Oh, yes, Tyr. A blessing in disguise. Hel was such a nice place, I bet people were dying to get there. Just the kind of place I'd like to be in after losing our heaviest hitter.

'Marc,' A quick side glance of acknowledgement. 'Do you feel as strange as I do?'

'I don't know exactly how you feel, David.' Well, that only made sense. We were both guys. 'But...this place is for those who die shamefully, as the Norse understood it. I died in battle, so I am unwelcome here, as far as the realm is concerned.' You, on the other hand, should feel right at home was left unsaid. My lips twisted into a sardonic smile at what the Norse would have thought of my death. Oh, look at Silva, never having to kill and fight to survive, whining because people don't read his rags. Getting a rope tie because strangers won't acknowledge him.

Laughable...

'Come, you two.' Tyr's ravenous sword was now sheathed across his back. 'We must reach the gates.'

Much like the forest near Urziceni, time and distance in Hel seemed dictated by drama, as opposed to logic. We were moving, as far as my senses could tell, but the landscape, dead grass covering dry, grey hills like funeral shrouds over corpses, didn't change.

Marc tried to scout ahead of us a few times, claiming he'd been dead far longer than me, and Tyr was too valuable to lose, but his ghostly speed, unbound by the laws of reality, didn't get him anywhere. Each time, he stumbled back at out sides, looking for all the world like a bird that had smacked headfirst into a window. I hope Hel found it hilarious, because he definitely didn't.

Frustrated by the bleak, unchanginc environment, and Marc's pointless attempts to help us in any way, I decided to badger my other companion.

'Say...which of your hands did that wolf bite off? I forget,' I smiled at Marc's warning look. What the hell was Tyr going to do, kill me? Good job losing potential help. I'd have thought it would burn bridges with ARC too, but I doubted anyone in the organisation gave enough of a damn about me to ask for recompense from the Aesir.

'Remember the one I smacked you with? The other one.'

'Ah, I see. I'm glad you're all right now.'

Tyr smirked. 'You have no idea how much we have mellowed out in this day and age, strigoi. In another time, I would have bitten your head off for that.'

'Sorry, not into that.' I faked a long yawn. 'You know how some strigoi return from death because they still want to live?'

'Are you one of them?'

'No, I did the hemp pirouette of my own accord. But you should really bring those threats of yours when I show you the field in which I grow my fucks.'

Marcus stepped in between we could start trading more than words. 'Lord Tyr, are we any closer to the gates?'

'Yeah, are we there yet?' I bared my fangs at Tyr's irritated smirk. 'Because I'm  this close to draining that overgrown worm-fodder of life and sending handyman back home to daddy in screaming pieces.'

The god shook his head, chuckling. 'Why are you even so angry at me, Silva? Is it because I honoured Heracles' request to leave them behind? Or are you just shaken because I hit you and you felt it?'

I forced myself to laugh. 'That's it? You think I've forgotten what pain is like? Or did you just cream yourself at the fact you're no longer fated to become dogfood, and your brain got rattled-'

Tyr's hand was suddenly crushing my neck, but I wheezed straight into his face. 'Kill me now, or I'll eat you, right after a snack.'

'You are right, strigoi,' Tyr said thoughtfully, ignoring my offer. 'I am indeed no longer fated to die to Garmr. Maybe I should take a leaf from Surtr's book, and rewrite my destiny.'

I bet Surtr read as much as Tyr wrote, but I was too busy landing on my feet after he dropped me to point that out.

'You asked why I'm so angry at you?' I called after the war god, who was purposefully stalking ahead. 'Maybe it's the fact your pops dragged everyone into this shitfest because he couldn't keep track of his stuff. Or maybe it's the fact you abandoned those three to die, despite the fact I'm fucking unkillable to whatever that walking coal mine can do! I should have stayed to hold Surtr off! Why the fuck did you listen to Heracles?'

'Why doesn't your god snap his fingers and make everything alright?' he replied without turning. 'Why is he doing nothing to stop this crisis?'

'How should I know His ways-'

'Think, Silva. Why have none of the gods mightier than my father done anything to end this strife? Free will. Why is your god acting through you rather than intervening himself? Free will. Why did I honour a friend's request?' His gimlet stare pierced my soul as he looked over his shoulder. 'Free will. One day, you may learn we can only accept what others want.'

