Location: Ba'al's Stronghold

"Kel'mah."

"Kel'mah," Rina echoed.

"In your tongue, it means 'sanctuary'."

Rina paused, glancing at their surroundings.

"Is this place a sort of kel'mah?"

"It is."

Ba'al drifted across the 'throne' room, seemingly without aim. A momentary silence stretched between them.

"Um, I've been meaning to ask..."

Ba'al turned toward her as she spoke, dark eyes fixing on her. Any sense of trepidation she'd formerly had in his presence had been lost the day he returned, now two weeks ago, yet he still had a way of making her nervous simply by existing in proximity to her.

"Why do you only use this voice with me?"

It'd been one of the many questions on her mind since the day she arrived here. The strangely fluid switch from sounding human to sounding inhuman and vice versa...it was uncanny, and incredibly confusing.

That now familiar smirk appeared on Ba'al's face as he replied, "The others have a certain...image of me that I wish to maintain."

"And what is that image?" Rina asked tentatively.

What are you to them that makes them so unquestioningly obedient to you?

Ba'al's smile grew.

"I am a god."

There was another spell of silence as Rina stared at him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"A god," Ba'al repeated.

More silence. Then Rina simply couldn't help herself. She burst into barely restrained laughter.

"You know," she said in between giggles, moving toward Ba'al's throne-like chair and leaning lightly against it, "One of the last thing my parents said to me was: 'God is looking down and judging you.' So now that our paths have unexpectedly crossed, do you care to confirm that?"

Rina stopped laughing the second she saw that the mirth in Ba'al's face had partly died.

"You're serious?" she asked in disbelief.

"Perhaps not entirely. Though I see little difference. After all, what is a god but a powerful being to be worshipped?"

"You're letting all these people think you're a god?" Marina reiterated, her disbelief mingling with a strain of disgust.

"You disapprove. And yet, by your account, your people have their own gods."

"That's—" Anger bubbled up inside Rina. "That really isn't any better."

"And why is that?"

Rina snapped, pushing away from the chair, her voice rising to a shout.

"Because my own fucking family used their god to justify beating me down and throwing me away!"

"And what did their god have to say of this?" Ba'al queried, appearing entirely unfazed.

"Nothing! Because he's a fucking figment of their imagination!"

Rina stopped, recalling suddenly who it was she was shouting at. She stepped back, seating herself on the arm of Ba'al's throne and forcing herself to calm down. She fixed her gaze on the floor, silently kneading her forehead with thumb and forefinger as she recalled the words Ba'al had used to describe the assumed potential of the weapon inside her.

"Is this why you wanted the weapon?" she asked quietly, not bothering to look at him, "So by extension you could appear more 'god-like'?"

You're pushing too much, the voice inside her warned, but she ignored it.

"You would blame me for wishing to use a weapon for its intended purpose?"

"You barely know anything about it! How would you know what its 'intended purpose' is?"

"What is any weapon intended for?" Ba'al reasoned, "To grant power to the one who controls it."

"But you don't control it," Rina snapped.

Stop talking, warned the voice again.

"No," Ba'al agreed, "I do not. At this stage, the weapon is too immature to be controlled."

There seemed to be a pointedness to his words, an underlying message that felt all too clear to Rina.

I was wrong. He's not afraid of me at all. That time I used the weapon was just a fluke, and he knows it. We're both out of our depth here...

Though Ba'al's next words seemed to indicate a different intended takeaway.

"It was most likely that very reason that enabled me to steal you away from Apophis."

Rina's anger turned cold.

"I'm guessing Apophis thinks he's a god too."

"I suspect he believes it in a far more literal sense than myself. And I doubt he's the only one."

Shock flooded through Rina.

"How many of there are you?"

"There are at least a score of system lords such as myself."

"System lords?" Marina echoed in sheer disbelief, "Just how many planets are in your system?"

She saw a sickening spark of pride in Ba'al's face as he answered, "Over a dozen."

Disbelief mingled with horror. For a split second, Rina thought she might faint.

"This is insane." Her voice was strained. "All those people...you made them think you're a god."

"And yet if I were not in my current position, you would still be in the hands of Apophis." There was a second of frigid silence before Ba'al continued. "I did not create the empire that allowed the system lords to rise to power. In truth, I held a rather lowly position at the time. But only a god can contend with a god."

Rina felt her breathing accelerating as she stared down Ba'al.

"I'm not so selfish that I'd just excuse lying to countless people just because it so happened to benefit me."

"So you would've chosen a lifetime of suffering at the whim of Apophis if it meant I was deprived of those who follow me?"

