'The first thing you must accept, David,' Thoth said. 'Is that order is not the natural state of existence.'

The statement rankled almost as much as the reedy laugh my strigoi side let out at it, but I had a feeling that was the point. Beyond helping me master my godsight, Thoth seemed intent upon teaching me in general. And if he could make me uncomfortable just by talking, what would happen once we got to the actual training?

'I know,' I replied. 'I understand that.'

Thoth shook his head, pacing on nothing in the void we were floating in. The god had taken his dog-faced baboon form, but I could still tell he was slightly disappointed, no divine perception needed.

'There is knowing, David,' Thoth-as-Aani began. 'There is understanding, and then there is believing. As a god of knowledge, I am familiar enough with all three that, I think, I can tell you they are tied to acceptance, but not the same as it.'

By now, he had sat down, though his body was bobbing up and down, swaying from side to side, even though Thoth himself wasn't even twitching.

'Let me help you, teacher to teacher,' Thoth extended a rough, leathery hand, while gesturing in front of himself with the other.

He wanted me to sit down. On what? This place...or rather, this lack of a place? Even the void of space was bursting with activity compared to it. At least there, there were particles, radiation.

And a lack of menace, like what I felt from this shifting nothingness. If anything, it reminded me of the Blackness planted in Fairie by Chernobog, though there was a sense of potential beneath, rather than of finality.

'You flatter me.' I spun a thread of Mimir's power into a platform, then sat down on it, crossing my legs to mimic Thoth's pose. His muzzle wrinkled. 'I'm not even a teacher anymore, never mind one on your level.'

'See?' Thoth pointed at my makeshift seat, ignoring my comment. 'That is better proof that you do not accept chaos as natural than any denial.'

I tensed. '...where did you say we are?'

'I did not say we are anywhere, because we are not. We are not anywhen, either, except metaphorically.' He crooked a finger towards himself. 'Hear. Listen, if you care to. It might save your health, if not your unlife. You just have to heed me.' As he spoke, Thoth shifted, changing before my eyes, until I was looking at an old man, with kohl-rimmed eyes and a long, but thin silver beard. There wasn't a single hair on his head.

I tapped my left knee with two fingers. 'Some questions first?'

'Do you wish to ask, or be asked?'

The problem with guys like Thoth was that you could never tell when they were taking the piss unless they wanted you to. 'I wish to ask you, if you don't mind.'

He nodded, beard barely moving, so I began with something harmless-relatively speaking. 'I presume you were allowed to enter Crypt headquarters, but how did we leave?'

Thoth raised one hand, and a keg the size of a bucket-he was most of a metre taller than me, and burlier than you'd expect-appeared in it. After a sip that removed a over a little, he sighed, closing his eyes. 'Did you know alcoholic drinks used to be more popular than water, because they were cleaner, and thus healthier? Less likely to sicken you, that is.'

I somehow doubted that was the entire reason booze had gotten popular, but, shit. Thoth had just made his own beer and I had nowhere to go. Better to play along before he started talking about craft beer and micro brews. 'Many people are still concerned with their health, even nowadays.'

'Mhm...adepts of harsher chemistry than brewing and winemaking. Some of the things humans make...poison. Poison for pleasure, when the water is so clear, it starts being considered dull.' Another sip. I felt the keg refill itself. 'As for your question...I charted Egypt ages before the first Pyramid was a gleam in Djoser's eye. Do you think there is any path through, beneath or above it I haven't walked?'

"I gotz mad skillz, brah. Trust me." Well, my fault for asking a god that. 'Or maybe Aya let us pass.'

'How strictly do you think Aya and I are separate, metaphysically speaking?'

Considering he'd rather retort like that than by smiting me at implicitly calling him an impotent liar, I chose not to answer. 'Where are we, Thoth? I'll even settle for a metaphor.'

'How magnanimous.' Thoth's bass voice didn't led itself to archness, but he still did a pretty god job. 'Very good, then, if you insist. The womb-skin of my mother-father.'

'...we're in the cosmic ocean?'

'I'd advise against words like "in", David. It applies location and direction, which implies space.' As he spoke, my construct fell apart, and I briefly felt a cold jolt spear through my body, before a numbness settled over my skin. It was not like the usual lack of sensation I'd gotten used to since my undeath, but...it was not uncomfortable. Not really.

'That is the draw, David. Why would it be painful? Is it not the progenitor? Did you expect an anglerfish with no lure?'

'This is Nu.' My statement wasn't panicked, but almost as numb as my skin. That didn't scare me, though. I knew it was all me. I had just passed through a crueller mirror of these waters, and only become stronger for it. 'You know I would've died, if my godsight hadn't awakened.'

'Then 'tis good we only came here after that, hmm?' Thoth's expression went from wry to stony. 'Forget what could, would, should have happened, David. I will teach you what is to come.'

'Is that why we're here?' I asked. 'Not just to demonstrate the...primacy of chaos. Because it's timeless, so we won't have any problem honing my sight alongside my mind.'

Thoth shook his head. 'You misunderstand so much, David...your "sight" is hardly different from your mind or other senses, for one; there is little I have to teach you about it, for another.'

'Seriously?' I didn't have to fake my bafflement. 'I struggle desperately against Chernobog once, send him running by sheer luck, and I know everything?'

'No one knows everything. Not in the sense you imagine. Also, David?' His kohl was swirling over the bronzed skin of his wrinkled face, which was wrinkling itself, like ink in a whirlpool. 'For someone so eager to see the empty half of the glass, you sure are quick to dismiss your own pain when it suits you.'

'I survived.' I shrugged. 'Freed myself. We're putting out fires on Earth. What more could I want? It's not like suffering entitles you to rewards.'

Thoth nodded slowly, consideringly. 'Do the most broken wretches in the world deserve all of it? Some of them, and others as well, will say that obviously they do. Do they deserve more than they have, then? An end to their suffering, at least? Your god himself teaches that treating others well will see your kindness returned, and treating others poorly will see you crushed under cruelty. Sometimes, even literally, in the end. There is something to be said there, but I will not belabour the point.' He shook his keg. 'Make wine.'

'Can't you do it yourself?' I might've sounded petulant, but damn if I could be arsed to care anymore. I've seen people acting like bigger cunts than me at my worst without going through a tenth of the shit I'd had.

'I won't make your wine, David. It's the blood of your god. That would be just...gauche.'

I had already made a wine-filled mug by the time the sound of the last word disappeared, leaving no echo behind. What did he want me to do, get closer to Jesus? Not that I was opposed to the idea, but, in the context, I couldn't see the point.

'Can you taste it?' Thoth asked after I took a sip, like he'd instructed me to. I shook my head.

'Just the sensation of it going down my throat.' I shrugged, wishing I'd been in good enough a mood to make a joke about that. 'For the best part of a decade, everything's tasted like ashes.'

'Makes you think, doesn't it?' the god closed his hands around the keg, despite the fact it was too large for that, and when he opened them, something like a bronze orrery floated above his cuped palms. 'Why are strigoi driven to eat, and drink, and rape, when they can feel none of that?'

The sphere of bronze rings spun until it glowed, then two of them detached from the rest. One of them became a miniature medieval city, while the other broke apart to become its inhabitants. A group of the tiny bronze people were paying their respects in a cemetery, when one of the graves burst open. They didn't even have time to twitch before a ragged, grey figure tore them apart, then began having its way with their remains. Some of them were still moving.

Those things were anatomically correct to a pretty disturbing and frankly needless degree. I hoped Thoth would never get into Lego. 'We get our pleasure from the act itself, not the sensation...or lack thereof. I'm sure the arseholes wish they could feel things as they did in life, but, well, tough.'

But Thoth already knew that, obviously. He had to. There was no way...no way he wasn't testing me to see what I thought about my kind, and whether I'd lie about that. But didn't he already know that, too?

'One could almost think...' he continued as more and more grey figures rose from their graves and began slaughtering their way through the city. 'It's all meant as a punishment.'

Um...'People should have enough balls and brains to put their affairs in order before they die, so they can be at peace and not bother the rest of the world. If they're unfortunate and can't...that's not an excuse to be a monster.' And here we were, back at the reward of suffering. But, if even a loser like I'd been after my undeath(that is, a bigger one than I currently was) could not go on a monstrous rampage just because, then the rest of the coffin-dodgers had no excuse.

