“Fuck.” Tyr's body and mind alike were on fire. He'd gotten bit by one of those wolf men and something was in its saliva. Not a venom, more like... Filth. Infection, a curse. Something with a will, primal thought and a directive. His skin itched and became red all over. Worst of all, the wound simply refused to heal. Even when he cut the flesh free, it was in his blood now. “Hahaha...” He chuckled to himself, half insane from the discomfort. He began to drool uncontrollably and his stomach felt empty even after shoving food down his gullet. All of it tasted like ash in his mouth, tasteless and blank with an incredibly slimy texture. Even his favorite dishes felt revolting now.

“Ah, fuck.” He winced again, when he moved, his blood pumped faster. When his blood pumped faster, it spread through his body at a more rapid pace. But at this point, there wasn't much he could do but accept it and have faith that his body would adapt. It didn't feel like it would, though. This disease, virus, bacteria... Whatever it was. He was resistant to it, but not immune. Slowly, it filled him up to the brim and made him burn like a torch. Leaking bloody pus all over. Even when he lurched through the streets, the cold eyes of the wolf men watched him. No longer attacking, content to avoid him for reasons he could not understand. Sniffing at him before backing away.

Tyr clutched at his side. Poultices and potions did nothing but hurt more, so he stopped using them. Light magic scalded his skin with the heat of a torch. Crisping the wound, but never cauterizing it. No matter what he did, it continued to bleed freely. Leaving him dizzy. The whole city was a warzone, but Tyr felt a pull at the edge of his consciousness. Navi was screaming at him, telling him not to approach the citadel, but he could barely hear her. Doing the exact opposite before her voice went silent again. Deactivated or quarantined like the rest of the city. He didn't know, nor could he care. Not in the state that he was in.

Every action was laborious. He felt so hungry that it made him feel that he'd never felt any hunger at all, but the idea of taking more meals from his dimensional ring was such an unpleasant concept. All of it smells of herbs and spices, and he hated that. Wanting to rip and tear into something raw, but all of his stored corpses were long since processed and cooked in preparation for his journey out of this place.

Except for those of the men and women held within. Those he'd kept. Old kills still fresh and bloody, still wearing their armor. The paladins of Indura. He stared at one of them, frothing at the mouth and gulping. A young woman. Silent in death. She couldn't have been older than her early twenties, and despite her grisly wounds, she was so beautiful. Tyr wished she was alive so that he could kill her again. To raise her a hundred times and do it over and over again. But worst of all, what he wanted from her most was her flesh. Taboo. Cannibal. He wanted to feed on her more than anything in the world, and he wasn't nearly disgusted as he thought he'd have been. He knew he should be, but she had no need of her parts now. The soft meat of her thighs coating the inside of his mouth with the coppery tang of freshly spilled blood.

That's what he imagined, anyway. But he couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it. Not yet. There had to be a way. Not because he felt the sting of revulsion. No, doing so would be right, there was no wrongness in taking a part of her. Just an arm or a leg or tearing from her loins. Humans were just animals, after all. There was nothing wrong with that. It was the fact that if the others saw him doing it, or knew that he had done it. They would not be happy, so he didn't. For them, or rather – out of a discomfort that they'd think less of him. So he burnt it. Burnt all of the corpses with what energy he had left. Tyr felt so weak, and yet so strong at the same time. His spira was compressed, tight and dense. So much mana pouring out of him that he felt invincible to any threat sans the wound.

It was dark, nobody home. No guards, only the lifeless forms of the various defensive pylons to keep him company. A lonely place. Quite like a mausoleum. He could hear beating fists slamming against one of the doors, but that fell silent too after a time. He couldn't feel life on the other side of it anymore. Just more cold loneliness. A haunted place so full of death, though he could see none of it. He just felt it. Walking beside a hundred phantoms crying out to him in words he could neither hear nor understand, they were walking with him. Screaming his name, pointing their fingers at something beyond in accusatory howls.

The first corner came. Silence. Third, silence. A web of labyrinthine turns in the tunnel that should've been straight. All was dark. Until he found them. More priests, the priests of flame serving the god Astarte.

