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Jack of all trades, master of trade.

- SOURCE UNKNOWN

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  "YOU KNOW," I SAY TO CAS, WHILE BITING INTO MY SHARE of our dried harpy bits, “we haven’t crashed into any other Chosen, and it’s been three days. Don’t you think that it’s a bit dangerous?” Suspicious? Weird?

  Cas shrugs. “You want to seek them out?” he asks, casually. Caution. Thinks it’s a bad idea.

  He’s shirtless, but we’re both comfortable enough with each other, I think. If he tries anything, though, it would be my first time castrating someone.

  And us both being the cautious people are, I have yet to learn his actual Ability.

  “Who knows, maybe some of them are making alliances and trying to find us,” I reply, swallowing the dry, familiar meat. “We’ve already recorded most of the monsters in our range. It’ll be best to watch some of them, assuming they don’t have a locating Ability of some sort.”

  The ‘records’ I’m referring to are harpy skins and leaves scrawled over with dark monster blood using a small bone stylus that was the remnant of a finger bone.

  We’ve encountered harpies, rabid griffins, but all of them were small - Cas informed me that there were scyllas and charybdi in the waters, and for once I felt glad we’re deep in the jungle and not there.

  But then I remember that we’re closer to the monsters, and then I frown.

  I take apart and dissect the small creatures - not really monsters, just creatures - Cas manages to take by surprise, and I note down their organs, skeletal structures, and weak points as best as I can.

  And then, we memorize their anatomy, go out to hunt - Cas goes alone, sometimes, if I’ve made a discovery - and soon enough, we’ve got a large stockpile and a water stream.

  I still get the feeling that we’ve only scraped the top of the icicle, but we’ve been lucky so far. Too lucky.

  The rainforest - or is it a jungle? - has a sleepy lull to it, like it’s luring us to go to sleep, with moist drops lingering on fern-colored shrubbery and the unnerving lack of insects, snakes, and birds.

  It’s as if it’s waiting for the optimal time to strike, and I tell myself it’s paranoia - I’ve fallen asleep multiple times, with Cas keeping watch and vice versa - but my Ability agrees it’s not.

  It’s too quiet.

  “It would be the better thing to do,” Cas concludes, “but-”

  A long, loud scream, ripping through the jungle.

  Close. Very close.

  A human scream.

  We exchange a glance, and instantly Cas puts a finger to his lips. He’s better at moving stealthily, as if he’s used to slipping over obstacles unseen.

  I follow as he slinks through the trees, that mischievous glint in his eyes hardening, a cold smile on his face like he enjoys it.

  We quickly approach the scene, stepping delicately, and I duck behind a thick tree trunk. Godsbroken Chosen.

  That was exactly what was in our eyeview.

  Jonas, the Chosen of Hephaestus that reminded me of cut glass, is ganging up on a lithe Chosen. His neck wound, courtesy of Caspian, is still fresh. The golem summoner.

  Triumph. Arrogance. Satisfaction, the surprisingly dainty Forge-touched projects.

  This should be interesting.

  I watch as the pale-skinned boy controls his mechanical golems, his hands moving in discreet motions as the mechanical structures slowly advance, blocking the Chosen’s path of escape.

  Star-shaped gears like a machine made of clockwork, clicking together with stems attaching. Steam-powered?

  I assumed since the way my Ability was given - here you go, a vague, metaphysical concept, use it to kill people - Jonas’ would be a lot less material, in the sense that it would be more magically powered, using the impossible as a foundation.

  But based on what I see, the machinery looked possible - but the power source...The golden orb, my Ability hisses. Golden orb - Godly power? If Hephaestus-

  Cas elbows me, gesturing me to stop drooling over the golems. I shoot back a glare, but tear my eyes away from the theoretical and continued watching.

  The slim Chosen had their arm torn off - that was probably the reason behind the scream - with large, unblinking eyes underneath the blood.

  They seem calm, I note. As if they had already accepted their death.

  No - As if they had seen Death, my Ability replies. Shoving the conclusion into my mind - “Chosen of Hades, I think,” I whisper, extremely quietly, in Cas’ ear. Cas nods.

  The golems aren’t fast, but they’re strong, and soon enough the other has nowhere to escape.

