Narcissa awoke to find a hand shaking her shoulder. She pulled herself to one side, shielding herself with the covers. Her hair falls over her shoulders. She must have looked ravishing in the morning light coming from the sun sphere on her wall. She saw Alkela looking down at her through bleary eyes, dressed for battle and travel. Narcissa sighed.

"Give me five more minutes, Alkela."

Alkela shook her again. Narcissa threw the covers at her and stood up. Alkela had never been one to let someone sleep in or rest easy; she'd always slept first watch on the streets.

"Fine, fine. I'm up already." She opened the window and peered out into the morning light. The black stone sundial said that mass would be in two hours.

With a sigh, Narcissa began to dress appropriately. First, she chose some of the more modest garments available. A pair of black pants that clung to her lower legs and a tight shirt that bared her midriff. She supposed she should wear something skimpier when going to mass but screw it.

They eat breakfast in silence. From there, Narcissa made her way to the armory. She drew the giant axe off the wall and entered the courtyard to train. Alkela did the same with her spiked gauntlets.

"Why do you like those gauntlets so much?" asked Narcissa, spinning the axe and practicing her stance. "It isn't as though they have any reach."

Alkela said nothing, of course.

The training they had gone through over the past two years had seemed easy, even when worked to the bone. However, Narcissa was already moving up to greater levels of proficiency. She remembered techniques she had already learned rather than learning them from scratch. Everything clicked into place quickly.

Illaryus said that they must have been warriors in another life. Narcissa wondered about that. Was it another life? Supposedly, the memories of previous lives helped you later on. Affected you from beyond your grave.

Today, Narcissa swung her blade quickly, trying the more progressive stances. And then she accidentally swung near a wall. The axe's edge crashed against the wall and was jarred from her hands. A giant crack appeared in the wall, and some stones fell.

Narcissa flinched and quickly picked up the axe. She was afraid the wall would fall in entirely like last time. Fortunately, she's managed to pull back at the last minute. Unfortunately, Illaryus entered the courtyard, clapping.

"Well, that will have the stonemasons working tonight," said Illaryus. "I have told you to be careful when wielding those."

"I'm sorry, Master Illaryus," said Narcissa. "I'm just... distracted, is all."

"About what?" asked Illaryus.

"These powers..." said Narcissa, feeling a bit awkward. How did someone as ugly as Ilaryus survive in Zigilus anyway? He didn't seem like anyone's type. It was pure combat skill. "I've sparred against many of the other Bloodlusters and beaten them. I'm killed raishans by the dozens, and it all comes so quickly.

"But I've only been doing this for six months. This seems like something more than just a memory from a past life. I remember the lessons on anatomy. My muscles shouldn't have adapted so quickly."

"It probably is something more," admitted Illaryus. "There is a demonic will working through you both. Ensuring your body and spirit become what you need to be far more quickly than is typical.

"When a power, demonic or otherwise, puts that kind of effort in, it is for a purpose."

"What kind of purpose?" asked Narcissa.

"Perhaps they wish you to be in a state where you are ready for some great task," said Illaryus. "Or perhaps you are acting as a vessel."

"A vessel?" asked Narcissa. "What do you mean?"

"There have been cases when powerful demons possess mortals of their own bloodline." said Illaryus, "Usually, they must be specially prepared. This, however, is an unparalleled honor, and I doubt Her Radiance has any interest in the matter."

"What makes you so sure?" asked Narcissa, self-conscious as she adjusted her hair. Why shouldn't she be worthy of possession?

"It merely isn't her Radiance's style," said Illaryus. "She prefers the indirect approach to all things. To work through others, not lead directly.

"In any case, the service will soon begin. Therefore, you should make yourselves presentable."

Narcissa nodded.

Presentable meant bathing, of course, and then wearing more formal clothes. Narcissa and Alkela were high-ranking now, which meant showing a lot of skin. Narcissa's outfit consisted of little more than a black brassiere. That and a long skirt that was split on both thighs. It was designed to draw attention to their superior frames.

"Many people question the purpose of pain and hardship," the High Priest said. "Why is it that the farmer must plow fields before the harvest. Or the smith works the metal before creating it. The end result of both things is the pleasure of creation.

"Yet why must such effort be made?

"The effort one puts into achieving delight gives the delight meaning. Without working to cultivate the fields, the banquet would have no meaning. That is the paradox of pleasure, as Her Radiance-"

Narcissa looked away to admire the architecture of the Sanctum of Zigildrazia. Use, elaborate arches, and grand pillars were everywhere. She looked to Alkela, who looked just as bored as she did. She was resting her head on one arm.

