Light in the Darkness Part 2

Mythal didn’t know  how long he was stuck in place, how long time had been frozen for. His entire body felt like it had lost its energy, everything limp and hanging from him. His thoughts were stuck in a loop of racing too fast and not existing at all. All the information that Archimedes had bestowed upon him, all the terrible things he had taunted him with and the revelations he had dropped, swam through his fluid mind like fish in a sea. How had it come to this? Right as he was beginning to push himself to a point of pushing back against his fears, to fighting against the current that ran inside of him, the entire damn broke and immersed him in the hellish waters of contempt and despair. The archangel truthfully had earned his title this day, by devastating his blood child’s hopes and dreams in one swift stroke.

His eyes lifted from the ground mournfully, slowly tracing up the world until they were looking into the dark woods beyond. The darkness was there, swallowing up the trees, bushes and living creatures within the forested area right beyond. That was his life; cast in a never-ending shadow that seemed intent on swallowing any goodness or tangible form. There was Faera, her claws stretching out to tear at the world around him and bring it into the ocean of darkness from whence she lived and flourished. There was Archimedes, the Archangel that was his father apparent and master of manipulation and devastation. Whatever manner of creatures lay just beyond his eyesight, mere hours away from infecting this world and wiping it clean of all life?

Perhaps the most devastating news was the knowledge that his life was based on a lie. He’d settled into the belief and feeling that he despised humanity. He’d always believed that he saw through their outer forms and into the darkened, corrupted husks beneath that were so greedy, manipulative and savage. And in that knowledge came the understanding that he could never truly love one of them because he would never be able to see past those flaws to even consider them worth his time while he, at the same time, felt the same abhorrent nature towards himself. This world was useless and its inhabitants more so. But to discover that his feelings and emotions had circumvented that; that he was capable of feeling love for a human, a wonderful and truly spectacular woman, had given him a glimmer of hope. But it was a ruse – his self-deprecation of his own race and fear of affection had been side effects of his birth, genetic tags that his father had put into him when he bred his mother.

Now the day had come that he attempted to bypass his decades-bred feelings and it could very well be his last on this planet. He let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, his vision becoming as dark and bleak as his future was. His future though – just because it had to be his last, didn’t mean it had to be everyone else’s. He’d grown stronger since he had decided to open himself up to the members of Fairy Tail. He’d become a more caring and giving person, one that cherished life, thanks to Serilda. Had this fated moment come even a day before, he may have been so destroyed by the news mixing in with his own shame and hurt that he wouldn’t have the strength to carry on. He’d just sit back and wait for the world to end. But his conclusive choice to rise above his weaknesses, to break through the walls preventing him from living his life fully, had been a… god send, in a perverse way. As his eyes slowly reopened, the devastation that had been wrought into his world had faded and there was a new fire burning within. His hands still shook slightly but it was small, almost indecipherable. He took a breath once more, inhaling the fresh air that somehow still revitalized his lungs despite the world in its frozen state.

As he stood to his feet, he could feel the world beginning to press forward. The wind brushed against his cheeks gently, like the gracious touch of a lover. The rustling of leaves, the creaking of the branches from the trees and the sound of Gren finally being able to relieve himself all filled his ears as time released itself and returned to its normal flow. The Star Wolf finished up and gave a little shake of his rear, panting happily as he turned and wuffed lightly at Mythal. The God Slayer bent down in a crouch, holding out his hand for the pup. It hustled over to him and pressed its face against his fingers, demanding affection. He gave it – gentle scratches around the ears and under the chin.

“Good boy,” he said softly, a weak but firm smile on his face. The pup wuffed once more as Mythal rose and clicked his tongue, signaling to the hound that it was time to follow. The two of them went back into Serilda’s house. The hound immediately went back over to the chair next to the couch and curled up on its seat, resting his head on his tail and getting himself comfortable. The God Slayer had stopped right before the coffee table, still pushed unceremoniously out of the way, and looked at Serilda, still slumbering away on the couch. His gaze lingered for only a moment longer before he began his search. He knew Serilda liked to write in a journal and, as such, that meant that she must have had some writing utensils around the house. After a precarious search, he managed to find himself a pen and some blank pieces of paper. Four of them were needed, as far as he was concerned – no more would truly care what he had to say. He wasn’t even sure the other three would either but he felt compelled to still pen something of an explanation.

He decided to start with the simplest one first and would work himself up to the last one. With the pen in hand, he began the first letter.

Sorano,

I know you probably don’t know me, or at least really. I was a Fairy Tail wizard who joined only a few months ago, having wandered off the street desperate for jewel and some warm food. I never expected to use your guild for more than a means to get paid and then eventually move on without concern. I’ve never been one for making connections and I wasn’t about to try and start with a wizard guild that, frankly, I didn’t care about. Sorry if this seems blunt; I don’t really know any other way to write it.

But much to my surprise, I found I started to bond with people. It started with getting assigned a mentor in Nessa and branched out to Markus, who I found a kindred spirit in. After that, I found myself… strangely comfortable within the guild. Not even comfortable but enjoying myself and my time there. I made friends, I worked with other members who I never thought I’d spare a thought on. Before long, I had become more open and social than I had ever been before. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time but I never stopped trying to open up my connections and see what it got me.

This makes this last part very hard to write. Though I’ve come to care for Fairy Tail, I might even say love, it seems my time as a member has come to an end. Perhaps I should have known it was coming all along but I guess I had a hope that I could live in the fantasy for longer. I guess I can’t. You once signed my name on a job that, for lack of a better phrase, embarrassed the hell out of me. I did it still; I’m not one for refusing jobs, even if they do require me to wear a… tutu. But you claimed that you owed me one because of it. I’ve never really considered calling in any kind of favor before but like I said, I’m learning a lot of things aren’t what I expected. Do me the favor and just relieve me of my position, no questions asked. It’s time for me to move on and I don’t want anyone worrying about the where’s or the why’s. I went away and that is that. I don’t plan on coming back but I wanted to write this so you know how much I appreciated my time with Fairy Tail. There are things about it I don’t agree with but the people within are good people, people I truly enjoyed. If it weren’t for Fairy Tail and it’s members, I don’t know how well off I’d be today. So thank you… for the chance to be a part of the guild.

-Mythal

Well, that one wasn’t as easy as he had originally hoped. Talking in depth about Fairy Tail had struck a chord in him and he had to take a minute to calm his heart, as it was pounding in his chest like a drum. He took a breath and folded the letter up, putting it aside so he could start the next one.

Nessa,

This isn’t the way I would do this if I had a choice but I don’t have much of one. You deserve better than this and I’m sorry you’re not getting that respect. I know I’m not your mentee anymore technically but that doesn’t mean I don’t still consider you someone I could truly learn from. When we met, I was a wreck past hope. I was more than happy to lay in my darkened waters and just be there, without anyone else bothering me. And that last thing I wanted was anyone ‘mentoring’ me in anything. As far as I cared to know, I was the only one with my particular skillset and was more than happy to just live in that. But I was forced to become a mentee and I’ll admit – I was not thrilled with finding out it was you at first. You were so spirited, so friendly and bubble, so… young. It seemed like a terrible fit.

