Ebusuku’s PoV - The Maze
The dead Ogre is several long corridors away before my eyesight stops making progress adjusting to this place. The grey roughness of the floor is unsurprising, but the grey walls aren’t bleak. Veins of metals swirl in the stone, showing me pictures at every turn. The amount of detail is unsurprising given who likely created this maze. Their choice of subject is something different.
Repeatedly the walls show Titan’s Sigil, an image of a complex maze descending into a flat surface. Next to the latest Sigil, the metal lines show Farhad rising in a spin from the ground in a chamber I recognise. The chaos-chewed furnishing of the Efreeti Lord, his body sprawled with a cratered wound having opened his head. The perspective shows his private rooms from my eyes just after a spell had struck. My little kill-thief had already sprung well clear of its impact point.
The crossed spears on the walls evoke memories of our first fight. I’d sought to draw out killing him, only for us to end up fighting together to get free of that Lord’s palace in the City of Brass. A wave of guards surging into the room had died at my hand, and he realised I wasn’t the deceased Lord’s vengeful security. The deadly grace had already enticed me to learn more. We’d escaped the palace together, having fought clear of the wards and guards. I’m not sure I’d change a thing other than ensuring I savoured our time together more.
The cool metal in the walls is perfectly smooth to the touch as I trace the lines of his face. A hammer beat pulses over me, and as it fades, I hear a high thin scream. Even without Tremor Sense, I can tell its direction amid the snake nest of passages around me. The noise sounds panicked and desperate. I don’t know if it’s a trap, but it might be a chance at information if nothing else.
The screams continue through twists and turns until the passage finally hints at the first chamber I’ve seen. In its centre are six smashed fruit trees around a broken fountain. Despite the darkness, the trees would have been tall enough to brush the ceiling some 7 meters overhead. Past the debris, two Ogres stand to the left of a third elbow-deep in a hole near the wall’s base. A few metres to the trio’s right is another exit. The piping scream lets loose in a whistling timbre from tiny holes in the walls, only to be drowned out by a hammer’s strike. Rumbling laughter from the Ogres becomes apparent as the sound dies out, their massive noises laced with cruelty.
It would be a simple matter to reach the passageway. I slip closer to their position as the hammer’s noise covers my approach. Blade drawn, I wait among the branches, watching them for any intent to leave, and when the hammer strikes again, I rush in. A quick stab sinks the blade deep into an Ogre’s thigh, close to his groin. Stepping past his staggering form, I twist the blade free to open a gaping hole. The surge of familiar energy from Death Strike hums through me. The hammer’s echo is not enough to hide his scream, which draws the others’ gaze. If I still had my speed, they’d already be dead by the time another stab lands—severing the tendon behind the second’s ankle. I dive among the fallen trees as he tries to take a step. A thick branch shatters under his fall as the third starts to his feet.
Rolling past the fountain, I snatch up a rock and—at the echo’s end—I toss it across the chamber. The clattering noise draws his attention, and he charges for it, stomping his way across the fallen trees. Wood pieces spraying with every stomp dosn’t deter me from pursuing. As he steps around the last tree, I plant the blade between the vertebrae below his lowest ribs. The body falls away, a puppet with its strings cut. I don’t go for a killing blow with his last friend who is far from mobile, but moving again. I shift position from one fallen canopy to another as the last foe lumbers towards me from his dead kin.
The hobbled Ogre staggering through the tree’s debris isn’t expecting the branch tip I drive into his ball sack as I lunge up from my crouch. Jagged wood crunches hard against bone as the pop of shattered wood reverberates through my hands. In the position he falls, it’s simple to use a splinter from it to open his throat.
The last Ogre tries to drag its body around to grab at me, but I slip by and perch on its back to pull the sword free. The metal of it vibrating, he thrashes about, rubbing bone against its edge. Turning on his side, he lashed out, and I throw myself away. Fingers hit my arm but don’t grasp in time, and I dart back in again. Another strike is all I need. Flopped onto his back, the blade sheathed through bone behind his ear reaches whatever he uses for a brain.
