Samir's facial expression crumpled for half a second, before he'd brought it back under minimal control. "You," He heaved, turning to her, enraged, looking as though he might rend her - or her enemies - limb from limb. She wasn't sure which. "How long have you been thinking this way?"

Either way, Eve jerked a good distance away. "I only mean to make sure everyone else is safe."

"You've always been like this. So foolish. Too private. How many times do I have to say this to get it through your thick skull?" He ran a hand through his thick dark hair. It fell, irritatingly, right back into place. "Eve. Evelyn. You are no longer alone."

"Ok?" She squeaked, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. Samir watched her with the attention of a crouching lion. As her eyes met his, cautious, the intensity of his gaze seemed to double, sending a tiny, instinctual shudder down Eve's spine.

If she wasn't sure that he was angry before, now, she was certain. Staring at him, words drying at the tip of her tongue, any excuse she could come up with in that moment seemed insufficient. A furrow built between his brow, and he reached for her, hand curling around her neck.

Eve didn't stop him. His thumb rubbed gently against the soft skin where her pulse beat.

His gaze on her twisted to something between frustrated hatred and absolute obsession.

"Nothing more to say, huh?" he murmured, the sound of his voice smoothing back into its usual soft control. The pads of his fingers burned, iron hot against her skin.

"No," Eve said quietly. "I don't have much more to say." It wasn't true. There were so many words building in her mind, excuses, explanations, that they threatened to swallow her voice entirely.

But that wasn't the way she wanted to do things. No, Eve had no desire to expose Samir to the guilt, disdain, and loathing fueling near every decision she'd made in recent days. Trepidation licked up her abdomen, wriggling about, fueling the anxiety stealing her already minimal courage.

A recurring thought emerged, again, as she watched his jaw clench, his head tilt.

Was she hoping that he'd kill her?

Or was she hoping that he'd kiss her?

Would either option absolve her of her sins? Or would they only add to her tally?

Samir's voice was smooth and cold like ice. "You've always been a terrible liar." He didn't lean closer, his hand on her neck drawing her instead, and she followed easily, like a moth to the flame, until his breath was close enough to dust across her lips. "I don't know why I expect things to change, fool that I am. You'd think I would learn. That I would pay it no mind." He let go of her neck and dragged a nail along the underside of her jaw. "Hope is such a foolish human invention. "

"Hope is how humanity is able to go on. Reaching ceaselessly forward in order to live, even in the face of their greatest fears, of evil and horror." At her words Samir paused. Then his lips quivered, just the tiniest bit, into the hint of a smile, and his touch disappeared entirely as he dropped his head back to look at the sky.

"You're not wrong. It's as powerful as it is dangerous." His voice was tiny, so quiet, Eve was sure that his words were not meant for her. "Even after so long, I continue to hope."

Something stuttered in her chest.

She could hardly hear her own voice, over the noisy thud of her heart, but did not dare to speak any louder. "Is this not the first time we've met?"

Silver eyes blazed, snapping down to hers, but the fire went out as soon as it appeared. Instead, Samir looked a little lost.

A burst of cold air, salted with the ocean, stung her cheeks. Eve craned her neck, sensing for the first time a faint sense of amusement that had been stifled by her own tumultuous heart. Samir's head snapped sideways as he felt her go stiff. A startled inhale whistled past his still parted lips.

From beyond the thicket, the scenery rippled and uncurled with a little shock of black smoke. Crossing two uncannily long arms across its chest, the intruder took a single step in their direction, more mirage than corporeal. Across the carpet of leaves, its feet made no sound, but the movement sent the curls of gray shooting back up through the air and up to congregate where the creature's head would be – if it had one. Eve pushed firmly away from Samir and reached for her holster.

No reaction. Instead, the delight leaking through the air doubled, until she could practically taste it flooding towards her. Heart fluttering faster, she raised the gun and aimed steadily at the stomach.

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Samir's fingers grazed along her spine. "Wait. I don't think it's going to attack."

"Oh, I know," Eve snarled, right as a voice, low and rumbling like a river, echoed in their minds. "As much as I hate to admit it, this is hardly our first meeting."

"You and your pets, Evelyn. Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" Her answer - a violet bullet - tore right through the body, which simply sloshed back together, looking a little more disgruntled than before as it turned a pale shade of blue, smoke and all. "Perhaps my joke was in poor taste."

"Han, I would be a fool if I welcomed you with open arms. Why are you here?"

"I guess you've learned something at least, since back then." Han arranged its limbs back into some semblance of a human form, still headless. "That's awfully harsh of you though, after all the effort it took to track you down."

"I hardly think that's going to make her feel better," Samir drawled, rocking back on his heels. The creature only flashed a questioning, mustard color that quickly darkened, star-speckled darkness flooding the creature's form.