Of course, I'd also been blessed with a father who'd made sure to remove my caul and tie red string around my ankle before my burial, but neither had been enough to prevent my return. Some strigoi lacked people willing or able to do such things, or even support networks at all, and not just because they destroyed or drove them away themselves.

'Harsh. Perhaps you'll change your stance once you meet the first strigoi...but I doubt it.' Thoth smacked his lips, then smiled thinly. 'Let us move onto chaos.'

Yaaay! What a cheerful change of subject!

Enthusiasm bolstered by my hearty clapping, Thoth rose to hs feet, holding the edge of his white, blue-trimmed cape(and when had he put that on? He'd only been wearing a loincloth an instant ago), then spun around with a flourish, making both himself and the model city disappear.

I was, not for the first time, left alone in the dark.

***

He remembered how it had all started. The first storm over what would become Scandinavia: in Midgard, and on Earth, too.

Running, flying, through the clouds, over the tides, meeting Taranis when they'd both been earning their spurs. Clashing with him, and old Perun too.

Had that been his birth, or heralded it? No...had it merely coincided with it? He didn't believe in coincidence.

Mother...

Had that been his first word? He dearly wished to remember. Maybe his mother's name, too, or at least her face. He must have one...or, at least, he must've had one at one point, to love her.

Damn it. He should have been able to remember. Maybe there was someone, someone who saw and recorded such things, willing to help him.

Father...

And even if he didn't want to...well. He'd always been an adept of, and adept at, coercion. That, he remembered, as clearly as...anything.

He was sure his father would be able to help with that, as well. And willing, too. They'd always had a good relationship. He just lacked many frames of reference for such things, at the moment.

'Look at them, son. You must learn them, and learn to love them, too, even if that love is unrequited. Learn to wield them, as sure as any weapon, when your time comes...to take my throne.'

That...had been a beautiful lie-at the time. There was never going to be a time he'd suceed his father as king(of what? Of what?), or, indeed, any time past the latter's death, but...something had changed.

That death had never come, while his had come and went. And now, he lived again- not in defiance of fate, for there were no longer such things, for those like him.

He remembered-knew-that. Why was his memory so jumbled?

They...his people, or the runes? The latter-yes, power folded into shapes that could be read and named-had never been his strength.

Strength...

That had always been his forte. Once, he had been its god.

...no.

He still was.

And now, he understood where the disorientation came from. This empty vessel, this...new body, like a dry riverbed being slowly, so slowly filled by a trickle of water, was not yet whole.

A body wrought from the World Tree's heartwood, a blazing core pumping Muspellheim's fires through it.

A yawning void where his stomach had once been. A miniature Ginnungagap? Somehow, he knew that void was meant to remain, not be filled.

And...a mind like a steel trap, slow as it was at the moment; not that it had ever been as quick-or sharp-as the one in front of him.

' Loki...'

Thor hadn't planned for the fire giant's name to be the first word of his...second life. He didn't want it to be the first, either.

Loki's tight-lipped expression relaxed slightly, eyes twinkling as a smile began making its way across his face. 'Y-?'

The trench pulverised through the ground by the trickster's body was over five hundred kilometres long and wide, and almost a tenth as deep. As he watched his father's sworn brother fly through a mountain range, turning a landmark as large as the trench to dust, Thor drew the finger he had flicked him with back.

Dammit. He was still weaker than he was used to. Couldn't feel anything he touched, either...but maybe that was to be expected. Unique and powerful as Yggdrassil was, it was still a tree. What need did it have for a sense of touch?

Thor rose from...it was a mould, wasn't it? They'd taken the reforging literally.

Could have been worse, he mused, right hand wrapped around something long but slim, propping himself on it until he stood on unfeeling feet. At least he hadn't woken up in a flower pot.

Wishing away the mental image of the Norns, faces as blandly grim as always, taking turns to water him, Thor looked down at the thing in his hand. He might've lost his sense of touch-not his touch, though. He could feel it slowly but surely coming back-, but he could still guess the shape of objects, it seemed, through a combination of instinct and his other senses.

Mjolnir finally had the haft it had always been meant to have, but it hardly felt different in his grip. The weight was...reassuring.

Which Yggdrassil didn't have need of, either, come to think of it. Except for, arguably, his arcane sense. And yet, they had not been lost. Why?

Loki was back on his feet, and standing in front of Thor, before he could shout after him. The thunder god could see photons in the trickster's wake, almost frozen as they floated. Luckily, his eyes did not need light, whether made of photons or mana, to see.

He'd gotten used to Loki's speed over the ages, anyway. Only attribute in which the jotunn had ever really matched him.

'What was that for?' Loki's hiss perfectly matched his expression of feline displeasure, in Thor's opinion. Although...

'Why'd you eat another jackal's arse? Didn't we tell you not to?' Thor tugged the giant's red, long beard, which shifted into a goatee after an indignant yelp.

'The goats were saving themselves for you,' Loki said with a condescending smile, lip curling. 'Don't you want to visit them and make up for lost time? It's been so long...'

And stop slapping you around? 'My family first,' the levity left Thor's voice, though he hoped his expression was not as wooden as it felt.

Well. Besides literally.

Loki's smile became a sneer. 'Of course! Who cares that I dragged you back into life's embrace? Go back to them, apologies for keeping you.' Loki looked aside. 'You don't even consider me family...'

'Would you stop whining?'

A throat being cleared drew their attention.

'Would the lords mind fighting outside?' Sindi gestured at the former northern wall of his forge. 'Since they have already started...'

Thor's temper flared, the flames within him responding. 'You have forgotten respect, dwarf.'

'What is this mockery of servility? You have been aping mankind for too long,' Loki joined in. Choler rising, he turned back to the Aesir. 'What'd you flick me for!?'

'Did it hurt that much?' Thor's lazy grin oozed false pity.

Loki didn't dignify that with an answer. He had barely felt it-his screams alone could shake Earth from core to surface, stronger than any earthquake in its history-but the action itself had been demeaning. Not even a real strike! 'Was it for the new body?' His sharp blue eyes softened. 'Or for failing to foresee Chernobog?'

Both, damn you.

Loki held Thor's stare, then dismissively gestured at the forge's wall. Time rewound, dust flowing back into place and solidifying into metal. His imperious gaze swept across Sindri and the dark elves standing or cowering behind him, and noticed three frowning faces. Perhaps coincidentally, none of them belonged to an elf.

' 'tis not such a shame if you don't thank Loki,' the ispolin's voice was like an avalanche. 'He only did a quarter of the work.'

'You're welcome,' prince Marko grumbled, pushing his hat back up his head. His face had been stained with soot until it was almost as black as his beard, and his green trousers and white shirt were singed. Only the red, fur-lined great hat was still intact. Loki wondered if it was because he always paid attention to it, or out of sheer luck.

'Let's not fight over that,' Prâslea, also soon-stained, tried to shake some ash out of his once-blond hair, which was now as grey as his shirt and breeches. 'We're all friends here.'

No one missed the factthat his hands never left his pouch-lined belt. Least of all Marko, whose eyes soon darted from it. 'Doesn't your land have a saying about thieves being the most scared of robbery.'

'Many countries have sayings about stealing.'

'Few have it as a national sport, though.'

Prâslea scowled, unslinging his bow.

'Oh, put that aside,' Marko waved a hand. 'What're you planning to do at this range, shoot me in the cock?'

'I prefer large targets,' he nocked an arrow. 'So keep talking. How quickly you forget that we toiled together!'

'I forget!?'

'What does my country have to do with...' Prâslea shook his head.

'What discord!' Sounding shocked, the ispolin stepped between them, forcing them to part lest they end up under his rocky feet. The two heroes found themselves glaring into its ankles, as the giant moved slightly whenever they did, until, with an annoyed oath, Marko rose in height. On Earth, his head would have reached the clouds, but he didn't even come close to scraping the forge's ceiling.

Prâslea laughed. 'Fooling yourself into thinking you stand a chance? Not even I am cunning enough for that!'

The ispolin's head swiveled, disapproving stare moving between the two, just as Sindrri ground out that they better not start fighting too, or he'd throw everyone out.

'I was leaving, anyway,' Prâslea put his bow back, then ran a hand over his face, through his hair. 'I want to see my wife.'

'Hiding behind her skirts?' Marko taunted, returning to his former height.