“An adventurer? What in the world happened to you...?” Even through Tyr's fevered mind, he recognized the man. There were about forty of them. All standing in loose formation before the gate. Making camp in the bowels of the citadel, at ease despite the chaos raging outside. Their leader approached Tyr with eyes full of concern. His skin was so smooth. Full of that energy that the gods gave only to their finest of chosen. Tyr gulped, he wanted to taste this man. To tear him down and slake the thirst threatening to send him to madness. “Do you know what's happening out there? What happened to the power?”

“Monsters...” Tyr grunted. Crashing sidelong into the wall. Resisting the urge was so exhausting, so futile. The warrior priest steadied him with a solid grip and lay him down gently. Letting his back rest against the stone. Cool stone, something Tyr could appreciate. It felt good on his back. Letting his armor slide away into the bracelet so that he could be closer to the pleasant chill. “All over--” His words were cut short, wracked with a violent coughing. Wads of bloody phlegm shooting from his mouth. The priest stared at him with concern, calling to his subordinates.

“We'll heal you, little brother. Just be patient.” He said. “Hardy, take Beatrice and Teuton to scout the tunnel and report back. My name is Raddick, by the way.” Raddick smiled down at Tyr. He was a truly beautiful man, in a slightly inhuman sort of way. Another gift from a relationship with the god, no man was born with that sort of glow. His red eyes like twin torches in the darkness filling Tyr's vision.

“I'm gonna die.” Tyr laughed. Either the fever or the fleeting adrenaline keeping him conscious had buckled his mind. He felt it slipping away into a red-black madness. “I can't believe it. I'm actually going to die. For real this time. Well, not for real. I'll be back. Always back. Forever and ever.” He laughed again as Raddick stared at him with a hard turn to his lips.

“Lords, but he's burning up.” Raddick mumbled. “What kind of malady is this?” It wasn't red fever, not the lotus nor any kind of tuberculosis he'd ever seen. Priests were cast from all walks of life, those who gave their faith freely to one god or another. Unfortunately, Raddick was no healer. He possessed the ability, but it was gods given. He'd never studied disease, and had never needed to. This man was dying right in front of him and he possessed none of the education to see him live through whatever illness was wracking his body. “What did the monsters look like? Can you describe them?” He slapped Tyr awake, wincing at the insane head coming off the young mans skin.

“So many strings. All of these strings, all around. All these strings on me. Strings on you, on all of us. I don't want to dance for them anymore.”

“What...?” Raddick shook the boy by the harness. His heartbeat was incredible fast, flesh so hot that he could feel the heat even through his chain and leather gloves. “Oi, stay with me! Oi!” He turned toward the others. He was a senior warrior priest, but he'd never worked with this group before. Those present were mostly Agni's children. For every one of his, there were four of them. A strange turn of events, but taking shifts for so long in front of the astral gate they were bound to mingle. “Hardy? Why are you still here?”

“Apologies, my lord.” Hardy replied. Just before he pulled free his sword and thrust it through Raddick's bared back. Emerging as a red talon of bloody steel. Spraying it all over Tyr's face. He could taste it. So much blood came from the man. It had always surprised him how much blood the human body could hold. All of this blood and it just came spraying out and all around when you cut them in the right place.

“W-what...” Raddick choked, spraying yet more blood onto Tyr. Staring down aghast at the blade emerging from his chest. No priest or paladin of the house of flame had ever harmed another without consent. They battled and warred. Killed, too. That was their way. They were the house of conflict and challenge. But only when agreed upon. To stab another in the back in the trapping of a chosen was to profane the very gods they served. Raddick was left stunned and speechless, but there wasn't much he could do about a blade pulverizing his heart. So unexpected. So cold and calculating. Hardy, even now, hadn't a thread of murderous intent in his aura. Nothing to convince Raddick that such a thing would happen – or that it ever could. They were the hot one, men and women of the burning heart, not cold blooded assassins. Even if they were... Controlling ones aura and intent so carefully came from an inhuman realm.

Raddick slumped to the ground, shaking in convulsions as his body tried to process what had just happened. Leaving the other's standing, while Tyr licked greedily at the blood on his lips. He was lost. His mind spiraling away at that first taste of it. As soon as it touched his tongue, he was naught but a trapped observer. Tyr's body, that which he had previous been in so careful control of rose from its seated position. Sliding its back languidly up the stone wall and grinning at the priests. It felt so bizarre, seeing himself in the third person like that. But there he was. All bloody and gaunt and mad in the eye.