But you proved me wrong. You were all those things but they weren’t just this show of face, this façade to hide your darker, more selfish thoughts. You were genuinely a good person that cared about everyone, even those ones that you just barely met. Your attitude was… infectious, to say the least. I’m not saying I’m the nicest guy around at all but you helped crumble the walls, weakened them so I could start feeling nicer to the other people in the guild, and to the people outside of it. I don’t have any family – or kind of do, it’s complicated now – but you very quickly became like my sister. I could never really decide between younger or older because while you have your younger moments, you also have these moments of absolute maturity that surpasses even the wisest people. I know I didn’t spend a lot of time with you but I want you to know that for the amount of time I did, I will cherish it.

Now I have to ask a favor, one I hope you’ll take seriously. Don’t look for me. I’m going beyond where anyone can find me and chances are I’m not coming back. I don’t want you falling into any danger for my sake when I’m doing what I feel I need to do. Please just continue to live your life, because I know you’ll make it a wonderful one. And give Markus a chance – he’s not as bad as he seems.

Take care,
Mythal

He knew that one was going to hurt; not just himself but Nessa too. Though their time together as friends had been short, he knew she was the kind of person that formed bonds and held them tightly. This letter was going to sting but it would be better than his disappearing without any answer at all.
He set that letter down and to the side as well, sighing as he did so. Then came the next one.

Markus,

I know this kind of thing isn’t really high on your list but I still felt you deserved something. Since we met, you’ve been a constant ally, a reliable guild member and a friend I knew I could trust. Though we came from different backgrounds, we had a lot more in common than any I’ve found in this world. You understood things about myself that many wouldn’t and still don’t to this day. Having that kind of connection was important, because it helped me come to grips with what I am and what I can do. It helped me grow stronger and with Nessa’s help, made me a better person. I won’t make this long and tedious, because I know you’re not really a fan of that kind of thing. But I’m leaving and I wanted to at least say goodbye in some shape or form. Take care of yourself and Nessa for me, will you?

Thanks,
Mythal

Markus was fairly detached from the emotional scale, from what Mythal could gather. A long, lengthy letter probably wasn’t best suited for him. Short and to the point would be better. He put that letter aside and then sat there, staring at the last sheet of paper. The pen hovered just above the scrap, not quite touching but hovering just above. He knew this one would be the hardest and yet, even after the build up, he couldn’t just dive right in. He took a moment to breath once more, relaxing himself. Eventually, after several long minutes, he finally began to write.

Serilda,

I know this is going to look bad, especially after everything that happened last night. Please believe I didn’t mean to do this and if I had any other way, I would do that without hesitation. But my time has run out it seems and now I’m left with the daunting task of looking at my mortality in weight against the rest of the world’s. But despite all of that, I would give anything – anything in the world – to have one more night of just me and you together. I wanted to tell you everything once you woke up but I’m afraid I’ll be gone before that happens. But I don’t want you leave you wondering about all the missing gaps between my words, thoughts and feelings. And now that I have a better understanding of why my feelings have been the way they are, I find it’s much easier to just say them outright.

I love you. I know that seems ridiculous coming from a man who once despised anyone even touching him but… it’s true. The more time we’ve spent together, the more you’ve earned my trust, my respect and my friendship, I found myself more and more drawn to you. That night at Oak Inn, I knew I couldn’t leave and walk out of your life, nor could I let you leave mine. There was something special between us, something I chalked up to companionship that I’d never known. In a way, that was true as well but it blossomed into that much more. I realized it the night I went to your parent’s house for Christmas, after you’d given me the chance to bond with Gren. I just… knew.

And I was afraid of it. Not because of any kind of commitment issues but a real, deep fear of the feeling itself. I worried about opening myself up to that kind of connection, of letting you in where I’d never let any before. I worried about how dangerous my life was and what it could mean to you if I got you involved. I thought that I was too damaged to actually feel love and when I did, I still felt I wasn’t worthy of it – that it and I didn’t belong. As it turns out, that wasn’t something I had made a conscious choice about; it was a choice that had been made for me before I was even fully alive. Being here with you tonight, after everything, made me realize that I shouldn’t let my fears rule me. I have to face them full force and either rise to surpass them or at least give a last stand worthy of singing about.

And that’s why I have to go. Some things are going to happen that have to be stopped. I’d tell you what they were but I know if I do, you’d come and try to find me. And if I’m being completely honest, I don’t see this as something I’m coming back from. If I do, then know that I’m coming back to you having finally buried my past for good. But if not… I’m doing this because if I don’t, you might get hurt. This world could suffer and that’s not a chance I can take. If I’m wrong, then I’ll deal with that no matter what happens. I’m sorry I had to leave this way but I don’t know how much time I have before things get bad. And after all the things that happened to you last night…

I wished I could tell you how much I love you in person. Maybe I’ll get that chance. But if I don’t, know that I was ready to fight back all my fears and worries for a chance to be with you. I didn’t care how hard it got or how much it drove me insane – you are worth it. I’d’ve found my way to Hell just to punch Hugo in the face for how he treated you. Never doubt you’re a person that deserves love and care and tenderness that anyone in the world can provide. You were never the problem, I was. Please take care of yourself and be safe.

Forever yours,
Mythal

Gods, how it hurt to write it out and not say his thoughts directly to her. He had to stop several times to collect himself, his emotions threatening to boil over. Once he finished the letter, he had to sit there for a few minutes, the reality of everything he had written settling into his bones. Once that was set, he quickly scribbled the names on the fronts and folded the letters. Three of them were tucked into his jacket and the other left in his hand, hanging loosely between his fingers as he walked into the living area. He set it down on the coffee table with her name facing her, hopefully giving her opportunity to see it as soon as she woke up. He then walked over to the couch and leaned down, wrapping his arm around her and holding her. He breathed in her scent, memorizing it so he couldn’t forget it and then kissed her gently on her scalp. Somehow the tears still managed to stay within, even now. He gave her hair one last stroke before he let her go, now ready as ever to go. He went over and picked Gren up, holding him tucked in one arm. He groaned a little in protest but then snuggled up against him to get more comfortable. He looked around once more and then turned to head for the door. If he didn’t leave now, he would think twice and then probably not leave at all. And that possibility was too unacceptable.

So he went, locking the door behind him as he went. The sun still hadn’t risen much as he walked away from her cottage, his mind exhausted but determined. Eight hours, Archimedes had said…

He didn’t have much time at all.