  I tense, as my reflexes prickle - left - as I drag Cas along with me sharply. Air bends in a whipping crack, as an arrow implants itself into the bushes right where we were before.

  My widened eyes meet Cas’, and he’s similarly looking out at the clearing - the sound we make when we move exposes us, and we have no choice but to watch, slowly standing up, as two others advance into the clearing.

  Halkyone, and Maia.

  All gazes turn to us, and I remember to casually stretch, as if we planned to get caught all along. Cas sports that unnerving grin, but his shoulders are tense and his hands are twitchy, as he also smiles.

  The pale-necked archer looks extremely surprised - a flicker of fear appears in those olive eyes - the dark-skinned spearhandler does a double-take between Jonas and us, and Jonas just raises an eyebrow.

  “Jonas, long time no see.” Cas lifts up a hand in friendly greeting, as if they were old companions.

  “Correct me if I'm wrong,” the golem summoner replies, airily. “But the last time we saw each other was what-” Jonas cocks his head to the side, as if deep in thought “-two days ago? When you tried to kill me?”

  “Three,” I correct, placidly, as I use my Ability to scan the scene.

  Halkyone flinches as my eyes pass her, and I let my lips twitch in amusement. Fear, anger, uprisal.

  Maia’s caution grows. Turbulent. Mixed feelings. More concerned about the surroundings. I blink. We could run for it, deeper- “Is Iason alright? Vivianna, too?”

  Halkyone spits, “You cut his vocal cords, how do you expect-”

  Maia interrupts, tentatively. “Halkyone, don’t be too loud. We’re near the monsters.” But her fist clenches on the spear. “Why are you here?”

  “Killing monsters. Eating them. Why else?” Cas asks. “It’s a pity we know you guys. I was hoping for a change in food. Harpy gizzard gets old. Chosen meat-”

  “Humans?” Halkyone squeaks, her bluster gone. “You guys are cannibals?”

  I warn, mostly for the sake of theater, “Cas. No need to antagonize our friends.” I draw out the last word, casting a diplomatic glance towards Jonas, whose eyebrow is still arched, and getting a higher arch in return. “Besides, we’re interrupting the show. Let the people murder in peace.”

  Cas shrugs. “Fine by me,” he drawls. If it was another, I would’ve been worried. But no, he knows that I'm going for a hook, line, and sinker. “They’re probably not willing to trade information anyway, unless-” He leaves the suggestion open.

  A ploy.

  Bait.

  Hook.

  When you’re starting diplomatic negotiations, the one thing you have to remember, the unnamed author of Diplomacy Basics had written, is that “negotiations” are just a fancy name for two swindlers trying to get the most benefits out of each other.

  In the end, it all boils down to who needs what most.

  We don’t need to convince all of them, I think, just two. Just two.

  “We’re not taking your bait,” Jonas huffs, but his eyes are sly. “My neck still hurts.”

  Compensation? Fat chance.

  “Like Cas said, it’s fine by us,” I reply. It really is. Unless they have-

  “We have information about the other Chosen,” Maia replies, calmly. Good girl. “We don’t have to kill each other...yet.”

  The ‘yet’ is obviously a warning, which I ignore. I clap my hands together. Halkyone flinches again. She really is scared.

  “Right, then. Two deals are on the table. One: you tell me their-” I point towards the half-dead Chosen “-Ability and I’ll take them off your hands.”

  Cas interjects, “Two: for every Chosen - excluding the three here, and ourselves - you tell us the name of, we’ll give you one monster’s weak point. For every Ability - again, excluding the three here, and ourselves - two.”

  Line.

  Jonas snorts. “It’s a ripoff, I tell you.”

  Maia and Halkyone are easy to scare.

  If they had ventured a bit deeper into the jungle and found only harpies, they would’ve realised the reality of the real danger being at the jungle’s heart. But they hadn’t, and from the looks of it, it was their first time walking this deep.

  They’re scared, and Jonas acted individually, so they were easier to convince.

  We have to exude an aura of experience, capability. Only people like us are able to survive.

  Maia shifts, uneasily. Now that I look closer, her hair is coiffed, but not to the point where it was inconvenient. Her armor’s strapped closely and professionally to her skin, which meant she had prepared.