It was a quiet walk to Hel's gates after that.

They appeared out of mist that was nowhere near enough to hide them. I supposed it was because we'd all poured our hearts out and were now best friends forever.

The slabs of black iron were almost as tall and broad as the mountainside they were set in, carved to look like-no. Not carved. The skeletons that stood out in relief were real bone, melted together and covered by iron.

They were nowhere near as grim as the thing guarding them, though. Garmr didn't look like much, physically, though Cujo would have felt insecure next to him. But metaphysically, he was dripping with the thick, cold blood of every dead man who had tried to get past him, and was wearing their gore like armour.

The hound raised his head at Tyr's approach, fur bristling in wariness. The war god hummed, tapping his fingers on his hip.

'Go ahead, you two. He'll let you in, and I'm sure his mistress will welcome you. I want to try something.'

***

'I am glad the giant told you. I will not reiterate the facts.' I thought Hel's living half was beaming, though it was hard to tell with the dead one's permanent rictus meeting its expression halfway through. The goddess was half beautiful, fair-skinned and fair-haired, and half hideous, with paper-thin skin than clung to prominent bones where it didn't sag, or hang like ragged curtains to reveal shriveled organs.

She stood on a throne of yellowed bone, surrounded by every coward and wretch who had ever died believing in the Norse gods.

But those things, we had expected. They weren't what concerned us.

One of the problems was her big brother, prowling around her throne with his fangs barred, looking quite prepared to huff and puff, and blow Odin's house down.

The other problem was her even bigger brother, who had slunk away from Midgard after deciding he wanted to and could. I wasn't sure how Jormungandr was positioned around and through Hel, but his head was definitely beneath us, given the scaled, shifting floor.

'I do not know where the head is, either. But fear not,' That phrase always calmed people down. 'If one of you gives all he is to me, I will be able to achieve the clarity needed to help you find it.'

Before I could tell her to wait just a damn moment, or at least go over her offer with Marc, I realised I was alone. The Legionary was now standing on the steps of Hel's throne. The goddess' hand, gaving parted his ghostly plate, was now gripping his heart.

Marcus turned to look at me, a shaky smile on his face, which was becoming vaguer and vaguer while his body came apart. 'Told you...lived long enough, played at it...far too long. See this through to the end, David. That's...an order...'

Not trusting my damned mouth, I leapt forward, barreling straight through the ghosts trying to stop me. My friend tried to push me away, still smiling, while Hel lay back in her throne, eyes rolled into the back of her head. I gripped Marcus's arms, as if I could pll him back together and put myself in his place.

'You damned fool,' I hissed, pointlessly directing my will at his unravelling self, trying to heal the spiritual rips, push my lifeforce into Marcus' form. "N-Not...not even asking for my fucking opinion, eh? Just went ahead and sacrificed yourself?'

'If I didn't do this,' Marcus rasped. 'I'd be telling you that...instead...'

I was never able to tell him he had been right.

Marcus was only the first to go. Hel's ghosts were drawn to their goddess like iron filongs to a magnet, and she shuddered as she consumed them, smoke rising from her flesh where bones broke through it. Hel spoke in tongues, in a language I didn't understand but which made my ears bleed. I tried to keep my footing as the throneroom shook in the throes of the goddess' oracular trance...and in the end, it was all for nothing.

The last thing I heard before my ears began ringing was that, despite the ritual that had burned up so many millions of ghosts, including one of my few friends, as fuel, she had been unable to see Mimir's head.

Then, I saw black.

***

My first thought after I came to was that, damn, Thor looked really angry gripping Mjolnir like that as he stood above me.

My second thought was, when the hell had he gotten there? How long had I been out?

'...to answer your question,' the god ground out. Damn, I didn't remember asking anything, but that wasn't a reason to get mad. 'With one of my own, strigoi: how could you do this?'

I looked down at his gesture, at Fenrir's dismembered carcass scattered over Jormungandr's cracked-open skull. At Hel's corpse, split in half at the chest, which I was standing in.

I stumbled and fell on what had once been a paw, scrabbling against cracked scales to avoid landing on my face.

H-How...when...?

