gaze from the rowboats down in the ocean between the three airships. “She does, but she tolerates everyone’s flaws if they know their place.”

“Under her, in this case. We get along swimmingly.”

“If that’s what you think.” Phoxene gestured at the rowboats. “Niaris has volunteered to come with us to investigate these ruins. You could do the same, Gale, or you could swim. I wouldn’t want you to put ideas into the heads of my crew because you’re bored while we’re busy. We don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Days, possibly.”

“You volunteered, Niaris?” Gale asked to make sure she’d done what Phoxene said, and that it wasn’t something their captain had made up.

“I know this place well.” Niaris nodded, a few of the snakes hissed. “It’s my duty to protect mortals, so since I’m travelling with you, it’s my duty to protect you from beasties.”

“Well, then, I wouldn’t want to leave you without entertainment.” Gale smirked. “Do you wish for me to fetch my lute, or is my voice enough? Who is coming with us?”

“Kan, Udfiol, and twenty of our warriors,” Phoxene said. “I’d ask you to keep quiet in this place, if Niaris’ beasts exist. You wouldn’t want me to feed you to them as bait because you couldn’t bite your tongue.”

“They do exist, but…” Niaris stared into the ocean. “I think they sleep during the day, far below in depths no mortals can visit. The temple should be safe. They couldn’t get inside last I visited.”

“Isn’t that reassuring?” Phoxene slapped Gale’s shoulder. “The only woman who can’t stay quiet will surely not attract giant monsters, will she?”

“I’ve calmed down,” Gale said, but it wasn’t true. She’d lost a lot of the energy that had once surged through her during her childhood, after she’d died, but not all of it. There were still plenty of nights when she couldn’t sleep and sat up, irritated, to reminisce about Hymn and Caelora.

Phoxene grinned, as some devious thought popped into her head. “Next time you decide to pleasure yourself in my bed, you should invite your friends. Isn’t it rude of her to fantasize about those she doesn’t even invite, Niaris?”

“It is?” Niaris asked. “Who were they… Oh.”

Phoxene chuckled as Niaris let go of Gale’s hand and kept her own stretched out at her side. Why were they complaining about not being invited? She’d more or less begged Niaris to lie with her, and Phoxene had been busy. Clearly, the captain thought the death of Thotrix more important.

“Phoxene!” Kan called out from the deck of her airship. “We’re ready.”

“So are we!” Udfiol shouted.

“Then let’s not waste sunlight.” Phoxene rubbed her hands together. “To the boats!”

Gale had expected them to drop rope ladders for everyone to descend, but Niaris didn’t wait. She jumped over the railing, fell into the ocean, and splashed water along the hulls of the airships. Several of the warriors who’d been chosen to go with their captains to the ruins followed her example. Gale would not bring her lute with her, if it might get wet.

Phoxene bent down to whisper in her ear. “Do be quiet, Gale. I heard tall tales about the monsters Niaris mentioned, when we sought for clues of this artefact’s location. I chalked them up to the stories of sailors, but now, I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t be scared, doll.” Gale patted her cheek. “You’re a giant to me, and everyone. If the beasts are bigger than you, they surely can’t hear well enough to notice others either.”

“You have my full attention, daft girl.”

“I—“

Phoxene grabbed her by the arm, threw herself backwards over the side of the airship, and dragged Gale along. They hit the water, thankfully, not one of the rowboats.

While they sank together, Phoxene caressed her face, touched her horns. A green spark burst out of her shackles, and she began clawing at the machines drilled into her forearms while she looked too scared, too human. Not at all like a proud giant.

Gale tried to tug her friend with her toward the surface, but she wasn’t strong enough to shift her weight. And after the talk of beasts, she swore she saw the bottom of the ocean move and shift under them like it was the shell of a beast, not a reef.

She didn’t wish to die with Phoxene, or watch her drown because she’d forgotten how her machines might interact with water. She would have screamed, but no one would hear her unless she swam for the surface, so she did. She left Phoxene, and it felt worse than when she’d betrayed her.

“Phoxene needs help!” She exclaimed, pushed out of the water.

Kan pulled her into one of the boats.

“She does?” Udfiol asked, yet made no move to jump into the ocean after her, or send their warriors to fetch their captain.

“Oh, I am fine, Gale.” Phoxene splashed water onto her while she clung to Niaris, slung her arms around her. The demigod saved one of them so fast Gale wondered if she’d ever had cause for concern. “No thanks to you.”

“Please don’t fight,” Niaris said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I don’t…” Phoxene lowered her head, her hair draped her shirt and face. “I’m not sure. An unprovoked spark through my shackles. Niaris lifted me up though.”

“Careful from here on out.” Udfiol pulled Phoxene into her rowboat. “No games.”

“Or the beasties will awaken,” Niaris said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Phoxene.” Gale bowed deep enough that her forehead almost hit the wood of the rowboat she sat in. “If there wasn’t so much of you to love, I would have carried you to safety myself.” She hoped she’d reclaim some good will by apologizing in front of everyone, but Phoxene wasn’t known for her sympathy.

“It’s my fault, Gale.” Phoxene tugged on her wet hair, twirled it into a loose braid, and hung it over her shoulder. “Not yours. Let’s not speak of this again. We have a quest to complete.” She grabbed one of the oars of her boat while Udfiol grabbed the other. “Row.”

“I…” Gale reached for the oars to follow the command, but Kan took them instead.

“I’ll row, Gale. My thanks for teaching me how to dance,” Kan whispered, the corners of her mouth twisted upwards.

“I can help.”

“Not much, you’re tiny.”

Kan used the oars to bring their boat out into the waves. Gale had to brace at the sudden speed they gained. With Iorvil and Phoxene’s people, she would always be weak and small. Kan acted like someone who might recoil at the sight of their own shadow, late at night, yet muscles hid underneath her yellow robe.

“Slept well?” Gale asked.

If she couldn’t contribute by rowing, she could do her best to make the time pass quicker for the others in the boat. Kan rowed, but a couple of warriors sat behind her with axes attached to their belts. They wore the same leathers as the majority of Phoxene’s crew.

“I tried to dance in bed myself, like Phoxene claimed to teach, but no luck. Fell over, hit my head. Stopped trying.” Kan giggled, silently. “I misunderstood what she said. Language… My former master didn’t like people speaking to me. Only he was allowed to have conversations with the animal.”

“You’re no animal, Kan.”

“No…” Kan frowned. “I’m not, but life might have been simpler like a lazy cat.”

“For all of us.”

Kan didn’t laugh. “For me, more so.”

The eight rowboats fought the high waves and the current to approach the walls of the ruins. Everyone except Niaris sat in a boat. The demigod swam alongside them, ducked her head under the water every once in a while, and resurfaced minutes later. She didn’t have to breathe. If they needed someone to fetch an artefact underwater, they were set.

They had to row through algae around the wall which towered above them. It took them half an hour to discover a crack large enough in the ruins for the boats to fit through, and even then, Phoxene, Kan, and Udfiol had to bend their backs to avoid hitting their heads on the stones above.

Once they’d passed through the outer wall of the ruin, a sight which must have laid unseen for centuries welcomed them. Hundreds of seagulls had nested in holes in the walls, on top of square pillars, and near the entrance to the ruin. They screeched at their invasion and took to the air.

Ocean lilies, reeds, and algae coated the top of the water, coloured it green, and made it seem like they floated through porridge. Niaris’ snakes hissed and hissed whenever the plants grazed them. The demigod swam faster, raced the rowboats, and arrived at the steps leading up to the entrance first. None of them could move like her. On land, she was a golem. In water, an eel.

“We’ll split up,” Phoxene said, leapt out of the rowboat onto the stairs, and stretched her legs. “Five of you will guard our boats, five will set up camp with Kan if we can find a suitable location, and the rest are with me and Udfiol. We’ll go exploring.”

Gale could have volunteered to stay with Kan, and set up camp, but she’d not agreed to come on this journey to be a passive bystander. She had to be wherever the action was, or miss out on the accuracy and details her epic ought to have and do everyone a disservice. Her companions deserved to be recorded in history. Fame didn’t have to be her solitary achievement.

Old Friend, New Friend

Niaris kept to herself, listened to Gale hum, while they proceeded deeper into the temple. The onyx floors of the corridors shone as if they’d been polished hours ago. The massive, cracked statues along the walls held empty jugs and wore robes of ancient fashion. Neither her own nor Kan’s robe had the same low necklines or holes across their stomachs.

She knew where they were, even if she’d never thought she’d visit the place again. It made sense for her to reappear a day’s journey from this temple though. She may have landed on the isle because she’d honed in on Gale, but if she hadn’t, she might have awakened on one of the marble slabs in Thotrix and Dyella’s lost city.

Nyve Aiqua had fallen during her own time. A couple of years after her creation, in fact, but she’d never been a child. When she’d first opened her eyes and cried, her creators had granted her the knowledge and understanding of an adult. She’d skipped years of growth.

Thotrix and Dyella had changed after their city had been destroyed by other gods. They’d lived on, made an effort to stay together, but they’d grown to despise each other. Thotrix had diverted their power to increasing the speed of progress. Dyella had grieved the thousands of mortals she’d lost.

While Niaris had swum alongside the rowboats, she’d noticed buildings on the bottom of the ocean. She’d barely recognized their round, elegant architecture, because it’d been so long since she’d last set foot in Nyve Aiqua, but they’d belonged to her mother. Dyella had invested her soul in their construction.

They had a great lead for divine weapons, if that’s all Phoxene wished to recover. A treasure trove must exist somewhere, since Thotrix had crafted hundreds of artefacts. Still, two gods had once made their home in the city, so she wouldn’t be surprised to learn greater items lay buried in vaults.

“This appears like an excellent place to set up camp.” Phoxene stopped in the middle of an atrium, turned to look at each of them. “No objections?”

No one raised their voice. If Niaris had believed mortals still lingered in these halls, she might have pointed out that they would have great vantage points to ambush them from the floors above. But no one with a bow roamed these halls, so she saw no reason to warn Phoxene of imaginary threats. The atrium had been reclaimed by nature. At worst, they might encounter animals, but she’d enjoy napping next to vines and white roses.

“Wonderful.” Phoxene gestured for those in her crew who’d brought tents with them to set them up by the entrance to the corridor. “Gale, can I speak with you?”

“Absolutely.” Gale obeyed. The couple wandered off without leaving the atrium.

Niaris picked algae off her head. Her snakes slithered around her fingers and begged her to remove the icky stuff. Even though she was among mortals, she stood alone. She didn’t want to watch Phoxene and Gale.

She longed to join them. And while she wouldn’t broach the subject herself, if they flirted with her again, she might act dumb, drunk, and go to bed with them. She’d no clue what it would be like, but she’d grown curious.

Last night had been torturous. She’d sat in the stern of the Gustfin, guarded the airships from beasties, and waited for everyone to awaken again. All the while, she’d been aware of how Phoxene and Gale slept in the same bed right under her feet. If she’d listened, she’d heard them snore.

At least she’d thought she did, but there had been a lot of wood between the top deck and the captain’s cabin. Who could tell whether she drove herself insane by staying near those two? Her convictions had proven flimsy after she’d disobeyed Dyella once by leaving her hiding place. She might falter again.

“What species are your snakes, demigod?” The woman with the phases of the moon tattooed on her forehead asked.

“They’re my species,” Niaris said, curtly, and watched Phoxene and Gale talk to each other while glancing at her. Did they think her blind? Why couldn’t Dyella have taught her different lessons?

“Sorry for asking, curious.”

Niaris laid a hand on the giant’s torso when she moved to leave. “Don’t apologize. To be honest, I wasn’t told. And I didn’t ask… I think my creators were inspired by various snakes, but they adopted their own twist.”

“They’re adorable.”

“I’m sure they appreciate hearing that.” Niaris smiled, and removed her hand from the giant, who left her standing on her own in the shadows. “I do.”

She’d not received orders from Phoxene, so she had to assume she had to follow them while they explored the temple. Not set up camp. Since the captain planned to bring the biggest group with her, she wouldn’t argue. She would do more good among a larger number of mortals. She may not be able to save everyone if they were attacked, but she would do her utmost.

Phoxene and Gale talked for a couple of minutes, and often, she caught them staring straight at her while she cleaned her robe. They should have brought her into their little circle of trust, it was obvious they discussed her. She hated thinking they’d gotten off on the wrong foot, or that she’d missed her chance.

Yes, they may be criminals and worse, but she kind of understood why. She could relate to how some of them had fallen into their lives by accident. None of the giants had wanted Thotrix to enslave them, yet they did their best with what they had. Dyella would never have abandoned her on purpose, but nonetheless, she had, and now Niaris had to do the best with what she had too.

If neither of her creators would interfere, she was free to do whatever she wished with her future. The prospect frightened and enticed. She would commit unforgiveable mistakes if she didn’t tread with caution. Mortals were clumsy, no wonder they ended up criminals.

The moment Phoxene slung an arm around Gale’s waist, bared her teeth in a predatory grin, and headed towards Niaris, her instincts told her to run and hide. When she didn’t move, however, her mind soon changed focus.

They were beautiful together. She would be lucky to share a moment with either of them, especially when she’d been drenched in ocean gunk. Compared to them in their soaked shirts and pants that clung to their curves, hips, and thighs, she felt like algae. And only partly because she’d swam through it.

“Niaris, would...” Phoxene stopped in front of her, hugged Gale tighter, and tapped a finger against her lips. “Would you mind coming with us for a walk, while the others set up camp? It’s sure to be faster to discover which rooms are worth investigating if we split up. Udfiol and Kan will oversee the rest of the expedition.”

“N-no…” Niaris should argue, if Phoxene planned to split them into even smaller groups, but she wavered under the pressure of her fierce eyes. She wanted to go with her friends and protect them, but more than that, she wanted to discover what they’d whispered about.

“It’ll be fine,” Gale said. “The others can defend themselves, and we won’t go too far. We’ll stay close enough that we can run back and regroup.”

“I…”

Phoxene stepped closer, dragged Gale with her. “As a demigod, wouldn’t you be able to crash through the walls and reunite the groups in no time?” She lifted her hand to Niaris chin, ran her thumb over her lower lips, and leaned in as if to kiss her. “My crew knew the danger they signed up for. Did you?”

Niaris swallowed. The snakes ceased to move. She shouldn’t reject offer after offer. “N-no, but I’ll see it through to the end. W-where do you want me?”

“Near me.” Phoxene hooked their arms together, neglected to kiss her, and lead her through the atrium towards another corridor. “Udfiol, Kan. I trust you to check the other corridors.”

“Will do,” Kan said.

“Captain.” Udfiol nodded.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. It would be sort of fitting, if she surrendered to desire where she’d been created. Her rebirth would be complete in the temple of Thotrix and Dyella. She could forego their teachings. It seemed her beliefs were outdated anyhow.

Exploration

With her arms around two exotic beauties, Phoxene became the pirate queen many only dreamed of being. A demigod on her right, a half-demon on her left. Who could ask for more? She, that’s who, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d discovered the artefact they required.

“Niaris, since you’re old, you wouldn’t happen to know who the men and women depicted as statues are?” Gale asked. “Were they famous?”

“N-no…” Niaris unhooked their arms but continued walking alongside Phoxene. “I know the temple, a little, but it was built before my creation. I’m only about two-thousand years or so. The city is much older than that, I think.”

“The city…?” Phoxene asked. “What city?”

“Nyve Aiqua. It’s on the bottom of the ocean now, the temple was built on a mountain.”

“Huh.” She’d not seen any signs of a city, or proof that they were inside a temple, but it made sense for the gods to build their temple near mortals. If they didn’t, humans might forget them, and then who would they force to do their bidding?

They entered a round chamber with a dead, grey tree in the middle. The tree’s canopy, roots, and branches stretched out into the ceiling and walls until they prevented it from growing further. It looked like someone of her size might have done if they’d been shoved into a small box.

Two feminine statues sat with their backs against the trunk of the tree, their chests pushed forward, and their legs sprawled across the floor. By far, they were the most lifelike statues she’d seen since they’d entered the ruins. She almost heard them whispering.

“You must know them.” Gale looked at Niaris. “Right?”

“Fiona and…” Niaris furrowed her brow, thought for a second. “No, not Fiona. Fate, and...” She groaned, threw a hand up, and waved at the seductive statues like they were of no interest. “They were both named names with the same first letter, and they were sisters, I think. Or very close friends. Lovers? I don’t—“

“Gods don’t interest me either.” Phoxene wrapped her arm around Niaris’ waist, pulled her close again. “But demigods do.”

“Subtle,” Gale muttered, so she dug her nails into her flesh and caused her to wince. The daft girl ought to know her place by now, yet she couldn’t stop running her tongue.

“Thank you.” Niaris hid her face under her snakes. “They were gods, that’s true. But someone betrayed the other. I forget who betrayed who. You’ve probably never heard of them anyway, if Dyella is gone.”

“Fate...” Gale trailed off, pointed at something behind the tree. Another corridor awaited them on the opposite side of the chamber. “We should leave. I’d prefer not to stay here.”

“Oh?” Phoxene couldn’t recall gods named Fate or Fiona. Maybe that was the name of the goddess of love Gale had once worshipped. Who knew? Who cared? “You’re right. This is a dreary room. Let’s hurry on, and find somewhere exciting. Nothing worth investigating here, unless you’ve got a hankering for statues.”

She led Niaris and Gale around the trees, assisted them over the largest roots, and smiled on the inside whenever she had to lift someone. When their bones pressed into her flesh, it reminded her of what she’d always wanted to do to a temple. Defile it. Corrupt whatever divine influence may linger in its architecture, and infuriate its gods by basking in the afterglow of her rebellious act. She may have come in search of artefacts to slay Thotrix, but they had time. They were in no immediate rush. They could do both.

Niaris slowed her steps before they arrived at an intersection in the next corridor. “The forge is this way…”

“Right? Left?”

“Forward.” Niaris nodded at what appeared to be a dead-end on first look, but on closer inspection, Phoxene noticed two braziers placed next to a smooth, imperceptible gate. “Past the gate. I think I can unlock it.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a demigod,” Gale said. “Why do you mean why? Did you forget?”

It seemed odd that Niaris could unlock any gate in a temple, just because she was a demigod. Furthermore, it seemed even odder that she knew what was behind that gate, or that it even was a gate. Phoxene would have dismissed it, as the dead-end it appeared to be, and gone right or left.

“Are you keeping secrets from me?” She let go of Gale, turned to Niaris, and inhaled the fruity scent that clung to the demigod even after she’d swum through algae. “Why do you know there’s a forge back there, Niaris? Do you know who this temple belonged to? You even knew about the city, which none of us saw signs of.”

Niaris rubbed her elbow, stared at the polished floor. “I do.”

“Phoxene, she’s—“

She shoved Gale away, focused on Niaris, and backed her up against the wall. “Who?”

“Dyella and—”

“Don’t say it.”

“She better say it.” Phoxene gritted her teeth. “Or I’ll hold you accountable for her lies. She may be immortal, but you’re not, Gale.”

“Dyella and Thotrix, my creators.” Niaris’ admission was a mere whisper, yet it raised the hairs on her arms.

The truth excited her. If she’d wanted to defile a temple to anger its god, she longed to do so much more with Niaris. She wasn’t just another demigod. She was special, because she’d been created by the monster who’d enslaved Phoxene and butchered her people. She ought to bash her face against the wall until the snakes stopped slithering and hissing, and Niaris bled out.

“Phoxene, don’t overreact.” Gale freed a dagger she’d hidden on her person.

She was outnumbered and alone, but only if she reacted with anger. If she set aside how Gale had betrayed her yet again, she wasn’t angry. No, she wanted to tie Niaris to her. No matter what price she may have to pay, she wanted to sway Niaris to her side and make her a loyal servant.

“I’m not angry.” Phoxene considered stepping away from the demigod who looked so ashamed and defeated, but instead she lifted her chin, gazed into her snake-like eyes, and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips. Thotrix’s daughter tasted of cacao. Bitter, nutty.

“No, apparently not…?” Gale said.

Niaris didn’t move. She must be twice as confused as Gale. Yet the second Phoxene stepped back, she felt a tentative, trembling hand on her ass. The sensation would have resulted in another kiss, and a lot more, if they’d not stood in the middle of a corridor. There was nowhere comfortable to screw Niaris’ brains out.

“The forge, then?” Gale hid the knife under her shirt again. “Unless you’d rather forget why we came to this temple? I’m up for a detour.”

Niaris wiped her lips on the back of her hand, eyed Phoxene like she craved a continuation, and lifted herself off the wall she’d fallen against. “I’ll unlock the gate. If there are no artefacts inside, I don’t know where they are.”

“I think we’ve discovered a different kind of treasure,” Phoxene murmured.

“Friendship,” Gale quipped.

“I swear on the gods, I will…” Phoxene bit her tongue, gestured for Niaris to go first, and followed her to the gate.

Gale hummed a joyous tune, while she traipsed after them. She seemed to be in a very happy mood, all of a sudden. The gate consisted of the same onyx stone as the walls, and it would have been easy to miss without a competent guide.

Phoxene watched Niaris slide her palms across the surface of the gate in search of something.

Gale leaned against her body, wrapped her tail around her leg, and grinned up at her like a love-struck fool. “I’m proud of you, you frigid bitch.”

“What if I didn’t attack her because I want to chain her up in my bedroom?” Phoxene asked. “What if I want to defile and destroy her like everything else Thotrix has ever made?”

“That’s hot.” Gale hummed. “I like the thought. Her creators imprisoned her for naught, so I don’t believe she would have joined them and fought.”

“I’ll gag you, keep you in a cage.” She sighed. “You’ve betrayed me twice, Gale. It doesn’t bode well for us. It deserves punishment.”

“Do it. Punish me. I crave it if it’s anything like what you plan to do with Niaris.”

The gate cracked, pebbles fell off it, and swung open. She would have answered Gale, but she didn’t know what to say. She had no problem with punishing them, chaining them up, and using them like her concubines, but then they had to agree to it. They had to swear they needed her to dominate them. She wouldn’t enslave anyone without their consent.

Forge

Gale breathed out in relief as soon as Phoxene rushed into the forge and began sorting through the rusty items on the tables, benches, and pedestals placed along the walls. She’d half-expected her to attack Niaris before they entered the room. Phoxene would have waited until they’d both dropped their guards to get the upper hand.

“Sorry, Gale,” Niaris whispered by the gate, twirled her fingers into the wet fabric of her robe. Her snakes swayed from side to side. “I thought my first kiss would be with you.”

Gale stopped halfway into the forge. “What?”

“Nothing!” Niaris raised her voice, turned to keep an eye on the corridor. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“I’m in no rush,” Gale said. No one could resist her voice, even if they could resist her charm. “Still, you’ll have to ask me, remember? I won’t throw myself on someone, if they don’t beg.”

“You think I’ll beg for it?”

“Yup.”

She walked along the rows of tables in search of weapons to give Phoxene as a gift, but Thotrix had cleaned out their forge well. She didn’t recognize every tool on top of the tables, but since they’d rusted, she had to assume they were not artefacts. They might have been useful for a smith, but they wouldn’t fit their purposes.

The first item she found that had to be an artefact was an egg placed on a pedestal in the middle of the chamber. Clouds shifted across its sky-like surface, drifted in and out, and reminded her of Caelora’s temperate climate. If she was to guess, the egg possessed power over the weather. It could be worth stealing. They may not have to worry about storms, if they learnt how to use it.

“Phoxene, what do you think?” Gale pointed at the egg.

Phoxene shrugged. “Doesn’t look like a weapon to kill a god with to me.”

“Me neither,” Niaris said. “It’s valuable, but we’ve no method to safely discover what it can do.”

“Yeah…” Gale raised her hand to touch the egg but changed her mind. If it altered the weather, she might sink their fleet by accident. Everyone would hate her then. She wouldn’t get a third chance with Phoxene. She may not even escape the temple alive.

In the ceiling, high above them, Thotrix had hung a brass beetle the size of a horse. If it’d had eyes, it might have stared at her and Phoxene while they searched for weapons, but it didn’t have human or elven features. Nor did it move or awaken from its slumber. It stayed suspended with thick metal ropes. If they could have gotten it down without crushing someone, she would have pointed it out to her friends.

Instead, she stumbled upon a gold box with an intricate pattern that depicted a battlefield with gods and armies, and an even more intricate lock. Since it had been crafted by the god of inventions, the lock might be beyond mortals’ comprehension.

She tried to lift the box, since it appeared small and weightless, but she couldn’t. Somehow, Thotrix must have attached it to the table, or made it much heavier than it appeared. If they couldn’t get it open, they couldn’t use it. Phoxene wouldn’t have an interest in the box since it was obviously not a weapon either, even if one might rest inside.

Thotrix’s forge stood behind a wall which separated it from the rest of the room. An azure, radiant liquid had pooled inside of its round metal shell, and on the floor in front of it. She’d no idea what the liquid might have been once, but it beckoned her to touch it. To stick her hand into it and find out for herself what might happen. It must have cooled after all these years, so she doubted she would injure herself, if she gave in to her curiosity.