  A type that values preparation, but not to the point of being a strategist. A warrior.

  She seems experienced with the spear.

  A Guard’s daughter, probably, but no livery in sight.

  Halkyone’s the type I dislike - mentally weak, succumbs easily to the environment around her if not shielded by powerful people, but has supposedly strong beliefs. A typical sixteen-year-old youth, but I’m not one to judge.

  Personal preferences aside, she seems good with the bow, and nimble. She’s mustered guts, judging from the arrow she shot.

  “Like I said, two deals,” I say. “You can take both, one, or neither.” I glance at the bloodied, one-armed Chosen. “I like...he? She? Something else? Them?” I check.

  An extremely small, painful nod at the last one.

  “Yeah, I like them. They seem cool,” I say, brightly.

  Cas doesn’t disagree.

  “Cool?” Halkyone repeats. “He went into our camp and stole our supplies!” He-”

  “They,” Cas and I correct in unison.

  “-pissed off Vivianna!” the archer continues, ignoring me. “He needs to face the repercussions!”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Angering the redhead’s lese-majeste now?” I ask curtly, turning to Cas. “I didn’t know. Did you know?”

  “As far as I know, the Emperor’s still alive,” he replies, casually. “I-”

  Jonas stops Halkyone from continuing. “If you want them, you can take them,” he offers, a cunning smile still on his face. “But what will you give in return for their Ability?”

  Ah.

  “Two weak points,” Cas butts in, holding up two fingers before I open my mouth. “No more, no less.”

  “Alright,” Jonas agrees. At least he recognizes the concession. “That Chosen-” he points at the one-armed person in the center of his golems, still writhing in pain “-can blend into shadows. Temporarily. A useful skill, if it weren’t so weak. I don’t know what’ll you use them for, but if I ever catch them near the camp again, I’ll kill them.”

  “Of course,” I reply immediately. “Cas, you can take them back to camp. Make sure not to leave a blood trail.” I turn to receive a nod, and Jonas parts the golems. Both of our hands are still on our dagger-hilts.

  I turn back again, and see the three Chosen.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” I say.

  Even if you’ll try to follow us to ambush our camp and kill us in our sleep.

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  “Why?”

  “Why they’re trying to kill us, why Sera’s a pyromaniac, ow-” Cas is interrupted by a smack from me “-or why we exist on this continent? I dunno, you’re going to have to be specific.”

  “I’m not a pyromaniac,” I reply, honestly, “Setting things on fire is cliche. Dramatically leaping off cliffs while you set things on fire’s where it’s at.” Cas wrinkles his nose, and is about to retort, when he’s interrupted by the Hades’ Chosen.

  “Why did you save me?” they clarify.

  “Because we want to sacrifice your other arm in a ritual for the glory of the Empire,” I say as I snort, sarcastically.

  “What Sera is saying,” Cas says, as I shoot him a dirty look, “is that we would like information.”

  They raise an eyebrow. No awkwardness, no fear. “Or else, what? You’ll kill me?”

  I shrug. “Killing you is cliche, too. I imagine it hurt when your arm got ripped off. You’ve seen death, haven’t you?” You take comfort in it. “I can make sure you want to see Your Liege again. Or not. It’s your choice.”

  “Right, you’re threatening me,” they reply, dryly. I pretend to look offended, like I wasn’t threatening them, even though I was. “Oh Gods, no,” I say, as if the mere thought of it affronts me. Cas snorts. I shoot him a warning look.

  “‘Not’ means you can go, free of charge,” I add. “What’s your name?”

  They raise an eyebrow. “Kage,” they say. “But most call me Skiá. And you are threatening me.”

  Cas guffaws. I turn to him. He knows? He knows, my Ability whispers.

  “No way you’re the Skiá,” he says, his tone incredulous. “Skiá’s an actual Thief, with a capital ‘T.’ The Skiá? A lanky kid like you?”

  I refrain from reminding Cas that they’re the same age as him, and look questioningly at him. “I’m guessing Skiá’s someone special?”

  Cas looks at me for a second. “I keep forgetting you’re from Inevita,” he says, before continuing, “the Eternal City has four quarters - the Fisher Quarter, or the East, the Merchant Quarter, or the West, the Upper Quarter, and the Lower Quarter. Skiá’s renowned for frequenting the Merchant Quarter at night.”