“Strings. Let me cut this strings...” This 'other' Tyr cackled insanely. Just before drawing his cleaver from its place at his hip and burying it in the skull of the paladin that had stabbed Raddick.

–

The world was flat. An impossibly long and wide plane of reddish gray stone stretching in each direction. But it wasn't empty. All around him were pairs. Only ever two facing off against one another in mortal combat. Tens of thousands of them, and Tyr knew there were more beyond. Above, the light of a dozen suns bathed the land in every color of light. Every part of the spectrum represented to become a burning, blinding light. But it didn't feel uncomfortable. He wanted to become a part of that light, to see it in all its glory. The flat belt of suns above seemed so familiar and full of life and happiness. As if... If he could reach them, he would be whole and fulfilled.

“Wait...” Tyr frowned. “This isn't real.”

“Oh...” A voice tutted. “Reality is a construct, but I can assure you that it is. Welcome. I've no idea who you are. Strange, considering the fact that you've entered my kingdom. You are a warrior?”

“I'm not sure.” Tyr answered, turning. A man wearing nothing but a toga was seated cross legged before a collection of weapons. Every weapon he'd ever seen, miniaturized, and those he hadn't. The man tended to these all with a careful precision. He had red hair, but not in the ginger sort of way, his hair seemed made of fire. His skin dark and caramel colored, a collection of well trained muscles. Not burly, but athletic. Flexible and full of vigor. Dark, tanned skin with spiraling patterns covering every inch of it from the neck down. This man had a similar body to Tyr, if not for the fact that he was easily over fifteen feet tall. If not taller. Seated as he was, it was difficult to tell. “You are a god.” Tyr said.

He was absolutely sure of it. He'd met Thanatos on more than one occasion. Their kind had a flavor about them.

“God.” The man sighed. “There are no gods, child. If there are, they've forgotten us as well as any of you. To believe myself omniscient and immutable is the height of arrogance. I am not infallible, so how could I be a god?”

“A celestial, then.” Tyr replied. At this, the man nodded.

“Yes. That is a more appropriate term. A thing that thinks might call itself what it likes. I do not care, but I am no god. And you? Who are you?”

“I am Tyr. I do not know of who's name to claim. Ebonfist, Faeron. I just don't know.” He shrugged. “And you are Astarte?”

The man smiled, still tending to his collection of weapons with incredible care. He had perfect teeth, incisors a bit too sharp but all pearly and white. Not handsome, not exactly – too wild in appearance for that, too inhuman, but he radiated majesty in all directions. Features too hard, too violent and brutal in the eyes. Too masculine, as if such a thing were possible.

“Jartor's son. The boy who does not exist. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He nodded. “But no, I am not my father. I am Agni. Do you know of me?”

“The god of martial challenge and trials.” Tyr replied. “Of pride, fairness, and passion.”

Agni nodded. “A fair and honest assessment. My aspects are challenge. All challenges. Whether they be martial or not, I do not care. Fairness, sure. I do love equity. Passion, however, not quite. I am the god of passionate love and lover of sacrifices. A brother that sees another in need and throws himself in the way of a blade. Or a sister, of course. Or otherwise, I do not discriminate. It's all in the heart. That is all that matters. You could say I am the god of hearts, if you'll allow some drama.”

“Sacrifice?” Tyr asked.

“You could call it that.” Agni nodded. “I treasure those who keep to their oaths and endeavor to protect that which they love. Have you kept to your oaths, Tyr of House Faeron? Have you loved in all respects to the bounds of your heart and known the touch of brotherhood?”

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“I don't know.” Tyr replied. Something about this place was so pleasant, so black and white – no disparity. All of the warriors around him battling with each other were equals regardless of their mortal birth. Again and again they'd defeat one another before picking their partner up with a brotherly hand, switching to face a new opponent in an endless cycle beneath those burning suns. “I think I've tried to, at least.”

“You would not be here if a righteous heart did not exist inside of you. To keep an oath is a polarizing concept. It's not always possible. You are loved, but do not love. I can see that, but this does not matter as long as your actions cry out louder than your words.” Agni spoke softly, calmly, and with supreme confidence. “You have labored, and lost. And that is okay, because you did it for others and not always yourself. Can I read your soul, Tyr?”

