Zachariah

What in the Hells just happened?

My body went limp as a rag doll the second the Chosen's fist hit me. One moment everything was settled in a torrent of fire and ash. And then my ears were ringing, my body was screaming in agony as I was punched across the night garden. I flew head over heel until my back slammed against a tree, the silvery shield surrounding the greenery here radiating out from the impact.

Blackness took me for...well I don't know how long. I came to, and my vision swam as I pulled myself into a sitting position. The ground tilted beneath me, everything spinning on some unknown axis. Something warm dripped down my chin, and I tasted the coppery tang of blood.

Grunting, I tried to gather my surroundings as I pulled free from unconsciousness.

Silvery light gave off a low glow in the endless field of plants of every type and color. I hadn't noticed that before. I had only focused on the fight and our purpose before, but this place really was beautiful in its own way. Behind me was an ocean of deepest red in the distance. A speck of an island stood in the middle. The boundless black sky held only the symbols of the other Gods in it, looking down on us without emotion.

Everything snapped into focus.

"What are you being so pissy about? Never been burned alive before?" Rowena said as her skin finally knitted back together. The Shifter stood over her, taking on Sheriff Stone's form. My jaw hardened as I watched this snake impersonate an honest man. The image was perfect, but everything about his body language was wrong. From the tilt of his head, to the smile that didn't reach his eyes.

My hand flew to my arm where my Elemancy marks had been, but my skin was clean now. I reached to the ground and called forth its energy, but it shied away from me in this realm. It was like trying to call a dog away from its master. It cared nothing for my request. Some unspoken command kept it from me.

I was out of Elemancy.

"Burning someone alive is considered an insult in some parts. And it was rather uncomfortable," The Shifter responded in Stone's deep voice, curling his hands into fists. His eyes began to glow like beacons, allowing the full power of what he was to shine through. Rowena's eyes were more like someone striking flint, flashing between radiant blue and her normal violet.

"Don't be such a bitch. I've seen less drama in a theater," Rowena muttered, slowly getting to her feet. She was doing a good job of hiding it, but nothing had changed. She was barely holding back that darker part of herself. We all knew it. Blackness seeped into the veins of her face like ink as she spoke. Inch by inch.

Leaning into a roll, I tried to tuck my legs beneath me. If this coward was going to send Rowena to the Abyss, she sure as the Hells wasn't going alone. I would fight for her. For the people who would be slaughtered like pigs. For the fate of my race and the war that would follow if we failed.

When we failed. I hated to admit it, but he had outwitted us. The God of Knowing's Chosen. He knew we would try to find him. He knew we would try to stop the Pumas. He had put them right in our path like fodder to sap Rowena's energy. He knew his job would be easy by the time he revealed himself.

But that didn't mean we would simply roll over and die.

I finished in a crouch, realizing my legs had gone numb. The tree's blow to my spine must have been harder than I anticipated. My legs felt like stilts supporting my torso, but I still had to fight. I wasn't afraid. I had grown up fending for myself on the streets long before I learned the art of my heritage.

I didn't need magic to win a fight. Battles came in many forms, but there were commonalities to all of them. You had to accept that it was going to hurt. You had to greet pain like an old teacher. Pain didn't kill you in a battle. It was just a reality.

"You're strong," came a steady voice. I looked over my shoulder to find the male angel standing there like a statue. One of the Angels of Death. He could be nothing else. His counterpart stood a few paces away, looking on with excitement as Rowena and the Chosen continued to talk.

An idea came to me.

"She serves Death as well. Help us," I breathed, trying to steady myself. A bark of laughter came from the female, cruel and high. The male just stared impassively at me, his arms crossed over his massive chest. His gaze never left mine as he spoke next.

"She did serve Death," he said quietly.

I felt my eyes narrow, and turned more fully to him. I needed to know what he meant by that, but I didn't get the chance to ask. He was before me in a blink's breath, staring down with those with flat eyes.

"There are events which must take place. Events to which we must bear witness," he said as he laid a hand on my shoulder, his red gaze boring into mine.

"I will tell you this," he went on more softly, "Yours are the eyes of a warrior. Not a martyr."

My brows drew together, but the angel just backed away from me with impossible grace, his hands lowering to his sides.

"Now go," he said as he looked back to my friend.

Frowning, I looked away from them just in time to see Rowena punch the Chosen, her hands shaking. My stomach dropped as the blow barely made him move. He slowly and deliberately turned his chin to her again. She and the Chosen stood chest to chest as his eyes blazed with power. Rowena's familiar scowl came to her features as I saw her spread her fingers toward the darkness of the nearest shadow.

Don't, I thought. But she did. The smallest tendril of shadow came toward her outstretched palm, and I saw Rowena pant with the effort. It turned and twisted until finally making contact with Rowena's shaking fingers.

And then she screamed.

