Light in the Darkness Part 1

Ruzatz was on a mission.

It was a rare occasion for the Prime Sin of Lust to leave Hosenka. Any that took the time to think of the last time it had happened, they would probably come up empty. Truthfully, the Incubus King actually ‘left’ the town more often than people knew. He was able to travel through interdimensional portals that brought him to meeting areas. He had to use these to meet up with the other Prime Sins, especially when they called for a hasty engagement. But he never let anyone know when that happened save his wife; he didn’t think people would enjoy hearing he l met with the other Prime Sins who were far less courteous than he.

But this day was not one of those days; he had left the town of his own volition and within the view of all his guild members. He had told them it would be a short trip, perhaps a few hours up to a day. They had been concerned of course; their guild master seemed incensed, almost energized, with a strange sense of emotions. He wasn’t his usual bubbly, enjoyable self but rather a stern, focused man of intent. He’d bid them adieu and then made his exit, utilizing one of his portals to take him to Magnolia, the home town of the Fairy Tail guild. A quaint metropolis but far too droll and uptight for his liking. He remembered when the Fairy Tail guild had been a rambunctious, raucous guild full of lively people who held one another as family. They would have protected one another against anyone and anything, even against the whims of the officiating bodies. The problem was… that had actually happened. And after, Fairy Tail had become a stain; a dark blot in the world as it avoided capture and sunk into the cesspool of the wizarding world. They’d risen again but they weren’t as they once were – there was a cold, scarred hardness to their motives and goals.

It was a surprise then to learn that Serilda Sinclair’s beau was one of its members. You see, Ruzatz hadn’t forgotten about the Voidwalker nor their meeting not that long ago. She’d left an impression upon him, especially given that Ozorith had set his sights upon her. The Prime Sin of Wrath was a playful fellow but all his games were full of ill intent. And despite the… awkwardness of the job they had taken part in, Ruzatz was rather fond of the white haired beauty. Something about her was curious and entertaining, like a good friend who differed so much in appeal and taste. But he had sworn to stay away from her, given how he had unfortunately affected her with his magic and how she had reacted to it. So it came as quite a shock when his wife had come home in tears, telling him about the self-same woman that had come seeking answers for her lost husband. He had listened, comforting his bride, as she wove the tale of a vicious, toxic man that had tricked the Voidwalker into thinking he had actually cherished her. It was despicable and ill-worth what Serilda deserved but the man was dead, his payment for his disgusting actions already rendered full. Yet there had been a moment near the end where her former husband had chastised her about her current love, touching upon a painful point. It seemed things were not right between the Voidwalker and her man, enough so that she had been stunned to silence and left before his wife could nary get a word in.

Now that was unacceptable. Ruzatz couldn’t get at the Hugo asshole but he could speak his mind to the man who was now tormenting Serilda’s heart. He’d sent queries, attempting to replicate the little information he had into a living person. It wasn’t hard at all – it seemed Serilda had gained some fame recently among the Magic Council and not just her. It seemed she had a fairly constant partner by the name of Mythal Ragnos. Quite the name on the gentleman but that was nothing at the moment. He gathered as much information as he could to give him a lead and then he was off to Magnolia, intent on giving the man a piece of mind.

It wasn’t hard to find him either – apparently he frequented one of the bars near the edge of Magnolia. As the Prime Sin walked in, he recognized the man immediately, standing at the bar as he awaited his drink. Ruzatz wrestled his anger down into his core and put on his suave outer façade, not wanting to seem like a scorned lover or friend. Mythal himself was in a bit of a depressed daze. Life seemed to be set in a permanent tunnel vision for him, the God Slayer simply existing for the purpose of existing. His emotions had become such a tumultuous ocean inside of him that he had given up trying to paddle for breath and had simply allowed himself to sink and drown. Serilda had… withdrawn from his life lately. They still spoke about business every so often but the warmth that had been between them was muted. He’d tried to find a way to keep their friendship alive and flourishing while pushing back on their unspoken love but it had failed, horribly. At this point, he seemed more than doomed to lose her completely.

It would be better that way, wouldn’t it? She’d be free of him; free of the dangerous situation that was his life and living. She wouldn’t have to suffer his cursed and abhorrent existence and he wouldn’t have to live in constant fear of his emotions. He’d be a terrible lover – constantly at war with himself, incessantly trying to keep her close while simultaneously pushing her away. He’d have driven her to insanity and then rather than having their connection fade, it would shatter and crumble into small, hated pieces. No, this was far better; even if it didn’t feel better. At least this way he could drown in booze again without feeling like a scumbag. The bartender had just finished filling up his glass with the lowest class whiskey he could find when a hand came over and planted itself on his shoulder.

“Hey there buddy! Been a long time!” Ruzatz said, coming into view with a pretty and charming smile.

Mythal blinked in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. Who was this guy? Why was he acting like he knew him? Why the hell was he so goddamned handsome? Fully thought out questions ran through his mind but what actually came out of his mouth was far less processed. “Wha…?”

“It’s been, what, two months? Come on, let’s have a drink!” Ruzatz insisted, his fingers pressing down onto the God Slayer’s shoulder. Mythal was surprised at the strength of the man’s grip; he quite literally had him under lock. Ruzatz looked over the bartender, who was warily looking between the two until the Prime Sin met his gaze. “You mind bringing an extra glass and the whole bottle over the corner booth? I’d greatly appreciate it,” he said, reaching into his pocket with his other hand and extracting a sizable bag of jewel. The bartender nodded excitedly and began gathering everything as Ruzatz forcibly dragged Mythal over to the booth.

The God Slayer was so utterly surprised that he didn’t really have time to fight back. He was pulled over and then tossed into the padded seat like a disposed piece of garbage, pushing himself back up hurriedly as his new ‘friend’ slid into the booth. Mythal’s eyes were narrowed as the man met his gaze for only a moment before tearing it away to look up at the bartender bringing the bottle and glasses over. “Thank you, sir. Please feel free to keep the change in the bag and uh… maybe include your number with the bill,” the Prime Sin, flashing his grin once more and a wink. The heavy blush on the bartender’s face was nearly as red as the Incubus King’s hair and he hurriedly moved back to the bar, neither denying nor accepting the man’s extra objective.

“Now then,” Ruzatz said, turning his golden gaze back to Mythal’s and his softly, pretty features losing their warmth. “Let’s talk, Mythal Ragnos.”

“Who the hell are ya?” The God Slayer hissed at him, his hands tightening into fists beneath the table. “You ain’t a friend of mine – I don’t have friends.”

“Given the way you’ve apparently hurt Serilda Sinclair, you can imagine how unsurprised I am,” Ruzatz said back, his tone even and uncomfortably neutral.

The name sparked more emotion in the God Slayer, his eyes flaring in anger. “Are you the guy?” Mythal asked, his voice menacingly quiet. “Are you… Arthas?” The God Slayer didn’t really want to start a brawl with the man that had been pestering the Voidwalker in the bar but he would. She’d been wary of him, downright uncomfortable with his motions and inhibitions. If this was the asshole, there was no telling just how much jewel Mythal would have to fork over for repairs after he was done.

“Seven Hells, no,” Ruzatz said, gaining a bit of his animated self back as he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Do I see the kind that stalks women and plays mind games with them?”

“You just dragged me to a booth without me givin’ you consent.”

Ruzatz blinked. “Okay, fair. But that was because I’m sure you don’t want me spilling all my anger at you in front of prying eyes. I’m all for a little drama but I’m trying to be a bit respectful here,” Ruzatz explained. He reached out and undid the cap on the bottle, his vision still present and focused on Mythal. But it had wormed into something different now; curiosity had overtaken his annoyance at the moment. “What’s your parentage?”

“What?”

“Your parents. Family history. Where do you come from?” Ruzatz rephrased the question as he started pouring himself a drink.

