“A–an offer?”

“Sit.”

A chair which seemingly generated from nowhere and nothing appeared underneath her. She found herself collapsing into it, hands falling in her lap. She was so nauseous it was hard to do anything else. She couldn’t tell if the world was spinning anymore, or if the part of her cortex responsible for perception had just given up trying.

But her brain knew one thing. An offer from the God of Deceit was a poisoned apple. And Momo wasn’t very fond of food poisoning.

“First, I will give you this bit for free,” Mordecai said with a grin. “Just because I like you so much.”

He splayed out his fingers, and a playing card appeared beneath them. He caught it between two fingers and flipped it around to face her. It was a One of Hearts, with a dagger painted on the front. She recognized the subject of the illustration immediately—it was the Soul Splitting Dagger. The one Kami and Kasula had taken from Zephyra. The last of the Wraith Artifacts.

He placed the card face up in Momo’s lap.

“There are several ways you could have solved your Wraith Box problem. One of them was sitting in your lap the whole way back on your little voyage,” he said, licking his lips. “Oh, it was so tantalizing—watching you hold victory so closely—yet you ignored it, gave it away like a common poker chip, so blissfully unaware! All because you clung like a child to your morals.”

He cackled. Momo’s heart sunk in her chest. No… He’s bluffing.

As if he was reading her thoughts, he shook his head. “I was only collecting the artifacts in order to help you. To guide you. I told Sera I was collecting them in a show of loyalty, but really, I was doing it for my own divine pleasure. I presented you with a delicious crossroads: betray your friends, betray my dear Kami, and claim the artifact as your own. If you were to study it, to learn its true nature, you would have discovered that it could cut into the very fiber of the Wraith Box, releasing all the souls back into oblivion.”

Momo’s face went as white as sheet paper. “You don’t mean…”

“Yes,” he said, pupils dilating. “You could have ended it all right there and then, Momo. But you refused what I was offering you. You refused my path. It’s a shame, really. I would have made you my next Excalibur. You were so, so close. But you didn’t want to hurt the feelings of your dear friends. You didn’t want them to hate you. Ah, hate. It’s such a delicate emotion with you humans.”

Momo’s chest tightened, emotion overwhelming her. There she had been, lecturing her younger self on being brave, on not caring what others thought of you, and yet her own failure to do had cost her months of tireless effort. Weeks and weeks of living in fear that the box would activate.

To think she could have solved it so simply.

She shook her head. It was useless to dwell. This was what he wanted—for her to start doubting herself. A classic gaslighting tactic. There was no way she could have known just how useful the dagger was. Even if she had kept it, she might never have risked disposing of the box that way. It left too many factors unknown. No. He was simply playing with his food. Momo had to keep her emotions on a tight leash.

“But it’s no matter,” he said, shrugging. “I found another use for the dagger. For the whole set, actually. My other hobby, as it turns out, is terrorizing my terrible brother. Neculai. He has gained a very important new prodigy in Vivienne, a veritable Excalibur-to-be, and I just couldn’t let that come to pass. No-can-do.”

Momo’s blood ran cold, then warmed up with a fury.

“What did you do?” she said, rising from her chair. “What did you do to Vivienne?”

He whisked his hands up defensively. “Nothing! Not me, I’m not the guilty party here. I simply offered the Wraith Artifacts as a gift to Sera’s little Holy Resistance. I heard Vivienne’s sister was enlisted in that, hm? And so if the dagger ended up in her hands, and she were to take it into battle with her sister…”

He giggled, then sighed pleasantly.

“I can’t say for sure what will happen. All I know—all I ever know—is that I have increased the odds of something interesting happening. That’s all. And I am nothing if I am not a slave to the interesting.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He clapped his hands together as Momo’s blood boiled.

“Now, enough about what didn’t come to pass. Let’s talk about the now.”

He plucked the Wraith Box from the air and held it directly in front of Momo’s eyes. It was so close she could hear the faint, somber sounds of the souls entrapped within. They were calling to her like a newborn to a mother. Ugh. Now even she was using the stupid birth metaphors. Clone-Mo had gotten in her head.

“Here’s my offer. It’s another win-win for you, by the way,” he said, quirking his head at an unnatural angle, so his face was sitting ninety degrees from his neck. “I want you to free the souls in this box using that neat ability of yours. In exchange, I will tell you what Sera’s real plan is, and how you can defeat her.”

Momo blinked at him.