“This ain't one of your best ideas,” Mythal said simply, sighing gently as he walked along. The desert heat bore down on him, the oppressive warmth already wearing him down. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, wet rivulets drenching his flesh and pooling over his eyebrows. He reached up and brushed the back of his hand across, wiping away the compiled salt water. He shook it away, splattering the droplets onto the cracked, dried ground below. But already the sweat was beginning to rise to the surface of his flesh, ready to repeat the process. And so the constant cycle kept on while he traveled across this barren land. The trip had been far easier the last time… but perhaps that was because he had been ignorant of the danger that lay on his path.

His journey across the desert was perhaps the longest part thus far. Everything before seemed to run together in a blur of motions, sounds and images. He had left Serilda's home rather quickly, walking to the train station with a strange calmness. Despite what awaited, there was no trepidation as he boarded the early morning train, finding himself the only rider. It seemed appropriate -- he was heading towards doom on a solo mission, having laid his goodbye before Serilda on her coffee table. Three more farewells lay in his pocket and the other was tucked into his arm. He'd just started to bond to the young Star Wolf pup, the young one starting to truly understand the commands he gave. It would be most heartbreaking to leave the hound behind but he couldn't bear bringing him; it was a death sentence and he wouldn't allow it. He sighed and looked out the window, losing himself in the passing world outside the glass.

Faera had been a nail in his side since his birth. And now, after everything, she was ready to cast him aside and repeat the same ritual that had nearly made him hers. Some poor child, bred like he had been, was hours away from losing his soul and becoming the avatar for the violent Goddess. He would be the one that brought the destruction of the world… unless Mythal stopped it. But how the hell was he supposed to stop it? He was only God Slayer in name -- a false title given to those who had the magic capable of causing injury to deific and legendary beings but how many had actually been slain? It would be one thing if she were here, in this world, but he was required to go to her world? This… Kingdom Darkness dimension? Home turf advantage was a strong suit, especially when it came to battles. He was going in blind, ignorant and brash while she had the upper hand of her own design, her own fashioned realm. But he had to try -- he couldn't just let her win without some kind of revolt. In such situations, he imagined others would be asking for help from their friends and allies and perhaps he should have considered that too. But he felt, in his gut, that this was a fight he couldn’t possible win. And with that feeling, he couldn’t just ask anyone to throw their lives away.

All the information that had been pressed upon him in such a short amount of time swam in his mind, like pictures in a lacrima projector. Friends that he’d made in the recent months since his joining of Fairy Tail and the image of his adoptive father, still smiling as he was wont to do on many days. Then of his newfound enemies; Archimedes, who claimed he was his birth father. He wanted to deny it still but even that he felt was true in his gut. There was no reason to lie about that so brazenly. Then there was the shadow of Faera, pressed against the backdrop of the doorway he had seen. The mastermind behind his plightful life, unwilling to even show her features to him beyond shadows and darkness. Then through all of that was Serilda’s face, pushing the rest away as his memories of her flourished in his mind. There was no doubt he was going to miss her the most but no matter what, he would find a way to stop this world from ending. He couldn’t let anything happen to her, not anymore.

Before long, the train came to a stop in Magnolia. His eyes refocused, having been lost in his daydreams as he sat there. He left the station briefly, long enough to walk down the street to head to the guild hall. The sun was only just beginning to peek over the horizon, streams of light splattering across the buildings around him. Few were beginning to rouse from their rest, the early risers that started their days at dawn so they could be prepared to tend to those that rose later. He got a few nods and murmurs of hello from some of them as they prepared their papers and shops and what have you and he returns their gestures, if a bit sullenly. It was odd; knowing that there was a very real possibility that this could be the last day any of them saw the sun rise. The chance that Armageddon was only a few hours away sent ice water through his veins and made him walk a bit faster.

The guild hall was open and lit, as many came and went on jobs at all hours of the day. He walked in, the sudden emergence of the light causing Gren to groan slightly and stretch in his arm. He smiled at the hound as he walked up to the desk, his presence getting the attention of the fairies working behind it. “This is for Sorano,” he told them as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the first letter with the guild master’s name on it. “And one for Markus and Nessa too,” he followed up by handing over the next two parchments, watching as the fairies looked at each document curiously. “Please give it to them when you see them. Thanks… for everythin’,” he finished the thought a bit ominously. The fairies seemed keen to inquire at his words but he was already turning and leaving, heading back the way he came. It would be the last time that Mythal would step foot inside the guild hall as he was now.

He barely remembered the train ride as he took it back the way he had come, though stopping several stops earlier. Oshibana always looked bright and wondrous in the morning light or perhaps that was just the introspective side of him that was taking in everything around him, under the impression he never would again. By the time the train had come to a stop, Gren was beginning to wake up, his little eyes blinking open and staring up at the man holding him. He wiggled gently in the warm embrace of his master before finally wanting freedom, rolling out of Mythal’s nook and dropping onto the cushioned seat. There he shook himself and licked his fur quickly before he followed after the God Slayer as he departed the train.

It was a short walk to his home, to which he was quick to open and enter. He took a deep inhale of the place, not only to set the smell of the rich home in his memory but to see if Susano was around. It seemed he wasn’t, as his scent was there but quite aged. After last night, he probably went to do more exploring to ease his mind – he was known to go off and wander for days on end, as he hadn’t seen the world in quite some time. He had forgotten to give the demi-god a letter of his own but he had a feeling that Serilda would be the one to bear the bad news to him on that regard. But that didn’t sit right with him so he went upstairs to his room and find another pen and paper and quickly jotted down a brief but meaningful farewell to the midget. It would be enough for him; he was leaving the home to him, so he’d have a place to stay after his long journeys. It seemed this place would become a haven for those that enjoyed wandering. That thought made him smile a little.

He gathered up Curse and attached it to his back, the weapon locking itself in for the long trip. He also grabbed the keysword he had taken from the masked man after his original dive into the dark realm’s entryway. He felt no need to bring anything else with him so he headed back downstairs, where he found Gren sitting on the couch and eagerly wagging his tail. It was time to say goodbye.

He knelt down before the hound and smiled at him. “This next part I have to do myself. I don’t know if I’ll be back but… Seri will find you and take care of you,” he said softly, reaching out and scratching the hound’s head gently.

Gren’s tail stopped suddenly and his face lost his joyful luster. In fact, it seemed that the Star Wolf had picked up on what Mythal was trying to say. He whined and stepped forward, trying to climb his little paws on the God Slayer’s chest. As much as he wanted to hold the hound, he had to let go now before it got even more hurtful. He rose and moved towards the door, the hound eagerly following after him and wuffing softly. Getting through the door became a challenge; Gren did everything he could to try and wiggle through the opening and follow after Mythal, forcing the man to have to pick up the pup and slide him several times back into the house before he finally managed to get it shut. As he locked it, he could hear the hound’s paws eagerly scratching at the door, trying to tear through the wood and get to his master. Mythal had to fight back tears as he lay his hand on the door, his last silent goodbye to the hound he had grown to love as well.

