An hour passed, then two. When the third hour dawned without any sign of the scouts, Jasper began to fear the worst, but just as he was about to spring into action, the three missing Moon-kissed turned down their street.

Jasper waited anxiously as they wound their way through the crowd. “Well,” he called out. “Are they expecting us?”

“Nope!” The young Djinn shook his head triumphantly. “There’s definitely people there, but they weren’t on the lookout for us. Didn’t see us, either.”

It was good news, but also confusing. “Then what took so long?”

“Well,” the lad pulled his helmet off and scratched behind his ear. “Like I said, there weren’t even any guards posted. They were paying so little attention that we thought it just had to be a trap, so we kept waiting and waiting, but never saw any signs of a lookout. I guess they reckon they’re safe, my lord.”

“And they’re probably right,” Rā’imu cut in. “The reputation of Naḫas̆s̆innu is well known in Dūr-Yarha. The Nizirtū don’t leave its depths and we don’t enter them. Even the most desperate of criminals wouldn’t take refuge in there, lest they run afoul of the dead gods.”

A shiver ran down Jasper’s spine as the creature’s unearthly shriek echoed in his mind, but he suppressed it and flashed the group a smile he didn’t really feel. “Unfortunately for them, we’re more desperate.” Turning his attention back to the scout, he asked one more question. “Any feel for how many of them there were?”’

The young man started to shake his head, but one of the other scouts, an older gentleman with a touch of grey in his beard, spoke up. “I don’t know how many are in the complex right now, my lord, but there’s at least three hundred and forty-eight of them.”

“Three hundred and forty-eight? That’s an awfully specific number.” It’s an awfully large number, too, he thought privately to himself. Suddenly his army of Moon-kissed felt frightfully outnumbered. And they have a god on their side. Or at least, sort of one.

The older scout shrugged. “It’s a hunting skill, my lord. Let’s me see every unique track in the snow. Granted, I’ve never had it give me such a high number before, but it’s never failed me in the past.”

Jasper thanked the man and waited until the scouts had rejoined the rest of the troops before turning to his friends. “Three hundred and forty-eight is…a lot,” he said slowly. “If you don’t want to go, I’d understand.”

“Is there anyone else we could turn to,” Ihra asked.

He thought about it for a moment, then reluctantly shook his head. “My uncle might be willing lend us some troops, but it would take weeks to get there and back. I don’t know if they have that long.”

“And even if they do,” Rā’imu added, “I don’t think my elders would be willing to lend our aid for that long. They honor their favors, but no favor is unlimited.”

“Forget the numbers,” Nēs̆u butted in. “Sure, the numbers aren’t in our favor, but most of these cultists are probably low-leveled chaff. How many men can you kill with a single one of your Sacred Stars, Jasper? Ten? No,” he shook his head resolutely, “the numbers never mattered. The real threats are Yas̆gah and the dead gods, and that was never a battle we were likely to win.”

Jasper frowned. “Do you think it’s hopeless?”

The Sicyan shrugged. “It should be, but you’ve received other visions from the Anzuzu, haven’t you? Visions of a time after this battle.”

“Yeah,” Jasper admitted.

“The Anzuzu are rarely wrong. Sure, there’s a few people who manage to escape their fate, but their visions usually come true. I don’t see how we win this battle, but if the Anzuzu foresee your future, then there must be a way.”

“And that way would be me.” The group started as an unknown voice broke into their conversation. And there, right before their eyes, a man simply phased into existence, like he’d been beamed up by Scotty.

The dude looked like an NFL quarterback, albeit one that could also moonlight as a model. He had short, curly blonde hair and blue eyes that might have been described as piercing if it wasn’t for the good-natured grin on his face. He was a bit taller than most, and his body rippled with a muscle mass that few outside of dedicated bodybuilders sported, but what was perhaps the most surprising about him was that he looked completely and totally human. How the hell did he even get into the province? Jasper immediately realized the question was a stupid one - the dude could phase, after all.

“So you’re the way? The rest of your name wouldn’t be the truth and life, would it?” Jasper joked nervously, and perhaps a bit blasphemously.

The man’s grin widened. “As a matter of fact…” he paused dramatically and then began to laugh. “No, I’m not. But you can think of me as your own personal savior on this mission.” Stepping forward, he offered Jasper his hand. “You can call me Ivan,” he introduced himself.

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Jasper’s eyes narrowed as he shook the man’s hand. That’s not a Corsythian name, and Corsythians don’t shake hands. “So, Ivan, what world are you from,” he asked casually. “And where exactly did you come from just now?

“Ah, you caught on to that, did you?” The man shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. I came from Earth, just like you.”

“Who told you I was from Earth?”

The blonde smirked. “Hold your horses, Jasper. You haven’t even given me the chance to answer your second question. As for how I got here, I suppose ‘phase’ is a perfectly good word. I’m afraid there's no Scotty waiting to scoop me up, however.”

Can he read my thoughts? Jasper stared at the man uncertainly. “Why would you want to help us?”

