Belphegor was dead, and the hollow man felt nothing. There had been a moment, a whisper of satisfaction when he had pulled the trigger, but now it was gone. He was left standing over the crumbling remnants of his enemy, feeling only the desire for more.
‘We… we did it.’
Kalistra gasped beside him, coughing out a small chuckle.
‘What you did at the end Mickie… that word you spoke.’
The gorgon looked to him, clearly expecting a response. The mortal said nothing, his mind on the need for greater violence. Perhaps he did not feel fulfilled because Belphegor was not the only demon he needed to break. There were still many others left within the tower.
‘Mickie? Are you alright?’
Kalistra’s relief shifted to concern as he failed to respond. The hollow man glanced her way, coming to a decision. If the desire wanted him to break, then break he would.
‘There are still enforcers remaining, I’m going to go handle them.’
Something about the look the gorgon was sending him irked the mortal. Before she could get out much more than a strangled protest, he was stepping over the shattered remains of Belphegor and heading for an exit. Kalistra was in no state to follow as he disappeared into the reformed tower. Having chosen the newest shape of the structure, the hollow man understood intuitively where he would find the most enforcers. The demons had all been grouped up near the tower’s peak, working together to kill what remained of the Kindle Kin. Even with the reshuffling, that general area was still loosely clustered some distance above.
When the hollow man finally came across the first group of fiends, he almost laughed in delight. They were disoriented and confused, muttering amongst themselves about where they were and what was happening. The mortal’s blade whispered both through the air and in his mind as the demons were cut down.
Further into the tower he climbed, and deeper into the hollow he sank. The loathing was there, waiting for him, encouraging to push ever higher. Together with the blade, it guided him through groups of enforcers like a scalpel through skin. The whispers of the weapon were not omnipotent however, and the mortal did progress unscathed. Hits from his opponents slowly accumulated, yet whether glancing gunshots or an opportune strike, he shrugged them all off.
Only when the hollow man noticed himself slowing did he pay the wounds any heed. He reached through his soul and noted how sluggish the power was in his healing channels. Fractured and sparking, the damaged pathways appeared to no longer function as they once had. Attempting to manually force the healing resulted in pain that nearly breached his hollow calm. The experience made it apparent that whatever he had done while fighting Belphegor, it had impacted his capacity to heal. The hollow man was not bothered overly much, he would not break before the enforcers did.
Eventually the sounds of combat echoed through the corridor, coming from what the mortal knew to be the tower’s new terminus. The point at which the tall and lean structure now met the ceiling of the seventh circle. He came upon the entrance to a large hall, crowded with demons in dark body armour. Beyond them echoed the faint song of the Kindle Kin, the tune matching the much deeper melody echoing up from below.
The singers had sensed the arrival of their brethren, and were holding out as best they could until rescue came. As the hollow man pulled his blade from a lone fiend guarding the battle, he concluded the rest of the Kin would not be required. This gaggle of enforcers would be his alone to handle.
With their lookout having been silenced, none of the demons saw him coming. The mortal carved into them, moving to the whispers of his blade and smiling as screams filled the air. There were a lot of enforcers however, and they began to adapt faster than he could carve through them. Yet before any real attack could reach him, the Kindle Kin struck. Heavy metal hybrid hit the distracted fiends head on, crashing into the fiends like a tsunami.
With their assistance it was only a matter of time before all the demons were dead or running. The hollow man felt a brief flare of pleasure when they broke, but it was soon swallowed by his desire. As he straightened from the last remaining fiend, there came a low rumbling from nearby. One of the hybrids lumbered toward the mortal, making an almost familiar sound of greeting.
The giant reached a steel arm out as it neared, then seemed to hesitate. The hollow man had not been paying much attention to the approaching Kin, but this change in behaviour drew his gaze. Wide, bulbous eyes were staring out from a face that was mostly metal, examining him warily. The hybrid groaned low and took a sudden step back, then another. It distanced itself from the human, retreating back to its fellows.
It was an odd reaction, but one which the hollow man gave little thought. He gave the open hall a cursory examination as his mind drifted to the demons remaining in the tower. The sooner he moved on, the more he would be able to break. A glimpse of a black uniform within the space had him stopping short.
The hall itself was not substantially more interesting than any other location in the building. A wider passage of dark steel, it housed the familiar table containing a miniature model of the expanded structure. Beyond that was a set of stairs leading into a stone passage, the peak of the tower having dug straight into the ceiling of the seventh circle.