His walk to the train station was a bit slower, the reality of everything finally settling in. As the next train rolled into the station, he trudged on board and dropped into a seat, his eyes staring ahead almost in a trance. He seemed about ready to let himself just pass out there, exhaustion finally kicking in, when he heard a commotion down at the end of the train car. Curious, he leaned over to look down the alley of seats, seeing several people pointing out the window and tracking something apparently on the platform outside. Maybe it was some big romantic reunion that people were getting caught up in? His stomach dropped as fear that Serilda had woken up early and managed to track him down sent bile into the back of his throat. He rose from the seat and moved towards the door, now wanting to see just so he could confirm that wasn’t the case.

As he reached the doorway, Gren came flying through, planting his paws on the man’s chest and knocking him to the ground. There he stood on his master’s chest, wuffing angrily and excitedly, both proud of his tracking and furious at Mythal for leaving him. All the God Slayer could do was stare up at the pup, who equally stared right back down at him. “Gren…” he said softly.

The hound wuffed a few more times, ranting at him in a language he definitely didn’t understand. But he knew the tone – he was angry that he had been left in the house, abandoned by the man who was supposed to be his master when he needed help the most.

Mythal shook his head. “Gren, if you come with me, you could die,” the God Slayer attempted to explain.

The hound growled at him in resistance, daring him to try and put him back at the house. How had he gotten out in the first place? As the train lurched and began to move, Mythal’s window to put his Star Wolf back was beginning to close. But in all honesty, it was already closed and locked by the pup himself. Mythal sighed and shook his head. “No idea where you get this hardheadedness from,” he said to the pup, meeting the hound’s gaze. There wa a long moment of inner dialogue between the two it seemed before the God Slayer finally smiled softly. “Alright. At least with you there, I’ll feel pressured to stay alive,” he said.

That was all Gren needed to flip back to his excited self, his tail immediately wagging again. He walked up the man’s chest and licked him right across the face, a show of trust and encouragement. Then he bounded off the man and ran over to the seat he had been occupying before, leaping up onto it and settling himself down.

Mythal sat up on the train’s floor and looked over at the Star Wolf. He had remembered a moment ago that Star Wolves didn’t bond easily – in fact, creating a bond was a once in a lifetime thing.  If that bond was broken, the hound would eventually wither and die out as well. Curse those damn books he’d been given at Christmas… but bless them as well. He didn’t like this, bringing the hound into a possibly winless situation but it seemed he didn’t have much choice. The pup had given about as much lip about it as Serilda would have, had she been the one leaping through the door. If anything, keeping the wolf alive would drive him to fight smarter rather than make stupid mistakes.

The ride to end of the rail was about an hour and a half and Mythal took the time to sleep, regaining his energy as best he could. Gren kept guard of him while he did, happily planted next to him and watching out the window at all the scenery passing back. Once the train pulled in, they began the long trek into the barren land; the ground cracked and dried up without moisture to feed it. And so that’s where they found themselves, having traveled near an hour or two into the abusive field of endless death. The sun was up now and the reflection of it bouncing off the ground made them feel like they were standing in an oven. Mythal’s comment about this being one of his worst ideas brought a small wuff from Gren, who was still walking right beside him. He would pause every few minutes to shake his entire body, rinsing his sweated fur across the ground. Then he would keep on going, somehow still in good spirits despite their predicament.

Mythal’s gaze caught sight of something in the distance and his veins felt the chill run through them. The Ravines of the Lost were minutes away, judging by the sight of them, and already there was a coolness that tinged the air around them. The closer they got, the less oppressive the sun felt. By the time they were walking up to the gorge, it felt more like a fall day than anything else. The God Slayer looked down into the crevice like he had before, his eyes attempting to pierce the veil of fog that filled the earthly divide. Just as before, he could only see down the walkway to a certain point before it faded into the mist. He took a deep breath and looked over at Gren, his tail raised up to a near point and his fur practically standing on end. “Last chance, bud. You can wait here if you want,” he told the hound, giving him an out.

The Star Wolf looked up at him and then back down into the cavern, a low growl rumbling out from his throat. Making his decision, he looked back up at Mythal and wuffed, getting into a stance that showed he was ready to go. Say what you will about the hound – no one could ever claim he wasn’t brave. Mythal bent down and rubbed his head once more before he took an encouraging breath for himself. Then they began their descent down onto the ramp. It was still as steep as it had been before but the foot notches in the stone, worn down from people using them, provided perfect platforms for balance. Gren followed after the man, bounding from one flat surface to the next so he didn’t slide down the entire ramp. The fog rose above their heads as they continued downward, the sky melting into the white clouds. Soon the world around them became impossible to see, save for the swirling clouds. But Mythal followed the same path he had gone before, remembering each step and turn he had made prior. Soon he found himself on the same platform from before. The flat, stone stage was just as unnerving as it had been before but this time, Mythal came with an experiment. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the keysword, flipping it around until he was wielding it much like his own weapon. As soon as it was properly in his hand, the end of it began to glow. The ground shook softly but not like it had before – there was no feeling of nausea or uncomfortableness in his senses. A ring of light formed around him and Gren, surrounding them on all sides and began to increase in strength.

“Stay close to me, Gren,” Mythal told the hound, the order earning him a wuff of acknowledgement. He felt the Star Wolf press against his calf, following the God Slayer’s words to a point. As the light swallowed them up, Mythal was forced to cover his eyes from its brightness. He felt the wind rushing around them loudly, tearing at his clothes viciously. The way it was moving, it was almost like he was in a free fall but he could still feel the flat, solid surface beneath his feet. Then just like that, it came to an abrupt stop. The God Slayer slowly opened his eyes and found only darkness around him. Not in the fashion that made him feel blind but literal lack of color and light all around him. The key had opened the pathway to the realm right before the door. He was back where he had fought Key.

He glanced down and his fears rose suddenly. Gren was gone – the little pup nowhere to be seen. “Gren?!” He called out to the darkness, whipping around to search for a sign of the Star Wolf. He saw nothing forever in each direction, not even a hint of the doorway that led to Faera’s realm.  He rushed away from where he had been, running in each direction in a wild hope that moving would present some kind of evidence. “Gren!!” He called out even louder. No… this couldn’t be. Had the hound been bounced back when he entered the realm? Cast out because he wasn’t meant to be here? He felt his stomach surge into his throat, his confidence suddenly waning.

As he turned once more, he finally saw something. Where had once been nothing, now stood the elegant, pristine white door that led to Kingdom Darkness. And standing on the dark ground, only yards away from him, was a woman. She was dressed in a red and black kimono that covered her entire torso but gave way to a frilly black skirt on her lower half. Red, plated gauntlets covered her hands for protection against sword attacks. She had heeled boots that were covered in a fabric that ran all the way up to her thighs. A monstrous white mask covered her face and there was an odd looking box strapped to her side, looking like a multi-slotted sheath. Indeed, there were a few sword handles sticking out of slots as well. Her jet black hair ran down behind her and swung down near her ass, nearly as long as she was tall.