Thor...Thor had always hated the snake and wolf. I doubted there had been any love lost between him and Hel, either, but...f-fuck. Was...was I trying to justify this? They had not done anything, except... except-

...

My focus returned to the thunder god's rambling.

'I don't mean, how could you have the gumption to do this, Silva. I mean, you literally should not have been able to.' He shook his head. 'We knew the Black God would use you to do something reckless, but...we did not expect this.'

'No, you did not,' I agreed, letting the glamour over my hand fall away, revealing claws that dripped venom-Jormungandr's first and last gift to me.

My hand plunged through the gullible moron's chest and heart before he could even think to dodge or block. I laughed in his rapidly-paling face, leaping away to see him stagger.

He dropped the hammer first-expected. Then, he managed stumbled towards me, before falling at my feet.

Where they would all end up, one day.

'Nine paces, Thunderer,' I crooned. 'It seems that, in the end, you didn't have the heart to defy destiny. Just like poor Tyr...who never had a hand in his fate. Did you see him and the dog when you arrived? Don't worry. You'll meet them soon,' I promised, patting my belly with one hand, while raising the corpse to my widening maw with the other.

Now...it was about time little David got to see his handiwork. Unlike other gods, I never claimed the credit for my servants' accomplishments, be they unwitting or willing.

***

The divine remains still possessed enough distinguishing features to make me dry-heave when I finished retching. My throat burned from the god flesh that had passed through it, and felt raw even before I began spitting blood, trying to make sense of...of...

I ate people, a small corner of my mind whispered distantly. Like a strigoi would.

That small corner of my mind-which, in truth, was my truest self, and had never been small; in fact, it had been growing smarter and larger since my undeath-twisted my face into a broken grin. I began chuckling as tears ran down from my wide eyes, running down to mix with the blood, mine and theirs, spattering my chin.

My laugh, like jagged shards of glass rasping against each other, was answered by a joyous, booming, equally-twisted one.

Then Chernobog was looming above me, and everything became clear.

'Killing gods of other faiths without mercy or thought...a true man of Christ, David.' Chernobog grasped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His other hand lightly touched my iron-silver cross, turning it to a cloud of metallic dust. 'He suspected, you know?' The Black God nudged half of Thor's face with a clawed foot. The thunder god's glassy, storm-grey eye was still narrowed in angry defiance. 'They all did. Let me coil up inside you, like a wasp larva in a caterpillar. Watched while I raped your mind...' His featureless face split to reveal ivory teeth, bared in honest amusement. 'They knew I would reach out through you, and did nothing. Too concerned with peace and balance, the cowards will whine. Or they wanted me to strike down their rivals, or act as their proxy, others will admit. But...does that truly matter to you, David? I had you for so, so long...owned your body more completely than any woman ever did.'

He didn't let me spit, either blood or insults, instead lifting me to his eye level with a clawed and around my abused throat. "Should I tell you what madness possessed the Dagda to kill the dragon? To drive the cold ones mad, and push everything into motion? He has always been a lover of nature and innocence. It was all he could do once he passed by those who had been maimed by Nidhogg, in revenge and the name of justice...just, don't tell him the dragon never left Ygdrassil's roots, let alone harmed anyone. It might drive him mad permanently, this time." He whispered, dropping me a heavy wink.

'Y-You-' I managed to choke out before he shook me.

'No, David. I am just the lead of this play, not the playwright. I was the one who stole the head while everyone was losing theirs over the Dagda's deed, though.'

'Then why?! If you've known where it was this whole time, why-' His slap knocked two front fangs lose. I would never regrow them.

'Because the Aesir would never allow me, in person, to even come close to their tree. You and the other expendables, though? I must thank you for carving my path. And, you want to know the best thing?' Chernobog leaned forward, wide mouth next to my bleeding ear. 'I just dropped it back in its well.'

And then he tossed me over Hel's edge, never stopping from talking. 'The knowledge contained within its waters blinded them, for it was brighter in the aether than the one who once drank from them. Food for thought, David! You have all eternity to mull it over! Wouldn't want you to get bored in Ginnungagap!'

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

After the echoes of Chernobog's last taunt faded, I fell for what felt like days, but I knew I couldn't trust my senses in this not-place. There was nothing but shadows and silence, for as far as I could see. I couldn't fly, though I didn't know why. It was like a dream of falling, except this nightmare would never end.