It was near the blocky table that the hollow man had caught sight of the enforcer. He zeroed in on a small group of demons, huddled behind the only cover in the open space. Surprisingly, the Kindle Kin within the hall seemed happy to let them be. That was fine, he was more than willing to deal with them.
The hollow man started forward, flicking the blood from his blade. It did not take long for the demons to notice his approach. They stirred, but did not make any move to raise weapons in his direction. Instead, a figure shifted, moving into view from behind the table. The mortal recognised her immediately as Belphegor’s second. The woman who had always stood in silence as the lord taunted him in the arena. The loathing within the hollow man churned, urging him onwards.
‘Mik?’
The voice was old, and so very familiar. It was enough to halt his advance, at least for a moment.
‘It’s good to see that you’re alive. I take it Belphegor is dead then?’
The hollow man frowned, trying to place who this person was. He shuffled through his recently excavated memories, looking for any indication that he knew them.
‘How do you know who I am?’
The woman winced at the question, though her eyes remained focussed on his.
‘I know who you are because I know you, Mik. Just like you know me.’
The enforcers behind the mortal appeared to be growing nervous, glancing between their leader and the human with the dripping blade. Try as he might, the hollow man could not figure out who this was.
‘The only times I’ve ever seen you is when you were standing beside Belphegor.’
He took another step forward, and the demons behind the woman reacted in kind. They moved to surround their master, but she waved them down angrily.
‘By all the accursed circles Mik, you do know me. Even if you don’t recognize me. I spent so long searching for you… I…’
Her voice broke, and she took a moment to breath.
‘I though the Sovereign got to you, just like she did to everyone else. I thought you were gone, and that I would never be able to tell you.’
There was something about the way she spoke, it ate at the hollow shell, hairline fractures letting emotion slip through. The blade in Mickie’s hand lowered ever so slightly.
‘Tell me what?’
‘That I’m sorry, Mik.’
Pieces began sliding into place, taking a shape that should have been impossible. Memories stirred, events that occurred after he had been broken, the sequence which led to his death.
‘Who are you?’
‘It me, Mickie. It’s Lucia.’
And just like that, he saw her. Shining through the weathered features of the old woman, Mickie saw his sister. He did not know how, but it was her. The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, emotions crashing in to drown him. Mickie was dragged back to the days after he had fled the family, to the time when he had stumbled across that fateful slice of international news. Reports of gang violence, grainy images, pictures of Lucia being frogmarched by an unfamiliar group. It had sent Mickie running home, sent him right into the open arms of a trap.
‘You should have stayed away Mickie. Kept that tail between your legs. You never could just fucking do what I need you to.’
Hard tiles beneath his knees. Cold steel to the back of his head. The one who held the gun sobbing, even as she did what she needed to. Mickie fled from the feelings, running to the only thing that would help him. The shell slammed into place, and the hollow man’s breathing slowed as cold calm settled within him.
He looked at Lucia, his youthful sister turned old woman, standing with tears catching in the wrinkles beneath her eyes. She had cried in much the same way when she put a bullet in the back of his head. The hollow man looked into the eyes of his killer and smiled.
‘I see.’
Without warning he exploded forward, crossing half the distance to the woman before any of the demons so much as twitched. They were slow, too slow to react, too slow to stop the blade as he raised it for Lucia’s throat. His sister did nothing to halt him, only stood waiting for the blow to land.
‘Mickie! No!’
There was a twist in the air, and something slammed into the hollow man. A force that was more spiritual than physical, it caused him to stagger all the same. The blade missed Lucia by a hair’s breadth, passing wide of her neck as he stumbled to a stop. Fiends cried out in alarm as they raised their weapons.
‘Don’t shoot him!’
Lucia shouted, turning on her retinue. She moved to block their sightlines, presenting a physical barrier between the demons and the mortal. In doing so, she turned her back to the branded man. A foolish move if ever there was one. Before he could move to strike something large wrapped about his sword arm. The mortal snarled and twisted, coming face to face with a metal hybrid.
‘Release me or die.’
He hissed. The giant grumbled in response, but did not relinquish its grip on his arm.
‘I warned you.’
‘Mickie, please.’
The voice came from all directions at once as a figure stepped around the stoic hybrid. A Kindle Kin with milky white eyes.