"You know, I learned a strange thing from Garacel yesterday," said Narcissa. "He told me that Zigilus wasn't designed based on Dinis architecture. Instead, it was based on the stonework of a place far to the west called Harlenor.

"See, they had this great King, Anoa the Builder, or Anoa III. He made all kinds of great fortifications. And also constructed a city. Zigildrazia was trying to establish herself there at the time. She liked the look of his cathedrals so much she adapted it for her own."

Alkela looked at her through lidded eyes. Narcissa leaned back.

"Well, that's what I read, anyway," said Narcissa. "I also heard they don't have pole dancing at the end of sermons. Demonic Archons know how they keep anyone going to mass."

Alkela glared at her.

"What?" whispered Narcissa. "This is boring." She looked up at the masses and observed the dancers begin their routine. Unfortunately, the pole dancers weren't excellent, not putting enough lust into it. It was just a job to them.

The dancers were pretty, not that it was to their credit. Ugly children were ritually sacrificed. But they were sloppy in how they swung themselves around the pole. In other circumstances, Narcissa could have been a performer of these rites. She knew the quality when she saw it. This wasn't it. Probably someone's cousin or something.

"Let's get out of here," said Narcissa. "It isn't anything we haven't heard a thousand times." She slipped out of the bench while everyone else was gawking. Alkela followed.

They made it as far as the outer hall before they rounded a corner and found Illaryus waiting for them. His arms were crossed, and he looked at them disapprovingly. "Narcissa, Alkela, I don't suppose you could not slip out during the mass?"

Alkela pointed at Narcissa as if to say it was all her fault. Traitor.

"I'm sorry," said Narcissa, "I was hoping I wouldn't get caught."

"The pole ceremony is vitally important in pursuing lust," said Illaryus. "You should at least try to attend it."

"Fine, I'll go there the next time," said Narcissa, walking past him. "I'd just rather be hunting raishans than sitting through ceremonies."

"Most people enjoy them," noted Illaryus.

"We like to make ourselves useful," said Narcissa.

Alkela shoved her.

"...I," amended Narcissa, "I like to make myself useful. And I also like fighting a lot more than watching a dance. Whether it's by a man or a woman." She halted. Something was at the edge of her senses. A power... "Do you sense that, Illaryus?"

"I do," said Illaryus. "Go, if you will."

Narcissa and Alkela quickly retrieved their weapons and donned their battle armor. It concealed more than her formal wear and less than her regular clothes. Her arms and legs were left entirely bare, as was the center of her stomach. It also showed off a lot of cleavage, so she looked perfect, as usual. Alkela's was much the same, except with several bangles on her arms and legs. Though obviously, Alkela looked slightly less perfect than Narcissa, that was a given.

Only Zigildrazia was better.

The two of them made their way through the streets. They were empty. Everyone wise had gone indoors. There must have been a raishan alert. Narcissa kept her axe close. She wished someone was around to see her; she probably looked very good.

As they entered a square, they circled around a huge fountain. The flowing of water could not distract from the presence here. The jangling of wind chimes could not conceal it. They jangled louder and louder.

"It's coming from here, but it hasn't entered the mortal plane yet," said Narcissa.

And then the disruption of the world came into full view. A massive serpent with the head of a beetle surged into contention. Limbs tipped with scythes slashed at Narcissa. She stepped back, swung around her axe, and caved in the skull.

Even as she did, more of them emerged. She saw Alkela dodging back and forth, her arms and legs smashing through the creatures. Narcissa moved aside as gobs of acid shot toward her and landed in the fountain. The water foamed and bubbled over as she cleaved the raishans responsible in half.

And yet, there were still more of them coming.

On and on they came, one after another, and no matter how many Narcissa cleaved down, there were always more. Finally, Alkela ripped them to shreds, only to find more. Where were the guards? How had so many of the creatures appeared here?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The ground was littered with bodies. And Narcissa loved it. She loved how the blood flew into the air as she cleaved their skulls! She loved how they screamed when she cut them in half! She loved everything about it! Especially the way the blood felt as it drenched her form. Never before had she felt so alive except when doing this!

Then there was a war cry. A huge giant leaped off the rooftop and landed on the cobblestones. He was clad in heavy armor and moved forward, dozens of flaming whips surrounding his wrist. More guards came from the surrounding regions. Soon the raishans around them were slaughtered so much for fun. The giant lumbered up to them.