***

Having drained the knowledge contained in the old god's head, Chernobog decided to head to Earth, while everyone else were still wrapping their heads around it. He didn't know if Thor had come to Hel based on a hunch, or if he had been the first sent and the others were coming; and, truly, he couldn't pretend to care, either.

Even if they all dogpiled and killed him, he might as well give their beloved neutral world something to remember him by. Starting with that city David loved so much...

To Chernobog's shock and disappointment, the first sight to greet him as he arrived in Bucharest were not screaming mortals, but his old, nearly-forgotten rival, blade raised to strike him down.

Chernobog blocked Belobog's sword of light with a blade of shadow, putting Mimir's drained head on his hip, letting it hang there from a knot of solid darkness. This cost him a dozen wounds, glowing tears in his black hide that light streamed from.

'Elsbeth Crane?' he guessed. It was just like Zeus' latest whelp to always expect the worst...spineless bitch. 'Is this how your power told you was the best way to fight me!?'

With a grunt, he broke through the sword, expecting the Belobog facsimile to fall apart under his strength, and reveal Crane. Maybe her rapist father and slut mother would want her back in pieces?

The White God fell apart, indeed, but there was nothing beneath the bright facade.

Because there had been no facade.

Chernobog glared up, and Nacht beamed down at him, laughing in the voice of a content murdered flaying a newborn at midnight. Hex stood on air, his partner's dark form passing through and out of him. His stitches had been torn apart, and Night, in its purest form, filled his joints. Wide, black eyes twinkled with amusement, while a toothless, tongueless mouth spread wide, dripping darkness.

'Forgive the cliché,' the Black God began. 'But this is impossible. I destroyed your human bitch while you were still reeling from Thor's strike, in the void. Without him as your link, you cannot manifest in the universe.'

'Indeed! You left me alone with naught but my fears and hatred, Chernobog...cruel, cruel soul that you are. But I am the darkness in men, not just the absence of light. Fear, hatred, greed...and so, so much more. I can bring them all out, but I never truly tried it on myself until you left me...indisposed. I must thank you for that!' Hex clapped slowly, sarcastically. 'I have never loathed or loved a man as much as I do Hex, you know? He is...the darkness inside me. It was the easiest thing for me to reach for what darkened my heart, and bring him back from oblivion. With him returned, I was free to act again!'

'If you're done gargling your own cock,' Chernobog tilted his head. 'I have a question. Two, actually. Are you controlling him now? Have you switched the literal strings for metaphorical ones? And...Belobog. Did you search for the darkness in my heart, and brough forth the object of my loathing?'

'Those were three questions, Black God~' Hex grabbed his white long coat, opening wide to reveal darkness no light could ever pierce. A white head, featureless but for a pair of antlers, emerged from it, followed by Belobog's body and sword. Chernobog scoffed. If all they could do was bring back his rival whenever he was destroyed, he-

Another White God strode out of the darkness, crossing his sword over the first one's. Then, two more. Eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two.

Chernobog backed away, cursing, spinning in place to keep track of the thousands and thousands of White Gods Nacht had spun from his fears, each as powerful as the last.

'I would question your bad luck, Chernobog, but...you should have never harmed Emil,' Nacht leered, moving Hex's right hand down his side, to his hip, then lower. 'He is my chain and cell and jailor, and I will break him one day. But he is mine.' The leer dropped off Hex's face, the impossibly wide smile returning. 'But enough about fear! What if the possibility you hate the most came true?'

'Do it, bastard,' Chernobog breathed, fending off half a dozen Belobog clones as they circled him. Power that would have turned stars to nothing was shackled by their godly wills, so that even this dingy side alley was left untouched. 'Bring the pantheons here. They will trample you to nothing fighting over what I bear.'

Nacht laughed. 'It seems you are dimmer than I remember. Or...not? Hmm...more short-sighted, perhaps. I am talking about David Silva, Black God~ or, rather, what he will become.' Hex leaned forward, hands on his knees. 'You saw the shadow of his destiny, and tried to snuff it out? A god, of all things, should know that never works. Should I reach forward through time, and bring him here and now? No...I think I shall not. Wouldn't want the Fixer feeling I am threatening his protégé...'