‘Tell the old boy to let me go, or I’m going to drop him.’
The Conductor sighed audibly; a sound that felt almost sad.
‘Whatever you are doing to yourself, you need to stop.’
‘What I’m doing is killing Lucia.’
He spat the words, hand tightening about his blade.
‘You would kill your own sister? One of your kin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
The hollow man turned, back towards Lucia, who was now encased by a wall of living demons. She must have been trying whispering into the Conductor’s ear. Probably already knew Belphegor was dead and was looking to jump ship. She had already told the singer a few things, but not all.
‘Because she betrayed me. She killed me.’
That caught the singer by surprise, and it took a moment to answer.
‘I see.’
The Conductor stepped up to the hollow man and laid a hand on his arm.
‘It sounds as if the two of you have a complicated history, even more so than I first thought. I will not stand in your way if you truly seek revenge.’
‘Great, then have the big guy let me go.’
He spat and eyed the large hybrid.
‘I do not command the Kin. This one has stopped you because it is concerned for you.’
‘Well, I appreciate it, but I’m good.’
‘No.’ The old singer said simply. ‘You are not.’
Then it began to hum. The vibrations travelled through the Conductor and into the hollow man. They reached deep into him, touching the shell he had about himself. At first, the mortal felt nothing, safe and unfeeling behind the barriers he had erected. Then the walls themselves began to shake. Music leaked through to him, carrying with it emotions he had tried to push away.
‘Stop that.’
He gasped, but the Conductor did not. If anything, the frequency of its humming rose and more of the outside world leaked into the hollow man. Did the singer not realise he had shut it all out for a reason?
‘It is time to come back Mickie.’
The blind kin said, voice soft and insistent.
‘Whatever you are doing, you need to stop.’
Mickie felt it then, the message behind the music. It carried concern, not just from the Conductor, but from all the Kindle Kin in the room. The hollow began to crack, and everything he had held at bay began to bleed through.
‘There you are.’
The singer said, and smiled at him. Mickie felt anything but comfort at the gesture. The pain of the blood lake, the forced recollection of his past, and the encounter with his sister. It all pressed on him now, pushing him down, compressing him. Instinctively he reached for the hollow, and the Conductors grip tightened on his arm.
‘No Mickie. Don’t’
The branded man let out a breath that was half a sob, unable even to form the words required to ask why. He could feel Lucia’s eyes on his back, watching him. Just as she had when she held the gun to his head. Mickie needed to get out of this hall. Needed to get away from all the prying eyes. As if sensing his thoughts, both the Conductor and the metal hybrid released his arm.
The mortal turned and walked from the room, nearly tripping over the corpse of a demon on his way out. Mickie staggered into the halls of the tow0er, unsure where he was going, hardly even able to think. His head was a mess of clashing emotion. The memory of pain from the blood lake, the anger at seeing his sister, and the desire for violence. It overwhelmed him, battering at his psyche, leading him back to that hollow within. Only, when he called for the hollow, an echo of the Conductor’s song held him at bay.
So, instead of emptying himself of all his waring emotions, Mickie stumbled through the storm of their collision. His feet led him through the tower, heading for a destination by instinct alone. As he wandered, the song of the Kindle Kin was beginning to blossom into a greater melody. It was their song which helped him start to regain himself. A shifting thing of both strength and joy, it buoyed Mickie in the flood, and assisted him in staying afloat until the waters receded.
By the time his emotions had settled, the branded man felt like a wet rag, stumbling along on fading fumes. Even still he could feel his desire beckoning to him. It whispered at the back of his mind, mastered and caged, but not truly conquered.
With his thoughts settled, Mickie realised where he had been subconsciously heading. His wanderings had brough him close and the branded man soon arrived at an open balcony, only a couple dozen meters from the ceiling of the seventh circle. The space was already partially occupied, just as a strange gut feeling had told him that it would be.
Surrounded by a disparate collection of demon parts was Ziz, nestled beside an unfamiliar flying machine. The primordial eyed him as he stepped out into the open, offering a low, rumbling chirp. Mickie supposed it made sense that the big bird would hang about somewhere higher in the air.
‘See, I told ya he was nearby, didn’t I?’
A squeaky voice came from the large mound of bronze feathers. Mickie recognised the sound and smiled as a tiny red figure popped up atop the primordial’s head.