So they’d found someone to replace Key. Mythal’s hand reached back and quickly pulled Curse out from its resting spot. He stuck the keysword bac k into his bag and tossed it aside for the moment as he brought his sword forward, pointing it directly at the woman. “Once chance to leave, lady. After that, I’m cuttin’ through you to get to that door.”

“Mythal Ragnos,” the woman said behind the mask, her voice deepened somehow by the covering. “You’re a lot scrawnier than I imagined. But I suppose that doesn’t really matter. Dead meat is still dead meat,”

Mythal scoffed. “Last masked freak that tried to kill me down here wound up on the wrong side of a beatin’. Do yourself a favor and walk away. I only have one beef to settle today and it ain’t with you,” He twisted the blade so the rifle barrel popped out, pointing directly at the woman. It was his last warning to her before he decided to take her out.

He could hear her sigh from behind the mask before she slowly reached up to her mask, planting both her hands on it. Slowly she pulled it free from her head and down, revealing her face behind it. The God Slayer’s heart stopped as he looked upon the façade of Vriko, who looked so much like… him. Indeed, all of her features were akin to his, save for a feminine touch added to them. “Wh… what?” he gasped out.

She scoffed. “What, Archimedes didn’t tell you? After you got away, they decided to try again – plant another seed, make another vessel. Only it turns out, your birth was a one-time ‘miracle’,” she said, putting up air quotes as she said it. “One of a kind Mythal was the only one capable of housing Faera because of some stupid spark. Luckily, that spark can be transferred – you just need to die,” her gaze was ice cold as she said the last part.

“Why… why are you doin’ this?” He asked, finding his words again. “Faera wants to destroy the world. She’s going to remove you and use your body. That can’t be what you want!” He shouted at her, as his mind still tried to process the fact that this woman was quite clearly his sister.

“I don’t give a damn about this world. Everyone in it can die for all I care. All I want is the chance to murder you with my own hands and then ring that Archangel’s and bitch’s necks together. After that… who even cares.”

“Why? Why do you want to kill me so bad?!” Mythal demanded.

“Because I have been compared to you for years!” She roared back at him. One of her swords shot out from the box, soaring through the air in front of her. She leapt forward after it, her hand reaching out and grabbing it by the handle to arm herself. As she came within Mythal’s proximity, she swung the weapon at him, the crimson blade meeting the steel of the God Slayer’s. The sound of the two metals scratching against one another screeched in the space between them as Vriko slammed her feet down on the ground, pushing against him. “Since I was born, all I’ve ever heard is how I’m nothing compared to you. How you were everything and turned your back on the future for Faera and her minions. I needed to be better; it was beaten into me every day and night. Mother would never stop reminding me that I was just the backup plan, I was nothing compared to what you were supposed to be. So to answer your question, brother,” she hissed at him, her own crimson eyes flaring up. “I want to kill you to prove I’m the better one.”

Before Mythal could open his mouth further, she roared at him. “Flame God’s Inferno!” From her sword came a violent twister of magic, the intense flames rushing out at him with such force that he was sent flying backwards.  The flames licked at his hands, leaving burns and scorch marks over his fingers. But he slammed his feet into the ground as he came down and launched himself back at her, swinging his weapon forward.

Her speed in storing one sword and taking out another was incredible – the fastest he had seen. As his weapon came around at her, she had another weapon up and ready for him. “Metallic God Slayer’s Reinforcement!” She shouted as she brought her weapon up, blocking his swing. The two swords rang out once more but this time the whine came back, almost like it was echoing back from a wall. The strength of the combined hits shot back into Mythal’s weapon, once more sending him flying backwards and now disarming him.

He skidded across the ground, Curse sliding away from him as well. Vriko pulled out another sword and chucked it towards Mythal’s sword like a boomerang. “Glacier God’s Frost Tomb!” she called after the sword. It stabbed into the ground and immediately erupted into a pinnacle of ice, trapping Curse within its frosted walls. She turned and just barely had time to get her current sword up to block Mythal punching at her. But his strength far outweighed the temperament of the weapon and the sword shattered into pieces, sending the woman flying backwards.

The God Slayer followed after her, chasing her down as she soared through the air. His magic flowed through his body at an alarming rate, boosting his natural speed to unnatural heights. He caught up to her midair and planted his fist into her stomach, slamming her into the pitch-black ground below them. She let out a cry of agonized pain, her eyes flying wide as her stomach turned over itself and her spine nearly bent in half from the impact. She grit her teeth as she saw Mythal winding up another punch and pressed the button on her weapon box, bringing another sword out from its depths. “Sky God’s Whirlwind!” She called out, twisting the weapon almost like she was turning a lock. Wind erupted from the sword and slammed into Mythal’s chest, lifting him up into the air violently. He was spun around wildly, whisked in a clockwise rotation.

This gave Vriko time to get to her feet, a bit uneasily. She growled and pulled out another sword, flipping it into her other hand so she could duel wield the katanas. She leapt into the wind tunnel, the magic attuned to her and allowing her to fly upwards like a bird on the breeze. She rose above Mythal’s spinning body and swung the new weapon down upon him. “Earth God’s Rock Prison!” She cried. Black boulders materialized out of the air and slammed into Mythal’s limbs, dragging him down through the storm. When he hit the ground, he hit it hard and let out a cry of pain. The rock’s buried themselves in the dark ground, immobilizing him on the floor.

This was it. Vriko hit the ground running as the tornado came to an end. Swords flew out of her weapon box and into her hands, only to then be stabbed into the ground. She raced around Mythal’s body, planting weapons one after the other in specific locations. Thirteen of them were put down, making a circle of embedded swords. As she came to a skidding halt, she thrust her hands out in the direction of Mythal’s form, her fingers splayed out. “Godly Union!” She called out. Each sword began to glow in its respective color, the magical energies within them building up. All at once, beams shot towards the center of the circle right over Mythal’s body, converging into a mass of colors and power. They reached their breaking point and exploded in a mighty tower of magical dispersal, the God Slayer’s agonized yell muted over the roar of the detonation.

Soon the pillar of light faded, leaving a billowing trail of smoke in its wake. Vriko stood there, her hands still thrust out, as she stared into the pitch-black swirl of smog. As it began to lighten and disperse, she spotted a shadow lying on the ground. After a few moments, the smoke had fully cleared and she could fully see Mythal, lying flat and unmoving on the ground. His clothes were tattered, his body bruised, beaten and burned. His eyes and mouth were closed but his chest was rising gently, showing that he was alive – if only barely.

Vriko took a shuddering breath as she pulled her final sword out from the case, the deep black blade seeming to glow against the dark backdrop. She walked slowly over to the man’s unconscious form, standing over him with the weapon in hand. She turned it over slowly, the point directly over his heart. “Finally…” she said softly, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Finally she had done it. Finally she would find her peace.

