Abdul stood at the swung open front door of Troll’s Treasure, bewildered by the surge of crowds flooding the streets. Thousands of citizens and travelers alike gathered in Monestate for the Major Festival to celebrate a dead god. No matter how many times Abdul witnessed the holiday, the blinding liveliness of it all never failed to surprise him. Nothing nearly as extravagant ever happened in Zaibah.

He gazed inside to Randle who’d decided to take a nap on the wooden floor, neck propped against the wall. All he did now was drink, sleep, and mumble to himself like some alcoholic ghoul. The store had been closed for two weeks at that point. Abdul sighed, unable to ascertain the last time Randle didn’t reek.

As expected, Isaac soon arrived with the help he promised the night before. To Abdul’s disappointment though, it was just one unassuming, young woman. She wasn’t warrior material at all either. Though on the taller side, she lacked brawn.

Isaac introduced the girl. Her black hair and bangs were cut to not be in the way. “This is Elise. She doesn’t like talking about herself, but the boys theorize she’s a long-lost princess from somewhere. All that matters is that I and The Colosseum wouldn’t be the same without her.”

Elise furrowed her brow in annoyance at her introduction.

Abdul shook her hand. Awkward silence stood between them until Isaac broke it. “Oh, forgot to mention. She’s mute right now. Unable to speak. There was another that planned to come, but they chickened out after I mentioned Rath Ghul.”

“That’s unfortunate. Nice to meet you, Elise.”

Elise nodded in response. Her resting expression leaned toward sly and mischievous like something funny was on her mind. Then Abdul noticed the absurd number of injuries. Elise lacked a left hand and walked with a limp. A steel prosthetic replaced the void. One of her eyes had cataracts.

Isaac noticed his unsureness. “She’s extraordinary. I promise. Just you wait.”

“What about her machina? Her ability?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself.”

Elise playfully fist bumped him in the chest. Abdul looked down to notice an alloy-studded cestus armoring her knuckles. Its light blue eye stared up at him. In the next moment, his words caught in his mouth. “Ughm. Am— Bah—.” Abdul’s face stiffened in panic.

I— I can’t speak! My tongue?!

He reached up to his agape mouth to feel for his tongue but found a void where his left hand used to rest. Now a stub remained. Abdul gasped in shock at the sight.

She flaunted his own fingers to him, speaking to her with his tongue. “This cestus’s name is Ween. Its power, 'Voodoo Lady'. I can switch aspects with and between anything I touch. None of these injuries are mine. I took the burden of them from a veteran to give him a better life.”

Isaac hung over her shoulder, amped up as if witnessing a rarity. “It’s been a minute since I’ve gotten to hear your voice.”

Abdul freaked out even more. Elise realized and put her hand on his chest to fix the mess. “Ah, sorry. You can have these back.”

In the next moment, Abdul returned to normal, and Elise’s handicaps returned. He stuttered. “Holy—Ho—Holy shit.”

Isaac who found the whole exchange hilarious. “I know, she can be devilish, but we’re working on it.”

Elise did a proud little bow with a content expression. They gathered inside and went down to the cellar. Ignazio sat on Randle’s prized reclining chair; his wrists enchained to a nearby table leg. If he wanted to, he probably could’ve slid it off and escaped with ease.

Upon seeing Abdul and the others, he got strangely giddy. “Abdul, I’ve missed you. Been working on detailing out this map more.”

Isaac crossed his arms. “So, this is that prisoner you talked about? I don’t get that kind of energy though. Are you two…?”

Abdul planted his feet defensively. “He’s… gotten way too comfortable down here. Reminds me of some kind of syndrome. Doesn’t fear for his life in the slightest and acts like he owns the place. Damned freeloader.”

Ignazio shook his head. “We’ve already talked about this, Abdul. We can work things out.”

“Like hell we can! Stop bringing it up.”

Isaac and Elise looked like they’d walked into the middle of something forbidden. He muttered. “Let’s leave these two alone.” Elise blushed.

Abdul halted them. “No, stay. Everything here’s ready.” He retrieved masks of the owl from a drawer hidden out of sight and passed them out.

Isaac looked impressed. Then he shot a glare over his shoulder to where a ton of nothing stood. “No, you can’t have one.”