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‘Nice of you to come to us kid, I wasn’t looking forward to digging you out of that damned death trap.’
‘Hey Mag, should have figured I’d find you lounging about somewhere.’
Miz-Mag scoffed.
‘I did my bit, even snagged an upgraded ride.’
The fiend waved towards the parked flyer, still partially obscured by Ziz. Mickie raised his eyebrows.
‘There’s got to be a story to that.’
The branded man made his way over to the duo. With a few sweeps of his foot, Mickie cleared a space of demon parts and sat, legs dangling off the balcony’s edge.
‘You bet there is. Turns out old Miz-Mag has a few decent tricks up its sleeve.’
The air around them suddenly shuddered and rippled as Ziz shifted on the balcony.
‘Yummy one made me do all the work.’
The primordial complained, and Miz-Mag began to squawk out a protest. The little fiend hardly got a few words out before Ziz continued speaking right over the top of it.
‘Mickie, you found bonded one.’
Wincing at the statement, a spike of shame ran through the mortal. He realised he had abandoned Kalistra after their fight with Belphegor. Powerful as the gorgon was, she had been on her last legs. If a decent group of enforcers found her in that state…
‘Yeah, I found her. We just, got split up.’
He fumbled out an answer and made to stand.
‘I’ll go make sure she’s alright.’
Having finally had a moment to separate himself and sort through his emotions, Mickie was disoriented by how warped his own mind had been.
‘No. She comes.’
Ziz rumbled, and bumped Mickie with a wing. The branded man tumbled sideways, gripping the edge of the balcony like a madman to stop from rolling off.
‘Watch it, bird brain.’
Miz-Mag scolded, leaping from Ziz’s head to the hard steel of the tower.
‘If the kid eats it, I will too.’
Mickie straightened himself back up and glanced over at the primordial. He had forgotten that Ziz was keyed into Kalistra’s current condition.
‘You can tell she’s alright?’
The avian gave him and extraordinarily bird-like bob of the head.
‘Yes. She comes.’
‘Alright then.’
Mickie settled back into his seat on the balcony. Miz-Mag used the opportunity to scuttle onto his shoulder.
‘I tell you what kid, things felt a bit rocky for you on my end. What happened while I was out?’
The branded man sighed and gave the pair a general rundown of his fight with Belphegor. In turn Miz-Mag described its own adventures, from hijacking a new aircraft with Ziz to catching the Kindle Kin mid charge. Mickie was thankful for the distraction, and relieved he did not need to head back into the tower. His body was a battered mess after his rampage through the building and was not healing as it should.
‘Then big bird here cleaned us up a landing strip and I dumped the reinforcements. We thought about following them in, but Ziz is too big to fight right in the tower. Plus, the rest of the singers were closing in on the tower, so we knew they’d manage without us. I wonder why they decided to put the control panel in the lake like that…’
As his partner continued to ramble on, Mickie’s thoughts began to drift. Even now his desire still whispered to him. As if, by identifying it and letting it off the leash, he had given it a mind of its own. Sitting on the balcony, looking out over the expanse of cavernous desert, he could not help but feel he had done something irreversible.
Mickie had started the process of hollowing himself out as a defence mechanism. A way to keep sane and survive his old life. It allowed him to set aside painful emotions, to centre himself entirely for whatever obstacle lay before him. However, the hollow had only ever been a mental exercise. For all it distanced him from his pain and fear, they had always been there, waiting to be let back in.
What he had done in the blood lake was not that. When Mickie had given into his desire, it had not just pushed other emotions aside, it had removed them entirely. He stopped being just another mortal, and became almost as much a fiend as Belphegor. The Soul Lord had been right when it told him it was desire that made a demon.
On his shoulder, Miz-Mag had trailed off as it noticed his lack of attention. Mickie’s partner spent a moment examining him before sighing and joining the mortal in gazing out to the rocky horizon. Ziz let out a huff of air and its head shifted, coming to lay beside Mickie’s leg.
‘You know kid, my sense of you is a lot better than yours is of me. I definitely felt it when Belphegor stabbed you, but that wasn’t the only thing that I felt.’
The fiend gave him a consoling pat on the ear.
‘I’m just sayin’ that I know killing the old bastard wasn’t as straightforward as you made it seem.’