Once all three are finally dead, I retrieve the blade and move to the hole in the wall. Crouching puts me at eye level with it, letting me see a tiny grotto extending deeper into the wall than I’d expected. Glowing fungi growing around streaks of moisture shows me a girl—who looks human—pressed tight against its back. Her features are delicate, and her brown hair goes well past her shoulders, covered with dirt. She’s wearing a filthy smock, stretched tight by her knees tucked up inside the grey material, its hem draped over her feet.
“How did you get here?”
The girl frowns at my question, but her voice is shaky when she replies. “I climbed in the hole. How else would I get in here?”
I’ve never been sure around children, but given that her screams sounded afraid, I hold my tone soft. “This maze, not where you are now.”
“Why do you want to know?” Her question stumbles out with unsteady haste.
“Curiosity.”
My reply just gets a grumpy sniff before her voice steadies its fragile state full of edged shards. “Curiosity killed the cat. I’ve no reason to trust you. Tell me how you got here first.”
“No reason to trust me? I just killed three Ogres trying to get you.”
“There were four. One must have wandered off after they killed Nathaniel.”
Four dead doesn’t mean there aren’t more, so I shift position and set my back against stone where I can see both entries. A strike echoes through the room and I wait for silence before I answer her. “I’ve killed four so far: these three plus one in the corridor.”
“How do I know you don’t want to kill me yourself?”
The sharpness has me wondering how many Demons or Devils she’s dealt with to have that attitude.
“Child, I’ve no need…” I cut off and answer her honestly. “You’ve been through a lot, but I could actually fit into your hiding spot or use a tree branch if I wanted to hurt you.”
“That’s mean!” The girl’s protest steadies her voice, but it still sounds fragile.
“Towards you, it would be, but life can be mean. How about we start again? My name is Ebusuku; what’s yours?”
The girl’s hesitation lasts longer than the silence between beats allows, and I have to wait until the second echoes have silenced before she replies. “Nathaniel called me Pip, but I’m sure that isn’t my name. How did you get here?”
I’ve told so many lies over the years, but right now, I’ve no intention to lie to a child—even if it could be a deception. “I got offered freedom from a situation I’ve wanted to leave for a long time. How did you get here? How have you survived?”
“That sounds like a poor offer if it brought you here. I died, I think. There was pain, blackness, and then I was by the trees. The trees’ fruit grows fast, and the fountain’s water stays fresh. So I’ve had plenty to eat and drink.”
Her brief tale uses up all the time we have, and I settle in, expecting the strange conversation to last many hammer beats.
“Will you come out and talk?”
Pip just narrows her eyes and flips the middle two fingers of one hand at me. “You’ll just betray me like the other strangers. You can leave now.”
“Strangers?”
“Those like you and Nathaniel. Your type comes through, and when you leave, I’m left behind.”
“How did they betray you?”
“Didn’t you listen? They left me here! They either died from the monsters, or they went downstairs and didn’t come back. I’m tired of being here. I just want to leave.”
“Have there been many?”
“Dozens, hundreds, I don’t know; I stopped bothering to keep count.”
“Did they all die like Nathaniel?”
“I don’t know! Some took the stairs down. I don’t know what happened down there.” Her yell isn’t angry but sounds edged with frustration all the same. I hear her fidgeting feet rubbing the cave’s dirt floor.
“Is that the way out?”
“I’ve never been down them, but the top of them is just a wall of white flames when the hammer is busy.”
“You seem to know a lot about the maze.”
“If there aren’t strangers in the tunnels, the hammer’s quiet. When it’s still, then the monsters disappear and we all explore and trade tales.”
“All who?”
“Children like me, well, sort of like me. Sage is the oldest of us. He says he’s counted thousands upon thousands of the strangers. There are marks on his grotto’s walls for each time the hammer’s sounded out with their presence.”
“Are there many children?”
“Dozens. We have our own hiding places in the maze. We get sent to them when the monster’s come out. Normally, there is a longer break between strangers in the maze. This time was different; after Nathaniel died, the hammer barely paused a double beat and then started again. The Ogres hadn’t even disappeared, and… my trees are broken.”
Her words come out in a thin wail, and she cries as the hammer starts again. Sneaking a glance within, I find her face buried in her hands, shoulders trembling as tears flow down her arms.
“Is it alright if I come in there with you?”
The question gets her to look at me, and snuffling, she grimaces. “No, you stink. You’ve got blood all over you.”