"Grakus," said Narcissa. "Where were you?"

"Waiting," said Grakus without apology. "The beasts were gathering here. If I'd headed them off, they would have stopped gathering. Better to destroy the lot in exchange for a few peasants than let them ravage the countryside for weeks."

That made sense. Narcissa knew he had orders and didn't want to be inconsiderate. "Sorry, I was trying to help."

"There were far more of these lately than expected," said Grakus, pleased. "Things are advancing well?"

"What thing?" asked Narcissa.

"My plan to resurrect Typhos. I'm using the souls of raishans to create the bloodshed necessary to fuel her rebirth," said Grakus. "I believe I told you about this once before."

"Oh right, that plan," said Narcissa. Grakus worshipped a dead god. She didn't understand, but she wasn't inclined to judge. "So, how is it going?"

"Very well, as I said," said Grakus. "You see the cosmic scale changes from order to chaos every so often. Good to evil. It has shifted to chaos recently, and plans are already in motion to ensure this opportunity is used."

"Why weren't the other opportunities used?" asked Narcissa.

"Zeya the Cursed went to great lengths to exterminate the brood of Typhos," said Grakus. "We were forced into hiding or wiped out. And until now, whenever the tides of chaos rose again, we were too weak to act.

"Now, however-"

"I believe you've said enough, Grakus," said Garacel's voice.

Narcissa turned to see Garacel walking toward them from another street. His blade was in his hand and covered in blood. Bringing up his red cloak, he wiped it from the sword, then sheathed it. "I have slaughtered several hundred of the beasts in the fields around the city. Their spirits are now contained."

"Master Garacel," said Narcissa.

"I must congratulate the both of you," said Garacel. "You are both proving worth the time invested in your training."

"Thank you, Master," said Narcissa.

"I note the both of you fight with great enthusiasm," said Garacel.

"Yes," said Narcissa. "I... when I'm killing something, the sensation is addicting. I don't know why. I remember the first time I killed a raishan. I hit it with my axe, and the blood spewed all over me; I... I actually wanted to drink it.

"Is that normal?"

"Perfectly," said Garacel. "You are a Bloodluster, after all. Zigildrazia is among the greatest warriors of the Seven Demonic Archons. So, it is natural that you would inherit some of her nature. Only Fortenex is stronger."

"Where does Typhos stand in the hierarchy?" asked Narcissa. She wanted to know more about what Grakul had been talking about. Though she might have already heard the answer and forgotten it.

"She is Typhos," said Grakul, as if that explained everything. "The Mother of all Monsters, the Demonic Archon of Gluttony. And the Goddess of Chaos."

"That's a lot of domains," noted Narcissa.

"Yes, well, there is a great deal of overlap between the three of them," said Garacel. "And Typhos was always somewhat unique among the creatures of the universe. She never truly fit into any of the three pantheons.

"She was too savage and destruction for the holy. Too unnatural for the spirit world. And lacked the malice necessary to work under Diabolus. Though that is less of an issue now."

"If she was so powerful, how could Zeya and Elranor kill her?" asked Narcissa.

"'Kill' may be too strong a word," said Grakul. "The powers of her spirit were trapped deep within the earth, far to the west, in a land called Khasmir. And her body was burned. Only the heart remains, and it still beats deep within Zigildrazia's palace."

"But that is none of your concern," said Garacel. "Come, we have other business."

He led them away. As they walked, Narcissa walked to stand next to Garacel. "Master Garacel, I'd like to ask you something."

"Then ask," said Garacel.

"Well, aside from Illaryus, all the servants of Zigildrazia are beautiful," said Narcissa. "Seductive. A spirit in a suit of armor seems a bit out of place."

"It is," said Garacel. "I do not have my uttermost source in Zigildrazia. Long ago, I was the God of Love. I served the god of order, Valranor. When Baltoth overthrew him, I opposed Baltoth and fought against him in a series of wars. This was around the time Zeya was fighting Typhos. I believe it was..." He turned and pointed upwards toward the great Mount Lightstike. It was charred black, except for the greenish top. "Right there. Yes. Zeya plunged a mountaintop through her stomach. You can still see the dried blood to this day. Where was I?"

"A war with Baltoth?" said Narcissa.

"Ah, yes, that," said Garacel. "Well, Baltoth has always been a spiteful monster. He deluded himself that I had turned one of his many lovers against him."

