Garo sat on a cushion with his back to the door. He had not seen her. At his sides were two male attendants, both kneeling. One held out a basin of water while the other held a tray of rags. The god had his head bowed as he personally sewed up the gory wound running through his chest.

Aria could have run. She should have. But her brain, in that most crucial moment, proved incapable of transmitting its commands to her legs.

Garo stiffened, turned, and locked eyes with her.

Most gods can see behind them.

The shock on Garo’s face was as comical as it was terrifying. “You!” He let the needle drop from his hand. The thread still attached to Garo’s chest kept it from reaching the ground. It hung suspended, swinging back and forth. “How did you get here?!”

Too late, her body finally caught up with her mind. She reached for the doorknob behind her. Garo was faster. His hands moved like the blur of an arrow, snatching something and flinging it at her in one movement. She caught a flash of silver, interpreted it as a knife before it collided with her throat, driving her into the door and pinning her there.

Air fled from her lungs. Her throat, split in two, ached so much pain that the world went black for a moment. In between gasps, each one threatening to tear her neck further, she lifted a hand and felt the knife’s handle.

She explored no further than that. Her attention was consumed by the sight of Garo stalking towards her, that threaded needle still dangling from his body. She thought to run, but she could not brave the blade that kept her in place. The slightest movement sent more pain through her when she could not have imagined that it could be worse.

Garo stopped before her, close enough that she could smell his breath. It smelled like day-old fish. His eyes pinned her more securely than the knife. Their redness, already nightmarish, now seemed to promise horrors just beyond the reach of her imagination.

He grinned like a boy anticipating his first taste of wine, manhood, and freedom. “Now, how did you escape?” He asked. “Let me guess: our soft-hearted prince freed you as he freed me. And you decided to return here?” He tossed his head to indicate the room. “To my service?” Like desert weather switching between scorching heat and freezing cold, his expression morphed once more, now to rage. “Answer me! Why are you here?!”

The room shook at his voice. Even the servants shook, though more from terror than force.

Aria moved her lips, but only air escaped. That was probably best. Had she been able, she would have told him everything.

With a disgusted snort, Garo pulled the knife from her, doubling her pain and momentarily claiming her vision. When she knew anything again, she was on the ground. Garo kicked her, roughly. His foot, though bare, was as hard as steel. With the same foot, he pressed down on her chest. For several seconds, he stared at her eyes, as if searching for something.

Then, he snorted, and turned away with a disgusted expression.

“Clean her up.”

For a moment, nobody moved. Then, before Garo’s anger resurfaced, two guards rushed to her side and took each of her arms. They helped her to her feet and half-dragged her from the room. Darkness took her before they reached the door, but not before she was treated to Garo’s delighted laughter.

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“Oi! Wake up!” Slaps rained down on both sides of her face. “Wake up! Wake up!”

She turned her head to avoid the abuse, but it returned harder.

She opened her eyes. A blue ceiling met her with a face partly obscuring it.

“Get up,” the man said. “It’s time to go.”

Her neck hurt, but not as much as she had expected.

“I’m alive?”

The man laughed. He wore the uniform of Garo’s guard and had a short spear nestled to his side. “Sweetheart, His Lordship could knife you for hours and leave you alive. Get up. Someone else has the pleasure of killing you.”

She raised a hand to her neck and felt thick cloth around it. Before she could fully register the finding, she was being pulled out of the bed. A second guard joined the first. Together, they hauled her to her feet and proceeded to drag her out of the room.

Workers stared as they went past. There were several whispers. She heard her name spoken several times, though not by anyone she recognized. She kept her gaze away from them. Her mind soon cleared and her legs recovered enough to hold her, but the guards retained their tight grip.They led her through several passageways until, suddenly, she was being dragged through the main door and out into the compound.

A few feet down the path to the main gate, Garo waited. He was already in his carriage, a metal platform with only one cushioned chair fixed to it and a less comfortable bench for the driver. The guards stopped to bow to Garo before throwing her facedown at Garo’s feet, and backing away.

Aria stayed down for a while, wary of Garo, but he said nothing to her. When the carriage had been moving for a full minute, she pulled herself to a sitting position and kept her eyes on the driver. She could not understand his job. He had no steering tools or platform. During the entire ride, he seemed to merely sit in his chair and stare straight ahead. He shifted twice - when they made the transition between realms and when the carriage halted. He seemed to relax as they halted, so perhaps driving the carriage required some mental effort. It was a shame that she could not ask.

They stopped above a familiar lake. The distant mountains and seemingly empty surroundings informed Aria that they were back in the upper realm, the Black God’s home. Garo dismounted first. He clicked his tongue, which Aria interpreted as ‘get over here’ and began walking before she had completely obeyed. The driver remained in the transport.

It was difficult to tell, but Aria suspected that their destination was different from those of her previous trip. She tried to fall back as they walked, but Garo stopped, waited for her to catch up, and then shoved her in front of him. His grip was painful, but it at least distracted from the pain in her neck.

A few steps later, the world flashed and they were indoors. There, familiar black floors and fuzzy walls formed a corridor. Further along, the walls opened into an enormous, circular room with a domed roof. A man stood beneath the arch leading into the room. He pulled himself to alertness as they approached, eyeing for Aria, and then Garo. He did not bow.

“State your business.”

Aria looked around him, partly for an escape and partly out of curiosity. There was a gilded throne at the far end of the room, floating higher than a man’s head. Otherwise, it was empty. Aria felt foolish then. She could not see the doorways in the place. Even the one they had come in through had disappeared behind her. She would hardly be able to escape even if it was allowed.

“I bring a gift for the Lord of the Sky, an escaped prisoner.” Garo shoved Aria.

The man eyed her once again, and then turned back to Garo. “I will deliver her. You may leave.”

“I - “

The man cut Garo off with a hand. “I have great respect for you, Great Conqueror.” By which he meant that he had no respect for Garo. “So, I will inform you that Our Lord is in an excellent mood today. Why, he was just telling me that his fondest wish is to lay eyes upon the cocksure deity whom he is certain should be impaled upon a stake but whom his dear son defiantly freed.”

Garo sniffed, turned, and walked away.

The man watched him until he disappeared into the foggy walls, and then sniffed. “That’s what I thought. Well,” he turned to Aria and smiled humorlessly. “Let’s take you to your destination.”