Besides, she’d lost her right hand once. Maybe if she stuck it into this liquid that had been used by a god it would heal. It couldn’t make it worse, right?

She slipped her glove off, ignored Phoxene and Niaris while they talked with each other, and stepped up the stairs to the forge. She’d nothing to lose. Her right hand might serve every practical purpose, but it was ugly, horrific. No one wanted to see it.

“Gale? What are you doing?” Niaris asked. “Stop that.”

“I…” She inserted her arm into the forge, reached out for the liquid at the bottom that encouraged her to touch it, and paused. “Do you think it would restore my hand? Do you think it would make me normal again?”

“Possibly, but you shouldn’t mess with Thotrix. Have you learned nothing from Phoxene?”

“Yeah, Gale.” Phoxene chuckled, tossed tools that didn’t appeal to her onto the floor, and sorted through whatever remained. “Don’t mess with Thotrix, or they might clamp shackles onto your forearms too.”

She hesitated, waited until her friends busied themselves, then she shoved her skeletal hand into the liquid, and screamed as it grazed the skin on her wrist. It burned. Smoke rose out of the forge, while it seemed to shift from dormant to active.

“Come on, Gale.” Phoxene hoisted her out of the forge by the neck of her shirt, dropped her onto the floor, and made every attempt to stay out of the liquid that dripped off her hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

Niaris threw herself on the floor next to her, hugged her, and stroked her head. “I’m sorry, Gale. It’s my fault. If I’d not done such a poor job of healing your hand, you wouldn’t have—“

“Don’t blame yourself for the actions of someone who already threw their life away, once, ten years ago.” Phoxene pulled a disapproving face. “We should return to the camp. It’ll take me hours to go through everything in here, by myself, and now Gale’s injured herself. At least with Udfiol and Kan I can make progress.”

Gale appreciated their concern for her, even if Phoxene showed hers very differently from Niaris, but she was fine. She’d burnt her wrist on the liquid, yes, but she’d managed to coat her skeletal horror with a silvery film that resembled skin. It hadn’t given flesh to her bony hand, but she wouldn’t have to wear the glove everywhere. Not anymore.

“We can wait for you to fetch the others, doll.” Gale lifted her hand, held it up to the light, and marveled at its shine.

“I don’t trust you not to hurt yourself, and you and Niaris…” Phoxene trailed off. “Well, Niaris is important to me. You’re more of a pest I can’t escape.”

“I’m important to you…?” Niaris asked.

“Probably because you begged me to join you on this journey, so I could entertain you, please you.”

“Which you’ve still not done...” Phoxene’s words threw a promise into the air. The atmosphere grew heavy. They were alone, and could give in to their desires while they had privacy. No one would bother them.

“We should return to the camp.” Niaris broke the silence. “I wish to ensure the safety of everyone, and I can’t do that if we stay on our own too long. We don’t know what will happen to your hand either. The effect might be prolonged, slow.”

“Fine…” Gale wanted to spend days in the company of Niaris and Phoxene, but they wouldn’t have days unless they returned to the ships. At some point, their supplies would run out. “If that’s what you need to do, but we could…”

“What, Gale?” Niaris stood, extended her hand to her, and pulled her to her feet.

They more or less hugged when she got back up. She wouldn’t have to do much more than yank Phoxene into the hug, into Niaris sweet aura and scent, and they would surrender to each other. She’d hoped for a threesome with these two. Now she suspected she might get more than she’d bargained for, if they stepped into romantic waters together.

“Let’s leave before Gale gets ideas.” Phoxene cast a final look around the forge, strode over to the gate.

“You can have ideas about me, Gale,” Niaris whispered in her ear. “Dyella once said I was crafted to be irresistible to mortal eyes, even if I never thought I was. It’s only that I shouldn’t give in to your lusts.”

“I thought you had.”

“Not yet.” Niaris brushed the tip of her nose against her earlobe.

“We don’t have to go back. There’s plenty of space here.”

“No.” Niaris hurried over to the gate and joined Phoxene outside.

“Demigods…” Gale inspected her new hand, and pursued her friends out of the chamber. She hoped Niaris could be persuaded to join them, or she might have to entertain herself tonight, again. If she was lucky, her sense of touch would have been restored after sticking her fingers into the forge at least.

A Serpent’s Kiss

Niaris had admitted how Thotrix was her creator, and rather than making a futile attempt to injure her, Phoxene had stolen her first kiss. Even if she could never reclaim it from the thief, she didn’t hate how she’d lost it. She’d surrendered her thoughts, savoured Phoxene’s fiery taste, and nearly squeezed the captain’s butt.

Once everyone had gathered again, and the tents had been erected, Udfiol prepared dinner. Niaris gripped the harp under her robe. If the opportunity presented itself after the mortals had eaten, she would love to play for Gale and Phoxene.

Not one of them. No. Both. She craved both. She accepted it. If they didn’t make a move on her, she might enter the tent they shared while everyone slept.

“Fish, and fish, and fish.” Kan whined, sat next to Udfiol by the fire, and poked her shoulder. “And fish.”

“Perhaps seagull tastes good?” Udfiol said. “Or their eggs? Does anyone know?”

“Their eggs are edible,” a muscular warrior with bared arms said. “The birds? Not so much.”

“You could fetch eggs then, Kan, and I’ll cook them for you.”

“I might,” Kan lowered her voice, stayed put.

At least a hundred people had travelled with them on the four airships, yet Niaris had not gotten to know half of their names. She would defend them with her life, sacrifice her immortality, even if she didn’t know them personally, but it seemed a shame that she would never know them. They must have their own stories to tell. How had they become criminals, for example?

“Niaris.” Gale spooked her by sneaking up on her. “My hand’s fine, promise, but Phoxene and I were wondering if you’d like to join us in this pool we found. It’s not far. You can see all the way to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Yes.” Niaris realized what would happen if she slipped away from the group with the two women, but she was as ready as she would ever be. “Yes, I do.”

Gale took her hand in her left, squeezed it, and lent her the courage of a mortal. The others would be fine on their own. They wouldn’t be gone long. She wouldn’t forget anyone. Everyone would survive, even if she embraced her desires for the woman who’d rescued her from her loneliness and involved her in the adventure of her friends.

They found Phoxene in a large, round room with a shallow pool in the middle. She wasn’t certain bathing had ever been the room’s original purpose, since a world globe hovered on a pedestal placed on the glass floor of the pool, but they could bathe and wash in the water that had flowed in. Clean each other.

Phoxene had already gotten undressed, thrown her clothes on the golden floor around the pool, and stood with her back against them. Niaris had never seen such a handsome back. She longed to touch it, trace her fingertips across the scars, the tattoos, and pretend she could heal them, even if she would prefer to not attempt to heal anyone again. Not unless it was vital to their survival.

“Oh, I thought I would get a chance to bathe alone for once, but here you are.” Phoxene rolled her hips, mesmerized them with her curves. “Do you need your captain so bad you can’t leave her alone for a second?”

“Yes…” Niaris slipped a foot into the water, stepped gently into the pool. “I do. You stole a kiss from me, and now I—“

“Shouldn’t you undress Niaris?” Gale pulled her shirt over her head, threw it on top of Phoxene’s clothes.

“No.” Niaris stopped behind Phoxene, too far to reach out and touch her back. She could still retreat and forget what she’d seen. It would be nigh impossible when the siren kept dancing, tantalizing her with the languid movements of her body, but she could try. “She should undress me.”

“She should?” Phoxene turned her head to the side, grinned. “I didn’t know you could make demands of your captain, Niaris. Did you, Gale?”

“Didn’t think she had it in her.”

Gale entered the pool with a splash. Niaris lowered her gaze to stare through the glass floor at the corrals, tropical fishes, and ruins at the bottom of the ocean. She took one step toward Phoxene, then another, and another. Her heart fluttered.

“You may be a captain, Phoxene, but I’m a demigod, and by the decree of the gods, I outrank you.” The snakes hissed at her heresy. She’d not meant what she’d said. She’d merely wanted to put a crack in Phoxene’s unquestionable confidence.

“Are you telling me to fall to my knees, demigod? Bow?”

“No, I—“

“Yes, you are, Niaris. Don’t back down.” Gale tugged on her robe, slid a hand between her shoulder blades. “You deserve to have us kneel in front of you, don’t you?”

“No.” She insisted. “I’m telling her to undress me. If she can steal a kiss from me, she can steal my clothes too. My dignity, my outdated beliefs.”

“There’s no shame in this, Niaris.” Phoxene spun around, the wet, red hair clung to her neck, her chest, and her round breasts. It concealed too much of their captain, and Niaris reached up to remove it from her skin but stopped herself. “See, you learn fast.”

“I’m not undressed yet,” she said.

“You’re an insistent little pest, aren’t you?” Phoxene wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into her body, so Niaris’ face ended up between her breasts. “If you kiss me with that impressive tongue of yours, I’ll undress you.”

“If Phoxene doesn’t do it, do I get the pleasure?” Gale dropped to her knees, lifted Niaris’ robe, and caressed her thighs with her hands. Then she giggled and disappeared under her garb. “Actually, keep it on.”

Niaris shivered when Gale got too close to sensitive spots. If Phoxene planned to undress her, she best hurry before the singer transformed her into a lustful excuse of a demigod.

She extended her tongue, slid it along Phoxene’s tanned skin, the tattoo of a kraken, and tasted salt water. With her tongue’s natural bendiness, she twisted it around the captain’s breast and flicked it across her nipple.

“On…” Phoxene seemed surprised, a moan slipped out her mouth. “On the lips, Niaris. That’s… that’s getting ahead of yourself.”

“Is it?” Niaris squinted, a snake snapped for Phoxene’s hair. “You liked it. I shouldn’t, I was raised properly, but... You’re a bad influence, captain. A criminal.”

Phoxene grabbed her face with both hands, bent down so they came face to face, and shoved her tongue past her lips.

If Niaris were to do the same, her tongue would end up in Phoxene’s throat, and neither of them would find that pleasurable. Instead, she allowed the captain to do whatever she wanted. Gale reminded them of her existence by making them trip over her and fall into the water.

Phoxene landed on top of her, tore Niaris’ robe open, and trailed her chest with fierce kisses. She feared they would break the glass floor if they played with such ferocity, such unbridled desire, but she could breathe underwater. She could save them from drowning.

“You’re very into each other, and it’s a sight to behold, but I’m here too…” Gale slid up alongside her and grinned at Niaris, while Phoxene ignored her request to toy with breasts the divine had sculpted.

Niaris reached out to touch Gale’s face, quaked in the wake of Phoxene’s ministrations, and watched the half-demon suck on her fingers. “Thank you…”

“For what? I’ve not gotten a chance to worship you yet.” Gale kissed her hand. “I’ll do my best to repay you, Niaris. You should have been a god. You would’ve been a great replacement for any of them.”

“I agree.” Phoxene bit her breasts, kneaded them with her hands. “Even I might have prayed to you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Niaris had been corrupted by these two, lust, and loneliness since she’d arrived in Thylatserine. If she tasted true divine power of her own, she would only become worse. “It won’t end well.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Phoxene helped her out of her robe, undid its straps, bared her nude form to their eyes.

“Do you want to beg for that kiss now, Niaris?” Gale lay next to her, placed her bony, silver hand on top of her stomach. “Or should I tease you first?”

“Please kiss me, Gale.”

She twisted her head to her friend, yet Phoxene distracted her by lowering herself between her legs. The captain winked, licked her lips, and rolled her eyes up under her lids before contorting her face in ecstasy and moaning. If she was that good at faking it, Niaris would never know whether she’d satisfied her or not.

She wrapped her legs around Phoxene’s head, slid a foot along her gorgeous back, and glanced at her while Gale kissed her. Their tongues played together, for the first time ever, yet it felt so welcome and natural. A kiss with Gale inspired deep devotion, and tasted of rum and joy.

Phoxene and Gale shattered whatever she may have kept of Dyella’s teachings. They made her new with their tongues in her depths, their fingers along her divine figure, and their eagerness.

She’d never been told stories of love between mortals and demigods, and it soon became evident why. She wouldn’t have kept her innocence long, if she’d known what it may have felt like to have a giant eat her flower till she screamed, banged her fists against the glass underneath them, and erupted on her face.

Phoxene only grinned when she squirted over her beautiful features, and it only made her crave her more. She would have asked what she could do to please her in turn, but couldn’t formulate the words. Her tongue failed her, she panted. Phoxene rose from the pool, stepped around Gale, and lowered herself to sit on Niaris’ face.

“Kiss me with your long tongue, Niaris. Kiss me deeper than anyone.” Phoxene stretched, intertwined her fingers in her own hair, and waited for a ride.

“She’s serious…” Gale smacked Phoxene’s fine butt before she moved to lie opposite Niaris in the pool, grabbed her legs, and slid her own up along her curves.

Eventually, the half-demon had pushed their sensitive buds together, and began to grind against her. It couldn’t be decent for them to pleasure each other like this, but they were way past that. At least Gale proved she lived up to her heritage.

“Inside.” Phoxene slid a hand into the snakes on her head and caressed them until she’d tamed them. “Now, Niaris. Gale’s a distraction. I’m your captain, and your captain is telling you to kiss her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kissed Phoxene’s petals, drenched her mouth in sweet juices, and inserted her tongue further into a mortal than she’d ever thought she’d want to be. And then, she delved further still. Phoxene shook, spasmed, and rode her face hard.

Thank the gods she didn’t have to breathe, or the captain would have choked her out.

At some point, Phoxene fell forward, but since she remained seated on her mouth, with her tongue buried inside, and Niaris was far too distracted by Gale’s tireless efforts to grind their hips together, she didn’t stop. She kept her tongue busy until she expected most of the liquid on her neck, face, and chest wasn’t water. It was too sticky, smelled too much like Phoxene’s fire.

They switched positions, often, during however long they played. Gale rode her face harder than Phoxene, and showed no mercy, despite how they were supposed to be friends.

Niaris had thought the captain would last the longest of the two, but halfway through, Phoxene ended up in a sweaty heap. She mewled and whimpered and begged for them to carry on without her, while they put her in the middle, attended to each other, and used her as a tool for their needs.

Niaris kept an eye on Phoxene to ensure she lived through the ordeal, but she couldn’t deny how nice it was to use the captain’s fingers as a toy to clamp between her legs while she tasted every centimeter of Gale’s body.

She couldn’t become exhausted, not by the measure of mortals, yet Gale made her more tired than anyone had ever managed. She’d run for days on end with Dyella, centuries ago, and somehow, Gale almost brought her to that point before she collapsed herself.

Niaris won. To demonstrate how she wasn’t a braggart, though, she lifted her friends over to the side of the pool, leaned them against its edges, so they wouldn’t slink under and drown, and then she resumed where she’d stopped.

She sat between them, studied their nakedness with her fingers, kissed their cheeks, and gave into pure curiosity. She compared their bodies to each other, researched their different reactions to her touch, and squealed when they tried to speak and failed.

They fell asleep against her. She’d brought them higher than anyone, and now, she could nap for a bit if she wished, or she could stay and wait for her lovers to awaken.

She did the latter. She extended her legs into the pool, curled her toes, and sat and watched the fishes on the bottom of the ocean.

Phoxene and Gale stirred against her nude figure every once in a while, murmured her name, and made her happy with her choice. Lust was amazing to share. What might love be like? Could they love her? Or was there too great a gap between their lives and hers?

Goddess

Phoxene blinked her eyes open, overcome by a sense of completion. Niaris sat next to her naked, watched the bottom of the ocean, and expelled adorable sounds of delight whenever she spotted a fish that intrigued her.

She’d told Gale that she would choose to love her, if love could be a choice, but she knew she had to make an addendum to that statement. If they didn’t include Niaris, would their love even be worth the effort?

She didn’t think herself greedy by choosing both of them, and she understood that she might disappoint them with her other commitments if they became expendable, but in the moment, she would rather have them than a dead god. Thotrix’s daughter almost made her think she could forgive the god of inventions.

Of course, she couldn’t. The cogs still clicked and whirred in her arms, where flesh should have been, but Niaris made her think of them less as shackles. The demigod had snakes for hair, yet it didn’t bother her. She not only seemed happy with their existence, but as if she wouldn’t want to lose them.

“Niaris…” Phoxene murmured with her head on her perfect shoulder.

“Yes?” Niaris smirked like Gale might have, if she’d been awake, and slid a finger along her arm. “Do you wish to go again? I think we should return to the others first. I want to ensure everyone survives this expedition, or I won’t count it a success.”

“I…” She kissed her skin. “I noticed an instrument in your robe, a harp, when I undressed you. Do you play?”

Niaris nodded, tentatively. “I do. I forgot it was in there, but don’t worry, it was given to me by Dyella. You can’t break it. You don’t own anything that powerful, Phoxene.”

“I could drop it in the forge.”

“You could. Who knows, it might melt then.” Niaris stretched her hand out toward the robe that had sunk to the bottom of the pool due to the weight of the harp. The garb awakened, flew through the air, and landed in Niaris’ grip. “Nevertheless, you have to remember, the forge was created by Thotrix with another type of divinity than Dyella’s. They’re of equal power. The forge isn’t stronger than the harp.”

“Teasing.” Phoxene yawned. “Would you play for me?”

“No, Gale’s not awake.” Niaris threw her robe out of the pool, so it landed on top of their shirts. The harp looked so unreal that its music might be unfit for mortal ears. Phoxene had never seen an artefact of such grace, but it suited Niaris.

She didn’t wish to defile her anymore. They’d done a number on each other, and while she might change her mind later, when her body yearned for more, she’d like to get to know the demigod who might have been her rival, her greatest threat, under other circumstances. Niaris was a worthy opponent.

“I’ll wake her for you.” Phoxene stumbled to her feet, crumbled because her legs wouldn’t carry her, and landed in the water in front of Gale. The energetic half-demon mumbled, and laughed in her sleep, but didn’t awaken.

“Let her sleep, she doesn’t—“

“Who are you kidding, Niaris? Gale loves music.” Phoxene pulled herself up next to Gale, blew air in her ear, and moaned louder, louder to wake the daft girl. “Oh, you’re so good, Gale! Keep going! Almost there, almost there.”

“What!” Gale blinked, rapidly, and rubbed grogginess out of her eyes. “Where!”

“Nowhere.” Niaris frowned, hugged Gale, and ran a hand along her horns. “Phoxene is teasing you.”

“Aw.” Gale looked disappointed. “You should wake me up like that every day, doll. I love to hear you moan.”

“I know.” Phoxene laid an arm around Gale, scooted up closer to her, so their legs grazed each other. “But Niaris wants to play her harp for us, and I know you wouldn’t want to miss it for the world. You get off on music.”

“Niaris has a harp?” Gale observed the naked demigod with great interest. “Can you play? If you can’t, can I see it? I can play every instrument in the world, believe me, if you give me some weeks to practice.”

“I can play. I…” Niaris hid the harp behind her leg, where Phoxene had sat a moment ago. “I’m not anywhere near as talented as you though, Gale. I don’t…”

“Please, please, play for us!” Gale begged and splashed water on both of them when she got too excited and brought her hands down into the pool. “I need to hear it, Niaris. I’ve heard you moan, and that was out of this world. I can’t imagine what music you might create with your nimble fingers.”

Niaris blushed, lifted the harp into her lap. Gale’s jaw dropped at the sight of the instrument. “What do you want me to play? I learned several songs from my time, from musicians in this city too.”

“Woah…” Gale touched the harp with her left hand, caressed it more gently than she’d caressed either of them, and seemed to forget how Niaris had asked her a question.

“Your favourite?” Phoxene suggested. She didn’t know a lot about music, other than how those she’d grown a tad fond of both had devoted their time to learning how to sing and play. She guessed she had a thing for musicians then, even if she wouldn’t admit that to anyone.

“My favourite…”

“Yeah, play your favourite song for us, Niaris,” Gale said.

Niaris sat silent for a bit, then she ran her fingers along the strings of the harp. The intro sounded like a thousand sirens calling out to Phoxene’s heart, assuring her they would bring her home, safe and sound, and she had to fight back tears. She hadn’t even known she could cry.

“Are you crying, Phoxene?” Gale asked.

“I don’t cry, daft girl.” Phoxene grabbed her horn and twisted her head, so she looked at Niaris. It was a better sight.

Niaris fumbled with the harp when she noticed their reactions, yet even then, she created extraordinary music. Sounds which no mortals should be privy to. The thousand sirens inherent in the sound of Niaris’ harp may as well have flashed them their tits, because both her and Gale just sat, gawked, and nodded to the rhythm.

She rested her head on Gale’s chest, reached around her, and stroked Niaris’ back to encourage her to play. They could stay put. Kan and Udfiol could lead the expedition without her, if they had to. They may struggle a bit at first, but she had full faith in them, or she wouldn’t have made them captains in her fleet.

“I can’t play anything as well as you…” Gale sniffled. “Even my voice is—“

“Your voice is the best sound throughout the realms.” Niaris grew flustered. “It severed my chains, changed my future, the moment I heard it. My music doesn’t compare to yours, Gale. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You complement each other,” Phoxene said.

If Niaris’ harp inspired her to cry for the first time since she’d been a young girl, a desolate slave, Gale’s voice promised adventure and endless excitement. If love could be a choice, it forced her to choose both of them. Life would be dull without one or the other.

They might agree to involve her in the fling they’d had going for a decade, or decide to carry on on their own, but they would be inseparable after Niaris had played her harp for Gale’s ears.

She dried her tears with her thumb. It would be a shame to sacrifice her life to kill the god who’d enslaved her. It would be a failure on her part, if she didn’t manage to slay Thotrix and survive. Maybe Niaris would resurrect her too, even though she doubted it.

Who could tell where she would end up once she died? Unlike Gale, she’d never been a good person. She’d always had evil inside of her. Often, she’d pictured killing her master and his family before she’d fallen asleep in chains.

“I miss my family a lot less when I’m with you two,” Gale said. “I never forgot about them before, but this… this is nice.”

Niaris plucked at the strings of her harp, hummed like Gale often did, and replied with wondrous music rather than words. With her harp, she swore she would carry their burdens and heal their scars.

A day ago, Phoxene would have laughed and laughed at such a notion. Now she only listened and wiped her tears out of her eyes before one of her lovers noticed them. Together, they could reach for the sky.

The temple trembled, assailed by an earthquake. Huge stones and debris fell out of the ceiling, landed around them, and cracked the glass floor in the pool. She didn’t quite register it as real while she listened to the song emanating from Niaris’ harp.

“Beasties.” Niaris stopped playing.

Something moved at the bottom of the ocean, caused the fish to flee in terror, and the temple to fall in on itself. Few things had ever scared her, yet when the ocean floor shook corrals and sand off it to reveal tentacle after tentacle concealed under decades of grime, she sat frozen. A chunk of the ceiling almost crushed her when it cracked the golden floor.

The beasts Niaris had warned them about were titans from what she managed to glean of the creature before the demigod tore her out of the pool, forced her clothes into her arms, and dragged her and Gale along with her into the corridor. If an immortal fled, it seemed appropriate to do the same.

Hope

Caelora. Furore had grown sick of the peaceful village after it had become clear its inhabitants resented her. Yet when she landed in the square next to The Amiciers’ Rest, late at night, she couldn’t resist grinning.

She liked knowing she wouldn’t have to leave the village to find the last couples she’d personally assisted with their problematic love lives. Not to mention, Hope was bound to welcome her like she’d welcome any guest. Venviel and Hymn had abandoned her, sure, but Hope was a true believer.

She may not have coin to rent a room, unless she popped by her temple in Lho Allanar, but she could trade in wishes. They would be grateful for whatever she could give them. And honestly, she could give them a great deal if they presented her with the right material.

She only needed them to say that she’d improved their lives, so she could spread the word to Rhabour, and then she would leave them in peace. No more mishaps. No more interfering in their lives. They only had to thank her.

Furore groaned in displeasure. Yeah, that would happen. She realized none of them thought highly of her after everything they’d endured. She could try to convince herself that they owed her, that they must bow and scrape and show gratitude, but she didn’t even fool herself. They would never demean themselves for her.

Hope thought of her as a false goddess to this day, despite how she continued to pray to the goddess of love. Venviel would impale her on another blade, or arrow, like Leyla and Syvis had done. It might be entertaining to watch Hymn run from her, yet after Gale’s death, she imagined the surviving twin wouldn’t move.

No, Hymn would punch her in the face, spit on her, and kick her in the groin. Iorvil might be her best bet for a civilized conversation, and only because the woman had never worshipped her. She’d never been loyal to any other god than Rhabour.

Furore knew the couples lived in different homes, but she figured she may as well begin in the tavern, so she strode around the building, listened outside its door for voices, and entered when she heard none.

A couple of pirates had fallen asleep at their tables, but other than those, the tavern lay empty. She was surprised Hope and Venviel trusted their patrons to the point where they didn’t even lock their bottles in for the night. Anyone could wander downstairs from their room and steal their preferred drink of choice.