“I ain’t gotta tell you nothin’. But you gotta tell me how you know Serilda,” Mythal said, jabbing a finger at him.

The Prime Sin rolled his eyes. “Fine. Quid pro quo then. I’ll tell you how I know Serilda, you tell me about your family. Fair trade?”

“Fine, I don’t got a family, how do you know Serilda?”

Ruzatz chuckled and raised the glass to him. “Clever,” he stated before taking a sip, still studying the God Slayer. As he swallowed and let the lip of the glass drop from his mouth, he suddenly let out a small gasp. “Your magic,” he said, as if he was seeing it right before. “…you’re a Fallen God Slayer.”

Now it was Mythal’s turn to look confused, leaning back in concern.“Who the hell are you?”

Ruzatz snapped, as if something had suddenly just clicked in his mind – and truly it had. “That’s why I met Serilda. She’s connected to you and you’re connected to Faera,” he said absent-mindedly.

Mythal’s eyes widened in horror. “Who the hell ARE YOU?!” He roared, standing up and nearly knocking the table over. His voice echoed throughout the bar, causing everyone in it to suddenly stop talking and look at the two of them.

Ruzatz cocked an eyebrow as he turned his head to meet the collective gaze of the bar, looking concerned at the scene before them. He chuckled. “Isn’t he a pain? Too many drinks in him and he forgets who his boyfriend is,” he said, laughing off the drama. He then delivered a swift and brutal kick to Mythal’s shin, dropping him down onto the seat once more in agony.

And gods, had it hurt! One swift kick and his entire limb felt like it had snapped in two. Mythal reached down to grab it as Ruzatz took another sip of his drink. “Let’s just say Faera and I fall on opposite ends of the spectrum – both in existence and assholery.”

Mythal sat there, staring at him for a long moment as the gears in his head worked. It was several seconds later when they came together and he cocked his head slightly. “So wait…you’re a…?”

“Where there be gods, there be demons,” Ruzatz said softly, swishing his drink around in his glass to aerate it. “Ruzatz. Prime Sin of Lust,” he said, finally formally introducing himself.

“Prime Sin…” Mythal repeated it, leaning back completely in the seat. He stared at the man, taking him in from top to bottom in all his regal but almost comfortable air. Then he snorted. “That’s a stupid title.”

“Oh and ‘Mythal Ragnos’ is better? You sound like a villain from a comic book,” Ruzatz scoffed back, though he couldn’t help the small but impish grin tugging on his mouth.

“How do you know Serilda? She… I don’t see her associating with your kind,” Mythal stated simply.

“First off, racist. Not all demons are the same, you know. Some of them want to cause carnage, drink blood, destroy towns – some of us just want to be left to our own devices and live out our lives. Ones like me actually enjoy humanity and all its splendors. But, to your point,” Ruzatz said, taking another swig before putting the glass down. “I ran into her recently when she was on a job and offered to assist her. See, I’m the guild master of the Lusty Titans…”

“The Lusty Titans? Wha-…?”

“Don’t interrupt. Anyways, we helped arrest some bandits. You see, I was out for a walk because I felt like fate was trying to tell me something, wanted me to do something. So I went out and ran into her.” He paused, eyeing Mythal once more. If the God Slayer was connected to Faera… things were starting to come together for him in his mind. It was suddenly starting to make sense to why things were the way they were between Serilda and Mythal. All that pain he had felt within the Voidwalker, he felt it within the God Slayer as well. He had half a mind to tell him about it… but he couldn’t. It was a law he couldn’t surpass without painting a target on his and his loved one’s backs. As much as he hated it, he needed to keep his knowledge hidden. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t push Mythal in the right direction. “She is in pain and she needs you. Now more than ever.”

Mythal’s eyes snapped wide in concern. “She’s hurt?!”

“Hurting. But I think you know what I mean by that,” Ruzatz explained, cocking his head slightly at the God Slayer. It didn’t take long for Mythal’s mind to work it out and his own façade took on a more somber tone to it as well. “Serilda met with my wife and came about some… upsetting news. I’m not at liberty to say what – it is her news and I won’t go over her head to spread it. But I can tell you that she is in a bad place, a worse place than she was. I came here to punch some sense into you but…” He let out a small sigh. “I can see the situation is far more complicated than I first anticipated.”

Mythal was quiet for a long moment, his eyes having drifted down to stare at the bottle in front of him. Every inclination in him told him to grab it and down it, to simply ignore this demon’s words and drown himself in his sorrows. He’d put her in a bad place and now she’d gotten even worse news? He knew he was the scum of the earth but this was… unforgivable. But against his worse judgement, he spoke up. “Do you know where she is?”

Ruzatz shook his head. “I told you before – I’m not the kind to stalk. I hope she went to her home to shut herself out from the world but I truly have no idea. All I know is you must needs find her and offer her support. Go against your nature and be there for her,” he stressed that last point, jabbing his finger into the table before he leaned back.

Mythal continued to sit for a moment, looking over the Prime Sin. Then slowly he slid out of the booth, pushing himself to his feet. He turned to leave but stopped, his gaze coming back around to Ruzatz. “Why are you doing this?”

Ruzatz craned his head to look up at the God Slayer and sighed through his nostrils. “I like Serilda Sinclair – there is a quiet and authentic warmth that comes from her that very few possess. And because I, too, once faced the daunting task of being in love with someone I felt I shouldn’t have been,” he picked up the glass and swirled it once more. “Best get moving, Mythal. And if I were you, I’d leave this little chat between us for the time. I get the distinct feeling Serilda doesn’t like my kind,” he said with a snorted laugh.

The God Slayer eyed the Prime Sin for only a beat longer before he turned and went towards the door. This had been quite the strange meeting, one that he would talk about for ages after. But it was only one part of the journey that he was about to embark on. Whatever the case was, his concerns and worries about Ruzatz’ and whatever intentions he may have were far less important than Serilda’s health. He’d deal with the Prime Sin later if need be.

Ruzatz watched him go until the door closed behind him. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Faera… Ozorith…” he said quietly to the glass and nothing else. “These are not good signs. Not at all.”

“Serilda Sinclair. The hell kind o’ name is that then?”

Within the dark, hidden fortress beneath the land of Sin, enemies gathered. In the large meeting room sat the men and women that had conspired against Mythal – while most of them were also related to him. Archimedes sat in the stone chair that faced the door, his staff held loosely in his left hand as he tapped it against his chair. Jihl was to his right, her crystal ball placed directly in front of him on the table. She traced a finger over its surface gently, the magical essence inside trailing after the digit. To her left was Vriko, her mask set on the ground next to her chair and her sword box leaning up against its side. And directly next to her was Serethar, his hands clasped in his lap. The meeting had come to order.

"The heiress to the Sinclair family company. They own a mining company in Clover and are quite well known within the region. She’s a wizard who utilizes Void magic in… quite interesting ways,” Jihl explained as her eyes moved over the orb before her. It looked like she was reading the text right from the center of the swirling magic and perhaps she was indeed doing just that. "And, it seems, she has formed a romantic relationship with the failed vessel.”

“Aye, my son is far too important to be wastin’ his time on any human hussy,” Archimedes complained, rolling the staff between his fingers and planting it soundly. “What say we send Vriko here to cut her out o’ the picture?”

"No,” came the firm answer from his human wife.

“No?” He questioned, his eyes narrowing and his annoyance rising. He was not a fan of being told no – especially by a human.

"There are determined celestial plans for her that, should we interfere, will bring our entire enterprise to ruin,” Jihl explained, her eyes briefly rising to meet Archimedes’. "No fret, my love – she has a destiny that is beyond us. But she will not play a part in this game; it seems the failed vessel has been pushing her away. Soon their connection will sever completely. But with its strain is opportunity.”

