When Rhea Browne was a child, her mother was killed in a home invasion. That was the official story, anyway. Some desperate robbers had thought the family’s lavish home contained valuable treasures, so they snuck in at night when the household was asleep to steal them away. Only Rhea’s mother had been awake. Unable to sleep, she was up fetching a glass of water from the kitchen.

The robbers, not expecting to encounter anyone, panicked. One of them grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed the woman in the heart, killing her, before the criminals fled the scene. The next day, the assailants were caught by the authorities and executed.

That is the story that was reported to the outside world. Whoever was wrongfully executed, Rhea didn’t know. The real culprit was still living in her home, eating every meal just across the table from her. The truth of the incident was something only her father, a few trusted servants of the house, and Rhea herself knew. Her father had murdered her mother, and Rhea had watched it happen.

She remembered the gleam of the knife in her father’s hand, crimson red dripping off the metal to the floor. She remembered her mother’s body growing cold just a small distance away, wide eyes still open in terror. She remembered her father’s face as he held Rhea firmly by the shoulders, shaking her and telling her not to speak of it. The blood on his hands had stained her nightgown. And she remembered the next day, the house slipping back into the usual routine as though nothing had happened at all.

Even just the thought of death was enough to send her back to that night. The image of her mother’s mutilated corpse had burned its way into her mind, frightening her to the core. The sight of all that blood had painted her vision red, and she never was able to see clearly after that. It took weeks for the shaking to stop, to not see blood spatters on the walls where there were none, and to be able to get a good night's sleep. It took months to look her father in the eyes again, and even then she saw the eyes of a monster instead of the eyes of a man.

Unfortunately, the concept of death was something she was never able to escape. For most children, it was a rather avoidable topic. But that was not the case for Rhea. Her father was an archbishop of the Church of Solomon, and his specialty was that of funerary rites. He often dealt with the passing of high-ranking Church officials as well as noble and wealthy worshippers.

However, he also had another job. From the beginning of the spread of Pneuma Morta, he was also tasked with examining the corpses of demons to find out more about the creatures and the disease itself. The basement of their home was always filled with bodies either awaiting a funeral or an autopsy, waiting to be picked apart and examined.

Because of this, Rhea could never escape the thing that terrified her the most. Living there became torture, and yet she absolutely did not want to die. For Rhea, the only thing more painful and agonizing than life itself was death. Yet everywhere she looked, she was reminded of that night, of her mother, and of her own inescapable fate. Thus, she spent most of her days confined to her room of her own will, horrified at everything that lay beyond the door.

Due to his job, her father worked closely with the other archbishops, namely the archbishop of defense, to come up with strategies for combating the spread of Pneuma Morta as well as protection against the demons themselves. It was a very honorable and high-ranking position within the Church. The two archbishops would meet frequently, often at Rhea’s own house near the heart of the city.

One day, the visiting archbishop brought a guest, his son. He was a boy Rhea’s age, and while their fathers met they thought the two could play together. Rhea’s father thought it would be a good opportunity to socialize the reclusive girl as well as make stronger connections with another family of the Church. The boy was the first person Rhea met outside of her own household for as long as she could remember.

The two got along surprisingly well, often spending time together in her family estate’s library. The boy was even-tempered and good-natured. He had infinite patience when it came to Rhea’s bad moods and skittish behavior, and was an expert at entertaining her with his fanatical tales and ramblings about his many interests and hobbies.

Rhea began to look forward to the boy’s visits. It was one of the few times she would be able to interact with someone other than the servants she saw every day. The boy also liked spending time with her, and they became close friends. The boy’s father began to bring his son with him every time he came around, and Rhea couldn’t have been happier. Slowly, she began to claw her way out of the frightful and isolated shell she had made for herself.

However, a little while later, Rhea fell ill. The doctors couldn’t tell what was wrong with her, but she grew increasingly sick the more time went on. Everyone thought she would die from the mysterious illness. She stopped seeing guests, and she didn’t eat anything except for the bowl of soup that contained her medicine each day. She had nothing to do but stay locked in her room and read.