“Alright, Pip, would you like me to pass you some fruit at least?”
“Yes, please, but wash your hands first. I don’t want yucky blood on my food.”
Water continues to flow over the fountain’s broken edge, but when I try to scrub blood and gore off my torso, it only gets worse. A quick attempt to adjust my state makes my skin ache painfully, so I give it up. I scrub my hands within the icy water and rub them around the grass that somehow grows here between the tree stumps. Picking a half dozen of the apple-like fruit, I carry them back.
I’d expected to find her sheltering at the back; instead, as I come around the branches, she’s visible kneeling just inside the hole.
“You look all blood-smeared. Why are all your bits and pieces showing?”
“Bits and pieces?”
“Your breasts and your….”
A frantic gesture towards my crotch and her face going red makes her look so cute.
“It’s cold, so clothes would be good, but I don’t have any and can’t make them.”
Her face is practically glowing red when she takes the fruit from me and then offers one back.
“Would you take me with you? If I tell you where to find the stairs?”
“I’m expecting the challenge in here to be extreme. So I don’t know what waits down there if it's only Ogres up here.”
She doesn’t reply straight away as the sound hits again and takes a bite from an apple. The bite mark and her teeth look normal for a human, and she chews quietly as we wait. A sweet scent has me reluctantly take a bite despite the foulness of the dead nearby. This time the fruit sits easily in my stomach. The first swallow remains pain free, and hunger pangs that had been growing worse prompt me to make quick work of it.
“I don’t care what’s down there. I don’t want to stay here anymore, I want out.”
“What about the others?”
“Why? Would you take them all?”
“The more that come with us, the more dangerous it might be.”
“Sage says that none have ever offered to take anyone out. Would you deny them the choice or chance?”
Amdirlain’s words echo in my mind at the child’s question. The way her only condition had been not to break her trust. What would she want to do?
“Neither, but I have one question.” Pip looks at me suspiciously, so I continue on, ignoring the urge to tease. “How much fruit should we take along?”
She smiles nervously, and when she slides out of the hole, she looks torn between hugging me or keeping clear of the blood on me. Pip’s first steps display a bad limp as her left foot drags along in an unbalanced gait, and I get a glimpse of a malformed foot. Her gaze locks on mine, her lips already twisting in a sneer that stops as I hold out the sack I’d take from the first Ogre.
“I’ll start gathering. Would you hold the bag?”
Pip looks between me and the bloodstained sack. “Only if you wash it first.”
“Point.”
* * *
Amdirlain grumbled as she considered the surge of Charisma in her Profile and assigned points to even out her Intelligence before she put the rest into Willpower. Though there had been no activity from Jinamizi’s Portal, she’d kept a concealed watch for nearly an hour. The random thought of needing a mental Disneyland caused her to snort quietly. Finally relaxing, she resumed her Succubus form and drew the Vrock’s spear from Inventory to examine it.
Analysis
[Necel of Vulnerability
Melee Attack Power: 250
Crafter: Master Artificer Nelion
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Details: When struck by this spear, the target must resist a Magic rating of 500, or it will reduce their defensive capabilities by 20% for five minutes. Multiple strikes can extend the duration of the effect but won’t increase vulnerability.]
Necel is the Elvish word for thorn.
Amdirlain flowed through some attacks before returning it to Inventory, and a shiver caught her by surprise as she realised she was procrastinating returning.
“I need to stop. Lêdhins is grinding, fine, but it doesn’t make it my immediate priority. I need to do the important things for me that I can handle now, then I’ll put my grinding shoes back on.”
Concentrating on Planar Shift, she pushed it to deliver her close to Duskstone instead of just randomly on the Elemental Plane of Earth. Though the cavern she appeared within wasn’t familiar, pushing it to deliver her near a specific location had an obvious effect.
[Planar Shift (Self) [B](13->15)]
The song Planar Sense returned was strong enough that she was likely only days away on foot. Considering her list for a moment, she sent two important messages.
“Aggie, congratulations High Priestess. I know you’ve been working hard. I hope the High Traveller Prestige Class and those base classes all let you find happiness. If you contact Clan Gildenshield in Stoneheart, they have an account in my name. In it, you’ll find funds available to yourself and Eivor for establishing places for communities. Make sure you take care of yourself as well.”