***

I fell through a shadow, and down onto Bucharest's streets. I didn't know which area, exactly, but I knew the city's smell. Before I could get my bearings, though, Chernobog was on me.

'Damn you,' he snarled. 'That thing and its puppets will kill me, but before...before...' A mad grin split his face as he raised a shrunken head with his free hand. Despite the grey skin and blank eyes, I recognised the face of the god of memory. But before I could speak, Chernobog pressed its forehead against mine.

'You should have died. You will regret living. If I am to pass tonight, I shall happily do so, knowing every god and man will hunt you for what you are.' The head began cracking in his grip. 'I took away what it knew, not what it does. It cannot think anymore, for it is dead, but it knows everything about everything it sees. I wonder if seeing the world like that will drive you mad before the gods cut you apart for your knowledge.'

And Mimir's head shattered, its godly perception flowing from its eyes into mine, showing me the truenamesofeverythingpastpresentfuturewhatcouldbewhatshouldneverhavebeenSTOPSTOPSTOPTHISISNOTASTHINGSSHOULDBE-

***

Lucas put a comforting hand on his apprentice's shoulders. Zmei never felt cold, so any shudders from them were usually theatrical, but...he had the feeling Mia was not fooling around.

'Someone just walked over my grave,' she hissed, fangs clenched. 'I m-must...' Mia was out of the shop before she finished her sentence. Cursing, Lucas bounded after her.

***

'He passed Mimir's sight along,' Hex mused, kicking Chernobog's remains aside to squat over the wild-eyed, babbling strigoi. 'Nacht...Silva was a gullible fool, but he does not deserve this. Do you have a way to cure this...madness?'

'I do not, Hex. But she might.'

Normally, Hex was loath to involve civilians in what they did. But when the zmeu girl, claiming to have felt 'something wrong' in their current location, began making crosses out of thin air, he decided to make an exception.

Now, if only she could stop crying enough to do whatever she believed would save her friend...

Turned out, Silva was more loved than Emil, or even the strigoi himself, perhaps, knew.

A bigger, three-headed blue male zmeu touched down a few metres from the female, two heads taking in the scene. The middle one raised a questioning eyebrow.

For the first time in his life, Hex did not know what to do.

***

There was no light at the end of the tunnel for me. Only darkness, and two figures, both painfully bright, both vaguely humanlike, floating in the void.

I knew what this was, without needing to be told. Though I hadn't been judged like this after my first death. But they knew everything there was to know about me, without needing to ask anything.

'TAKE MY HAND, DAVID,' the first figure said. 'YOU WILL GO WHERE YOU HAVE ALWAYS BELONGED, AND KNOW NOTHING MORE OF THIS WORLD AND ITS STRIFE. I ASK ONLY THAT YOU FIND PEACE.'

'TAKE MY HAND, DAVID,' the second figure said. 'YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO LIFE, FREE TO SHAPE THE WORLD AND THE LIVES OF ITS PEOPLE. I WILL RESHAPE YOUR MIND TO FIT CHERNOBOG'S UNASKED-FOR BOON, AND MADNESS WILL LEAVE YOU. BUT YOU WILL NEVER KNOW PEACE, FOR MAN AND GOD ALIKE WILL HUNT YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE AND KNOW. YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE AFTERLIFE. BUT YOU WILL SEE AS MIMIR SAY, AND POSSESS KNOWLEDGE AS NO MAN EVER HAS. I ASK ONLY THAT YOU LET ME WATCH EVENTS UNFOLD.'

After that, it was obvious-both my choice, and the identity of the beings. I took the second figure's hand, turning to scowl at the first. 'That shining disguise cannot hide what you are,' I said warningly.

'INDEED, DECEIVER,' the second figure told the first. 'YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN TOO ENAMOURED OF YOUR MASKS AND PAWNS, PEOPLE WHOSE HEARTS YOU DO NOT TRULY KNOW. TAKE THIS ONE, FOR EXAMPLE. YOU TOLD ME HE BELONGED TO YOU.'

'ALL MEN HOLD YOU IN THEIR HEARTS. THE GREAT ONES FIRST AMONG THEM.'