“Now that’s more like it, lass,” Archimedes’ smile returned, encouraged by the news.

"The window is slim but the failed vessel is weak right now, corrupted by his human emotions. One prod in the right direction and he will fall right into our laps. And then Vriko can take his power and become the Dark Savior’s chosen one.” The woman turned her gaze to the raven-haired woman, who hadn’t lifted her gaze from the table the entire time. "Are you prepared to fulfill your destiny, my daughter?”

“I am,” she said softly, her tone muted and solemn. But her tone was ignored by her parents, who looked to one another in encouragement.

“Then it’s ‘bout time we get this party started. Jihl, darlin’, let us go and iron out these newfound details before I get my chance to act. Vriko, Serethar – you know where you’re required,” Archimedes said, his gaze on the human woman.

“Yes sir,” she said, nodding.

That was the answer he was looking for. With a grin he rose to his feet and walked towards the door, followed almost directly after by Jihl. The large stone doors swung open easily and then closed behind, sealing the two remaining members of the group inside.

“Well, it seems your role has been hastily pushed to the forefront,” Serethar said, stroking his chin. “I suppose congratulations are in hand.”

Vriko scoffed. “Congratulations? Congrats that I’m about to be hollowed out and absorbed?”

The tutor’s brow rose slightly, though not out of offense. “This is what you’ve been preparing for your whole life. Do you mean to tell me you do not wish to slay the failed vessel?”

“Of course I do!” She snapped at him through clenched teeth. “Even without being here, he’s ruled over my life. Everything I’ve been taught and brought to understand is to prepare for him. It’s pathetic – my existence is weighed against someone who doesn’t even fucking play for the home team!” She slammed her hand against the table, the room giving a small shake from her strength.

To her surprise, as she panted in anger, Serethar reached out and placed his hand on hers. “You will become part of our Dark Mistress. And together, you will rule my world and yours. I know it seems impractical and… depressing at the moment. But once you see what she has to offer, you’ll understand,” he told her softly, giving her hand a squeeze.

She sighed and pulled her hand away from his, not returning his gentleness. But her eyes did move to him, weighing him. “You’ve taught me since I can remember. For all your education and wisdom, how come you were subjected to teaching me? And why didn’t it ever… get you anywhere?” She asked, gesturing to the door. “You still serve that asshat of an archangel, when you are far more poised and collected than him.”

Serethar’s face was neutral at first as he met her gaze, his dull eyes unmoving. But slowly annoyance etched itself into his features as he shook his head. “My Dark Mistress has her plans and it is for Archimedes to remain as her Trumpet of Despair. But I thank you for your… kind words.”

“It’s not kindness, it’s observation,” she spat back, rising to her feet quickly. As she gathered up her mask and sword box, she continued. “Once I kill that failure of a man, I will allow myself to become Faera’s vessel. But only under one condition.”

“It is not wise to parlay considerations with my Dark Mistress…” Serethar started.

“I don’t care,” she snapped, attaching her weapon box back to her hip. “I will be her vessel so long as she lets me kill that asshole of an archangel…” Her eyes set on the stone door, her gaze smoldering with anger and hatred. “And that bitch that bore me.”

---

Mythal was not sure how Ruzatz had predicted it but now that he was out of the bar and into the fresh air, he could feel it. Something wasn’t right in the air and his gut told him it was about Serilda. How that worked out, he couldn’t tell nor would he question it. He simply followed the feeling and, apparently, a Prime Sin’s word. He didn’t bother waiting for the train; he utilized his flight and changed into a crow to fly to Ace of Spades. It wasn’t a short trip by any means but he kept on the entire time, forcing himself to stay airborne so he could arrive in the town in a timely fashion.

Once there, two problems arose. The far more material issue was the fact that he had never been to Serilda’s home. They’d talked about him going there but he’d never gotten the opportunity. When he had it, it had been right after Christmas and… things had grown complicated after that. He could go ask at the castle that housed Sabertooth and frankly, that seemed like his best option. His senses were strong but they couldn’t pick her scent out of the arid air of the desert. Her guild mates would provide him the information, maybe. He’d have to find a way to prove to them he wasn’t some creepy stalker trying to hone in on her location first. Flashing the Fairy Tail guild mark should do that…
Maybe.

The other issue was what had occurred in this town with Serilda not that long ago. His father, thought dead, had suddenly showed up and revealed himself to the Voidwalker albeit without telling her outright who he was. As he walked the streets of Ace of Spades, an uncomfortable knot formed in his stomach as he looked down each side road and alleyway. Would he catch a glimpse of his father here? Was the man watching from the shadows, keeping his distance for some unexplainable reason? All the questions that had been circling in his head prior all came rushing back, now that he was essentially at the scene of the crime.

He found he had been wandering aimlessly, the coming dark of night having made him lost. Luckily, this worked out in his favor. Just as he was starting to turn around, he heard barking and howling from down the road. He spun and saw Xiuhco there, doing everything to get his attention. And she was panicked – he had never seen the hound in such a fret before. His feet carried him to the Star Wolf faster than he could have expected. “Xiuhco, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to calm her down, though his own heart was racing a mile a minute. “Bring me to her, okay? Just get me to her.”

He would follow the hound right to the home, not waiting or falling behind at any step. The hound was able to slip through the doggy door but Mythal wasn’t exactly small enough to simply slip on through. But he couldn’t exactly look around for an opening he could utilize – time was of the essence. His foot easily knocked the locks out of place as he kicked the door open, practically shattering the swinging barrier to shreds. He entered without further delay, his eyes snapping around the main room as quickly as possible.

The room was a wreck. It looked like a tornado had come through and ripped everything out of its place. It also reeked of booze – the strong scent of wine met his nostrils with such pungency that even he had to take a step back. But he moved forward the minute he spotted the body lying on the ground between the coffee table and the couch, tearing the table out of the way so he could kneel down by Serilda. “Seri. Seri!” he said, reaching down and shaking her gently. His hand went to her chest, his palm flat against her to feel for a heartbeat. Normally people would go for the vein in the neck but his heightened senses worked just fine as long as he was near her heart. He let out a small sigh of relief when he felt the muscle thumping within her breast. But the odor of alcohol was much stronger here and as he looked down, he could see a bottle lying on its side, having deposited its contents all over the ground and her clothes.

“Gods…” he cursed softly. He reached his hands underneath her and lifted her up gently, putting her on the couch carefully so she was far more comfortable. Already he could see the bruising on her face and neck from where she had hit the ground, probably having completely blacked out. As he stared down at her wrecked form, part of him couldn’t shake the image of himself in the same position. Is this what he had looked like, living on the streets for so long? With a sigh, he shook his head and walked into the kitchen, to scrounge around for things to help her. Ice was found in the freezer and quickly wrapped in towels that were then wrapped around her neck and face, to keep the swelling on her features from getting any worse. After that, he went into her room and looked for some comfortable clothes for her to rest in rather than the wet ones she was in now.

It was not easy changing a person without their help. But somehow he managed to slide her out of the damp and messed clothes she had been drinking in and get her in more comfortable clothes. He tore the blankets off her bed and brought them in put over her, knowing that having her sweat would rid her of her drunkenness and help, if only a little, with the impending hangover. The last thing he got was two tall glasses of water, knowing she was going to need it when she finally awoke.

With her all set for the time being, he got started on the rest of ground zero.

Serilda had made a right mess of her place, which was surprising to the God Slayer as he looked around. His mind attempted to make up the house as it would normally appear, inserting picture frames and furniture where they may have been before Hurricane Voidwalker struck. With Serilda resting and him with no inclination to leave her or Xiuhco alone for the time being, he sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his iLac. He pressed a few buttons to get himself to the contact screen, where he highlighted a familiar name.