The man’s grin didn’t waver. “Does Superman need a reason to save one?”

“Are you saying your Clark Kent,” Jasper countered. “I’m sure you can understand, Ivan, why I’d be wary of accepting help from a total stranger. Why would you help us? How do I know you aren’t with the Brotherhood?”

Ivan’s face sobered. “Suffice it to say I have a vested interest in the outcome. If you’re really concerned, you can always ask Kas̆ about me.”

He calls her Kas̆? Before he had a chance to respond, the man continued on.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t actually need your permission to help you out. I just thought I’d swing by and introduce myself so when you see me you don’t waste your essence trying to kill me. Focus on the cultists, Jasper, and leave the dead gods to me.”

The man’s body began to phase out again, starting from his legs and proceeding up toward his head. But he paused when his body was half gone. “Oh, and one more thing. The next time you see me, I might be a tad larger. But don’t worry - it’s still just little ol’ me.” The man laughed as the rest of his body phased out of existence.

A moment of stunned silence passed between the four of them. “Okay, what the hell was that?” Jasper finally blurted out.

“I think…” Nēs̆u spoke almost hesitantly. “I think that might have been a Sidhe.”

“A Sidhe?” Ihra’s eyes narrowed. “But the Sidhe are evil. Why would they help us?”

“Not all of them,” Jasper pointed out. “And besides, isn’t the answer obvious? Tsia is descended from a Sidhe. If that really was a Sidhe, maybe it’s her ancestor.”

Ihra scowled. “How are we supposed to trust one of those things?”

Jasper shrugged. “Who says we have to? But unless you have some pretty big tricks hidden up your sleeve, I don’t really see how we can stop a being who can phase in and out of reality from tagging along.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I don’t like it.”

Jasper wasn’t quite so sure he agreed with her, though. If a quasi-god wanted to lend them a hand, he was more than willing to accept the help. And after a brief discussion, the four decided there was no point in putting off the mission any further: it was time to march on Naḫas̆s̆innu.

It did not take long to reach their destination, and when they did, Jasper was once again blown away by how impressive it was.The portal to Naḫas̆s̆innu, a monolithic pale-grey tower that rose above the city slums, was as grand as he’d remembered.Even though its glory days were long behind it and most of its windows were shattered and cracked, there were few other buildings in the city that could hope to compete with the sheer force of its presence.The building was large enough to house a small town with room to spare, and he could only imagine how magnificent it must have been before its abandonment.

Jasper’s eyes wandered to the twin statues guarding the site, strange beings that looked like humans mixed with animalistic features; one had the head of a hawk, a snake clutched tight in its talon-like feet while the other had the horns of a deer wreathed with moss. Did something like that really exist? He certainly hadn’t met any hawk-headed humanoids, but he supposed it wasn’t any more outlandish than anything else he’d encountered. Probably did, he decided. Realizing he was allowing himself to be distracted, he shook his head and refocused his thoughts.

The group approached the compound’s gates slowly, expecting to be attacked by enemies at any moment, but the courtyard that surrounded the building was dead silent.They entered cautiously, scanning the perimeters for any sign of danger, but it lay completely empty.

There were signs of life, however. A thick layer of snow covered the abandoned gardens that stretched on either side of the entrance, but the path that led to the thick, iron-rimmed doors had been trampled down by into a solid sheet of muddied-brown ice, supporting the scout’s reports. And if there had been any doubt that the building was once again inhabited, it was thoroughly shattered when the doors burst open.

Four Djinn shuffled out of the door, cradling between them a long, pine sepulcher.The two in the front, who were slowly walking backwards didn’t see the small army waiting by the gates, but the other two certainly did.With cries of alarm, the two cultists dropped their end of the coffin on the hard ice and turned to run.

The other two, confused by the compatriots’ reactions, quickly twisted their heads around to see what was happening. A loud crack filled the air as the pine box smashed into the ground and its flimsy side splintered, releasing an overweight and very pasty corpse to spiral across the ice. The remaining two cultists ignored the corpse of their brethren and, slipping and sliding, raced after their friends.

It was only a few steps back to the entrance, but none of them made it that far. With a twist of his fingers, Jasper released Sacred Star, and a burst of small orbs shot across the space between them, like a swarm of fiery hornets. He needn’t have bothered, though, as Ihra and a good dozen or so of the Moon-kissed archers released their own fire. Within seconds, the four fleeing cultists had joined their friend on the icy turf, and the muddy ice was further stained by a deep red.

Unfortunately, there was nothing silent about their encounter. Before the last of the bodies had hit the ground, a half-dozen more cultists ran into view of the entrance. The archers quickly shifted their aim, but more and more swarmed into view and Jasper realized where they were headed. Breaking into a run, he raced for the door, followed by the Moon-kissed warriors, but the brotherhood made it their first.

With a heavy thud, the mighty iron-rimmed doors slammed shut, followed quickly thereafter by a faint ripple in the air as Ihra’s arrow ricocheted away from the door without having ever even touched it. Great. Some sort of barrier.