“Eivor, I never expected the Ki I passed you to have the effect it did. I hope your children bring you happiness, and thank you for naming your newest addition after me. You brought tears of joy to my eyes when I learnt her name. If you contact Clan Gildenshield in Stoneheart, they have an account in my name. In it, you’ll find funds available to yourself and Aggie for establishing places for communities. Keep yourself and the little ones safe.”
She brushed a hand across her face before shifting her appearance to that of an auburn-haired Wood Elf. The shadow vines formed into traditional Elven clothing.
“Sidero, it’s me J. Got rid of the last name I gave you because of the other connections it had. I chose the name Amdirlain. You’ll think it’s a mouthful, I know, but I love it. I will be following the route through Hades to Hell from the Astral Plane’s Portal in a day. Find me along that path; otherwise, I might have to drop into Dis or beyond to find you. Look for a ranga Wood Elf, wearing dark green clothing and no apparent weapons. I’ll send another message when I see the outer fortifications.”
Picking a rock perch in the cavern she’d landed in, Amdirlain drew out the Infernal Folio and spent the time she’d allowed herself memorising the protocols she needed. Senses peeled for trouble approaching; it was almost disappointing when Time Sense let her know that she’d quietly used up the wait. Amdirlain set one layer of concealment after another in place until—having some level of confidence—she sent her message.
“Shifting to the path’s Portal. Hope you are on the way.”
A Gate spell set her beside the Portal. She’d targeted a transition point from the Astral Plane. From this side, it was a pool of white energy, but on the other it would be as grey and as bleak as the surrounding Plane.
The grey and blighted land was as dull a landscape as she had expected. She kept her pace modest, scanning the terrain around her for any sign of trouble. Only hours into the journey, she saw a mounted group of twenty Hell Knights on the road ahead—their armoured steeds were jet-black nightmares. True Sight showed her the flames hidden within the horse-like steeds, and flames replaced the black manes and tails visible to normal sight.
Soul Sight showed her the Souls of the Damned knights bound within their armour. The armour was only vaguely humanoid, but they now wore what Hell provided, regardless of their original Soul’s species. What the folio hadn’t told her was Hell had promised each of them a position of power. The knowledge points she’d spent had revealed that information, and being a typical Infernal play on words, their place had their thoroughly Damned Soul in someone else’s power. The riders stopped a good fifteen meters from her position, the lead rider only a horse’s length ahead of the rest. Enchantments wrapped around him linked back to somewhere within Hell.
Red flames burning inside the visor were all she could make out of its features. “Why do you walk the supplicants’ path?”
“I am seeking an audience with Sidero, direct daughter of the Kyton’s Great Mother,” Amdirlain replied, keeping her tone as formal as she could.
“Continue.”
The group moved on, and Amdirlain remained still as they passed. The lines of steeds split around her, a plume of black smog coming from one nightmare’s nostrils when it snorted alongside her. Every snort from others brushed the dull air with flames that smelt of brimstone.
The outer fortification of Hell’s pass was just visible to her when a figure clad in red came over a ridge in the road ahead. Even in the bleakness of this place, Amdirlain had to force herself from smiling. When they came close enough for Amdirlain to make out the chain shroud, she mentally crossed fingers and hoped.
Analysis
[Name: Sidero]
Halting on the road, she waited for her approach and watched the chain’s irregular movements that didn’t align to Sidero’s own. To True Sight, they blazed with energy, and within the sullen furnace, Amdirlain could make out crystalline runes sunken into the metal. Solid sulphur-yellow eyes were visible through the chain shroud that covered her; other than the skin around her mouth, only her arms and feet were visible. There wasn’t the pain she’d felt when trying Analysis on those more powerful than her; it just didn’t provide any further information.
“Crazy cunt, get us out of here now.”
The smoky growl was harshly sibilant and didn’t match the voice she remembered, but the words in English and exasperated tone she managed did. Amdirlain didn’t hesitate in gating them back to the Elemental Plane of Earth, setting them in the cavern she’d left only a day earlier.
“Such a Westie mouth you have bitch.” Amdirlain said as she stepped forward to hug her, but Sidero glided away, leaving her blinking unhappily in surprise.
“Are you immune to cold, Amdirlain?”