“Hello? Hello… hello?” Was the bumbling answer from the Demi-God of Storms as he attempted to work his own lacrima device. “Curses on this machine, is it on?” Mythal could hear the screen being tapped on loudly from the other side.

“Susan, it’s on, for Gods’ sake,” the God Slayer grumbled.

“Ah yes, Mythal!” Susano said excitedly. “My apologies – using this blasted thing is quite the chore. I have no idea why you insisted on me carrying one.”

“Honestly, for moments like now,” the God Slayer replied, his eyes trailing over the mess around him. “I need you to do me a favor. There’s ah… some tools, I think, in the basement of the house. Tools to like… fix things. I need you to bring them to me. Gren as well – I feel like his sister is goin’ to need some care,” his gaze lingered on the Star Wolf, lying beside her master on the couch.

“Is everything alright?” The Demi-God asked, his voice low. “Is it your friend, Serilda Sinclair?”

“Everything’s…” He almost said fine but judging by the look of everything, clearly everything was not fine. He sighed. “Well enough. Just do those things for me, kay?”

“Certainly, Mythal. I’ll be there in short time,” and as he bid his farewell, Mythal was treated to the sound of the Demi-God pounding his finger onto the phone’s screen in a clumsy attempt to end the connection. It was Mythal that eventually sighed and ended it, tucking his iLac back into his pocket. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in repairs but her door certainly needed some fixing. The God Slayer knew very little about home repair but he was just stubborn enough to try, at the very least.

Susano arrived shortly after that, carrying a metal case full of tools and the Star Wolf pup in hand. Gren had already grown accustomed to the Demi-God, or at least was comfortable enough with him to allow being picked up and transported across the world via a wind cloud. He hurriedly rushed into the room, bounding around at the new scents and sights within. But even the pup could sense the air and his tail slowly fell in concern at the sight of his sister and Serilda lying on the couch. He walked over and put his paws up on the couch to inspect the Voidwalker, sniffing her quietly and carefully before he plopped his rear on the ground and stood guard.

Susano, it seemed, was far more practiced in the art of carpentry. While Mythal went about sweeping and picking up broken pieces, the Demi-God went to work on fixing the door. The midget managed to use his magic to help take off the hinges and transport the door outside, where he could make his repairs without disturbing the resting woman. He finished his work shortly after and put the door back in its place, smiling a rather smug grin at his handiwork. He then joined the God Slayer in cleaning up the last remnants of broken pieces that had scattered around the room.

Once they had cleaned up the room as best they could, Mythal organized some of the pictures that had been unceremoniously removed from their frames. He paused on each one, his eyes setting on the man that was surely Serilda’s husband. He was a large, handsome man for the most part – though his smile never really reached his eyes. In fact, even in the photographs, Mythal felt a bit conflicted at the almost dead stare of her former husband. She hadn’t really described him as cold, had she? Maybe it was merely his mind trying to find flaws in the man that had once called his love wife. The thought sickened him and he eventually just stacked the pictures together. He picked up the ledger and turned it over in his hands, the ancient smell of it perverse and ragged. It was like it had been stored within a tomb. Part of him wanted to flip it open and look through but the stronger side told him it was none of his business. If Serilda offered him the opportunity later through conversation, he may – but he wasn’t about to go through books and papers that weren’t his.

Eventually Susano left, out to whatever he was doing before. Mythal thanked the man and promised to actually introduce him to the Voidwalker at some point in the future – when she was in a better state of mind. Explaining the midget’s lineage and godhood to her sure-to-be hungover mind sounded like a far more daunting and intimidating task than needed. Gren remained, having settled on the ground near the couch out of concern for Serilda and Xiuhco. When the God Slayer finally sat down on the chair near the couch, he was surprised by both hounds coming over and asking for attention. Clearly their worries required some tending to as well. He gave them both affection, with the smaller Star Wolf curling up on his lap in such a way that he could look out at Serilda.

When she woke, he had attempted to meditate/doze off. She groaned loud enough to wake him from his semi-sleep and he opened his eyes to watch her finally rouse. As she blearily looked over at him, she managed to croak out the question of how he had gotten there. But before he could answer, the contents of her stomach demanded recompense for her drunken escapades in the form of releasing its contents. She raced to the bathroom with all the elegance that one could have when they were hungover and Mythal followed after her, flanked by Star Wolves on either side. By the time he entered the room, she was curled around the toilet and relieving herself of last night’s food and booze. Not a great thing to have an empty stomach at two in the morning but better out than in. He reached out and held her hair from her face, saving at least larger portions of it from becoming coated in the mix that was pouring from her lips.

She cried for a bit, a mixture of emotions and physical detriments most likely washing over her all at the same time. There he knelt beside her, still holding her hair and another hand resting on her back, gently rolling in circles. She apologized to him and he shook it off. “You don’t have to apologize. Shit happens,” he told her softly, his eyes set on her though she refused to look at him.

What had been days without seeing one another or even talking had felt like longer. The more Mythal pushed away, the more he didn’t want the distance to grow so far. It was a quandary that was suffocating and infuriating, all at the same time. So despite her predicament in the moment, he was actually glad to be around her. So he was more than willing to help her out while she essentially hurled her guts out. As it slowed, she started showing some affection the wolves, wanting to let them know she was okay. As things began to settle for her, her stomach empty and the poisonous liquid starting to dissipate, she started to look a bit clearer. She still wasn’t looking at him, her embarrassment almost as palpable as it was back during their vacation. It hurt to see but there wasn’t much he could do in the moment.

She managed to croak out a single question, wondering if she could get some water. He nodded and stood, walking back into the main living area. He’d left two tall glasses for her there and he took one of them, bringing it back and handing it off to her. She took it quietly, taking the first gulp in to clean out the bile and acid that coated her mouth and throat. Once that was spat into the bowl, she focused on getting as much of the cool, hopefully refreshing liquid down into her stomach to replace the coating of wine. There he knelt beside her as her body started to come back, though no doubt her head was still pounding and her vision jagged. Once she was ready to get up and moving, he helped her to her feet and brought her back to the living room.

Her first question felt a little targeted, and perhaps it had been, but he shook away the ache that almost formed because of it. “I’m here because apparently you decided to go on a bender,” he replied, his tone soft. A part of him wanted to tell her that Ruzatz had sent him this way firstly but decided against it for the moment. After she had sobered up and wasn’t feeling as dreadful as she was, then he could go into better detail about it. He nodded to Xiuhco. “Once I got to Ace of Spades, Xiuhco found me. Barked and howled up a storm too. She led me right here,” he said as he reached over and scratched the hound’s chin, showing her some attention for the care she had.

She was sobering up rather quickly it seemed. She began to look around, spotting how differently her apartment looked in comparison to how she had left it. Choosing instead to ask about his entry rather than his time spent, the God Slayer sighed and scratched his head. “I kinda had to break the door down. Xiuhco bein’ that upset and the door bein’ locked – I couldn’t exactly wait to knock and hope you woke up,” he said, a tad bit of shame in his voice. He hadn’t wanted to cause damage to her property the first time he had come to it but… he didn’t have much choice. “It’s fine though; the door is fixed so shouldn’t be a problem here on out.” He went over to the chair and sat himself down, breathing out through his nostrils as he did so. “You’re not one go get blitzed like this, Seri. What happened?”

A bender like this required a reason, at least for a woman like Serilda. For him, back when he wandered the world, it was just another day at ‘work’. He drank himself into stupors constantly; wanting nothing more than to drown out his memories and thoughts in the blackness of drunkenness. That was because he’d had tragedy and pain in his life practically from its beginning. But when people experienced great stabs of agony in their livelihoods, they became prone to drink as easily as that as well. He imagined, based on her state and how he had found her house that something similar had happened. Had the distance between them finally boiled over? Or was it something beyond him?