Unfortunately, her condition continued to worsen. She was eventually bedridden, and even when the boy would visit he would be turned away. She had grown too weak to read herself, but she missed the boy’s fantastical stories. Rhea begged her father to allow him to see her, and eventually, he agreed.

The boy was the only allowed guest, but he would come often and on his own, visiting even without his father. He would sit at her bedside and read to her or tell stories of his own. Every time he finished, she would smile weakly at him and tell him to come back again soon. The boy always promised that he would. But Rhea began to notice the boy and the servants around her grew more and more solemn, and even she could feel that her death was imminent. It was terrifying. Anything but that, she prayed.

Panicked and thinking she had not long left to live, she confided in her only friend all her secrets, dreams, and desires. She hoped that at least one person would remember her after she faded from the world without a trace. There was so much she still wanted to do, so little she had done. She asked the boy to do them on her behalf. Once again, her friend promised that he would.

To everyone's surprise, however, just when all hope was lost, Rhea began to mysteriously recover. Her health slowly improved to the point that she could even get out of bed and walk around again. Once more, she could eat all kinds of food and read on her own, even studying and teaching herself about many subjects. But her father, after his initial astonishment at the improvement in her condition, forbade her from leaving the mansion. He also disallowed any guests, including the boy.

No one had known what had caused her illness to begin with, and there was even less of a clue as to how she suddenly got better. Her father hired countless doctors, but none seemed to have an answer to either. He became frantic, summoning physician after physician to find out what was going on. Still, no answers. Until one day, a doctor examining Rhea lifted her shirt to listen to her heartbeat and froze.

There, spreading out from her chest, were the faintest of purple scars. While the cause of her original illness was still unclear, they now knew why she had gotten better so quickly: Pneuma Morta. The healing properties of the demon within had offset whatever sickness had been residing there previously. One disease had simply been replaced by another.

Eager to prevent this news from spreading outside, Rhea’s father quickly paid off the doctor and confined Rhea to her room, not allowing her to even wander the property anymore. He couldn’t take any risks until he decided what to do with his daughter. To the outside world, Rhea was still deathly ill.

Because of his position in the Church of Solomon, reputation was very important to him. His status as an elite member of the Church was a valuable one. One that he would do anything to keep. So when it became known that his daughter was one of the Condemned, a sinner who would stain the family name, his first thought was of how to get rid of her without the truth coming to light.

Realizing this, one of the servants who had looked after Rhea since she was a baby knew it was only a matter of time until the girl was disposed of like her mother. So, she snuck the girl away under the cover of the night and never looked back. That servant’s name was Hattie.

Hattie had a sister who was also a servant serving under a different master in the city. Her sister’s master was supposedly very intelligent and kind. Not knowing where else to go, Hattie took Rhea there for protection. The master of the house welcomed them and agreed to look after her under one stipulation, that she be allowed to study Rhea’s condition.

As it turned out, this master was a well-known independent researcher looking into the effects of Pneuma Morta, and Rhea was a fascinating case. The infection spread at different rates for everybody, but Rhea’s was spreading extraordinarily slowly. It had already been months and only the first faint traces of scars had appeared. Such a glacial pace of the disease was unprecedented.

Soon after her escape, Rhea’s death became official, the word spread out from her father. He had held the funeral services privately, claiming that she had succumbed to the devastating illness of her youth and that losing his only remaining family member was almost too much for him to bear. He just wanted to say goodbye to his daughter peacefully. Thus, Rhea Browne had died, but Rhea Green had been born.

Under this new name, she worked and studied under her master, learning all about Pneuma Morta and demonology. She occasionally became the subject of her master’s experiments, but she was not upset by this. She, too, learned from them, and she was happy to be of use. Her master even said that Rhea was doing the world a great service and that she should be proud. The research could potentially save lives, and that was Rhea’s greatest honor.

Although the infection in Rhea’s body spread slowly, it did continue to spread. After a few years, she began to feel the symptoms more aggressively. She would hear whispers in her ear, telling her awful things or bringing up twisted memories. She would see blood spatters on the wall or puddles of blood on the floor, dripping from the ceiling. Sometimes she would even relive that night in horrific clarity.