Amdirlain winced and shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
Sarah’s lips twitched in amusement and she said, “Then don’t touch the chains, you’ll lose flash-frozen chunks of flesh. Nice concealments, by the way; I can’t taste anything Abyssal about you.”
“Taste? You have an oral fixation now?” joked Amdirlain.
“Oral, vaginal, anal, anyway I can orgasm is fine with me,” Sidero said, dramatically dipping her hands in under the chains at her waist.
“Bitch!” huffed Amdirlain good-naturedly, rolling her eyes at the show Sidero was putting on.
Sidero stopped in mid-motion and gave her a sceptical look. “You didn’t get rid of your V card with your puppy yet?”
“Sarah!” Amdirlain exclaimed, motioning for her to talk to the hand.
Sidero’s serious expression—even under the chains—was clear, and Amdirlain saw her friend there. “No, not Sarah, Sidero. Whatever happens, I’m never going to be Sarah again. Change is a constant, Amdirlain.”
The chains vanished utterly, and a nude Kyton covered with scarification confronted Amdirlain. A winter-bare tree in the middle of her torso raked bare branches under her collar bones and pointed cruel lines along the curve of her breast towards her nipples. The trunk ran down her midline—until waist level—and turned into a root system, the main tap root carved as if it continued into her vagina. Cut down each leg were flowering vine patterns; each flower had an eye in its centre—some of them appearing human, most clearly not. Lifting her gaze followed the scars on Sidero’s arms, making out winged crystals and various jagged monsters, inter-spaced with runic patterns—those even cut into flesh, showing energy within. Her features were so close to the Sarah she remembered, so close the differences were unsettling. The sullen-yellow eyes tried to draw her gaze, but her sharp nose, and stark cheekbones, along with her scarred bald scalp, added a cruel vibe more menacing than her chains.
“Fuck, you sure took a step up from a tramp stamp.”
“The only thing I could draw on was me or flayed skin; I opted for myself,” Sidero replied, shrugging. “Now, do I get that hug?”
“Kinky bitch,” Amdirlain grumbled, recognising her daring tone. She stepped forward and hugged her regardless, laughing as Sidero pretended to wiggle like an excited puppy.
“Woof, baby, woof,” teased Sidero, her smoky voice turning husky.
Amdirlain gave her a light push back and stood frowning at her, the stern expression not matching the laughter in her gaze. “You were pushing your boobs into me. Where did I get you from?”
“Memory going, is it? I tipped you onto the grass because you wouldn’t get off the see-saw; you’ve been following me like a lost puppy ever since,” replied Sidero. The chains appeared to shroud her again.
Amdirlain gave her a frown, fighting to recall kindergarten before she sighed and moved on. “Do you have Inventory?”
“Yeah, sitting at one-forty tons.”
Amdirlain considered her Profile for a moment and looked at her wide-eyed “What have you been doing?”
“Hauling around corpses and loot, obviously,” retorted Sidero with a worryingly sharp smile.
“I’m sorry.”
Sidero frowned at her, rage shining in her eyes. “Don’t you dare beat yourself up over him. You’ve nothing to be sorry about, so never apologise again. That fucker that sent us all here; him I want to make scream, for a lovely long time.”
“The Titan already did that for us. I didn’t give Torm all the details. He’s sitting on a spike bleeding shards of Soul out his arse that form baby Dretches.”
“Oh, his butt babies make siege fodder for teams to butcher. That’s just lovely,” Sidero said, rolling her eyes.
Amdirlain gave her a concerned look and didn’t let her sarcasm divert her. “If I shouldn’t say sorry, why do you seem so on edge?”
“I told you not to come near Hell; I used favours getting released from work I’d been told to finish,” seethed Sidero.
Amdirlain winced at the fierceness in her tone. “Need anything to smooth the ripples?”
“Think I can buy them a box of chocolates?” Sidero asked, fixing her with a hard look.
“Meow. Just can the sarcasm? I’ve got some Balor wings. Don’t think they’ll care about Abyssal Coins. A magical spear?”
“I won’t can the sarcasm. I only use the fresh stuff.” Sidero said dismissively and chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Show me the wings?”
Amdirlain laid the wings out, and Sidero looked them over, keeping her chains well clear.