A loud crash resounded from the kitchen, like someone had dropped a plate. She donned her disguise of a dark-skinned sailor elf, snuck past the tables, and stopped by the door to the kitchen to peek inside.

Hope glared between the shards of the plate and Venviel. Furore detected fury in her hypnotizing, blank eyes. She’d not seen Hope enraged, ever, as far as she could recall.

“What?” Venviel asked, crossed her legs, and leaned against a counter. “Are you the only one who gets to be upset around here, Hope? I can’t express my emotions?”

“Your parents taught you wrong, if you think you can toss plates at me.” Hope clenched her teeth, even as sorrow permeated her slumped shoulders and the way she held her body. “I’m your wife, not your target.”

“You think I forgot?” Venviel raised her nose and reminded Furore of the many times she’d made cocky stands against Lho Allanar’s soldiers, while she’d lived a double life as Orchid Brave. “I married someone strong, someone young, who I loved. She may have been crazy, but her integrity was no less impressive.”

“Like you haven’t changed, elf.” Hope buried her gaze into Venviel’s soul, yet the elf didn’t avert her gaze to shield herself from her demonic power.

For a second, Furore waited with bated breath for Hope to order Venviel to pick up the shards of the plate, but she didn’t. Or maybe she couldn’t. It was unclear whether her powers still worked on Venviel or if she even tried using them. After all these years, Venviel might have developed immunity.

“I haven’t…” Venviel broke eye contact first. “Nowhere near as much as you, even though I wish I had. I wish I didn’t have to see you grow old and feeble in front of my eyes, and I wish…”

“Gale was still around. Me too.” Hope suppressed tears, hugged herself, and crossed the kitchen floor to stand near Venviel. “I’m sorry, Miss Amicier, that life with me hasn’t been the easiest.”

“I never asked for easy.” Venviel hugged her wife, rested her forehead against Hope’s, and brought her into a protective embrace. “But in a decade or two, I fear I may as well return to Lho Allanar to claim revenge for my parents. And you.”

“You shouldn’t…” Hope whispered, clutched Venviel’s brown shirt. “I won’t want you to do that. I’d sooner know you stayed in Caelora, took another love, than—“

“I can’t love someone else.”

“You can try.”

“I won’t.”

Furore stopped listening in on their conversation, since they seemed more interested in crying and consoling each other than talking with her anytime soon. Maybe she should have sought out Hymn first. Compared to the creeping realization that she’d failed Hope, she could have taken a punch or two. A beating, if that’s what Hymn figured she deserved.

Rhabour and Fate were right. She may have resurrected the grand capital of elves, but Caelora had arisen because of her failures. If she’d ruled Lho Allanar with compassion, kindness, and used her awesome powers for the benefit of her followers, Caelora may never have had to exist. There wouldn’t have been a need for the village if Hope and Venviel could have lived in Lho Allanar, and raised their children in the city.

She flicked her wrist, summoned one of the black apples she’d once given to Leyla to make her life as long as Fayeth’s, and considered tossing it at Hope’s head. The fruits only grew in Lho Allanar’s volcanic soil these days. Still, she knew that if she tossed it at Hope, she would not eat it. She would not care to taste it.

Besides, it was a very brutish, very demonic way of behaving. Had she not risen above every demon in existence after she’d killed Dyella and usurped her throne? In sheer power, yes, she had. But she lacked many of the positive qualities the former goddess of love had possessed. Even in comparison to Fate and Rhabour, she fell short.

Rhabour was wise, patient, and understanding. He never punished his mortals. He never toyed with them. Fate was… Furore didn’t know. She’d only first met Fate after the goddess had been claimed by melancholia.

Fate had corrupted Lho Allanar, lied to everyone, yet in the end, she’d slaughtered Keerla and reminded every freaking elf in the city that they best improve or else. She’d issued a threat that still hung above their heads, every day, since the eerie red glow hadn’t disappeared from the city.

What had Fate been like in the beginning? Throughout the ages? Maybe she’d had as many positive qualities as Rhabour before she’d sunk deeper and deeper into her own shadow. Furore would have loved to learn the truth, but unless she made an effort to get to know Fate, warts and all, she never would.

She didn’t need to speak with Venviel or Hope. It might present them with temporary relief from pain to stab, kick, and spit on her, but it wouldn’t solve their problems. It wouldn’t bring their daughter back to life.

Furore couldn’t do it either, since she wasn’t the goddess of death, and Gale’s death had been the result of her own free will. If she sought out the bard in the afterlife, she suspected she wouldn’t have any power over her. When she’d saved Venviel and Hope, they’d not been dead yet. They’d teetered on the edge, but she’d pulled them back from the brink.

She crushed the black apple in her hand, dropped it on the floorboards, and teleported out of the tavern up into the clouds above Caelora. If she planned to persuade Fate to rejoin her side, she had to stop thinking like a demon. She had to stop making deals with mortals. More than anything, she had to cease toying with their lives. It drove them away from her. One day, she might end up with no worshippers, not a single one, and it would mean the end. She would perish.

She’d not known Dyella well. She’d resented the former goddess of love for making it difficult for her to live out her fantasies as a succubus in Thylatserine. Mortals had been far too uptight, too strict, back then. Sex and lust had been reserved for those who’d married, and those who’d chosen to live their lives without any shot at true love. Prostitutes and deviants had been treated like filth. Less than everyone who groveled to the teachings of Dyella.

She’d done everyone a service when she’d assassinated Dyella, everyone, but nevertheless, if she planned to rise to the occasion and prove her allies wrong, she could learn from her. She could think like Dyella might have done, look down on Caelora, and grant it what she thought it deserved.

One apple was a pathetic gift from a goddess, even a bag of seeds had been pathetic when she’d first given it to Fayeth and Leyla. She stretched her hands out at Caelora, curved her mouth into a grin, and imagined herself reaching into the dirt to pull trees out of the soil.

They sprouted quickly, creaked, grew taller than the homes next to them, and encouraged her to think she was part of something greater than herself. If she died, by the hand of mortal or god, the trees with their black apples steeped in truths of eternal life would remain. They would give humans and mortal demons the opportunity to enjoy love well past their natural lifespans, if they ate the apples and their true loves were elves. The same rule Leyla had abided.

Other gods may resent her for granting them such powerful fruit, but she didn’t care. She had to step up her game, if she wanted to be taken seriously by anyone, or stay alive half as long as the oldest god.

Yes, she was a baby goddess, but she didn’t intend to remain one forever. She’d had high ambitions once, of war, strife, and conflict. She’d calmed down, but maybe she’d been wrong to do so.

If she could spread her faith across Thylatserine, and improve the lives of those who found themselves devalued by other gods, she ought to do so. She ought to make a stand, because she’d almost been as weak as them once.

“I’m sorry!” She shouted at Caelora.

She still had to check in on Hymn and Iorvil, and then, Lho Allanar. But maybe, Fate and Rhabour should be included in the decision of the city’s future.

Primal Fear

The temple came apart at its foundations.

Niaris watched her friends, and lovers, flee in terror. They stumbled over each other on their way out, left their tents behind, and didn’t listen to her despite how she tried to soothe their panicked hearts by assuring them they would survive if they cooperated.

Her snakes hissed, her mind told her she only had one course available to her if she wished to save them all. She had to turn and face the beast. If she didn’t, it might eat Gale, Phoxene, and everyone.

Unfortunately, if she did stop and confront the ancient beast from the depths, it would eat her. And she wasn’t certain she could survive that.

The beasts had been birthed from the same divine power which had created her. They might be stronger than a demigod. If they were, her immortality wouldn’t count.

“In the boats!” Phoxene roared at those who’d jumped into the water and algae outside the temple in the belief they could escape faster if they swam for their lives.

They got sucked under the surface. Bubbles emerged where they’d been a second ago.

She’d seen something similar, in a distant past. They’d screamed for help while they’d gotten sucked down and eaten by the beast, but no one had heard them. Only bubbles had come out of their mouths. No words.

“Don’t.” Gale gripped her arm, as if she’d predicted how she’d considered diving in after them. “Unless you know you can beat it, I don’t want to see you sacrifice yourself for fools.”

“She’s right.” Udfiol kicked a rowboat filled with warriors in it far into the waves. “They signed up for death or glory, and they got death.”

“I can’t be that callous…”

“As your captain, I—“

A gargantuan tentacle slammed onto the defensive wall on the left side of the temple, cleaved it in half, and destroyed the structure. Another wrapped itself around the wall on the right side, tightened its grip, and hoisted the temple high out of the water.

Intense quakes made it impossible for anyone to stay on their feet. Kan and four warriors tumbled out of the entrance.

Niaris looked at Phoxene to see whether she would order her to dive in after the other captain, but her mouth didn’t move, and the destruction was far too loud for Niaris to hear what she might have said. If Phoxene asked, later, she would claim she’d misheard and believed she’d told her to save them.

Yet even though she stepped closer to the edge, Gale refused to relinquish her grip on her. If she jumped into the water from their current height, from where she could see the airships fight off three separate tentacles, Gale would break several bones. She wouldn’t survive the fall unscathed.

“Let me go!”

“No, I won’t! Kill me!”

She growled. “Let me go, Gale, or I will put you back where we—“

An explosion of pure light in the sky blinded her, blurred her vision.

“Down!” The command echoed throughout the world, through the water, and the beast halted its assault.

Whoever had just decided to help must be a true goddess, but from the distance between them, she couldn’t discern who they were. Neither Dyella nor Thotrix had thought to give her heightened sight. Oh, no, snakes were so much more useful.

The beast resumed its assault on the airships, embraced one of them in its slimy grip, crushed it under the force of its tentacles, and sunk it into the ocean.

Niaris didn’t know which ship they’d lost. Phoxene didn’t look upset, Udfiol muttered what might have been a prayer.

“Kan…” Gale murmured. “She—“

“You stupid and deaf?” The goddess in the sky scoffed. “Assistance.”

A second explosion of light erupted in the sky next to the first, but this time, she had the foresight to shield her eyes with her arm.

She couldn’t hear the conversation between the gods, yet a moment later, the first to arrive on the scene dove into the water and trailed a beam of light beside her. She exploded once more deep underwater, close to where the head of the beast must hide.

The temple quaked. Or no, Thylatserine did. The infuriated goddess cracked the realm of the mortals when she attacked the beast.

“Fate…?” Gale hid behind her.

The tentacles died in the wake of the goddess’ only attack.

One moment they gripped the temple, attacked the three remaining airships all at once, and the next, they fell. And when the tentacles weren’t there to suspend them high in the air, the temple crashed down with everyone inside.

She held Gale and Phoxene, tight, in the hopes she could dampen their fall and take the brunt of the force. If they died, she would be forced to return to her prison. They’d done so much for her in such a short time. Lust may carry her into love’s embrace yet, if she kept them alive.

The temple plunged into the ocean, filled with water, and threatened to sink them in a watery grave.

She could bring her lovers to the ships, unless they’d been sunk as well in whatever huge wave might have been caused by the falling dead tentacles, but she would have to swim back and forth more than once for the others.

A dragon with alabaster fur peeked its elongated head into the entrance of the temple, smiled at her, and granted her serenity with a single look. One by one, the warriors, Udfiol, Gale, and Phoxene disappeared in flashes of soft light.

“You’ll make it on your own?” The dragon asked. Since she heard him underwater, she assumed he was the second god to arrive.

She shook her head, reached out to touch his fur, and the soft light engulfed her too.

Next thing she knew, she landed on the drenched deck of the Gustfin. The others lay sprawled around her. The gods had even rescued Kan, but she saw no sign of the warriors who’d tried to swim for their lives, or the warriors and pirates which might have been on the airship they’d lost.

The beast had claimed Thotrix’s Bane, so that left The Disgrace, Gustfin, and Little Shark relatively intact. They’d sustained damage, cracks in their hull, but they’d not sunk. They would fight another day.

“My lost faithful…” The dragon smiled at Udfiol, Kan, and Phoxene, then turned his head to grin at the bloodied Saufnein, who’d lead the battle from Little Shark. Sauft looked more injured than she’d ever seen him, not that they’d known each other long. “I should have been with you from the beginning. I did my best.”

“We’re alive, I guess.” Phoxene got to her feet, grunted, and buttoned the shirt she’d slung over her arms while they’d fled. “Thank you for your help, Rhabour, but we are not your faithful. We do not follow gods who desert us, or any gods at all, for that matter.”

Niaris suspected everyone wished Phoxene would keep her tongue in check, when she mouthed off against the god who’d saved them from their doom.

“We arrive in peace.” The dragon lowered his head, and furled his wings along his sides, until it almost appeared as if he bowed to them. “Alone. There won’t be chaos this time, since we’ve distracted the perpetrator of it. Only vengeance.”

Daughter of Gold

Gale coughed up water, stared at the blue sky overhead, and thanked her goddess she’d not died while Rhabour addressed the dolls. It would have been a terrible shame to die the same day she’d had a threesome and heard the wonder of Niaris’ harp. She’d not asked for Fate to appear in person, but she’d prayed intensely during what she’d thought were their last minutes alive.

“I bring my gift.” Fate stated, appeared in their midst, and stole everyone’s attention from Rhabour by holding a brittle glass dagger over her head. “Grinja. Fell into Furore’s possession, goddess of love, and slayed one deity. Dyella.”

Niaris’ eyes widened and she crawled backwards along the deck of the Gustfin to escape. Gale dragged herself up behind the demigod, welcomed her into her arms, and sang in her ear. It was the least she could do to calm her love. Niaris whimpered in her embrace.

They belonged together. No one had made her think she’d want to spend her life with them, not before, but her bath with Niaris and Phoxene had put strange ideas in her head. Could she have that experience every day?

“We’ll lend you the energy to jump to Broken Shield as well,” Rhabour said. “Then you’re on your own. Thotrix has gone mad, but in no way decreased in strength. You’re the last chance your dead brethren have for revenge.”

“Who wields Grinja?” Fate lowered her arm, opened her palm, and waited for someone to grab the dagger. “Didn’t reclaim it for me. Reclaimed it for you. It’s yours to kill Thotrix. Swore to do better with my next favoured mortal, but since I was given a second chance with the one who died… Grinja is yours.”

Gale wondered why Phoxene didn’t pipe up now. Sure, Fate had gotten them into a real mess last, but she seemed honest this time. It wasn’t like they could return to the temple in search of artefacts either. It’d sunk to the bottom of the ocean, and other beasts might be drawn to the lifeless tentacles to feed.

“I’ll wield it,” Niaris said and pushed her fear down. “Give it to me, goddess. I’ll slay your enemy for you.”

“It killed your creator…?” Gale whispered, furrowed her brow. “Shouldn’t you not touch it?”

“If no one accepts it, she might leave with the dagger.”

“I’ll wield it!” Gale shouted.

“No,” Phoxene finally said. “It’s my burden. It falls upon me to see this through to the end, so the dagger belongs to me.”

“Don’t care.” Fate shrugged, tilted her hand forward, and watched Grinja slide out of her open palm and land in the water on deck. “Someone stab Thotrix for Rhabour.” The golden goddess flapped her deer-like ears, winked at Gale. “If you kill a god, you achieve fame beyond the wildest dreams. Don’t die twice.”

Fate disappeared in another explosion of light and blinded everyone who stared at her. Rhabour sat up on his haunches, nodded at Phoxene, and followed his fellow goddess without the same fanfare. One moment he sat on the deck of the Gustfin, the next he was gone.

“Maybe we should leave the dagger where it is?” Phoxene sounded nervous.

“We shouldn’t linger here, that’s for sure!” Sauft called out to them from his airship. “Who knows what might appear if we do? Can we even be sure they killed that monster?”

“I hate octopus more than fish now.” Kan grumbled. “Sunk my ship. Bastard.”

“I’m kind of done with the ocean air too,” Udfiol said, moved towards her own ship, and waved for the crew to extend a gangway for her to cross. “Join me on The Disgrace, Kan.”

“Or stay put.” Phoxene extended her leg and touched Grinja with her toes. “Everyone who’s injured should stay put where they are, till someone can have a look at their injuries. We’ll drift closer to the coast and dry our ships for a few days, where it’s safer, but we need to rest. Whenever we’re ready, we’ll jump into the empire to slay a god. Free our enslaved sisters and brothers. They won’t suffer their shackles much longer.”

Someone cheered, but most of them seemed to have taken a hit to their morale. They got to their feet, dispersed. If Gale had a purpose on this journey, it was to entertain Phoxene’s warriors, captains, and inspire them to fight on through defeat.

And they had been defeated. They may have acquired an artefact which could slay a god, but they’d lost one of their airships and a fourth of their crew. It wasn’t a day for celebration. Men and women had died, and it might only be the beginning of their casualties. The empire had thousands of soldiers and countless airships to put into battle against them.

“Will you be fine?” She asked Niaris, planted a kiss on her cheek, and squeezed her flesh. “I knew Furore was the goddess of love, but I didn’t know Dyella had been slain. If I had, I would have told you.”

“It was always the likeliest outcome…” Niaris whispered. “My heart should be in tatters, but it’s not. It beats for you and… our captain. I’m sorry, Gale. I didn’t intend to end up in the middle of you. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Please, don’t listen to my rambling.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Gale helped Niaris up on her feet, even though the demigod had to have sustained fewer injuries than her. Her arms had gotten scraped, bruised. She bled from a shallow wound somewhere on her leg, but Phoxene needed her to fulfill her role. “No one fits as well in the middle of us as you do, Niaris. No one.”

“Thank you.” Niaris rubbed her arm. “It’s a small comfort, today, but thank you. I should retreat somewhere I can be alone, a moment. Then heal—”

“Wait.” Gale squeezed her hand, forced herself to smirk. “I’m going to sing to cheer everyone up, and I know you don’t want to miss that. No one does. Didn’t you hear what Fate said? I’m her favoured mortal. And how good do you have to be to become the favoured mortal of a goddess that isn’t even the goddess of song?”

“How do you…” Niaris trailed off, smiled faintly, and nodded. “Go on then, sing for us, but it won’t resurrect the dead.”

“Worked for me, might work for them.”

She realized Niaris might not appreciate her current attitude, but if she lost her spirit, it would be the surest sign they were all damned. She didn’t have a stake in seeing Thotrix’s slain, other than her epic, but her lovers did.

And she wouldn’t leave them. She’d once told Phoxene she would sing the song she’d written for her on the Gustfin, and this seemed as good a moment as she would get during their journey. It might only get tougher from here on out.

“I’ll hold onto the dagger,” Phoxene said, stepped up to them, and attached Grinja to her belt. “Way I see it, you’re free to walk away, and never look back. I’m not.”

“You don’t need me anymore then?” Niaris asked.

“Not as a demigod, no, but… I’m not telling you to get off my ship.”

Phoxene and Niaris gazed into each other’s souls, half-naked since they’d had to rush out of the temple. Gale spotted a couple of the tattoos on Phoxene’s skin, the bite mark of her teeth. She would have been jealous of the lingering looks they heaped on each other, if it wasn’t for the fact that none of them had time for whatever pointless drama may arise from such a reaction.

“Excuse me, lovers, but in your vicinity I wish to declare us a trinity.” She improvised another rhyme. “Our sanguinity may not last into infinity, but I can thrive in your femininity.”

“Weren’t you about to sing to cheer everyone up?” Niaris asked. “Though I love your voice, Gale, there’re only two of us.”

“Three.” Phoxene crossed her arms, stared at her like she’d often during their first days together a decade ago. “Gale finds herself so entertaining.”

“Okay, okay…”

Nervousness bothered her for once, but when she burst into song, and Niaris joined in on her harp, it melted away like snow at the beginning of spring. Phoxene smiled, at first, while the majority of those who’d not been injured sat on the sides of their ships, listened to her sing, and hummed along.

She sang about their awkward meeting, their unpleasant conversations, and had to dance around to avoid Phoxene when she sang about their long night entwined in each other’s arms. She didn’t conceal details. No, no, she made herself into a gallant, valiant hero, and Phoxene a prominent, dominant queen.

Halfway through the song, she’d once included a declaration of loyalty to the royalty who’d stolen her heart, but on the spot, she changed that part to focus on Niaris and the prospect of the three of them together. A tear streaked across the demigod’s cheek.

Niaris wasn’t the only one who shed a tear, but Gale imagined the others wept because of the entrancing music of the harp. Not her silly song. Her playful, upbeat tune shouldn’t have meshed with Niaris’ marvelous music, but it did it so very well.

Even as the furious Phoxene got ahold of her, clamped a hand down on her horn, and dragged her below deck to cheers and applauds, she hoped they would stick together through decades.

A Diversion

Hours after the gods had showed up to scare them into submission, and Gale had embarrassed her, Phoxene stood in the stern of the Gustfin once more. The airship may not have sails, but it was still much easier to float it along the surface of the ocean than to lift it into the sky, even if it didn’t move very fast.

Her arms didn’t ache as bad, her shackles weren’t too loud. They clicked and whirred, like they always did, but she’d gotten used to that. While in the sky, she often worried everyone heard how they threatened to break her bones into splinters. They deafened her thoughts.

She kept a hand on the hilt of the dagger Grinja in her belt, as if it would up and vanish if she didn’t. If the god who’d landed on the deck of her ship, and spoken to them, had been Rhabour, she had to admit he’d looked nothing like she’d expected. Ever since Iorvil had mentioned his name, reminded her of her origin, she’d had a picture in her head of a berserker frothing at the mouth. Not a gryphon or a dragon.

Nonetheless, even with Rhabour’s help, it wouldn’t be a straightforward task to reach Thotrix. If they were lucky, they would find the god in the temple in Broken Shield, but the capital of the empire was massive.

If someone discovered them, and chances were they would, they wouldn’t get anywhere near the temple. They would get blasted out of the sky by airships in service of their enemy. Their best bet would be to create a distraction, somehow.

She’d had a plan months ago, but recent events had made her think of it as cruel. She should be willing to sacrifice everyone in her crew to accomplish the task set before them, but with each passing hour, she became less eager, less inclined, to do so. Particularly if she had to throw away Niaris and Gale.

Of course, it was ludicrous to think along such lines. She would sacrifice them, if necessary. Love could make no claim on her heart of stone. They may have swayed her to think differently, for a brief time, but she’d not changed who she was at her core.

She gripped the dagger in her belt, regretted how she thought of them as expendable. They should have chosen someone else to lead them. Someone who wouldn’t have thought of those under them as pawns. Someone who would sooner have died with their subordinates than forced them to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

They could sneak into Broken Shield, evade the airships of the empire, and head for Thotrix’s temple. Such a plan might work, if no one paid too much attention to them.

However, the airships they flew might be recognized by someone as stolen, and then the alarm would sound. She hated the incessant, piercing alarms Thotrix had placed in the streets of Broken Shield.

Losses

The empty bunks on the lowest deck were a depressing sight. The mortals who’d gone to sleep, in the other bunks, snored around her while she walked among them. Niaris had failed to save anyone except those who’d convinced her to surrender to their shared lusts.

If Dyella had been alive, she might have dumped her in an actual prison for her crimes. She’d sinned by the laws of the former goddess of love. In many ways, she’d become nothing more than another criminal, a prostitute, who couldn’t contain her desires.

Soon, she noticed how a couple of men watched her from their bunks like she was an intruder. She supposed she was. She had no reason to guard them while they slept, unless something had gone wrong. And then they probably thought they deserved to be told. She only disturbed them while she walked around on the creaking deck.

“Sorry,” she murmured, turned to leave, but stopped in her tracks. Since empty bunks were available, she may as well stay.

She lay down. Someone must have slept in this bunk once, at the start of their journey, but they wouldn’t need it again. She stretched out on the uncomfortable, hard mattress. Had its previous owner liked sleeping like this, or had they dreamt of fame and fortune of their own? Had they signed up with Phoxene because she paid them or because they believed in her cause?

Niaris ran her fingers along the holes in the mattress, inspected the weird leather straps attached to the sides, and wondered what it would have been like to be a crewmember on this journey. Did Phoxene provide meals to everyone’s satisfaction, or were they often forced to go hungry? What did they think of the Gustfin’s own personal entertainer, Gale?

Perhaps Niaris should have stayed in the realm of the unchained dead, since she’d not done a lot good for anyone other than herself since she’d left.

It wasn’t just that she would have disappointed Dyella. No, she’d failed to live up to her own ideals. She was a demigod. They were mortals. Sooner or later, both Phoxene and Gale would die, and what then? Did she plan to collect them from the afterlife over and over? The goddess of death would take offence to that, if she hadn’t already when Niaris had released Gale into Thylatserine.

Bloom

Gale sat alone in a chair on the edge of a long table in the dining hall. The first time she’d stepped foot on the Gustfin, she’d done it together with Hymn, and the airship had been a wreck. It hadn’t been seaworthy. The only reason it had been able to fly was because of Phoxene.