“Wait, what?”

That was no deal at all.

“I told you!” he said, sensing her skepticism. He rolled his three eyes. “You only stand to benefit. You do what you set out to do—free those damned souls—and you also find out what Sera is cooking. If I were you, I’d accept quickly. Deals this good tend to have a short shelf life.”

He tapped his wrist, and although there was no watchface there, a metronomic clicking began to echo throughout the tower. The shadow of a watch’s hand fell over the room. Despite not seeing any numbers, Momo knew it was a timer. A finite number of clicks until an uncertain end.

“What’s the catch?” Momo said aggressively, throwing manners to the wayside. She was so tired of mind games. “You’re the God of Deceit, and you’re offering me a deal. This is classic Eve in the Garden of Eden behavior. I might be a fragile mortal, but I’m not stupid.”

He rolled his eyes. “Gosh, Momo, you can be so exhausting. There’s no catch. Look.”

He tossed the Wraith Box to her, and she grabbed it out of the air.

“There,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Nice catch.”

They just stared at each other for a moment, the shadow clock clicking.

On the third click, the catch dawned on her.

This wasn’t a deal. This was a setup.

“You’re no better than the rest of the pantheon, are you?” she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow, egging her on.

“You’re just smarter.”

“Oh, the flattery,” he laughed. “I’d say it won’t get you anywhere, but it will. Do go on.”

She shook her head, her teeth gritting. “The offer Sera made all the others. The one that Jarva told me about—that each god that aided her would receive a split of the mortal souls.” She looked down at the pulsing box in her hand, then back at Mordecai, his paper-thin lips plastered in a toothy grin. “If I free the remaining souls right here, in your domain, you will have gotten exactly what she promised, and more. You’d win all the spoils. Those souls would be stuck here forever, with you.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me,” Mordecai said, positively beaming. “The other gods are such bores. But me? Oh, those souls would have a rollicking good time.”

Momo didn’t share his grin. After a moment, his smile dropped.

“Alright. You’ve got me. Ha-ha. But is that really so bad, Momo? I will look after them just as I have looked after you, after Radu and Kami. I cultivate mischief—yes—but I am no Sera. I am the lesser evil, as you humans love to say.”

He made a flourishing motion with his hand and three more playing cards emerged. They had faces on them; faces Momo had never seen before. Some of them were human-looking, but most of them were monstrous, or just plain weird.

“And while I appreciate your respect for my intellect,” he said, flicking the cards in the air. They held there, spinning leisurely like toys on a rotating stand. “The word you were looking for—what differentiates me from them—is, in fact, serendipity. The ability to be at the right place at the right time. None of my compatriots actually believe that Sera will make good on this plan of hers, of course, they aren’t full-out idiots. But they just don’t have my knack for timing.”

Scissors floated through the air and rapidly started tearing at the cards, which Momo came to understand, in that moment, were the faces of the other gods of the pantheon. Even as their expressions were chopped up into slivers of paper, their visages lingered in Momo’s memory. She desperately hoped that she’d never have to face them outside the context of a playing card.

“So, Momo,” he said. “Make the easy choice. Make the right choice. Free these souls, and put them in responsible hands. Er, hand.” He smiled cheekily. “I won’t harm a hair on their little heads. Promise.”

He looked at her with a powerful longing. A sweet, caring thing. For a moment, it nearly felt genuine. In the same way that you could stare in jaw-dropping awe at a knockoff Mona Lisa, Momo locked eyes with Mordecai and felt that full-body prick of goosebumps. She gazed down at the Wraith Box in her hands and wondered…

No. I’ve come this far.

She looked back up, gaze steely.

“I’m sorry, but… I’m not interested.”

She began to float backwards, away from him. But there was that treadmill feeling again. No matter how much farther she felt like she flew, he stayed the exact same distance away. She was effectively frozen in stasis.

“Oh, well that’s too bad. But it makes no difference, does it? You can’t run, darling. I’m a god,” he laughed maniacally. “A god! And you’re just a small, insignificant mortal. Or did you forget that? Here, let me remind you.”

He snapped his fingers, and Momo was suddenly in a box. A tight, white box. A solitary confinement cell. She grabbed her chest, her heart jumping. All around her were those eyes again, watching and blinking.

“Try escaping!” his maniacal laughter echoed all around her. “It’s okay, I’m happy to wait a millenia, or few. I’m sure you’ll come around by then.”