On certain days she would be extremely irritable, other times she would forget a whole day’s worth of memories. All these symptoms and more began to crop up one after another in increasing severity. Rhea knew that the demon was taunting her, that these were all side effects of having her soul be slowly devoured. She knew that she was losing control, that she was on borrowed time, and that someday she would succumb to this plague. But Rhea really, really didn’t want to die.

Rhea’s master suggested that she go to work at a lab to conduct her own research in more depth. Her master knew about some labs run by the Church and thought they might have more information that could help her there. She had already taught Rhea everything she knew, but with the Church’s resources, she might have more of a chance. A chance to save herself. A chance to live.

So, Rhea did just that. With her master’s recommendation, she got a job at a lab run by the Church of Solomon. With more resources and more experimental subjects, Rhea’s research progressed quickly. Of course, Rhea’s condition was a secret, but with other Condemned at her disposal, it was only a matter of time until she made a breakthrough. The girl was a prodigy when it came to anything she got her hands on. She soon developed the seals and was able to use them to save her own life, as well as the lives of other subjects. She no longer had to be afraid of dying an early, painful death.

But she still felt the seals could be improved, and that if she continued this way, she might even find a way to live forever. So, she kept researching and kept experimenting. But despite using their resources, at the end of the day, Rhea hated the Church. After all, they were the reason why her father was willing to throw her away for his reputation. She suspected they were the reason he had killed her mother, too.

Many children that came to her as test subjects were afraid of the Church. She told them not to fear, that the research they were doing had nothing to do with the Church of Solomon. She told them that they should be proud to be a part of it, that they were helping make the world a better place. That made some of the kids feel better, and it made Rhea feel better, too. After all, it was the truth, right?

Still, when the Church asked Rhea to use her research to develop human weapons, she was initially angry. That wasn’t what her research was for! At that point, she had become quite well-known for her accomplishments. She couldn’t refuse their request, and she had to admit she was a little fascinated by the possibilities as well. But even then, she couldn’t let them have their way. Handing the Church such a powerful weapon was something she refused to do, but she had to be clever about it.

Sometime later, Rhea was eating lunch when she felt something was off. Her sandwich had an odd flavor to it. She wondered if the bread she used had gone bad, or if her drink had left a bad aftertaste. Then it hit her. She had tasted this odd flavor before. Not just once or twice, but nearly every day for her entire childhood. It was in the soup. That flavor was the medicine. No, she realized. It was poison.

Many things clicked into place at that moment. She had drunk that medicine nearly every day, but her condition only ever got worse. The only thing that made her better was contracting Pneuma Morta. And her father hadn’t been happy with her recovery, he had been confused. He wasn’t finding doctors to prevent her from falling ill again. He was wondering why she had gotten better in the first place when she was supposed to be dead.

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It wasn’t only when she was a teenager that he had thought about killing her. He had been trying to get rid of her ever since she was a child. But why? Was he afraid that she would tell his secret?

But she had never told anybody, except….

No. He couldn’t have ratted on her. She refused to believe that. He promised not to tell a soul. And anyway, that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that someone was attempting to poison her now. That could only mean one thing.

Her father had finally found her, and this was his way of letting her know. He knew the poison wouldn’t kill her, but it acted like a calling card. He knew who she was. He knew where she was. And he was going to finish the job. Rhea understood the time had finally come for her to enact her plan. It was almost too perfect, the setup. This time, it wouldn’t just be about running away from the Church or from her father. It would also be about getting revenge and getting answers.

She had been giving anonymous tips to the resistance for months. A few more carefully planned leaks of information and everything would fall into place. The weapon would fall into resistance hands, and Rhea would escape amongst the chaos with her research, leaving it unable to be replicated. She would hunt down another silver jar as collateral, and use it as leverage to ensure her safety.

The last variable to get rid of was her father. After she made him tell her the truth about why he killed her mother, she would get rid of him and finally be free. The two sides would be busy fighting each other, and she could disappear into the shadows. Even if she did get caught, her knowledge was extremely valuable.