During the decade since then, Phoxene had repaired the Gustfin and bought new furniture and cannons. If they got into a scuffle with an airship of the empire, they might win. They would never have stood a chance before, but now, she had confidence in their abilities.

“Gale.” Sauft waved, stepped down the stairs. He had a bandage over his thick right arm, and his forehead, but he’d cleaned up well since she’d last seen him. He’d looked terribly bloody for a while after his run in with tentacles.

“Sauft.” She tapped her pen against her sheets of notes. “Shouldn’t you be on your own ship, or did we lose that too?”

“Funny,” Sauft said, approached, and pulled a chair out from the table to sit next to her. “No, we’ve not lost Little Shark, and you should pray we don’t. My ship won’t sink. It’ll blow up. If Kan had stored as much explosives on her ship, as I do, we’d have lost the entire fleet.”

“Ram it into Thotrix, might do wonders.”

He looked at the scribbles on the notes in front of her on the table, but they lost his interest when he couldn’t read her handwriting. “I’ve come to tell you our bet is off.”

“Our bet?”

“Yes, our bet. You said that if you could inspire your friendly pirates to join us, for free, I’d have to give you a gift worthy of their contributions.” He scratched his beard. “I’ve decided it shouldn’t go to you at all. Those pirates chose to sail with me, Gale, so you get nothing. I pay them. Not you.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugged, jotted down another scribble. She’d sort of forgotten she’d made the bet. “You know, if you’ve got the time, I have a suggestion for how you can repay me. That way, no one will lose face because they refused to fulfill their part of a lost bet.”

“How?”

“I’m writing an epic about this journey.” She smiled, gestured at her notes. “I have most of it in my head, most days, but it’s good to write some of it down too. Then I may not have to improvise new lines on the spot. And Phoxene may not have to spank me.”

He laughed. “No one taught me how to write, and I can’t read that well, but sure, whatever you say. How can I help?”

“I want to get to know you and the other captains better, so I can record you in history.” She pointed at him with the pen. “We can become famous together. It doesn’t have to be a lone venture for the favoured mortal of Fate.”

“I… I’d like to make a name for myself, but only after we’ve dealt with Thotrix. Till then, I’d prefer if everyone thought I’d died.” He leaned back in his chair until it seemed as if it would topple and send him into the wall. “Not much to tell either, about any of us. We may as well have been born slaves, because we don’t remember our pasts. None of us had tasted freedom before we met Phoxene.”

“I will write that and weave it into a solemn, heart-wrenching verse.” She flipped the page to scribble on the backside. “Keep talking, tell me your secrets, and I promise I won’t sing any of them to anyone before you’ve either killed Thotrix or literally died.”

“Guess it won’t harm the others to tell you about me at least.”

“Might keep me too busy to seek out Udfiol or Kan, and ask for their life stories.”

“Indeed.”

She nodded for him to go on. She’d not given up on fame, despite how the goddess of love had once explained to her how she couldn’t have both if she wished to live a fulfilling life. If she had to choose between the two, she worried she might make the wrong choice, but she wasn’t certain which was wrong and which was correct.

Family

Furore lingered in the clouds to watch the inhabitants of Caelora step out of their homes, investigate the legendary fruit trees she’d pulled out of their soil, and discuss the strange event. She saw Venviel and Hope exit the tavern, argue in whispers, and hug.

If Hope refused to eat the black apples, Venviel would surely sneak them into her food. She may be a young elf compared to Fayeth, but she wouldn’t want to watch her wife slip her arms either. Not if there was something she could do to stave off Hope’s death, and now, thanks to Furore, there was. They didn’t have to worship her. They only had to tell the truth to Rhabour and Fate, if they asked for proof of Furore’s deeds. She wouldn’t ask more of them. Not in this life.

To lull Hymn and Iorvil into a false sense of security, Furore waited a couple of days before she landed outside of their home. They’d moved out of the home Hope, Venviel, and Art shared to have a place of their own. She didn’t know when they’d moved, exactly, but she assumed it had happened after she’d given them the gift of a child.

It was a shame Hope and Hymn only had boys left without romantic partners, since it meant she might have to look elsewhere for girls. It would have been an honour to assist Gale, if she’d not died and left Furore to lament the loss of such a high-spirited lass.

She knocked on the door to Hymn and Iorvil’s home. Sure, she could have materialized right inside, but she’d scared Hymn enough. It hadn’t been funny for a while, even if it had been hilarious in the beginning. It had stopped being funny when Hymn had defected to the faith of another god.

She’d surrendered the half-demon with grace to Rhabour, but if she could have gone back, she might have made another choice. She might have made more of an effort to demonstrate to Hymn that she wasn’t as terrible as she thought.

“Who are you?” Hymn cracked the door to their home, peeked outside, but didn’t open it. “Do I know you? If you’ve gotten lost, The Amiciers’ Rest is down the street to the left, on top of the cliffs. Can’t miss it.”

“You do know me,” Furore said and lifted her hand to shed her disguise but paused. Hymn glared at her, held something hidden out of view behind the wall. “But I’m not here to do you, or your loved ones, harm. I’ve come to ask for… a favour.”

“A favour?” Hymn repeated. “Hope, my mother, is the charitable monster around these parts. Not I. You’ve got the wrong house, if you think I’d be able to help. Happens all the time though, so no worries. Good night.”

Furore put her hand on the door and prevented Hymn from shutting it, even though she kicked her knee into the wood. “Hymn, I’m not here for Hope. I checked in on her earlier. I wish to ensure you’re doing fine… without me.” She dropped her disguise. Hymn couldn’t hurt her anyway.

“How many times do I have to beg you to leave me alone?” Hymn recoiled. “I hate you, goddess of love. Demon. You deserve every torture imaginable in the world and the realms.”

“I did give you a son.” Furore pursed her lips. “You could thank me for that.”

“And yet, we both know I won’t, so get lost. Don’t come around here.”

Hymn threw her weight on the door to shut it in her face, but Furore remained a goddess. Something mortals liked to forget a little too often. Hymn could have been as large and strong as Iorvil, and the door wouldn’t have shut unless Furore allowed it to.

“Listen, Hymn, I’ve come to ask you for forgiveness. I lied when I mentioned a favour. You don’t have to do anything for me, ever again, unless it’s by your own free will. And then I probably won’t notice anyway.” She chuckled, but sighed when Hymn kicked and kicked the door. “I’m not going to enter your home. Calm down, you’ll wake everyone. Tell me what I can do for you, and I’ll do my best to make it happen.”

“You can tell me why the bond with my twin won’t fade, even though she’s been dead for a decade!” Hymn shouted and peeked out of the crack between the door and its frame. “I keep seeing her face. At first, it was only once every few years, but lately, even as recently as yesterday, I saw her. The golden goddess who killed her by dropping us into that city was there too. She winked at Gale. Why would you send such a sick and twisted vision to me? Why would you make me hear her singing…“

Furore bared her fangs, snarled, but not at Hymn. No. If anything, Hymn had done her a favour like she’d asked, even if she’d done it by accident.

“I didn’t. I’m not that interested in you or her, but…” Furore hadn’t seen Fate in days. Rhabour had kept her whereabouts secret. In the time they’d been apart, she could have accomplished a lot. If she’d wanted, Fate could have resurrected a mortal she’d been a little too fond of. “Fate was. She liked your twin. You should blame her for these visions.”

“I’ll blame you because you disgust me!”

“Okay…” Furore rolled her eyes. “You’re being difficult, Hymn, stupid, and you’re missing out on a once in a lifetime opportunity. Do you think I’ll come around again, sometime in the future, and beg for you to tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness? I won’t. I’ll leave this gap between us to fester until you die, and you’ll receive nothing. Ever.”

“Is…” Hymn opened the door, a bit. “Is Gale alive?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I may have been mistaken. Tricked.” Furore balled her hand into a fist against the door. She couldn’t wait to meet Fate again, soon. “Lied to, because that’s what liars do. They lie.”

“If Gale is alive, I need you to find her, and help her. Leave me alone, but if she’s alive, you help her. No matter what she asks of you. Then, and only then, will I forgive you!” Hymn stomped her foot.

“Should I bring her back after I’ve volunteered to work as her maid?”

“Only if that’s what she wants.” Hymn slammed the door shut as Furore removed her hand.

She’d no clue where Gale may have ended up, if she was alive again, but she’d located Fayeth and Leyla through their dreams. She could locate Gale using the same method. And if Fate had aligned herself with the lost twin, she would find her too. She didn’t need Rhabour to reveal where the traitor hid.

Broken Shield

“We’ll sneak into the capital. As long as no one boards our airship, we should be fine until we arrive at the temple. No reason to panic,” Phoxene muttered, winced in pain, and watched Little Shark and The Disgrace rise out of the ocean. “We’ll sneak into the—“

“You’ve said that ten times, doll.” Gale squeezed her right shoulder. “Are you sure there’s no reason to panic? Should I run around screaming for a bit before we leap to show everyone what not to do, in case someone didn’t hear?”

“We’re right here, Phoxene.” Niaris stood behind her on the other side, caressed her back, and patted her left shoulder. “We won’t leave. We’ll see this through to the end.”

“Thank you.” She fought to contain the pain surging through her arms. The shackles of Thotrix sparked and crackled. Niaris massaged her upper arm. If they did kill the god of inventions, they may not have an escape route.

Kan saluted her from the deck of The Disgrace, donned the most serious expression she’d seen on her face, and Udfiol leapt their airship across vast swaths of space. A green bauble hovered midair where their ship had been, but it too soon vanished.

“Let’s hurry,” Gale said. “I’m ready to kill more empire soldiers for what they’ve done to the people of my friends. I’m ready to die.”

“Again?” Niaris shook her head, yet a dumb smile played across her lips while the snakes danced through the winds.

“After you captain!” Sauft shouted from Little Shark.

“But don’t delay too long.” Gale smirked.

“We’ll sneak into the capital, no funny business, no loud noises.” Phoxene took a deep breath, leaned into the power inherent in her shackles. “We’re ghosts in the night.”

The ship lurched.

Gale and Niaris held on tight, pressed their bodies up against hers, and whispered inaudible words in comforting tones.

The ship jumped.

They re-emerged in the sky above the outskirts of Broken Shield. The Disgrace awaited their arrival, and Little Shark appeared seconds after they’d entered the capital of Thotrix’s empire. Yet something was different since she’d last set foot in the city. Her instincts told her they’d been discovered, immediately, because dozens of airships hovered in the air above the homes stacked upon each other.

The airships should be docked. The empire’s generals wouldn’t waste the energy of their machines on joyrides in the sky over Broken Shield. They might plan social excursions, but even then, they left the capital. The city of brass was an ugly, organized box no one found appealing, even though wild rivers ran through it.

“They’re sounding the alarms?” Gale stepped over to the railing, looked down at the streets far below, and put her hand to her ear. “We only arrived.”

Phoxene focused and listened for the familiar sounds of horns, which the empire used to inform its generals where their troops were during an attack, but she didn’t detect those. She heard Thotrix’s incessant mechanical alarms. Ring and ring and ring.

One of the airships that belonged to the empire opened fire on another, unprovoked, and the sky erupted into anarchy. The night flared with cannons. The enemy airships fired volleys after volley at each other. Everything boomed.

Two airships crashed into the streets and buildings of Broken Shield. She wouldn’t have cared if she’d not known that it spelled the death of two dolls. Her people.

“Civil war…?” Niaris though out loud.

“So much for sneaking,” Gale said. “They’ll open fire on us if we don’t show what side we’re on.”

Phoxene suspected Gale was correct. If they didn’t fly the flag of one side in this conflict, they would be attacked by the other. And since they didn’t know enough to conceal themselves among the enemy’s ranks, cannons would fire on them.

She had to think of another plan, quick, because her original scheme to sneak through the sky to the temple had failed. At least it had failed without them revealing themselves as would-be assassins.

“Orders, captain!” Udfiol shouted.

They could skirt around the city, and try to get closer to Thotrix’s temple, even if it was situated on a hill in the middle of Broken Shield. But it would take too long, and make them far too vulnerable, too open to discovery. Someone would notice their strange course, if they weren’t all too busy fighting their own.

The airships embroiled in civil war were far enough apart that they might be able to cut straight through the middle, and high enough to fly under. They were the only obstacle between them and Thotrix’s temple of metal. It would be risky.

“We’re going through! Stay low, fly fast! We are that fucking skilled!” She threw her arms forward, so the Gustfin dove toward the roofs of the buildings, the towers spewing out smoke, and everyone had to brace lest they fall to their deaths. “Man the cannons!”

Little Shark and The Disgrace dove after her.

She pulled her arms backward and made the Gustfin fly straight. The warriors on the top deck hurried down below.

“More will die because of this choice…” Niaris removed her hands from her.

“I know.”

“You’re crazy.”

Her first instinct was to laugh, but instead she sighed, nodded. “I know.”

The airships of their enemy got closer and closer, and they would soon cross underneath them. But if Niaris thought mere words could encourage her to alter course, she was mistaken. If she aimed to succeed, she had to rely on herself, and think of the rest as useful tools.

Love could make no claim on her, not here, not now. Adrenaline rushed through her, numbed the agony in her bones, and glued her eyes to the possible paths between them and the temple. She’d waited for this since the day they’d carved out the flesh in her arms and drilled in the shackles. Thotrix had given her the weapons she would use against the god. They ought to watch out for lightning, not the cannons of their enemy.

Dangerous

Thotrix may have gotten angry from time to time and scared Dyella, but Niaris had never believed the god would construct such a huge city of metal. They’d seemed fonder of forests, streams, and mountains. They’d even chosen a form for themself crafted out of wood.

What had happened to Thotrix while she’d been gone?

Phoxene raced the Gustfin so close to the buildings that they might never reach the temple, so she could find out. Iron beams and wooden planks scratched the hull of the airship. The conflict escalated overhead.

Airships burnt, cannons thundered. Cannonballs that didn’t hit their intended targets fell around them, tore through buildings, and swore to destroy their fleet by mistake if they didn’t pick another route.

Five enemy ships dove after them, fired wildly in their direction, and missed. They’d not aimed very well, but they’d still hit anyone unlucky enough below them on the streets. If she made no attempt to force Phoxene to reconsider, and retreat, dozens of mortals would die on both sides. Surely, their captain couldn’t be so heartless that she didn’t care about innocents. Not everyone in Broken Shield was their enemy. They only needed to kill Thotrix and leave the humans to pick up the pieces.

“Phoxene.” Niaris grabbed her arm, but shied away when the woman snarled at her. Little Shark and The Disgrace might get blasted out of the air at any second, because they weren’t as fast, as insanely driven, as the Gustfin. “Retreat, please. If we make it to the temple, we won’t last long. Thotrix will know we’ve arrived.”

“You’re free to walk away, never look back,” Phoxene said. “I’m not. I will see this through to the end.”

“I-I can’t allow you to cause the deaths of innocents.” Niaris glanced at the glass dagger in Phoxene’s belt and reached out to grab it. Without the artefact, the captain would only be mortal.

Phoxene noticed her hand, threw her arms to the side, so the Gustfin jerked and crashed through the side of the building on their left. The ring spinning around the airship seemed to slow. Niaris fell to her knees.

The hull sustained considerable damage while the airship slid along the side of the building, shattered windows, and tore up the facade. People screamed from the deck below.

Niaris gritted her teeth, the snakes hissed at Phoxene, prepared to bite. If the captain refused to listen, despite how she’d lived much longer, despite how she was a demigod, she could show her a worse side of herself. She no longer had to obey anyone.

“She has a point!” Gale shouted, clung to the railing. “Phoxene! We’re going to crash if you don’t pull up.”

“If we do, they’ll shoot us down.”

The five airships who’d given chase were closing in on them, but the crew of Little Shark did their best to hold them at bay. They dumped barrels that exploded over their stern and forced their enemy to navigate recklessly, dip, dive, rise, or get caught in their radius.

Two of the airships caught on fire because of Sauft’s tactic, slowed down to put the flames out.

“Phoxene, I’m warning you.” Niaris pushed the awful sentence through her lips. She didn’t want to hurt the captain, but she was a danger to everyone. Herself, included. And if she’d known they would end up in the middle of war, she wouldn’t have joined them. “Retreat, find another route, or I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Phoxene freed the dagger from her belt. “You think it’s ineffective on demigods? Are you brave enough, Niaris?”`

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me…“

“Stop bickering or—“

Gale’s voice was cut short by a wooden plank jutting out of a building. Her head and horns crashed through it, sent splinters flying.

The impact knocked her out, the singer fell limp to the deck of the Gustfin. Niaris was at her side faster than she’d known she could move, held her in her arms, and prevented her from falling to her death. She might not awaken again anyway, like so many others.

How was she supposed to think she did the right thing in Phoxene’s presence? Dyella had taught her the value of mortal lives, and how they were all equal. She shouldn’t even consider using her powers to save Gale, twice, yet she did. She always would.

Hundreds might die during their run-in with the enemy airships, and the civil war, yet her heart only cried out for her lovers. Why couldn’t Phoxene stop? Why couldn’t she be better than this?

Dream of Mirrors

Gale woke with an intense headache, as if her skull had split in half in the middle of her forehead. She no longer stood on top of the Gustfin while madness claimed Phoxene and the captain flew them straight through a battle just so she could reach the temple faster.

They hadn’t even had proof that Thotrix was in their temple, or if they would have to go somewhere else to confront the god. No, Phoxene had made assumptions, and it might have gotten her killed again.

“Greetings, tiny.” Furore came into view, lowered her massive face in front of her, and bared giant fangs. “Not so dead, eh?”

Gale realized she lay in the middle of Furore’s palm, on top of her purple skin, so either she was in a dream, or the goddess of love had decided to intimidate her in person. A black void blotted out the rest of reality, hid the majority of Furore’s figure, but the goddess could have caused that too.

“I’m not,” she said.

“Would you like to tell me what’s happened since we last met, or would you like me to skip ahead? I can help you.” Furore giggled, exhaled on her body, and made her slide backwards along her palm. “Your twin misses you greatly, and even though I offered to fulfill any wish she might have, any wish in the world, she relinquished her claim on my offer and handed it to you.”

“I guess she owes me after I gave my life for...” Gale trailed off. Hymn owed her nothing. She was relieved to know her twin had survived this long, in spite of the goddess that seemed to resent her. “I’m the favoured mortal of Fate, now, so I don’t think she would—“

Furore scoffed. “Chasing fame to this day, are you? If you tell me where I can find Fate, I will reward you twice, Gale. Oh, there’s so much I can do for you.” Furore lowered her hand, until her impressive bosom and silk dress came into view. “So much fun we could have.”

“I’m flattered, but…”

Even though it felt proper to refuse to stare at Furore’s neckline, or curves, since she’d kind of developed a crush on Phoxene and Niaris, she couldn’t help it. When the goddess had made her tiny, she’d made herself so big in turn. Gale had never even seen a statue of such size before.

“Could you call Fate for me?”

“I suppose I could, but I shouldn’t. We need her on our side.”

“We?”

She remembered what Rhabour had said about the perpetrator of chaos. She shouldn’t tell Furore everything, if he’d meant the goddess of love.

Hymn had given her wish to her. Gale had an idea for how to use it, but if she betrayed Fate, helped Furore find her, the goddess of destiny might retrieve Grinja, and then they wouldn’t stand a chance against Thotrix.

“I know what I want from Hymn’s wish.”

“Fame?”

“No.” She shook her head, furrowed her brow. “Wait, you could have given me—“

“Possibly.” Furore shrugged. “My kind of fame wouldn’t have been what Fate would have given you, but it would have been pleasurable. Exciting. You could have had your own harem.”

“Oh my, that’s…” Gale pinched herself, focused, before Furore tempted and distracted her too long for her wish to be of use. “With my wish, I ask that you bring Thotrix to their temple in Broken Shield and keep them there until we’ve done what we set out to do. You’ll know when we’ve succeeded.”

Furore shivered in pleasure, simpered, and burst out laughing. “To war then? And I get to play the part of the delectable distraction? The little concubine who’s too airheaded to be a threat? I love the way you think, Gale. We would have made fine friends.”

“I’ve chosen Fate.”

“And more…” Furore dropped her into her dress, between her breasts. Gale ended up trapped in a place she’d never dared dream to visit. The goddess’ chest rose and fell as she breathed. “I’ll fulfill your wish. Now, if you could only scratch me where it itches, and tell me where to find Fate, I’ll grant you a second wish.”

Gale had to shut her eyes to not do something inappropriate, yet even then, Furore’s soft skin moved against her, squeezed her, and reminded her where she found herself.

“I’d like to wake up now.”

“Do that then,” Furore said. “I’m not stopping you. I’m not helping you either, because you’ve not scratched my itch yet.”

Phoxene and Niaris waited for her to return to them. To help them kill a god and go down in history.

She could choose them, become famous, and she wouldn’t miss out on anything, except romantic encounters with massive goddesses and hundreds of mortals. They wouldn’t accept her if she cheated on them with a god. Phoxene might kill her if she learnt the truth, Niaris would cast her out of her sunlight.

“Will you help me find Fate?” Furore asked, put the tip of her finger on top of her head, and pushed her further down her dress. “Swear you will, and I’ll entertain you for a while, in this dream, in this shape.”

“I…” She shut her eyes, pinched her arms hard enough to forget the soft, bare skin of a goddess around her, and awakened with a start with her face pressed against Niaris’ figure. “Gods, thank you, thank you. I couldn’t have resisted that. My willpower is not impressive, honestly.”

“What?” Niaris asked, the snakes welcomed her back to reality by slithering across her horns. “Are you hurt, Gale? You’ve not been out long, but I’m worried you might die if you’re hallucinating.”

“My skull is…” She stroked her forehead, but she shouldn’t have. The headache returned. “My skull is thick, thanks to my horns. I probably won’t die.”

“We need to stop Phoxene. She’s lost her mind, I hope,” Niaris whispered. “I’d like to think she wasn’t always like this.”

The wind whistled around them, people screamed, and cannons thundered through the night. Lightning crawled between clouds in the sky. If Furore planned to help, they couldn’t stop. They had to reach the temple, no matter the cost. Phoxene wasn’t mad. She understood the price everyone would have to pay if they didn’t put an end to Thotrix. More would suffer if the god remained alive.

“We need to get to the temple.” Gale kissed Niaris, caressed her cheeks. “Trust me. It’s our best chance.”

“Your… your success might come at too high a price for me, Gale.” Niaris frowned. “Mortals are dying.”

“You can’t save them all, but we can make their sacrifice count.”

“This isn’t how I imagined our time together.” Niaris hugged her. “I’m scared I’ll lose who I am.”

“You’ll become someone new, someone wiser and stronger. Unlike me.”

Ruthless

They could hug and whisper to each other all they wanted. Phoxene didn’t care, not if she had to think of them as expendable.

The ring around the Gustfin, which kept them in the air, had been damaged when she’d thrown the airship into the side of a building. She’d intended to make Niaris stumble, but she’d underestimated her own power. She would never have damaged her own ship on purpose. Not when she needed it to reach the temple.

A bolt of lightning struck Little Shark. The airship exploded in a heated blast which sent debris through the air and brought one of their pursuers down with it. She doubted Sauft and his crew had survived, but even though she regretted losing them, she had to push on. The Gustfin had taken too much damage to stay in the sky. She knew it.

When she tapped into the power in her shackles, she tapped into the ring that spun around her ship as well, and without it to keep them in the air, it didn’t matter whether she broke her bones or not trying to keep them afloat. Sooner or later, the Gustfin would crash.

“Seems I’m on my own, Sauft,” she mumbled, reminded herself of the truth of her life.

If she gave them the opportunity, Niaris and Gale would turn on her again. They would tell her to retreat, and return another day, yet she’d no intention to do so. She would crash-land as close to the temple as possible, at the bottom of the hill if she couldn’t ram the airship into its slope, and run straight up to Thotrix.

If that was what the gods required from her to grant her a single victory in life, she wouldn’t hesitate or let the agony in her arms slow her steps. No.

The Disgrace ascended, pursued by the last two airships which had decided to chase them, while the Gustfin descended because she failed to lift it. She’d brought them this close. If she could have, she would have tossed Grinja to Kan or Udfiol. They’d done much better than her. They’d not given in to rage or stuffed their holds full of explosives like Saufnein.

“Why aren’t we going up?” Niaris asked. “What’s happening, Phoxene?”

“It’s your fault, demigod. Aren’t you proud of yourself?” Phoxene said, but while it may feel good to blame it all on Niaris, she shouldn’t have lost her cool. She shouldn’t have gotten so attached to either of them that they could get under her skin. Even when she met individuals who might choose to love her for who she was, they proved they were liabilities. She should have predicted the result. “We’re going to crash on the hill, and run for it.”

“What!” Gale exclaimed. “That’ll alert everyone to our arrival. That’s not remotely discreet, we need to be sneaky.”

“Well, we—“

“Retreat, Phoxene! Jump out of the city!” Niaris got to her feet.

