I almost nodded at Aaron's words, then remembered I couldn't leave just yet.

'Wait,' I held up a hand, and the zmeu's tense wings relaxed infinitesimally. His faces did not; at least, not the four that turned to glance down at me with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "Is this how ARC prepares its agents? Getting caught with their pants down just when we should get into gear?" must have been his thoughts, or something along those lines.

Yeah, well, sorry, old man. We haven't all spent decades on the Black Sea's shores or a warship's deck, ready to blast Turkey to superheated steam with a breath if they made one shady move. Still wondered if his tail was split during one of those staring contests.

And I wasn't at my -horrendously low bar incoming-mental best. Szabo's gentle treatment of me hadn't been the problem (though the fact it hadn't been was probably a problem in of itself. My strigoi side, less of an alternate personality and more of a really loud subconscious, relished violence and mayhem, which meant events that would have left my human side either screaming or staring off into the distance, were just things that happened) as much as his reason for it, vague as it was, if he even had one.

He'd rambled about me saying things I shouldn't as an ARC agent, but what had he meant? And what was that darkness him and the older zmeu brothers had seen?

My pop culture sense tingled, mildly notifying me that this had every chance to turn into some beautiful soap opera misunderstanding, subtype: tragic, if I didn't ask what the hell had everyone so clenched.

'I should have spoken to Szabo before he left,' couldn't believe my words, either. 'But I guess I was too stupid to remember until after. Going by his words, and yours, do you think I'm...possessed, or something? I can't tell.' I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice, but at least I didn't stutter.

All of Aaron's faces turned to me, a few blinking slowly, eyes closing sideways, as they only did when he was thoughtful, from what Luci had told me. Lucas was fingering his pockets for another blunt, two of his heads looking up at his older brother, one biting its lip. His middle head turned to glance at Mia in worry. Zmei never really bonded with their children as humans do, or at least should, but Lucas had never mated. I guess he had adopted her, in a way.

'I think you are still yourself, David,' the Bronze Boyar said carefully, and I almost gawked. This was the first time he had used my name. 'Whatever that shade around you is, it's not corrosive or cloying, like the possessions I'm used to. It would take a god to possess a strigoi, anyway...' Three heads shook, and I found myself nodding. The only gods I'd ever met were Thor and his sons, and they weren't known for staining people's souls. 'As for why we can see it, but you can't? It's either wrought so it's hidden from your sight, or our senses are simply keener than yours. But, if you want a fourth opinion,' Aaron's tone lightened almost imperceptibly as he jerked his head at something behind me. 'I think there's one incoming.'

Mia's jaw still looked raw when she touched down behind me, yellow flesh covered in angry purple bruises that were slowly being hidden by patches of yellow-orange flesh. It didn't stop her from grinning toothily at me, though her eyes were concerned as they roamed over me. Then, her gaze moved from me, to her boss, to his older brother, and she chuckled self-deprecatingly.

'Am I even allowed to hear whatever secret shit you're gossiping about?' she rasped. 'Without getting silenced later, I mean.'

'Perhaps not all of it, hatchling,' Aaron said in a surprisingly gentle voice. 'Mr. Silva-I think you are acquaintances, if I remember correctly?-has hit a rough patch at work, and it's left its mark on him. We were wondering if he seemed...different, to you?'

Mia's attention returned to me, and her eyes changed shade slightly, from gleaming scarlet to a deeper red, like old blood. 'Nah, he still looks good enough to eat,' her tone was droll, but I could still feel her spiritual eyes moving over my soul. 'About as ragged and grey as he imagines he is, but...whatever is that shitty ink blot? And why is it shaped like that?'

'Yes, I wondered that too,' Lucas chimed in, apparently having chosen not to smoke. 'Denser, for lack of a better term, around the head. Hmm...'

'This can't be a possession, then,' I said, annoyed at standing around like an idiot while I was examined. 'No demon, or god, or whatever, would leave such obvious evidence that even Mia could see it.'

'Ouch, teach!' Her right hand closed over her heart, index finger tapping her flat chest. 'You'll have to make up for that later...'