She had made herself too useful to kill for either side. Rhea had planted the seeds of destruction while making herself indispensable. No matter who found her first, they wouldn’t be able to harm her. With the jar, she would be able to negotiate her way out again. Nothing could go wrong.

The only thing she hadn’t accounted for was the fact that the boy from her childhood was now the head of the very resistance organization hunting her down. And he had no intention of letting her slip away again. Fate was tricky like that. It seemed that no plans were truly infallible.

—

“So that’s what happened eight years ago…” Atlas surmised, hand on his chin in thought. “I knew that scumbag was behind it.”

The group from the warehouse was now all sitting around the conference table in Atlas’s basement. Those who needed medical attention had gotten treated, and an array of food was set out before them. The head of the resistance seemed to be in a rather placating mood. Everyone knew it most likely had to do with the one sitting grumpily beside him.

Rhea had just finished recounting her tale, having long since stopped crying and resorted back to gloomy stubbornness. She sat with her arms crossed, the plate in front of her still empty despite the giant feast that had been laid out. The rest had been munching quietly as she talked, absorbing the information as it came out.

“I can’t believe you were behind all those tips this whole time,” Phoebe commented, exasperated.

“Is it really so surprising? I hate the Church of Solomon as much as the rest of you,” Rhea pointed out.

“Yeah, but your reasoning is beyond twisted,” Avida remarked angrily. “You only care about how they affected you personally.”

“Your reasons are personal, too, are they not? As you pointed out before, what does it matter as long as we’re on the same page?” the researcher asked.

As she spoke, Atlas picked up a piece of chicken and put it on her plate. Wisely, no one commented on it, but Rhea shot him an icy glare. The other just raised an eyebrow at her.

“What? I can’t even do this for you now?” he questioned. He was used to taking care of her in their youth, and he found himself doing the same now whether out of habit or something else.

“Can you cut it out!?” Avida barked. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s not even the slightest bit apologetic!”

“Why should I be?” Rhea argued.

“Do I need to spell it out? You experimented on children!”

“And? You’ve killed for money, have you not? You’re no better than me,” Rhea told her.

“It’s not the same,” Avida grumbled, sitting back in her chair.

“Really? How is it different, then?” Rhea goaded.

“Listen,” Atlas cut in, “this isn’t a philosophy class. At the end of the day, we have a common enemy, and we need to work together.”

“I don’t think she has the same goal as us,” Avida said. “She’ll probably just take the first chance to run away again.”

Rhea smirked at her.

“Well, who’s to say~” the researcher mused.

“Yeah, not a chance,” Atlas told her. “You’re not being let out of my sight.”

“Ugh, Why do you care?” Rhea complained.

“Because right now, I am responsible for you. And even though you may have had your reasons, you still did wrong. And you need to make up for that,” he said.

“Why me? No one else here is perfect, either.”

“I don’t care about anybody else. They can do whatever they want. I care about you,” Atlas stated.

Rhea was momentarily stunned. Her mouth hung open, not knowing what to say and unable to form a reply. She stared at him with wide eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty, but she was met with pure sincerity. Seeing she had nothing to say, Atlas continued.

“We may have both grown up, but I still know you. And I am not going to abandon you,” he told her.

Rhea finally composed herself enough to respond. She didn’t understand what Atlas meant by that, but she didn’t care to find out at the moment. She was still fixated on what he had said moments before, her mind struggling to play catch-up.

“You’re so annoying!” she eventually retorted before angrily picking up the chicken on her plate and taking an aggressive bite out of it. Atlas looked pleased with the action.

“Even if she’s valuable, do we have to work with her?” Avida protested again.

She was already fed up with the two, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like going forward. Plus, she genuinely wanted to see the researcher as little as possible.

“Unfortunately, cooperation is key. However, I understand where you’re coming from. If it makes any of you uncomfortable, I will work with Rhea separately and you won’t have to see her,” Atlas told them.