'Not my fault your horse has none.' He flashed the ispolin a sad look. 'I'm sorry, cousin giant. Whatever he told, you were playing second fiddle to Šarac.' He shook his head. 'That man would do anything to preserve his bad taste, even make love to beasts!'

***

Maws shook his head with a grin that was soon replicated: tenfold, then ten thousandfold, as he returned to his normal shape and size.

So, his youngest had some fight in him, too...bah. They all did, or so it looked. Even the middle one, the painter, had been a killer once. He wondered what had driven him away.

Almost wished he had been there for them, but that must have been his curiosity talking. It wasn't like they were going to fight to the death. Maws couldn't be killed, always being just strong, quick and tough enough to meet his opponent on equal footing, while trusting his natural immunity to esoterics to handle the rest.

He'd been holding on to that for as long as he could remember. Hadn't let his guard down in long, long eons, knowing full well creation was full of weak little shits who couldn't throw a punch to save their lives, but had enough cheap tricks to overcome a metaphysically defenceless being, no matter how big or resilient.

As for the hatchling...well, it wasn't like Maws wanted to kill the boy. He felt nothing for him except the indifference zmei treated their spawn with. He hadn't been annoyed by or contracted to kill him. Honestly, he'd been curious enough about this whole thing to come pass on some fatherly advice.

As if he had any. Arnold, the oldest one, must've had an opinion of him that was almost as inflated as it was distorted. He would've been almost flattered, if he could've mustered enough to care about his sons.

Lucian came flying out of the barracks at lightspeed, space and time bending around him. As the brat wound up to talk, Maws idly counted the zeptoseconds. In the intervals between them, he wondered whether Lucian would be practical enough to use the aether, or whether he'd speak conventionally-pure torture for anyone even slightly faster than sound, though most learned to wait out the small eternities that communicating like this took.

Himself included. Not out of pleasure, or a desire to test his patience-he had his wife for both-, but, rather, because some clients lacked other means to articulate themselves. Not wanting to be known as even more of an impatient asshat, he'd learned to bear it.

In a zeptosecond, Maws could move almost a metre. Impressive, certainly, but it would have essentially been a slow walk even at human size. Dwarfing most planets as he did, it was negligible. Certainly not helpful against faster beings(thankfully, the lightspeed brat was trillions of times slower than him), especially small, manoeuvreable ones...or, rather, it wouldn't have been enough if not for his power always rising to the challenge, alongside his sorcery. More things could happen in a sextillionth of a second than you'd expect.

It was almost saddening to see how little his spawn, and zmei in general, used magic. Looking at them, you'd have thought it started and ended with shifting your shape and those of others...

No time to get lost in disappointment. Getting worked up over things you'd never want to do was almost as pointless as being worried about things you couldn't affect.

'You just had to say that,' oh, good, aetheric speech. 'Didn't you?'

'It led to a fight, didn't it?' Maws flexed an arm, laughing.

Lucian's face soured. 'You're serious, aren't you? You're everything they say about us.'

Maws let the arm fell by his side, smiles fading. 'Who, the humans?'

'They. The other supernaturals. The aliens. Everyone else.' Luci shook his head. 'You're a giant, blustering moron, who thinks "tact" only exists if preceeded by "in", when used to talk about things you haven't gotten your paws on yet.'

Ah, this was going to be great! 'And you're any different!? From what I know, you eat and drink and fuck and fight, for either wealth or pleasure. As all our kind does! So what sets us apart?'

His spawn looked like he wanted to spit, but finally decided against it. 'Andrei was right...' before Maws could ask who he was thinking about out loud, Lucian continued. 'And you think that's a full life, don't you? The basic needs fulfilled, what zmeu gives a flying fuck about being seen as a brutish freak?

...Maws began to think the boy didn't actually want to fight him. 'You say I'm so stupid, but forget I married your mother. How many other zmei do you know who tie the knot at all, let alone remain married?'

'And do you know why there are none?' Lucian flew up to the head with the golden beard, landing on his father's face, between his green eyes. 'Do you know what our life's been like on Earth?'

Peering at his son, Maws descended to the ground, before sitting down, six arms crossed, tails wrapping around his legs.

Lucian's smile at the resulting silence was ugly, and his voice deceptively calm. Its softness, at least, betrayed his mood. 'Do you know what's it like for everyone around you to see you as a molester and rapist in waiting? People still get twitchy if they see me approaching children on the street. Do you know what it's like to be taken away and modified until you can no longer want anything, not because of something you've done, but something you might? All while you're too weak to resist?' He slapped his forehead. 'Oh, silly me. I forgot you're never weak.'

Maws frowned. 'Have you also forgotten what I told you?'

'So some zmei wanted you to to lead because you were the strongest, and thought they could use you as a patsy.' Lucian grimaced. ' Please don't start talking about how it's the burden of the strong to be thought of as stupid by those weaker than themselves. I know what it's like, and, in my experience, it's pretty overrated.'

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

'I wasn't about to say anything like that,' Maws replied. 'So zmei had it pretty rough on Earth. So-'

' "So what? It's not like we weren't tough enough to take it, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Besides, didn't other supernaturals have it worse? Don't some still have it worse?" ' Lucian smoothed his expression, letting go of the exaggerated frown and overly deep voice. 'Did you actually meet any reeducated zmei when you were fucking up around here?' he gestured at the surrounding country.

Maws snorted dismissively. 'If you hadn't started talking over me just to spout shitty whataboutisms I wouldn't have even thought about, maybe I'd have been able to finish.' He showed his fangs. 'To answer your little question, no, I don't meet with anyone when I'm in zmeu country, unless your mother happens to be around. Why should I? You talk about the past? Who made those zmei stay on Earth, instead of retreating here? Their own stupidity?'

Lucian snarled, but Maws continued speaking, undeterred. 'I'm sure some of the hatchlings who willingly walked into the trap cried about savaged legs after. Bad for them!' He threw up his hands. 'But what was I supposed to do?'

'You could've stayed,' Lucian said softly. 'You didn't have to be king zmeu of shit mountain. I wouldn't have given a damn if I never met you; Aaron is more of a father to me than you'll ever be. But you could've stayed, and led by example.'

'Oh, please. Why? What duty do I have to zmeu kind? We're the same species-so? Have you seen what humans do to each other, when they don't just pretend their neighbours don't exist? And they're less fractious than we'll ever be. They lack our impulses!'

'Weren't you just talking about how you defied norms by marrying and staying married?'

Maws crossed his arms. 'And what prevents others from doing the same?' Besides a lack of willpower, obviously.

'Maybe, if you ever took the time to glance at Earth, you'd see most zmei are seen as cheaters and homewreckers at best, and the bias goes both ways. I've seen zmei-younger ones, not ones who grew up looking over their shoulders during the Long Watch-who've only ever heard and been told, directly or indirectly, that they're more or less worthless perverts. Why would they even try to get hitched?'

A low chuckle built up in Maws' chest. As if it was his fault the others were stupid. 'If you're so damn worried about our perception, why don't you try to change anything?'

'You think I haven't?' Lucian retorted, tapping Burnished Death's head into one palm. 'What do you call avoiding trouble for decades? Or becoming known as someone you hire to defend yourself from the kind of people zmei are expected to act like? I've done as much to salvage the way we're perceived as I can. Easily as much as Lucas; more, arguably. Maybe not as much as Aaron, but...we've always had different temperaments.' Lucian looked away with a brooding expression. By the time he looked back at Maws, the grim look had been replaced by resolve. 'More than you, anyway. But then, any number's bigger than zero, right?'

'You might've noticed I care as much about the rest of our species as I do about the three of you. Since we're speaking of nothing...' he spread his arms. 'If I've ignored Earth, trust me, it's not out of spite. Just...disinterest. It's not even the coercion attempts, or the shit they tried to foist onto me-most of the bastards involved are dead, anyway. I...just...don't...want to.'

Maws laughed at the look his son gave him. Each time he had spoken, an Earth-sized section of soil had violently shattered, so that he was now sitting in a crater deeper than most stars were wide. His laugh pulverised another planet's worth of ground.

'Besides!' he was still laughing. 'What made them go to that country? Again I ask. So a few zmei visited a while back and liked it enough to stay or return. That's no obligation. It's not like we're bound to that planet, much less any of its nations. Oh, I'm sure some were already there when things got bad and didn't manage or couldn't afford to leave...but the rest? Those who went after that? It's all on them.'