His answer came not too long after he began to wonder. Serilda showed her affections and care for Xiuhco for looking for help, holding it quietly for some time before she finally managed to speak her mind. Her first phrase cut like a knife, slicing up his own emotions like a Christmas ham. He held his breath as she went on, clearly not talking about him but about… Hugo? He’d taken from her family for years while under their employment and even married her for the sake of doing it with greater ease. There had never been love there nor care – simply an end to a means. His hands slowly tucked into fists, the fleshy balls flexing tight enough that his limbs were shaking with anger. He’d used her like that, for his own benefit? He had faked his feelings for that entire time and Serilda had been suffering after his death, grieving him for years?

“How?” He managed to ask between clenched teeth. “How did you find out?” His words were filled with violent but calm rage – as if the revelation of Hugo possibly still living would provide him satisfaction. But it would only be the satisfaction of being able to properly end his life for such despicable, disgusting actions against her. But before he would get his answers, her eyes finally rose to meet his and stunned him with their… ferocity. It wasn’t necessarily aimed at him, per se, but it was still like staring at a wild flame consuming brush right before one’s self. There was no gentleness within her gems as she looked at him, nor was there kindness in her question. It was a testing question; meant to discern the full and proper truth of his being here.

To which, Mythal felt no need to hide. If she was awake enough and aware enough to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, then she was of her wits enough to hear the true story. “Ruzatz,” he said simply, his own anger quelling momentarily to let hers smolder. “I was out and he found me. Said that he was worried about you, as much as someone like him can worry,” he stated with a small scoff. “He said something about his wife having met you and you got some news…”

Mythal had no idea who Agatha was. The name hadn’t even come up in any conversation between himself, Serilda or Ruzatz – for the little time he had known the Prime Sin. There had only been a mention of a wife and how she had connected to Serilda to give some kind of devastating news. That was all the God Slayer was granted so as the Voidwalker was able to put the puzzle pieces together and complete one of the many pictures in their lives, Mythal was kind of left on the outside. But an answer for Serilda seemed to be enough to, at the very least, temper her anger for the moment. Now she was more just confused right along with him. “Whoever his wife is, all he told me was that she had come home to him in tears and had talked to him a little bit about what had happened. Destressin’ herself or whatever. He was concerned enough to track me down, though he never told me how he found me. Sat my ass down in the bar and told me to come and check on you… along with a few other things. He seemed to be able to tell I was a God Slayer; even mentioned Faera by name. He seemed to think that meeting you was some kind of… I dunno, fated meeting? He mentioned doing a job with you and how meeting you somehow connected him to me… it all seemed way above my paygrade,” Mythal said, waving his hands in the air. It was all a bit much for Mythal to follow so he had only really kept the important aspects of the conversation in mind. The rest of it wasn’t too concerning or, at the very least, wasn’t at the time.

Luckily his explanation earned him one in return, a length story of things that she hadn’t been telling him. There was a part of him that felt scorned; not having earned the right to hear all of her business when it happened. But then again, he also knew better than to feel that – he’d been pulling away and she was only doing what she felt was right by giving him space. He clamped his mental mouth shut and listened as she referenced back to job she had done about a month ago. He scratched his chin as he tried to remember back but as she unfolded more details to him, that being of the killed people and the raids, the details hazily came back into mental view. “Somewhat,” he said with a small shrug.

Apparently Arthas had shown up then as well. His brow furrowed and his hands returned to their folded positions. He hadn’t liked hearing about this man stalking her the first time and he certainly didn’t like hearing that he had continued those same actions. This time it was far more involved; he had insisted upon helping her take down the dark guild, in exchange for some possible answers for the Voidwalker. She didn’t seem to receive much but an offer for a job or title, that she had rightfully and swiftly refused. Her concerns and suspicions were already there before that but the more time she had spent with him, it seemed, the more she began to believe in what he was.

This meant that running into Ruzatz probably set off all kinds of alarms. She told him how she had experienced the Prime Sin in Hosenka and how he had joined her on a job as well. When he used his magic, she had suffered some effects from it as well and that had been the key to her figuring out that not only was he a demon but so was Arthas. Understandably the Voidwalker wanted answers and had gotten some from Ruzatz, who had explained that he was a Prime Sin of Lust, a high ranking demon. Not only that but the man who called himself Arthas was actually Ozorith, the Prime Sin of Wrath. So two high tiered demon lords had run into Serilda and forced themselves into her company in such a short amount of time – the very thought ran a chill down Mythal’s spine. And he wasn’t even that bothered by the existence of demons.

It seemed that Ruzatz didn’t think very highly of Ozorith, which was strange. One would think that demons of such caliber would be few and far between and, as such, would hold each other in a higher regard. But he had warned Serilda against him, as the Prime Sin of Wrath enjoyed toying with people’s emotions. And given his title, it seemed getting people incensed brought him great pleasure. Indeed he had shown himself to Serilda during times when her anger had been out almost in full force. She mentioned the woman that had claimed herself to be Hugo’s lover, a statement that both of them had blown off as a weak attempt to rile the Voidwalker up. But Serilda had begun to wonder if perhaps the lie had been truth after all and investigated further. She went and found an old friend named Colin, who had been busted for stealing from her family. As it turns out, he had all but confirmed Serilda’s worst fears – Hugo had been stealing from the family and cheating on the Voidwalker through the entirety of the marriage.

His anger flared again but he manually calmed it down, so that Serilda could finish her thoughts on the matter. He let out a small breath through his nostrils, the only sign he had been agitated again, as she continued. She nodded towards the ledger he had placed on the coffee table, still moved out of the way from when he arrived. He reached over and picked it up, flipping open the first couple pages as she explained. There were plenty of etchings in it that… didn’t quite make sense to Mythal but then again, he wasn’t used to reading ledger books. She explained that it had full details of the operation; all the losses the family suffered against the gains the illegal operation had made. No wonder he had the book buried with him in the coffin – such evidence was extremely damning, though it mattered little after he was dead. Mythal was starting to believe that being crushed to death had been a poor way for the bastard to die.

That opinion wasn’t going to get any lighter either. Serilda explained that she had run into a dead end and didn’t know what to do. She had evidence but she seemed to be in heavy denial at handing it all over unless she had completely solid proof. It seemed that the only option was a gypsy from Hosenka named Agatha, who was apparently the Prime Sin of Lust’s wife. That had been a shock but no more so than the fact that Serilda had actively sought out a supernatural force to try and get answers. Nearly from the moment he had met her, he’d known that she had a deep seeded fear of the unknown and the entities that thrived in it. Demons, ghosts, dark magic – she was not a fan of any of it. So the fact that she had gone out of her way to find an alternative, paranormal route was… shocking.

Agatha apparently had the ability to bring Hugo’s spirit out to talk. And he had been not only indignant against his former wife, he had been terrible. He laughed at her, mocked her, insulted her in ways that, even in his lowest moments, Mythal could never bring himself to do. His anger was brimming now, his magic starting to warm up in his core. He had to forcibly keep it down, wrestling the power that so wanted to seek out the ethereal plane and rend this asshole’s soul asunder. But he wouldn’t because frankly, right now, Serilda needed him. His last insult had stung the worst it seemed, having relegated her to nothing but a willing bed partner. It caused her to break down and she curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small and pitiful as she could be.

But Mythal moved over to the couch and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. Despite the distance that had grown between them, despite the wedge he had jammed in to try and keep himself and her safe, he threw it all away now. She needed him and he wasn’t going to turn his back on her when she needed it most. “You are nothin’ that he said,” he said softly, his voice firm. “You’re a kind hearted soul that cares for people, wants to help them in any way you can. You trust people to do the right thing and when they don’t, you step in. Who the fuck does he think he is that he gets an opinion in any of that? You’re better than him in every way, shape and form, Seri. You gave him a chance and he squandered it. He didn’t deserve it.” His words were quick and precise, his anger like a scalpel that cut away Hugo’s ethereal and infuriating words.

