“Peace, goddess,” the Leanan Sidhe said, her gaze fixed on the silver laptop in my hands. “I simply wish to talk. For now.”

Her easy-going smile was at odds with the coldly calculating glare she fixed me. My hair stood on end at the amount of magic that was radiating from her.

Just as the divinities were ideas made flesh, the fae were the natural energies of the planet, its ambient mana, given form. The weakest fae was equivalent to a journeyman mage, and from how easily she’d isolated me from my companions, this Leanan Sidhe was in no way weak.

“Forgive me if I’m less than reassured.” I said, my grip on my weapon tight, “Or am I supposed to believe that one of the fae would spirit me away from my companions just to have a chat?”

“‘Spirit away’, that takes me back.” she said with a chuckle. “You don’t exactly have a choice in the matter, now do you?”

“Watch it, Leanan Sidhe. You may be fae, but I am still a goddess.”

“Indeed you are. And indeed I am. And yet here we are.” She leaned forward, her hands clasped. “Both traitors to our kind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Only those truly without shame can ignore the anguished cries of the countless lives taken by that eternally stained blade. And to what end? The power of the First God? Is that cargo cult ‘deity’ truly worth spitting on the graves of your brethren? Tell me, Luna Invicta, how can you live with yourself, knowing that you’re willingly working with the Butcher of the Sacred Glen?”

Her gaze held me in place. Any words I had died before they left my throat.

“Or perhaps this is merely out of convenience?” the Leanan Sidhe said, her eyebrow raised. “Well it doesn’t matter either way. The Pretender has given me leave to deal with you as I see fit, and I would rather not spill more blood than is necessary, yes?”

“So you’re working for Lacan as well?”

“Nothing so crass.” she said. “We simply want the same thing done, the Butcher dead, and you out of the way.”

“I don’t know which is more surprising, that one of El’s Personae would hire a fae, or that one of your kind would consider working for him. Your condemnations ring hollow, Leanan Sidhe, when you yourself would ally with El. Or have you forgotten the carnage wrought by his messengers whenever they found one of your sanctuaries?”

Though her expression remained steady, the mist around me grew thicker, her aura surged with renewed power. Slowly, she stood to her full height.

“As I’ve said, we are both traitors to our kind.” she said, the mana pouring forth from her gripped my anima and threatened to smother my very essence. “And as soon as justice is done, I will be joining my kin in death. But the Butcher is proving to be quite the handful.” Her eyes narrowed, a slight smirk appearing at the corner of her cheeks. “Which brings me to here. Goddess of the Moon, I’m offering you something that very few ever get. A second chance.”

Smoky white tendrils snaked around me.

“The Pretender only wishes for the Butcher’s death. Let justice be done, and before I die, I will ask him to stop hunting you.”

“And you seriously think I’ll fall for that?” I said.

“Your alternative is facing me. Your power is diminished, you are a goddess in name only, Luna Invicta. And I am still very much a fae.” she said. The mist swirling around me grew cold, seeping into my bones and chilling my blood.

I met her gaze with my own. My grip on my weapon tightened.

“Indeed you are, Leanan Sidhe. A fae through and through-”

I shot forth like lightning, my silver cudgel making contact with her delicate neck.

“-as arrogant as your kind have ever been.” I said, separating her head from her shoulders.

Even as her head sailed into the distance, her expression remained unchanged.

“A poor choice.”

The meadow turned pale, the log she sat upon grew insubstantial. Wisps of smoke rose from the now transparent flowers. Her headless body fell, the entire tableau dissolving into silvery mist soon after. A decoy. Of course it was never going to be that easy.

“Rest assured, I shall not be like the Butcher. I will end you swiftly.” Her voice came from everywhere, and nowhere.

“You’ll find that I’m not so easily put down, Leanan Sidhe.” I said, even as I reinforced my body, drew upon my authority as the Mistress of Battle.

The mist rippled, I felt an unmistakable eagerness in her aura. A challenge issued.

My gaze swept over everything in front of me. Nothing but mist. I tried to feel her aura, find out where she hid herself. Nothing.

Every single muscle in my body was taut, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. Every instinct screamed that something was about to happen.

A slight shifting to my left. A brief gust of wind.

I was already leaping to the right when it struck.

Shock waves rippled from the point of impact, slamming into me and sweeping me away.

The mist surrounding my enemy was blown away by his strength.

My heart beat was all I could hear when I saw him.

Golden hair that flowed past his shoulders. Muscles that rippled with power beneath bronzed skin. Piercing blue eyes that regarded me as nothing more than an insect. The crimson armour lined in gold. The fact that El’s name did not burn upon his forehead.

