[https://i.imgur.com/zVNayfo.png]

Was existence always this dichotomous? Styx had no idea because this was new for her. On one hand, she felt jubilation and excitement over the developing relationship with Caleb. On the other, fear and trepidation.

The demons were escalating, bringing more of their filth into Earth and the known realms. Styx blew out a breath. Discouraged, she leaned her chin on the pile of papers. This close, the musty scent of ink and parchment was overpowering. But comforting in its predictable nature.

Reports about demon sightings in the other realms were flowing in. Olympus, Asgard, Aaru, Tír na nÓg, Swarga, Tushita, Takamaghara, Kunlun, Haneul, Aniywiyai, Tlalocan, and Hanan Pach were all suffering from an increase of demon activity.

It was a troubling development to an already stressful case.

The crisp smell of the living wood wasn’t enough to quell the unease. Angry at herself for being unable to solve this riddle, she leaned back in her chair.

Bands of sunlight wove through the room, sparkling green as it slid past the leaves. Hoping for an answer, she watched the motes of dust as they glittered and danced. Perhaps when this debacle was done, she could be oblivious to the world like they were.

A few specters drifted behind her, their ethereal existence summoned by her mood. They weren’t substance or spirit. Instead, specters remained trapped in between. Almost alive, but not quite dead. They’d feed off her excess energies, both positive and negative. Styx didn’t mind. They helped take the edge off. In fact, she encouraged their presence, because they helped to escort souls when she was busy.

[https://i.imgur.com/ra7vPP2.png]

A fist clenched around a parchment, the paper crinkling and cracking in her iron grasp. Still, she squeezed, until her arm trembled, and muscles burned. This was all she could do, crumple up stupid papers!

Angry, she chucked the destroyed page across the room where it bounced harmlessly off the wall. That’s all she was good for. Useless acts of aggression that did no damage, vanishing without a trace.

Somehow, the fact that all these sightings and reports said nothing about kidnappings was more troublesome. The evil group must have shifted their focus to acquiring magical objects and kidnapping deities.

That could spell disaster, because if they got their hands on something powerful. It would tip the already fragile scales.

That was unsettling enough to make trepidation swirl inside of her. But that wasn’t the worst part. Most of the sightings on Earth were concentrated in England, particularly the southwest.

Close to Caleb.

A chill raced down her spine as the stark possibility crystallized. She could see it now, him sitting in that faded old armchair, reading intently. The ambush would come from the shadows with blue blades and ruthless claws.

Panic seized her pounding heart as more gruesome visions assaulted her mind, each more horrific than the last. What agony would that cause? Each slash and bruise rocketing through their soul bond, every bolt of fear slicing deeply. And she would be powerless to save him.

Would she reach him in time to watch the last shattered breath leave his body? To see the final blaze of adoration in his eyes blink out as he pleaded for her with bloodied lips?

The sickening images refused to fade, oozing like a poison, filling her every thought with darkness.

When the door opened, Styx jumped.

“Greetings, fearless leader! Sarutahiko just dropped these off,” Sorcha said, setting another pile of papers in front of her.

Styx cleared her throat, desperately hoping those terrible images would vanish. “More sightings?”

“That’s what he led me to believe. My eyes blurred after a minute, so I didn’t read them all. But they gathered some specifics on the organization.”

Styx perked up at that. They were having a hell of a time finding anything out. Now a little more invigorated, she picked up one to read.

“Nyxen at the top, we knew that.” Her eyes darted back and forth over the script. “Interesting, so they’ve discovered at least twenty individual demons. Asher, that name sounds familiar.”

Sorcha inhaled. “Wait! Isn’t he always teasing Rowan? I’m glad it’s not me. I’d probably faint if a demon talked to me.”

“You’re right,” Styx said as Sorcha sat next to her. “Bastard.”

“They also believe their magic is rooted in something different.”

“Different? What do you mean?” Styx looked up from the piles of reports.