'You can say that even while feeling the urge to go to Romania tugging at you?' Lucian's tone was disbelieving. 'I shouldn't have to tell you, of all people, that some supernaturals are drawn to certain places.'

Oh? The weak will again? 'Maybe there's a zmeu living in another country despite that. Maybe they can lead by examp-'

The mental shock almost dazed Maws. It certainly affected him more than the physical one: shattered scales and cracked skulls were not even worth mentioning when it came to damage.

Still, as the zmeu flew, his body turning the ground to plasma for millions of kilometres in all directions, he couldn't help but wonder: how had he been damaged in the first place? His son wasn't that strong.

As he flew through the plasma sea at speeds that made light look like a dying snail, Maws idly reoriented himself. Half a zeptosecon later, he was flying, then hovering tens of thousands of kilometres over the ground of zmeu country-practically right next to it, at his size.

His son hadn't grown larger; he hadn't cast a spell or drawn on mana. He hadn't even hit him with that damned mace. So what...

...ah. Was he that creative?

'What're you so mad about?!' Maws jeered, fully aware of the answer. It wasn't the bullshit about zmeu solidarity or being a role model. Not that Maws doubted those frustrations weren't genuine, but they were just sideshows. Something his spawn had brought up to keep himself angry, or just because he could.

'You don't know a fucking thing about what you're saying,' Lucian pointed Burnished Death at him, its spikes glinting dully. 'And you don't even want to change your mind.'

Void, he was still going on about that? 'Fine! Do you want to learn another reason I fucking hate that country?' At his son's hesitant nod, he continued. 'Have you heard the story of Brother and Not-Brother?' Or was it Un-Brother? Tch. Either way, the boy'd know what he meant.

'Isn't that just the Romanian spin on Genesis?' Lucian asked, sounding bemused.

Maws shrugged. 'Spin? I suppose you could say that. Except in this one, God and the Devil are portrayed as equals: in role, if not in power. Hence the names. Anyway...I remember sleeping under the waters, then being awoken by a voice. The light it brought never has never let me sleep since. And then I go to that country, hear everyone sharing the story and peaying to the culprit, and you really expect me to stay?'

Lucian's face fell. Shorthly after, he snarled angrily, mouth open. 'That's bullshit! You can't claim you remember the first light, then go on to talk about Brother and Un-Brother! In that version, they make the world from fucking clay! There's no light mentioned.'

'I know what happened,' Maws said calmly. 'And your stroppy little tirade won't change bad memories.' Now that was over...he had a question of his own. 'How'd you punch me that hard? For that matter, how'd you survive this discussion? You're not protected by anything.'

Lucian smirked smugly. 'You think Burnished Death can't destroy the difference in durability between the two of us? I simply finished the process, and closed the gap in strength and speed too.'

Hmph. 'I suppose, when you're weak, that you make the best use of your tools.'

Lucian rolled his eyes. 'Because that bargain you struck is all about natural power, right? Who'd you make it with, anyway? Your fucking Escher painting of a fleshlight? Was it getting tired of having to put you back together every time you played hide the zucchini?'

Maws bristled. 'Watch your mouth. That's your mother-'

'Fuck off.' There was no heat in Lucian's voice. 'You don't get to piss on what Bianca and I have, then turn around and demand respect for your glorified cumdump. Oh, it waits for you? How sweet. I guess it's easy when it has less of a personality than you, and all the desires of a wet brick. Just buy a blowup doll, old man.'

'If not for her,' Maws' voice lowered. 'You'd never have been born, you ungrateful little bastard.'

'And you know the only thing I'd regret? Not saving Bianca. Did you even know about that?' The younger zmeu's chin was covered in boiling, steaming saliva as he grit his fangs. Flames seemed sure to follow. 'Did you? I saved her goddamn life, you mouthy son of a bitch. She was a fucking slave when we met. I helped her think again, and gave her someone she could turn to besides her sisters. She made me realise I was destroying myself,' he closed his eyes. 'And made me happy. Still does. Happier than your fugly eldritch booty call would make you if you could even feel true joy, you stupid animal.'

Maws couldn't remember ever feeling this angry in his life.

Something told him Lucian had never come close, either.

'Stop calling your mother "it",' he said, trying to reign in his temper. 'Stop-'

'Blow me.' Lucian slung his mace back and forth. 'Now, I ain't gonna claim my life is some true love story shit, but Bianca and I? We're people.' He laughed drily. 'You two...a goddamn carricature met a freak, and popped out three kids. No wonder you're our parents-where the hell else could jokes like Lucas and I come from? Aaron's the odd one out, but...I'm done embarrassing him.'

***

Lucas froze at his brother's odd tone.

Done embarrassing Aari? He couldn't have been preparing to die fighting Maws just because he was pissed. He couldn't be that stupid!

Lucas rose out of the damaged barracks, looking at the two warily. He'd been content-that was, on edge, but trusting Luci to handle this father-son bonding...cockfighting...crap-to watch from afar, but things had gone south.

Dammit, Aaron. What had his brother even expected to happen? Maws calming Lucian down and convincing him to stay put? Maybe with a side dish of praise for his relationship?

Fuck it, he though, lighting a cigar. He shouldn't have agreed, much less let himself be persuaded to call their mom too. Fuck him and his naïvety, and fuck Aaron's plan to keep it all in the family. They should've gone to Luci's friends, or called them there.

'Offspring-shard,' his mother's grating voice made his left hand turn slightly to glance behind himself. She still looked like an amalgam of impossible shapes, but the impression of a zmeu was gone, leaving only a vaguely female outline of light. It reminded Lucas of those dumpy mother goddess statues, except those didn't make him want to tear his eyes out.

Or, when they did, it was for different reasons.

'This one does not have experience dealing with progenitor-offspring interactions, nor performing them, itself.' She seemed pensive. 'Can you stop them?'

Lucas ashed half his blunt when he scoffed. 'That's the plan, lady.'

'This one thinks its mate-counterpart offended the youngest offspring-shard through his opinion of bonds. Perhaps you could share yours to reassure your sibling-mirror?'

Geeze...

Lucas finished his cigar, taking out another one. 'Never had any-bond, or opinion on them.' His libido had been annoying enough that, after asking the Mother of the Forest to remove it, he hadn't wanted to dabble in purely romantic relationships. 'So you're shit outta luck, mom.'

Her form wavered. '...this one senses...hostility. No intent to harm, but...you do not want this one here either, do you, offspring-shard?'

No wonder Luci was so ticked off. 'No shit, dumbass,' he barked, body heating up enough both his cigars and his clothes evaporated. 'Now fuck off. I don't care if you go home or not, but don't try to step in. I'm going to help my brother.'

With a thought, Three Moons Falling appeared in his right hand, as natural as clasping his hands. As he slung two hundred forty-three quintillion tons over his shoulder, Lucas noticed-rather than the morningstar, which felt weightless in his grip-that he was feeling poetic.

For example, he thought that, with the weapon in his hand, he felt neither naked nor exposed.

That was a bad sign. Because, as much as Lucian liked to call him a starch arse...his little brother had never exactly loved Lucas during his previous career, either.

***

Lucian was fighting, truly fighting, for the first time in his life.

This wasn't like a match, or bodyguard work. It wasn't a brawl or a spar. He'd been through plenty of those.

He wanted to kill his father. He hated him.

That was new, in a way, too. Lucian had often wanted to kill his opponents: because they'd annoyed him too much, or simply due to his instincts flaring when his blood was hot. This wasn't like those times.

Lucian had an inkling this was how Aaron felt when he wanted to help, but ended up pissing his older brother off by blundering into situations. Except that, for once, the roles were reversed.

What had Aaron thought would happen? Seriously...

Maws didn't fight like he'd expected. Maybe he needed to be outmatched in order to jump in power?

Well. He could help him with that.

Lucian backflipped as his father flew at him from his blindspot, watching the older zmeu briefly dash past him fast enough to cross the Milky Way in a second. At the last moment, he brought Burnished Death down on one of his tails, shattering it and his spine.

Maws briefly swayed to the side, before righting himself with an irritated motion. His heads twisted backwards, glaring even as their necks snapped and healed, followed by his torso.

His next dash was almost to fast to sense, and far too fast to dodge.