He held her for as long as she wept, resting her against him as she let it all out. He couldn’t deny that there was a warmth in him that arose as he held her again and despite his misgivings, he simply let it glow. This wasn’t about him, it was about her and she needed him there and then. He wouldn’t let her down… not like he had been.

Honestly, if Ruzatz found him through any means, it was probably by simple research. Mythal had become quite well known during his tenure with Fairy Tail, having earned the honorary title of Rising Star – some kind of accolade for those wizards that should be looked out for. Adding that to the fact that Serilda and he had done a fair number of jobs for the Magic Council personally and it was actually more unbelievable that people didn’t know who he was half the time. “Anyone with a bit of influence can probably easily find the link between us, if they know where to look,” he said with a small shrug, just accepting the fate of things right now. “As for why he sent me, I dunno. Maybe he figured since we’ve worked together so much, I’d want to know. He’s not wrong – I’m glad he did but I can see why you would have preferred one of your family.” Given how their relationship had turned recently, she probably wouldn’t have been terribly happy to see him.

Whatever the case, he was here now and he didn’t plan on leaving until she had settled down. He held her tight against him, cradling her carefully in his arms. She unfolded herself slightly, if only to cling to him and cry heavily against his shirt. He said his piece, trying to get his point across to her but her mind was being pulled in hundreds of different directions at once. Adding in the booze probably wasn’t helping her any as well. She resisted his words, citing her concerns and revelations all at once. She had ignored his behaviors because she had been blinded by her upbringing. She’d ignored signs because she had never even thought anyone would hurt her or her family like that. He tugged her a bit closer. “So you’re at fault because you cared for someone? Because you believed in them, trusted them? You loved Hugo and wanted to see the best in him – there is nothing wrong with that. Weren’t you the one that told me however I was brought up didn’t matter; it was how I moved forward from here on out? Yeah, maybe you were privileged but that don’t mean you or yours deserved that. The wolves will find any way to get their prey and if it weren’t through deceit, it may have been worse. A lot worse.” If they hadn’t been able to get a man on the inside, they could have resorted to far more violent options. It didn’t make anything right but it was meant to show that there could have been worse alternatives.

And his words about her expertise in bed were low, even for an ingrate like him. But what was worse is it had sparked the question he had been avoiding for quite some time but seemed he had run out of rope here and now. She was shaking as she asked him about her, asked if Hugo had been right about her ability to perform. Asked him if that was why he didn’t want her anymore. She was far too intoxicated to not keep the truth locked inside and he knew that; but it didn’t make it any easier. “No,” he answered her honestly without hesitation, not wanting any brief pause to send even more wild thoughts into her head. “He’s wrong. Completely and utterly.” That was his honest truth, a book he subscribed to fully and completely.

“If I didn’t want you, Seri, would I be here right now? I’d be out of here, letting you wallow in your own misery like Hugo would do. You know me; you’ve worked beside me, slept with me, talked with me, been the greatest friend I could ever ask for, learned truths about me both from and with me and I am here now, with you. You want my opinion? Hugo didn’t know what he had when he had it. He was so wrapped up in his long con that he couldn’t see the beauty he had married. He needed his side business and his side chick to keep him goin’ because that’s the only way he felt excitement. You are better than him in every way.” He took a moment to catch his breath, realizing his anger was rising once more and his tone was shifting. He was working himself up, still wanting nothing more than the chance to punch that smug bastard right in his nuts.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t still want you, Seri. I don’t fuck around with people’s emotions because mine have been messed around with since birth. Until evidence proves else, my own father faked his death to stay away from me for years. My own whirling, tumbling, screwed up emotions is what is causin’ this… rift,” he said, finally admitting out loud to the distance that had formed between them lately. “But it will never be so far as to keep me from comin’ to you when you need me most.” Gods, his mind was a mess. Through all of this he had been trying to avoid his feelings for her, convinced they weren’t right because in the end, they would cause her pain. But now he could see that by pulling away, he was causing her even worse devastation. And in truth, he was a wreck as well. He had nearly reverted back to his old ways, a sour lonesome traveler that wanted nothing to do with anyone. His wedge, in an attempt to free them both, had in turn caused agony and emotional destruction at the worst time.

He hugged her close to him instinctively, resting his cheek against her head. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe love was something he could do without being afraid of it. Serilda certainly didn’t make it hard to bask in its glory and light. It wiped away the shadows of his mind and heart in a warming, gentle caress of color and delight. Fear had been such a strange emotion to attach to that light but it had nonetheless, causing him to flee like a mutant back into his shadows and solitude. But seeing her as she was, being here with her as he could be, he didn’t see reason behind it. It wasn’t logical to be afraid of this, of what he was feeling and experiencing. But when had love ever been logical? It didn’t matter – he wasn’t much of a scholar as it was. All he did know was that he wasn’t leaving her and perhaps, when she awoke in the morning and was far more sober, he’d finally tell her the truth. It wouldn’t be right if he did it now – her emotions were too raw, too pained and her mind was still plentifully soaked in liquor. She deserved to hear it when she could fully grasp it, so that it would hopefully help her shed the shadows that now dragged on behind her.

It felt… uplifting to finally talk about the rift between them, if only for a little bit. Acknowledging it out loud he imagined would be quite the challenge but if anything, she actually seemed to release a bit of her tension. Of course she was still crying but there wasn’t much that could stop that now until she truly settled down. But he did everything in his power to assure her that he wasn’t leaving and that his desire of her had never really wavered; it had merely been swallowed up by self-doubt and foolish fear. And truthfully, it felt so good to have her with him again, to have her warmth pressing against his, that his fears already seemed so far away. Which made him wonder why they had ever come up in the first place? They had seemingly come out of the cracks in his mental walls, forcing concern between his care and affections. But that didn’t matter; he would figure out his feelings with time and thought, though he had an idea of where he was going to go. Maybe after Serilda went back to bed, as she was surely going to run out of energy sooner rather than later. Booze had a funny way of sapping all strength from a person.

She went on for quite some time crying and he sat there, holding her to him as she let it all out. She needed it badly – a release of all that tension that had been building up in her and finally culminated in this episode of downing wine like it was water. He never made noise or complaint as she wept against him, simply letting her get it all out for the sake of finally having it out there. When she finally started to calm down, her energy waned. Her stomach rumbled loud enough that even Mythal could hear it, though that wasn’t that hard with his enhanced hearing after all. She remarked about how she definitely needed to eat something, explaining that she had started drinking on an empty stomach. He reached down and stroked her head carefully. “Well… time to see if I can do magic like your family,” he said, slowly lifting himself up from her and setting her down gently. But he made sure she was still sitting up for the time being – lying down would probably knock her out again and waking her up would be become a mental nuisance for her beleaguered brain.

He grabbed the pans he could find and set them on the stove, taking a solid minute to look over it before he could turn it on. It was quite different from his and he realized it was because the one that had been installed in his acquired house was… actually fancier. How rueful he was to think he had a more expensive stove than she had in her home here. It was probably nothing in comparison to what her family probably had but still. After he had lit it, he scrounged through the fridge to find some things to cook. Luckily – and to absolutely no surprise – Serilda had a well-stocked refrigerator, with meals ready to be prepared for any time of day. He wasn’t sure what would suit her best, as everyone’s hangover seemed to have a different remedy, but greasy food seemed to always work well with him. He grabbed a tray of grill ready bacon and some eggs, setting them on her counter and preparing them. Runny eggs would probably make her stomach do flips so he whisked them together until they were a fine yellow liquid, scrambled being the choice apparently. In the pans he poured the liquid eggs and draped the bacon, the loud sizzle from each causing a flare to shoot up for a moment before settling down. He searched for utensils and took out the spatula and tongs. Dual wielding them like a kitchen pro, he pushed the eggs around until they started to puff up and turned the bacon over itself until it looked crispy.