Tyr shrugged, he felt like an eternity ago he had been in such maddening pain, but now he was finally at peace. Not the cold apathy of Thanatos' realm, but the peace of true contentment, like he was in the right place this time. “If you want to.”

Agni chuckled softly. “I'm not the god of arrogance. There is no place for that on the martial path, but I would be lying if I said that you do not irk me. Not you, in particular, but whatever keeps you shrouded from me. You are so difficult to read.”

He breathed out, centering himself before trying again. Tyr felt a titanic presence settle on his soul, crashing through the barriers around it until it reached the last, pausing.

“I see. Smart. Necessary, I'd say.” Agni said, eyes shut. “I won't press too hard. Apologies, I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?” Tyr asked.

“I cannot say.”

“I wish you would.”

“And alas, I cannot. There are rules, and I abide by them all whereas others may not. Speak to another if you'd like them broken. I will do no such thing.”

Tyr nodded. “I understand.”

“I see that you've been selfish. Self righteous. Greedy, and at times indiscriminate. But... You've never killed an innocent, and this is good. You began your journey dark and cold in your heart, and have slowly warmed over time. And you've my element, which is also good. I'd judge you worthy. After a trial, of course. That is my way, but you're more than welcome to decline. Mmm... Incredible...” Agni gasped, his expression cracking before he boomed into loud laughter.

“What is?”

“You're still alive. I've not seen this in so long. Something to do with Her, I'd imagine.”

“Her?”

“Valkyrja.” Agni shrugged. “As always, her hooks are in you something fierce. You cannot die, so I cannot claim you. A shame. Mine is one of the few spheres that beget change in a man. You could've been great, I think – if you could truly take to my faith.”

“Then why am I here?” Tyr asked. “If I am not dead? How could I meet a god?”

“Because you've celestial blood in you.” Agni smiled softly. “Granted, all heralds do – the beings you call primus. Though they are not true heralds... You can speak to us whenever you'd like, if you willed it – but your soul... So many rules on your plane, it must be hard.”

“Can I ask questions?” Tyr asked.

“Of course. I'll answer them as honestly as I can.” Agni nodded sagely. Like a monk, the man – or god in this case – was so focused and candid.

“Is Jartor my father?” That was the real question on Tyr's mind. Every transcendent being, whether god or not, spoke in riddles and he hated it. For once, he seemed to be speaking to someone with the ability who might answer honestly.

“Of course he is.” Agni nodded, and in speaking it – it was truth. “To think that he is not despite your similarity in appearance alone makes this an odd question. Your higher kind may not have true biological children, but genetics are irrefutable.”

“Then...” Tyr's eyebrows raised, anxieties battling within his mind even as the others from all races around him did the same. Agni was a god, he did not need Tyr to frame the question, seeing it for what it was.

“Because you are dead.” He said. Simply, as if such a thing were normal. “And you always were. You have taken to the faith of one other, and reignited your pledges through action and experience.”

“Dead?” Tyr asked. “I thought you just said I was alive?”

“Existence.” Agni frowned, finally looking up at Tyr from his task. His eyes had no iris or pupil to them, orbs of radiant golden fire. “It's a strange concept, you know? Reality is what it is. You are not dead, but neither are you alive. More appropriately, you ceased to exist at one point or another. That is why we cannot see you, but there are more wards beyond that to keep death at bay. Carved into your soul and by your bloodline. Even to begin with, you were an impossible child. And yet here you are, at least in soul, born long before what the fates had in store. I know you want to learn more. I understand, kid, trust me. I am the son of a rather interesting father myself. But you are his son, and your questions cannot be answered by any mouth other than his own.”

Tyr was tired of the banter. He wanted to do something else. Put his hands to work in one way or another. Agni saw to the truth of that as well.

“You can leave.” He said. “Whenever you want. As sad as I am to let you go. Of course, by the ordering you can't return to your old world. You are still alive, but your body is broken. Mind shattered. The duality of your nature as an immortal has been tampered with too many times. I cannot help you with this, but I can assist you in being reborn on a more favorable world. Or... We can make a deal.”