Then, Lucian destroyed the speed gap between them once again, and sent his father flying upwards, chest shattered, with a swing.

'If you think hurting me will help you,' Maws roared. 'You're more stupid than I thought! You could've been looking for the iela all this time, but you're too busy nursing your pride!'

'Don't talk about her after what you said!' Lucian roared back. 'Aaron told me not to go! I know he'll-'

'Bitch!' Maws guffawed. 'Listen to big brother, eh? Without me, none of you would be alive! Why respect him, but hate me? What'd he do that I haven't?'

'He was there for me.'

Maws briefly looked surprised at his son's response, then laughed, begining to draw mana into his metaphysical grasp. 'She's dead, boy! If you loved her half as much as you pretend to, you'd be looking for her! Whoever took her, I bet they've killed her by now.' he leered. 'Or wor-'

The next hit sent him rocketing downwards. It hadn't been Lucian's.

Lucas nose slits flared as he looked down into the crater his father's body had made. The ground had been vapourised, but that didn't stop the zmeu from noticing Maws' rainbow-coloured body: an almost invisible dot at the bottom of the smoking pit, which was countless thousand times wider than him, and many thousand times as deep as he was tall.

'Nice swing, Luc.'

Lucas accepted his brother's appreciative nod with a curt one of his own. 'Had to draw on the power of everyone I've ever hit...don't think I've ever smacked anyone that hard.'

'Doubt you've ever met anyone this insufferable.'

'No need to doubt, Luci.'

Maws laugh dispersed the smoke. 'What brotherly love!' The zmeu casually jumped out of the crater to hover in front of his sons, unharmed. 'Found your balls, painter?'

'I know why you're here,' Lucas said softly by way of reply.

Maws' smile dimmed. 'The void you mean? I'm-'

'Aari and I have often told Luci about the difficulties of his relationship with Bianca, but he's never let that stop him. He thinks we're biased.' Lucas elbowed his younger brother, who offered a small, dry grin. 'Because I'm a joyless fuck and Aaron's a workaholic. But you? You're an outsider, and a zmeu. Family to boot. Someone he knows understands, but not close enough for him to have an opinion about.'

Maws was now scowling. 'Your brother never said-'

'He didn't need to,' Lucas cut him off. 'And needing him to tell you makes you almost as stupid as not realising he played you.'

As he spoke, Maws felt power flow into him. 'I needed a strigoi's healing to make my way through your voice,' Lucas said. 'But now, I have your tricks. Not so special anymore, are you?'

'I dunno, Luc,' Lucian smiled. 'Still think dad's plenty special.'

While two pairs of eyes concentrated on them, Maws' others tracked the horizon. 'Where's your mother? What'd you do to her?'

If Lucas felt anything at the anger in his father's voice, he didn't let it show. 'Told her to stand back, and let us resolve this.'

Maws glared venomously at Lucas, then turned to his youngest son. 'You're an idiot. A spineless lapdog, all because your brother went against his instincts and didn't leave you to die. There'll be a day when you and your bitch will want someone else,' he smiled condescendingly. 'And then you'll wake up to what a sham your love is. What relationship is that, if someone isn't always there for the other?'

'Watch your-'

'Shut your goddamn mouth, Lucas,' Lucian snapped, making his brother look at him in shock. 'He's right.'

Now all of Lucas' heads turned to Lucian, though he kept half his eyes on his victoriously-grinning father.

'Bianca can't always be there for me,' he said calmly. 'Because she's a iela. But that's alright. I don't want to change her. Someone already tried. She doesn't deserve that again. But I-'

Cursing, Lucas drew upon another power from his mace.

***

Lucian glanced around the empty pocket reality. There was no matter, no energy, no space. No time, either-he suspected Lucas had chosen it for the eternity they could spend here talking, rather than whatever aesthetic appeal its blandness posessed.

He didn't know. He wasn't an artist. But he knew what he had to do, and that was enough.

'Luci, don't,' Lucas' hands were gripping his shoulders, forcing him to look up into his brother's blue eyes. They didn't seem so cold anymore. 'She wouldn't want this. You think she'll approve once Aari brings her back? You think she'll thank you?'

'You think she's still the same?'

Lucas almost reeled back. He'd never seen his brother look or sound so...subdued. 'If she's not still the same, then why would you...?'

'I didn't say what I love about Bianca has changed.' Lucian gently but firmly gripped his brother's forearms, before pulling his hands away. 'I said she's changed. And if she won't love me anymore...' he forced himself to smile. 'I can live with that. I'll still love her.'

Lucas wanted to roar, to scream, to beat his brother down until he saw sense. But he knew that'd fail; Maws already had. 'Luci, please-'

'I lost Bianca because I wasn't there for her.' Lucian wiped his brother's tears away, still smiling as he tried to ugnore his own. 'And I wasn't there for her because of my lust. Lust for some girl who'll never matter to me a thousandth of how much she does.'

'That's not true! She hired a different bodyguard because she knew you were busy, you didn't run when she needed you!'

'Busy.' Lucian chuckled. 'Busy with fucking, maybe. Too busy to put that aside and check on her, just in case. Andrei didn't, either, but...at least he has a real life. I never did grow up, Lucas,' he said wistfully. 'Always thought you were a fool for what you did. Stunting yourself, I called it. Should've done it, too. Maybe then, we wouldn't be here.'

The green zmeu lifted Burnished Death, lowering his esoteric resistance, and began destroying, one by one, the things that had prevented him from being there for Bianca. Lucas was sent flying after trying to stop him, body shattered. He still sent pleas to his brother through the aether as he slowly pulled himself together, trying to stop him.

Lucian didn't.

'I'll never let her be hurt again,' he promised. 'Stolen again. By her sisters, all of creation, or how much of a failure I am. And, Luc?' Lucian whispered as he began destroying the boundary between himself and Burnished Death. 'If I'm no longer myself after this...please tell the others I love them,' his voice cracked. 'And that I'm sorry.'

And, though he had no mouth, Lucas wanted to scream.

***

'Did you, or didn't you?'

Iele couldn't be strangled to death: air was meaningless to them. They could, however, be mutilated, and a snapped neck sent a rather strong message.

'Do you see,' Bianca's sister whispered, head haloed by black hair, like someone had spilled the darkest of blood on the snow. 'What the world has done to you? You'd have never thought of such things before your mind was poisoned, sister.'

Bianca slammed her head into the snow with a sneer, and the frozen ground for metres around was pulverised. The iele landed in a crater deeper than either of them were tall, and several times wider. Unharmed, Bianca's sister gave her a look full of condescending affection.

'Don't start again,' Bianca's voice was colder than she'd intended to. Was she so broken she couldn't even be angry anymore.

Heh...figures. Little orphan Bia, with the murdered parents. Always the weakest, always unable to help-too busy needing to be rescued.

Heavens...when had any of her friends needed to be saved? David, years ago...and in the end, Luci had done it, while she'd been as worthless as always.

How pathetic was it that she was waiting for him, even now? That she was thinking of how she should've asked him to stay with her, instead of hiring that bastard?

Selfish as it was...she couldn't even feel guilty for it. Maybe the cold was seeping into her? Her face definitely felt more gaunt, her hair more brittle.

She'd make it up to Luci, somehow. Even if she couldn't tell what he loved about such living deadweight.

'Did you? Tell me, so I know whether to kill you,' her glare intensified as her sister raised an eyebrow, but, strangely, she couldn't feel any actual anger. 'Or leave it to David.'

'The strigoi,' her sister scoffed to the titters of the others. She could feel them, dozens and thousands and hundreds of thousands, encircling them, waiting at the edge of the blizzard. 'Won't do anything, little Sunbeam-in-cloudy-skies. He is... becoming, a dutiful creature.'

'Good thing I'm selfish.'

Her sisters laughed musically at her words. 'You are not, sister. You cannot be, anymore.'

The iela didn't stop smiling, even when Bianca's fist broke her jaw. 'You gripped your anger so hard your hands became numb. Let it consume you, until you couldn't perceive all of it anymore. Why would you notice when it disappeared?'

'What'd you do to me?' The lack of fear and disgust would have startled her, or rather, the Bianca before.

'Removed certain... weaknesses, sister.' The iele spoke in unison, voices softening. 'We know how aimless you felt after the humans took your mother. Then you went to their world, and were twisted even more. We are simply...restoring you.'