Miz-Mag settled back in to stare out across the desert. It was then, as Mickie searched for something to say, that Ziz abruptly perked up. The big bird’s head rose, twisting to stare down into the tower. Footsteps echoed out, a single, slow set. On the tail of the sound came Kalistra, still coated in partially drying blood and walking with a mild limp.
‘Ah, you are here then. That blind Kindle Kin told me, but I was not sure…’
The gorgon trailed off as she stepped into the sharp desert light, and came face to face with Ziz for the first time. Whatever arcane replacement for eyesight Kalistra had cooked up revealed little of her thoughts in the sudden standoff. Those empty eye sockets hid emotion just as well as Ziz’s avian stare. Mickie and Miz-Mag found themselves held suspended in the moment, unsure what was about to happen.
‘I, uh, hello…’
Kalistra eventually murmured. As if the words were a starting gun, Ziz exploded off the metal floor, crossing the distance to the gorgon in a single bound. Mickie rolled away from the balcony’s edge and to his feet, only to hesitate on what he should do next. The gorgon was engulfed in a mountain of feathers, her shout of alarm smothered by a loud squawk.
‘Uh kid, think we should do something?’
Miz-Mag was just as uncertain as he was. Mickie thought that Ziz would not hurt Kalistra intentionally, but the primordial was large, and seemingly very excited. It might just squish the gorgon by accident. Before he could make a move however, laughter reached him from within the shaking lump of bronze feathers. Kalistra suddenly appeared, raised into the air atop Ziz’s body.
‘Alright, alright, it’s good to finally meet you too. Now just give me a moment to…’
Whatever the gorgon had been planning to say was lost in a shout of alarm as her partner cawed in victory and leapt off the balcony. Mickie’s eyes widened and he darted to the edge. He easily caught sight of Ziz, plummeting down the side of the tower with a screaming Kalistra. Just when Mickie was sure they were going to splash into the blood lake, the primordial’s wings ballooned out.
He could see Kalistra clutching on for dear life as her ride made a sharp turn to rocket out over the bone woods. Mickie released a breath he had not known he was holding and relaxed. Like a distant background to the Kindle Kin’s song, Kalistra’s laughter reached him from far below. For all that Ziz was young, it was still the primordial of the skies, and put on a show to reflect that. The avian darted and spun through the air, always making sure that its partner was safely nestled upon its back.
As Mickie watched on, something else caught his eye. Far out into the bone wood, there appeared to be a susurration moving through the trees. It was as if a slow-moving breeze was rolling in, swaying the branched in a long line. Only, as far as Mickie knew, the brittle bone facsimiles were not known to shift in the wind as their living world counterparts might.
‘Hey Mag, you see that?’
Mickie indicated the strange section of white forest.
‘What’s that?’
His partner tore its attention from their flying companions and swiftly noticed what Mickie had.
‘Hmm, I’d say that’s the rest of our wrinkly friends. Looks like a bigger version of what I saw with the advanced force.’
The branded man squinted, trying to get a better view of the shifting woods.
‘Are they cutting their way through or something?’
‘Or something, kid.’
Miz-Mag flopped back against his neck with a huff, and proceeded to explain the moving trees. Mickie nodded along, drawing swift connections to what he had experienced within the Cracked Plateau and this new behaviour. He supposed the Conductor had been right to suggest there would be unforeseen consequences.
In this case, those consequences had benefitted Mickie and his allies, enabling swift reinforcements that even now swept the tower. However, the branded man could easily see the effects being far from helpful. He shuddered to think what might have happened if he aggravated the soul storm instead of placating it.
Watching Ziz dip and swirl through the hot, desert air, Mickie’s thoughts drifted from the remnants of the bone tree to nature of Soul Bindings. This older form of power he had stumbled into seemed so unstable when compared to the more modern deals demons made. Both he and Kalistra had interlocked their souls with another being. A similar process, yet with outcomes that seemed extraordinarily different. Their powers and triggers for growth differed, shaped in part by the souls involved within the bond.
Mickie wondered what else Hell might have in store. There must be all sorts of ancient nightmares in wait up above, things old and powerful, dormant as the tower on which he now sat. As Ziz and Kalistra spun about in the air nearby, he discovered the thought did not concern him as much as it probably should. Whatever would come, would come. At least for the moment, he could pause for a break. Mickie settled back in to watch as his companions danced through the bright desert cavern.
