Though Letty Kathaldri wanted to watch the world burn, she never would have guessed it would have burned like this, pouring gasoline on its own flames, and on national TV, to boot.

Letty’s eyes were glued to the screen of the console mounted on the metal arm she’d swung over her bed. The other freaks were freaking out—they didn’t call them freaks for no reason, did they?—but Letty didn’t give a shit. She was having the time of her life. Most of them seemed to be watching the fiasco on their own consoles, and Letty couldn’t blame them.

It was fucking magnetic.

To enhance the drama, Letty had activated the console’s split-screen feature. The right half of the screen showed the footage from VOL’s cameras; the left half gave the feed from the cameras built around the Melted Palace’s grand balcony—the Lassedite’s Balcony.

In one corner, stood Marlon Bishop, 288th Lassedite, old, crotchety, and halfway rotted, and—apparently—also a faggot.

If her parents had still been alive, the revelation would have probably given them aneurysms.

In the other corner: a scaly monster the color of fermented piss had just landed on the ground after floating into the Grand Basilica, with a tail writhing behind him, and with the Hummingbird Robe draped over the inhuman, serpentine axis at the center of his form.

The best part? The fucker had just called himself Lassedite Verune.

Though Letty hated the sound of her body’s voice, she couldn’t help squeal with delight at the ludicrous turn of events.

And she was loving every second of it.

The Melted Palace’s basilica was filled with people—or, whatever version of being “filled with people” it could get in the middle of a world-ending plague. Bystanders scattered back as the interloper waddled forward. And the freak wasn’t alone. He stood at the head of a parade of demons—Norm after Norm. It was a cavalcade of horrors: limping bodies with rotting legs and bulging tails; freakish creatures that were half-man half-snake; golden eyes glowing in faces that breathed out churning, whorls of gossamer green snow. They walked and slither, unholy and proud, cresting tall above the crowd.

All the Norms followed Verune. Letty knew from personal experience that they must have had real hankerings for a meal, and she could see the evidence dribbling onto the pavement. Several of the partial wyrms salivated as they stared at the crowd. Plumes of smoke wafted up from the ground as their drool ate away at the pavement.

Having secured everyone’s attention in the coolest way imaginable, Verune spoke. “Good day everyone,” he said, in a calm, refined demeanor that was still loud enough to be heard across the Basilica.

Neat trick, Letty thought.

“Do not be shocked,” Verune continued. “I spoke truly. I am Mordwell Verune, the former 250th Lassedite of the One, True, Resurrected Angelical Lasseditic Church.”

Raising his lacertine head, Verune looked up at Lassedite on the balcony, and then bowed.

“Greetings, Brother Marlon, my troubled successor.”

Letty clapped her hands together in delight. She didn’t know if this guy was who he said he was, nor did she care—though it would be pretty crazy (in a good way) if he was the lost Lassedite. To Letty, what mattered most was that he had style, and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it.

“What are you?” Lassedite Bishop said. There was horror in his eyes.

“I am who I am,” the monster replied, “no more, no less. If you doubt me, and if my robes are not proof enough…” He rummaged through his garment. “…look upon what once was lost.”

The monster pulled an object out of his robe and lifted it up above his head. If Letty squinted, she could just barely make out its general shape. It was a piece of metal, big and bulky. Had it been any smaller, she probably wouldn’t have been able to see it.

“That’s impossible!” someone shouted.

“My child,” Verune said, bowing slightly as he turned toward the sound, “with God, nothing is impossible.”

“He speaks the truth,” Bishop said.

Gasps rippled across the crowd once more, this time in awe—and also in Room 268, too. Most of the people who weren’t running away stopped screaming, and save for the wyrms’ polyphonic rumbles, the Basilica was dead silent.

Letty cackled with glee.

Up on the Balcony, Lassedite Bishop stood firm. “The world is dark and full of wonders,” he said, looking solemn and misty-eyed. “He is one of them.”

It was so quiet, you could hear a fucking pin drop.

Bishop closed his eyes. “Yesterday morning, my secretary informed me a miracle had occurred: the Lost Lassedite had returned to us. I do not doubt him.” Opening his eyes, the Lassedite pointed at Verune. “That object in his hand is the Key of the Faith, a secret treasure of the Church, lost since Verune’s disappearance. It unlocked the secret chamber where the Sword was stored, first in the Melted Palace, and later in the Imperial Palace. It was passed down from Lassedite to Lassedite. Athelmarch’s successor was the first to hold it. Verune was the last.” Bishop started to cry. “All my life, I asked for a sign, and when I finally get one, it comes after I’d lost all hope.” He shook his head. “Disbelieve me if you want, but… whatever credibility I still have as the head of the Church, I stake it on these next words.” Wiping his tears, he pointed at Verune. “The creature standing before us now is Mordwell Verune, come unstuck in time.”

“Holy fucking shit…” Letty muttered.

It was the greatest piece of television Letty had ever seen—the greatest showdown in the history of forever—and it was making her positively drool with excitement. She flexed her fingers in anticipation. Her right hand had turned into a set of three-fingered, purple-scaled claws. Skin-wrapped husks of human digits broke free from her hands and fell onto her bedsheets. She picked them up like jacks and tossed them into her mouth.

