54

(Seven Lions, Mija- Never Learn

Vetia

Every dull creak of the house sent panic rushing through me as I sat motionless in the firelight. All of this happened because of me. I brought death into Montak’s home. Montak and Lotti laid silently, asleep in their beds recovering. As much as I could fix their bodies and restore some blood, I was still beyond fatigued from it. I just had to hope the healing would be enough for them to recover. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.

Seeing them alive was all I needed. If they were alive, I still had a chance to end all of this right. And so I silently sat beside them, wiping the blood from their bodies. Tears were still streaming down my expressionless face. I didn’t know what was causing my tears more; the fear that they may not wake up, or the distant sensation of Fera being slowly eaten alive by farns. I thought I’d finished her off, but she was alive for a long time. I didn’t feel anything for her. She earned everything she’d gotten.

Everything hurt so bad. My head felt like it was going to burst from how much jzanmah I had used fixing Lotti and Montak, but if I went out to the barn to drink farn blood, I’d be right next to Fera. I couldn’t endure the sensation of dying so close to me again. No matter how much I wanted to end the torment, I couldn’t bring myself close enough to experience her emotions so directly.

The snowstorm raged all night after Adam disappeared. My fight wasn’t over. I still had to ensure Montak and Lotti wouldn’t be caught in any more crossfire. Diona wanted me to go back to being dead, and Fera fucked it up. If Fera didn’t come back, she was sure to send somebody else to clean up the mess, to this house.

I sat still all night, glaring at the door and spinning Fera’s dagger in my hands. Once morning came, I raised the dagger to my head and began shaving off my hair. Gone with the gold and glamor of Diona’s whorehouse. A perk of being a fireblood was that regrowing hair was quick and didn't take much out of me. But still, I could only grow it to my neck before that fireblood peckishness returned.

“She’s the last one. Diona. If we cannot kill her, she will kill us. She will learn of Fera’s death. We need to go now, kill her before she knows Fera is dead and we are her enemy.”

“She already knows I’m her enemy. And I’m not abandoning these two until I know they’re safe.”

“We are not abandoning them. We are ensuring they will be safe from Diona.”

“Fera only got them because I was out killing Simira. Fuck me, I don’t even remember what happened after I killed her. I just came back to my senses and I was next to Adam with all the money. What the fuck happened?! Why can’t I remember?!”

“You don’t need to remember. I took care of us. I always prioritize our life. You don't need to worry.”

I just needed a break, something to take my mind off of it. My hands jittered and searched through my bag, settling on a leatherbound book. Simira’s journal. Maybe there’d be some information about what was going on with that plan. I flipped open the first page:

I do not give this record of my enemy to you out of kindness, but necessity for the preservation of my species. There is an ideological invasion of our people to reduce every man, woman, and child to livestock. Existential erasure of all we are. There is no plot, no grand scheme. Only a timeless teacher and generations of students carrying out her lessons in the positions which rule us. I know I cannot undo what has been in play for eons, but I also cannot simply do nothing. This is a burden, a war that may span countless generations if it ever ends at all. Should you wish to live your life free of this knowledge, I do not blame you. Close this journal now and never open it again. Give it to someone who can carry this burden and free us from her whispers.

I still yearn for my own innocence. But in seeking truth, in seeking wisdom, we must abandon innocence. She is the perversion of truth, wisdom, and innocence. She is the annihilation of hope. We must first understand that hope does not exist in the mind of true evil. Evil operates on logic. A logic that can only be learned over the course of eons. She believes herself to be a goddess, a being greater than any mortal who ever lived. Going to war against her is futile, but we have no more options.

If you read further, she will plague your mind unless you submit or end her. Until then, you will never be truly free.

I turned the page.

She is Fehle. A name that can only be properly spoken in a whisper. A name whose utterance is a curse upon the speaker. A word intended to destroy the meaning of all words. Timeless and ever-present. Eternal release from mortal struggle. Pleasure in concept, but oblivion in truth. She is everywhere. She preys on us because she knows our natures better than we can ever hope to, for she has studied us over countless generations, waging war against all of mortal creation, with only one known loss. I know this for a fact. She told me everything.

I was her protege, her record keeper. Though her current alias is Diona, she has raised me to be both her upending and her successor, but she does not know the depth of my cunning. She does not know that I am always searching for people to join me in opposing her. She does not know the sacrifices I have made to eliminate all facets of pleasure from my life to strengthen myself for when she finally converts me. I will use everything she taught me and she will take my life once I have shown my intentions. I will fail. I cannot be saved. I will become the enemy of all I sought to save, and I only have until I lose sight of my humanity as a fireblood. Her gaze extends endlessly in my domain. Into my very mind. She knows everything I can and will do because I am only one in a line of opposition whose plans she has erased from history. My only hope to win is for you to preserve this profane knowledge in the full light of the sun. But she and her followers are prepared for you, so you must act in the shadows, as she once did before making her glorious ascent to snuff the light. She cannot know you are her opposition, else you will have lost as I did. You must fully understand her doctrine to ensure her ruin.