  I know the Quarters but Skia...

  “By frequenting, I assume you mean stealing from,” I reply, turning to Kage.

  Then how did they get caught?

   “That’s a pretty nifty trick, tho, Kags. How long can your Ability work? What’s the Drawback?”

  Kage raises an eyebrow at the nickname. “My arm stump’s still bleeding,” they point out, even though it has nothing to do with the question.

  I already asked Cas to mislead both Vivianna’s minions and Jonas, along with Kage themselves, so our tracks are covered up enough.

  I have an idea of what herbs I need to stop the bleeding, but one: it’s Unwise to spend effort to save a person that’s not useful, my Ability reminds me, and two: you have no idea whether the herbs can be found in the jungle.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Yeah, then tell us before you bleed out, then,” Cas says, his arms crossed.

  “Play nice,” I scold him. I turn to Kage. “Kags,” I begin, “I’ll try to heal you, alright? I know plants. A trade - information for the healing, alright?" My tone was light and airy. Humor me.

  Kage snorts.

  “Right, let me at least pretend to believe you for a minute,” they rasp, coughing, before they continue, “Vivianna and her cronies - the girls by the names Maia and Halkyone, and that guy Iason and the outlier Jonas whatever - have set up camp fifty miles in that direction, give or take.” They turn their head a bit towards the east.

  Ah.

  “Aphrodite and Zeus’ Chosen - a tallish guy named Aria and a shortish girl named Sonata, who know each other by the way - seem to be the lieutenants of some kind of military-driven, four-member group hundred or so miles in the west.”

  Truth enough, my Ability says based on their body language.

  But body language can lie.

  My memory flashes back to the beautiful dark-haired girl, and remembers the brutish-looking boy.

  “Ah, that guy who said we’re doomed to kill each other or something of the sort, and that pretty girl with the braids?” I ask, placing the names to the faces.

  Kage nods.

  Now that I think about it, I hadn’t seen much of them before they disappeared.

  They had disappeared at separate times, even if, looking back on it, they had moved familiarily, but - I had pegged most of the Chosens’ discomfort as being-plunged-in-an-arena-full-of-strangers kind of discomfort, but there was still the possibility that it was I-know-you-and-now-I-have-to-kill-you kind of discomfort, too.

  It was a Godsbroken coincidence, though.

  “So five of them, and then four of them, and then us three.” I raise an eyebrow. “Most of them seem like the rogue type, though. How did Aria and Sonata manage to rein them in? And Aria and Sonata? Are they practically screaming that they’re partners, now?”

  And how did you transport yourself across the entire isle within three days?

  An unspoken question.

  Kage shifts. “I’ll answer those questions after you stop my arm bleeding,” they say.

I snort. “Petrimor for numbness, carrionbane for stopping the blood, and sani berries for cleaning the germs. Mash up the petrimor first, and then apply. Sani berry juice is acidic, so it’ll hurt. Carrionbane’s only applied last.”

  I recite the herbs boredly, plucking the information from a corner of my head as Cas lets out a low whistle, impressed. Kage looks as if they're noting it down. Too obvious.

  For a double agent, they’re really doing a terrible job.

  “I’ll draw them for you,” I add, out of generosity, “but you’ll have to find them yourself.” A neutral pause. Right. “And you have around twenty minutes before you die of blood loss, so you better be quick.”

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  “You’re a walking contradiction,” Cas comments.

  “Thanks,” I smile, as warmly as if he had confessed that he fell in love with me at first sight. “I love you, too,” I add, patting his arm affectionately.

  Cas smiles, amused, as he lifts his other hand and traps my fingers in his, lacing them together like an old married couple. “Of course you do.”

  I snort as I let him go along with the schtick, not feeling the book-described butterflies, but rather a strange familiarity.

  His touch felt comfortable, for a person I’ve only known for three days.

  Strange.

  Oh, well.

  Kage snorts, their arm newly bandaged. “Get a room.”

  “Why, you don’t want to watch?” I ask, airily. Cas twitches with amusement, but he doesn’t let go and I continue, “What do you know about Aria and Sonata?”

  Aside from the fact that you’re spying for them.