She walked away from the stern to avoid the demigod. She could jump them out of Broken Shield, she had the strength, and the ring hadn’t failed yet. But she wouldn’t. If she did, Kan and Udfiol would find themselves without the artefact to kill Thotrix. They might not notice that she’d retreated, and they would think she’d abandoned them to die.

“I won’t.” She righted the ship, aimed for the hill, and spun around to face Niaris. She couldn’t see where they were headed, since she didn’t look, but it didn’t make a difference. They would crash. Hopefully, they’d survive. If not, she’d at least done everything within her means to succeed. “You’re free to leave, Niaris, Gale. Jump for it. If you’re as immortal as you claim, you’ll survive with her. I’m not backing down. I can’t.”

Niaris unrolled the sleeves of her robe, revealed her perfect muscles, and rushed at her. Phoxene focused on keeping the course she’d chosen, while Niaris tackled and wrestled her to the deck of the airship.

“I would have done anything for you, but you’re completely mad with these!”

Phoxene tried to get a glimpse of the hill. Niaris touched the machines drilled into her flesh, shoved her fingers between the cogs, and used her divine essence on them.

She lost her bond to the Gustfin. Her arms went numb, as if she’d somehow deactivated Thotrix’s inventions herself, and they descended even faster.

If a taste of Thotrix’s power had driven her mad, love had destroyed Niaris’ mind. She would never pretend to love anyone again, or show them her honest self. They had to remain tools, eager servants, or she would have nothing left.

Impact

Niaris attempted to take control of the inventions in Phoxene’s arms herself, but whatever divine energy could be accessed through them by the mortal vanished the moment she imbued their brass design with her own divinity. Thotrix must have built in a failsafe, so no other god than they could tamper with the shackles.

Even though she might have preferred to save anyone else than Phoxene aboard the Gustfin, she didn’t have the time. She hugged the crazy woman who squirmed underneath her, shielded her with her immortal form, and prayed Gale’s luck would keep her alive.

The airship plowed into a building, crashed through it, and emerged on the other side. It ended up stuck, hung between two homes in opposite buildings of the street, and teetered on metallic beams. If the crew didn’t disembark, they might fall with the airship when it fell.

“Do you care more about her than me, or am I imagining that…” Gale spat blood on the deck, wiped her mouth on her forearm, and offered her a hand. “Seems like you could have helped me, a couple of times now, and chose her.”

“I shouldn’t have…” Niaris bit her tongue, waved Gale’s hand away, and rose to her feet. She shouldn’t have saved either of them, not while innocents died. If she’d left these criminals earlier, she might have done more good in the world.

Even the warriors Phoxene had hired didn’t deserve to die. They may have known they’d signed up for war, battle, but she doubted they’d been aware of how little their captain cared for their survival.

She headed for the stairs to the deck below, while Gale assisted Phoxene. Gale was either too dumb, or too blind, to see how little their captain cared for anyone, if they got in the way of her self-appointed quest. Anyone could have killed Thotrix. Anyone. It didn’t have to be Phoxene.

They could have sought out Thotrix’s enemies, begged other gods for assistance, but no, they had to do everything themselves. Phoxene was crazy. Gale followed her along in the hopes she’d stomp on her, and it would feel nice for once compared to the other hundred times when it probably only hurt.

If Niaris wanted to help mortals, she may have to forget those two. It would be difficult, after everything she’d lost and regained in their company, but she must try. She had to accept that Phoxene and Gale would get themselves killed and distance herself before it happened. Or mourn them, and cry over nothing.

If she’d died, Gale would have joked about it while Phoxene wouldn’t even have blinked. The best she could do was to make sure they didn’t get others killed in the process of their own deaths, and even then, she may have to strive for the lowest amount of casualties. Not zero.

She entered the dining hall. Warriors bled on the wood of the deck, clung to the cannons. The left side of the hull had been torn open, and those who’d stood on that side of the airship had simply perished in the collision.

She averted her gaze from the death on display, searched for someone she could help. At least the hole in the left side of the ship would make it easier for everyone to disembark. Still, the suffering made her miserable. Her snakes tried to comfort her by hissing in her ears, yet she would need a lot more than their pleasant hissing to cheer up again.

The Gustfin rumbled as if Phoxene had reclaimed control of her inventions.

“Everyone who can walk help me carry those who can’t!” She shouted. “Disembark, off the ship.”

Men and women glared at her, but while they moved to leave the airship through the hole in the hull, few of them stopped to help their wounded or dead. It almost made her think they couldn’t understand the words she spoke. Then again, perhaps they were too much like Phoxene. Perhaps they cared less about each other than they cared about the coin they’d been promised.

She supported a man with a broken leg by slinging his arm over her shoulders, guided him over to the hole opening up into someone’s home, and returned to fetch more wounded. Few helped her. If Phoxene’s attitude was common among mortals these days, she might prefer to return to the realm of unchained dead.

Renegade

They’d lost Little Shark and Saufnein while The Disgrace, Kan, and Udfiol proceeded toward the temple on their own. Niaris and Phoxene argued like two cats murdering each other over the last fish. She might have an easier life if she chose fame, since she could avoid quarrels altogether.

“Do you want my help?” Gale asked, once Niaris disappeared below deck. “Or should I not bother?”

“If you’d not brought her with you, Gale, none of this would have happened,” Phoxene said, took her hand, pulled herself to her feet, and nearly caused Gale to topple due to her size. “I would have gotten to the temple, confronted Thotrix, and—“

“I’m getting sick of your attitude, Phoxene.” Gale brushed her hand on her shirt. “All I’ve done is try to help you, stick by you, and bent over whenever you’ve seemed like you needed someone to punish to make yourself feel better. I think it’s given you the wrong idea about us.”

“Leave then, Gale. Go with her.” Phoxene prodded at the cogs in her arms which had ceased clicking and whirring after Niaris had touched them. “What gave you the idea I need you? I need no one, especially not you.”

“I’m the only one you have left…”

Gale ought to stand up for herself like Niaris had done, but she’d been killed in Broken Shield once, ten years ago, and Phoxene knew how to navigate the city well enough to escape. If she could avoid the three of them falling out, and never wanting to talk with each other again, it might be worth a shot.

Phoxene was by no means easy to love, but if love could be a choice, she supposed she chose to stand with her. If she didn’t help Phoxene reach the temple with Grinja, she would have wasted Hymn’s wish anyway.

“I’ll make it on my own, Gale.” Phoxene threw her arms forwards. The Gustfin shook, but it didn’t lift. “Go with Niaris, if you wish to be admired, pampered, and loved. Don’t expect me to change.”

“I came with you in the beginning because I thought I could make everyone famous, together.” Gale sighed, tasted blood on her tongue. She’d taken too many hits to the head. “I’m coming with you, again, for the same reason. Maybe I hope for more, if there’s a future for any of us, but there might not be.”

“Off we go then.” Phoxene checked that she still had Grinja in her belt, strode across the deck, and dropped into the building that the act of the Gustfin had crashed through. “Forget Niaris.”

“I…” Gale glanced at the stairs to the deck below, prayed for Fate to watch over Niaris, and followed her giant.

She wouldn’t have to act as a mediator between her bickering partners, if she chose fame. She wouldn’t have to strive to avoid hardship and heartbreak, if every day of her life was a new adventure with someone she’d never met. Phoxene and Niaris spelled trouble.

Wrong Party

Phoxene hurried through a home filled with couches, armchairs, and jumped down staircases. Gale chased after her as fast as her shorter legs allowed. They might have to find a place to hide, in case soldiers appeared to investigate the crashed Gustfin.

She despised Niaris for how she’d ruined her arms, and how she may never fly again. Yet she soon got a new problem to worry about, as she threw open a door at the end of a corridor and barged in on a group of soldiers lead by an older, scruffier man in a general’s brass-adorned uniform.

Three giants stood at the opposite wall, with their arms behind their backs, dressed in gowns, yet she knew they were machines. Her people. She heard their shackles click in unison. They’d had no reason to hang around with a general if they weren’t loyal to the empire.

“State your business,” the general said, rose from his seat by a small, round table, and gestured at someone behind the door. “Or we’ll assume you’re the enemy.”

The ten soldiers seemed ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, and since they wore regular uniforms, in red and blue, they wouldn’t be slowed by clunky armours. They’d catch her. The general had given her a chance to explain herself. She might as well.

“Apologies, general, deeply sorry, I got split up with my master during the battle. I fear he may have died, but I did catch this…” Phoxene grabbed Gale by one of her horns, yanked her in front of herself. If the group wouldn’t have heard every word she said, she might have apologized to Gale. The singer may have her undeniable charm, boundless energy, but none of those made her invaluable. “Weird-looking creature, while she tried to run. I hope that will suffice to prove my loyalty to the empire. Or I’ll happily accept any punishment. Any. Again, I apologize for failing to remain at my master’s side. I would have given my life for him.”

Gale’s green skin and horns took the general by surprise, but he didn’t smile at her declaration of loyalty. He twirled his moustache, nodded towards whoever stood behind the door, and stepped up to offer his hand to Gale.

“Are you an enemy of the empire then?” He smiled, amused at how Gale refused to shake his hand. “And Thotrix?”

“You… you better believe I am, if this is how you treat guests.” Gale’s voice cracked, she sounded furious and heartbroken. Her shoulders trembled. “Even if I’m alone in that now.”

“No.” The general guffawed. “No, the empire has a lot of enemies, even within its own ranks. My name is Augustus, but you can call me August.” He made another gesture toward the person behind the door. “Seize her.”

Phoxene stepped away, so she wouldn’t have to watch them force Gale down on the ground, restrain her, and tie her up with ropes. It was enough to know that she’d escaped an accidental encounter with the enemy. That she’d lived to tell the tale. Pointless grief didn’t have to accompany her to the temple.

She didn’t get far, since she bumped into someone who’d snuck up behind her in the corridor. They grabbed and twisted her arms into her back, kicked her forward into the room. She landed in the middle of a maroon, checkered carpet while Gale watched, confused.

Her lover’s confusion was nothing in comparison to her own when she noticed the forearms of the man who’d kicked her into the room. They were a machine, with shackles, and the three other machines rushed to assist him in restraining her.

She didn’t possess the strength to fight four of her own people. They pushed her down into the carpet, tied her arms and legs with rope, and patted her down in search of weapons.

“Does the dagger in her belt belong to you?” Augustus asked Gale, pulled a chair out from his table, and nodded for her to sit. “It doesn’t look like anything the empire would craft, namely.”

Gale looked at Phoxene, grinned. “No matter what she tells you, she stole it from me. She said I’d be a gift to the empire. Her masters would enjoy using me for my body, she’d love to watch.”

“A filthy lie!” Phoxene roared. One of the machines spit on her, another punched her in the ribs. “Goddammit! I’m not loyal to the empire. You have to listen—“

“Gag her, bring our guest the dagger.” Augustus said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Someone forced her jaw open, shoved a piece of cloth that tasted like oil into her mouth, and stole the dagger she needed to slay Thotrix.

“What’s your name?” Augustus asked Gale, sat back down in his seat. “I’ve never seen anyone quite like you, if I may be so bold as to bring your appearance to light. Nonetheless, if the last years have taught me anything, it’s that you can make an ally of anyone. And our side is light on manpower.”

“It’s Gale.” Gale sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her, glanced around the room, and smirked. She nodded politely as they brought her Grinja and attached the dagger to her belt.

A number of bookcases lined the wall on the side of the room Phoxene could see while they kept her tied up and unable to move, but she didn’t know what Gale could see on the other side. It might be a whole army of rebels ready to cut her to pieces, before she got a chance to declare her loyalty to the wrong side again. She’d never hated anyone like she hated Gale when the daft girl smiled at her.

“What brings you to the empire, Gale?” Augustus poured her a cup of tea. “You’re clearly not from around these parts.”

“I’m an… historian,” Gale said, like anyone would believe that. She was a second-rate singer and an even worse lute player. “I wanted to record an epic of the people of the world, so when I learned of your culture, I had to visit. I didn’t think you’d be so hostile to newcomers, but you learn a new lesson every day. I’d love to see the temple, if possible.”

“We could arrange an escort, but as you may have noticed.” Augustus pointed up toward the ceiling, the thunder of cannons resounded in the sky. “Now’s not the time for trips. We were about to pack up and head down into the cellars.”

“I could go with you then.”

“What do you suggest we do with your captor?” Augustus donned a solemn expression. “If we had more time, we’d reeducate her. Teach her she’s been a slave, show her the errors of her ways, but we’re a bit busy.”

“I’m sure whatever you do with her will be fitting.” Gale stared straight into Phoxene’s soul, revealed her teeth in a subtle half-grin. “She obviously doesn’t care about me, so I find it difficult to care about her. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do, I do…” Augustus sighed. “We’ll think of something. We may have to leave her, since she’s a problem. It’s much easier for us to move around if everyone in the group pretends to be members of the empire. I doubt she’d even be open to the idea, we can’t risk exposure.”

“What a shame.” Gale pursed her lips, shook her head. “At least she looks like she’s reconsidering her choices in life.”

“If she’s smart, she is,” one of the machines said.

Phoxene screamed into the gag in her mouth, swallowed its vile taste. She would kill Gale, as soon as she’d escaped her restraints. She would make it a priority to beat her into permanent submission.

Gale could not do this to her. It was neither just nor fair. And it wasted their time. If Gale told these rebels the truth, they would untie her, remove the gag, and she could explain herself. They were on the same side, for crying out loud.

The daft girl deserved whatever punishment Phoxene would think of. She’d stolen everything from her, because the opportunity had presented itself. What a fine example she set for love. Truly, she ought to be that goddess’s champion.

Renewal

Niaris stepped through the hole in the hull, laid the injured woman she’d retrieved from the Gustfin down on the exquisite emerald carpet on the floor, and inspected the bleeding wound in her hip. Phoxene’s warriors had remained suspicious of her, but at least they’d started helping her with their wounded.

The Gustfin hadn’t fallen to the street below yet, even though powerful gusts tore at it and promised to bring it down, if the cannonballs raining out of the sky didn’t wreck it first.

Phoxene and Gale had disappeared into the building on the other side of the street. Neither of them had bothered to stick around to assist. Apparently, they had to rush everywhere, and in their rush, they’d forgotten to pretend like they wanted her with them.

“Dun’ let me die,” the raven-haired warrior begged, took Niaris hands in hers, and revealed the fear inside through her green eyes. “Them gods hate me.”

“I’ll heal you, I promise,” Niaris said. “And I don’t hate you, either. What’s your name?”

“Yaya,” she said, shut her eyes, and smiled. “Too kind.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Niaris blushed as she noticed how every warrior watched her, even if a couple of them tried to hide it. They probably hadn’t gotten used to the fact that she had living snakes for hair yet, but perhaps they would if they got to know her.

She may have made a mistake while she’d healed Gale’s right hand, but she’d promised to heal Yaya, and not let her die, so she leaned into the divine essence she’d inherited from Dyella and poured it into the mortal. Yaya’s wound begun to close and heal without discolouring the skin, or taking on strange characteristics.

If she met Gale again, she would offer to make a new attempt to heal her hand. Yaya would survive, even if she was weak at the moment. They found themselves behind enemy lines, sure, but if they surrendered, they should be allowed to live.

What country couldn’t find a use for mercenaries? Niaris would argue on behalf of these mortals. She might even offer to use her powers in service of the empire, if they agreed to spare her friends.

The thunder of cannons echoed nearer. She ducked by instinct and had to remind herself that she stood in the middle of a war. The fleets in the sky had merely fired on each other. They wouldn’t stop until one side had achieved victory.

She would have loved to have been correct in that assumption, but the very next moment, a projectile almost hit her in the head. She didn’t manage to shield anyone as a barrage of cannonballs destroyed the Gustfin, the building, and annihilated Yaya and the rest of the warriors.

Niaris fell through the floorboards that collapsed under her, crashed through the next floor, and the next, and ended up on her stomach on top of a broken table covered by rubble. Bodies fell around her with sickening crunches, their bones broke in the impact.

She didn’t lift her gaze to see what had happened to the mortals. She knew no one would have survived the onslaught of the airships’ cannons. If Dyella had been around to reprimand her, she wouldn’t even have bothered. She would have extinguished her life, accepted Niaris’ creation as a mistake, and drawn up plans for a new demigod.

She shouldn’t have gotten involved with mortals. At least when she’d lingered among the unchained dead, she’d not caused anyone’s death herself. She’d not contributed to the casualties. Dyella had obviously had a fantastic reason for forbidding her from loving anyone. They’d only end up injured or worse in her company.

Duplicity

After everything Gale had done for Phoxene, she still threw her to the wolves to save her own skin. She showed her love’s low worth. Luck had been on her side though, since the wolves had been welcoming.

While they left the study where they’d encountered each other, and Gale followed them downstairs through corridors with beige walls, she fiddled with the dagger that had fallen into her possession. She no longer needed Phoxene. Augustus would bring her with him, keep her safe.

Gale could continue on her own to the temple, kill Thotrix who must be distracted by Furore by now, and attain renown beyond her wildest dreams. She’d be a god-slayer. Who knew what benefits that might grant? Why would she ever even look at Phoxene again? She’d intended to discard her like a decoy.

“What will you do with her?” Gale asked the long-haired, muscular giant ahead of her in their procession.

“We’ll think of something.”

“It won’t be too harsh, right?”

“She’ll live.”

Gale realized it wasn’t the same as a lenient punishment, but Phoxene had betrayed her. She’d probably planned to do it all along. She’d shown how little she thought of her.

Even as she kept screaming into her gag, and they kept punching her to encourage her to shut up, Gale had to swear to herself that she felt nothing for Phoxene. No remorse, no mercy. Definitely not love. No, Phoxene had chosen her fate.

At best, she hoped Phoxene would grasp the extent of her mistake herself, because she couldn’t stay by her in good faith. She wouldn’t choose the love she might offer, not when it put her life at stake, not when it jeopardized her shot at fame.

Sadly, she couldn’t be that pathetic. If Hymn had been with them, she would have reminded Gale that Phoxene was a viper, and she’d only get poisoned if she stayed close to her.

Augustus stopped on the bottom floor of the building, gestured for the soldiers to investigate the street outside where alarms blared, and distracted everyone by issuing orders with his fingers. Gale ended up next to an open door in the corridor, and when no one looked, she slipped away from the group.

She didn’t say farewell to Phoxene, nor did she convince the rebels to remove her gag or restraints. She just left, snuck through shadows in a hall that stank of rotten meat, and slipped out of a window into an alley.

Fame awaited her in Thotrix’s temple. Love could forget about her, she’d already made her choice ten years ago. She’d thrown her life away for her twin in the belief it might bring her the world.

If Phoxene had been worth anything, she would have done the same. Not discarded her. She would have given her life for Gale. A woman she’d thought could grow to love her, even if she liked bragging about how she was as frigid and heartless as ice. If only her cold hadn’t been real, Gale might have spent the rest of her second life in Phoxene’s embrace.

She left the alley, stepped out onto an empty street, and heard a mechanical voice ramble to itself and burst into hysterical fits of sobbing. She feared she was seconds away from meeting something genuinely awful in the flesh, but even though she tried to run from the voice in the direction of the temple, it didn’t grow quieter or louder. It always stayed near.

Soon, she understood that boxes on top of pillars along the streets emitted the voice for everyone to hear. If she’d had an invention like that to spread her own voice, she would have used it to entertain. She wouldn’t have wasted the boxes on anything less than the best of ballads. She wouldn’t have whined and cried until everyone hated the sound of her voice.

Leader of Rebels

The machines who’d punched her until her ribs ached tossed her on a freezing stone floor, while the soldiers filed into the barren cellar. Augustus whistled, scoured the room, and searched for someone.

“Where did the historian go?” he asked. “Weren’t you keeping an eye on her?”

“Thought she was with us.”

“Might have gotten lost, in the streets. You want us to fetch her?”

“No.” Augustus scratched his moustache. “Too dangerous. And I don’t want to lose someone because of an outsider, who’s chosen the worst moment to arrive in Broken Shield. Either she’ll survive on her own, or she’ll be someone else’s problem. We’ll wait here until we receive new orders. They bombed the building across the street. We’d all be dead if we’d gathered there.”

Gale had not only betrayed her again. How many times had she done it now? Four? She’d left her future up to these rebels. If no one removed her gag, and gave her a chance to explain everything, she might die before she could kill Thotrix. A stray cannonball might fall out of the sky and crush her skull in the most meaningless fashion. It wouldn’t shock her.

If Iorvil had been with them, she might have believed the last faithful of Rhabour if she’d told her that she and Gale had spun around each other in similar vicious circles in other lifetimes. Of course, the idea was ridiculous, but how many times could one individual betray another?

“I’ll interrogate the prisoner,” a giant with white, braided hair said, grabbed her by her boot, and dragged her into an adjacent room. She scraped her elbows against the irregularities in the floor.

“By all means, Vinn, if you get anything of value out of a brainwashed woman,” Augustus said. “Tell us.”

Vinn shut the door, bent down in front of her, stretched her hand into Phoxene’s hair, and rubbed it between her fingers. She had the same blue eyes Iorvil did, except no warmth lingered in her calculating gaze.

“You sort of fit the description of someone infamous.” Vinn tugged on her hair, hard, so she winced. “A woman who’s got a bounty on her head. Have you seen the wanted posters? What do you think of them?”

Phoxene couldn’t respond because Vinn didn’t remove the gag in her mouth. She’d not seen any wanted posters either, because she’d only returned to Broken Shield for the first time in years. She would have spat the truth in Vinn’s face, that she’d stolen four airships from the empire, but Vinn made a poor excuse for an interrogator when she didn’t even seek answers. She only tried to intimidate.

“You don’t think much of someone like that, do you? You were born to be a slave, but we weren’t.” Vinn spat in her face, saliva slid down her nose. “We were born to be free, and like her, we will reclaim our freedom. Broken Shield ought to belong to those who have supplied it with its strength, don’t you agree?”

She screamed into the gag. If Vinn got rid of it, she could clear up the misunderstanding. Whoever she idolized was probably a person worthy of awe, if she’d inspired the machines of the empire to stand up to their masters and Thotrix. But she couldn’t say that with a gag in her mouth, could she?

“I should shave your head, so someone don’t mistake you for the woman on the wanted posters.” Vinn tilted Phoxene’s head to the side, grabbed another handful of red locks. “Then again, I’d like it if they did. The loyalists would cut you down on the spot, if they mistook you for her. And without a master, they might.”

She rolled her eyes, tried to speak into the gag to answer, but the sounds she created were muffled.

“What was the name of your airship? Mine was Warcry, at least until I ripped my master’s throat out with my teeth.” Vinn licked her lips, retrieved a knife from under her gown, and placed the tip of the blade against her cheek. “I wish to carve the name of the airship on the wanted posters into your skin, where everyone can see it. Don’t you think the loyalists would kill a slave like you much faster with Gustfin carved on her forehead?”

What?! The painter who’d drawn the wanted posters must have done a piss poor job, if Vinn only thought Phoxene resembled the woman depicted on them. They must be a worse painter than Vinn was an interrogator.

She started to laugh. How could she not? The situation she’d ended up in because of Gale was absurd. If the half-demon had told them the truth about her, that she’d flown the Gustfin since she’d been a little girl, none of this would have happened.

Fuck Gale. They could have been on their way to the temple together with a small army of rebels, if she’d not pretended to be some hoity-toity historian rather than a dimwitted singer.

Her laughter turned into cries that Vinn didn’t give a shit about as the knife cut into her cheek. Why did she have to suffer every step of the way because of others? Why were they so unreliable? Was it too much to ask of Gale, someone she’d promised to love, to stay by her side and keep her darkness at bay?

“Or I could cut off a little skin to make you prettier.”

If she’d not made herself vulnerable by relying on Gale, and Niaris, she wouldn’t have been tossed into this nightmare where no one listened. She’d been stronger on her own than with a couple of women who offered her the world and delivered none of it.

“Do you like the left side or the right side of your face more?” Vinn patted her cheek, slid the blade further up her face until it grazed her ear. “Tilt your head to one side or the other to answer.”

She threw her head forward to headbutt her interrogator, yet Vinn grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back into the wall. She screamed, she needed help. No one would come to her aid, because they neither liked nor loved her. They never had. She sat alone with a rabid dog.

Astray

Niaris rose from the rubble, drifted like a phantom through the ruin filled with new unchained dead, and stepped out of a hole in the wall. She’d not checked how far it was to the street since it never mattered anyhow.

When she landed, the ground quaked and her feet sunk deep into the dirt, mud, and blood. It took a while for her to pull her legs free, but she’d no reason to fear anyone in Broken Shield. Not anymore.

An airship exploded somewhere in the distance, killed even more mortals that should have been spared such an end, and likely destroyed several homes. She wished she hadn’t heard it.

The street lay empty, devoid of life and movement, while lightning danced in the sky. Barrels had been stacked outside of shops, carts had been forgotten in alleys.