“What does that mean?” Tyr scowled. A deal, another deal with a god.

“Nothing.” Agni replied. “Everything. Do you know the nature of celestials? Or, as you say, gods?”

Tyr shook his head in the negative. “How could I? I have no idea how I'm supposed to be able to know that.”

“Answer truthfully, your sardonic nature amuses but irks twice as much.” Agni frowned, his face suddenly growing hard. “Answer or perish.”

“You're an unnatural mana based phenomena that feeds on lower lifeforms for sustenance.” Tyr replied. “That's all I know. Perhaps I could frame it better, but I don't know how.”

Agni nodded with a contemplative frown. “Harsh words, but true enough. We, and by we I do not mean I. In terms of the cosmic scale, I am a gnat. But we – let's say – are responsible for your existence. We gave you life, and in return – you revere us. Your faith is what we feed upon. Belief and an observance of our aspects. Gods wax and wane, but I have never waned. Only grown stronger. In a way, you could call me a god of greed. The need to be better in all things is my aspect, and as humans grow greedier, I grow stronger. However... I digress. A bargain, is what I'd offer you. I am satisfied with your answer, or rather more so your lack of knowledge.”

“Why?” Tyr asked. “I was told not to listen to such requests.”

“Mmm... By Thanatos. You've his eye, though you know it not. The shepherds eye. Not a bad gift, all told, it's given you a unique path to finding your dao. As to why I offer you a bargain, it's because... Hmm, another question. Do you see these people?” Agni gestured to encompass all of the men and women fighting around him. Some belonged to races Tyr did not even recognized. He nodded. “They are training. Preparing for conflict. For a hundred years or a million. It does not matter. These are the sons and daughters of Agni. A catchy name, though not all of them are binary. A great conflict exists in every story, on every world. If you accept my gift, I will see you returned to your body. This world is far more entertaining than the others, and that is the reason why. I like swords, you know? Spears and axes, blades of all kind. On other worlds, it's always magic or technology that sees so many victories. Shortcuts, and I do not like them. Magic is a fair tool when used against others with equal skill in the same, but a blade is the truest form of challenge. Or simply climbing a mountain on merit of your own will. Challenge and violence are not mutually exclusive. But they solve that with magic or technology, too, and I do not like it.”

“You hate magic?”

“Of course not. Magic is a tool, the spira is a tool, even the dao itself is a tool. A framework left for the universe by those who came before to define the great struggle. But over-reliance on a tool makes you weak, and your kind were not made to be weak. As your greed grows, my power grows, as I've said – but it warps and changes us. We are defined by your compulsions, and that is why the faith is necessary, I do not wish to be a god of foul emotion. To accept the struggle for what it is, is necessary, it is to be truly humble and this is more important than you could ever know.”

“You ramble.” Tyr frowned.

“And you speak to your so-called gods as if our equal. As if we've an opportunity to speak directly to things at the drop of a hat, it gets lonely here.” Agni said, but he laughed – too. “And this is good. We are not above you. We are you. You come from us, and we from you. It's a beneficial cycle. I'll cut it short, then. You continue to train, and give us of the fire a good spectacle. Which, you will. There is no effort needed for that. You always do. In exchange, I'll repair your broken mind so that your soul can return. Naturally, I'll fix that spot of lycanthropy, too. I can't create a new body from scratch, though, it is not within my power. It'll be up to you to do the rest.”

“Not hidden strings?” Tyr asked, and Agni shook his head.

“I am not Thanatos. While ultimately, he did what he did to benefit you as a born chosen of death, I am no liar or devil. In this case, I can.” Agni said. “Unless you ask of me, I will not give.”

“And what if I did ask?” Tyr turned his shoulder to Agni to watch the warriors fighting all around. A thousand warriors fighting in a thousand styles. All of them were beyond the mechanical knowledge of any living being he'd ever seen. True masters of their craft. “What sort of power would you grant me?”

“Every deal with a celestial requires a cost. Not from want, but from need. Those are the rules, and I abide by them, remember?”

“I am aware of cost.” Tyr nodded. “What's yours?”