The air seemed to ripple as she sank to her knees. Shadows spread over her skin like black fire, her eyes blazing. I was already running, sprinting to her in fumbling strides. It felt like running on the deck of a ship in a hurricane, but that didn't matter. I saw the Chosen's sadistic smile as he just stood there, watching her writhe.

I couldn't let this happen. Rowena had told me the truth of that night in Grimwater. The horror that she became. I couldn't allow her to become that again. For all our sakes.

"This again? I thought I told you to wait your turn," the Chosen drawled in Stone's voice as I came within an arm's reach. He could read my mind. It was pointless. I knew that. I swung anyway.

And in the same motion, I turned my mind off.

He blocked my punch to his throat, using a single forearm to redirect my fist to the left. I let it happen, turning with my momentum and the elbow of my other arm up as I finished the turn.

A sickening crack was my reward. My elbow drove in his jaw, dislocating it and ending all conversation. I didn't take the time to celebrate. My body was moving with the instincts of a lifetime of street brawls against boys and men twice my size. I didn't allow myself to plan strikes or lure him into a mistake. I simply moved.

And it was working. By all the God's mercy, it was working.

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As he stumbled back, I didn't allow the space to open up. I crouched and drove my fist into his side. The spinning in my head was gone now, replaced by a rage I had never known. This man would pay. I had seen too many cowards get away with their schemes on the streets. But not tonight. Not this man. This thing. He would pay.

His body curled, his mouth open in a gasp. I wrapped my arms around his bent waist, somehow managing to lift him on my numb legs. I turned us both before finally slamming him flat on the ground. The rest of the air in his lungs left him in a whoosh.

I pinned him beneath me, pulling my fist back to punch him again. But he had finally recovered from the blows, and I was getting slower already. The Chosen thrust his knee up, scoring a hit between my legs. It was good that I was still numb, because I only registered the burning ache his knee left behind. It only fueled my rage as I aimed a second punch to his face. His nose shattered under the impact, blood spraying out from his nostrils and his dislocated jaw. He brought his elbow up, hitting me in the temple. I just took the hit even as sparks danced across my vision.

The Chosen used my momentary pause to roll me beneath him, and I took two more punches to the face. But I didn't care. I was all attack. The only thing that mattered was hurting him. Killing him.

A grunt escaped me as I threw my forehead into his already dangling jaw. A strangled scream of pain rang out and he reared backward, I twisted out from under him as my arms became free. I threw an arm his neck as I slammed him back to the ground face first. I used my other hand to twist his head as he kicked and struggled. But it was too late now. I had the advantage. He seemed to know my intent before I did as I threw my body weight into twisting his neck more and more until...

A snap, and the arms and legs beneath me went slack. The only sound was my rasping breathing for several seconds as I tried to gather myself.

"Zachariah."

I glanced over at Rowena as sanity returned to me, the rage ebbing away and replaced by agony. She sitting with her knees to her chest, sweat dripping from her face, which had gone white as snow. Her entire torso shook even as she wrapped her arms around herself. But her eyes stayed decidedly violet as she gazed at me. I sighed in relief, but not for long.

I knew this was far from over.

As if in answer, the head beneath me twitched as bone moved beneath skin. He threw me off of him as his body became more muscular, armor forming on it. Stone's form was gone, replaced by a man in a general's uniform. A general of the King's Army of Burland. The sigil seemed to smile at me as I saw the steel gray and golden livery. The sun and moon stood back to back on a green background.

I landed flat on my back as the Chosen slowly regained his feet. Ash Blonde hair was cut severely short over a prominent brow. This body looked like a warrior honed from legend. The only giveaway was the blue glow in his eyes.

He reached up to his jaw, forcing it back into place with a crunch. He worked it hesitantly before smirking at me, all bruises vanished from his face.

"Getting tired yet? We can do this all night," he asked in a posh Burlish accent. I didn't respond, focusing on my breathing and trying to control the pain beating through my body. My soul.

A low laugh echoed in the garden.

"Has it finally sunk in? You cannot win this, Boy," he said with a pretentious placating hand.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll try again and again. But this fight isn't about effort. A kitten can try to fight a lion, but in the end we all know how that ends."

He shrugged as he turned his back to me, looking at Rowena.

"But I'm not finished with you yet, My Lady," he said, switching to a conversational tone. Rowena was still pale, gripping her knees to her chest, but she still managed to glare at him with utmost hatred.

"Did you know that there used to be several of the Chosen?" he went on, lifting a brow at her. Rowena just gave the smallest tilt of her head in question.

"Oh yes," he said, sinking to his haunches before her, "The Gods have selected Chosens for generations. We existed long before the war began, but in secret. However, you are the first Chosen of Death that has been seen in almost a thousand years."

He gestured as if tipping a hat to her.

"My compliments to you. What an honor it must be."

"Why," Rowena said too quietly, "Do you talk so fucking much?"

"Like I said. I'm not done with you," he explained, standing to his full height again. I tried to sit up, but my body simply wouldn't respond. I could only watch as the Chosen spun on his heel, looking back to her with a smile.