Narcissa paused. "Who was she?"

"A manifestation of an ancient elven god, lost to history," said Garacel. "Her true name was Dreamora, but he called her by another name. It's a translation of sorts; I can't remember it. Baltoth took this personally and destroyed my domain utterly through underhanded tactics. I made a final stand and challenged him to single combat.

"He simply sent his armies after me. I remember the shining armor of my warriors as we made our stand. How we drove the enemy before us. Steel fell on steel, and brave men fought for what they believed. Brothers in arms gave their lives for men they'd never known.

"I remember when the battle began, it was in a clear field with the morning sun looking down. The grass was dripping from the dew.

"By the end, my enemies lay dead by the thousands, scattered among my fellows. The night was falling, and the moon shone, beautiful and white, unmarred by the carnage below. And I alone was unconquered. It was the moment of my life.

"Had I died then, it should have been a good death."

"Are you sure you were a Love God?" asked Narcissa.

"Yes," said Garacel. "I aided people in finding the right match all the time. But I also loved battle. So few things made me feel more alive than the blood rushing through my veins as I fought a worthy opponent. And there were so few of them.

"In any case, it was not death that awaited me. I was... maimed, my body destroyed.

"My spirit was trapped within an idol, and I was cast down into the midst of a mine shaft. There, I languished for untold centuries. Perhaps even millennia. The time could be clearer to me.

"My domain of love was taken by one of Baltoth's children, who sought rulership of these lands. When she failed, Zigildrazia took her place as the dominant power. She created the domain of Dinis, though some say it was forged by Safara."

"But how did you end up serving her?" asked Narcissa.

"She found me powerless and screaming within the mine," said Garacel. "She inserted my spirit into the armor and gave me a chance to serve her. I have done so since."

"How long ago was this?" asked Narcissa.

"I do not know," admitted Garacel. "I do not sleep or eat. Nor do I see the day or night. I sense with my will. The passing of a year is no different to me than the passing of a day."

"So, are you trying to restore your old self?" asked Narcissa.

"Zigildrazia has promised that should I serve her faithfully, she will restore me." said Garacel, "However, it is a complicated matter. You see, my reputation as her Seeker and the power of those I have killed should have restored me. Unfortunately, the armor still keeps me imprisoned. And until I am bested, killed in battle, I can never take on my true form."

"Then why not just destroy yourself?" asked Narcissa. "Or can't you do that?"

"Suicide is a coward's escape," said Garacel. "I never understood what the people of Namina saw it. Nevertheless, I shall never give up my spirit so long as I can fight on. I will fight on against a thousand opponents.

"Until I have been slain by one worthy of the honor. Which may not be long, depending on how the recent plans turn out." He paused. "There is also my professional pride to consider."

"What do you mean?" asked Narcissa.

"I am bound to Zigildrazia's will so long as I am within this armor," said Garacel. "That was part of our contract. So, ending my existence within the armor would not technically be a breach of contract. But it would be against the spirit of the deal.

"When one makes a contract, one ought to keep it." His helmet turned to the sky. "Still, once I am restored, I have another task to perform."

"What's that?" asked Narcissa.

"The destruction of Baltoth and all he represents," said Garacel. "That day may come soon. And you both may greatly help us in that matter."

"Glad to help," said Narcissa.

And then, as they reached the gates of the Sanctum, Dakan appeared. He adjusted his hat. "Good evening, Garacel."

"Dakan, what is it now?" said Garacel.

"I thought you may wish to know of a recent opportunity that has come our way," said Dakan, drawing out a scroll. Was he trying to sound like a snake? "The details are within this scroll."

Garacel unrolled it, being careful not to tear the paper. He read it carefully. "...So, our mutual friend has made his move, has he?"

"Yes," said Dakan. "He may be trustworthy."

"Don't be a fool, Dakan," said Garacel. "He knows our peril. The Emperor has been entertaining emissaries from many lands. And among them are priests of Elranor."

"What shall we do, then?" asked Dakan.

"This may be a trap. But we do not have time to wait," said Garacel. "The Emperor is making his move as we speak. We must act before it is complete.

"We will take the bait. And the trap shall strike nothing but air. This will help the mouse escape the metal jaws and feast upon the cheese. So the house owner will be frustrated, and all his efforts will be in vain."

"Unless the cheese is poisoned," noted Narcissa.