'I meant that you haven't exactly been training your arcane sense to spot spiritual traces,' I said placatingly, before my voice became firmer. 'As much of a rotten shit Szabo is, he was right: even if he didn't figght back and hurt you, you'd still be guilty of assaulting an ARC agent. What the hell made you jump in?'

'Helping you,' she shot back, clenching her jaw. The action drew a pained whine from her, and I winced in sympathy. 'Busting into the Raised Scale like that without a warrant? Assaulting an off-duty colleague? And besides, what the fuck did you expect me to do, stand aside while he ripped you apart?'

'You-' No, Mia hadn't seen Szabo in action. But, dammit, even bullrushing me like should have been evidence that... 'He's much stronger than me. You couldn't have done anything to him.'

Mia's expression turned wry, like a child with a secret. I saw the magical power inherent to zmei well up inside her, concentrating into her right hand, which splayed, drawing a glowing cross on thin air. My eyes burned at the sight. 'You might be surprised. Luci told me you brought up my Symbology classes. We don't only paint and talk during those, you know?' Mia grasped the cross like it wasn't made of light, gently tapping it against my chest, over my heart. I cursed at the slight burn, taking a step back. 'Should have put this through his skull. I just didn't expect him to be that damn fast...' Mia shook her head, the cross dispersing, and looked at Lucas. 'What about you, boss? Expecting problems for fucking up an ARC agent?'

'I reiterate my point about the uniform,' Lucas said, slightly more relaxed now that his employee was recovering. 'Should have told Silva to come with him for disciplinary action, or whatever he felt was the problem.'

"Disciplinary action" reminded me that Szabo had been confined to predetermined patrol routes through Hungary. Had that changed? Had he disobeyed orders just to come at me for...

I suppressed an involuntary shiver-of pleasure. My strigoi side crooned at the thought of that old monster putting himself in danger just to hurt us. Images of me shoving pops' iron-silver cross through his exposed brain flashed through my mind.

'Was that all, Silva?' Looked like it was back to the usual with Aaron.

'No, sorry. There's something I must really get from my father,' I began explaining, but he waved me off halfway through.

'Better to have it and not need it than the reverse. I'm faster than you. Where did you say you live?' I gave him my address, and the giant zmeu was out of my sight and over the horizon faster than I could see.

***

'...your son insisted, Father Silva,' Aaron finished, squatting down in front of the Our Redeemer Christ church. It had been built on the space where the old church had stood before the town's devastation decades earlier, and designed to accommodate larger supernaturals. But, as both Aaron's former lovers said and his younger brothers joked, he was larger than expected. 'I presume he expects to meet Old Scratch as he scales Yggdrasil, but, as I told him...'

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Constantin nodded, not looking up from the altar he had repurposed as a forge. The Lord had given him the flames and heat to work the metal without any tools, but he still harboured some doubts. David had never been eager to hurt himself, not before...well.

That had been a failure on both their parts. Far more on his for not foreseeing and preventing it, Constantin believed.

'Of course, Admiral,' Constantin agreed as he added the white-glowing chain to the cross. 'You also said something about a darkness around him?'

'Indeed. I believe David was touched by a corrupting being or place, though he does not seem to remember anything unusual. Or, if he does, he is a very good dissembler.'

'Actually, he couldn't lie to save his life-so to speak.' Constantin held up the cross before his face, took a deep breath, and blew, turning the metal cold as death. Only fitting.

DAVID'S MIND IS HIS OWN AND ONLY HIS OWN-THOUGH HIS EYES AND AND EARS AND THOUGHTS ARE NOT, the Lord spoke into Constantin's mind. BUT DO NOT DESPAIR. I SHALL BE AT YOUR SON'S SIDE, AS I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN. LET THE BLACK GOD BELIEVE HE IS THE ONLY ONE WATCHING THROUGH HIM.

Constantin drew a sharp breath at the declaration. As he passed Aaron the cross and watched him fly away, he wondered how much the old zmeu really knew and saw.

Father? Constantin thought. Why would he leave such an obvious mark of his passing that the zmeu could see it? Surely he is not that amateurish?