Rina swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cry. Every part of her wanted to scream 'no' at the top of her lungs. Yet the very idea that such a selfish impulse existed within her felt too horrible to comprehend.

But you've already been selfish, haven't you? an inner voice chided, You accepted those servants without protest.

No, that was different! She'd only accepted out of fear, afraid that if she was perceived as ungrateful, it would bring a world of pain crashing down on her. Besides, it hadn't been selfish...not entirely. If it was assumed she'd turned down the servants due to some inadequacy on their part, it would've been far worse for them, as demonstrated by how Ba'al had been willing to punish his Jaffa for her sake.

Even though I ran away...and it was no one's fault except mine.

But she hadn't said that at the time, had she? No, of course not.

Rina swallowed again, turning away so Ba'al wouldn't by chance see the tears in her eyes.

"They deserve to know the truth," she choked.

"And what do you think that would accomplish? Do you believe they would gain some sense of freedom?"

"Yes!"

Ba'al laughed. It stung.

"A naive outlook. They would be devastated. Lost. Angered. They could very well begin fighting amongst themselves, or they may even try to kill me. And were they to succeed in that attempt, I would simply be replaced by another among the system lords. Perhaps Apophis. Perhaps someone worse."

His words came as a slap in the face to Rina, a final nail in the coffin driving home the reality of her own selfishness. She'd made a vain grab for the moral high ground only to have it crumble beneath her feet.

"So...what?" she persisted weakly, "You're the lesser of many evils?"

"Well, that's a rather unkind way of putting it."

"Unkind?" Rina scoffed, unable to stop herself.

She could feel herself shaking with renewed anger. She dug her nails into her skin, forcing her gaze to the floor. She couldn't stomach this conversation any longer.

"I'll—I'll be in my room," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

Ba'al didn't stop her as she practically fled the room, leaving her to race blindly through the halls as fury and confusion coursed through her being.

This was wrong, so horribly wrong. And yet what good could she do by railing against it? She had no power. The only thing that gave her any leverage, any worth was the weapon inside her.

The weapon that she couldn't control.

Rina snapped to a halt, a stubborn spitefulness blooming inside her. Setting her jaw, she closed her eyes and concentrated, reaching out for the thing inside her. She'd triggered it once. What if she could do it again?

For several moments, she stayed that way, searching, straining. But there was nothing, no answer, not a single stirring within. Rina uttered a muffled scream of frustration, the sound echoing through the wide corridor, though she hardly cared if anyone heard. She tried to recall the feeling she'd experienced in the throne room when she'd first activated the weapon.

Terror. Pure, desperate fear.

Rina's anger winked out like a spent light bulb. The last thing she wanted was to go back to that feeling of sheer helplessness and horror. Slowly, she dragged herself onward, any will to control the weapon promptly abandoned.

There was nothing she could do. It was that simple. She couldn't claim control and she couldn't remedy Ba'al's monumental transgressions. Even on the slimmest chance that someone would believe her when she shared the truth, it would only be inviting chaos, as Ba'al had said.

But was it really better to believe a lie? Even if it was one that, as was the common claim with religion, gave comfort and purpose?

Was it even her place to tell the truth when she'd already been complicit in such a lie for the near-month she'd been staying within the stronghold? Yes, she hadn't tried convincing her servants she was a god or anything, but she'd let them believe she was someone worth waiting on hand and foot without even a hint of compensation.

And on top of everything was the irreconcilable truth that, despite Ba'al's schemes and intentions, he had saved her from Apophis, a debt Rina had no way of ever repaying.

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No way except one.

Upon reaching her luxurious quarters, Marina curled up at the foot of the bed, staring off at nothing in particular as she strayed into memories.

Years ago, some part of her had come to realize that the 'god' her parents believed in wasn't really to blame for how they'd treated her. He'd just been a tool to justify their actions, regardless of whether they consciously recognized that truth themselves or not.

But now, with the reality of Apophis and Ba'al's self-aggrandizement staring her in the face...

Guess the 'gods' have something against me...

Gods, karma, luck, the universe—what was the difference? It'd all been clearly weighted against her. And when at last it had seemingly turned in her favor, it had come with an unimaginable cost.

Freedom from the formerly unending nightmare...at the cost of her morality.

A soft knock came at the door and Rina lifted her head to find one of the servants standing there.

"Meal is served, my lady."

"Oh..."

Marina pushed to her feet, making her way to the door only to pause once she reached it. She considered her attendant for a moment, sinking into a thoughtful silence.

"Hey," she said softly, subsequently disrupting the quiet, "You should take the day off. Actually, take as many days as you want. The others should too."

The woman regarded her with confusion.

"Day off?" she echoed.