But just as she pulled the weapon up and prepared to drop it into the man’s chest, a hand came out and caught it, stopping it in place. Her eyes, widening in anger, snapped to the sight of Archimedes standing there, smiling at her. “What?!” She demanded.

“Ye know, lass… I decided to drop by and see how the battle was gonna end. If I’m bein’ honest, I expected him to kick yer arse in. But I guess all the news he’s gotten over the last couple of hours have sent his head a’spinnin’. Imagine my surprise that you managed to best him,” the Archangel said to her, continuing to smile. “You’ve earned this win.”

“Then let me finish this!” She yelled at him, attempting to pull her sword free. “I can take his power and we can end it all.”

“Yeah, about that… I’m thinkin’ the plans have changed,” Archimedes gloated.

“What?!”

“Ye beat him, sure… but you ain’t a flame against his roaring inferno. Only reason you got the upper hand was because his heart is weak right now. If I hadn’t softened him up for ye… well, you’d be the one lyin’ there,” he said, nodding to Mythal’s form. “Point is, methinks I misjudged his capability of bein’ a proper vessel for our Dark Mistress. I think with a little exposure to his other home, we might be able to get him back proper.”

“No…” Vriko said softly, shaking her head. “No, that was not the plan! I’m supposed to be her vessel after I kill him!”

“No, ye was always a backup. T’ings change and when the original plan looks to be active, we can dismiss our plan b,” the Archangel’s grin twisted maliciously before he suddenly pulled on the sword towards him. Vriko was taken off guard and fell towards him, only to be met with a knee to the jaw. She fell back, her hand flying to her mouth as the intense pain burned all across her face. “Yer a magicless whelp who shoulda never been born. For Faera’s sake, you need weapons made of magic to even keep pace and even t’en, you fall short.” Archimedes scoffed and tossed the sword beside her, the weapon clattering loudly. “Get outta here. You’ve been replaced. Take yer swords and go find a hole to hide in. Once Faera arrives in this world, she’ll remember what you’ve done for her and will grant you a swift death. That’s the least yer dear ol’ da can do for ya.”

Vriko had no words, her eyes wide and brimming with rage, ache, surprise and pain. After everything, after all the sacrifices she had made – she was cast aside like a tool that had broken right at the end of a project. All she could do was watch as Archimedes picked Mythal up and hoisted him over his shoulder. With one last glance at his daughter, the Archangel snapped and the large door to Kingdom Darkness began to open, opening the path for him. Vriko watched as the two of them entered the realm, fading into the shadows beyond and as the doors slammed shut, her cry of pain faded into the darkness around her, her streaming tears melting into the nothingness of the floor.

The door to Kingdom Darkness was closed and all Vriko could do was stare at the massive doors, her eyes red and veined from crying. Her jaw had a lump the size of a ball, right where her father had kneed her in the chin.  She’d fallen to her knees as soon as the portal had closed itself, her anguish escaping her in the form of running tears and cries and curses. But now her tears had run dry and all that was left was the fiery coal of vengeful thirst within her belly. She wiped her face with hand, her fingers closing around the moisture and pressing it against her flesh. From there she stood up and grabbed the sword closest to her, twisting it around and thrusting it back into the case. She walked to the others, still buried in the dark floor in their circular shape. Each one was plucked from its spot and put back in its proper slot, the woman rearming herself after her full frontal assault.

As she picked up the last sword, her eyes caught sight of something in her peripheral. She turned her gaze to find Serathar standing there, now nearly in the spot she had been to confront Mythal. Her own blood froze as she looked at the angel, for he looked more serious than he had ever before. He normally had a rather neutral face that hid many of his emotions behind a veil of disinterest. But he was frowning now, a sense of dreadful seriousness tugging down on his façade. Before she could open her mouth to speak, the man reached down to his hips, where his two guns were holstered. He flipped off the straps keeping them in and began to withdraw them, even as Vriko stumbled back a step or two…

---

Something was amiss. Ruzatz knew it for sure now, after everything he had experienced recently. First his run in with Serilda Sinclair here in Hosenka, a few weeks back. He hadn't thought too deeply of her significance until she had mentioned Arthas, one of Ozorith's many character names. Not only had she encountered him but he had been following her. In a better situation, he may have found a way to keep her safe from the Prime Sin of Wrath but alas the man was incorrigible with his pranks and games. Mess with his fun and one might find themselves on the bad end of his rage. All he could do was hope that Serilda’s time as his target of enjoyment was short lived.

That didn't seem like it was going to be the case. The revelation that the Voidwalker's love was a Fallen God Slayer -- one tied directly to Faera -- proved that there was a plot afoot. The Prime Sin hated plots; they weren't clean, they caused pain and endangered more lives than needed. Yet what could he do? Serilda had insisted he leave her be. He had gone out of his way and element to seek out Mythal and send him to her in her time of need. He'd done all he could and now he was out of moves. So he went back to his guild, distracted himself with the perverse members of his harem as well as his wife.

But it wasn't even a full day later when the wind changed again. He could feel it, like the natural colors of the world growing more vibrant in his gaze. In times like this, he knew it was best to act however his gut told him too. For once, he asked the guild to remain proper, to keep their passionate actions delayed for a time. They cleaned the main hall so that it was presentable and then waited. He wasn't sure how long he waited along with his wife and a few of the guild members. Time seemed to move painfully slow right up until he felt her appear outside the guild hall. Her emotions were worse than before -- fear and panic had wrapped themselves around her woeful love. But there was something else there he couldn't quite sense from this distance. He waited until she came to the front door and opened it, his eyes already there to meet her gaze.

No. This couldn't be. He stared, his eyes widening, as Agatha ran to the woman and chatted with her before embracing her. Ruzatz rose from his seat slowly, his vision never breaking as the Voidwalker finally met his look. His distress was evident on his face, even as she thanked him for his kindness. “Whatever kindness I managed seems to have gone awry,” he said sadly. “You're his Sword.” It was obvious now; that is why Ozorith was so interested in her. She did have a fiery rage, such a strong emotion that he had been on the receiving end of. The other Prime Sin must have seen the potential in her and started vetting her. But why had she agreed? She seemed so indignant against him and he had a feeling that the seduction of power was not a vice that lived brightly within her.

Yet his answer came a moment later as she put forth her favor she needed from him. His eyes widened and he sighed as understanding washed over him. “Mythal… shit.” Kingdom Darkness was Faera's realm, her personal charge that had been given her when time had nearly begun. It was a vile world, made of the inky darkness that had come from the birth of existence. He would know -- it was, after all, the mirror and opposite of his own element. His golden gaze lifted to meet her's, his eyes sad and weighty. “Of course he sent you to me. Faera uses darkness blacker than any known in existence and I use a darkness that is tinged with light. She is my opposite, from element to standards. Oz would know this too and I'm sure he saw that as a benefit for his case,” he explained, shaking his head mournfully. “I'm sorry Serilda. I can send you there but I won't. If Mythal Ragnos had been taken there, he is already dead. And I won't damn another to death on a suicide mission.”