“Mature tier Balor from the size, useful. Neatly severed, very fresh, got to love Inventory. Sure I can have these?” asked Sidero, running a foot across the membrane.
“All yours. I can find some more if I find I have a need,” assured Amdirlain.
Sidero nodded and relaxed as she made the wings vanish. “Gifting them will mend some bridges.”
“Can I say sorry for not listening? I needed to see you, not just send another one-sided message.”
“Needy child,” huffed Sidero tolerantly.
“Please, you were the one that talked us both into Cadets. Tell me that wasn’t you being insecure about being the only girl in our grade wearing green on Friday,” chided Amdirlain, the memories replay not having faded.
Sidero smirked but made no move to deny it. “The good old days, shared experiences build bonds.”
“Didn’t know you were getting into bondage that early,” teased Amdirlain with a wide smile.
“Yes, well, now whips and chains really excite me,” Sidero breathed, running a chain through a loop formed between thumb and forefinger. “Oh... yes… they… do… oh… oh….”
Her antics earned her a flat look from Amdirlain. “I’ll ask about Gaius.”
“Don’t; it’s none of your business. You’re not responsible for saving everyone. He made his choice—and in the end—I made some of my own. We all pay for our own decisions. You should put some concealments up. No one should come looking for me, but just in case,” suggested Sidero, as she gestured randomly about the cavern.
Amdirlain set several spells in place to hear, to conceal from scrying as well as to deaden their conversation from travelling before she spoke again. “So, exchange rate for the dominance play?”
“Oh, the puppy has been sharing stuff. Two hard orgasms per hunting session.”
Amdirlain frowned the moment Sidero used puppy again. “Once I’ll let lie, but his name is Torm, not puppy.”
“That’s good to know,” Sidero replied, her suddenly smug smile making Amdirlain’s eyes narrow. “Your Torm is an experience-thief. They were less happy with me venturing into the Ice after he showed up. I’ll forgive him—since it gave me time to work on learning aspects of Artificer.”
“What did you tell them to let you roam away from Hell?”
“I told them I needed to go deal with a fool seeking me and that I wanted time to gather materials for projects.” offered Sidero with a shrug and ignored Amdirlain’d mock glare.
“Did you learn anything more about Rach?” Amdirlain enquired.
“Isaac, not Rach, best get in the habit of using it,” cautioned Sidero.
“It’s a boy’s name,” Amdirlain protested.
“They don’t have our world’s cultural history. It’s from a language that isn’t spoken here. Don’t ask me how whoever renamed her even knew it. Though it could just be a case of enough monkeys hitting a type-writer thing, similar sound to us but completely different meaning.”
Amdirlain frowned at the distraction she’d caused. “Fine, Isaac, now did you learn anything more?”
Sidero’s face was as if she’d bit into something sour. “I wouldn’t count on her being sane. They leave her out in the field where she can cause problems for enemies of Hell. When she’s around, weird shit happens. That, plus she just giggles her head off half the time, so she’s rated a few sandwiches short of a panic basket. It’s one reason she’s still with Ilya; a few individuals are hoping she’ll kill her for them.”
“She seemed lucid,” countered Amdirlain.
Sidero just shrugged absently, but her lips tightened. “Isaac was never that good an actress—too heart on the sleeve.”
“I had a ruthless teacher of acting—I improved. Insane doesn’t gel with what I saw, and Isaac warned Ilya. The way she spoke and assessed the situation wasn’t insane. Who says she wasn’t and isn’t acting it up for them?” questioned Amdirlain, the memory of Isaac’s alert tone not sitting right with her.
“Who’d be teaching her and why? Yeah, she’d have to be incredibly lucky to fool every Devil she’s dealt with, and she’s been around Ilya for twenty-odd years at this point. Even the most insane people can have apparent lucid moments.”
“She used the True Song. I met someone who told me the devastated area caused by True Song was laced with terror, not insanity.”
“Really, who was it that gave you that information?” asked Sidero, her sibilant tones strengthening the look of disbelief. “You think she’s a Sun Elf as well?”
Amdirlain nodded before she explained. “An ancient and scary Dragon, so not sharing their name. The Anar or Lómë are the only ones that can use it. The Anar all left Titan’s reality after their species’ destruction, as the Souls had no way of being reborn and regaining their memories.”