Sorcha bit her lip and pulled a paper from the stack before handing it over. Styx skimmed it, looking up without comprehending what the words meant.

“Sarutahiko said the indications are it’s older than the Creators. I’m not sure about the details. He explained it, but I didn’t understand most of what he told me. I just understood it’s old. Ancient even.”

“That could be why it’s so powerful. Creator magic, while formidable, is young compared to some others in the cosmos.”

Sorcha twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “He said some of their runes and spells turned blue after being exposed to the demon’s presence.”

“Blue?”

“Yes.”

“Makes sense. Their eyes and blades are that color.”

“It’s too much for me. You know I’m not the brightest gem in the treasure hoard.”

Styx leaned back, the wood creaking and leaves rustling. “You might not be strategy smart, Famine, but you’ve got other areas that you excel.”

Sorcha started chewing on a fingernail. “Lucky you, I’m unsure we could have more smart horsewomen. You and Rowan are all we need.”

THUMP! Thwack!

“Roooooarrrrr!”

Sorcha stood and stepped to the window. “Looks like Valerie is wrestling Typhon again.”

Needing a break, Styx stood and stretched. A series of pops echoed as she twisted her back and rolled her shoulders. It had been a long morning of staying hunched in search of answers.

Standing next to Sorcha, Styx blinked as the bright sunlight momentarily blinded her. As her vision adjusted, she spotted Valerie and Typhon rolling about on the grass below.

The dragon snapped at a limb before Valerie spun away. Valerie shoved an elbow into the dragon’s side, eliciting an angry roar. Undeterred, she swung onto its back, evoking smoldering snarls as she locked her arms around his neck. Typhon thrashed, scarlet wings beating furiously as he tried to dislodge her.

With a mighty heave, the dragon flipped Valerie over his head. Unfazed, she hit the ground and rolled. In a blur, she had Typhon’s leg clenched between her thighs. The dragon snapped with razor-sharp obsidian teeth, just missing her arm.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Creators, to be so bold,” Sorcha breathed. “Wrestling a dragon?! She’s going to lose a limb and bleed everywhere. Never mind, she’s already bleeding.”

[https://i.imgur.com/DGG0mWC.png]

Styx laughed, but the sound choked off as Valerie smashed her forehead against Typhon’s snout. “That’s what happens when you’re the embodiment of war. You want to fight everything.”

“I’ll never again accept her challenge.” Sorcha rubbed her arms. “I swear she almost ripped my arms off.”

Styx chuckled. “You hold the record for the shortest fight.”

“I’d prefer being locked in a room with a dozen freshly baked breads over doing that again.”

Behind them, the door clicked open, and the air movement swirled the ghostly tendrils of the specters. They shifted and blurred before forming again.

“Rowan,” Styx said, greeting the horsewoman. “Any news?”

“Yes.” Rowan nodded. “At least I think it’s news.”

Below them Typhon or Valerie roared, sometimes they sounded too similar to differentiate.

Sorcha sighed and looked at Rowan. “Please tell me that the suppression spell is almost ready? I feel so empty inside.”

Rowan shook her head. “It has thirty minutes.”

“At least that spell is still working. The others only lasted a little before they lost potency.” Styx shuffled more papers.

She whimpered and rubbed her belly. “Sometimes being famine is the worst. I’m so hungry.”

“I know, Sorcha,” Rowan said. “And I’m sorry after all these decades. We haven’t found a better way to feed you.”

“Take solace from the fact you can’t actually starve to death,” Styx said, rubbing Sorcha’s shoulders. “But you can rot someone into goo, so that’s a bonus.”

Sorcha blew out a breath. “That’s insignificant compared to fries, burgers, and a milkshake. If only I could get near food without those spells and potions.”

“Being the physical manifestation of decay and hunger has its downfall,” Rowan said.

Outside, the fight obviously had gotten worse. The windows rattled as a heavy impact thudded against the wall, followed by a howl of pain.