Twas the day I pledged myself heiress to the Viscount. I was twelve winters old. She instructed me through sonic records in a voice which I’d never before heard. This was her first lesson, her introduction to her heinous mastery of subjugation. The more I gradually learned, the less human I felt. Knowing how to manipulate and deceive with such ease taints the soul with true dread unknowable to those untouched. Her curse is knowing she exists. Her knowledge is a product of us. In a way, we created her to be our undoing. For that, by that, we will never be free of her, even if she is defeated.

“It's incredible what giving will do for you. I awoke on the ashen continent, long before today’s idea of civilization was established, long before the land was ashen. The lonsu were dominant in the south, where I arose. I despise those things, but they are not all that distant from the jorlad, actually. Back then, there was little separating them from jorlad save for the scales. Their half breeds could still bear children, and they intermingled quite often. My first kill was when I initially woke as a fireblood, when a group of lonsu men were burying me. I rose from my shallow grave, borne of pure bloodlust. I slaughtered the three of them, reveling in the power granted by my monstrous adaptations. There is something so divine… so purely animalistic in consuming the soul of another creature. As if every taken life is a glimpse of godhood where my own lost soul is the prize. That desire clutched my mind from the start. I know I once experienced emotions alongside other creatures, but I lost those with my previous life. Regretfully, I did not chronicle my life before. Those memories were too distant, but I made notes shortly after becoming a fireblood. And some things, no matter how damaged I was, never left.

Apparently, I ran a rookery. I was like a mother to those birds, and they loved me. Though I never found my home to return to my flock. I presume they fled when the defending men were all slaughtered like animals, when I and the countless other innocent women from my home were brutalized, dragged away, and restrained atop a stone temple while the people cheered and prayed. I was the first woman to be sacrificed. In their ceremonious ways, all 144 of the priests raped me, then I was scalped and skinned alive, finally I was forcefed sap and milk, which they then doused me in so I was eaten alive by pests while they preserved me using jzanmah, all in a dear attempt to appease their wrathful weather god. It’s harrowing, how time becomes so horrifyingly extended while wriggling creatures consume your flesh as if you’re a living corpse, lying in a pool of your own feces and blood, which in turn spawns the filthiest of creatures to feed upon you. It was as if I had a glimpse of this brutal eternity before I took eternity for myself. But a rookery… it’s quite fitting for where I am now, isn’t it?

I cannot explain how to subjugate a species as intelligent as yours without creating a foundation for understanding the psychology and behavior of simpler animals, because that is ultimately the goal. I’ve reduced countless species, even to the point of them all killing themselves out of despair. There is much trial and error, but failure compounds into eventual success.

I will begin my lessons with an early test group. The vyt. Named for the sounds they make when they bite and burrow into flesh, ravenous little things that evolved to reduce entire animals to bone in minutes if there were enough of them. But they didn’t do it until I conditioned them to. They died out simply because they had nothing left to consume. However their effects on the landscape, the creatures, the environment itself, are all still present.

It began in a drought. I wandered a dry desert in the far east of that continent. Blisteringly cold nights and excruciatingly hot days. I’d heard rumors of a village around an oasis. An isolated place, perfect to decimate. But during my travels, these annoying insects would cling to me, feeding on my blood. I didn’t care, because as a fireblood, I regenerated and my body naturally consumed those which crawled in my orifices or tried burrowing into me. They only drank blood back then, but I realized I could use them to my benefit when they began nesting on me, feeding on my blood regularly. I gave them heat and plenty of corpses which they laid their eggs in. I kept them as pets, which grew to a swarm over the years and protected me as a kind of god. I simply walked to the outskirts of houses and villages. I would lurk outside and wait while my swarm infested the town, infecting their blood with diseases so I was free to walk in, feed, and then more of my pets would spawn from the corpses. It changed my entire ability to feed. No longer did I need to hunt. It’s difficult, as a fireblood. Our prey must be alive for us to gain sustenance, and I was not lucky enough to mutate poison. But now, I only needed to approach the crying, begging, deathly ill and consume them. My swarm grew so aggressive that the lonsu fled to the mountains where it was too cold, too high for the swarm to exist. Then after a dodecade, when the vyt evolved to survive the cold, the lonsu fled the continent for good. Rippling changes shot through nature as a result of my creation. Everything became bigger, more dangerous, more hungry, all because the little things were consumed by my swarm.

All I did was give the vyt what they wanted. They wanted blood. They wanted a home. They wanted a place to breed. And I could give them that. The most aggressive ones began dominating the swarm, growing more and more destructive with every generation as they outperformed the more tactile ones. I was evolving them to ravenously kill and reproduce for me and I loved it. Unfortunately, being unthinking creatures, they grew too aggressive and began attempting to consume me. I swam to a colder climate, where they all drowned, froze, or fled. I was quite furious at the time, losing such a valuable asset, but in the end, the difficulty of finding more animals to reign over proved to be more valuable. Again, failure is compounding. Never forget that. I gave them what they wanted, so they evolved to consume more. Unthinking, unparalleled consumption. It's how any species can be subjugated, and they will love every moment of it. Jorlad are no different, but they must first be reduced in mind before they can be reduced in instinct. They’re quite easy to condition into abandoning that mind of theirs, that one defining trait that made them so great- just so long as you have the resources.