  They were obviously here to feed me information, whether unknowingly or not. Their actions and purpose reeked of a master manipulator’s touch, but everything was so delicate.

  The move, the Crownpiece, was carefully crafted like a porcelain made an experienced sculptor’s steady hands.

  An offer, that concessions could be made.

  Kage was a Soldier that the Queen from inside the Circle offered.

  But who was the Queen?

  Who wore the Crown, Aria, Sonata, or...someone else?

  You can’t rule out the possibility of a third party, my Ability demands of me, or the possibility that Kage can be that third party.

  Ah, good old paranoia.

  “Aria’s the aggressive type,” they begin, “he’s strong. Brutal. His Ability has something to do with him, pretty much - Zeus’ Chosen. Sonata’s more of the calculative type - smart. Cool. Kinda like you, actually, but not as crazy.”

  Crazy.

  I feel almost pleased. They think I’m insane?

  “You know what,” I say. “They obviously want me to come over.” A trap? Probably. “We should greet our neighbors.”

  I feel Cas frown from behind me, as he casually slips his hand from mine.

  “I think it’s a bad idea,” he says lightly. I think it’s a bad idea, not it’s a bad idea.

  I lean closer, and ask in a low voice that they’ll undoubtedly hear, “Who do you think’s their owner?”

  “Skiá works for no one,” Cas whispers back. “But anyone can be used.”

  Anyone can be used.

  It gets a twitch out of Kage, which we both notice.

  Ah, bad history?

  I turn, so the Hades’ Chosen doesn’t see my amused smile. But Cas does, and his eyebrow twitches in that way they do before he does his smile, except he holds back.

  “Want to give the dog back to their owner?” he whispers, this time making an effort to be quiet.

  “Make the dog start a turf war?” I propose.

  But either way, a dog was a dog, albeit a pretty one.

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  Vivianna Bloodthorn sighs.

  “So, you’re telling me,” she repeats, “that you encountered two other Chosen?”

  Maia nods, while Halkyone blinks in a hesitant yes. Jonas, a Godsbroken ‘epitome of shiftiness,’ as the Mother would’ve called him, grudgingly with some sort of respect, was tampering with his golems, like he’d been doing for the past three days.

  It’s the same process, Vivianna notes, from what she’s seen - he pokes at the glowing golden orb, it sparks with something and his finger bounces back, and he moves to a different spot while implementing the process once more. Sometimes the vase takes a break between repeats, to think.

  A vase.

  Mother collected them, the familiar memory blazing in Vivianna’s mind, a row of pretty shapes in unique twists. Some were made of the Eastern-imported porcelain, others of expensive Republica platin studded with the rubies that House Bloodthorn specialized in.

  Few did not know of the Viscountess Bloodthorn’s vase-collecting frenzy, the Bloodthorn’s funds being split between the expansion of the House and Mother’s ever-growing hobby. It was an obsession, really, the rows of vases empty of flowers when that was their purpose.

  Vivianna always thought of the display shelf that they sat on as undeniably ostentatious, even now.

  But nobody questions Mother, Vivianna reminds herself as she raises an eyebrow. Nobody.

  Especially when the Viscountess bought a new vase every time she crushed an enemy.

  “And, pray tell, you made a deal with them?”

  My blood, Mother would say, do not ask questions you know the answer to.

  They are not deserving of confirming your knowledge.

  Maia shifts, but a flicker of irritation makes it way on her face.

  Jonas snorts.

  But Halkyone replies meekly, “Yeah. Sorry.”

  And then Maia tugs Halkyone away, and Jonas approaches Vivianna, and suddenly her day becomes a lot worse.

  Jonas - last name unprovided - reminds Vivianna of the Viscountess’ prized vase. A monstrosity of Imperial gold, ivory, platin, and porcelain, shoved into one stunning structure that had nearly depleted the viscounty’s funds when purchased.

  Both looked very fragile, very expensive, and were very dangerous when broken.

  “You know,” he says, a grin on his face, “we hate it when you treat us like subordinates. We all have an equal chance of killing you, you know.”

  Vivianna doesn’t let the revelation startle her, but still her placid expression remains. Treat your friends as subordinates, and most will follow you, Mother whispers.