“Why, why, why, why…” Thotrix’s voice echoed. She barely recognized it because of how self-pitying it sounded. Whatever had happened to her creator had changed them into a sad maniac. “Why!”

Niaris might have asked the same, but she didn’t see the point. Without Dyella, without her mother, she may as well go to the temple in Broken Shield and ask Thotrix what to do with herself. If they wanted to end her, they should get to do so. They’d created her. It was their privilege to treat her as a mindless puppet.

And while she might have liked to stay in Thylatserine to find Phoxene and Gale, she didn’t think it worth her time. Even if she forgave them, they would die too, like everyone else, and what then? Was she supposed to retreat into the afterlife with them? She supposed she could, but she’d rather receive a quick, painless end which spared her further anguish.

Dyella might have forbidden her from loving mortals because she was too powerful for them, but the former goddess had gotten it the wrong way around. Niaris was too weak to love anyone in Thylatserine.

She’d lasted less than a week, or however many days had passed, and already, she longed for it to stop forever. Those she’d hoped to heal died without her getting to know them as well as she might have liked. They just told her their names, asked her to save them, and disappeared in smoke.

“Dyella!” Thotrix shouted, enraged, and rambled. “Why, why, why…”

Niaris hadn’t expected to hear Thotrix still shout for Dyella, as if they thought they could bring her back to the realms with a simple command. Dyella might have been flattered to learn Thotrix mourned her in their loud manner, but she hated hearing it.

Why were the gods so self-centered these days? What had happened to building a better world for their chosen people? Thotrix whined like a petulant child while their city engaged in war and murder.

She trudged along the streets, followed the sound of Thotrix’s voice, and headed toward the hill of the temple as soon as she spotted it in the distance beyond tall buildings. A couple of children in rags ran inside a shop to hide.

If she’d been a mortal, she could have met her mother in the afterlife, but she didn’t even have that. Mortals were too fleeting, like autumn leaves that decayed into dirt the second they broke off their branches, yet she would have given her immortality to become one of them. She might have enjoyed a life with Phoxene and Gale. Even if they were selfish criminals, even if they’d corrupted her.

Instead, she would face Thotrix with her head held high. She would volunteer to negotiate peace in the war, if the god of inventions couldn’t do it themself, but then she might plead with Thotrix to reclaim her divinity. And that would result in the same end Dyella had met.

The Disgrace

Gale reached the hill of the temple. It’d been a longer walk than she’d expected, so she was pleased to see that Kan and Udfiol seemed to have landed safely further up the slope. Their airship had large holes in the side off the hull visible to her, scorch mark along its stern, but people moved in it. They were alive.

She ran up the path to the cube-like temple of brass and iron which gleamed in the light of explosions from the cannons in the sky, far behind her. Mud squished under her boots while she moved, yet halfway to the airship, she realized it might be a mistake to show up without their captain.

What was she even supposed to tell Kan and Udfiol about Phoxene? That she’d died? That she’d been captured? If Phoxene showed up before they killed Thotrix, she would tell them the truth, and they would oust Gale. They would not side with her, not unless she told them the truth from the very beginning. And she had no idea how they would react to that.

Phoxene had betrayed her, but she ought to have suspected she would. She’d known the rules of their game. Gale may have started it a decade ago, when she’d attempted to betray Phoxene because Fate had demanded it, but she’d hoped their game had ended. When she’d gotten a chance to prove beyond doubt that she would no longer play, she’d left her lover to fend for herself with a bunch of rebels who hated those loyal to the empire.

What if they’d not even been rebels? What if they’d lied?

The closer she got to The Disgrace, the slower she walked. She had Grinja in her belt, and the sheets of her epic stuffed in a pouch, but she’d lost something more important. She shouldn’t have left Phoxene or Niaris. If she ran back down the hill, into the city, and retrieved them, they might forgive her. They might not hate her.

Could she even face Kan and Udfiol under the current circumstances? They may have been nice to her every step of their shared journey, but their attitudes could change when they learnt what she’d done. They might decide to treat her like their enemy. On the other hand, if she wished to find Phoxene and Niaris, their help would be priceless. They owned the last airship of their fleet, and controlled a crew which could spread out to search the streets.

If she’d not abandoned Phoxene in the first place, she wouldn’t have had to hesitate while she approached The Disgrace. They could have run up to the temple, together, and confronted Thotrix. She might have made a terrible mistake.

“Gale!” Udfiol shouted, waved at her from the deck of her airship. She looked unscathed, though blood had gotten smudged over the moons on her forehead and her mantle. “Where’s the captain?”

“I…” Gale may as well come clean and pray they would forgive her. She could give them Grinja, if they didn’t. “We got split up after the crash, because—“

“Hurry aboard!” Kan threw a rope ladder over the side of the hull, gestured for her to climb up, and glanced from side to side like she worried they would get attacked any second. “Talk up here, where we don’t shout!”

Gale paused, well aware she wouldn’t be welcome on their ship when she told them the truth, and swallowed her reluctance. She stepped off the path to the temple, walked through the grass, and climbed the rope ladder while Kan hoisted it up.

“What’s happened?” Udfiol crossed her arms. “See you’ve got the dagger the gods gave us, at least.”

“Yes, Phoxene…” She’d acted in her own best interest after Phoxene had tried to sell her out to save her own skin, so she really should feel confident in the decision she’d made. Phoxene would have done the exact same, except she wouldn’t have thought twice about it afterwards. “I left Phoxene with the friendly side in this civil war, after she gave me up to them as a nicely wrapped gift.”

“You are daft.” Kan shook her head, a frown of disbelief appeared on her face. “Phoxene is right.”

“Yeah…”

“What do we do then?” Udfiol looked at the temple.

They were closer than they’d ever been to their goal, only some hundred meters lay between them and the temple’s brass gate. Yet when they entered they would face a god in the flesh, and a god could wipe them out without effort. If Furore hadn’t distracted Thotrix, like she’d promised she’d would, they would encounter a being they couldn’t best. At least the lightning in the sky seemed to have gone away.

“I don’t know where Phoxene is, at this moment, but she’s bound to show up, right? She’s intelligent. She knows where we were headed.” Gale sighed. She wouldn’t have had to have this conversation if she’d stood up for Phoxene. She could have bragged about how she was a better woman than her. “So, how about we wait?”

“It’s not safe to linger too long in these waters…” Udfiol shuddered. “We shot down the airships which chased us, no one’s turned up to avenge them, but it seems a question of time.”

“If Phoxene won’t show within the hour, we press on.” Kan slammed her fist into her open palm. “To succeed.”

“Do you want the dagger? It’s—“

“Hold on to it, Gale,” Udfiol said, sat down on the deck of the airship, and leaned her back against the railing. “Remember it’s not yours. It’s ours.”

“I know.”

She sat next to Udfiol, while Kan issued orders to the pirates and warriors who’d made it this far with them and retreated below deck. Why had she left Phoxene? What if she never saw her again? What if she never got another opportunity to kiss her? What then? What if her captain died?

Not only had she left Phoxene to figure out her own shit, she’d abandoned Niaris too. They should never have split up. They formed too great a trio to fight until they couldn’t stand to look at each other.

For a while, they’d made her think she could have both fame and love. That she wouldn’t have to choose between the two, because she wouldn’t live a half life with them. She would live an adventure. And if there ever came a time when she needed to focus on her dream, Phoxene and Niaris would have had each other. She’d noticed how they were drawn together, she’d been a little jealous.

“I should go get them.” Gale tried to rise to her feet, but Udfiol laid her large hand on her shoulder and put enough weight on her body that it became impossible to move.

“Sit. Phoxene will return. Niaris is unkillable. Yes, you are an idiot for leaving them, no one is disagreeing, but they’re unstoppable. Nothing you do will get them here faster. Have faith. Rhabour will guide their step.”

“They…” She sighed and held her silvery, bony hand up in front of her face. It gleamed in the light of the cannons like the temple did.

Niaris had saved her life, Phoxene had given her greater purpose. If Udfiol was wrong, and they didn’t show up, she wouldn’t forgive herself this time either. She’d given her life for her twin, yet she’d not even sacrificed a little humility for the women she loved.

They’d proved to her how she didn’t need to go at it on her lonesome, and rather than propose to them on the spot, so they would remain tied together forever and ever, she’d forsaken them. She deserved every bit of guilt that battered her heart.

Scarring

“Are you ready to talk?” Vinn danced the bloody knife across her fingers. “Ever since they freed me, I hoped I would get a moment like this with a slave who happily swore allegiance to the empire, so it’s been fun. Not so for you, I bet, but we all get what we deserve, don’t we?”

Blood slipped through the gag in her mouth, blended with the oily taste of the fabric. If her old master had never beaten her, she might have been scared of Vinn. But she’d learnt how to numb her senses and pretend whatever they did to her body wasn’t happening to her. She was somewhere else, on a meadow, in bed with Gale and Niaris or someone else, where the chilling pain didn’t exist.

Somehow, it became easier to endure the worst of Vinn’s torture while she focused on the memory of Gale’s voice, her arguments with Niaris, or their bath together in the temple a beast had wrecked.

She’d been a selfish prick to them, yet despite that, they’d stuck with her. They’d granted her tolerance she’d not extended towards them in turn. Up to the end, when they’d gone their separate ways, she’d thought of them as expendable and worthless. She’d been prepared to discard them, without hesitation, and reality had punished her for what she’d attempted to do to Gale.

They wouldn’t meet again. They had no reason to put up with her. If they’d been willing to listen, she would have dropped to her knees and offered herself up to them. Just like they’d once offered their days to her. At the start of their journey, they could have slipped away and escaped. They were sly. She wouldn’t have found them unless they’d wanted her to.

She wasn’t above anyone, never had been. At most, she’d tricked herself into believing she would suffer less if she refused to acknowledge certain parts of herself. Her feelings may not be as strong, as intense, as those Gale described in her ballads, but she’d liked Niaris and Gale. She’d enjoyed their company.

If she’d been raised by her real mother and father, not a master who’d kicked her half to death for every failing, she might have known how to show her lovers how much she appreciated their loyalty.

“Vinn!” Augustus banged on the door. “We’ve got new orders, leave the prisoner.”

“Your lucky day!” Vinn jumped to her feet, stepped over to the door, and tossed the knife at her head with a laugh. It hit the wall, clattered to the floor. “Meet you in the next life, slave.”

Phoxene waited until she was certain they’d left the cellar, then she threw herself on the cold floor, reached for the knife, and began to cut her restraints. The ropes were thick, blood dripped onto the floor by her head.

She may not have a clue how to make someone settle for her, but truth be told, she’d liked Gale longer than anyone else. Ever since the half-demon had played with her sleeves by the dinner table a decade ago, she’d thought of revealing her shackles to scare her off.

Yet Gale’s blatant flirting had made it clear she would not be dissuaded. And before she’d known how it had happened, exactly, she’d been cherished by someone for the first time. She’d had nothing to compare that night too. It had become very precious to her, later, after Gale’s death. Her master had used her, for his pent up desires, but he’d not loved her. Sex with him and his friends had been worse than being beaten.

She’d missed Gale during their years apart. She’d meant it when she’d told her she would choose to love her. No one else. At least until she’d met Thotrix’s daughter. Niaris had complicated matters. Thank the gods Gale was as greedy as her.

If she’d not treated them like dirt under her boots, they might have persuaded her to give up on her quest. They could have retreated somewhere no one would have found them. Regrettably, they’d accepted her for who she was instead.

She finally freed her arms, tore the vile gag out of her mouth, and went to work on the ropes around her ankles. On another day, she might have chased after Vinn and kicked her into a pulp, but the blame fell on her. She accepted the mistake.

If she’d told the truth for once in her life, Gale would still be with her, and the rebels wouldn’t have taken her prisoner. They would have welcomed her as one of them. If someone had shown her the woman on the wanted posters, she would have confessed how that must be her. She wouldn’t forgive Vinn, but she stood too close to her goal to not kill Thotrix. The rebels could thank her afterwards.

She pocketed the knife. She’d made many mistakes, lately, but she would worry about that tomorrow. If she survived her encounter with Thotrix, she could seek out Gale and Niaris afterwards to ask for their forgiveness. She didn’t deserve more. They were too considerate and kind for her.

She should stop aiming for the stars out of reach, and resume aiming at the throat of the god who’d enslaved her and her people. Even if it seemed unlikely she would succeed without an artefact to kill Thotrix, it wouldn’t stop her from trying.

A Difference

Niaris had not liked Thotrix at any point in her existence, but she’d not loathed the god of inventions as much as she did while they whined and cried like a despicable baby from the boxes placed atop pillars either. The mortals they were meant to nurture and protect died in droves. Thotrix didn’t notice because they were too busy pitying themself.

“Why, why—“

“You are pathetic!” She had enough, tackled the nearest pillar, kicked at it, and kicked, and kicked until the box fell off and landed in the street. Her snakes hissed, expressed the revulsion that flowed through her, while she stomped on the box so Thotrix’s voice crackled out. “I’m ashamed to know you created me. Anyone else would have been preferable!” She brought her foot down on the box a final time, flattened it into the mud. “Death to you.”

Unfortunately, another three pillars along the street had boxes on top of them which emitted the same mechanical excuse for a voice, but she had all day.

She shouldn’t surrender herself to a god who didn’t care about their mortals. She may have failed to save those she’d promised to protect, but if she accepted the blame when it didn’t fall on her as much as on the airships and cannons in the sky, on Thotrix, she would become too much like her creator. Too pathetic, too weak. She hadn’t killed anyone. She’d done her best and failed.

Many had died in her care, but millions more remained alive and in need of help. If she gave up, asked Thotrix to end her, she would give up on those who needed her the most. The gods were too busy worrying about themselves to let anything that happened to their mortals concern them.

She could not become what they’d become. If she stooped so low, she wouldn’t forgive herself. She wouldn’t deserve a swift end. She’d deserve to linger among the suffering of those without the gift of immortality.

“Why!”

She slapped her hands over her ears, so she wouldn’t have to listen to Thotrix. If she went to the temple, she would encounter Phoxene and Gale in the process of trying to assassinate her creator. She missed them. It was no use pretending like she didn’t want them, even now, even after they’d deserted her. Lust was an addictive drug.

She’d tried to force them to change, and they’d left her. Everything which had happened afterwards had made it obvious to her that she was too fragile for their reality, while they’d accepted the laws of the mess the gods had thrust upon them long ago. It wasn’t their fault others died. They’d not killed them. No one had mutinied under Phoxene’s leadership. Life in Thylatserine was a horrible curse from beginning to end these days, but it didn’t have to stay that way.

She would pray for the dead warriors to find peace in the afterlife, but since she wouldn’t join them anytime soon, she ought to do the best with what she had. Dyella would have forbidden her from socializing with Phoxene and Gale, but she didn’t need to obey her any longer. She could make her own choices.

And at least Phoxene and Gale understood what they got involved in when they befriended and seduced her. They were both crazy enough to accept the consequences of loving a demigod, she shouldn’t squander it. It was glorious to be desired by her friends.

“Why, why, why…”

“Shut up!!”

She couldn’t let what her creators had become define who she was. Thotrix had had immense divine power available to them, and they’d abused it through inaction. The cannons still rumbled in the sky over Broken Shield. Mortals suffered grievous injuries, prayed to someone who didn’t respond, and perished.

“Why!”

The god of invention would die, tonight. She would not stop anyone from killing them. She would assist. If that made her a criminal according to Dyella’s teachings, so be it. She had no intention to leave Thylatserine, not when she’d returned after a long absence.

She needed to harden her heart, but it would open new paths. One with Phoxene, one with Gale, and a third in which they formed a blasphemous trinity. She knew what they’d ask of her, since they’d asked it once before in a shallow pool, but more than that, she realized she’d ask for it herself.

Gale had convinced her to leave her prison, included her among her friends, and shared the woman which might have been the love of her life. The half-demon showed such generosity that it was impossible for Niaris to not love her. The sound of her voice was only bested by the depth of her heart.

Phoxene was problematic, no doubt, but she wouldn’t mind giving her a second chance if she relinquished Grinja. She’d told her the truth about herself and Thotrix, how the god who had enslaved Phoxene had also created her, and in turn, she’d not attacked. She’d stolen her first kiss. If Niaris didn’t reclaim that, somehow, she might have lost a permanent part of herself to the captain.

Honestly, she’d lost a lot of her old self to the couple. If she’d met anyone else when she’d first returned to Thylatserine, she might have drifted in a whole different direction. She might have stayed the same.

Nevertheless, the world had changed. Dyella no longer existed. Thotrix had gone off the deep end. She’d do more good if she picked a side already. She didn’t have to be miserable and alone while men and women bled around her. Mortals would not suddenly stop dying, just because she put an end to her own existence.

The best she could hope for if she planned to stay in Thylatserine was to find someone who could soothe her frail, vulnerable heart, and she had. Gale had come to her in death, Phoxene had come to her in life. She’d like it if they could finish corrupting her, while she did her best to heal whatever ailed those in need. She’d change with the world.

Divide

“Here she is!” Kan called out from a hole in the deck below.

Gale gathered her courage, turned to look, and saw Phoxene walking up the hill on the path to the temple. Dried blood coated her right cheek, and strands of red hair had gotten glued to her wound, but it didn’t seem to concern their captain.

It lent credence to her indomitable will. She didn’t acknowledge that she’d seen any of them. Phoxene only stared at Gale until she lowered her head and hid behind the railing and Udfiol.

She’d made a mistake when she’d left Phoxene, and the consequences of that choice was about to catch up to her. Maybe if she handed Grinja over without arguing, Phoxene would put their differences aside long enough for them to focus on the task at hand.

“Meet at the temple, unless you need immediate healing, captain?” Udfiol asked, as Phoxene stopped next to their ship. “Got the dagger.”

Phoxene nodded, glanced at Gale, and headed up the hill. The wind tore at her hair, her clothes, and exposed the tattoos on her tanned skin. The bite mark of Gale’s teeth. She glanced behind her once or twice, right at Gale, but then she refocused her attention on the temple as if she’d startled her.

Gods, Phoxene was beautiful. Why hadn’t she told Udfiol or Kan to throw Gale in the hold? Why had she stayed silent while walking past?

“With me, daft girl,” Kan said, as she reappeared on the top deck, and gestured towards the rope ladder. “Need that dagger, even if you are such liability.”

“I’m not—“

Udfiol stood up, pulled her to her feet, and shoved her forward. “Go on. We don’t have another hour.”

She suspected they were correct, but she wished she’d had all the time in the world with Phoxene, so she could have apologized for what she’d done, and prove beyond doubt that she meant it. That she probably loved her, even if Phoxene couldn’t love her in turn after the life she’d lived.

She descended the rope ladder while a crash echoed from the street, like a bunch of spears had fallen over, and spotted Niaris charging a pillar with one of the boxes on top. The demigod kicked the pillar until it bent, stomped on the box which fell, picked it up, and hurled it another.

“What is she doing…?” Udfiol asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Gale said.

“Destroying their invention?” Kan dropped over the side of the railing, climbed down the hull, and set foot in the grass. “We should have been productive like her while we waited.”

Niaris turned towards them, observed the temple, and raised her arm in a hesitant wave. Her snakes swayed back and forth in the wind, snapped for each other.

They’d been reunited. If they’d not been about to confront a god, she would have faced Phoxene and Niaris and sang her heart out to inspire them to put their differences aside. She needed them in her adventure of a life.

Reality

Phoxene slowed her steps. A thick gate of brass barred the entrance to Thotrix’s temple, with the vistas of Broken Shield depicted on it in lines of iron. Towers which spewed out smoke, rivers, and hundreds of homes stacked upon each other. She shouldn’t try to go inside without the dagger of the gods.

Her heart bounced, like a rock skipped across the surface of a lake, when she noticed Gale and Niaris approach with those in her fleet that had survived this long. They’d lost Saufnein, unless he’d bailed out of Little Shark at the last second. She wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he had.

“Captain.” Kan nodded, pointed discreetly at Grinja in Gale’s belt. “Give the order, then we go inside.”

“Kan…” She could have ordered Kan to confiscate the artefact from Gale, but if she did, she might forfeit whatever slim odds existed for them to repair their friendship. Her heart sank, like that stone across the lake, as she realized she didn’t have the time to tell Niaris and Gale everything she should.

They stood apart, waited for her to give the order, and for someone to open the gate to the temple. She longed to tell them that she was sorry, that she didn’t want to be thought as frigid, and that she could grow. Probably. At least she’d like to think she could, but she might be mistaken. Who knew how the result would turn out?

“Captain? Phoxene?” Udfiol said. “Did you need healing? You don’t look—“

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said, though her voice sounded hoarse and broken, as if she’d forgotten how to speak while she’d had a gag in her mouth. “Gale can keep the dagger.” She stepped over to the brass gate, up the small, ornate staircase, and tried to push it open. It didn’t budge. If they’d come all this way only to be stopped by a locked gate, she’d be pissed.

“Niaris?” Gale said.

“Hey, you want me around. Lucky me.” Niaris sounded snarkier than earlier, walked up to the gate, and put her palms against the brass. “What a day.”

For a second, Phoxene feared even the demigod wouldn’t get it open, then her arms glowed. Niaris murmured a phrase in another language, and the gate to the temple slid to the side to reveal the interior of Thotrix’s lair.

Dyella

Niaris hadn’t had any high expectations for what she would discover inside, so she’d not thought she would see Dyella again. Thotrix sat on their huge throne of failed inventions, rusting mechanical wonders, while Dyella sat with her back turned against the entrance on the metallic floor.

She would have recognized her mother’s golden locks, elegant pose, and cerise dress from any angle though. Thotrix didn’t seem to have altered their appearance since they’d last met either. They still looked like a wooden golem, with a blank face, who’d emerged out of the forest. Although, they’d donned a heavy, furred coat.

At first, she almost rushed up to Dyella to tell her how she’d returned to Thylatserine, and how happy she was to find her alive, but she was no longer bound to the goddess of love. After everything Dyella had forced her to endure, she didn’t even wish to speak with her. No. If the mortals killed Dyella alongside Thotrix, it might very well be justified.

Her creators chatted, laughed, and didn’t even notice how she’d unlocked the gate to the temple for assassins. Well, she was done bowing to them. In fact, since the opportunity presented itself to her on a silver platter, she might as well declare her new allegiance. If they wished to strike her down afterwards, they could try. She’d give Phoxene and Gale the distraction they required by putting herself on the line.

She strode into the temple, her feet clicked against the metallic floor.

“Wait, Niaris, what—“

“I’m doing what I should have done when she first imprisoned me. I’m not going to pretend I was content among the unchained dead a moment longer, or that I can live without love.” She retrieved the harp from under her robe, slid her fingers along its strings once, and raised it above her head before its music entranced the mortals. “You disgust me, Dyella! Thotrix has lost their mind, failed their mortals, yet you cower at their feet like a spineless worm!”

“Who are you? You seem familiar.” Thotrix rose from their throne, grew taller and taller, and extended a blade through the sleeve of their coat. “Should I—“

“Death to you, Thotrix! I’m talking with—”

“Not Dyella,” Gale hissed from the entrance. “Furore.”

Oh.

Wait, Furore was the one who’d murdered Dyella in the first place and prevented her from releasing Niaris from her prison. Forget Thotrix.

She lowered the harp, shoved it back under her robe. She’d planned to throw it at Dyella, if she couldn’t break it, but now she had someone to take her indignation out on. Furore deserved to be imprisoned for all eternity for what she’d done.

“A curse upon you, Furore!” Niaris rolled the sleeves of her robes up. “You imprisoned me. Killed my mother. I may be a demigod, but I won’t stand for—“

Thotrix lunged for her with their blade, extended it further out of their coat than should have been possible.

She froze, clenched her eyes shut in preparation for her own end.

Yet Furore moved faster, slammed the god of inventions into the smooth wall of their temple, and dropped her disguise.

Furore looked more like a demon than Gale with her wings and sharp, long horns. It suddenly made sense why lust had been able to make such a strong claim on her. A succubus had usurped Dyella’s throne.

“What side are you on, Niaris?” Gale hissed, stayed close to the wall, as she entered the temple with the others. “Furore agreed to help us, in my dream.”

“How could I have known?”

“I, uh…” Gale shrugged.

Niaris wasn’t sure what to do. Furore had defended her from Thotrix, and apparently, she’d been on their side from the beginning. She might have killed Dyella, but she risked her own existence when she fought another god.

They shoved each other into the brass walls, pillars, and caused an earthquake which blotted out the thunder of the war in Broken Shield. Thotrix crushed their own throne by placing their gigantic foot wrong. Furore chuckled so loud the noise rang in her ears.

If she’d been able to make herself huge like them, she would have torn them apart before they killed those she loved, and her friends.

The brass gate slammed shut, with a bang, and locked them inside. They might all be trapped at the feet of two gods wrestling each other.

It was strange to cheer for the demon who’d stolen Dyella from the world, but how she’d influenced mortals had inspired Niaris too. She might have chosen to follow Furore, if she’d never learnt the truth about her mother. Demigods had been misled before.