"The Gods have a law against fighting one another directly, but they are still very competitive," he said, glancing to where the God of Knowing's symbol hung in the sky.

"So they had us, their various Chosens, fight in a tournament to see who's power was the strongest."

A cruel smile.

"It was glorious. I would regale with the thrilling tale, but I can see your patience running out. So I'll skip to the end."

He leaned forward, meeting Rowena's eye.

"I won my first tournament as Chosen. And I have won every tournament since. Every other God has had to find a new Chosen for the past eight hundred and thirty-six years."

"Why do you think I care?" Rowena asked, her voice a lethal quiet even as a bead of sweat trailed down her pale face.

"Because I want to see you at your best, My Lady," he explained, curling a finger under her chin.

"I'll admit you got the better of me last time, and my God was less than impressed by my performance. But I'm prepared for you now. There is no pride in killing this pathetic form you cling to."

His eyes flashed brighter.

"So let out that other form. Your true form. I will kill you at your most powerful. I will kill you like I did all the rest."

A beat of silence passed as Rowena glared at him. The plants seemed to take a collective breath as they waited. Darkness shifted over her face, replaced by that glowing blue, and then finally going back to violet.

"Go to the deepest of the Hells and rot," Rowena growled before punching him in the throat. He stumbled back, coughing for a moment as the light of his eyes seeped into the veins of his face. His expression twisted in anger as he settled his uniform back over his shoulders. Rowena didn't rise. I doubted she could. But she did glance at me then, an apology in her expression.

"Well then," The Chosen said, looking from me, to her, and then back to me. That cruel smile was back, and I felt ice spread through me as I realized his next plan.

"Let's see if we can get you rage going," he said, before stalking toward me, "And if I have to make you watch another person you love go to the Abyss, then so be it."

I needed to move. To do anything. I managed to get to my feet just in time to greet my executioner. The rage was gone, burned up inside me. I knew he was right. A Chosen had a power in a different dimension than I did, Elemancy or no. I lifted my chin, determined to try to buy Rowena as much time as possible.

I looked at her then, trying to tell her with my eyes to run. Save herself and fight this fight another day. More would die in that preparation, but it was better than the alternative. Rowena needed to stay herself. That demon inside her needed to stay caged. If my death bought her that ability, then it was a price I could pay.

The Chosen smirked at me as I sank into another fighting stance. That general squared off against me, and I didn't even see his first strike. I was sent backward as his palm struck my chest. I tried to land, but my legs were slow. The Chosen sent a kick at my head, but I blocked it. Even that sent agony through me, blinding me. But it was fine.

It was worth it.

"Wait," Rowena rasped.

We both paused, glancing at where she stooped. But she wasn't stooping anymore. She stood with her shoulders back and spine straight. Her eyes met mine, and I saw they were rimmed with silver. Her words were only for me.

"Find a way to stop me."

Not a request. An order.

And then Rowena, Blight of Grimwater and Chosen of Death, lifted her face to the black sky.

Drops of all-consuming darkness fell from it like rain. The drops fell around her, and then toward her. I watched, my body ice cold as one of the drops hit her forehead, curling into a black mark like I had never seen.

Rowena was laughing now, spread her arms to greet the drops of darkness. They gathered on her like a second skin, making her form obscure. It became a black humanoid shadow with glowing blue eyes as she laughed and laughed. The very plane of Purgatory seemed to roar, the ground itself rumbling beneath my feet. And then Rowena's form grew, standing tall as she lost all shape altogether. Even her eyes were swallowed by the blackness. The edges curled and writhed like blame flames, towering above both the Chosen and myself.

It stopped raining blackness. All went silent.

"Finally," The Chosen whispered, turning from me to face the bonfire of darkness my friend had become. He drew nearer as I stood rooted to the spot, throwing his arms out and sweeping into a bow.

"I see you true self has finally come out of hiding. How abou--"

His words were cut off as a blade of darkness shot out from the flame, severing his head clean from the neck. It bounced near my feet, turning to ash as the body collapsed. Seconds later, I saw another head forming on it.

I tore my eyes away from the healing Chosen, seeing the black flames start to condense. They gathered together as two dots of red light formed within it's depths. A face appeared around them, then a female figure of ashen skin with black armor fitted to Rowena's new body.

There was nothing human about Rowena's gaze as I finally recognized her. The black flames still surrounded her as she canted her head. She waited patiently for the Chosen to rise again, ignoring me completely. I didn't know if I was grateful for that.

"Do you know why you were able to win the tournaments of the Chosen?" Rowena asked in a deep voice that sounded both nothing like her and everything like her. A voice that made the air ripple with power, silver light glowing from every plant she approached.

The Chosen simply smirked at her, resuming the form of the general. Rowena chuckled darkly, pausing to lift her hands.

The black flames fell into her fists, becoming solid and fitting to her palms exactly. In mere moments, Rowena had pistols made of the purest shadow in each hand.

"You won because I hadn't joined the party yet."