He looked pointedly around the room, making purposeful eye contact with everyone, trying to gauge their response. No one said anything in protest, but no one looked thrilled about the idea, either. The room was silent for a moment before someone spoke.

“It’s not really up to us,” Bellicosa said. “We haven’t asked the person whose opinion matters most what they think.”

Everybody knew what she meant. Bambi had been quiet since they first came back from the warehouse, not speaking a word or reacting to anything that was being said. She sat munching away on some snacks, Avida occasionally adding some veggies to her plate which she reluctantly ate as well. After taking a bite, she would quickly slide her silver mask back into place as she chewed, repeating the process throughout the meal that way.

Avida gently put a hand on her shoulder, and Bambi looked up at her with an expectant gaze, an unspoken question poised in her eyes. The mercenary suddenly realized how selfish she had been. Avida had only been thinking of her own experiences and feelings, not even considering how the girl who had served as the subject of the experiments felt about all of this.

If anyone should have a say in Rhea’s involvement in all of this, it should be Bambi. Ever since the second lab, the girl hadn’t reacted to Rhea’s presence at all, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bother her. Avida couldn’t believe she never even thought to check in with the girl. Sure, Avida was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that only meant that Bambi was probably even more so.

“Hey, Bambi,” Avida said softly. “How do you feel about that woman?” She pointed to Rhea across the room.

Bambi just tilted her head as if she didn’t understand the question. Avida supposed it was a little too loaded for the kid to answer, so she tried again.

“Do you never want to see her again?” Avida asked instead.

Bambi seemed surprised at that before she appeared to take a moment to think about it. She looked over at Rhea, who was staring back passively, not hostile but not overly warm either. Surprising everyone in the room, Bambi suddenly smiled at her. Although the mask was covering her mouth, her eyes formed tiny crescents, and her expression was obvious.

Rhea’s calculated neutrality cracked as a fraction of shock slipped through the facade, her features freezing in place. She had never treated Bambi especially harshly or anything, but still, a genuine smile was the last thing she expected to be directed her way. The girl was the type to be more fearful or solemn than anything, so this was unfamiliar even to the researcher. Unsure of what to do, she looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with Bambi. Beside her, Atlas smiled back at the girl reassuringly.

“No one… leave,” Bambi finally said, turning back to Avida.

Avida herself was still stunned and needed a moment to process what the girl said. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Especially considering Atlas’s words to Rhea from a few moments prior, ‘I am not going to abandon you.’ Had Bambi been paying attention the whole time? She wondered if the girl had the wrong idea of what would happen if she refused.

“She won’t be left alone, the man beside her will stay with her. But if being around her makes you sad, you have to let us know, okay?” Avida tried to explain, but it seemed Bambi had made up her mind already. The young girl just shook her head.

“Not sad. All together,” she told the mercenary.

“Alright…” Avida agreed, still hesitant. “But if it gets too much, tell me.”

Bambi nodded, and the room seemed to relax to some degree. Rhea was back to staring very deliberately at her plate. Though the rest of the room, apart from Atlas, had their hangups about the researcher, no one wanted to go against the wishes of the girl at the center of it all. They decided to let that topic drop for now.

“You still have your explaining to do, Atlas,” Avida suddenly told the man, not over the revelation from the warehouse. “Your father needs to pay.”

“I know that,” he replied with a sigh. “Why do you think I stuck so close to him for all these years? Haven’t you ever heard of ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”

“So you really see your father as an enemy?” Bellicosa questioned. It wasn’t that she had a problem with it, she just wanted to make sure Atlas would be able to do what he had to do.

“Of course. I am aware of all the awful shit he’s done, and I promise that he will be held accountable someday,” he assured them.

“Well, how soon is ‘someday’?” Avida asked impatiently. “I say we get rid of these jerks as soon as possible. Especially the archbishops.”

“It’s not that simple,” Rhea suddenly chimed in. “The Church of Solomon is extremely powerful and influential. If they were that easy to take down, don’t you think someone would have done it already?”

“Glad you two have each other’s backs,” Avida commented, rolling her eyes. “And I understand that, obviously, but isn’t there something we can do for now?”