He grabbed a plate and put the food on it, making sure to turn the stove off before he took it in to her. He’d left his on so many times that he was practically burrowing it into his head to remember now. He brought it to her carefully, providing her a fork as he sat down next to her. She took her time eating, though that didn’t seem to be out of any disgust with the meal itself. Honestly she was probably still too drunk to really taste the food, her body seemingly acknowledging that she was putting sustenance inside her belly. She ate most of it incredibly, managing to scarf enough that she would at least be able to sleep without the spins. And as she finished, he took the plate and scarfed down the rest, surprised at how hungry he had been. Before he could even really set the plate down on the side table, she was falling asleep against him. Her arm wrapped around his waist, holding tight despite her slumber – like she didn’t want to let him go. He sighed and leaned back against the couch, draping his arm over her and settling his head against the wall. Surprisingly, his body seemed to feed off her exhaustion and before he knew it, he had nodded off as well.

He awoke a few hours later when Gren was pushing his paws against his knee, quietly trying to get his attention. He groaned softly and lifted his head, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the darkness around him. Serilda was still nestled up against him and he was still sitting in the same position he had been. Gren’s little face was peeking out over his knee, the hound whining softly as he pushed against the God Slayer’s knee. Bathroom was probably the most obvious reason the pup was waking him and he probably didn’t really understand the practicality of the dog door. Mythal sighed but reached out to rub the hound’s head, letting him know he was awake now. Gently he lifted Serilda off of him and set her down on the couch once more, draping the blankets over her completely. He looked at her for a long moment before he headed towards the door, Gren excitedly walking right beside him.

He was surprised by how… luxorious her back yard was. There were several different gardens filling the area behind her cottage home, each one as colorful as the last. He couldn’t recall if she’d mentioned that she enjoyed gardening but by the look of it, she certainly did. He walked among the predetermined areas, looking over reach bed of flowers, plants and other such things that she had planted and tended upon. Gren wuffed gently as he ran beside him, as if to ask if he could do his business anywhere he chose. He shook his head and pointed at the small patch of grassland at the end of the yard, right where it turned into woodland. The hound snorted loudly and took off in front of him, rushing to the grassy patch and immediately squatting. Mythal shook his head, though he was smiling the entire time before his cast his gaze to the side.

The first colors of daylight were beginning to break at the horizon, the darkness of night beginning to fade towards him. An hour, maybe an hour and a half before the sun began to peek over the ridge of the world and reacquaint itself with the land. And for the first time in a long time, the God Slayer didn’t frown or scoff at the thought. Sunlight had always been a bit of a nuisance to him but on this morning, he actually was looking forward to it. His gaze pulled down among the many planted items in the garden, each one an extension of Serilda’s care and heart. Her small but quaint building that she called home away from home, just homey enough to be comfortable without throwing her wealth or title around. The wondrous woman inside, who had suffered far more than she deserved at both her former husband’s hands and frankly, his own. It was like the darkness of the night immortalized all of that pain and ache and the sun, pushing through the void, was meant to wipe it away. He was not lost to the irony or imagery of the sights and revelations as his mind came to a final, hammered conclusion. His fear of intimacy was not worth the rift he had caused. Now, more than ever, she needed him to step up and rise above the stubborn chains that attempted to keep him down. When she woke up and was in her right wits, he would tell her the full truth – he’d fallen in love with her.

His smile was surprisingly wide, considering everything. Maybe it was a hope for the future, maybe it was his own amusement at how stupid he had been – probably a mixture of both. But the fact that he was facing  his fear head on without letting it run his life was oddly satisfying. He turned his gaze to Gren, ready to call him over so they could head back inside. No doubt the pup had been sniffing around all of the gardens, enjoying the brand new smells entering his nose. But his smile froze like ice, his blood coming to a chilling stop as well. Gren was still squatting over the grass, exactly in the position he had been before. It didn’t even look like he had managed to go to the bathroom. “Gren?” he asked, his voice rising above a whisper. His concern far outweighed his interest not to raise an alarm among her neighbors or the Voidwalker inside. The pup didn’t move at all when called, which only served to worry Mythal more. “Gren!” He yelled out more forcefully, moving towards the Star Wolf.

“Ey laddy, he’s gonna have a right hard time hearin’ ye at the moment,” a smooth, Sevenense voice came from just past his vision of Gren. Mythal’s eyes snapped up to see a man stepping out from behind the trees, an oddly pretty man that seemed… familiar.

Where had he seen him? That smooth, slicked back obsidian hair, the glimmering emerald eyes that seemed to hint at playfulness. And that tone of voice… his eyes widened in realization. “Oak Inn. You were there that night of the murder,” he said.

“Aye, that I was. In fact, I was the one whisperin’ insinuations and suggestions to that poor ol’ boy you nearly split in half,” the man said proudly, spinning his scepter through his fingers and then planting it on the ground. “The name’s Archimedes.”

“You… you made that guy do that?” The bellhop had wound up being the murderer that night, having hidden among the staff so he could do his deeds. Mythal had practically buried him in the stone wall of the basement, his annoyance with Serilda having forced him to… hit with a bit more force than normal.

“Made is such a derogatory term, ain’t it? I simply pointed out that he was far more talented than the snotnosed richies that misused him. Didn’t take much of a push. But I ain’t here to talk about that; I’m here to talk about you,” Archimedes said with a smirk.

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” Mythal snapped, his right arm already pulling back. He reached down deep, taking hold of his magic and prepared to yank it up in full force into his attack – except nothing happened. His magical pool remained still, even as he tried to will it into his hand. He glanced at his arm in confusion, surprised he didn’t see the pitch black gauntlet wrapping around his limb. “What…?”

“Ah, fun fact about this here time stoppin’ spell; it stops everything save for what is allowed to move. You and I can move just fine but our magics – not so much. While we’re in this bubble, we’re essentially disarmed,” Archimedes explained, waving the staff between the two of them as he spoke.

The God Slayer snarled. “I don’t need magic to beat your face in.”

Archimedes chuckled, wagging his staff before him like a parent chastising a child. “I don’t doubt that, lad. But if ye do that, nothin’s gonna stop Faera from tearin’ your life apart – more than she already has,” he said casually, though his smirk deepened.

If Mythal’s blood was already frozen in time, it had just turned into a river of ice. He heard the words but he didn’t necessarily need them; somewhere, deep in his gut, he had known already. “Faera…” he said softly, his arm dropping to his side.

“Aye. Allow me to actually introduce myself. Archimedes, Trumpet of Despair. One of the Dark Mistress’ Archangels. Oh and… yer daddy as well.” He took great pleasure in revealing that, his words practically slurring together in a giggle as he did.

Mythal’s mind felt like it had been smacked with a paddle, his vision going blurry for a brief moment as he attempted to process all of this. He managed to keep his footing still, though the rest of his body swayed slightly. That couldn’t be, it just couldn’t… “My…”

“Proud papa angel, aye. Oh laddy, you should see yer face right now. That took the wind right out yer balloon quick as a fiddle,” Archimedes giggled, placing his staff on the ground so he could lean against it dramatically. “Come now, son, ye knew you were the result of a human and an angel bumpin’ uglies – Faera told ya way back when she tried to take ya body for her own. When ye pushed her back all those years ago. To be honest, all I am is impressed; takes quite a strong soul to say no to the Dark Mistress.” He cocked his head, looking at Mythal’s pale white face and chuckled once more. “What? No words of kindness? No love and affection for yer dear ol’ dad? How about a hug then?” He threw his arms out mockingly.