  Was Mother wrong?

  “Speak for yourself.” A pause. “And maybe Maia,” the noble adds.

  The merchant’s daughter with the spear.

  Jonas shrugs. “As long as you know, my Lady Bloodthorn,” he replies with a smirk on his face.

  “I do,” Hera’s Chosen replies, “just as I know your tinkering with that golden core in your golems means something you’re not telling me.”

  The pale Chosen smiles.

  Vivianna doesn’t like that smile.

  Her fingers twitch, tempted to summon a peacock and watch it peck the shifty Forge-touched to death.

  “I could tell you,” said Hephastus’ Chosen, “for a price.”

  “I would tell you to shove that price up your pretty arse,” replied the other in a clipped tone, “but we are being diplomatic here. Please, do tell.”

  Jonas raised an eyebrow. “You think my arse is pretty?” he asks, mock-sweetly, before he continues, surprisingly.

  He’s up to something.

  “That golden orb-” the Forge-touched gestures towards the source powering his golems “-is made of the same material as the barrier between the cage’s bars.”

  Vivianna recalls the scouting trips made towards the Third Isle’s borders. “The one that makes it so we can’t go through the gaps between the Cage? The invisible barrier that appears only when touched?”

  She feels her Mother tut disapprovingly.

  Remember what I said, Vivianna.

  “It’s some material of the Gods,” replies Jonas. “Every Ability is unique, so the other Forge-touched wouldn’t have these golems.”

  “It isn’t surprising there aren’t many analyses or papers written on this - Forge-touched rarely survive the Cage,” Vivianna murmurs.

  Jonas waits for a beat, letting her figure it out, before speaking again.

  “If there’s a way to destroy the golden orbs,” he finishes, a bit impatiently, “there’s a way to escape the Cage.”

  Escaping the Cage, instead of waiting for it to open?

  She feels Mother’s words echo - there are two things that are practically suicide in the Empire: going against me, and going against the Gods’ will.

  Ignoring the first part, the Gods put them in here.

  There had never been a Cage without a Victor.

  If they escaped, what would they do? Jump of the Isle, swim the waters of Lake Ichor, and what? What if they managed to even get through the miles of expanse between the Cage and Inevita, what would they do?

  Vivianna looks at Jonas’ eyes, and sees a vase. She was trained to think of people as vases, with one breaking point that she would need to find.

  Jonas might be the type, that liked finding things, making things, finding how they work. If this was a test-

  He’s dangerous, had said the blue-eyed boy wielding the blades. Caspian, the wild card’s partner.

  ‘Seraphina,’ the one of three wild cards that were floating around. The one who had a noble killed for a single insult, and the one who had helped trying to kill Jonas.

  Mother liked to play cards, too. She had a terrible - or excellent, if you thought about it - poker face, but won every single time.

  Act like Mother.

  The Viscountess’ daughter feels her lips move. “Are-”

  Perhaps it would become a trademark, that her enemies would pick up, Vivianna Bloodthorn thinks with amusement.

  “-you a gambling man, Jonas?”

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  Rayan Moreau was never the patient type. “Sonata,” he hisses in a low voice, “what the fuck are you doing?”

  Arden Valynse was always the patient type. “There, there, Aria.” The beautifully murderous, stunningly idiotic, and calculatingly malevolent girl was draped across a makeshift chair across from Rayan.

  They had both been Nameless, once, until Rayan was adopted by a Guard and Arden by a brothel owner, and given surnames to match their new lives at fourteen. Gone were the times of barely functioning organs, of the gnawing hunger in their bellies and bones, replaced with food and shelter and a warm family.

  Well, a warm enough family. Rayan’s strict mother and Guard father loved him enough, with Sir Damien Moreau’s reputation firm and steady. Hot-tempered, arrogant, but firm with the rapier strapped to his waist.

  “Sonata,” he says, warningly, “you sent Kage away on a reconnaissance mission without my permission?”

  “Permission?” Arden - Sonata, technically - asks, languidly. “I need your permission now, R- Aria? You really haven’t changed in these two years. Still the bossy type, I see.”

  Rayan, about to spit a retort, is interrupted by a smiling green-eyed girl.

  “Sonata? Aria? Are you alright?” Lia, Chosen of Dionysus, asks sweetly.