"You needn't fear," said Garacel. "For the mouse has long foreseen such an action and taken steps to become immune to all poisons that-" He paused. "This metaphor has gotten somewhat out of hand.

"Dakan, get our forces together. We'll go to the Kingdom of Khasina, steal the Blade of Chaos, and kill everyone. You can't spring a trap if you're dead."

Narcissa blinked. "You mean that the Kalthakian Kingdom which tried to invade us? The one Illaryus defeated singlehanded?"

"The same," said Garacel. "Though the stories exaggerate. Narcissa Alkela, you should prepare yourselves for a journey. We'll be going into Calisha soon.

"Dakan, would you get them decent armor?"

"What's wrong with this?" asked Narcissa.

Garacel turned to her. "Calisha is not as attuned to hell, so such an outfit would kill you quickly."

"What?" said Narcissa. "But it bears my midriff and shows off cleavage. My legs are completely exposed."

"Yes," said Garacel. "That is the problem. In the domain of Zigildrazia, that kind of outfit is better armor. In Calisha, it is... not."

Narcissa nodded. "Right. Come on, Alkela."

"And Narcissi," said Garacel.

"Yes?" asked Narcissa.

"Clean the blood off yourself," said Garacel.

Narcissa nodded.

The armor Narcissa was expected to wear was heavy, bulky, and covered her entire body. She could hardly see outside the helmet and pulled it off in frustration. Then, looking at herself in a mirror, she saw it had messed up her hair.

What kind of armor messed up how you looked?

"So what do you think about all this, Alkela?" asked Narcissa, putting on a brave face. "Scared?"

Alkela shook her head, testing the weight of a mace. Narcissa sighed. "No, didn't think so. I can't believe we're heading out into Calisha. A few months ago, I figured we'd never see outside of this city."

Alkela swung the mace, and it nearly took Narcissa's head off. "Watch where you swing that!" Alkela pulled it back apologetically.

At that moment, Dakan appeared from the shadows. How did he do that? "How are you ladies adjusting to your armor?"

"Quite well," lied Narcissa. "So, what exactly do you do anyway?"

"I trade information, of course," said Dakan. "My purpose is to ensure everyone knows what they need. For a price."

"Well then, could you make sure I know why this armor is so bulky?" asked Narcissa. "How is anyone supposed to know if I'm beautiful."

"The bulk is the point," said Dakan. "An appeal to lust is a powerful thing within Dinis. However, in the world beyond, it is not. They are not quite so... concerned with appearances."

"Yeah, I remember what Garacel said," said Narcissa. "It's still horribly heavy."

"I gather the knights of Harlenor prefer it that way," said Dakan.

"Harlenor?" said Narcissa. "Garacel told me it made the construction this Sanctum was based on. It's uh... it's located... it'll come to me."

"It is a savage land to the far west," said Dakan. "They serve the God Triumvirate. The God of Healing, Elranor, is the head of their pantheon. Laeivan, Lady of the Wilds, and Barden, Lord of Civilization, are his compatriots.

"Still, I gather Her Radiance is hoping to establish colonies there. So it must not be entirely barbaric."

"How are we supposed to colonize a far-off place?" asked Narcissa.

"Conversion, of course," said Dakan. "Direct conquest is such a bother. What do you think of your look?"

Narcissa put the helm back on and looked at herself. She looked like a smaller version of Garacel with an axe. "... It's a bit masculine. But I like it. What do you think, Alkela?"

Alkela looked at the mace in her hand. Then she tossed it at the mirror. Narcissa caught it in midflight, laughing. "It isn't that bad."

"Bad or not, we'll need to go soon," said Dakan. "My sources tell me that two legions have been dispatched by the Emperor of Dinis."

"The Emperor?" asked Narcissa. "Why would he send troops here, anyway? Zigildrazia was given Zigilus by his ancestor. It is promised to her forever."

"I'm afraid mortals are prone to welch on their promises a few generations in," said Dakan. "When they say 'forever,' they mean 'until my descendants decide it is no longer convenient.'"

"Aren't you mortal?" asked Narcissa.

"Only partially," said Dakan. "The blood of Neseriah, the Bat God, runs strong through my veins. And I am no stranger to self-deprecation." He reached forward as if to touch her.

Narcissa flinched away. "How could we repel them? The legions are said to be invincible."

"Many things are said to be one thing and are another," said Dakan. "But that is the thrust of this mission if you know what I mean."

Narcissa decided she did not like Dakan.