AN AMATEUR WOULDN'T MAKE SURE EVERYTHING DAVID DOES AND SEES IS LITERALLY SHROUDED IN DARKNESS. HIS FELLOWS WILL SEE THE SHADOW, TOO, AND HARBOUR DOUBT. HOW MUCH IS THE STRIGOI CHOOSING TO DO, AND HOW MUCH IS HE MADE TO DO? DOES HE TRULY NOT SEE THE MONSTER BEHIND HIM? HAS HE BEEN SENT BY CHERNOBOG TO SABOTAGE, OR SPY, OR DESTROY? PERHAPS ARC IS AWARE AND DOES NOT DO ANYTHING, BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL CORRUPT.

Are they?

THEY ARE INDEED AWARE, CONSTANTIN. LORIC SZABO'S EYES SEE THE SHAPE OF THE MARKING, NOT JUST THE RESULT, FOR HE IS CLOSER TO DARKNESS THAN YOUR SON. BUT HE IS RECKLESS, AND BELIEVES HE SEES THE CLEAREST. HE DOES NOT. AYA REEM SEES THE ADVERSARY GRINNING ACROSS THE BOAR, NOT JUST HIS UNWITTING PAWN, AND MAKES HER MOVE. AND THERE ARE OTHERS, WHO WILL EITHER BE TOLD BY HER OR SEE THEMSELVES. THE REMAKER, FOR ONE. HE TOOK YOUR SON TO THE PLACE WHERE HE BEGAN TO FORGE HIMSELF INTO THE DEFENDER HE WILL BECOME, AND HAS A KEEN INTEREST IN GUIDING HIM TO THE END OF THAT PATH.

***

After Aaron came back with my cross-ordinary but for two details: its end was sharp, for stabbing, and its edges were bladed; and it was so heavy the weight would have torn off a human's head, to prevent mundane thieves-we said goodbye to Mia and Lucas, we flew to Constanța, two hundred or thereabouts kilometres covered like a walk to the corner store. I, let alone Aaron, could have made it there in a moment, but I didn't have enough control over my speed not to mess up a lot of the country by flying that fast, while Aaron could tell the laws of physics to go fuck themselves, and they'd ask how hard.

The resorts had been emptied, the staff sent home to make way for the Army, Navy and Air Force people who had moved in from bases around the country, as well as those close to our borders.

Vamps, weres, and even a few strigoi-no human soldiers; the mages hung back, ready to play artillery, but weren't on site in case Chernobog or any of his merry counterparts from other pantheons dropped in. This was all heavies-though they stood aside, milled about on the beach. Above, zmei in Air Force uniforms mingled with their Bulgarian zmey counterparts, who had used their powers over weather to bring about some sunlight and warmth, not that it helped anyone's mood.

While Aaron met with his opposite numbers to coordinate, I spotted Flavius Marcus gesturing at me to come to him. He was standing apart from the soldiers, though not alone.

I recognised the people around him from my story books. Iovan Iorgovan with his mace, Prîslea with his bow and wry grin, Greuceanu with the scimitar that held his power. Other heroes too, from other countries. Marko Mjnarcevic, attended by a grinning, hairless man with skin like rock, who was so tall the Bulgarian hero barely came up to his ankles. Marko nodded earnestly at my approach, lamb-sized black moustache fluttering. I would have said his dark eyes looked cunning and shrewd, if his wolfskin cap didn't keep falling over them.

The ispolin chuckled gravelly at Prince Marko's enthusiasm, body naked but for a loincloth and vest made from blackberry bushes.

'Yes,' the ispolin rumbled at my questioning frown. 'The weakness of my kind. Had an elder brother once who tripped and fell over a blackberry bush. Bled out until he was white.'

'What a horrible way to die,' I replied, thinking of something less bland to say.

'Oh, certainly. The poor bastard was lucky the axe in his skull had already killed him,' the giant chuckled to himself, not noticing or caring about my expression, Iovan's disgusted scowl-the Bludgeon-Armed hero had almost unknowingly married his sister, and so despised mockery of family-and Marko's roared pleas not to be macabre. 'But, see, if an enemy sees me like this, they'll think I've grown past my weakness, or I'm insane and, as such, too dangerous to fight,' the ispolin concluded, tapping his head.