Crunchy, she thought.

“He speaks the truth,” one of the wyrms said. “He is the 250th Lassedite, sent forward in time by the Angel’s will.”

“Why are you here, Lassedite Verune?” Bishop asked. The voice of the 288th Lassedite was like a reed about to snap.

It looked like the next gust of wind would blow him away.

“I am the Angel’s Chosen,” Verune said, raising his monstrous arms to the midday sky. “The Last Days have come. The Godhead brought me to this era to guide the faithful to Paradise.” Slowly, he turned around, facing the stupefied onlookers. “Brothers… sisters…” he said, “I bring you the Angel’s final gospel: the Last Church. It is the fulfillment of all that has come before.”

He gestured at his serpentine followers with his claws. “The Green Death is a winnowing. It separates the wheat from the chaff. Some, like myself, have been infused with the Hallowed Beast’s divine power: we have been blessed with the Change. Know this, friends: the Changed have come to pass judgment. We are mirrors for your souls.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Once again, he stretched his arms to the sky.

“At the dawn of creation, the Moonlight Queen laid down the Law of Truth and Nature, inscribing them upon the Tablets of Destiny. She set the Good aside from the Evil, and the Evil from the Good. Good will be Good, by any name, as surely as Evil will be Evil. You who stand before us now, know that what you see in us is but your own soul, reflected. The righteous will see our glory, and know us for what we truly are, but the damned see only monsters.”

Murmurs and cries shot through the crowd.

“You have nothing to fear,” Verune said, looking up at Bishop. “The Angel will know His own.”

“What do you intend to do, O Lassedite of the Last Church?” Bishop asked, softly. His words cracked on his microphones’ edges.

“The end of the beginning,” Verune replied, “and the start of Eternity.” Verune flicked his tail as he slowly spun around. “To all my fellow Changelings: relinquish your fears. The time for fear has passed. You are beautiful. Come, come to the Melted Palace.” He spread his arms wide. “The Last Church welcomes you with open arms. Here, you will find your answers, and your purpose will be fulfilled.”

Letty’s good humor suddenly thickened and grew heavy, and she felt something she thought she’d never feel again: awe. This world was a cesspit, and its people were scum. All good things faded or decayed. Everything was broken and ruined—herself most of all.

But Verune…?

People who had been drawn in by his words scattered back as Verune rose up off the ground and flew up into the air until he hovered high above the Basilica with his eyes level with Bishop’s.

“Rejoice, brothers and sisters!” he yelled, full of sacred joy. “The Godhead has gifted you with the greatest honor. You are being transformed to serve a new and holy purpose. You are Divine Beasts,” he said. “It is your duty to smite the wicked and save the righteous. Come, join me. Join us. Embrace the majesty you have been given.”

His words struck Letty at her core.

He continued: “The Last Church will guide you. We will lead you to glory. This world is dead, and is being swept away. But, worry not, Paradise is nigh, and we shall lead the way.”

Letty stared at her hands. Her fucking skeleton hands. Scale-patched skin drooped from her limbs like rotten leather.

And she wept.

“I am beautiful…” she muttered.

For the first time since waking up a prisoner of her own body—ugly, unloved, hateful, and hated—Letty felt… seen.

Floating near to the balcony, Verune bowed midair. “I thank you for your service, brother,” he said. “It is my honored pleasure to tell you that your work is complete. Lassedicy is fulfilled. Our work is, at last, accomplished. Judgment will be delayed no longer. The old Church fades away, for something wonderful is about to be born.”

As Letty looked around the room, it was as if she was seeing the place for the first time.

Seeing its inhabitants for the first time.

Before, she hadn’t cared whether they were monsters or demons, she’d thought it was the same bullshit either way. Life was just pointlessness and misery. That was why she’d been so angry.

For as long as she could remember, Letty Kathaldri had known, from the deepest corners of her guts, that her life was fated to be a glorious one. Prestige and fame were her birthrights. That’s why her coma had made no sense to her. Why would someone destined for greatness get ripped out of it just as they were coming into their prime?

Angel, I’ve been such an idiot, she thought.

The answer was obvious: they wouldn’t.

All her anger? All her suffering and torment? It was all to prepare her for this.

I’m a fucking Divine Beast, she thought. The Angel Himself chose me!

Ever since awakening from her dreamless hell, Letty wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. But now, she knew, that wasn’t just a wild fancy. It was her purpose.

Everyone who ever doubted her? Everyone who ever scoffed at her or gave her a look, or put her down or hurt the people she held dear?

They were scum. Like, at the cosmic level.

“Why didn’t I realize it before?” she muttered.

She’d been wasting the first week of her second life watching the news, learning about how fucked up the world had gotten while she’d been away.

It was selfish of her.

Well, fuck that, she thought.

Then and there—a legless corpse tucked underneath her covers of an antique hospital bed—Letty resolved to go to the Melted Palace and join Verune and the Last Church.

“All my life, I wanted to smite all the unworthy little shits,” she said, muttering under her breath.

She’d just been too good of a person not to—even if doing it was the right thing to do.