“Thotrix, you shame me!” She shouted, stretched her arms out, and walked closer to the gods’ feet, if only to provide Phoxene and Gale with the distraction she’d intended to give them. “I’m here for justice for the people you’ve hurt!”

“Get in line.” Thotrix laughed like one of their inventions might laugh, if they’d come alive.

The challenge infuriated her snakes. They hissed till they spat venom.

Jester

“Gale, the dagger,” Phoxene said, raised her open palm, while the gods duked it out like gladiators in an arena.

They traded savage blows, stomped on each other’s feet, and made it difficult for Niaris to stand still. Kan and Udfiol stayed pressed up along the wall with her, in relative safety, while Phoxene seemed ready to rush Thotrix on her own.

“I…” She grabbed the dagger from her belt. She could give it to Phoxene and see her run to her death, or better yet, she could keep Grinja and slay Thotrix herself.

She would achieve fame, if she killed a god, but she’d also not have to watch her love dodge feet which would crush her. Niaris was lucky she’d not gotten trampled yet. “I love you, Phoxene. I’m sorry if you don’t feel for me, at all, but I’m not going to stand idly by while you sacrifice yourself. I know, I know. I’m daft.”

Phoxene hid her face under her bloodied, tousled hair. “Gale, you are my—“

“Run to Fate, flee while you can!” Thotrix extended another blade out of their second sleeve, sliced it through the air, and severed one of Furore’s wings at its base. “Love has no power here.”

“Love—“

“Love has power everywhere!” Niaris exclaimed, interrupted Furore.

“What…” Furore smiled down at the demigod, threw her arm back, and punched Thotrix in the face, so hard the cracking of wood resounded through the capital of the empire. “What she said.”

Thotrix staggered, stepped on their throne again, shook their head, and refocused their efforts against Furore.

Gale slid along the wall, closer to the gods, readied herself to shove the dagger into Thotrix’s leg, and hoped that would suffice. The god of inventions was five times as tall as her, at least, so she wouldn’t reach their head unless Furore wrestled them to the ground.

“Gale, I’m not letting you do this.” Phoxene grabbed her by the neck of her shirt. “It’s my duty. It falls on me because my people were enslaved. Not yours. You’re free to—”

“I’m really not free to leave though.” Gale snorted. “The gate shut. I’m not leaving without you and Niaris. Alive. If I have to dance around the legs of gods, well, don’t worry about it. I’m an excellent dancer. They won’t nudge me.”

“And you think they’ll crush me?”

“Yes, I’m not—”

Thotrix flung Furore into the wall by Kan and Udfiol. One of them roared in pain behind the fabric of the goddess’ dress, squeezed up against the temple, squished like a bug.

“Oops,” Furore said, removed her leg. “Sorry, little one.”

Udfiol collapsed. Kan caught her, laid her down on the floor, and grimaced at the sight of her friend’s smashed bones.

If Gale didn’t cut Thotrix with the dagger, Niaris or Phoxene would meet a similar fate.

She slapped Phoxene’s hand off her. “I’m doing this. For you, them, and Niaris. Don’t get in my way, doll. Don’t make me regret joining you on this quest. Give me this, and I’ll give you what you crave. A dead god, in exchange for the glory of killing them.”

Phoxene shook her head, sighed, raised a hand in front of her eyes, but she didn’t try to grab her. Not twice. She allowed her to step out into the middle of the temple, away from the walls, and dance across the floor.

One foot almost trampled her, another blocked off the way she’d planned to go.

They both belonged to Furore, or she would have pierced their skin with the dagger. She was tempted to try to kill both gods, but she imagined she’d fail if she overextended herself. One dead god would impress any mortal, anyhow.

“Hey, Thotrix! You’re an embarrassment to Dyella!” Niaris shouted, while her snakes seemed to melt the floor of the temple with their spit, and mocked the god by adopting a similarly mechanical tone. “Why, why, why… Blech!”

“I will kill each and every one of you!”

“Get in line, you pathetic cretin!” Niaris slapped her hands against her chest, threw her arms up, and issued the same challenge her creator had issued her.

“Starting with you.” Thotrix sliced one of their blades through the floor of the temple, carved up the metal, and aimed it at Niaris.

Furore flicked her wrist. Niaris got pushed to the side, yet the blade slid so close to her that Gale swore she watched her die.

She saw her own reflection in the shiny metal of the blade, as it cut between their side of the temple and Niaris on the other. She looked terrified but determined.

“Miss.” Furore grinned. “Try again, darling?”

“I will.” Thotrix retracted their blade.

“No, you won’t.” Gale ran for Furore’s legs, jumped, and clung to the toes on her left foot.

She let Hope’s goddess lift her into the air.

And regretted how her family couldn’t see her do this for those she loved, or how they’d not even met yet, but she’d regale them of her exploits once she returned to Caelora. By then, she might even have finished the epic she’d dedicate to those who’d joined them on their journey.

Furore kicked her leg at their common enemy. Gale had to hold on tight to the goddess and the dagger.

Just as Thotrix’s foot came close enough for her to sink Grinja into it, the god forced Furore to retreat or taste their blades again.

Gale dropped onto the floor in the scuffle, landed on her stomach, and rolled around.

The heel of one god descended over her. They’d flatten her into the architecture of the temple.

In a desperate attempt to protect herself, she clutched Grinja, lifted the artefact into the air, and closed her eyes to pray.

“Gale!” Niaris and Phoxene screamed her name.

“Wish,” Fate whispered.

The dagger sank into the god’s flesh.

Intense pressure forced her into the metal underneath, where it’d turn her into a puddle of blood and viscera.

“Wish!”

She wished that whatever god had a dagger in their heel would die. If she was chosen by Fate, with luck on her side, it wouldn’t be Furore.

Believer

Phoxene dashed for Gale to save her from being crushed under Thotrix’s foot like so many of her people, but the half-demon disappeared out of sight before she could reach her. Thotrix set their foot down on top of Gale’s body. They would never reconcile.

Phoxene slammed her fists onto the foot. She should have told Gale how she cherished everything about her, from her silly jokes to her wonderful singing, but she’d not thought herself worthy. She’d kept the words down, where they belonged, because she couldn’t make her mistakes up to anyone.

An explosion of light lifted Thotrix’s foot into the air, knocked her aside, and caused the god to lose their balance. She crawled over to Gale, embraced the limp woman in her arms, and rolled to the right as Thotrix’s stomped their foot down where they’d lain a second ago.

She forced herself up on her legs to run while the god jumped around them. One unlucky step would spell the end of her life.

“Open the gate, Niaris!” She shouted at the demigod. “We’re retreating!”

“We are?” Niaris hurried over to the entrance and slammed her palms onto it. She uttered the same phrase as before, glowed, and yet, the gate didn’t budge.

“That’s my champion.” Furore chuckled, pushed Thotrix into a pillar. “My dagger. So I guess you’re done, eh?”

Thotrix wailed, shook as their torso caved in, and lifted their bladed arms to attack Furore.

The goddess of love only tutted, put a hand on their coat, and blew air at her enemy until they toppled and brought down the entire west side of the temple in a cloud of dust. Stones fell on top of Furore, but she shrugged them off.

“No more than what you deserve after severing my gorgeous wing. How do you expect me to convincingly fly without it?”

It became impossible to discern anything beyond the dust and smoke which stirred up in the god’s fall. Phoxene coughed, refused to breathe in case the air was dangerous to inhale, and waited for Thotrix to rise and retaliate. Slaughter them all.

Yet the god of inventions did not get back up.

“She did it…?” Niaris stared at Gale in shock, removed her hands from the gate, and pressed them against Gale’s chest to use the power on her instead. “She killed my creator?”

“I’m not sure.” Phoxene coughed, dropped Gale into Niaris arms, and covered her mouth. “I doubt it. Niaris, I’m…” She had to push the words out, or she would never say them. “I’m sorry. You were right about me.”

“We can have that conversation another time.” Niaris smiled. “I’m glad you survived, Phoxene. I would have hated myself even more for my weakness, if I’d been forced to save you from the afterlife too.”

“Gale, she—“

“Well done, girls.” Furore strolled out of the cloud of dust, while it settled, shrunk herself down to their size, and clapped. “I should never have given Hope twins. I should have known you’d be too smart for me. Still, Gale, that was Hymn’s wish. You owe me greatly now.”

The gods never stopped. Phoxene positioned herself in front of Gale and Niaris, flashed the knife Vinn had used to carve her cheek up, and pointed the useless weapon at the goddess.

“They’re mine.” Phoxene gritted her teeth. “If you make any claim on either of them ever again, I’m coming after you next. I’ve…” Thotrix had not gotten up after they’d fallen, so she might really have succeeded. Unbelievable as that seemed. “I’ve killed one god. I’ll kill another.”

“Not with that.” Furore pointed at the knife, giggled, twirled her fingers, and summoned Grinja in her hand. A viscous, brown liquid covered the dagger they’d been given by Fate and Rhabour. “I do admire a mortal with the audacity to claim a goddess and a demigod for herself though. Very sexy. You think they’ll approve, or no?”

“Don’t try me.”

“I—“

“Yeah!” Kan exclaimed, carried Udfiol out of the hole in the temple wall, and brushed dust off The Disgrace’s unconscious captain. “Piss off, goddess! You make no claim on us!”

Furore glared at Kan, stretched her free hand into nothing, and pulled a list out of something. She jotted down a quick note on the list, with a feather pen, before she waved her hand and it vanished again. “We’ll see about that, Kan. I am the goddess of love, after all.”

“Leave us. Gale and Niaris, Kan and Udfiol. Everyone is under my protection, because…” She shouldn’t struggle this much. It should be easy to admit what she thought, so she relaxed into it, urged the words to form, and listened to her soul. “They would have given their lives, everything they had for me, so the least I can do is the same. Of course, I won’t stop there.” She chuckled, tears appeared in the corner of her eyes, and waved the knife at Furore. ”I don’t know when to quit, like Gale. I don’t accept how I’m vulnerable, exactly like Niaris. I will die for my people because we belong together. They’re free to disagree, leave me, but I’ll keep them dear in my heart. Until my fucking end.”

“Wow.” Niari choked back her own tears. “My friends are awesome.”

Furore groaned, scratched her horns on the dagger, and flapped her last remaining wing. “I’m not going to fight another deity this soon after my rumble with Thotrix. You’ve won, Phoxene. Relish in it. If none of you know where I can find Fate, I’ll leave you for the day.”

“We don’t.”

Furore bowed with a flourish, faded, and flickered out. The goddess of love might return, but they could find another artefact. They shouldn’t rely on the goodwill of gods to see them through their conflicts. Not when they were such fickle bastards.

“Can you heal her?” Phoxene turned to Niaris.

“You heard Furore. She’ll live longer than us.” Niaris planted a kiss on Gale’s forehead. “Unless someone with an intense grudge comes after her. Mortals hate gods these days, shouldn’t you know?”

“So?”

“In your stories, in your hearts. That’s where you’ll find me.” Gale blinked her eyes open, crossed her arms behind her head, and groaned. “You love me too, Phoxene. You admitted it to the goddess of love herself. I heard.”

She twisted her head to the side, confused, her hair fell in front of her face. “In a manner of speaking.”

“She’s such a cutie, hiding under her bloody hair.” Niaris teased, the snakes’ hissing resembled laughter. “Don’t be scared, cutie.”

“Stop it you.” Gale stretched her limbs, glowed, floated out of Niaris’ arms, and landed on her toes on the floor of the second temple they’d wrecked. “That said, I’ve always wanted hair myself. And since it seems divine power is thrust upon the soul who deals the killing blow to a god, like it was thrust upon Furore when she killed Dyella, I can make myself look however I want. Requests, loves?”

“What…?”

“Gale is the new god of inventions.” Niaris beamed, bounced on her feet. “We can start by fixing Broken Shield, and rename it. Lots of wounds and mortals to heal. Do her shackles, Gale.”

“What?”

If she’d surrendered her shot at divinity, she understood why Furore was upset. She ought to be furious with Gale. How long had she known? Had she known at all, or had she honestly wanted to kill Thotrix for bragging rights?

“They are drilled into her arms, Niaris,” Gale said. “She’s the last person I want to hurt. Let’s ask Kan instead.”

“No.” Phoxene revealed her forearms. The cogs hadn’t clicked or whirred since Niaris had touched them. “Do it to me. I represent my people, and if you can’t prove you’re worth their worship, then I’ll—“

“I know, I know. You don’t have to say it.” Gale put her hands on top of her shackles, hummed, and gazed into her eyes. “I can repair these, remove the pain altogether whenever you use them, or I can attempt to restore your arms to their original form, but I fear that might misfire.”

“If you remove the pain, we’ll be able to fly our airships without the agony?”

Gale nodded. “I think so.”

“Do it. Please.”

The cogs retracted into the metal, brass covered up the white of her bones. Gale transformed her shackles into protective, silver arm bracers with the Gustfin depicted on them in adorned lines of gold.

“Tell me I’m free.”

“You are free, Phoxene. The goddess of inventions wants your ass, but not because I view you as a slave.” Gale laughed, awkwardly, scratched her neck, and inspected her silvery, bony hand. “Actually, call me Gale for now. I much prefer the name my mothers gave me.”

Niaris threw her arms around them, grinned from ear to ear. “We’ve got a civil war to stop, wounded to heal, and a city to rebuild. After that, we should visit this family of hers.”

“We should…?” Phoxene caressed her new bracers. She no longer wore shackles constructed by Thotrix. They’d accomplished what they’d set out to do. It seemed unreal, after all the years of slavery, whips, and beatings. “I don’t think they’d like to meet me.”

“They’d welcome you, or we’d ditch them,” Niaris said. “Civil war first though.”

“Yes, let’s arrange peace talks before we lose too many worshippers.” Gale pointed at her head and sprouted auburn locks that flowed down across her shoulders and chest. “Do I look good or what?”

“It’s not…” Niaris pursed her lips.

“It’s not you, Gale. It’s missing a certain flair.”

Gale snapped her fingers, so the lower half of her hair turned bright pink. “I’ll make it freaking glow in the dark too, while we make love, if that’s what you want, Phoxene.”

She glanced down at Gale’s figure, which remained unchanged, and noticed how Niaris did the same while trying to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Come on! My body is perfect!”

Hymn of Progress

It took five long years, all in all, to restore Broken Shield to what might constitute normalcy for the city. Although, by then, Gale had renamed it after her twin. The inhabitants liked to add their own twist onto the new, simpler name, and many referred to the capital of the empire as Hymn of Sorrow, or Hymn of Progress. Niaris called it Hymn, at Gale’s behest, though she thought of it as Hymn of Dyella.

When the goddess of inventions got involved in the civil war, they put a swift end to it, yet malcontents kept popping up long after. Not everyone was eager to follow someone like Gale after they’d followed Thotrix their entire lives.

The gods were like midnight and dawn. Gale brought the sun wherever she went, while Thotrix had cast a blanket of darkness over their people. Some had thrived in the shadows, but a greater number would thrive in the morning.

Niaris did everything in her power to solve the worst problems the inhabitants of Hymn of Dyella had inherited from their former god. She healed the wounded, fed the hungry, and erected shelters for the homeless. Gale’s divine assistance was invaluable to her efforts, without a doubt, yet Phoxene outdid the goddess at every turn.

She wasn’t sure what had inspired their captain to lend aid to those in need, but she welcomed her help and treasured their numerous hours together. Once she’d considered Phoxene a criminal, but after a year or two, she had to admit that she had to have redeemed herself. No one could ask more of her than what she gave every week, despite how she must be too busy with her new position in the empire.

“Niaris, I’d look terrible in a skirt, wouldn’t I?” Phoxene grinned, peeked around the corner of the office of her new clinic, and battered her eyelashes. The scars on her cheek had faded. “You wouldn’t want to see that, would you?”

“Whatever you say.” She slid her fingers across the shiny surface of the desk someone had donated. She’d been too busy doing her best for the wounded and sick to decorate her office, but she would get around to it, at some point. “Still, I disagree. Since you put the image in my head, I will fantasize about it in dreams.”

“No need.” Phoxene entered the office, half-naked. She only wore a flowery skirt around her waist, while she held her arms over her chest to cover her round breasts. She spun on the spot, turned her back against her, and swayed her hips in a hypnotic pattern. “I’m no fantasy.”

“I should… work.”

“My tummy aches.” Phoxene pouted, lowered her voice into a hoarse murmur. “Need a healer’s touch.”

She swallowed. “On you then.”

“Indeed, you should work on me. Or I might succumb to fantasy where my tummy doesn’t ache, and that seems pointless.” Phoxene winked. “Or do you disagree?”

“No.” Niaris rose from her seat, walked around the desk, and wrapped her hands over Phoxene’s stomach. She’d not gotten used to abiding by lust’s demands, not yet, but Phoxene was determined to destroy every remnant of Dyella’s teachings. “A healer’s touch is a finer remedy.”

“You’ve granted me such serenity, I’ll never forget our time together.“

“Hush.” Niaris kissed Phoxene on the tattoo of the bite mark, licked her tanned skin, and tasted sweat the sun had created. “Our time is nowhere near an end. Am I not the healer, and you the wounded? Let’s play your game.”

“That’s too close to reality to be a game.” Phoxene removed her arms from her chest, took Niaris’ hands, and lifted them to her breasts. “And I do believe the pain moved upwards while we talked.”

“I best heal you right away.” She stood on her toes to kiss Phoxene’s lips, attended to her chest with firm hands. Her snakes slid into her red hair. The captain’s tongue tasted like a bonfire smelled.

She might literally have to fetch her from the afterlife, if she ever left them. If the goddess of death took offence to such a heinous action, she could complain to Gale. Phoxene made her think all mortals could improve, for the better.

Silverhand

She’d not suspected that killing Thotrix would bestow her with divinity, but she didn’t regret how she’d become famous. After all, who could claim to be more famous than a literal goddess with thousands of worshippers? A part of her may have preferred to travel the world, build her fame over decades, but eventually, she accepted that she couldn’t stay in the capital of Thotrix’s fallen empire anyway.

If her interactions with gods had shown anything, it was that they grew to become lazy, corrupt, and complicit in the crimes of their mortals. If she stayed in the city of Hymn, she feared she would become like Furore, in the best case, and Thotrix, in the worst.

She’d not set foot in Caelora for fifteen years. She’d tried to use the realm of dreams to talk with her twin, once Fate had taught her how, but even though she’d been able to determine that her family was alive, she’d not convinced them that she was real.

During her worst days, she considered leaving the empire to let it figure out its own future. Phoxene and Niaris persuaded her to stay, at least until they were ready to come with her for a visit to Caelora.

In the meantime, she healed the shackles of those Thotrix had enslaved, repaired them, and removed the pain from their usage. The dolls no longer screamed or roared to forget the divine power that surged through their deadened arms. They wore the mantles their masters had once worn. They became generals.

Her most loyal subjects among them called themselves descendants of silver, and her Silverhand, since she’d not bothered undoing the damage her right hand had sustained. The bony, silvery appendix reminded her that she was still a dumb mortal, at heart. A girl who’d once thrown her life away for her twin and stuck her hand into the forge of a god.

She entrusted the immediate future of the empire’s generals to Phoxene, who she promoted to admiral. Kan and Udfiol became her seconds in command. No one ever heard of Saufnein again, but no one found his body either. If he’d died, he’d left no trace. Then again, Little Shark had exploded in a fiery ball. She hoped he’d bailed out, so that one day, he would hear the verse she’d written about him.

Gale put the feather pen down on top of her sturdy, oak desk, blew dust off the last sheet of her epic, and realized it might be the end. She’d stacked the other fifty sheets in a corner of their bedroom between two heavy dressers.

If she continued writing, she would not get to sing her epic any time soon. It would drag on and on, bore her listeners. She’d rather just start on another and record other events and mortals in history. If the gods refused to learn from their own mistakes, at least she could try to teach them with her voice.

“Do you miss sleeping?” Niaris asked, where she lay next to Phoxene in their triple bed.

Gale took a little pride in her invention of the triple bed, even if she’d not yet created anything as impressive as what the mad genius Thotrix had brought to the world. She’d repaired their boxes, since she’d been curious whether she could use them to spread music instead of nonsense.

“I don’t get tired.” She smirked at old memories. “My impressive energy never diminished in the past either. If I slept, it was because I passed out.”

“I have to will myself asleep,” Niaris said, but she never did. She crawled into bed with Phoxene, whenever she went to sleep, but she only watched over her like a guardian that had to protect that which they thought fragile. “It’s only good for joining them in their dreams.”

“Why don’t you?” Gale teleported out of her chair and into the bed, so she ended up in between her lovers. Phoxene mumbled in her sleep. Niaris scooted to the side and propped their fluffy pillows up, but rested her head on her chest instead. “I know you’re fond of her.“

“I love you too, Gale. Silverhand.” Niaris’ snakes slithered into her hair and got comfortable. “But we’ll have thousands of years together, and only decades with our captain.”

“She was promoted, you know.”

“She’ll always be my captain.”

Phoxene smacked her lips, yawned, stretched, and put her feline grace on display. “Your captain orders you to be quiet.”

“She doesn’t need her breasts healed again, does she?” Niaris retorted.

“What?” Gale asked. “What did I miss?”

“…No.” Phoxene grabbed a pillow, placed it over her head, and pushed it down, so she wouldn’t have to listen to them. “Thank you for the concern.”

Gale would love to hear the story behind that, but she didn’t have to be everywhere. If they wished to tell her, they would. If not, well, she could entertain herself. She’d gotten very good at it, and even pondered what kind of invention might improve her private time. Not that she needed such inventions, not with two lovers of her own, but there might be lonely men and women out there in the lands of Thylatserine.

“Do you think we should repair Thotrix’s temple?” Niaris whispered into her ear. “It’s been left to rust.”

“It’s a reminder for everyone that gods can be dethroned, including the gods themselves.” Gale squeezed Niaris’ hip, kissed her cheek. “Wouldn’t you rather have a flying fortress than a temple? We could fly anywhere, visit anyone, and—“

“What about the city?”

Gale sighed. She should have told them earlier that she didn’t plan to stay. That once she left she would not return for a long time, unless her people cried out for her. She could convert new mortals to worshippers. “If we stay too long, power will corrupt us, like it did with—“

“You,” Phoxene said. “It will corrupt you.”

“I’d like to believe you’d come with me.” She reached her silver hand behind her, trailed her fingertips along Phoxene’s back, and smacked her butt.

“Why can’t you let me sleep, one night…” Phoxene groaned. “You drive me into exhaustion with your insane desires. I miss the time when one of you was mortal.”

“No, you don’t.” Gale moved over to Niaris’ side of the bed to give Phoxene the space she asked for. “You keep setting out to find us at the weirdest moments. Who knows how you have the hours to do everything you do in a single day?”

“She does.” Niaris nodded. “She showed up half-naked at my clinic, because—“

“If you tell anyone about that, Niaris, I won’t do it ever again.”

Gale waited for Niaris to finish her story, but she stayed quiet, looked at her with warmth in her snake-like eyes, and smiled. She understood what might have happened, kind of, but not why Phoxene wished for it to remain a secret.

“With my flying fortress, you could heal the world, Niaris,” Gale whispered. “We could visit Caelora. We’d never lack anything on our adventures, because we’d have it all with us.”

“I’ll come with you, Gale, of course, but I’d like to have someone who could run my clinic while we’re gone.” Niaris stroked her chin. “And if Phoxene doesn’t want to go, we’ll kidnap her.”

“Not funny.”

“Great.” She wrapped her arms and legs around Niaris, pulled her into a hug, and shut her eyes.

She didn’t need to sleep, but she liked to keep an eye on the dream realm, where the fantasies and nightmares of her friends and family manifested. It seemed easier to use her powers in dreams too. If she were to finish her flying fortress, she had to plan its interior and exterior.

Admiral

Over five years, Phoxene did everything she could for her people, the old machines, even if a rare few showed they’d sooner die than bow to the new order. They surprised her with their unwillingness to welcome their own freedom.

Those who’d once ruled the airships as masters of machines were jailed, if they didn’t flee the capital. She captured Vinn herself and imprisoned her. Not as revenge, but to serve the time fit for torturing someone helpless. Many would serve similar sentences. No one was a slave anymore, but it didn’t mean everyone would accept whatever Gale imposed on them either. Progress would be slow.

She didn’t take to the idea of Gale’s flying fortress, at first, because she didn’t want to leave Hymn of Sorrow. She could do more good in the capital of the empire than anywhere else. Sadly, if she didn’t go with Gale and Niaris, they might depart without her. And while they were immortal, she was not. If she didn’t go with them, she might die before they returned. She would grow old while they didn’t age a day.

She never stopped searching for Saufnein, and sent out dozens of scouts, but she doubted he’d survived. He had no reason to stay away from them. Her drive to kill Thotrix had caused the loss of her dear friend.