Bianca stood up. She hadn't noticed-her body was almost as numb as her mind-but the filth at her feet wasn't simply a decomposing animal, as she'd thought.

Bianca would have been horrified at crushing her mother's remains, and not even noticing, in other circumstances.

Maybe her sisters would now seek revenge on her. 'Did you? Answer that, at least. Give me something, after everything you took.'

Her sister rose to float above the pasted corpse. 'Do you think we would deal with the monster of monsters, cross the gods and lure the Dagda into a poisoned trap, out of hatred?'

'Yes,' Bianca answered. 'I have asked you three time. There will not be a fourth.'

'Yes, sister. We agreed to the bargain, all to spite David Silva. We knew the Dagda's bleeding heart would keep him in place enough for his mind to be bent. We knew the consequences would up-end creation...' a breath, like a thousand mirrors cracking, in the frozen air. 'And we knew what torment it would bring the strigoi.'

'All of this,' Bianca wished she could be dismayed. 'For a tree?'

A thousand thousand frowns, doll-like masks twisting into disappointment. 'Do not think us petty, sister.'

'Hatred, then?'

'Yes,' the iele lied. 'We did everything out of hatred. Because the world took you from us, and changed you, until you were willing to call us to heel, like dogs, just to help your strigoi. Even though you wouldn't have lifted a finger to help one of us if she was dying.' At Bianca's silence, they continued. 'It wasn't just David Silva, sister. It was what he represented: a world that has never wanted you, that only took, and hurt, and demanded.'

Finally, Bianca cracked a smile, like a fissure in a frozen lake's surface. It was as human as any of her sisters'. 'You've always been a frigid bitch, Eclipse-on-a-cloudless-night.'

The dark-haired iela beamed. 'This is the first time you said my name, sister!'

Bianca's smile widened, until it was as broad as her sister's, though nowhere near as sincere. 'It will not be the last!'

***

Aaron counted as he made his way through the iele's realm.

Heartbeats. Footsteps. His, and his companions'. Wisps of dust in the sky.

It helped him stay sane, or at least calm.

The paths needed to pass through undetected had been convoluted enough that he'd wondered if the Mother of the Forest had just been fucking with him, but...the woman had been more serious than he'd ever remembered her being. She still was.

"Business to take care of after this," she'd said cryptically. Aaron had been surprised to see her with the Supernatural Service, though not unpleasantly so. The old bat was always useful, even if best observed from afar.

Up close, she was far harder to get along with, especially when she'd insisted that he turn human. Aaron's human form was neither ugly nor stunted-he cared far more about the second-but it felt unnaturally small and restricting. Still, the realm would have spotted a zmeu, according to the Mother.

As they approached the objective, Aaron returned to his true form, turning the snow to vapour with a wave of radiated heat, for as far as he could see. The snow being almost two metres deep, there was a lot of steam, though, thankfully, nothing he couldn't see through.

The Service agents trailed behind. A couple vampires, a baker's dozen of mages, and...

...Lucian had never mentioned Bianca looking this cold, literally or metaphorically. Aaron had met her many times, and approved of his brother being with a woman who made him as happy as he made her. One who'd never hurt him. She'd always been so full of life and warmth...

What had happened?

'Stand down,' he ordered the iele, Brazen Mantle sliding over his scales. 'Bianca? It's Aaron, with the Service. We're here to take you home.'

The silver-haired iela smiled sadly at him.

***

Andrei was going to die.

That was nothing new. He'd always know he would die someday. Ageless or not, regeneration or not, he had enough enemies.

But knowing something was going to happen didn't make the experience itself less painful, much less pleasant. As most precognitives he'd killed could attest.

The werebear knew the difference between surviving to fight another day, stalling for time, and drawing out death.

This felt closer to the third than the second. He had no real plan, after all. The fleshmaking device was just a temporary measure, even if he'd improvised with it.

Misha was a sadistic bastard: creative, but dumb. Andrei knew the type. He'd fought against, alongside and for the like. He had a hunch his father had, too.

Had a hunch Misha never learned from his mistakes, too. Or at all.

Case in point: the silver knife, with no backup? Sure, the shards had cut up his throat and muzzle, slicing through his eyes and ears to nestle deep into his flesh, but then he'd tore them out, smashed them into uselesness.

The fleshmaker had then filled the wounds, before covering them with a layer of new flesh. Now, Misha had no weapon, no plan, and no chance.

Andrei was dying. He'd never felt more alive.

He grabbed his father with shredded, blood-caked hands, lifting him up with shaking, trembling arms. His fur was almost black over sickly, purple and green borrowed flesh.

And his eyeless face was smiling.

'Who sent you?' Andrei asked serenely. His bear, too tired and wounded at this point, had settled down to wait out the end. 'Please. It's the only thing I'll ever ask for.'

Misha tried to escape, but fear never helped a ghost. His ectoplasm, much like his resolve, was wavering. 'No one!' his voice hitched. 'There was this...t-thing, killing everyone else. In the aether. I ran! I don't know if it l-let me, but...' he gulped. 'I had to make things right. I had to.'

Tears ran from his empty sockets. 'Damn it, boy...why couldn't you be born like me?'

Andrei had no response to that. It deserved none. 'The knife?'

'Found it! F-Found it! I swear!'

'What,' Andrei could have laughed if his throat hadn't been full of his own blood. 'On the street?'

Misha nodded frantically. 'I didn't work with anyone, I promise...'

He talked like that was going to redeem him, somehow. 'Tell the Devil that,' Andrei didn't have to try in order to grin hideously. 'After we meet...in Hell.'

Andrei doubted he was going to Hell, unless he was more Christian than he knew. But it was the intention that mattered.

'This is for my mother,' Andrei snarled into Misha's terrified face, as the last of the flesh rotted and fell. 'And my son.'

And he bit down.

***

Thor watched the bickering foreigners depart thoughtfully, stroking his beard. Growing out of his wooden body, it was, naturally(pun not fully intended), made of leaves, much as his hair. At least they were red.

The Aesir turned to Loki, tossing Mjolnir from one hand to another. The giant had returned to his default height-a handful of kilometres, so that even his waist was hundreds of metres above the clouds, Loki being a league tall-and, at his suggestion(strong suggestion...urging), so had Thor.

His new default height. He hadn't been a giant before, except by mortal standards, but now, he was over ten times his former height, and broad to match. Tall as an oak, indeed; Mjolnir had grown too.

'We must return to Asgard,' Thor said, nodding to Sindri before turning back to Loki. 'Unless there is something else?'

'There is,' there was a vicious amusement in the jotunn's tone Thor didn't like. 'Just...wait a moment.'

'Loki...' Thor glared up at the ash-grey, crimson-eyed face warningly. 'You didn't do anything to Tyr's shade, did you?'

'Odin is still working on that. You didn't think he'd let Surtr's remains fall through Ginnungagap forever, did you?'

The trickster's voice was airy rather than dismissive. It did nothing to reassure Thor. 'Did you hatch some scatterbrained scheme to get revenge on David Silva? He was possessed!'

'He killed my children,' Loki snapped. 'But he's suffered enough that, frankly, it's been more satisfying to watch. And far less straining, of course.'

Thor noticed Loki had neither confirmed nor denied planning anything. 'Then...?'

The trickster didn't answer. Smiling enigmatically, he simply opened a portal in front of Thor.

The universe he found himself in was an endless stretch of grey material: denser than lead, more durable than yamadium.

To say the impact would have vapourised every planet in the Sol system would have been an understatement. Rather, it would have been more accurate to compare it with their combined mass moving at lightspeed.

Thor leapt out of the star-sized crater with a glare, dented forehead healing immediately as he covered tens of millions of kilometres in seconds.

Ares matched the glare with a bloodshot one of his own. The Olympian seemed torn between snarling in anger and grinning in savage joy at fighting a peer. The resulting grimace was as confused and hideous as one could expect from Ares, though it was, thankfully, hidden away when his faceplate slid over his features.

'Mars broke in half as easily as my spine when facing real opponents, you say?' Ares brandished his spear, which, despite his adamantine, fully-enclosing warplate replacing his older, hoplite-like armour, was still an ugly, brazen thing.

Thor groaned. 'By all that is, Ares-'

'Quiet!' The Olympian barked. 'I hear all thoughts born in violence, so don't try to say you didn't mean it!'