  Gods. Rayan grits his teeth, his rapier hand twitching as he considers slicing the God of Revelry’s Chosen to death. “We-”

  “A lover’s spat,” Euthalia, Demeter’s Chosen, drawls from her sleeping area. “No need to worry, Lia - unless you’re interested in becoming lovers with someone?”

  The surprisingly flirty Chosen who practically hounded everyone into calling her Thalia wriggles her eyebrows, and Cecilia blushes.

  “Oh, fuck off, Thalia,” Rayan says, venomously. “I’m-”

  “Disagreeing with a perfectly rational decision,” Arden cuts in, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  Rayan twitches. “This is a temporary alliance, Arden. That means I can kill you whenever I want,” he threatens, ignoring Lia’s stricken face. “And if you don’t get that Godsbroken hand off me, you won’t have a hand at all.”

  Arden’s hand doesn’t move.

  Rayan reaches for his rapier.

  “Come on, you love me too much to kill me,” Arden says, still relaxed, as she leans closer, her voice a whisper. “A united front, Aria. You’ve sworn an Oath. Kage is dispensable to my plan. You are not.”

  Yet.

  An unspoken word.

  It was always ‘yet’ with her.

  “Do you realize-” Rayan blusters “-how twisted this Cage is? For fucking Gods’ sake, Hera threw Hephaestus off Olympus and look at their Chosen, all buddy-buddy now! Look, Poseidon and Athena supposedly argued over an entire city and are enemies, and their Chosen? They’re basically fucking each other, supposedly!”

  “Supposedly,” Thalia unhelpfully adds.

  “Oh, FUCK OFF-”

  “Moreau.”

  Arden’s voice is uncharacteristically firm, and Euthalia’s “oh, he’s in trouble” did nothing to  extinguish the fire in her eyes.

  Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Pleasure was technically the oldest Olympian, born of Ouranos’ ichor. Although Rayan knows himself of Arden’s indisputable age, there’s something ancient, formidable lurking in her eyes as Arden tightens her hold on his shoulder almost painfully.

  Something ancient that even the Lightning King inside him is enthralled by.

  “Fine,” Rayan feels himself snapping. And he storms off.

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  An Outsider’s Impression of ‘Visava’ [Imperi Translation]

  外国人对 ' 必撒巴 ' 的印象

  Written by Shangguan Ming (上官冥)

  Translated by Vanna, Analyst

  宗教 [Religion]

  Among those of Visava, religion is not considered of cultural importance, but merely a tool of power, wielded by those in power. There is no clear definition of the religion they call 'Anothen' - Imperi for 'above' - nor the religion they call 'Kato' - Imperi for 'below.'

  he Empire Eoina boasts the continent’s largest Anothen population after a previous Kato genocide (the only Kato population said to be the holy Cagekeepers that follow Hyperion), but most of aforementioned Anothen do not engage in worship of any kind.

  The Roma Republic contains a steady mix of Beliefs, while the Union of the Forbidden has a predominantly Kato population.

  The strange thing about Beliefs - what they call their two religions - is that they all technically Believe that Gods exist. All the continent believes that the Kato Titans exist, as do the Anothen Olympians.

  If you wanted to heavily make a distinction between the two, most would say that the Kato worship the Titans and the Anothen the Olympians; however, the fact remains that both the Kato and the Anothen, again, mostly do not engage in Godly worship of any kind.

  So what separates these two?

  The Roma Republic’s Anothen have a different branch of the Belief, having several different names for their Olympians and even different attributes, but it primarily maintains the same values, albeit a more ‘war-like’ version. However, Republica Anothen tend to distance themselves from the ‘cowardly’ Imperial Anothen.

  Inside the Empire reside anti-Kato roots - due to the reign of Lysimachos the Insane - with the rare extremist that takes it a step further and actively discriminates against the rare Imperial Kato.

  Not much is known about Beliefs in the Union, due to the continent’s turbulent relationship with the Forsaken, but they do seem to follow the Clytemnestra and Agamemnon’s lead in being avid Kato believers. They respect the Titans chained in Tartarus, or ‘Below,’ known as Pillars of their Belief.