“No!” Mythal finally spoke up, cutting the air with his hand. “You’re… you’re nothin’. You planted a seed and nothin’ else. Gren… Gren was my real father,” the God Slayer found his resistance, despite the fact that his entire body was shaking.

“Oh and how did you repay him for that kindness? Burned him down to the ground with his house, as I recall?” Archimedes shot back in a foul taunt, his smirk widening into a vicious grin. “Must be my boy if you got that level of ice cold in ye,”

“Shut up!” Mythal roared, his hands closing into fists. Every instinct in him told him to charge, to punch this asshole’s head right off. He didn’t care if he claimed to be his father or not – he was here and mocking him and Gren. He’d frozen time just to taunt him but… his body wouldn’t respond. It wasn’t any part of the spell, it was more his mind was so busy processing the information that his body wasn’t capable of responding to any signals.

Archimedes stared at the God Slayer for a long moment before he sighed. “Oh aye, fine… yer suckin’ all the fun out of it anyways,” he said with a scoff and a roll of the eyes. “Let’s get to my point of bein’ here then, shall we? Ya made a right mess of Our Dark Mistress’ plans decades ago and then ye stomped on one o’ our fav’rit’ toys couple months back.”

“How can you even be here? Yer all supposed to be locked behind that door,” Mythal said softly, his eyes darting back and forth as if he was reading words in the air. “I closed it. How are you out…?” Had he seen Archimedes before he closed the door? Had his time in Oak Inn been before he fell into the trap? His timelines seemed to be messed up at the moment.

“Faera herself can’t leave Kingdom Darkness without a certain ritual – the one that was supposed to plant her in ye. But there are others that allow us angels to take over willing hosts. This fella here used to be from Seven; a right well fella that saw the beauty in our Dark Mistress’ dream,” he explained, tugging at the suit he was wearing. “It’s an easy trade – they get the glory of becomin’ a subject in our court and we get a body to roam this pitiful world in.”

“Kingdom Darkness?” Mythal asked.

“Aye, me home. The world where we inhabit. Its history is far too detailed to go into – I’d prolly only bore ya,” Archimedes said, waving his hand in front of his face. “Though if all works out, yer gonna get to visit it right soon.”

Mythal snarled. “Like hell I will. I closed that door and I ain’t goin’ back there,” he insisted, the fire in his core flaring up once more. “Not until I’ve found the means to wipe you and her and everyone else in there out from existence.”

Archimedes nodded along with his words. “A right noble goal, that. But I’m afraid yer gonna have to consider movin’ up the timeline on that lofty goal, if ye hope to save everyone.”

“…what?”

“Finally to my point,” Archimedes said dramatically. “You’ve done enough that Faera’s patience has run dry. You resist and fight and claw yer way away from her influence, despite her best qualities bein’ yer own. So rather than keep per’suin’ ye as she has, she’s takin’ a different route. She’s gonna force open that door you locked and unleash all of Kingdom Darkness upon the world. Rather than givin’ these pathetic humans the option of join’ our team, she’s gonna wipe the slate clean. Should be quite a sight – seein’ all yer friends melt away into shadow, forever lost to the darkness.”

“No…” Mythal said quietly. “She can’t. I’ve done my research. She can’t just open the door without havin’ power over here herself. That’s why she needed me.”

“Aye, ye right there. But ye see – I’m more than a one pump chump. I’m perfectly able – and willing – to sire another child for our Dark Mistress. Your baby brother will become the perfect vessel for Our Grace’s embodiment. And then ye and yours can prepare for the floor of everlastin’ darkness.”

No, that couldn’t be. Why would they have waited so long to do it if they could have easily replaced him? Unless there was something he didn’t know – some detail that he hadn’t been made privy of. Asking was useless; Archimedes seemed more content to taunt the God Slayer than give him a straight answer. His words could have been lies or attempts to make him do something rash – but at the same time, what if they were truth? What if he dismissed them and he found himself staring down the apocalypse with no way to stop it? “You’re lyin’…” He growled, his crimson orbs practically glowing as they met the peaceful emeralds of the Archangel’s.

Archimedes tapped his chin with his finger. “I could be. But can ye afford to commit to that finality?” It seemed even he knew that Mythal was stuck between a rock and a hard place and his grin seemed all the brighter for it.

“Why are you here to tell me this? Just to taunt me?” the God Slayer asked.

“I’ll admit I do get a good laugh at the way yer face scrunches in anger, aye. But no, in fact, Faera bid me tell you this. She’s nothin’ if not fair and wanted to give you a proper warning. Perhaps even a small chance. If you manage to get to the door before the ritual is complete, ye might be able to stop her. I doubt you will but our Dark Mistress does enjoy her games.”

“This is not a game!” Mythal roared, angry, burning tears screaming at the edge of his eyes. “You sick sons of bitches brought me into this world because you thought I was a toy, a pawn and I shoved those thoughts right back in your face. And now because you’re a sad sack of sore losers, you’re gonna destroy the whole world for what – revenge? I won’t let you. I will stop you, even if I have to give my life to do it. I’ll break every last bone in your body and then march right up to your ‘Dark Mistress’ and tear her head off. You… you all have haunted me for years. You’ve made a mockery of any kind of life I could have. Fine; I’ll make a mockery of your entire plan, of your entire ‘kingdom’.” Mythal was shaking as he finished, his hands practically vibrating loudly from the mixture of anger, confusion and fear running through him.

Archimedes tucked his staff under his arm and brought his hands together, giving the man a round of applause. “Very nice speech, very heroic. I’m pretty sure yer father said somethin’ similar to us when he rescued ye all those years ago. Like surrogate father, like son. But don’t pretend that ye love any of these humans, boy. Yer my son and I know what comes from my heart lies in yer’s as well. Unless…” He paused, his eyes flicking to the house behind him and widening in realization. “Well look at that. The broken toy broke through the spell and found love. Oh that is fresh.”

Mythal shook his head, confused. “Spell? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Oh by the Dark Mistress herself, you dun’ even know,” Archimedes burst into a fit of laughter, covering his mouth with his hand as he stared at the God Slayer. As he settled down and dropped his hand, an impish smile tugged on his face. “Think about it, boy. You’ve hated people as long as you’ve been breathin’. The very idea of love must leave ye shakin’ in yer boots, like yer worst nightmare came real. Ye think those are just t’ings that came from your anger? Nah, laddy,” he said, reaching up and touching his chest. “That’s Kingdom Darkness, that is. Hatred and repulsion of the light, airy feelin’s are o’r bread and butter.”

Mythal gasped softly. It all made sense in that moment. His hatred of humankind, the fact that he pushed everyone away, the feelings of love and care that made him fear almost for his very life. They were influences bred into him by this man, by his father. He continued to gasp softly as he fell to his knees, his mind wiping of all thought else. He sat there for a few moments, breathing heavily as he pulled himself out of his spiral, catching his spirit before it fell too far. Not here, not at the hands of this asshole was he going to be depressed into futility. “I’ll stop you,” he said softly, his head rising to meet the Archangel’s gaze again. “I’ll stop you.”

“Well, if ye really believe that, ya got…” Archimedes said, bringing up his wrist and looking at the blank space condescendingly. “About eight hours before the ritual happens. And I ain’t tellin’ ya where that’s happenin’ so ye only have one option here, laddy. Either way, methinks this is the last time you and I’ll be chattin’. It’s been… eye openin’,” the Archangel said with a wicked grin, waggling his eyebrows before black, smoky tendrils rose from the ground. They wrapped around him and pulled him into an oval of black and purple magic, a portal of some sorts. Before Mythal could even speak a word further, the portal melted down into the ground and disappeared.

Leaving him alone, trapped in time for the moment, with his thoughts.