I hate your species with every part of my being, but I can’t help finding you all so pitifully adorable. You claim to be wise and knowing animals, but you have never evolved beyond those same things that defiled me. Who still defile each other for their own selfish pleasure and worship those who do. I see it every day in everything you animals do. I vowed that I would never let jorlad, or any species move beyond their base instincts, that I would reduce them to less than that. And I achieved it. Once. Freedom from conflict. Freedom from struggle. Freedom from suffering. Freedom from thought. Unthinking jorlad whose only purpose was servitude, reproducing, food, and their little toys to keep them distracted. They slaughtered the jinian for me, pushed those devout protectors of Rhial into proper submission. That was all the proof I needed to know I can do it again. But only a being with truly vast perception can plan and execute such a ruse… unless I made a doctrine for the generations of slimy, disloyal, selfish jorlad to worship in my favor, even if somebody finds a way to kill me.

Now, I know you will ask why I wish to reduce you things, so I will answer with a question: Why would the people cheer, pray, and cry in a frenzied ecstasy while watching the atrocities I died to if they do not crave such things intrinsically? They still cheer and worship bloodlust, even in this apparent age of wisdom! You, as a jorlad, are closer to wisdom than most others, with the potential to reach my understanding, but even you will fall to your base instincts when tempted and nudged. So long as you are jorlad, falling is a guarantee, which I learned to endlessly exploit. Does a species so disgusting truly deserve a place in this world?

You may also wonder why I do not kill the jorlad. Quite simply, it is because I want the mau to despair at the complete destruction of their efforts in this world. Decimation of their entire ideology before their eyes. This world, your species, all species are disgusting and deserve to be erased to make way for true perfected animals. Soulless beasts of consumption who will take every last thing from this world until it is dust and stone. Until he has nothing left to protect and finally despairs to death. Then I will watch a new world spawn from that end. My world.

You could argue that jorlad will only act as animals if they are raised that way, but who raises them? They raise themselves, obviously. They act like animals. They punish the ones who stand for wisdom. Those who fail to grow and achieve only ever wish to drag the striving ones down with them until they’re all vapid miserable creatures. I’ve observed them over eons and never once have they changed. Up until your ancestors, the inhabitants of Peturi. -laughter- In fact, your ancestors were once my slaves! Ones that I sold to the lonsu so long ago. Do you not believe me? All my proof is in the nose. Modern jorlad have such adorable little noses that wouldn’t exist without the robust-nosed jorlad suffocating in their feed troughs because they were too fat, weak, and gluttonous to raise their heads. It’s like a brand on all of you, one to remind me that all of you are born to be part of my flock.

Truly, I miss those days. Before the ash. Before him. No matter. The jorlad don’t remember, as knowledge, history, language, and thought itself were all dead to the unthinking animals I reduced them to. Though I think there’s something new, instinctual inside of them to resist my temptations, my nudges. They’re growing more resistant as the vyt did. A little more cunning every time. I know you can see my work already if you recall your history. Your lineage was once great, virtuous, and even I respected their defiance. But oh, do I love a challenge and oh, do I have the eternity that they lack! I've stunted their minds through careful, slow, subversive, systematic means. You are the exception, as there will always be exceptions. I give exceptions a choice. Serve or be my opposition. And running is servitude through ignorance. You are one who will oppose me, and then serve me after death. You will learn further in time, but you are young. Such things would frighten and invoke despair in you yet. All you need do is open your eyes to what is directly in front of you, what is distracting you from struggle, and you will see my work. Creatures evolve through hardship, no? Then if I erase struggle, they simplify, and become malleable. If I offer freedom from suffering, why wouldn’t they take it? So why fight when I’m just giving the jorlad what they desire with ease? If you do fight, if you take that mindlessness away, they will become just as ravenous and subservient as the vyt to reclaim the pleasurable, simple, carnal dreams I have given them. It’s so much easier to just give in.

I know you’re defiant listening to this, my little Simira. So tell me, from all you’ve seen and endured, will see and will endure, are the jorlad really worth saving?”

What…?

This journal… these teachings… were made by a fireblood… for a fireblood… for me. These words were dictated by probably the greatest fireblood to ever exist. So why does it disgust and horrify me? Why do the words on this page make me want to burn this book so no others may have such a guide? Why is it so long? How many lessons? How many creatures, people, civilizations did she decimate to accumulate so much data? A book, a guide to lure entire species’ into submission, unbound by morality and ethics, given to me by the only person stubborn enough to resist it. She’s no simple ruler or empress, she’s studied the jorlad as a scientist studies rats over generations of experimentation, perfecting the art of misanthropy. The dedication, the data, is disgustingly admirable.

Why do I salivate at the thought of having free reign over a feeding ground of people? I wouldn’t have to worry about anything else in the entire world. Her words prod at the most base hunger inside of me, enticing me further in. A hunger only another fireblood could know of. A predator instinct so cunning that she masquerades as prey to slowly devolve them, not even to consume. Her goal is eternally distant… but it’s the end of all things. One that I could have a part in, one that she apparently succeeded in creating. This book, if it’s truly a collection of her data, is freedom for me.

I closed the book.