What kind of asshole wouldn’t smite people who were due for a good smiting?

Not Letty fucking Kathaldri, she thought. Not anymore.

Letty smiled as she realized she was about to get her cake and eat it, too. She’d get to burn the world down herself, all while paving the way for Paradise to rise from its ashes.

Letty turned her attention from Verune on the right half of the screen back to Lassedite Bishop on the left half. She was somewhat surprised by the look on his face. For all his whining about not being able to believe in God, she’d expected he’d prostrate himself before Verune, overcome with awe.

But he wasn’t doing that. Instead, there was a wistful calmness to his face. Tears dripped down his pasty, wrinkled cheeks, following the paths of black lightning that sprawled beneath his eyes.

With a shaky nod, Lassedite Bishop wiped his tears on the sleeves of his Hummingbird Robe.

“I’m glad that you’re here, Mordwell,” he said. “For so long… I… I have been afraid. I was lost.” He shuddered, weeping afresh. “But, now I know. Now… I know.” Smiling faintly, he looked toward the horizon. “Now I know I never knew at all,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Lassedite Bishop softly clapped his hands together. He held them that way, pressed together, palm against palm.

“I agree with you, Verune,” he said, with renewed resolve. “Lassedicy has ended.” He lowered his head. “As we acknowledge its passing, let us pray.”

Verune did the same, as did many in the crowd.

But not all. Not all.

“Let us pray for a faith worthy of prayer,” Bishop said. “We pray for a light in the darkness, and for a song to fill the silence. We pray for a new day, filled with smiles… even if it never comes. And we pray for kindness. Above all else, we pray for kindness. Give us the courage to die as fools, before we become the agents of others’ cruelties.”

He raised his head toward the sky.

“The dear earth everywhere blossoms in spring, growing green and anew. Forever blue is the horizon, everywhere, forever.” Shaking his head, he gazed off into the distance. “I only wish I’d found it sooner,” he added. “Perhaps then my hope would have been stronger.”

Swallowing, the 288th Lassedite lowered his head in solemnity.

“Dark is life,” he whispered. “Dark is death.”

Then Lassedite Marlon Bishop threw himself over the balustrade. Voices rose as the Lassedite fell, and then splattered on the pavement below.

“Goodbye, brother,” Verune said, softly. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

Letty turned to her head to face the other transformees.

“Hey,” she said.

They respond by staring at her in shock.

Letty pointed with a claw. “Hey, you,” she said, “‘Demptist Jr.”

Lopé turned his head.

“Did you hear that?” she said. “The Godhead has a mission for us. We shouldn’t be fuckin’ locked up in here. We’ve got sinners to smite.”

“Yes,” Lopé nodded, “we do.”

Across the room, Kurt spoke up. “What the Hell are you talking about?” he said, lashing out with his tail. “Can’t you tell that guy is nuts? I don’t care if he is the Lost Lassedite; Lassedite Bishop just killed himself, and Verune just stands there!”

“Technically,” Lopé said, “he was floating,”

Kurt shook his head. “No, you don’t get it! Angel, what if kids were watching that? They’d be terrified!”

“There are a lot of reasons to be terrified right now,” Bethany said.

Clenching his three-fingered fist, Kurt lowered his head in dismay. “I wish—”

“—Wishes won’t get you anywhere, buddy,” Letty said, interrupting him.

“You don’t have kids, Ms. Kathaldri,” Kurt replied, briefly meeting eyes with Maryon. “You don’t know what it’s like to have them, and want to be there for them, but not be.”

“Keep dreaming, buddy,” Letty said. “They’re not gonna let you talk to your family. That was part of the deal, remember? Lock and key, hush hush.” She scoffed. “The doctors have no fucking clue about how to help us. I mean, look what happened to old lady Elbock.” Letty shook her head. “I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of rotting. I spent my whole life waiting. I was a rotting corpse in a room with a view. I’d like to do something more productive with my time.”

“We can’t leave,” Valentine said. “Remember what Dr. Howle told us?”

“Fuck that bow-tie wearing faggot,” Letty said, with a dismissive wave of her claw. “He’s the one keeping us locked in here.” She pointed at the others. “You, lady?” she said, gesturing at Maryon, “You think your son’s still alive? Not a chance. He’s fuckin’ dead, and the doctors didn’t let you see him before he died, so you lost your chance. ‘Demptist Jr.?” Letty glanced at Lopé. “You’re not gonna see your sister again. Her and your family are long gone. We’re all stuck here, and time’s running out.” She nodded. “You all heard the man: these are the Last Days.”

Kurt stared, despondent.

Serves you right, Letty thought, you fuckin’ goody-two-shoes.

“If you let others walk all over you,” she said, “you’re dooming yourself to a small, sad little life. Are you gonna let the scum do that to you? You’re turning into a divine beast, Kurt. Start acting like one.”

“Well, what would you suggest we do, Ma’am?” Lopé asked.

Glancing at the console screen over her bed, Letty saw that Verune had flown to the ground, where he was eating Bishop’s corpse for lunch.

Turning back to face the others, she grinned. “I got a couple of ideas…”