'Why search me out now!?'

'I was looking for Mimir's head then,' Ares answered tersely.

Thor wished he had real eyes, rather than grey gemstones. They rolled poorly. 'Aye, up Aphrodite's cunt, maybe-'

The uppercut's shockwave pulverised a crater the size of Sirius. The strike itself, far more powerful, actually cracked Thor's jaw, sending him careening upwards, through planets that were utterly obliterated by his passage. Odin knew how they hadn't been destroyed by the infinite gravity of the grey plain below-he and Ares were exempt from such forces unless they chose not to be-, but one of them, as large as Earth, but made of a strange purple metal harder than tungsten, was turned to scattered atoms when his body passed through it.

Ares followed, four hundred eighty times as fast as light-as fast as Thor. They ripped the cores out of planets, each as heavy as Earth's, and shaped them into hyperdense blades to be swung at each other, as fast as light. These improvised weapons left nothing more than papercuts on Thor's body, and would have barely scratched Ares, had he been unarmoured. When they shattered, the gods began to brawl.

A fraction of their clashes forces rippled outwards as they rained punches and kicks on each other, aiming for the joints; planets, rocky, ice giants and gas giants larger and heavier than the mundane universe had ever seen, were atomised by the force. Then they turned to their true weapons, and the grey plain below was soon covered in craters tens of trillions of light years wide and deep as its substance was reduced to subatomic paste.

Mjolnir, much like Zeus' thunderbolts, which it equalled in power, could not even dent Ares' spear. Thor, however, had attemped to cow the war god, drawing upon Mjolnir's mastery of vitality until his strength was boundless and the smallest conceivable instant lasted an eternity.

Ares, however, had tapped into the aether, to match Thor blow for blow and insult for insult.

'Hypocrite! Reaver! Slaughterer!'

'No more,' Thor promised as their weapons' hafts clashed and they tried to overpower each other. 'Never again.'

'Murderer!' Ares spat. 'And protector of rapists!'

'You will forgive me if I cannot take the patron of Sparta seriously,' Thor growled. 'When it comes to morality.'

Their contest would have continued longer, had they not been interrupted by another Olympian.

'Brother,' Hermes greeted Ares, caduceus in one hand, diamond sickle in the other. 'Odinson. Come. Apollo lit my way, and Heracles is waiting,' his dark, sharp features split in his characteristic roguish smirk. 'As are many others.'

'Finally,' Mars grunted, willing his faceplate to slide away, revealing a neatly-groomed, dark beard.

'It is time,' Thor agreed.

***

Kėdainai, Lithuania, 2031

'You are pretty sentimental, for a vampire,' the lamia said, straddling him. Or, rather, wrapping her tail around his legs as she looked down at him.

'You are pretty, too...what was I saying?' Diego smiled in what he hoped was a disarming manner.

She smiled. 'Cheap compliments won't sate my hunger.'

'I know.' His face grew more serious. 'But my flesh will.'

'You would give yourself to me, just like that?'

'Not just like that-as long as you promise not to feed on them anymore.' His red eyes bored into her deep, violet ones. Neither blinked. 'Their innocence is untouched. Mine is gone.'

'...you have latched onto me, haven't you? Like a newborn,' her full purple lip curled. 'Or a leech.'

'You are not a monster,' he said. 'Neither am I! We can keep each other sane! I know it!'

As Asterion sat down on the bench next to him, Diego hoped he hadn't really sounded that desperate, but he knew the truth.

Pah. Field hospitals always made him maudlin.

'Good hunting?'

Aster showed gristle-stained, wolflike fangs at the vampire's question. 'As bad as it was long.'

Diego began reciting a prayer in his mind. 'The children again?'

***

'Father, please!'

Slam. Slam. Slam.

'Release me!'

Thump. Thump. Thump.

'Father!'

The boy-calf smashes his head against the Labyrinth's walls, seeking the answer that will not come. His horns, still short, still blunt, do not help.

He feeds on what they give him: children, his age or younger, but fully human. Terrified-almost as much as him-and trapped. They know his patterns, when he is closest to starvation. That is when they send them.

He is too weak to escape: the walls are too strong to break or batter down, and seem to rise when he jumps or climbs, just as they bend and twist and stretch in on themselves when he tries to escape-for he is not clever enough, either.

He has nothing else to eat. At times, he tries to let himself starve. Then his hunger takes over: he sees red, and kills, and eats, and weeps.

He remembers two sisters, trying to shield each other. He remembers them begging, to kill one but spare the other, as if he can. He remembers crying with them, breaking their pale necks rather than biting into their white throats.

Like he did with the others. The boys had been brave. Tried to fight him, for their lives, or those of their lovers. Brave...so, so brave...

'What did I do!?'

He knows. He knows. He remembers scaring the court. How dare he be so ugly, so freakish? To shame his mother by living? He remembers failing to suckle, to graze. Killing the handmaidens. The soldiers, when they tried to stop him.

He would've starved then, too, otherwise. The curse, the curse... he remembers Minos, and Daedalus. He loves them so, so much, he wants to eat them alive, so they can be together, forever.

'Fa-a-ther...'

The bull. Poseidon. Minos. Who is his father? Sire? Creator? Mother's husband?

Who is he praying to?

'Aye,' Asterion answered. 'There's no joy in this, Diego.'

The vampire nodded. The children...were always the hardest to kill, and not just because it broke their hearts. Their parents-spiritual or literal-always shielded them enough for the monsters seeded in them by Chernobog himself or his ministers to blossom like abominable flowers.

They ate themselves, while the monsters did it from the inside. When they met, it was in the form of a "kiss". It always hurt to watch.

They wee taught that, if they did this, Chernobog would free them from pain, and fear, and remember them forever.

Not, necessarily, a lie.

***

Thoth taught me by means of cosmogony. I was fairly familar with most variants of the Egyptian creation myth, but reading about something and seeing plays and shows based on it didn't compare to the real thing, no matter how skilled the actors were.

It began, as such things often did, with water. Boundless, bottomless, an endless cosmic ocean: inert, but full of potential.

The nothing from which everything would rise. Up to this point, at least, there were no contradictions. In other words, people agreed on nothing. I could've wept.

From the waters, rose a mound: the benben. From the mound came life(ahem), which also inspired the shape of the pyramids, which were to it what pharaohs were to Ra-Horakhty.

I saw Ra and Apep form in the waters, the latter acting as the former's umbilical cord. Upon being severed and discarded, Apep became angry, which the creation of order and life only exacerbated.

I saw Ra-or Atum, or Aten, or Amun, or the sun god in his incarnation as Khepri, the morning sun scarab-rise from the benben(which I guess made it the mother and Nu the father), then shape the waters into existence, before pushing them to the sides and bottom.

Thoth was always present, too, as was his wife. The god of knowledge was always self-begotten, while the creator sun god was not always acausal; as the voice of the creator, he could be seen as the mouth speaking the world into existence.

I saw the projection of Ma'at, a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in an orange dress, wearing an ankh, smiling only at her husband.

'She's beautiful,' he said upon noticing me noticing her. 'Isn't she?'

'Very,' I admitted. 'But Mia is moreso.'

Thoth's beak curved at that as he rhrew his head back, laughing. 'There is not a soul who won't say that about their lover, David!'

His humour eventually died down, though not entirely. 'Now,' his eyes shone. 'Onto more spiritual matters.'

Thoth gestured at the images of creation. 'As you can see, order in general, and ordered existence in particular, is not something natural. It must be made, and maintainted, and fought for. It does not come to be by itself. Only chaos does.'

I nodded, glancing around myself. When I focused my godsight, the dark, all-encompassing ocean resolved into the image of a man with flesh made of waves, wearing a headdress the same dark green as the trimming of his loincloth. The figure was under, above and all around me. He stared back at me with lidless eyes, then smiled with his toothless mouth.

I noticed he seemed, somehow, endlessly tall and broad, with infinitely-thick limbs, but still man-shaped. Then, I saw what was inside him, and suddenly, the endless dark ocean seemed very welcoming.

'Is Nu Isfet?'

Thoth managed to convey his amused interest at my question, which was fairly impressive with no eyebrows. 'That's like asking if the Big Bang "is" space. I suppose? But it "is" also time, matter and...well.' He steepled his fingers. 'The problem is that you are asking two questions at once. Is Nu chaos? In its most primal form, yes. Is Nu evil? In the broadest sense...also yes, but only because chaos and evil are interchangeable in this context.'