"Yeah. It means take the day for yourself. You don't have to do anymore work for me."

A spark of alarm appeared in the servant's eyes.

"I offend?" she asked hastily.

"No, no!" Rina explained hurriedly, "You've been doing a great job. I just want you to take some time to relax. I can take care of myself. Can you tell the others for me?"

The woman seemed unconvinced that this turn of events was supposed to be a good one, but she nodded and took her leave regardless. Rina watched her go, wondering if she might've simply been happier continuing in her allotted work. Had she merely condemned her servants to a day or so of worrisome idleness?

Was it possible her sense of morality was simply obsolete in this place? After all, she was in a whole other world, if not another galaxy.

The thought left her feeling unbalanced. If there was no longer a North for her moral compass to point to, how was she expected to operate in that area of her life?

She pushed the troubling thought away, forging ahead to the room where she always dined and chipping away at her lunch for a while. The absence of her servants throughout felt surprisingly strange, even despite the many times their presence had made things needlessly awkward. That unexpected sense of deprivation kept dragging Rina's thoughts back to the very subject she was trying to avoid. By the time she made her way to the pillared room, her mind was too agitated to focus on the music. Sighing in defeat, she settled just outside the entrance, her knees tucked under her chin.

"Would you not enjoy the performance more from inside the room?" a voice suggested gently.

Rina had been so wrapped up in chasing her own thoughts round and round that she hadn't noticed Shayla's approach.

"I'm a little...distracted," Rina admitted.

"Is something troubling you?"

Once again, it seemed Rina was an open book. She inhaled sharply.

"Do you trust him?" she blurted.

"Lord Ba'al?" Shayla discerned.

"Yes," Rina said even as her mind screamed at her to stop, "Do you trust him?"

Shayla blinked, clearly finding the question odd.

"I do."

"How long have you known him?"

"Since I was a child."

Shayla knelt elegantly beside Rina so that they were at eye level.

"Do you have any regrets?"

I'm treading dangerous ground.

"Regrets? No. It's been an honor to serve him."

There was no hesitation in her answer. After all, why would there be? She'd doubtless been taught since childhood that one couldn't speak ill of a god.

Except I was taught that too. Doesn't stop me from doing it.

Perhaps there was more to it. As far as Rina had witnessed, Ba'al had never mistreated any of his underlings. The only time he had even suggested doing so was to appease her.

Yes, he was lying to countless people.

But 'ignorance is bliss' as they say.

And the truth was particularly ugly.

"I can't be around someone who hates themselves!" Alex's words rang in Marina's ear like an unsummoned demon. "It's exhausting!"

Rina hurriedly stamped out the memory, turning her attention back to Shayla.

"What if..."

She hesitated.

The last thing I want to do is ruin her life because of MY doubts.

Tentatively, she pressed on.

"What if Ba'al wasn't a god? Would you still follow him?"

Shayla blinked again. "Yes."

Once more, there was no trace of hesitation. Was it possible Shayla knew the truth already?

She did say she was one of Ba'al's most trusted servants...

"Do you not trust him?" Shayla countered suddenly, taking Rina off-guard.

"No," Rina confessed, "Not really."

"Why not?"

So many reasons.

"There's too much that I just don't know or understand."

"More reason for you to rely on one who does know, is it not?"

She doesn't understand...

But was she really wrong? It'd been quite definitively proven that Rina was simply floundering in a world she didn't understand, grasping at the faintest semblance of control.

And Ba'al had done almost nothing but give it to her.

"Perhaps you should speak with him on this matter," Shayla suggested.

Rina laughed weakly, "I don't think that'd be the wisest thing. I'm not sure I'd get the most honest answers from him."

Shayla arose slowly, silently considering Rina for a few seconds.

"I believe he will be honest with you," she said.

Then she strode away, leaving Marina to digest those final words. Was there a chance Shayla could be right? Ba'al had certainly been surprisingly direct with Rina at times.

Come on, this is the same guy who's been lying to countless people about being a—

Realization struck Rina with the force of a freight train. How had she missed it? A god named Ba'al. It'd been the first damn thought that had popped into her mind the second she'd heard his name. Yet somehow, when he'd proposed his godhood, it had slipped her mind entirely.

Before she quite knew it, Rina was on her feet and moving quickly toward the throne room, steadily picking up speed with each step until she was running.

This could help me get home, she thought, a desperate hope channelling through her.

She grabbed for the wall as she flung herself around the corner into her chosen destination, trying hard not to lose her balance.

Thank goodness, he's here.

That certainly wasn't a thought she would've expected to have, but she was too swept up in the moment to ponder that fact for longer than a fraction of a second. Ba'al's dark eyes settled on her, though any uncertainty his gaze sparked within Rina was quickly overwhelmed.