---

Mythal was very not dead, despite Vriko's best attempts. But he was not, by any means, safe from danger either. Reality began to return to him slowly, the rushing sound of consciousness ringing in his ears. As he awoke, he groaned softly, the soreness that filled his body the first feeling he felt. His eyes fluttered softly as his mind started back up. A single eye opened, surprised to find the world was… shadowed. Everything was darkened around him but not fully pitch. There were… vein-looking roots that rose out of the walls around him, giving off an ominous blue light. It gave him just enough illumination to make out the creases in the brick, the worn and cracked surfaces all around him. He groaned again as he attempted to move, wanting to get up and look around. But as his torso leaned forward, he found his arms unwilling to budge. The more he started to feel, the quicker he realized his arms were lifted up on either side of him. Bound? He found his strength and gave his right arm a tug, the limb refusing to move. There was no rattle of chains but he was certainly hindered.

A heavy metal clunk caught his attention, his eye snapping to the source. A flash of brief light and then more, the golden color filling the room and temporarily blinding him. He flinched, turning his head away from the illumination. But he heard the chuckle, one that was now all too familiar to his ears.

“Well good mornin’ laddy. The lass did such a number on ye we thought you were a breath away from death. Yet here ye live, though a little worse for wear.” Archimedes’ grating treble caused Mythal to groan softly in annoyance.

“I must be dead because this is definitely my hell,” he said, his voice dry and cracked.

“Not yet lad. In fact, you surprised us all by survivin’ Vriko’s onslaught. She’d been trainin’ for years to kill ye and even with all of that, you’re still breathin’.” The Archangel was thoroughly amused, chuckling away as he walked forward and stopped before the chained up man.

Mythal’s head snapped up. “Vriko? That’s—“

“Yer sister, aye. May have lied to ya about the brother but ye do have a sister,” he explained before giggling a bit. “Or well… had.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, she failed big time in takin’ care of ye. Frankly I’m glad of it – right annoyin’ pest she was. Poor without a magical drop in her blood so we have to go through all this effort to get her special swords to kill you and she can’t even manage that. I stopped her from finishin’ the deed because frankly, I still think ye are our best chance for a vessel. My underling should have put her out of her misery by now so… sorry ye never got a chance to meet her proper,” Archimedes said, shrugging.

“You abused her…” Mythal said softly. “She said you all abused her, turned her into a weapon just to kill me. Now you’ve killed her for what, annoyin’ you? She was your goddamned daughter!” He snapped at the man.

“She was more me mistake than daughter. Shoulda thrown her in the river the minute we discovered her lack of magic but… our Dark Mistress had hope. Unfortunately Vriko didn’t reward that hope. But it doesn’t matter anyways; our original vessel has been returned to us and has even come home! Oh, how rude I am. I didn’t even give you a proper tour!” As he finished his words, Archimedes held his hand up and snapped, the sound echoing despite the small space.

Mythal’s entire body was spun around suddenly as the walls gave way, plucked apart by some magical force. As the bricks spread away from one another, Mythal was treated to the sight of Kingdom Darkness – or at least this portion of it. There was no ground from what he could see, merely an empty void of black that fell as far as the eye could see. Odd, black and purple growths sprung out from the shadows, blooming into bulbous tops that pulsed with dark purple and blue lights through similar veins. Long, winding paths of gray-toned dirt slid through the air all around and headed off into different directions. The floor beneath him broke off from the rest of the ground and turned as it floated into the sky, giving him an ample view of the tall tower that was apparently his temporary home. It seemed more like natural rocky growths than anything else; curling stone ‘fingers’ rose up from the base towards the sky, with pillars of differing sizes jettisoning out from the ground and the base itself. As his eyes tracked the tower upwards, he was gifted with the sight to what was the night sky here. A plain black veil with purple gems embedded within the cosmos, each one twinkling like the stars in his own world.

“Admittedly we’re not very deep into the world and nowhere near Sanctuary Castle. But quite the sight, isn’t she?” Archimedes asked as he floated in the air beside him.

“Yeah, very depressin’…” Mythal said, glancing at his hanging arms. Now that he was in a more lit area, he could see the shadowy chains that were strapped to his wrists and arms.

“Soon our Dark Mistress will inhabit your body and all of this… will bleed over into your former world,” Archimedes explained, reaching down and squeezing the God Slayer’s cheeks between his fingers. “But not after we’ve broken ye down a little. Worn your spirit down to naught.” With the scene shown, Archimedes brought them back to the prison cell, attaching them back in with nary a crack to show they had left.

“She may be able to take me but you ain’t gonna break me, Archimedes,” Mythal said when his mouth was released, the Archangel starting to walk towards the door.

Archimedes stopped,  his back still to the God Slayer. When he turned back around, he was wearing a smug and malicious grin. “Don’t be so sure about that…” He brought his hand forward and waved it over the spot right in front of him.

The air shimmered and out of the air came… Gren. The hound looked like hell had ran him over and then some. There were dark circles under his little eyes but he managed to open them and spotted Mythal. His tail pitifully wagged behind him as he spotted his master and his pawns started to move, trying to get him to his feet. But he lacked the strength, instead doing a sort of crawl across the bricks.

“Gren!” Mythal cried out, thrusting his body forward at the hound but still chained up. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

“Nothin’… yet. You see, Kingdom Darkness is not for mortal souls. Only ones allowed here are Faera’s legion and the dead. You who has a bit of the Kingdom’s taint in ye won’t have issue but this wee pup here…” Archimedes clicked his tongue. “He ain’t long for this world.”

The Star Wolf didn’t seem to care that the world around him was draining him of his life. He continued to crawl towards Mythal, only stopped when the Archangel reached down and tugged him back by his tail, which brought a whine from the pup.

Mythal’s entire body was shaking with rage. “Send him home. Get him out of here! It’s me you want, just send him back!” He demanded, yelling despite how raw his throat felt.

“No can do, laddy. The door is shut. But weren’t you just sayin’ how we wouldn’t break ye?” Archimedes’ smile twisted again as his stuff appeared in his hand. He brought the end of it down and pressed it against the wolf’s back leg, not quite puncturing the flesh but enough to pin him there. “How ‘bout this… I’m gonna cut off all this pup’s legs right in front of ye. Sure, the air will pro’lly kill him before then but I imagine you’ll still enjoy me cuttin’ up his carcass. Sound like a plan?”

“NO! Archimedes, don’t do this!” Mythal pleaded with the Archangel, pulling against his constraints. His eyes met the hound’s, who somehow still managed to look happy he had found the God Slayer. How long had he been wandering about, trying to find his master? How long had they been separated and now he was relieved to see him, willing to die in this world for the opportunity to see him one last time?

“Let’s start with this one,” the Archangel practically whispered, just as he started to push down on the pup’s leg.