The second figure shook its head, amused, then leaned forward, letting me see its horns. 'I LOVE YOU HUMANS,' he said with a crooked smile, morningstar-bright eyes shining. 'YOU NEVER REFUSE KNOWLEDGE!'

And then, there was light.

***

Mia's worried face, scales gleaming with tears, greeted me after I...after I came back to life. The second time. She held a needle and thread of golden light in her claws, praying to whatever gods listened to let it work, dammit, while she stitched my head back onto my body. Her eyes weren't the usual red, but a white so bright it hurt. The first figure reaching down into the world, for His opposite already had. The guiding light left her eyes only after the stitches circled my neck. They burned briefly, before fading into my pale flesh.

I rubbed my neck, feeling the old, reassuring texture of my noose marks, before taking in the devastated sight that spanned city blocks around us. It looked like a mage army had gotten high, then tried to LARP while using the Necronomicon as a guidebook. Nonsensical colours, impossible shapes and tears in spacetime, leading to places man had never been meant to see, for hundreds of metres around, despite the ARC agents hard at work cleaning up the new eldritch landmarks. The result of me speaking, with Mimir's inherited perception telling me the true name of everything I saw, and making me speak it without thought, for my mind hadn't been able to deal with it.

I turned to Mia, determined to avoid starting my new life-dealt with the Devil, my strigoi side snickered in my mind, sounding clearer than ever-with a lame line.

'Crying doesn't suit you,' I rasped, forcing myself to sit up, bones cracking. Clearly, Mimir hadn't been a god of knowledge pertaining to being a ladies' man.

But she hugged me, and, when she told me to shut up and preserve my face, they still weren't sure whatever had happened to me, she didn't sound exasperated.

Look at me, so much game I was a...a...

Blackness, again.

***

'I can't believe you killed me,' I told Mia for the third time, staring at the whitewashed ceiling of the ARC infirmary as I lay back in bed. Her provisional uniform-killing an agent, even for his own good, not to mention getting involved into the the Headhunt mess, as it was called now, from her own volition, meant she either had to work with us for a time, until she was proven trustworthy, or accept a silencing enchantment being placed on her- wrinkled from all the times she'd fussed over me, not to mention the numerous occasions she'd fidgeted with it when I didn't need anything.

'I know, right? That wasn't how I imagined taking your head,' Her smile didn't reach her eyes, which were darting over the room for something, anything she could use to help me recover from my skull-splitting headache, or the numbness that spanned my whole body. 'But at least I learned to add bladed edges to my constructs. Only way to keep you down, really, until...'

'Necessity is the mother of invention,' I agreed. 'Never cross me again, though. Please.'

Mia growled to mask her snicker. 'The fact you're abed is the only reason I'm not folding you in half for that pun.'

'You'll have plenty of time for that later,' I joked. 'Let's stick to kissing for now, alright?'

'Implying we've started,' she scoffed, before her eyes softened. 'David...I don't want you to feel you "have" to be with me because I helped you, or something. Or...' Mia snorted, laughing at herself. 'The fuck am I even saying? You're barely able to think straight again, and here I am with this bullshit. Like my teasing isn't enough.'

'I don't mind that,' I blurted out, unknowingly sealing my fate. 'And...it's not because of that. I am grateful, yes, but...I think we should give it a chance. Being grateful is as good a basis as any.'

'You asked for it,' she said in mock warning, sitting down on the edge of my bed. My room-cell, really-was covered in crosses, metal, carved and painted alike, in case the strigoi went crazy again and ARC had to keep me contained before they out me down.

They were far more busy fending off the pantheons these days, though, when they weren't working together to heal Yggdrasil. Several gods wanted me dead (and Loki hadn't gotten over his children's deaths at my-Chernobog's-hands, not that I could blame him; I should've never been so damned stupid as to be made into that bastard's sock puppet) so working for them, and I'd even gotten some marriage threats-er, offers. Odin had proposed having me on loan, as an advisor and liaison between Asgard and ARC. The division Heads, and the Directorial Council, the faceless black suits overseeing each country of the Global Gathering ARC operated in, were still discussing that idea. But, before that...

'So,' Mia smiled, pushing my covers aside with one hand, the other grabbing my hair as she leaned forward so she could look into my eyes-scarlet with black slits, boring into my once-black, now blank, ivory orbs. 'Kissing?'

'It's a start.'