"Why is your name in a thousands-year-old book on my world?" Marina demanded, "The people there aren't capable of space travel the way you are, and as far as recent history can tell, they've never met anyone who is, definitely no one who's running an intergalactic empire like you are. So how is that possible unless you or someone like you were there thousands of years ago and then left for whatever reason? How many planets fit that criteria?" There was the briefest pause before Rina barrelled ahead with her conclusion. "This could help you narrow down any possibilities for where I might've come from."

Silence blanketed them. Ba'al's face donned a look of thoughtfulness. Then his expression slowly shifted to something unreadable. Misgivings stirred in Rina's gut as he advanced toward her.

"Why do you wish to return home?" he queried.

Rina stared at him.

"I've already answered that."

"And yet you recount tales of a family who mistreated and discarded you."

Shit. I gave him something to use against me. What the hell was I thinking?!

Rina took a step back even as Ba'al drew closer. Subtle anger churned within her.

"That was years ago. My life moved on."

"So then what is it you wish to return to?" Ba'al pressed, closing in on her.

"Why should I tell you?" Rina persisted, backing away further.

For the first time, Ba'al actually raised his voice.

"Because I simply wish to know what it is you feel my hospitality is lack—"

"Nothing!" Rina snapped.

This time, she stepped forward, standing almost toe to toe with him.

"I have nothing worth going back to! Are you happy now?!"

Rina caught herself, retreating hastily with averted gaze. She wondered at what point she had so thoroughly abandoned caution, at what point she had become comfortable enough to push back against Ba'al so frequently and so readily. But the reality was that it wasn't a single moment that had caused it but a collection of them.

Each act of generosity.

Each unabashed compliment.

Each gesture of care, no matter how seemingly miniscule.

The truth was that every shred of comfort and confidence Rina had gained was all owed to Ba'al. And it made her feel confused, guilty, vulnerable.

She couldn't let herself be vulnerable. She couldn't—

"It's not so wrong to think of yourself, Rina."

Marina lifted her gaze quickly, her brow furrowing.

"What?"

Once more, Ba'al closed the space between them.

"You consider it selfish to spare yourself torment at the cost of my deception." He reached out, his fingers running gently through her hair as he looked her dead in the eye. "You value yourself so little?"

His words were like a knife to the gut. Rina stumbled back, her eyes burning with tears. Alex's voice echoed once again within her cranium.

"Someone who hates themselves..."

"No," Rina gasped, her vision blurring, "That's not true."

"Why deny yourself when you deserve everything you wish for and more?" Ba'al persisted, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "You deserve to be treated as a queen."

His words carved into Rina, bringing to the surface emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in so long. After the innumerable times life had smacked her down, made her think she deserved nothing good, she couldn't deny how deeply she'd longed to hear those words.

Yet all she wanted to do in that moment was cry.

She fought the urge in vain, covering her face as the tears began to flow.

"Of the worlds I remember that suit your description, many of them were abandoned for good reason and have since been lost to us," Ba'al explained, his tone almost jarringly casual, "But I will not neglect to consider this information."

"What?" Rina choked, unshielding her tear-stained face, "But I thought—"

"Rina." Something about the way he said her name sent uncertainty and warmth to battle within her. "You must pay better attention. I said you deserve whatever it is you wish for. There was nothing dishonest in that, I assure you."

Rina watched his face in quiet astonishment, her mind recalling Shayla's words.

"He will be honest with you."

"Really?"

Her question came as a mere whisper. Ba'al smiled.

"Of course."

Rina swallowed.

"I..."

I don't know what to say.

Once more, Ba'al reached out, his fingers brushing away the tears on her cheeks. Marina tried to turn her head away, embarrassment causing her face to flush. But those hands shifted, guiding her back, keeping her gaze fixed on him. Ba'al's eyes seemed to bore into her, causing her to break the eye contact after mere seconds. Rina searched for something to dispel the unspoken tension, grasping at the first thing that came to mind.

"One question."

Ba'al withdrew his hands.

"What is it?"

"Are you really thousands of years old? Or was there an original Ba'al whose title was eventually passed down to you?"

It has to be the latter, right? I mean, I figured he isn't completely human, but still, THOUSANDS of years? There's no way.

Ba'al's characteristic smirk grew.

"There is only one. And I've existed for millennia."

Rina was stunned.

"How's that possible? You look human."

"What you see is merely a host."

"Host?" Rina echoed, her brow furrowing, "What, you mean like in the same way that I'm one?"