Elise found it strange. Isaac questioned her. “Can you see that phantom?”

Suspicious, she shook her head.

“Come on.”

They stood around a wooden roundtable. Abdul traced his finger throughout Rath Ghul’s sanctum. It was a labyrinth that might as well have been an underground town. Over eighty halls and rooms of twisting and shifting sizes and complexities over the course of three levels.

Length wise, the sanctum sprawled far enough with outbranching tunnel systems to provide entrance points all across Monestate’s districts. There were even hidden escape passages reaching behind the city, out into the woods of The Golden Wield. It was shaped like an upside down pyramid.

Abdul sighed. “I wanted to kill every owl and burn this place to the ground, but it’s so damn big that it seems impossible. At least a few would end up escaping. They’d travel north to New Gareth and inform that sect of Rath Ghul. We’d have over twice the number of enemies after us.”

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Everyone looked over the map more until Isaac spoke up. “Are their deaths that important to you? I thought our first and foremost goal was to save Sasha. That’s why Elise and I are here at least. You don’t mention her often.”

The jab at Abdul made his shoulders slump. He avoided eye contact. “Of course, I plan to save Sasha. It’s just that all I think about now is Rath Ghul’s destruction. I can’t help how I feel.”

“But why is it so important to you?”

Abdul faced Isaac, putting his hand on his own heart. “They killed my brother. My only family. He understood me and my past more than anybody. They took something from me that they’ll never be able to pay back. So, now all that’s left to take is their organs.” His voice shook.

Elise put her hand softly on his shoulder with a solemn face. He figured it was to console him. That was until he couldn’t speak. She stole his tongue. “I understand, Abdul. The world would be better without Rath Ghul, so I say kill them all. But Isaac’s right too. I’m here to save Sasha. That comes first.”

As he had no tongue, he couldn’t argue. He nodded reluctantly. She continued. “But that’s not to say we can’t obliterate them. We can do both. We just need to hit them hard enough on our way out that they’ll never be able to stand in this city again.”

She looked in between everyone in the room including Ignazio. “Is there anything in there we could use against them?”

Ignazio rose his hand. With an aloof expression, he uttered. “Oil. They store it along with a tonna other flammable resources in the second level to keep the torches, furnaces, and Al Yara’s hot tub in order. They guard it closely out of worry for exactly this type of incident.”

She blinked rapidly, taken aback. “Hot tub? You said that so casually.”

“That’s right,” Ignazio confirmed.

Abdul looked down at his hands. He recalled waking up from Ricard’s Nightmare set ablaze. The flames didn’t burn him. They were his in entirety. He tapped Elise politely, pointing at his tongue. She tilted her head before realizing what he meant. “Whoops. Here.”

“I’m a walking lighter,” Abdul started. “Not sure why, but if anybody’s gonna burn the sanctum down, it should be me. We’ll get in, get Sasha out, and then you all just leave the rest to me.” He shook his head.

Isaac looked at him as if stricken by a bleak realization. He almost interrupted Abdul but ended up holding his words. Looking down at his feet with a blank expression, he wondered to himself.

Abdul addressed everyone around that room. “It looks like we’re set then. We leave at dusk.”

***

Sasha curled up in a ball on the stone ground. Having ran out of things to wonder or think about, all she did now was sleep. Deprived of water and food, she couldn’t bear the dryness of her mouth and lips beginning to crack. I’ll die right here before they even hang me.

The sound of distant rushed footsteps brushed her ear. At Sasha’s lowest point now, she didn’t care. Maybe that crow masked doctor was on his way over. Maybe he’d end her suffering. That’s what she sensed in his malice earlier, at least. He was out for her neck. The steps stopped.

Sasha barely opened her eyes to see a tall man standing outside her prison cell, hands tightly gasping the bars, forehead up and pressed against them. He observed her like some tourist visiting a rare animal’s enclosure. Thorin darted his focus off to someone to his left out of her view before going right back to Sasha. “This is really her. The kid’s sister?”

Jericho confirmed his fascination. “Yep, that’s right, you’re welcome.” He strolled off on his own business.

“This will be big then.” Thorin knelt and went through his satchel with impatience. Still dressed in the dusty outfit from his long contract, he revealed an ornamental dagger. As old as it was frail, its steel had long lost its edge and luster. The man entered Sasha’s prison and crept up to her. “Give me your attention, brat.”