Agni smiled softly. Looking away from Tyr to begin inspecting his weapons once again. For a god, he was so gentle. Caring, and patient. Tyr could feel his influence all around. These men battling healed on Agni's command, not their own. He saw them whole and fit again, each and every time, because he loved them. The emotion was so strong that Tyr could feel it. “I had a brother. His name was Kai. When we were 'children, as you might call it, long ago... Impossibly long ago compared to the calendar on your world, I defeated and devoured him. I found my aspect in that, and I fell into a great sorrow for an uncountable number of years because of it. He was my better half, and I killed him. Celestials cannot be killed, granted, not truly. Our essences are tied to the makeup of your reality. Now, he lives inside of me. Just a sliver of him, enough to remind me of what I'd done. To temper me. Do you know what he was the god of?”

Tyr couldn't answer that question, but Agni knew it.

“He was the god of respect, love, and equality. While I was the god of murder, a lust for blood, and dominion over others. Over the ages, our natures change. Gods are not immutable, if that is even what we are. He made me who I am, that part of him that's inside of me. Have you heard his name?”

Tyr shook his head.

“And that is the way of things. My point is, Tyr of House Faeron and Ebonfist. I'll give my gift freely, but will you be willing to accept who you are with a shard of me inside of you?”

Again, he wasn't sure how to respond. “Will I change as a person?”

Agni shrugged. “That's up to you. I offer the same as I offer my priests. You will not want to go about murdering people, if that's your concern, unless you truly want to. What I'll offer you is a curse to your curse, if you simply refuse to quit at any given task. Losing is fine. Victory is not everything, it's about the struggle. If you can agree to that, your fate is in your own hands. No strings, but I will withdraw my gift to you should I ever find you wanting. Though, worth noting, I will feed on you. You and your feats will all give tribute to me. In terms of an honest bargain, this is not one with any sort of equality. I reap nine times the benefit, easily, from daily actions. Still, you'll need it for what is to come, and it will make you stronger.”

“And...” He continued. “You can call my name, praise and revere me – but you are not my paladin. You are already sworn to one, I would not be able to manifest an avatar within you. I expect this is more preferable to you rather than the opposite, though.”

“I accept.” Tyr replied without reservation. He knew, deep down, that he only had a limited time here. Somehow, his soul had been... Detached? He still felt the threads, but whatever was supposed to kill his body ended up pulling apart the net of spira that bound him to the earth. It wasn't a true death. Maybe he'd have welcomed that at one point or another. If he died here, there'd be no Thanatos to save him. Agni was the one who had come. And Tyr didn't want to start anew, on a new world with different rules. He'd worked too hard to surrender it all now. “But I have one more question.”

“The boy in Amistad?” Agni said. “All of the times you reached out to us and received no aid?”

Tyr nodded slowly. He found it disconcerting how they seemed to read his thoughts.

“The easy answer is that we could not see you. The harsh answer is that we do not care. Even if we could, we are not dogs to be called to heel. Hastur is a man now, and you a primus. Higher nim exist to rein and reign over your kind. If you cannot do that, you do not deserve the life we've breathed into you at your birth. No celestial of my house will save the ones you love if you are not willing to put forth honest effort yourself. Look to the water or the earth for that, maybe the light if you're ready for that kind of commitment. It may trouble you, but the world does not revolve around you. Our eyes are on every corner of your world at every waking moment. I've said as much, but we are not omniscient and all powerful. Do not lose yourself in arrogance as if you are the chosen one of the gods. You have talent, and are amusing, but you are nothing special. I have seen countless men of your stripe and many who were far superior to you in all ways pass their lifetime on this world and many others. Do you understand?”

“I understand. But I do not forgive.”

Agni smiled, an aggressive bearing of teeth. Half of joy, half for the rush of the challenge that Tyr had left unspoken. The boy truly intended to fight a god, and wasn't afraid to say so out loud, foolish, but incredibly amusing. “To be too devout is an ill thing. But at the same time to pit yourself against the gods as if we are your enemies is even worse. I have no need for seeking the approval of an insect, and I mean no offense when I say that. You are truly insignificant, a temporary mark on an eternal cosmos. Be careful who you speak your thoughts to in the future, but go now with my full support and blessing as long as you remain worthy of it. After all, despite my words, a challenge is exactly what I value most, and there is no challenge greater than that to the gods themselves.”