Without Sauft, she wouldn’t have succeeded because she would never have tried. She would have become a hermit, somewhere, while her people suffered to this day. He’d inspired her to make a stand a decade ago. She’d done what he’d asked, albeit taken it too far. If they met again, some day, she would ask for his forgiveness.

Kan and Udfiol spent an inordinate amount of time together. Even as someone who had two lovers herself, she thought it strange how she could never organize a meeting with one of them without the other showing up as well with some made-up excuse. The more months that passed, the more they seemed like one person, not two.

Phoxene gazed out over the new fleet of airships constructed on platforms on top of the tallest buildings in the capital. They’d be the first airships that would never have a single slave on them. Gustfin may have been destroyed, because of her own pride and mistakes, but she’d had it rebuilt from the ground up. The new Gustfin was smaller, slimmer than the first, so it could serve in the vanguard of a fleet.

“I’m late!” Kan climbed up the ladder to the platforms, dressed in a newly bought orange robe, and the white mantle of a high general slung over her arm. “Udfiol came too because she was…” Kan thought for a moment to come up with an excuse, lifted her arms in a half-shrug, and offered a hand to Udfiol who followed her up the ladder.

“I was.” Udfiol nodded, threw her own white mantle over her shoulder, so the wind caught it.

If Iorvil had seen the dark leather armor Udfiol wore, she might have been jealous. Udfiol looked like the fearsome leader of the barbarians some were so scared of, despite how they’d been wiped out by Thotrix.

Phoxene wondered whether she should force them to come up with an actual excuse for why they showed up together, since they’d missed that part, or accept that there was no point. Not anymore. She’d step down as admiral to travel with Gale and Niaris, and Kan and Udfiol would assume her responsibilities. Soon, they’d outrank her.

“Do you wish to, you know, get married?” Phoxene asked, crossed her arms behind her back. She wore a ruffled shirt so fancy it didn’t even suit her, along with her own mantle, and the feathered hat Gale had presented as a gift.

“No need!” Kan raised her hand, straightened her back. “We’re fine dancing in bed, captain.”

“Admiral.”

“Captain,” Udfiol said with a playful smile.

“She taught me what dancing in bed means.” Kan teetered on her toes to get a better look at the airships.

“I got that.”

“I’m a great dancer, captain.” Udfiol seemed too big, too bulky, to dance without knocking someone over, but it wasn’t like it mattered in this case.

“You should watch us some time,” Kan said.

She couldn’t tell if Kan was joking, or if she was talking about something else entirely than what she had in mind. She stepped aside, so they could inspect the airships themselves. “Since you’re here Udfiol, you may as well guide Kan around. You’ve seen these ships.”

“She has already—“

“I shall see them now too!” Kan nodded, approached the gangway to the Gustfin, and headed onto its deck.

Udfiol bowed to her before she followed her fellow high general. Phoxene kind of wanted to ask what she’d taught Kan about dancing, but it was none of her business. She’d miss them, but it was so unlike her people to say farewell to each other and cry. One day, they’d meet again. She’d make sure of it.

Gale materialized at her side with a huge grin on her face. She didn’t burst into reality like the other gods, but her arrival carried an upbeat tune with it. The goddess of inventions was dressed in a long-sleeved, deep blue gown befit an empress.

“Notice anything different?” Gale raised her brow, again and again, as if she’d thought of something particularly clever and couldn’t wait until Phoxene figured it out. The gown might have been her first guess, but no, it wouldn’t be that simple.

She inspected her appearance for new details, then she rolled her eyes. “You’re as tall as me.”

“Mmm, no.” Gale raised her silver hand and almost pressed her thumb and index finger together to indicate how tiny she’d made the height difference between them. “Slightly taller. I’m slightly taller than you. Just slightly.”

“Are you trying to irritate me?”

Gale waved her hand. A strong gust appeared out of nowhere to push Phoxene into the goddess. “I am. You got me, I’m sorry,” she whispered, held her tight, and breathed on her skin. “I miss how we used to be. If I ask nicely, would you chain me up at your feet?”

“You should have let me become the goddess if—“

“You play games with Niaris.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Only that you look amazing in a skirt.”

Phoxene frowned. “I do.”

“I bet you’d be irresistible with a whip in your hand.” Gale snapped her fingers, whisked her away from the docks and the airships, and landed in a dim dungeon where torches flickered on the walls. Iron bars stopped them from leaving their cell, while a bed stood in a corner. Their surroundings smelled strangely clean.

“Where are we?”

“On the lowest floor of the flying fortress.” Gale laughed. “I’d like to inaugurate it. Whips are in the chest, I’ll chain myself up.”

“You don’t plan to use this dungeon for slaves, right?”

“No, but we may have prisoners.”

She would have appreciated it if she’d been told about that earlier, but maybe the flying fortress would be as massive as a city, and then it would make sense for them to implement laws and sentences.

Gale rattled chains she summoned out of the ether, while Phoxene kicked the chest open. Three coiled whips of various sizes waited at the bottom. One of them had nasty knots along its coil.

She’d helped Niaris with the wounded on those days she’d not been preoccupied with her duties, or the problems of her own people, so it was odd to get a request like Gale’s. But they’d first met at the end of a very different life, and she’d softened since then.

“I’m ready!” Gale squealed in glee, pulled on the chains around her wrists and ankles. “I’m so ready.”

“I can do whatever I wish?” Phoxene asked.

“Do your worst. Try and hurt a goddess.”

She picked the whip with knots, unrolled it along the floor, and flicked it against the iron bars. Even the sound it made was nasty. She would not want anyone to use it on her, but Gale was a goddess. At most, it would be a twisted game, since none of the whips could injure her.

Phoxene faced Gale on the bed, grinned, and scoffed. “I knew you were trouble the second I laid eyes on you, daft girl, but now you’ve crossed the line.”

“Oh, no! What did I do!”

She shook her head, stared at her boots. “This is silly.”

“Do it for me. I’m begging you.” Gale whined. “You keep playing games with Niaris, but not with me. I’m excluded from our trinity. Do you even—“

“Silence!” She flicked the whip at the bedside. “Do not question me, you insolent little wench.”

“Gods, you’re so hot.” Gale purred, rattled the chains. “Come to your goddess.”

“I’m a free woman! A rebel!” Phoxene flicked the whip, hard, at Gale’s legs. It left a bruise on her green skin. “You do not get to make delusional claims on my soul!”

“I own you.”

She aimed for Gale’s face for that remark alone, but missed and hit her stomach instead. The goddess squirmed in pleasure. She’d have to practice her aim if they were going to turn this into a regular occurrence.

“Coward!”

“Phoxene,” Niaris gasped, as she stepped around the corner outside their cell. “What are you doing…?”

Gale grinned her stupid grin, so she had to assume she’d planned this. Maybe she’d positioned Niaris where she could hear them without being seen, if the demigod had been curious but not willing to join in.

Phoxene grabbed both ends of the whip, tugged on it. “Blame Gale. I love her, and you, but she forced me to punish her.”

“I can’t believe you’d…” Niaris started laughing, waved her hand apologetically. “Sorry, Gale. I’m no good as an actor. Let me get my chair.” The demigod disappeared around the corner again and dragged a chair along the floor when she reappeared. “Carry on.”

“This is sillier than I thought you’d make it.”

“No one’s telling you to stop, doll.”

“Don’t call me that, half-elf!” Phoxene flicked the whip at Gale once more, hit her foot. The goddess giggled.

“Does our resident cutie think half-elf is more insulting than half-demon?” Niaris asked. “We should find a demon, on our adventures, and show her what they’re like.”

“If she does, she won’t get along with Venviel at all.”

“You can address me, by name.”

“She never bothered using my name when we first met,” Niaris said. “She just skipped to calling me cutie, and now she’s offended.”

“What a hypocrite.”

“I won’t be able to do this if you don’t stop talking with each other.” Phoxene forced herself to scowl, but grinned on the inside.

They shut up. Gale curled her toes, Niaris fed her snakes crickets. In the care of her loves, every day felt like she’d awakened from a lifelong slumber to stumble out into dewy grass in the morning and inhale the scents of forests and oceans.

They’d nurtured her until she’d become someone who dared drop her guard. In their powerful company, she was safe. They allowed her to be strong and vulnerable, all at once, and they loved her. She would never have understood love if they’d not taught her its meaning with their unconditional support. Something no one had ever given her before.

“Now she’s crying,” Gale said, puckered her lips, and blew her a kiss. “Do you want to take over, Niaris?”

“I’m no good at being cruel.”

Phoxene dropped the whip, Niaris’ words stung. “Me neither.”

“It’s not cruel when I’ve given you my permission, doll. The whip tickles, no more.”

“Fine! I’ll give it a shot…” Niaris slapped her knees, stood up. “How do I get inside?”

Gale snapped her fingers, teleported Niaris next to Phoxene, and writhed on the bed. “Maybe the whip will hurt poor little me if it’s wielded by a demigod.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Niaris said, missed the point, and lifted the whip like it might leave bruises on her body too because she’d touched it. “How do I…”

“I can teach you.” She placed her hand on top of Niaris’, smiled, and sighed. “It’s my specialty, isn’t it?”

“No, your specialty is your refusal to listen to anyone else’s opinion, if your heart tells you differently. It’s why you’re intimidating, why you do this so well.” Niaris twisted her head, brought her lips close for a kiss. “Why we chose you… Who knows what you might’ve done if we hadn’t?”

Niaris tasted of expensive, dark chocolate. She’d no clue where she’d find herself, if she pursued this strange path to its end, but at least her loves walked every step with her. Once she would have sacrificed her life to kill one god. These days, she dreamt of growing old under the watchful eyes of a demigod and a goddess.

“You kissing is exciting to watch, absolutely, but it’s not the whip, is it?”

“Couldn’t you invent a machine to whip you, if our performance is unsatisfactory?” Niaris asked. “Aren’t you the goddess of inventions?”

“I’d give it up to be the goddess of your asses,” Gale sang. “Who cares about the masses and their classes? I would have used my years to delight four ears.” She rattled the chains, so they produced a rhythm of their own. “And found solace in your cheers. Alleviated all our fears.”

“Selfish.” Niaris gripped the whip. “You deserve this.”

Phoxene adored those she’d chosen. She’d grown to cherish their peculiarities, and if their paths were to ever split, she’d run and run until she discovered their love again. They would never be apart. No wonder Kan and Udfiol seemed locked at their hips. They didn’t have a third.

Lho Allanar

Negotiations with Rhabour had broken down until Furore had offered to make him the third god of Lho Allanar, and that had taken a few years because she’d fully intended to find Fate on her own. At least after she’d extended the offer, in spite of her stubbornness, he’d agreed to reunite them.

She thought revisiting her couples had made her sympathetic to the plights of mortals, but she wouldn’t make such a claim. Nor would she listen to anyone who spouted nonsense about how she’d ruined love. She’d stuck her fingers into the hot pie, stirred its ingredients, added a little extra, but she’d not ruined anyone’s fun.

Good and evil hadn’t factored into the equation. Rhabour could shut up. The individual pieces had had to break to an extent, or they would never have fit together. Fayeth wouldn’t have chosen a human. Venviel would have killed Hope. Hymn wouldn’t have saved the god of time and his champion.

Truth be told, Hymn still irked her. Not only had the half-demon rejected Furore as her goddess, but she’d conspired to transform her twin into a deity. Or if she hadn’t, luck certainly had been on their side. It always seemed too convenient, as if a certain someone had influenced everything. How exactly had Gale gotten her hands on Grinja?

“I arrive,” Fate declared, strode into the grand council chamber above the throne room in the palace of Lho Allanar, and approached them with outstretched arms. “Allies.”

The goddess of luck and destiny looked the same, though she’d added a shine to her golden stature as if she’d polished her gold exterior. She wore a simple, feathery, tribal dress which might have fit mortals while their world had still been in its infancy.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Fate.” Rhabour smiled and got up from his seat to hug her.

The god of time had been a bit upset he couldn’t appear in his usual gryphon form, but he wouldn’t have fit inside the council chamber with his wings and tail. Instead, he’d settled for the wizened old man, in the robe of a keeper, with a long white beard that trailed along the marble floor.

“So long since last, Rhabour,” Fate said, loud enough for Furore to hear, but then she whispered something in his ear.

“You look…” Furore wetted her lips with her tongue. Because of Fate, she’d lost one of her wings, and since it had been severed by a god, she would never reclaim it. She could fly, but no mortal would think it looked natural. “Nice.”

“Dressed up for…” Fate rubbed her neck, lowered her gaze to the floor.

“It looks like you dressed—“

“Furore, Fate.” Rhabour interrupted her before she said something she regretted. “Don’t forget why we’re here. The sun threatens to engulf the inhabitants of Lho Allanar. Either you need to commit to the threat, carry it out, or put an end to these years. You know what I’ll suggest.”

Furore waved her hand, so two chairs on the opposite end of the round table slid out, and gestured for her guests to sit. She may have included them in Lho Allanar, but the city and its elves belonged to her.

“Fate did it. She sparked the eerie red light you see whenever you look outside.”

The windows in the council chamber had mosaic in their panes, so the red glow in the sky wasn’t as easy to spot as it might have been from a regular window. It was concealed behind those other colours.

“Not a threat. A warning.” Fate pulled out her own chair from under the table, sat, and summoned her glass ball in front of herself. “City’s evil.” The goddess spun her hands over the surface of the glass ball, enlarged it, and pushed it, so it floated into the middle of the table where it stopped. They got a bird’s-eye view of Lho Allanar and its temple, elven tree houses, mansions, sandy stone homes, and palace. “Need time to repent, change its ways.”

“It’s been over a hundred years.”

“If time is what you need, good thing I’m here.” Rhabour sat in one of the chairs Furore had slid out from the table. “I’ll do my best for you and yours, but we need to show ourselves in our true forms. Give them a demonstration of our divine power. Restore the palace to its former glory.”

“I would have loved to show myself in my true form, Rhabour, but I lost my freaking wing to Fate’s treachery.”

“Betrayed no one!” Fate exclaimed, slammed her palm onto the table, and muttered: “Baby.”

“What did you call me?” Furore growled.

“Called you a—“

“Ladies.” Rhabour made his voice echo throughout the chamber and sighed. “Ladies, behave yourself.” He cleared his throat when they both glared at him. “Or I won’t help you. I suggest we reveal ourselves to Lho Allanar, and make them believe we’re gods. At the moment, they turn to the temple for leadership, but it would be easy for you to change that. To prevent another mishap, I also suggest we hold each other accountable to rules we agree on.”

“Suggesting we form a new…” Fate’s body shone brighter. “Pantheon?”

“I…” Rhabour scratched his beard. “I don’t know. It didn’t end well last time.”

“Thotrix is dead, Dyella too.” Furore didn’t hate the idea of a united front, especially not if hundreds of artefacts may have been lost for mortals to claim. If she had to worry about a human or elf sneaking up on her, she wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. “I had a hand in both, so—“

“Threatening us!” Fate scrunched her nose up.

“Dear, if you’d let me finish, I would have explained how this baby has proved herself quite capable. Don’t take it as a threat, Fate.” Furore grinned, bit her lip. “I could never bring myself to kill you. I still want to put a demigod in—“

“Told you, gods don’t get pregnant. I lied.” Even so, Fate blushed. “I lie.”

Rhabour coughed. “You can discuss demigods later, though I’d prefer it if we agreed on rules regarding that matter too. Furore, I understand this might be difficult to hear, but it might be best if you take a new true form. If your mortals discover what succubi looks like, they might abandon you, and we can’t restore your wing.”

“Should I take a new name too?” She scoffed. “Fiona, is that what you called me?”

Fate narrowed her eyes at her, her face fell, and she glanced at Rhabour. “No rebirth for…”

“No.” Rhabour shook his head. “I’ve never been that powerful. I’m sorry.”

“What are you on about?”

“Nothing.” Rhabour pretended to yawn.

“Fiona is pretty, but taken,” Fate said with a flat tone. “Sooner name our demigod that than see you use it.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Furore is splendid.” Fate smiled, flapped her deer-like ears. “Look like one of your half-demons, no wings, for true form.”

“I suppose I could, but…” Furore gazed at Lho Allanar in the glass ball floating above the table. Only elves and the odd human lived in her city state. Her half-demons lived in Caelora. They’d not multiplied as fast as she might have wished. “In that case, you’ll help me bring my species into existence. I’ve got five now. I want another ten thousand, to start with.”

Rhabour erupted into a coughing fit, struck his chest with his fist to calm down. “Where will they live?”

“In Lho Allanar.”

“Where? Do you need us to erect buildings for them too?”

“Under the palace, if cleaned out,” Fate said. “Demons like the dark.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Half-demons like the dark if they want to spring into existence,” Fate said.

She sighed. “Fine. They can live in the tunnels under the palace, once we’ve restored it, and cleaned out the spiders. They get a little too massive in the depths.”

“Another beast?” Rhabour asked.

“Unlikely, didn’t put it there,” Fate said. “Someone would have told me.”

“Massive, hairy spiders. One of them is larger than the temple. If Venviel had delved deeper into the tunnels while she lived in them, she would have gotten eaten.”

“Driders?”

“I wish.” Furore chewed on her lip. “At least that would have been attractive.”

“You prefer that over deer, baby? Spiders?” Fate frowned, looked down at her own figure. “Cobwebs for clothes?”

“Perhaps. Why don’t you find out?” She said, kept a neutral tone, but if she’d been alone, she might have squealed at the idea of Fate shifting into a drider for her.

“Thinking.”

“I should have said it earlier, Fate, but you look lovely today.” Furore grinned. “Ravishing.”

“Oh, you—“

“Ladies, have we agreed on anything yet?” Rhabour asked. “I’m willing to attempt to give Furore her half-demons, if you agree to play nice, outline rules for our council, and put an end to the threat which looms over Lho Allanar.”

“I do.”

“So it’s done.” Fate nodded.

“Then, I suggest we meet tomorrow.” Rhabour stood, nodded at both of them, and stuck his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “If you’ve made peace by then, I imagine this might last a week at the very least. A month, even, since luck is on our side. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to stretch my own wings and soar over Lho Allanar. That ought to inspire some.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Furore reclined in her chair, while Rhabour teleported out of the council chamber.

“Lots of empty chairs,” Fate said, trailed a finger along her golden arm, and left a line of cobweb across her skin. “Silverhand could be invited.”

“We should have done this earlier, Fate. Restored Lho Allanar. There was no need for you to lie to me.”

“Yes…” Fate trailed off, watched her from under her brow, and stared at her with clear, suggestive intentions. “Show me your new form, I’ll show you a drider. Missed you, these years. Probably shouldn’t have, but…”

“I missed you too, even if five years is less than the blink of an eye, eh?”

Fate blinked, squished her eyelids together, and giggled. “Yes.”

Furore shed her final wing, dropped her silk dress, and pictured a half-demon with two horns, one shorter than the other, soft red skin, long, thick hair, yellow eyes, and the strapless white dress of a maid from a wealthy household. She pictured her face as undeniably adorable on the outside, even if she wouldn’t change much on the inside.

“What do you think, darling?” She raised a hand to her face, caressed it. It had become rounder. “How do I look?”

“Sizzling. Didn’t lose my favourite…” Fate pointed down at her own crotch.

“Of course not.”

Fate exploded in a flash of light, and when she reappeared, she’d transformed herself into a drider. A thin layer of cobweb covered the upper half of her body and chest, which retained its golden curves, while she’d changed her lower half into that of a huge spider.

“May have gotten anatomy wrong, but—“

“You still have a mouth, at least.”

“Naughty, naughty.”

Furore climbed onto the table, strode across it, and gestured for Fate to join her while she summoned hundreds of pillows out of the ether into the council chamber. “No one gets me going like you do, for better or worse.”

“We grow.” Fate struggled to contain her many legs, while she climbed onto the table. She almost hit her head on the ceiling. “Literally.”

Furore made herself taller as well, pulled Fate’s humanoid half into a hug, and kissed her warm, yummy lips. “Literally.”

After a night of passion which almost made up for the years they’d spent away from each other, they met Rhabour in the sky above the palace in Lho Allanar. The mortals had done their best to restore the palace, but while they’d gotten close, it needed a god’s touch, or three.

“Are we doing this, ladies?” Rhabour asked, blew smoke out of his nostrils, and curled his furry tail around a spire while he hovered mid-air in his true form. “You’ll have to do the heavy lifting, in the beginning, until they worship me.”

The elves far down on the streets gazed up at them in awe, pointed, or hid under whatever cover they could find. She may have taken it too far when she’d let the eerie red light linger above Lho Allanar until it’d terrified a new generation.

“We are,” Furore said.

“Another beginning then.” Fate smiled, wistfully. “Melancholic.”

“We’re needed, Fate.” Rhabour chuckled but it turned into a deep sigh. “Or we would have disappeared with the others.”

“Sounds wrong.”

“Who can say?”

Furore let the ancients reminisce about ages past, dead gods, and dipped into her own divinity to remove the threat over her resurrected city. Rhabour and Fate lent her their strength. The eerie light faded and marked the beginning of their renewed efforts. Maybe one day she would be as old and tired as Fate, but she had a long way to go yet.

Black Sails

Hymn approached the edge of the cliffs in front of The Amiciers’ Rest. The wind howled, but the ocean calmed her with its rolling waves. She’d awakened in the middle of the night, in bed with Iorvil, because she’d received a vision. For some reason, she’d known she needed to leave her home and go out and stand on these cliffs.

She’d rushed to get dressed, but now that she stood outside in the cold air, she questioned why. What had persuaded her to leave the warmth of her bed in the middle of the night? She still needed to work in the morning. She had a child to care for.

Then she heard it, a low rumble at first. All at once, twenty airships flying the same abyss flag appeared in the dark sky above the waves, headed straight for Caelora. They were under attack.

The low rumble grew and grew. A silhouette larger than Lho Allanar became visible behind the airships, took shape, and revealed its towers, spires, and battlements as it emerged out of a horrible shadow to consume everything she held dear.

Trumpets and horns bellowed. Drums rocked the earth under her feet. She stepped back from the cliffs, lest she fall if they crumbled. Her voice failed her. She couldn’t scream loud enough to warn anyone in the deafening music of the flying city in front of her.

The airships landed in the ocean, floated towards the beach at the foot of the cliffs. She saw people positioned in neat rows on their decks. They started chanting the loudest pirate shanty she’d ever heard in her life, as if thousands of pirates all sang it at once. Violins accompanied them.

Lights erupted on the towers of the flying city, traced beams along the waves, the beach, and the village until they found her, stopped for a couple of seconds, and lit up other villagers emerging out of their homes. Hymn saw Iorvil grip her axe, while Venviel aimed a bow in the general direction of the invaders, Art freed a sword from his hip, and Hope stood with her head held high.

“Sing, sing, sing!” A cheery voice sang above everyone else. “With me!”

The soldiers on the airships belted out their chant, like their lives depended on it, and the sound of every instrument intensified until Hymn had to put her hands over her hears, yet even then, she heard the terrifying music.

The city lowered its drawbridge, so it became a platform, a stage, and two women walked out onto it. One of them plucked at the strings of the harp in her arms, and promised peace with her marvelous solo, while her weird hair swayed in the wind. The other stood with her arms crossed behind her back, gazed down at them, and nodded straight at Hymn.

“Caelora’s lost daughter is lost no more!” Gale, of all people, sang, stepped out onto the drawbridge, and positioned herself in the middle of the two women. She wore a grey robe, with silver decorations that sparked in the night. “These sirens carry me ashore, so you’ll not mourn indoor, unless, of course, I do no encore.”

It couldn’t be her twin. She refuted that reality up to the point where the bond the goddess of love had given them awakened her soul, and Gale’s feelings of joy and adoration overpowered every doubt.

The hairs on her skin rose, her knees became shaky. She collapsed to the ground. A sudden lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, the tears wouldn’t cease. Gale materialized next to her, stroked her back, and silence reigned in the presence of her sister. The ocean still sang to her, but the instruments and the chanting died down.

“Don’t cry, Hymn. Death’s not so bad.” Gale chuckled. “I survived.”

She grasped at her twin’s robe, curled her fingers into the fabric. She needed to confirm that she was real, that it wasn’t a sick dream. No matter what, even if the gods interfered, she had to hold on tight to ensure the dumbass wouldn’t run off again.

Even as Hope and Venviel approached to welcome their fallen daughter back home, Hymn refused to stop clinging to Gale. She didn’t care if they couldn’t hug Gale. She couldn’t stand losing her, not twice.

“Hymn, you’re going to make me cry too if you don’t stop.” Gale returned her hug with impressive strength. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for someone like me, these days.“

She hugged her twin until her bones hurt, snuggled into her hair. “I-I love it when you sing to me.” If those were the only words she could form with the lump in her throat, she’d done alright for herself.

Wendy’s Newsletter. Wendy’s Facebook.

Want to know another truth about Dyella?

Cione’s Reverie (Book 5)

Outcasts Adrift (Book 6)

Sages of the Peacock (Book 7)