In my existence, which I don’t think will ever end, what matters? I’ll live long past the death of my friends, family if I ever have one, even civilizations. Why wouldn’t I want to create a perfect world for myself? And if this goes deeper, as she says it does, as it apparently will end… then I will learn how to reduce my own species to feeding stock. My own species… are they my own species? Am I still human, or am I just grasping at the idea of humanity because I’m terrified of what I might become otherwise? If I gave in to my nature- if it even is my nature- I could be free of that fear.

…

Why does that thought scare me? Why does that guarantee of eternal loneliness in godhood frighten me? I’d have everything I need and nothing more. Or would it just be me and her? Maybe some others? What would become of such a world? Her work isn’t perfect, though, or else there’d be nothing to save, which means she’s still missing something. Which means there’s a chance that she’s wrong, even if she succeeded before. Something upended her once, and that’s the key. How long is forever if I decide to oppose or aid her? Do I even want to live forever?

My eyes continued to linger blankly, open and unsure of where to go. What to do. Thought raced through my mind faster than I could make sense of. It all made sense. Too much sense and no sense at all.

“Rowena,” Montak rubbed his eyes and gathered his senses. I slid the journal away leaping at the opportunity to put it out of my mind. “Who are you talking to? Where’s Lotti?” He reached his hand out instinctively, rubbing Lotti’s forehead with his thumb.

I didn’t allow myself to look him in the eyes, I couldn’t. “Montak, I-”

Too many apologies and bargains for his forgiveness cluttered my mind. All I could do was talk in a slow and sorry tone while I croaked out tears into my lap.

“I’m so sorry, Montak. I didn’t mean for this to happen to you and Lotti. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you. I didn’t mean to lead her here. I lied about my name and barely said anything so I wouldn’t lead them back to you. I just-”

“Rowena, Rowena!” Montak sat up and grabbed my shoulders. “Are we dead? Did we die, or are we still alive?”

What is he saying? Why is he asking like he doesn’t hate me?

“We’re alive, Rowena, and we’re alive because of you, even if you do blame yourself for leading her back here.” He pulled my head into his chest and wrapped me in a fatherly hug. “Honest to the Heart, I wish I could be mad at you. But I ain’t. You saved us. You saved me. And you saved Lotti a second time. Lotti may not have lived this long without you in the first place. I couldn’t protect her, but you could. It’s my fault.”

The morning light filtered in through the foggy windows, a bright sunny day that dazzled against the crystals of ash and snow blanketing the ground.

“Montak, you were poisoned, there’s nothing you could have done.”

“I should’ve been able to protect her and that’s the bottom line, Rowena.”

“But I shouldn’t have led her back here! I shouldn’t have…” I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Diona at all. I should have just run.

“Shouldn’t have, wouldn’t have.” Montak released me and sternly frowned at me. “You can’t change what you can’t change, but you can make it right. And you already have. You saved my daughter without thinking. Done it twice now. You ain’t a bad person if you make a mistake, you’re a bad person if you don’t own it.”

“I… But…” I stuttered, afraid to admit myself. “I’ve been lying to you this whole time, Montak. I’m not a good person.” I told him everything about the past month or two since we’d gotten here. The first day, the bugs, Poikla Village and my friends. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about Simira.

Montak’s face never changed from a sympathetic but disappointed gaze. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Vetia.”

“Yeah…”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with trying to protect us, but you coulda trusted us sooner, let us know what may follow you home. I already knew you’re a fireblood and I took that risk.”

“This isn’t my home, Montak. It’s yours and I almost took it from you.”

“No. Vetia, like it or not, this is your home too. You became part of this family the moment Lotti took to ya.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Don’t say that. I’m not her mother.”

“Maybe not, but you were there for her when she needed you, and that’s what family does, even if ya ain’t blood. Even if you’re a fireblood.”

His words, I didn’t deserve them. I kept telling myself he was just saying it all to be kind, that it was a hallucination, but everything he said and expressed, it was all genuine. I wiped my eyes and sniffled away my runny nose.

“There’s money over there. It’s for you and Lotti. I don’t know how much it will help, but I hope it’s enough for her to get an education. Maybe raise her status.”

Montak stood, hesitantly walking to the money. “You don’t hafta-” He realized the protest on my face as he began to refuse. “We appreciate it, but I don’t know that there’s enough money for-” He blinked like he couldn’t believe his eyes and he turned to me, completely taken aback. “Vetia, these… these are peeps. How did you get all of them? How many are there?”

“Fifteen thousand sennos worth in there. Don’t worry about how I got em. Just take em.”

Montak’s eyes welled up with tears and he collapsed in his chair with a sigh like all the years had finally paid off. Then he caught himself, checked the bag again, and sternly stared. He aggressively stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders.

“What’d you do to get these? This much money don’t come from nowhere good!”

I stammered, tears breaking through my eyelids. “It won’t come back here again, and I’m leaving so it never will. I don’t even know how Fera found out about you. I promise nobody else knows you exist or that you’re connected to me. Nobody even knows I’m alive.”

He clenched my shoulders harder. “That ain’t what I mean! I know you didn’t wanna bring it back here, and I ain’t gonna stop you from leaving, but what did you do? Ain’t no good deed gettin’ ya that much money. I see it in your eyes, you did somethin’ you can’t ever take back.”