----------------------------------------
Eventually Ziz got tired of flying and returned its partner to the balcony where Mickie sat waiting. They had all sat together for a time, commenting on idle things and taking a moment to rest after a battle hard fought. Pressing thoughts could only be held at bay for so long, however, and every time Mickie glanced at Kalistra her empty eyes reminded him of things that needed to be said.
‘I’m sorry.’
The shift in his tone did not go unnoticed by the gorgon. She sighed softly, resigning herself to the loss of their peaceful moment.
‘Don’t be, Mickie. Not for any of it.’
‘But…’
‘No.’
She said firmly and turned to face him. It was strange, how even without eyes, Mickie could feel like he was being stared down.
‘We killed Belphegor today. Us. My eyes are a price I would gladly pay in exchange.
Mickie nodded slowly, turning his attention to the desert below. He had intended for his apology to encapsulate more than the loss of her eyesight. Even now guilt weighed on him for having abandoned her to Belphegor, and for leaving her again after their fight with the fiend. Yet he could tell she did not hold anything against him for it. So, instead of indulging his own self-pity, Mickie pivoted to another topic.
‘Hardly seemed like you needed my help fighting the old boy. You got free just fine without me.’
‘Yes well, I found some unlikely assistance in that department.’
Kalistra hesitated for a moment, and Mickie felt the approaching question crawling forth like a spider along his spine.
‘That woman, is she truly your sister?’
Things he had avoided thinking about were dragged back into the forefront of Mickie’s mind. Emotions he had only just managed to settle stirred, rousing like beasts smelling blood. Worst of all was his caged desire, whispering to him, coaxing Mickie to let it out.
‘Yes. That’s Lucia alright.’
He managed after an extended pause. Kalistra’s hair fluttered, snakes twisting to peer closely at him. Clearly the gorgon was curious to know more but would not press him for answers. Mickie stayed silent for a time, reigning in his emotions.
‘I… I don’t know why she’s so old, or even dead for that matter. It’s definitely her though.’
‘You do not seem pleased to see her again.’
Kalistra said slowly, carefully keeping her tone level. Miz-Mag shifted on Mickie’s shoulder, clearly interested in what he had to say.
‘I…’
The branded man hesitated, and took a slow breath. He needed to face this.
‘You know mortal’s die before they come here, right?’
Kalistra gave a sober nod while Miz-Mag sighed loudly at the obvious question.
‘Well, I didn’t exactly have what would be considered a nice death.’
‘Oh, come on kid, stop beating about the bush.’
Mickie threw his partner an irritated look.
‘Lucia killed me. There, you happy?’
The words hung in the air for a moment.
‘Now hold on just a second.’
Miz-Mag spluttered.
‘Your own sister killed you? How? Why?’
‘Oh, so now you want the whole story?’
The demon went to say something and coughed. Mickie found the corners of his mouth tweaking upwards at his partner’s antics. It was strange, given the topic of conversation. Beside him Kalistra seemed pensive more than surprised, waiting until Miz-Mag had settled before speaking.
‘She did seem rather… reticent about you when we spoke.’
The gorgon spoke slowly, giving each word due thought.
‘However, it did seem that she cared about you, Mickie. At least, she revealed to me that she has been assisting us from the shadows.’
The branded man laughed bitterly.
‘Whatever Lucia said to you, it’s a lie. She might have helped us so we’d kill Belphegor for her, honestly, I don’t know. What I do know is that everything she does is for a purpose, and she’ll say or do anything in pursuit of her goals.’
‘Geez kid, bit of a grim take on your own kin. What in the nine happened between you two?’
Miz-Mag muttered, slightly taken aback by the vitriol in its partner’s voice. Nearby Ziz chirruped a low sound of agreement, one large eye watching him lazily. Mickie glanced at the lounging primordial, his thoughts back on his life before Hell. He had meant to face those memories here and now. Except, he was finding that when the moment came to speak of his death, Mickie could not force the words out.
‘It doesn’t matter. She’s just…’
The branded man searched for something to say.
‘We can’t trust her. No matter what she says or implies. The only person Lucia is out for in this world is herself.’
‘I see.’
Kalistra said, noticing his reluctance to elaborate and coming to his rescue.
‘There are other things to discuss. The new abilities you demonstrated against Belphegor for instance.’
‘What’s this?’
The fiend on Mickie’s shoulder snapped on the topic like a dog on a strip of steak. The branded man tossed a grateful look in the direction of his serpentine companion before responding.