A messenger so renowned, so powerful, that his title was known in equal measure as El’s name. So much so that it no longer translates into English for me, and is instead treated as his name, and his alone.

“Mikha-El.” I could barely believe the words that escaped from my lips.

The leader of El’s armies was here. The absolute strongest of the Four Great Messengers had come to kill me.

“El’s greatest general, sent to kill me? I’m flattered.” I said, even as the words scraped themselves against my bone dry throat. “Tell me, messenger, how long has it been since you’ve deigned to sully your own hands with blood?”

He looked at me. He rotated his shoulders, stretched his muscles, each minute movement brought with it sickening pops of bone.

“Speechless? That’s a first.” I said. I held out my backpack in front of me, my laptop held in my other hand, adopting as much of a defensive stance as I could muster. “Every single assassin sent after me seemed to love the sound of their voice after-”

“Pathetic.”

His voice was low, his tone, dark. His speech was like staring into a bottomless well in the dead of midnight.

“Just as worthless as before.” he said.

My legs tensed, it took everything I had to stop me from leaping at him. The laptop creaked, protesting at the strength of my grip, even as my ersatz shield wavered.

I couldn’t rush him. No matter how much I wanted to bash his head in, I couldn’t rush him.

He had no such qualms.

Steady peals of thunder resounded, each heavy footfall shook the world. Mist parted in droves, fleeing from the comet of violence that soared towards me.

A split second decision. Primal instinct overcame pride.

A deafening crash, the sound of shattering stone mere millimetres above my head. Billowing mist assaulted me, along with something else. Sand?

I looked up from where I was crouching. Mikha-El’s fist seemed to disappear into nothingness, swallowed by the swirling fog.

His gaze drifted down to me.

My legs moved on their own, leaping backward with all my might.

Only to slam me against something hard almost immediately.

A dullness at the back of my head, the world swam in front of me. Needles stabbing my shoulder whenever I moved told me I had broken something. I looked behind me. Still nothing but mist as far as the eye could see. My hands flew forwards, stopping when they met something cold and unyielding. An invisible wall?

Bursts of wind billowed. I turned. Saw his fist about to take my head. My arms moved, shielding me with my backpack. I poured as much faith as I could. Called upon the Domain of Battle. Anything to limit the damage he could do. Knowing that it wouldn’t make a difference.

His fist made contact. And was blown away, repelled completely.

“Wha-?”

I didn’t have time to gawk, he was already pulling his arm back from the invisible wall.

I swung with my weapon, the laptop that, even if it had been turned into my Regalia, should have done minimal damage.

I made contact with his elbow. There was no sound of flesh tearing, no sound his arm being rent asunder. But his flesh folded against the edge of my laptop, and the brief tremor I felt before he drew back meant that I had broken through solid bone.

“Mikha-El leapt backwards, his arm hanging uselessly to his side. I looked at him, my weapon hand frozen were I had left it. The silvery laptop glittered with freshly spilled blood.

I faced him, stood as tall as I could.

“It would appear that time has been more unkind to you than it has been to me, messenger. Such a pity, I was hoping for a challenge.” I said. I moved forward on shaky legs. Mikha-El simply tilted his head, unmindful of his impossibly broken arm.

Each step I made was held back by indecision. One moment he was moving at speeds far greater than two hundred years ago, the next he completely succumbs to attacks that even Rafa-El, weakest of the four, would have laughed off. Something was off.

“Your pride is hollow.” Though his mouth moved, the rest of his face was completely still.

“What would you know about pride, you lapdog of El?” I said.

His eyes stared blankly at me, his posture completely relaxed.

“The past remains past. You can never be made whole.”

“What did you just say?”

“Your sins will follow you forever. Not even death will absolve you, Kinslayer.”

“ENOUGH!”

All I could see was him. Muscles protested as I pushed them to their limit. Anima flared as I burned through my faith. I leapt forward, the full fury of the Domain of Battle behind me.

I was a sword. The embodiment of a goddess’s fury. A silver blade that would annihilate him. I would crush him. Reduce him to nothing. Destroy him. I would wipe him from this earth.

I let loose a strike that nearly tore muscle from bone. And I missed.

He had already leapt backwards. The mist surrounded him, hiding his form from view.

“COWARD!” I screamed into the void. “SHOW YOURSELF! ANSWER FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

I swung wildly at the mist, but they did not part. I ran forwards, but he was nowhere to be found. I closed my eyes, tried to feel his aura, but nothing but the Leanan Sidhe’s remained. I kept running, only to run headfirst into yet another invisible wall. Mikha-El was gone.

I fell to my knees. I pounded the ground, my blows doing nothing to lighten the weight on my shoulders.