I clenched my teeth, fighting fearfully through the tears, knowing he was right. “I know. But now I gotta live with it. I didn’t do it for nothing. You saw me when I got here. After we left the village, somebody did horrible things to me, and somebody else wanted that person to pay. That’s it. I’m done with it now. I’m done with this city. I’m leaving.”

He pulled his hands back and sighed. “It’d be cruel to Lotti if I sent ya away now. Stay til she wakes up.”

I was afraid he would say that. Looking at Lotti, thinking about staying and helping take care of her, it made me want to give up everything. I hadn’t spent long with them, but there was a part of me that wanted to stay and watch her grow, to protect her.

I raised my head. “Yeah. Sure. You’ve both been asleep for a while, you’re probably hungry. I’ll make breakfast. The smell should wake her up. Besides, you both lost blood, you need food in ya.”

“No, no, you sit I’ll do it.”

“Montak, I-”

“No, Vetia, just sit and let me make breakfast. There ain’t any more farm work to do, snow and all, and my other job’s on hold til the ashewinds pass.”

Lotti woke up as if on queue when Montak set the table with plates of scrambled eggs, bread, and farn sausages.

“Good morning Lotti,” I said, “how are you feeling?”

She was still rubbing her eyes as she lazily walked to the table. “Morning, mummy. Morning duddy. My head is spinny.”

Thank God she forgot it, though I did feel terrible for injecting her with my tail poison.

“I had- had a- a dream that- there was a bad one- when I- when Duddy let a fireblood in.”

If my heart could melt, it would have done so right on the spot. “Well, that’s over now. Come on and sit down.”

Lotti sprung up, “Bekfast!” and galloped to the table, hopping around and quickly making a sound like bididididididididi, pretending to be doing something that I was just lost on.

Montak picked her up and put her on her seat. A smile stretched across my face as her little hands and stubby fingers brutishly grabbed the fork to stab into her eggs. Her endearing clumsiness was adorable, even though I had to reach over and fix her grip on the fork.

“You’ve gotta work on your manners, Lotti,” I said. “If you want to go to a good school, they’re gonna judge you on that.”

“There was an- an old lady who- who- she went to school.” Eggs were spilling out the sides of her mouth as she tried to tell her truly riveting story.

“Swallow your food before you talk, Lotti. You’re making a mess.”

“You too, Vetia,” Montak tapped the side of my wooden plate with his fork.

“Oh, right.” I picked up the fork awkwardly. How long has it been since I had a regular plate of food? I had picked at scraps off of breakfasts, but I never ate with them because I didn’t need to. The last time I ate a proper meal was before the manor. Even at the manor it was just scraps of stale bread and old cheese.

I finally bit into the food in front of me. The eggs were so fresh that they were orange as carrots, not to mention the light texture and rich, savory flavor. The sausages had a perfect snap on every bite that released the sweetness of the tender meat inside the wrapping. It was seasoned with something that tasted like slightly sour garlic and fruit. The charcoal-baked bread complemented the richness of the sausage and eggs with its own sweet and smoky flavor. The crunchy crust and soft, airy insides were delicious. For such a simple meal, I found myself enjoying it more than any other plate of food in my entire life. Maybe it was the company, maybe it was the food. Or maybe it was the fact that I felt like a normal person again, eating with other people.

Lotti held a look of suspicious confusion while she glanced between me and Montak. “Duddy, her name is Rowena!”

Montak was about to start, but I jumped to correct her. “Your dad is right. My real name is Vetia.”

“Mummy is mummy!”

“Lotti, you know I care about you a lot, but I’m not your real mom.”

She was getting all bossy and demanding again. “Mummy saved me from the big sick! Only mummies save a- only- you- duddy made food and you’re mummy!”

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Lotti.”

Lotti’s bright blue eyes opened wide and she eyed her dad suspiciously, who was just watching his daughter be happy.

I leaned over and covered my mouth, whispering loud enough for Montak to hear. “Did you know that your mummy actually sent me to check on you? I work for her.”

Lotti gasped.

“Mhm. Yeah. She’s still keeping an eye on you, but she’s really far away so she asked me to check in, make sure you’re learning your letters and helping your dad.”

She yelled out. “I am learning my letters!”

I playfully hushed her. “It’s a secret, Lotti.”

She whispered. “I learned my letters.”

“Good, because your mummy wants you to get into a super good school and learn tons.”

Lotti nodded eagerly, tapping the end of her fork against her cheek without even realizing it.

“I’ll give her a good report, Lotti, but she wants you to talk to her more. Tell her about your day and all the things you’re learning.”

“I can’t tell her. She’s not here.” Lotti’s little nose scrunched up in thought.

“Maybe you can’t see her,” I gazed into the empty spot at the table across from me. “But she’s here. She’s listening.”

Montak eyed me with a bit of confusion and I nodded at him with a smile. I couldn’t hold the smile back. Not with all the unfiltered love and joy bursting from the little wisp of green energy across the table. She danced between their auras like a living cloud, too much for a single person to contain, radiating bursts of love throughout the little home. Tears crept into my eyes, but her gratitude nudged them away.

“You too, Montak.”

He quietly lowered his eyes to his food and nodded with a grateful smile. They were so happy even though so much had just happened to them.

But it was their love, not mine. These joys couldn’t last for me. I had to leave. I had to make sure Diona would never touch this family, never even know they existed.