‘Just something I discovered while getting my skin burnt off in the blood lake. I don’t think you’d care all that much.’
After poking fun at his little partner, Mickie proceeded to explain his discovery of the blade and use of his voice as a weapon. He had little context to give however, as both powers had come to him through some uncanny instinct.
‘It is strange.’
Kalistra spoke up when he was done with the description of the abilities and the state of mind which had led him to them.
‘Desire is certainly a function of power in Hell, but something like you describe.’
She gave a slow shake of the head.
‘I’ve never heard of the sort.’
‘Kid could have made it up.’
Miz-Mag muttered from its perch.
‘Whatever the case, that thing you mentioned, the speech thing. I didn’t even know mortals could do that.’
Kalistra hummed in agreement.
‘My tribe call them words of power. Their effects and extent are usually unique to each individual, with only strength and time supposedly playing a role in their use. That you can use the words so soon after arrival in Hell is… rather odd.’
The branded man took a moment to digest the new information, pairing it with his own recollection of the fight. He recalled the urge to speak, bubbling up from within like magma in a volcano. It was not something he felt he could replicate on command.
‘I think it sort of just happened. I could feel that barrier Belphegor had up and wanted break it. I wanted to…’
He trailed off, not finishing the sentence. Mickie was not sure why, but after stepping away from his desire he had grown wary of it. As if giving voice to those deep-seated thoughts would grant them power.
‘Anyway, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Not something I can just throw around like Belphegor.’
‘That makes sense. Mastery is something borne of time and practice. Perhaps you might eventually be able to use it at will.’
Kalistra said, and Mickie had to stop himself from replying I hope not. The state of mind that led him to that power was not something he was eager to call upon any time soon.
‘And the sword? Surely you can call that up?’
Miz-Mag had already moved to next topic of interest, and Mickie frowned at the little fiend’s question.
‘You know what, I’m actually not sure.’
He raised a hand, and called. Not for his gun, but that dark, curved blade which he had used to whittle Belphegor into manageable pieces. There was a brief resistance, before the weapon materialised against his palm. Miz-Mag whistled appreciatively as the branded man swung it through the air above the open desert.
‘Now that’s a sinister piece of steel.’
The demon paused, shifting as something occurred to it.
‘Weird…’
‘What’s that?’
Mickie asked, dismissing the weapon. He did not like the way his desire stirred when he held it in his hand.
‘I have a vague sense of your other abilities, you know, the gun and amulet and whatnot. The blade though… I can’t feel it.’
The group lapsed into a momentary silence.
‘Could it be tied up with your sense of the firearm?’
Kalistra asked, a hand idly reaching out to stroke Ziz’s feathered head.
‘Maybe. I’m not so sure though.’
The little fiend sounded sceptical.
‘Now that I think about it, I can’t sense the speech thing either. By the blood kid, you trying to keep secrets from me?’
Mickie’s partner gave his ear a shake. The branded man smirked in response.
‘Don’t blame your lack of talent on me.’
Miz-Mag threw a rude gesture in front of his face.
‘Actually, I have an explanation for that. Well, a hypothesis at least.’
Kalistra interjected before the pair devolved into bickering.
‘Oh?’
The mortal raised an eyebrow in her direction.
‘I believe it has to do with the nature of the words of power. Unlike the abilities formed in a soul binding, the words are something deeply personal. They come from Mickie alone.’
‘So, you are keeping secrets from me then.’
Kalistra smiled at the little fiend’s outburst.
‘To an extent, I suppose he is. The words do not factor into your bond, and as such are hidden from your senses.’
She paused, then gave Mickie what might have been a worried look.
‘That blade though. If it is not tied up with your other weapon, and Miz-Mag could not sense it…’
The gorgon released a breath.
‘I’m unsure what that might signify.’
‘Probably just a quirk of the binding.’
Mickie shrugged, wanting to move on from the topic. Kalistra hummed, unconvinced, but willing to let it slide. As the larger force of Kindle Kin came ever closer to the tower, Miz-Mag regaled them yet again with its tale of combat in the air. The little fiend then proceeded to wheedle Kalistra until she revealed how she had managed to achieve sight without eyes.
The gorgon was hesitant at first, unwilling or unable to speak on the time she spent under Belphegor’s thumb. Mickie could understand, some things simply could not be faced head on. When she came to speak on her new technique however, their serpentine companion grew more animated.