'Please, cousin giant,' Prîslea began in a way that suggested he'd have liked to hear the giant talk some more, going by the amused gleam in his green eyes. 'Your family is fascinating, but mayhap our newest comrade ought to learn why we have been gathered here, at the edge of the fruitless sea?'

'Thank you, Brave one,' Marc said, his white, transparent form shimmering in relief. 'There are heroes gathering at agreed-upon points in Hungary, Ukraine and all over the world. The nations' armies will remain to guard their lands, while their heroes, aided by ARC, will search for what the Aesir have failed to find.'

'I get you being here, then,' I said, trying to hide my enthusiasm at meeting my childhood heroes. 'But me? I've only been in ARC for three years, and I'm convinced you're only keeping me around for my power, unless someone has their eye on me.'

'Yes, unless.' A corner of Marc's mouth twitched upwards, then he was back to his stoic expression. 'Maybe you should work more on sensing emotions, David. It is your least used ability. Anyway...you and I will be ARC's liaisons to the pantheons' chosen. Well, to our third of the taskforce, that is. Nightraiser and the Argument Engine will liaise with the other thirds.'

He said those names like they were supposed to mean something to me, but I could only stare blankly. Probably senior ARC agents, whose existence was revealed on a need to know basis, then.

'Heimdall should drop the bridge for us any-' Rainbow light. A sensation of falling upwards, of standing still as the world sped away from you. Darkness so bright it blinded, and silence that deafened. 'Moment.' The Legionary's sigh told me exactly where he believed the god should shove his dramatic timing.

Uroarbrunnr was not a large well, but the sight of its waters still made me weep thick, cold blood. It was nothing compared to the three old women sitting around it, though.

The Norns took one look at me and my teammates, pursed their lips in resignation, and turned to the wolfishly-grinning, raven-haired, scarred god standing a little ways from them, leaning against Yggdrasil's root with his arms crossed.

Tyr nodded appreciatively at Greuceanu, and winked the giant, causing Marko's head to swivel between them, the Prince sputtering as he tried to keep his cap in place.

'Welcome, brave heroes,' he began. 'And everyone else. I am here to guide you along the most blessed furnace-fodder there is, and make sure you do not die accidentally. My brothers are, in theory, going to do the same for the other teams. If you need a hand, please, tell me, for I share your problem. We can look for handouts together.'

Oh, yes. We were going to get along like worms on a corpse.

'Now, while we wait for the last of our number to arrive, feel free to think of names for our little group. Every gathering of heroes needs one! We will be like those other fellows, ah, what were they called...the Band of the Band?'

'The Fellowship of the R-'

'Thank you, dead man. Speaking of dead men, did you know this cosmic circus will only end when Mimir's head will be touched by death? So the honoured ones have told me.' Tyr tilted his head in the direction of the silent Norns, who still eyed us curiously. It was Verdandi, though I only learned her name later (and couldn't tell them apart at the moment) who broke the silence.

'He is here.'

The adamantine-booted feet shook the well, and all of Yggdrasil and its worlds, when they slammed into the rune-covered rock platform.

Clad in gleaming white plate that showed no joints or openings, the newcomer towered head and shoulders above me, and was over twice as broad. In fists that could and had turned worlds to dust, he held an adamantine mace that would never break, and an ivory greatsword that could cut anything, leaving wounds that would never heal-Fragarach's Olympian mirror, forged to slay Titans.

The skin of a lion, indestructible to everything save the beast's claws and teeth, which had been fashioned into a dagger that hung at the giant's hip, without any support, was wrapped around his shoulders, the head covering his helmet like a cowl. And on his back, he bore a bow and quiver, filled with arrows so vile their smell alone would heave a human thrashing in pain.

The newcomer put his sword on his hip, where it remained as if stuck. A gauntleted hand flipped up the visor-I only realised there was one then, but couldn't see any hinges or mechanisms to move it- revealing an olive-skinned, dark-bearded face, deep blue eyes shining with resolve.

'Fear not,' Heracles beamed at us. 'This strife ends now. Take me to the guilty.'