“Even if we do, with how many followers the Church has, a lot of the public would just see us as villains. It wouldn’t do any good,” Phoebe pointed out. “The resistance already faces a ton of public backlash as is. Any damage without proof will be in vain.”

“That’s why we can’t act rashly without a plan,” Atlas added. “We need to damage their support. Otherwise, even if we take someone down, they’ll just be replaced, and the public will see them as a martyr.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Avida asked him.

“That’s where Rhea comes in. She knows more about the Church’s dirty secrets than any of us. We just need to have some of them come to light.”

“I still haven’t agreed to any of this! Isn’t anyone going to ask me my opinion?” Rhea objected.

“You don’t have a choice,” Atlas reminded her with a mischievous grin. “You’re a prisoner of the resistance now. If you comply, only then might you be let out on good behavior.”

“Is this a joke to you!?” the researcher snapped.

“No, but it is funny.”

“This is so infuriating. Never in a million years did I expect you of all people to get in my way.”

“I, for one, am thrilled that fate brought us back together.”

“Just wait, Titus. I will find an opportunity to get back at you for this!”

“Uh oh, you used my real name. I’m so scared.”

As they continued to bicker, the rest of the room settled into varying states of exasperation. Phoebe, after getting over the shock of seeing this new side of her boss, was fully fed up, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Avida sat angrily rubbing her temple in annoyance. Only Bambi remained blissfully unaware at her side, happily munching on whatever she could get her hands on. Bellicosa sat in awkward silence as she ate her food before she finally had enough.

“Are you two done yet?” she suddenly butt in with her mouth still full. “I, for one, would like to know what’s in that jar.”

She pointed to the silver jar which was currently sitting on the table in front of Atlas. The squabbling fell silent, and everyone turned their attention toward it, curious. Rhea had mentioned again and again how important it was, and that it was some kind of leverage over the Church, but she never once explained what it actually was. Avida had to admit, she was also dying to know.

“Do you remember what I told you about the different kinds of demons?” Rhea asked after composing herself.

“You said there are major demons and minor demons,” Avida recalled. “Most demons are minor demons, and the thing inside Bambi is a major demon…”

“That’s right,” Rhea replied. “And in that jar is another major demon.”

“...”

“It’s just sitting in the jar!?” Avida asked in disbelief, eyeing the jar with a now skeptical gaze.

“Only minor demons infect people with Pneuma Morta naturally. All known major demons are kept in jars like these,” Rhea explained. “They don’t occur naturally. They are sealed in the jar and then summoned into the host. To plant the major demon into Bambi and create a weapon, I was given a jar just like this.”

“So, how do you plan to use it as leverage?” Bellicosa asked.

“To my knowledge, there are only a few of these jars in existence. That makes them extremely valuable. The Church keeps them pretty well hidden, but I managed to track this one down. They will do almost anything to get it back, I’m sure of it.”

“And they’re going to make weapons out of them?” Phoebe questioned.

“Well, I suppose that was the plan. But that was a plan they needed me for. And now I have a jar of my own. They’re probably pretty scared right now,” Rhea said smugly. “I took my research with me, so it’s gonna be nearly impossible for them to replicate Bambi’s success.”

“And what are you going to use it for?” Avida asked, clearly suspicious of the other.

“A bargaining chip, obviously. I wasn’t planning on using it on anyone, calm down,” Rhea reasoned. “I wanted to use it to ensure my safety and demand answers from my father, but something tells me you guys aren’t gonna go for that,” she added with a sigh.

“You’re damn right! If this thing is so dangerous, we can’t let it fall back into the wrong hands,” Avida argued.

“I agree,” Atlas stated. “The jars could also result in more failed experiments, which means more meaningless deaths. Besides, we can’t let them make another successful attempt, however slim the chances may be.”

“There’s something else,” Rhea said suddenly. “Another, more important, reason I think it provides significant leverage against the Church.”

“What is it?” Bellicosa asked.

“I think the Church of Solomon is responsible for causing Pneuma Morta. And I think these jars are the key to proving it.”