Sorcha sighed. “I think I’ll go get the healing sprites.”

“Tell them to take it elsewhere too,” Styx said. “I need to concentrate, and that grunting is distracting.”

“Why did the weightlifter bring a ladder to the gym?” Sorcha snorted.

Styx grinned, and Rowan groaned. But Sorcha was obvious.

“Because he didn’t want to be caught grunting on the ground!” Sorcha burst out laughing.

Rowan stared deadpan, not even the edges of her lips curling. Styx gave a courtesy chuckle, and Sorcha giggled as she left.

“She tells the worst jokes,” Rowan muttered.

“It makes her happy, besides they’re harmless.”

“Not unless my ears bleed.” Rowan set the papers down.

“Come, look at these. We finally have some idea about their magic.” Styx sat back down and shoved over the newest pile.

Rowan took the top page and scanned it before laying out some pages. Styx cleared off a bigger portion of the table, sliding the stacks aside. Without words, Rowan took a pouch from inside her robe and threw the wooden runes. The small disks clinked, rolled across the table, and came to a rest.

Rowan leaned forward, and Styx didn’t pester her with questions. It did nothing to rush the process. Even if she tried, Rowan would dig her heels in and take twice as long. Styx learned that centuries ago. Now she sat back and waited.

Despite fighting it, Caleb came to mind. The slight upturn of his lips when he was trying not to smile. How his eyes sparkled when he spoke of books. The electric tingle that wove across her body when he touched her. How he would ramble when he got nervous.

Then the sight of his lifeless body cascaded over her thoughts.

She shook her head, convinced that she needed to speak to Rowan soon about severing the soul bond. Needing to forget that terrible sight, she focused on that burning spot behind her left ribs.

He was certainly making popcorn because he never got that specific quivering anticipation for anything else.

If she focused on that point harder, she could sense him stronger. Was he thinking about her?

If she allowed the bond to deepen, then she’d know he was thinking of her.

Before more thoughts bombarded her, Rowan interrupted.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Rowan said.

“Uh oh, that’s not good. The last time you said that, Vesuvius blew its top.”

Rowan fidgeted with a bone pendant hanging from her belt. “Yeah, something’s whispering. We’re dealing with that sort of major upset.”

Styx groaned and pressed her palms into her eyes. A cool tingle of magic caressed her back as the specters devoured the heightened emotion.

“It’s not good,” Rowan continued. “It’s all pain, suffering, hurting, tearing, trapped. Bad things.”

“How can those runes be so negative? Get some happy runes. I want some good news.”

“Good news? Uh, I guess this one is kind of good.” Rowan pointed to one. “That means settled.”

“Settled? How is that good news?”

“The demons have chosen a location for their hidden lair.”

That got her attention. Styx jerked upright. “Where? We can raid it and kill them all!”

“You’re being dumb, it’s not Google Maps. I can’t tell you where. It just means they’ve chosen a location and have settled.”

Styx smacked the table. “I don’t think that counts as good. Not if we can’t find the damn place to begin with.”

Rowan shrugged, sliding the runes into the pouch. “I’ll start work on a tracer ritual. Won’t work well until we get something from the demons, blood, fibers, things like that.”

Styx snorted. “Sure, the next time they demolish a sanctuary or try to kidnap a mortal, I’ll just ask for some blood.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Perhaps I’ll ask Asher.” Styx grinned. “He seems willing to help you out.”

Rowan turned her deadpan expression on Styx. “If you speak his name in my presence again, I’ll make you itch for a month.”

Styx waved her off. “Boss, remember? Besides, it’s not my fault that he’s attached to you.”

“Attached like a fucking burr, all he does is antagonize and belittle.”

“He’s a male, therefore he’s incapable of understanding emotion. He probably…”

[https://i.imgur.com/mvwCrJB.png]

Magic exploded from Rowan. Dark purple burst outwards, slamming into Styx. She rocketed backward and slammed into the wall. Bolts of power held her against the living wood, pressing her tighter to the unyielding surface.