"And what might you possibly be?" Han hovered closer, looking intrigued, and stopped only by the hand Eve shoved out in front of them both.

"Back off you creepy bastard."

"You weren't always this rude," Han said. Eve urged him back even further with her eyes, the barrel of her gun still pointed directly at the creature's chest.

"Can't have you nicking his soul now, can I?"

Those long arms unfolded, so that Han could draw a steady line through the air, from the top of Samir's head down to his feet. "Not that you care, probably, but I couldn't take this kid's soul if I wanted to. It's all wonky. And well protected. Haven't seen such strong magic in a century or so." The smoke in place of its head flickered, and Eve fought not to feel a bit lightheaded herself. Han turned to her. She fancied that she could practically see his smile. "I can't take yours for that matter, either. So relax."

"Where's your head, Han?" She asked instead, refusing to let down her guard.

"Haven't seen it since Hedeon lopped it off. God knows what he's using it for now."

"You haven't bothered looking for it? Isn't it rather important to you?"

"Well," the creature shifted its weight uneasily. "I haven't been...around. Not until recently." Eve faltered. The gun wavered mid-air, then fell to her side.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you've noticed by now. It's thinned. The barrier." Han pointed up at that tear in the sky, pitch black, unmoving against the stark blue of the atmosphere. They were a similar color. The upper half of its body tilted sideways, snarky. "You don't know what's causing it, do you?"

"For a mere minor deity, you're awfully perceptive."

"I learned from master. She spent a lot of time with me. In case she disappeared."

"So she did," Eve murmured, soft and a tad sad. Then she pulled her shoulders back, lifting the gun once again, a new light of determination coming into her eyes. "All the more reason not to trust you. I haven't seen you since Hedeon-" her voice wobbled unsteadily. Eve looked down, blinking back tears. "Since Hedeon killed her."

"What if I can explain it?"

"I don't want to hear any half-hearted excuses."

"I know what's causing it." A silence fell over the clearing. Eve laughed dryly.

"Enough."

"It's Hedeon. Him again."

"Enough!" Eve snapped, chest heaving with the viciousness of her words. "Am I really to hear this all again, and from you of all people? Did we not lose enough the last time with our hasty assumptions?"

Samir's touch reeled her back in, loosening the cold ball of pressure that had settled in her stomach somewhat. He had a strange expression on his face.

"Amazing isn't it? That he's managed to thin the barrier to such an extent?"

"Not even Hedeon would have the strength for such a feat," Eve shook her head.

"But last time was much the same, was it not? Until you helped him."

"I..." Eve trailed off, growing uncertain. The fight flooded out of her. She deflated. She didn't want to confront this part of her history, the niggling doubt that perhaps it had all in part been her fault. That Dorian's betrayal had been her fault. That the deaths had been her fault.

Most days, trying to make peace with it all felt like throwing a cup of water across the desert. The pain of it scorched her alive, scraping across her skin and her heart until she could hardly function. For decades the days had leaked by her, monotonous, robotic, a mere mimicry of what it meant to live.

Eve felt a little weak. "I know. I know about what happened, Han. But he no longer has my help."

"And if he no longer needs it?" A glimmer of magic had begun to settle amidst the creature's fingers, and above them, the reality tear seemed to pulsate. "Evelyn, do you know what you are? Have you guessed correctly what role you are meant to play? I could tell you."

Samir tugged once more, and she fell against him, turdy and reliable. His arms circled her waist, chin settling atop her head. "Why not hear him out, fireheart?" He didn't sound afraid. Only resigned. Calm. Eve looked on quietly.

She could take the coward's way out. Banish the creature and think of him no more, ignore the tinge of honesty pulsing through her senses.

Samir's heartbeat sounded steady against her back.

A pity she was so weak to his requests. It seemed that whenever he asked something of her, she couldn't say no.

Gritting her teeth against the sting in her chest, Eve lifted her gun anew, and nodded curtly. "Fine. But any bullshit and you're gone."

Han seemed to be studying her closely, the shape of his body flickering unsteadily, appearing and disappearing every few seconds. "Have you ever seen a god bleed?"

"A true god will not bleed."

"You've certainly gotten close-minded over the years," Han huffed, and lifted a hand, tearing off crimson gloves to display a pitch-black hand, fingers splayed. "Fine. I'll just show you." Faster than Eve could have possibly stopped him, a shard of that smoke, shimmering as it slid into a deep burgundy, sliced across his open palm.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, blood, welling in between those fingers, dripping down to warm the earth with no attempts by anyone to stop it.

At their feet, a small stain began to form, glowing a familiar, eerie jade green.