The yell that came from Mythal was unlike anything that had ever come from him before. His muscles expanded as he pushed against his chains, the shadows cutting into his wrists and causing him to bleed. The Archangel was laughing along with the scream, more than entertained at the sight of the man suffering and railing against his imprisonment. But that laughter stopped as the unmistakable sound of the chains cracking and then finally snapping broke through the room, with the God Slayer pushing himself to his feet. His right arm was back and forward before Archimedes’ could truly understand it, the fist smashing into his stomach with such force the room shook. There was only a brief moment of absolute silence and pause before the Archangel was shot through the ceiling, the strength of the attack sending him flying almost out of a cannon. The entire building rumbled as the Archangel broke through layer after layer of the prison.

But Mythal didn’t care about that. He was falling to his knees, pulling Gren up into his arms and holding him close. “Gren, please…” he whispered, two even rivers of tears flowing from the corners of his eyes. He had to do something – he couldn’t let his hound die like this. But what could he do? Archimedes’ had said nothing can live in this world, save for those that belonged to Faera or…

His magic. He gasped as he lifted his right arm away, looking at his hand. Could such a thing work? He’d never heard of any animal that possessed any kind of Slayer magic beyond dragons. But if they could use it, could others? Would he just hasten the pup’s death by trying? He tried to think of other options, tried to weigh what choices he could possible make and found himself with nothing. He had no idea how to get out of this realm, no idea where the door was… if he tried to make a break for it, Gren could die before he even makes it out.

His magic flowed over his hand, answering him with the only option he had. He focused it into his hand, compiling it into an orb in his palm. It contained the smallest amount of his magical power he could use to create such an orb and even then he was afraid it was too much. He brought his hand around to the dog’s face, his entire arm shaking in fear. “I’m sorry…” he said softly to the hound before he gently opened his mouth and forced the orb inside, closing his jaws after.

He held the hound to his chest as the magic began to take its effect. Gren’s small body began to jerk, his muscles spasming all at once. He whined and squealed and attempted to wiggle out of Mythal’s grip. But he held him fast, rocking him gently and praying with all of his heart this worked. Then the dog went completely limp in his arms, the breath slowly exhaling from his lips. The God Slayer grit his teeth, his mind completely going blank as the tears fell about his cheeks.

Then an inhale. A deep, strong inhale. Mythal’s eyes opened as wide as plates as he looked down and watched strength return to the hound. Gren’s little eyes opened and he started to wiggle again, this time to get his bearings. Mythal set him down on the ground, the Star Wolf taking a few steps and stretching. He gave a shake of his head and then turned back, his face returning to its normal, pleasant state. He bounded over to Mythal and pressed his paws against his chest, leaning up to lick on his face. Mythal could have died, he was so happy in that moment, holding the pup’s head to his as he let out a long and shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me, bud,” he said to him.

The hound wuffed and licked him across the eyes. The God Slayer chuckled and pat him on the sides. As he lifted his head, it suddenly dawned on him that they weren’t out of danger yet. “This ain’t gonna be a walk in the park, Gren. I have no idea how to get out of here and everythin’ in this place is our enemy. But maybe, if we don’t do anythin’ too stupid, we can get out of here.” The hound wuffed again, with a bit more strength this time. Mythal smiled briefly before he turned his head. He could hear footsteps coming from the door – several pairs of feet heading towards them. Seems like Archimedes’ hasty exit had finally been noticed. “Alright. You ready to kick some ass?”

The hound jumped into a more aggressive stance, his low growl already rumbling out of his throat as he faced the door. The God Slayer rose to his feet, his magical core already beginning to spark back to life. Lost within Kingdom Darkness, trapped in a prison with who knows how many guards and minions, with no idea what direction to go in. It would be one of the hardest fights of his life. But he was ready for it and as the first few angelic soldiers came pouring through the door, he didn’t even wait a beat to charge into them.

Ruzatz sighed softly as Serilda confirmed what he already knew, perhaps needing to hear the words herself. Reality had a funny way of tricking the mind right up until the person acknowledged it. She told them that had she any other option, she could have taken it rather than indebted herself to the Prime Sin of Wrath. But that was part of the game, wasn’t it? Ozorith knew exactly whose path to follow that would lead them to a dead end, with no other direction to turn. He’d always excelled at it and he showed, even now, that his mastery hadn’t waned in the least. He felt for her truly but his empathy wouldn’t allow him to make a hasty decision and break through the veil so he could send her to Kingdom Darkness. If Mythal had been taken to the other reality, it was ten to one he was dead already.

She insisted against his words, telling him not to write off the God Slayer yet. While the Prime Sin of Lust wished he could simply flip a switch and do that, it wasn’t that easy. Faera had always been one to get what she wanted and if Mythal was something she felt was hers, he would become hers. She continued to persist, stating that she deserved the chance to at least make an attempt to save him, claiming Mythal was strong enough to hold the line, even for a little while. It still didn’t seem that simple and his opinion was proven true as she stated that Mythal wasn’t wanted dead after all – in fact, he was meant to be her vessel.

His eyes widened and his heart went to his heart. “No… not again,” he said breathlessly, a true wash of panic rushing over his features. Mythal was that child? Why hadn’t he sensed it? Why hadn’t he put it together? If that was true… “If he’s there, it’s over. She’ll already be preparing the ritual, she’ll take his body and…” Wait, his inner self told him. Kingdom Darkness was vast and the Goddess’ castle was nowhere near the door. Even with their speed and strength, no angel of hers could reach her kingdom in less than a day’s travel at best. If he was there, then…

She continued to revolt against his judgement, explaining that she couldn’t live her life knowing that she would have been there and at least took a chance. If he refused, she’d be enslaved to the Sword position for as long as Ozorith wanted her to hold it, living her life in miserable existence one day at a time. She even went as far as to say that stopping her wasn’t saving her from death but damning her to a worse one. She would rather dive into the darkness and perish there than to lose the one, small possibility that Mythal was alive and capable of being saved. And as she rounded her thoughts about, stating that it wasn’t his right or choice to make about her death, he sighed and shook his head. But there was a small, sad smile on his lips as he brought his hand over and rested it on Agatha’s. “What is it with beautiful, stubborn women coming into my life and making my life complicated?” he said in a gentle tease, his tone far more genuine and complimentary than the words were. “I’m not going to send you in blind. If I’m going to do this – and I’m going to catch such hell for doing so – then I need proof that Mythal is even alive. If he is… then I’ll rip open a whole just large enough to let you in.” There was no argument in his tone – that was his decree and his requirements to break his word.

“Luckily, my love is an expert at scrying. We probably won’t get much of a clear picture but… well, to be frank, if she scry him and finds nothing at all, we’ll know the sadder truth. Any sound or brief flash of a picture will be enough to convince me.” He squeezed Agatha’s hand. “I trust you have something he’s touched or held for a long period of time? Piece of jewelry, article of clothing… even something as seemingly useless as a key?”