I cleared my plate and Montak took it to wash before I could. Breakfast was done. It was time.

“Hey, Lotti,” I kneeled at her seat. “I’ve gotta get going now, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m gonna be gone for good. I won’t be coming back.”

“Why can’t you stay?”

“Because… I just can’t.”

“Why?”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, trying to fight back crying again. “My friends need me, and I’ve gotta be with them so they stay safe.” Lotti started getting upset, like she was fighting tears as much as I was. “You know what, Lotti? I’ll write you letters while I’m away and if you want to know what they say, you’ll have to learn to read. I’ll tell you about the cities I visit, and what the schools are like. That way, you’ll know all about what kinds of schools you’ll be able to go to when you’re older.”

Lotti’s eyes finally burst and she clutched me in a hug. “I don’t want you to go! I want you to stay!”

“I won’t be gone forever. We’ll see each other again. I’ll visit if I’m in the area. Who knows. Maybe when you’re an adult, we’ll be in the same place where we can catch up.”

“No! I want you here now!”

“I- I-” I cleared my throat, trying not to cry again. Fuck, I’ve been crying so much.

It was so difficult letting go of her, but in the end, I did. I kissed the side of her head and let go of her. Montak had to peel her off of me so I could get to the door. She was a crying, yelling mess in his arms and it shattered my heart. My lips turned down, pursing to keep any emotional structure in my face or else I’d fall apart. She’d get over it. I couldn’t stay. Definitely not anymore. As much as I really wanted to.

“So,” he said, “you don’t know where you’re going? Will you be alright finding your way?”

“Yeah, I’ve got friends. I’ll go pay Diona a visit and then we’ll be gone. You don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“Good luck. Be safe.”

“Likewise.”

With that, I left Montak and Lotti’s house for the very last time.

“I want that one day. Something like it. Even if I can’t be a dad anymore, I might be able to be a mom with a home, a passion, a husband, and something to pass on. But I can’t do that if I know she’s out there, slowly killing that very idea.”

I whirled a bronze robe over my shoulders to cover me through the Amien Quarter. I couldn’t risk the guards recognizing me. I tugged the hood up, buttoned the top around my horns, and draped a grey veil over my face. The extra appendages made me less recognizable to Amien guards, but they made wearing clothes a massive hassle. Everything had to be custom tailored or specifically made for people with wings and horns and tails. Montak had been kind enough to lend me some money to buy them.

Nevertheless, I stuck Diona’s pin into the collar, passing the guards into the Hallax Quarter with ease. Apart from the patrolling guards and a handful of residents, the streets were nearly empty. Ash littered the ground and gently drifted from the sky. The snow from the night before was almost entirely melted and the whole quarter felt warmer from sunlight reflecting off all the buildings. I arrived outside the door of Good Moaning and focused, searching auras for anyone inside. I didn’t get a read on anyone at all. The entire place was empty.

Diona said she was leaving soon, so can I just run? But what if I could stop her? What if that’s the entire reason I ended up where I am? What if only a fireblood can kill her, or some bullshit like that? There’s gotta be a reason I’ve made it this far, a reason I’ve died and come back, a reason I went crazy. I can’t let this opportunity go.

“Go inside! She may have already fled!”

“What if it’s a trap? What if she knows?!”

“There is no time for what ifs! Wavering means death!”

My racing heart eased and calmness flowed through me. I slinked around the building to the back door and burst through, ready to fight. Everything was still, almost hauntingly so. She could still be inside. The old cracking wood steeped in stale smoke was illuminated by dimly glowing stones hanging from the ceiling. The floor creaked and groaned as I crept through the hall towards the stairs to Diona’s office. It was a dismal place when people were here and morbid when empty. I checked each corner and door I passed, expecting her to spring on me. If she really was a fireblood, she would have some kind of appendages, but not poison, just something to kill with. I had to be ready to fight, to adapt. If she’s been alive as long as she apparently has, she’s got a secret.

Up the staircase and through the hall, her study door was open and her chair empty.

“Shit!”

I sprinted in and fumbled over the wooden planks on her desk. All of them were scraped out, broken, or fuel for the fireplace that was licking at the stones trying to break free. I searched for anything that might give me a sign as to where she might be, but even the wooden documents that were still intact were in a completely different language.

And then I sensed it, an imposing, confident aura at the end of the hallway, at the top of the stairs behind me. Light scraping of metal and heavy footsteps echoed through the wooden corridor into my ears like a horrifying musical beat. I slowly turned as the footsteps entered the doorway and stopped.

“Declare thyself,” the angel in blood red armor demanded, his grave yet proper voice suffocating my will. No, he was more like a demon or a dragon. Scales and wings, claws, blood red eyes and a glare that told me he had no regard for my life. Fuck, he might be able to detect my emotions like that storyteller.

“My name is Vetia,” I stammered, “And you?”

“I am Richard of the Elysian Halo, in search of one by the name of Diona.” He slowly investigated the room, sniffing the air, every step he took sending a wave of anxiety through me. “Though now, my attention is drawn elsewhere. It is alerted by thy odor, and the odor which permeates this dwelling.”

I found myself matching his speech. “Mark me confused. What is this odor you speak of?”