"No." Ba'al interlocked his hands behind his back. "There is no weaponry or technology of any kind involved in my own circumstance. Those of my race simply require a host to survive."

"So this body isn't yours?"

"It is. It simply had a previous inhabitant."

"Wait." A sickening feeling stirred in the pit of Rina's stomach as she thought of her own situation. "Did you steal someone's body?"

"No. I merely accepted a sacrifice made to ensure my survival."

"So this guy gave up his body for you," Rina said skeptically, "Why would he do that? Because he thought you were a god?"

"You begrudge my survival?"

"No! It's just that..." She struggled to find the words. "Taking a life to save a life feels—"

"What? Is that not a fair exchange?"

In this case, no.

Yet she couldn't deny the countless times that she'd wished her misfortunes on someone else, that someone else had been stolen away in the night and subjected to Apophis' torture, that someone else had been implanted with the weapon. Though even as she felt the first vestiges of guilt within her, Ba'al's words resounded in her head.

"It's not so wrong to think of yourself."

A part of her still balked at the idea. Yet was it really fair to expect someone in her position to want anything less?

"Is there...?" Rina hesitated. "Is there anything left of him?"

"No," Ba'al answered, "Nothing of the host survives."

Rina locked eyes with him, searching for some hint that he could be wrong. But she saw none. A creeping despair settled over her. She dropped her gaze, her voice lowering back to a whisper.

"Is that what's going to happen to me? Once this weapon reaches it's full potential, will I just...disappear?"

How much time do I even have before that happens? How many more times in the sarcophagus before I might wake up not as me?

"I cannot say for certain," Ba'al admitted.

Angry tears filled Rina's eyes, a bitter laugh starting to form in her throat.

"There's no point in me wanting anything good for myself," she desponded, "The universe or karma or what-the-hell-ever has apparently decided I don't deserve nice things."

"Well then," Ba'al said with a renewed smile, "How fortunate that you have a god on your side."

Rina contemplated him silently, unsure whether to voice the question in her head.

Are you really on my side? Would someone as self-serving as you choose me over the weapon?

She left it unspoken.

"I need time to think," she sighed, turning away.

"You should dine with me this evening," Ba'al said, effectively stopping Rina in her tracks.

She considered the offer. It might not hurt. In fact, it could work out quite well considering she'd dismissed her servants and had little clues as to how to prepare the foreign food of this world. She partly turned back, her expression flat.

"Okay," she answered simply.

Ba'al's smile broadened despite the rather lackluster response. In a few strides, he drew alongside her, his hand trailing softly up her back, which had been left exposed due to her backless dress. His touch traced the spot where Rina had so often felt the bite of Apophis' knife, sending warning signals exploding through her body. Whatever Ba'al was saying in that moment, Rina couldn't hear it. And before she could even comprehend what she was doing, her hand smacked against his shoulder, forcing him away.

"Don't!" Rina hastily backed away, every nerve inside her screaming. "Don't touch me there..."

Her breathing was ragged. She tried to get a handle on it, sinking to her knees and staring at a spot on the floor as she tried to regulate each gasp of air.

It's not him, she reminded herself, Ba'al wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt me that way.

And somehow, despite every doubt that had ever plagued her, she believed those words. Her breathing started to slow. She kept her eyes pinned on the floor, making a shaky attempt to speak.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said between breaths, "My..."

She closed her eyes, stretching her hands out flat on the floor and focusing on its cool, smooth surface. Then she tried again.

"My mind...sometimes tells me I'm in danger...even when I'm not."

She opened her eyes to find Ba'al kneeling in front of her, listening attentively. He seemed almost understanding.

"That's what happened the day I came here," Rina explained.

She ducked her head, closing her eyes once more.

"Apophis used to cut me there. Over and over and over—"

Her voice cracked. She drew a long shuddering breath, tangling her fingers in her own hair. Ba'al's hands settled on her forearms, grasping lightly. Rina opened her eyes again, meeting his gaze. A sinister rage spread through her system.

"I want him dead," she hissed, "I want him dead a thousand times over."

Ba'al smirked.

"His life for yours. A fair trade."

This time, Rina felt no trace of guilt.

"Yeah."

Ba'al shifted his hold to just below her elbows, gently helping her to her feet.

"That can be arranged," he said, "A thousand deaths, as requested."

Rina almost felt like a suffocating weight had been lifted off her. Unthinkingly, she leaned forward, her eyes fluttering shut, her head coming to rest on Ba'al's chest. In that second, as Ba'al cradled her head in one hand, his warm breath washing over her scalp, Marina couldn't have cared less about her own misgivings and moral objections.

She finally felt okay. And, even if it was selfish, that feeling was all that mattered to her.