  Both Anothen and Kato, however, seem to have animosity against each other dating back to the Slaughter (see ‘The Insane Emperor’ in 历史 [History]).

  However, the continent itself’s history as a whole seems to be the embodiment - casually speaking - of one traitorous eunuch betraying another for the crown, only it happens over and over again.

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  I smile.

  “Let’s make a deal,” I say, my back on the jungle ground. The dirt is dry, and it doesn’t stick to my clothes.

  Another unusuality, among the strange beauty of the island, emeralds in the shape of swaying leaves blocking the light of the cerulean sky. The colors are bright, the atmosphere relaxing, while the scenario itself makes me feel a sense of undeniable dread.

  Too peaceful, my Ability keeps insisting. Danger.

  Cas snorts, the sound coming from beside me. “I mean, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “You have plenty. They’re just bad ones to make.” I turn on my side. The idyllic paradise above spirals out of sight, replaced by Cas’ grinning face.

  Light and shadow dot the rogue’s face, and I’m reminded of his promotion from stranger to casual acquaintance.

  His tan bronze skin, similar to most of the Eternal City - and Inevita, although most of the people there sported weathered faces to booth - gleams with the sheen of youth that I’ve never seen on my skin before.

  Purpose. He has a purpose, my Ability says. I shove it aside.

  I’ve looked in the mirror quite a couple times.

  Most of the compliments I receive go along the lines of being directed towards my ‘ethereal, otherworldly beauty.’ It’s really just a polite synonym for ‘ghost-like,’ if you think about it. I’ve never seemed solid, to them, human.

  Fun.

  They don't even think I'm human.

  Humans are doomed to think that finding a purpose in life is our purpose.

  A mix between dark blue and light, the color of storm lightning, is the color of his eyes. A nose bordering hawkish, lithe fingers and a steady build - he’s attractive in that lean, dangerous way.

  The kind that keeps you on edge, like you’re not sure whether to stab him or be friends with him. My current dilemma.

  “So what’re the terms?” he asks me, meeting my eyes while letting me stare.

  “My Ability for yours, we switch, burn everything in sight.” Of course, that wasn't just it.

  But you’ll have to kill him, soon enough, if you want to win.

  A pity.

  You’ve never pitied someone for dying before.

  But there's always a first for everything.

  “What do you want?” Cas suddenly asks. “Out of the universe?”

  What do you ‘want out of’ the universe?

  Suggests that he expects me to grab the universe by the scruff and threaten it into submission.

  “Knowledge is interesting,” I reply. “And knowledge is power.” Even though Athena says otherwise.

  “You want power...because it intrigues you.” Cas’ voice is quiet, but his tone still humorous, like he was telling a joke but still dwindling on it.

  “Yeah, pretty much. You want me to elaborate, or nah?”

  You don’t want me to elaborate.

  “Nah.” Cas shakes the sentence off, before I probe him.

  “What do you want out of the universe?” I ask him. What’s the purpose that shines on your being?

  “To not have a purpose,” he says. He inches a bit closer, his breath on my face.

  I usually dislike skin contact - not dislike, really, just distaste. Everything is superficial yet not when it comes to the nobles - handshakes, shoulder pats, even the odd chaste kisses. Social connections.

  Every gesture has to mean something, a political opportunity either taken or lost. Even in Inevita, where people rarely visit.

  This time, I don’t imagine his head on a pike.

  That has to mean something, too.

  You’re growing a soft spot.

  No.

  It’s interest.

  Soft spots will only be used against me. Soft spots won’t lead me to power, or victory, so therefore-

  He isn’t useless, some voice at the back of my brain hisses. He has a role in our plan-

  His Abilities aren’t useless, another concludes, but rather his place in your life.

  I shut all the voices out, allowing only my Ability to speak - Kage. Plan. Win.

  And so, I ignore the comfortable feeling in my chest as I continue speaking about my plans for the Cage.

  “So do we have a deal?” I ask.

  Likelihood - likely. Twitching mouth, yet steady gaze. Probability of betrayal?

  “And so the deal is struck,” Cas offers, using the lingo of the Merchants of the Empire.

It means something.

  The Merchants were renowned for their traitorous reputation.

  But, then again, who wasn't?

  “And so the deal is struck,” I agree, and we exchange Abilities.

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