He sniffed between each word and walked around the room. “This stench… it reeks… of the blood of devils.” He pointed a sword directly into my face. “Woman.” His eyes searched me for any sign of aggression, like he was ready to take my head off in less than a moment’s notice. “Scribe a sigil before mine eyes or I shall strike you down where you stand.”

Devils? I hadn’t heard anyone in this world utter that word. I slowly raised my finger and drew out three circles for the quick fix sigil I knew.

“Fruitless.” Richard lowered the sword and stood analyzing the room, his presence relaxing. “What is thy business here?”

“Our quarry is the same. I search for Diona the fireblood. I was temporarily in her employ until I learned of her true nature. Perhaps she is the cause of the odor?”

You’d think by his expression that he just stepped in shit as he raised his sword to me again. “I’ll not share presence with a whore. Leave.”

I sneered at him. “Bold of you to call a virgin a whore. I’m investigating her for personal reasons, got a job under her, in her inner circle of this brothel.”

He gazed at me skeptically. “Perhaps our intentions align. I seek out information pertaining to Alex and Eddie Van Halen, two men retained by Diona for their musical talent.”

My heart dropped. How many people are searching for us, and how powerful are they? I had to throw him off our trail.

“And don’t think me dull, either. Madam Diona appears to be an alias. I intercepted correspondence addressed to one by the name of Fehle, though I couldn’t find much else about her true identity.”

Richard leaned forward, his eyes briefly spreading so subtly that I wouldn’t have noticed if not for the explosion of horror and rage in and around him. The very word was like a curse on his mind, but he didn’t know I knew because I didn’t whisper it. I don’t think he can read my emotions.

“And I only saw those clowns on stage and a few times on their way in. I was nosing around and I caught a glimpse of some transactions.” I paced around the desk, buying time to think. “With a merchant. Delivering two high priority people and crates of instruments out of Triala. Can’t exactly show you the receipts because, well…” I flipped a plank over on the table and gestured toward the fire. “Then they cleared house.” I had to change the subject before he asked questions. “You know where Fehle’s going?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

I couldn’t hide the sneer on my face and he definitely noticed.

“You’re out for her blood.”

“As I stated. Personal reasons.”

“Alas the day.” He sighed and walked toward the fire. “Then this putrid brothel is worthwhile as ash and shall return henceforth.” He glared back at me, dread in his eyes, then some sympathy. “Forewarning. You would do better not to contest that creature. Run and preserve what life you can. You’re of lonsu descent. Though a half breed, the far-southern city of Tagand Rodth in the Derus Mountains may grant amnesty should you provide intelligence of her spread to them. Though beware the grudge held by the jorlad of the plains below.” Richard twirled his sword and drove it into the fire before ripping the shards of burning wood onto the floor.

“Thank you, Sir Richard.”

He hastily stepped around me, a stutter toward me from his frontal stare as I called him sir. He disappeared down the stairs and I stood still, staring into the creeping fire as it began its consumption of the room.

“God dammit, where is she?! Where did she go?!” Wrath burned through me as my character broke and I shuffled the boards looking for something, anything as the fire raged up the sides of the desk. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

Suddenly a shot of freezing air raced down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a gold shape disappearing at the stairs. A gold shape that robbed the jzanmah of all things around her. I took off in a sprint through the hall, down the stairs and out the open back door. The alley grew dark as clouds took over the sky and Diona was nowhere in sight. I unfurled my wings and flew out above the road at the end of the alley, hovering to search.

My eyes caught the same gold shape slinking around a corner, closer than before. The wind carried me to the entrance of the alley and there she was, darting away with a heavy jingling bag on her back.

I wasn’t the best at flying, but I didn’t care. I could dive bomb a bitch and live, so that’s exactly what I did. I beat my wings back and then propelled myself forward, pulling them in and soaring like a missile down the alley with my claws out to gore her on impact. Thirty feet from impact. Twenty. Ten. She was still running when she twisted around and slashed at me with foot long saw-like talons. I overshot… no, she ducked.

I hit the ground in a flash. She tore into my side, wrapping her claw around my pelvic bone and ripping me out of the air. I tried to push away, but her grip wrenched me into the cobblestones, a searing burn coursing through my head.

The tops of buildings spun around the sky and I couldn’t move, like my brain had been turned into paste. Blood and torn organs spilled from my waist and my lungs wheezed, broken ribs jabbing into them.

Then, Diona’s face crept between me and the sky. I groaned in pain, trying to push myself up while her eyes burned holes through me. Her face was wretched, hateful, and utterly apathetic..

“Simira should have risen. You’re supposed to be dead, you and that little family. Fera was supposed to bring back my money after disposing of you.” Diona shoved her claws through my shoulder and out my back, clutching my collarbone and pinning me to the wall. I screamed out through my teeth as her talons bore deeper into me. “Simira is fully dead, and both Fera and my money are gone, yet you’re still here. Where is my money, Cressida?”

“The dagger! Anything! Kill her!”

The voice was frantic, terrified. Diona’s apathy seeped into me, driving through my heart with pure dread. I held back the screams, but my face couldn’t right itself. Her talons sent shocks through my right arm as I cautiously reached for Fera’s dagger with my left.