“Valid process of elimination, I guess.”
“What’s Ilya’s background? Was she a born Devil, transformed Soul, fallen Celestial?”
“No idea. The records area had a note that all copies of her files are with Co-ordinator Makaro’s offices.”
“I need to know more about Ilya. She’s the unknown factor, and as you said, they’ve been working together for over twenty years, mostly away from Hell. What if Ilya’s taken her under her wing?”
“Under her wing, hilarious. Makaro is no small fry, and if I go near her office without a clear-cut reason, I’ll get sucked into one of her plots. No reason I can come up with would justify me asking for Ilya’s file. Kytons are born, and some Devils consider us borderline cases.”
“If she can use True Song, I need her help,” insisted Amdirlain.
“What is going on?” asked Sidero; when Amdirlain frowned in confusion, she continued. “Torm would only tell me highlights.”
“It all started when I found a grotto echoing this music in the Abyss.”
* * *
“So am I a little Miss Sparkles as well?”
“No idea,” declared Amdirlain. “Andre’s wasn’t, though now the Titan’s refined her Soul.”
“Thanks for smashing him,” Sidero said, the grim smile that went with the words turning bleak. “Isaac was heartbroken.”
“Of course, because she was the only one,” retorted Amdirlain.
“Wow, do you think your mum’s heartless? She was nearby, obviously went ‘oh someone’s died at my daughter’s funeral, oh well’,” teased Sidero, her smile taking the sting from the words.
“Word games. I’m going to strangle you,” grumbled Amdirlain.
Sidero just shooed her away. “I’m a top, not a bottom, and I was never keen on strangulation fetishes.”
“I thought you had a boyfriend who liked you sitting on his face?”
“That’s not strangulation. That’s just positioning. He used to drive his tongue in so deep, I thought I was going to drown him one time. He made me cum so hard,” Sidero breathed and stopped suddenly to snap a broad smile at Amdirlain. “Bet Torm could touch your cervix.”
“What resources did you need to gather?” Amdirlain asked suddenly, her retreat drawing howls of laughter from Sidero.
“Lots, but I need to get more experience; fighting in the Army is fine for the low levels, not the higher ones. I only got a Tier 6 achievement for my contribution as a team member making Winter’s Heart, plus I’ve not hit a hundred yet in any class.”
“If you want to join my team, I could promote you, turn you into an Angel,” Amdirlain offered.
“No, Amdirlain, you’re too nice. I love you like a sister, but I’m already sworn to Order,” asserted Sidero. "Not Law, but Order. You do whatever it is you feel there is a need for. If I tried that, I’d want to blow my brains out, so if I took your offer, I’d just be betraying myself."
“Torm mentioned you took Hunter, but I can’t see any of our details with Analysis,” Amdirlain said, leaving the question unasked.
“You said you got an evolution. What type of Demon are you now?” asked Sidero, ignoring her implications.
“None, I’m a Fallen,” Amdirlain replied and struggled to keep a straight face at Sidero’s reaction.
Her stunned look was so complete, Amdirlain half expected her mouth to drop open. The rush of words took her off-guard. “Promise me now. Stay the fuck out of Hell. I don’t care what concealments you have in place—someone like you goes in there—assume the Arch-Devils will know. You get offered a contract of any type from there, decline it. They’d learn things just from your signature being on any sort of contract in their archives.”
“But..”
“No fucking buts, stay out of it. I won’t have you risking yourself. You going into Hell will help no one. They’ll just see a far bigger prize. Anything or anyone they can use to get to you would have a target on their back,” declared Sidero, grimacing as she continued. “I’ll end up on a lot of radars I’ve stayed beneath if I get a matching evolution.”
Amdirlain bit down her protests before she tried for a lighter subject. “Speaking of appearances. Why do you have a forked tongue? Are you doing body modification as well?”
“Mother is a Dragon,” declared Sidero flatly.
“She’s a what now?!” exclaimed Amdirlain. “Why aren’t you a Dragon?”
“Hell changed her eggs. There has only been one true Dragon hatched from any of them. The original children looked more like those humanoid lizards from your Skyrim game. Their children changed further. Most just have a similar appearance to myself in recent generations.” Sidero explained, unphased by Amdirlain’s surprise.