*Flashback*

Haunting chants echoed around the candlelit chamber. She was led from the preparation chamber by two masked assassins. Her mother and Mac stood in the center of the chamber. An unfamiliar symbol surrounded them. To say she was nervous was nothing short of a gross understatement. No one had told her what the ritual was even for and that scared her. Scratch that, terrified her. It was almost like they didn’t trust her with the information.

Iri didn’t remember much about the ritual. Only that things had gone awry when she’d started screaming. Mac couldn’t complete her part and when Niall had stepped in whatever they were doing backfired. It was 2 long months before she pulled herself out of the abyss her own mother had fed her to. But even though she’d pulled herself back it hadn’t come without a price. The price being the gods and goddesses who now inhabited her. Enyo was created, if one could call summoning a goddess like her creating, to protect Iri from those who inhabited her. All were dangerous, none more so than the goddess who was protecting her.

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Iri stared at Enyo and Alastor. Both were technically gods, yet they inhabited her body and used it at their will. Oddly enough, Iri was actually rather fond of Enyo. She had protected her from Laochlain more times than she could count. Alastor, on the other hand, she detested and feared but he was not the one she feared the most. That title belonged to Amon and Persis.

Amon wasn’t a god but a demon. A Prince of Hell, meaning he was one of the first angels to fall from grace. He was a terrifying figure, if you ever saw him. He stood at near to 7 feet in height and every inch of his body was nothing but corded muscle. Silver hair sat in a perpetual state of disarray and pale violet eyes regarded everything with feigned indifference. He cared more than he showed but showed less emotion with each passing day.

Persis was known as the destroyer. Yet, she was seen even less than Amon. She stood at just over 5 and a half feet but her sheer presence more than made up for her lack of height. Her hair hung nearly to the floor and was the color of stormy seas. Her eyes were the color of storm clouds and observed everything silently.

Both were almost always near silent and hidden deep within the shadows of the room. It was their silence that made Iri fear the two of them the most. Especially with Amon being a demon and a Prince of Hell at that.

Is there no way for the girl to be free of us? Amon asked from the shadows startling everyone.

It’s possible an exorcism would free you, seeing as you’re a demon but then again it might not because you’re a Prince of Hell. Also, I don’t know what ritual my mother used to summon all of you. Iri replied not taking her eyes off of Alastor.

What purpose could she have had in summoning all of us, I wonder. Amon mused.

My mother’s motives are as much a mystery to me as they are to you. Perhaps you should ask her the next time I see her. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to meet you.

Iri knew she was probably provoking him but it seemed like the best way to get answers from her mother that weren’t cryptic riddles within riddles.

You seem to not like your mother, Amon stated moving into the light at last.

I lost all respect for her after she told that bastard where to find me 12 years ago, she spat turning to face him. You remember what happened, don’t you Enyo? She glanced at the goddess briefly. Enyo nodded once. Bastard gave me these in the hopes that I would give him information. She fingered a few of the scars on her face. I gave him nothing.

He would have done worse had I not taken over, Enyo snapped.

Iri nodded and suppressed a shiver. She hated remembering that particular incident.

Laochlain’s men dragged her from Alcyone’s bleeding body.

No! She screamed. Let me go! I have to kill her! I promised her I would! I promised! I promised!

She kicked and struggled and screamed but nothing she did freed her from their grasp.

Eventually, they dragged her before Laochlain himself.

She didn’t give you much trouble did she? He asked them.

The bitch bit me! One exclaimed.

The punch echoed through the empty room. The man grunted in pain and stumbled backwards.

Care to add anything? Laochlain asked the second man who had been holding her.

She put up a good fight, the other said hesitantly. We tried to keep her from hurting herself but I think she dislocated her shoulder and possibly hurt herself more than she’s showing us.

Laochlain was silent for a long moment. Then he turned to her.

Oh she’ll be showing pain before too long, that I can guarantee you.

Laochlain was nothing short of sadistic when it came to her punishment for not answering his questions. He started by cutting her Achilles’ tendons. When that failed to draw a reaction from her he moved to her knees. First, he cut the tendons. When that failed to get a rise out of her, he drove old iron railroad spikes through her knee caps. All she did was grunt. This just pissed Laochlain off more. Iri had never been more grateful for the few lessons her torture teacher, a former KGB agent, had taught her before all of this. He’d be proud of her. Laochlain was livid at her ability to take pain so he started beating her. He started with his fists, then moved to harder objects. When she finally passed out it was a welcome reprieve. But it was short lived. He was there when she woke, knife in hand. This became their routine. For six weeks, two hellish months, all he did was torture her for information. Sometimes he would used old wounds he’d made and sometimes he’d make new ones. By the time she summoned Enyo, her face was a mess of lacerations and dried blood. The day Enyo took over was the day her uncles and sister came to rescue her. When Mac burst into the room, Laochlain had just hit her. He’d conveniently forgotten about the knife in his hand, so her face was dripping blood from a new laceration as well as her split lip.

Laochlain had turned white when he’d heard Enyo speaking from her body. That had made both of them laugh. What had made them laugh more was what happened after that.

You’re going to have to do better than that if you want her to talk, old man, Enyo told him. In the mean time, you get to play with me and hope your knots hold.

My knots will hold, Laochlain snapped when he’d recovered his composure.

That’s when they sprung from the chair and wrapped a hand around his throat.

Oh really now? I beg to differ, old man.

She lifted him up off the ground. You are done torturing her for information on her mother. Surely you realize by now that she will tell you nothing no matter how much you hurt her. Surely you see that no amount of pain can make her talk. Besides, she holds no love for her mother.

Yet she refuses to tell me anything?!? He choked out.

Enyo had cocked her head, Is that a question or a statement? Because as a question it should have an obvious answer. While there is no love lost between mother and daughter, she would never do anything to jeopardize her place within the Assasssins.

Her Uncle Romulus had knocked her unconscious not long after that.

Fingers snapping in front of her face brought her out of the memory. She turned to the owner of said fingers, ready to lay into whoever it was. That is until she saw it was Amon who had pulled her from the memory.

You were reliving the past, he told her.

Iri sighed and scrubbed her face.

Hard not to sometimes, she replied quietly.

Amon nodded, Be glad your past is not as lengthy as ours.

It feels that way some days.

I’m sure it does.

You know Amon, this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. We should talk more often. Perhaps I can learn from your experience.