“I gave the money away. All those poor people in that shitty Amien Quarter had a real nice payday from yours truly.” I tried to smile through the unbearable pain. I couldn’t give up with her right in front of me. I whipped the dagger around and stuck it deep through her temple. "And Imma paint the fuckin' streets with you!" Diona only let out a little gasp and wrenched at my collarbone, unfazed and unaffected.

Searing pain shot through my arm as her claws reactively raked deep streaks through my bicep. No, no. I couldn’t lift it. No feeling. No movement. My arms were useless. Her face twitched as I yelped and gritted through the pain, my head feeling lighter by the minute. The dagger shivered, then started sliding out on its own, pushed out into the ashen mud by something inside of her. Her temple was already completely healed.

“Hm,” she glanced down at the dagger, “slow reaction. Perhaps I’ve become complacent. I haven’t underestimated anyone in a while, so bravo, Cressida.”

Blood oozed from my pelvis and my arm like rivers. Fear began setting in. Is this it? No. It can’t be. I’ve survived so much worse. My tail! I have to use my tail. No, it’s caught. Stuck against the wall and I can’t free it. I can’t even move my head. It keeps falling forward, taking everything I had to keep it upright. Come on! Move! Something! Some part of me do something!

“But paint the streets?” She chuckled. “Oh, you adorable half-breed. Need I remind you who bought these streets?" She richly slapped me like I was a pathetic animal. "If you want to paint them, you need licenses," she slapped back across, "training," another slap, "and, how could I forget, permission. Don’t go acting on your own. Bad shazgadj." She tapped my nose with her talon. A horrific smile curled up her heavily made up cheeks. The old makeup cracked away around her mouth. Gray lips. Pale, translucent skin. The roots of her golden hair were not golden, but stark black. Her irises were just the same, like pitch black voids. And yet she reveled in uttering her venomous hexes. "I must say, you did catch me off guard, which I commend. You and my little Simira. I had such high plans, but I see now, she stuck to you. Such a shame I lost all that work. Oh well, I’ll be back here in a few generations. Let’s have some fun, shall we? It’s been a while since I’ve been able to savor a kill.”

I watched through wincing eyes as her breasts shifted under her coat like arms stuck inside of a shirt. And that’s exactly what ripped through the buttons on the centerline of her coat, two taloned arms slimy with pink mucus, extending from where her breasts were. They shot out, pinning me harder against the wall while her free arm slowly drove into my left shoulder, ripping the skin and muscle, sawing through the joint until I couldn’t feel my arm, until all that was left was the pain of torn muscle and nerves.

I smiled, seething through my teeth. Somehow more lucid than I’d ever been, yet powerless to do anything but weekly curse her. “I’ll find a way. Now matter how many times I have to die. I won't stop…” I wheezed, my head weakly hanging, unable to do anything but drool blood and whisper. “...until I’ve taken everything from you, I’ll break you down to nothing.”

Her smiled curled wider. “Oh, now you’re really sounding like her. Hahahaha! Oh dear, if only you weren’t mortal. But maybe…” she quieted in thought to maim me some more.

She swiftly drove her foot into my knee and all I heard was a fleshy snapping as I lost feeling in my lower body.

The tearing. The gruesome pain of having my arm slowly pulled from my torso while she deviously smiled burned into my mind at that moment. The devil incarnate ripped my arm from my body and laughed the whole way through. She dropped me into the dirty slush that lined the alley, licking at the stub of my severed arm spryly.

“Oh, how ironic!” She giggled, licking my bleeding arm like an ice cream cone and twirling it like a paint brush. “I’ve painted the street with you! And I must say, the viscous crimson smears really accent the bronze backdrop and the gradient of brown to black shit and grime. Ooh, wait!” She wiped a streak of my own blood across my face with my arm. “The final touch. There’s that visual, but also the poetry of it, no?” She waited like I was going to respond. “Nothing? Oh, please, I’ve left your lungs alone, no insight? Have you finally gone silent?” She sighed. “I’m the only one who ever seems to appreciate real art like this.”

Pain was something I had grown used to, but the light-headedness, the dark spots in my vision, those left me reeling in place, returning to the darkness of the dungeon.

“Oh, no, I see another spot where we could use some paint.”

Crack! My jaw snapped and fell limp. Diona tossed my arm into the muck behind her.

Labored breaths could no longer fill my lungs enough. Jarring pricks from busted ribs stopped them. My side, my stub, my jaw, all of them had gone numb from the pain. Even my upper body was losing all feeling. Coldness. Freezing death slowly seeped through me. All I could do was hope for somebody to save me from this nightmare. I couldn’t see or hear anything. Alone. Bleeding out in the alley. Drowning in death. Nobody coming.

Diona’s hideous cackling slithered into my ear. “Oh! I never thanked you! I had faith you would kill her, being such an accomplished healer. I presume you’re here because that family is dead? Or maybe not. I don’t care. I never thought you would be bold enough to come after me, though. Now I think you might have some great potential, so I’ll keep your body intact.”

I tried channeling jzanmah into my foot, to do something, heal myself.

“Oh no no no! No jzanmah. Oh, that soul of yours… well, you won’t need it to heal after this.” She haughtily chuckled. “It was a pleasure doing business. I look forward to doing some real business with you when you’re a fireblood. You’ll find me after you rise.”

“Get up! We must rise and