Sasha didn’t react. If anything, she withered away. Thorin sighed and then lowered to her side. “Hey, you, wake up.” He jabbed her cheek with his finger until she gave him a groan and fluttering blinks. That was all he could get out of her.

Thorin took hold of her limp arm, opened her fingers, and placed the dagger into them. “Oy, you remember, right? Think back. Think about your brother.”

Sasha squinted at that dagger and thought back. She recalled the vague night Ley returned with it. Even though he denied it, she knew he’d stolen it. Sasha nodded to acknowledge Thorin, but speaking only reminded her of how dry her mouth was. The dagger’s blade shone a pulsing blue light. An eye creaked open as its hilt morphed in shape to resemble a deer’s antler.

A wry, self-satisfied grin stretched across Thorin’s face. “Machina, what is your name?”

“I am Major. We meet again, owl.”

Thorin’s skin washed pale. He uttered out something too low for Sasha to hear. “A great machina… head of the pantheon too. God. Jackpot.”

Sasha woke up amid twilight planes blanketed by fog. Spectral, see-through flowers and trees radiating low blue light sprouted up around her. A bluish giant of a full moon painted across the sky as rain pitter-pattered against her skin. She walked toward a cliff’s edge where what looked to be a throne sat. Seated there, a withered man with an elk’s head gazed out into a calm sea. Its horns sprawled out like branches.

“Where am I?” She asked it.

The elk spoke, yet its mouth didn’t move. Its voice reverberated from within Sasha’s head. “What is this strange feeling you’re inspiring in me?”

She walked up to the apparition’s side and then observed her own translucent fingers while questioning it bluntly. “Ah, so I’m finally dead. Is this the afterlife then? Who ended up being right? Was it the Ailmoran Church? The Zaibans? The pagans from The Westwinds? Are you a god? Why are you a deer?”

The elk stared at her, tilting its head in interest. “As inquisitive as a toddler. You amuse me. I regret to inform you that you aren’t dead.” It waved its hands around. “I am Major. You’re in my realm. My soulscape. This happens when those who are worthy make contact.”

Sasha seemed confused. “But you’re just some machina, right? I’ve touched others before. This has never happened.” Primus appeared in her mind. She missed him.

“You’ve never initiated a contract before, have you? I can tell. Your bond with that primitive claymore simply wasn’t strong enough. It didn’t trust you enough to open itself.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. She poked an accusatory finger at Major's chest only for it to phase through. “How did you know— Eh, whatever. I don’t care. Watch your mouth about my friend.”

“A human and machina, friends? Amusing. Our bonds are conditional, each side expecting something from the other.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “You really like the sound of your own voice, don’t you? I mean, I do too, but at least I act like I don’t.”

Major looked back out into the sea. Some ghostly guls flew overhead, cawing. “You’ve really grown up, Sasha. Strong-willed and much less frail. Randle raised you well.”

Sasha noticed humanoid spectral figures out in the distance. They watched her, some closer than others. “Who are they?”

“Each one of them once held the dagger entrapping my soul, carrying me onwards until death. They are torchbearers and passers. Ancestors. Ghosts.”

Jericho’s words bounced in her mind. She digested them. Her brother held the dagger last. Rath Ghul slayed him. Now, here she stood next in line to inherit it. Was this fate? Sasha looked at those watchers with a sore throat. “Ley? Is he there? My big brother?”

“He is.”

“Can I speak to him?”

“Of course.”

Sasha took a step off into that direction, but Major stopped her with its grasp. She stared at the deer with wide, anticipative eyes.

“To form a contract means to sell one’s soul. After death, contractors go to their machina’s soulscape instead of the afterlife. You may see the image of your brother standing there among everyone else but, in truth, they’re all shades. Husks. Their souls are in here.” The elk clenched its own furry chest. Its heart. The soreness in Sasha’s throat grew. “Once upon a time, I was just some god. Now I have many names though. Kafka, Evilyn, Leo, Major, Ley.”

“No. Please stop talking.”

“Yes. Sasha, I am a god but I’m also now your brother. You’ve gotten taller than I ever was. Don’t worry about these owls. Form a contract with me and everything will turn out to be okay. I promise.”