‘Hold up Kali, so you’re saying you can see through every snake on your head?’
Miz-Mag sounded impressed.
‘I’d just about call that an upgrade from what you had before.’
‘Only the snake to which I am linked are available to me.’
The gorgon explained.
‘And seeing through too many at once is… confusing.’
She reached a hand up to let the bronze locks twist about her fingers. Mickie wondered which of those creatures she was using as her eyes at the moment.
‘Your eyes.’
He said after a drawn period of silence.
‘Are they going to grow back?’
It was a question he had been debating bringing up, but one he decided was worth the overstep. If Kalistra was going to be permanently impacted moving forward, then they needed to know.
‘I… maybe?’
She said, folding upon herself slightly.
‘I can feel the extent of my healing, and it isn’t enough. The power cannot regrow something that was lost.’
Mickie winced, he had been hopeful but was unsurprised at the news.
‘Hold on girly, what about that blood waterfall?’
Miz-Mag was outwardly far less sympathetic, the little demon resting against Mickie’s head with arms folded.
‘I’m sorry?’
The gorgon asked, a few strands of serpentine hair shifted in their direction.
‘You know, that nasty thing in the cave. You sent the whole place bonkers by shoving big bird over there into it.’
‘I recall. What about it?’
Kalistra replied tersely, irritation rising to replace her previously dour tone.
‘Well, if it could turn an egg into that.’
The fiend waved an arm in Ziz’s direction.
‘Then surely it could give you a new set of peepers.’
Annoyance melted from the gorgon as she froze momentarily, thinking.
‘That, that actually has some merit.’
‘No need to sound so surprised.’
Miz-Mag deadpanned, and was promptly ignored.
‘Not the place of power below the tower. I already connected to that one. Another one though…’
She straightened, suddenly seeming more energetic.
‘If it can boost Ziz’s growth, then perhaps it could heal my eyes.’
The entire time she had been describing her loss of sight and reclamation of it in its new form, the gorgon had tried to be stoic. Only now that she had a glimpse of hope, did the deeper emotions reveal themselves.
‘Another place of power. In the Labyrinth, there has to be one hidden somewhere in the Sixth.’
Yearning broke her voice, and Kalistra turned her sightless eyes to Mickie. Somehow, he could make out desperation in their ragged depths.
‘We must search the next circle.’
The branded man nodded.
‘We will. I’m sure we’ll come across another one of those weird places at some stage. You need to hunt them down either way.’
He said, and Ziz grumbled in agreement, shifting about and ruffling its feathers.
‘The stone passage, the one in that large hall, I assume you saw it?’
Kalistra seemed to have received a new burst of energy. She shifted about on the balcony, clearly preparing to get up and move.
‘I saw it.’
‘That must be the exit. The one that Ziz’s last form told us about.’
‘I’d say so.’
Mickie agreed, then pre-empted the gorgon before she could take off.
‘But we can’t go yet.’
Kalistra frowned in his direction and the branded man sighed.
‘I… I need a rest. So do you, for that matter. We’ve been going nonstop for days.’
He rubbed a hand across his face, receiving a muttered complained from Miz-Mag as the demon was jostled with the motion.
‘It’s not just that either. I think I broke my healing in the fight with Belphegor. It’s going to take me a moment to get back in decent shape.’
‘What!’
Miz-Mag bolted upright.
‘I thought I felt something was off. But you actually broke a power? By all the nine stinkin’ circles kid, I swear…’
As the little demon went off on a tirade, Kalistra sighed, deflating and settling back in beside Mickie. He could tell she was eager to get moving, but the sudden urgency from moments before was gone. The gorgon was no fool, she knew that they needed to recover and reset. A shoulder pressed gently against the branded man’s own, a soft touch without any real pressure. Ziz grumbled and nudged its head against Kalistra’s leg, the gorgon beginning to scratch idly between her companion’s feathers.
Beneath them the trees of the bone wood parted to reveal the encroaching horde of Kindle Kin. Mickie thought he could make out old man Karsus, though that could just as easily be another human at this distance. On his shoulder, Miz-Mag continued to ramble. Oddly enough however, the mortal found its squeaky voice more comforting than irritating.
They were together and alive at the edge of the sixth circle. There was still much to come, but for the moment, Mickie could rest and prepare. He stared out to the point where the sandy dunes met the craggy ceiling, with a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, approached optimism.