The sudden eruption of power sent the lingering specters racing away. The very air thickened as Rowan called upon her magic. Ribbons of dark purple erupted outwards, spinning faster and faster. As the magic engulfed Rowan, she vanished.

The mystical energy exploded into motes of violet and midnight blue, dissipating like fireflies to reveal Pestilence. Her terrible beauty carried an otherworldly grace—alabaster skin stretched over delicate bones, mist-like hair, and eyes that pierced Styx’s core with hollow perfection.

When Pestilence moved, her steps held a preternatural grace, as if she might drift away on the breeze. Her pallid skin was flawless yet translucent as marble, with faint blue veins tracing her arms. Strange and scentless, the chill of her presence made Styx’s neck hairs stand on end. Strange markings flowed below her eyes and down her cheeks.

This was not the beauty of life, but of death in an enchanting disguise. Styx retreated a step, eager to escape that penetrating gaze.

“I didn’t know you flirted with a graceful ruin, Death,” Pestilence’s voice was airy, more wind than substance. “Because if you continue on this path, that is exactly what you’ll receive.”

All powerful god or not, Styx swallowed. “Yeah, I’m done.”

“Wise choice.”

Instead of transforming back to Rowan, Pestilence turned toward the table. Power rolled off her in waves, a terrible beauty that didn’t belong to mortals. This was the strength of a god.

Slightly intimidated, Styx considered transforming into Death, but dismissed it. There was no need, and the others might be concerned if they sensed two transformations. So Styx hid her discomfort and stepped up beside Pestilence to stare down at the paper laden table.

“Can you discern anything?” Styx asked.

“You mean other than your insolence?” Rowan replied, casting a sideways glance.

“Yep.”

More of that captivating dark magic spread from Pestilence, encircling the papers. Only a second elapsed before they burst from the table. They flew about in a frantic frenzy before sticking against the wall.

Styx stepped closer, reading them. “Chronological order, very nice.”

When some pages glowed blue, Styx studied them more. “Is this accurate?”

Behind her, Pestilence gave a sort of snort. “My magic is always accurate.”

“Then we need to keep an eye out. There’s a lot of movement around Olympus. Looks like chatter about a relic.”

“Which can be bad. Olympus has a lot of powerful magical relics. If the demons get their hands on any of them, we’re doomed.”

“Great, but what’s in the American Midwest? It seems like some demon activity centers there, too.”

“Corn.”

“Doesn’t explain why the demons are there, same thing with Scotland.”

Rowan bristled. “They better stay away from my homeland. Because if they dare set foot on that sacred ground…”

“Looks like the Black Forest in Germany as well. I wonder what they’re planning,” Styx said.

“Nothing good.”

With that, Pestilence vanished in a flurry of dark tendrils and the snap of dissipating magic.

“Me and my people did this,” Rowan said, her voice tinged with sadness. “We are the ones who botched that ritual and pulled them into this world. All the deaths and destruction are on my shoulders, as the last remaining of my clan. Seems like I was cursed even before…”

Styx squeezed her friend’s hand. “No, you can’t blame yourself. Even if your people were still alive. Rituals and spells go wrong all the time. That’s the nature of dealing with magic and power.”

“You can’t know that. Because it could turn out the original ritual was to summon them.”

“Doubt it. Druids weren’t the type to summon evil forced from outside of the known realms. I completely believe it was an accident.”

“Everything from that time is gone, so I don’t think we’ll know.” Rowan let out a breath and glared once more at the papers stuck to the wall before leaving without another word.

Styx exhaled and slumped to a chair. The reports stared back at her, taunting her with the expectation of failure and the sting of defeat. The demons would destroy them if they couldn’t figure out what they were after. When the four horsewomen fell, Earth and all the known realms would be quick to follow.

Still restless, she looked back at the pages. Just before she turned, a word caught her attention. Elysian.