'So, one can't exist without the o-'

Thoth flicked my nose. 'No one said that. Use your mind, David. Of course chaos can exist without evil-it precedes it! The reverse is more...nuanced.'

He sat down, and we were in front of Crypt headquarters, Nu gone. While I was glad to be back in mundane reality, even refreshed, Thoth seemed almost drained, at least mentally: he might not have been sweating and trembling, but he was tired.

'Order can lead to inanity,' he said, his thousand yard stare directed at no one in particular. 'Especially when tradition and ambition come into play. Do you know how stupid Horus and Set's rivalry got towards the end? Don't get me started on the boat race or the semen dominance contest.'

Ah, that. 'I think that's how tossing one's salad came to be, right?'

Thoth looked so cross at my innocent question I almost cried. 'You have no idea how much I hate you right now, David. And not just because your stupid worplay is only adjacent to...those idiots...' he clicked his beak, then shifted into his old, entirely human form, rising to his sandaled feet.

Thoth's footsteps didn't disturb the sand, nor did he make any sound as he moved: no breathing, no heartbeat. He didn't even smell like anything, unlike my carcass, which could've probably knocked people out from tens of metres away.

'David,' his face was so lined and wrinkled, it was almost impossible to read. Even his eyes were only dark slits in his parchment-like skin. However, I wasn't focusing on that.

Thoth's voice had softened; in fact, he sounded almost regretful. Each of his next words filled me with more dread than the last.

Thoth explained everything, not stopping when I began beating him after he admitted the lesson had also been meant to distract me, so things would unfold properly. He didn't pay any attention to my tears, or my curses, or my throbbing fists.

'I understand that,' he smiled sadly. 'Being an orphan is never easy, no matter the age.'

And you know the worst part?

It was only the third worst thing I learned at the beginning of said year.

***

Pops' verger knelt in front of the scorched patch of ground where he had departed, almost but not quite touching it. There was something in her glassy eyes, something between shock and reverence, that made my insides curdle.

Had I ever looked at anything with such slavish devotion?

'I tried to stop him, at first. I wanted to,' she whispered as I lifted her to her feet. 'But the Lady-the one you call your Lord-'

'I don't give a single fuck what gender you think it is.'

She reeled back from my words like I'd slapped her teeth out, which only made me want to do it more. 'She didn't let me. She showed me. Opened my eyes...'

'Tell me where my father went,' I smiled at her. 'Or I'll bite your them out and paint your womb with the remains.'

'I...I don't know.' Rebeca was googly-eyed, the dumb bitch. Worthless. 'Such things are only known to-'

'God, yes, fucking got it,' I bit out, before pushing her into the wall of pops' house. 'Hope it takes you too.'

It should've been her. It should've been me...

***

Adriana tensed as Alex wrapped spectral arms around her, but tried not to be too stiff. It would've hurt the ghost, and he'd already had enough.

"I'm sorry," Mihai mouthed as Alex's touch covered her clothes in frost. Adi nodded rapidly, as much to reassure him as to get some blood flowing.

The ghost's ectoplasmic tears fell onto her chest and shoulder, freezing her sweater. She only kept her teeth from chattering by gritting them, silently thanking her husband for sending Nina and Nela to their room. Alex's wails only failed to make her ears bleed due to mana reinforcement.

After the surgery had returned him to his former shape, Alex had answered some questions for the Supernatural Service. They'd investigate his murder, but the culprit made as little sense as the means: none, without time travel.

The motive, though...

'I'm sure David meant it as reassurance,' Alex sniffed after calming down to the point he could pace through their living room. 'But it...f-fucking scared me, Mihai.'

'I think he-' the mage looed down as his phone began vibrating, then at Alex. 'It's him.'

Mihai doubted the fast, ragged breaths were calming-they freaked him out, never mind Alex-but the ghost just sat down on air, clutching his chest.

'Yeah?'

'Hey, Mihai. You alright? The girls? Alex?'

'We're managing...how'd you know he's with me?'

David's laugh was closer to a croak. 'I'm catching up, one disaster at a time. Found out about you first.' A pause. When David spoke again, there was some trepidation in his voice. 'Can I come?'

'Ummm...' Mihai glanced between his shaking wife and best friend. 'I...don't think it's a good time, man. But, uh, thanks for the offer. Maybe Mia can-?'

'You'd drag her into this shit? Would you send your wife to-' David cut himself off, breathing quickly. 'Sorry. Yeah, I'll check. Was going home, anyway.'

***

It said something about my mood that a naked Mia couldn't keep my attention at all. I'd explained my absence, but it had only worried her more. My phone calls didn't help.

Bianca? A long, empty laugh.

Lucian? "The things we do for love, David...it is the death of duty, you know? I suppose you wouldn't.'

Andrei? No answer.

'Love?' She put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me, after dressing into some jeans and a hoodie. 'I'm going to Mihai's. Do you need anything?'

I shook my head, not looking at her, shoulders shaking. With a sigh, Mia left.

I turned to the nearest icon in my living room, breaking the piece of shit in half as I ripped it out of its frame.

'What goddamn reason did you have to take him!?'

***

Constantin awoke to fire.

Not black, as he'd expected. Crimson, tinged with gold, and ivory. It burned but didn't hurt, even as he fell and the flames washed over his skin, through his surplice and flesh.

There was an angel with him. Not his. His gauntleted hands firmly gripped the reins Constantin only weakly grasped with one hand.

'You saved me!'

The angel's emerald eyes softened under hair as red as the flames, but he didn't smile. 'I answered your prayer, Constantin. You asked the Lord to end the pain, the indecision, for decades.'

'Are you taking me home now?'

The angel shook his head. 'This is our home now, Constantin. Now and forever.'

The priest stiffened. 'Are you really an angel?'

'Were I one of my kin below, would you be talking back to me now?'

'...God is good.'

'Indeed.' Uriel shook the reins. 'You are welcome. Father opened my eyes, too: I was blind, until a half-angel came to Heaven.'

Blind...'David!' Constantin started. 'I must help my son!'

'I am afraid,' Uriel replied. 'That only your son can help himself now.'

Constantin did not relax. 'What are we doing?'

Uriel turned to him with a sorrowful look. 'Killing children, Constantin. They are tainted through ignorance and circumstance, not choice.' He sighed. 'And they will never grow up to change.'

***

A hypernova packed over ten FOEs-ten to the power of forty-four joules each.

Even the remains of Atlantis could manipulate such energies. In the laboratory pocket realm, a star fifty times as heavy as Sol was detonated; its mass, moving at ninety-nine percent lightspeed, was focused through a gravity tunnel.

The projectile, burning at hundreds of billions-nearly a trillion-of degrees Celsius, was launched at a hand-sized, millimetre-thick plate of atlantium, which had once made up the Empire Endless' buildings and tools. The plate was not only undamaged: it wasn't even scorched; still silver-white and flawless.

Unlike the mountain's worth of atlantium a ways away. Sklaresia's punch shattered several dozen kilometres' worth of the material, while her hellfire breath vapourised another identical block; it only remained gas for an infinitesimal moment, before being turned into brilliant plasma. The proximity heat melted a third, reducing it to bubbling slag in a blink.

'I thank you for this,' Vyrt smiled cheerfully at his host, ignoring the blast of hellfire that covered his face. His own seraphic flames burned it out of existence, and were themselves dismissed with a thought, just like they had been summoned. 'My aunt-though she resents the term-is working out her frustrations. You see, she dislikes people who think she is younger than she is. She says she is thirty-six, but if they assume years instead of millenia, is it her fault?'

'That is not why I'm pissed and you know it,' Klare huffed, four arms crossed.

The Watcher Over Horror was as steadfast as ever. 'Your presence is always welcome, nephilim. Within reason.' They looked up at Vyrt. 'Does your visit here have a purpose beyond entertainment?'

'Yeah.' The demoness turned. 'Maybe you could tell us where you bailed off to a while back.'

Vyrt nodded. 'Besides that...I, at least, was preparing. DEATH's Keeper must learn the truth, at last.'

***

Click. 'Yessss?'

'Loric.'

The discordant, multilayered chuckle was the most beautiful goddamn thing I'd heard today. 'Brother?'

Forgive me, Mia.