How dare he. How dare he sully those memories with his vulgar tongue. How dare he condemn me. He had no right. He-

I heard footfalls behind me. Not heavy, like Mikha-El’s was. But lighter, softer. I stood and turned to face my adversary.

Hair as black as the new moon. A crown made of interlocking golden vines, terminating in eight peaks that seemed to grasp the heavens themselves. A complexion gently kissed by the desert sun, peeking out from wherever her deep blue, silken dress failed to cover her lithe, graceful form. A beauty that entire nations have killed and died for. Amber eyes regarded me with nothing but hatred.

My hands lost all strength. My weapons fell at my side.

“No…” My voice was no louder than a whisper.

“Ashtari?”

I spoke her name for the first time in 500 years.

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Her hand drifted outwards, pointed at me. Her stare pierced my soul.

“Murderer…”

A raspy whisper as loud as a hammer’s fall.

“I- It wasn’t- No…”

“You killed me.” she said.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t tear myself away from her gaze.

“You killed us all!” Her eyes grew wide, her mouth split wide in vicious snarl.

“I-” I couldn’t speak. The world shimmered. A hot wetness steadily dripped from my cheeks. My hands won’t stop shaking.

The purest distillation of white hot rage erupted as she screamed.

I couldn’t move.

She leapt at me, hand outstretched, aimed directly at me.

I couldn’t move.

She was mere centimetres from me. A second between life and death. One more moment before judgment is finally passed on me.

“You should’ve died instead.” I heard her say.

Her fingers found my stomach. Buried themselves deep.

Pain. All was pain. Blossoming heat spread from my abdomen. The dull taste of iron flooded my mouth. Her hand twisted inside me. Agony. My very existence was agony.

The buried hand within me saw me as anathema. I felt pure rejection from that hand, a repudiation of the very concept of me. The cold hardness within at the centre of that swirling maelstrom of agony was death.

Blood spilled from my mouth, splattering all over her face. My legs felt numb. Staying on my feet took all my strength.

She pulled her hand out, forcing me to my knees. Deep red flowed freely. Everything was going dark. My arms wobbled. I couldn’t keep going on.

Silver glittered at the edge of my vision. My laptop, being swallowed up by the flowing sea of red.

I can’t lose you too.

The fog in my mind cleared. My eyes shot open. Every nerve in my body protested. The blood gushed forth from my open wound. But I forced myself forward.

I rose to my feet. I gazed upon the phantom from my past. Though my knees wobbled, I never fell. Though my hands shook, my grip on Vanafreya’s gift never faltered.

With a primal roar, I swung my laptop at her. Ashtari did not move. I made contact; my blow struck with killing force.

Only for her to spin on her heels, dispersing most of my strength. With the force of her spin, she swung a balled fist.

Impact. A sickening crack echoed within my skull. Fresh pain blossomed at the back of my head. Nausea. My face slamming down, blood dripped from my broken nose. But I will not fall. I cannot fall.

I forced my legs up. Everything in front of me lost focus, but I did not. My life seeped out from me, my once purple hoodie dyed by several splotches of deepest crimson. Pain threatened to overwhelm all thought. But I did not allow myself to fall.

I looked up, but Ashtari was already gone, consumed by the mist.

Strength left me. I collapsed face first, into the cold, unforgiving ground. I pushed against mist covered floor, forced myself to lie on my back. Blood freely gushed from the gaping hole in my abdomen.

I don’t know how much time I had until either of them came back. I gripped the edges of my hoodie, tore as wide a strip as I could, tied it around my waist, strangled screams escaped from grinding teeth as I wound the cloth as tightly as possible. Blood finally stopped flowing out of me. I finally had time to think.

Things weren’t adding up. Fighting Mikha-El should have been a death sentence, and him being here at all didn’t make any sense. Cam told me that there was a war in the Empyrean; there was no way that one of the four would prioritize me over that, nor would any of them ever take deign to work with a fae.

Then there was Ashtari.

I squeezed my eyes shut, banished the emotions that threatened to burst forth. I can’t fall apart now.

She shouldn’t have been here. No matter how much I wanted her to, she couldn’t have been here. No matter how hard I begged, even if I still saw her smile whenever I closed my eyes, even if I still felt the warmth of her hand in mine, she was never coming back to me. These same hands made sure of that.

On that flame wreathed abattoir, I felt her grow cold. 500 years ago, I saw the goddess Ashtari die.

I used precious strength to wipe away flowing tears. Sobs left my lips freely. I was without dignity. I was undeserving of pride.

“To see one of the divine weeping like an infant. What was it that you saw, I wonder?”

The Leanan Sidhe’s voice echoed within the mist. Though I had no way of seeing her, I could almost guarantee that her too perfect face was contorted into a sneer.

“Worry not, Luna Invicta. Your pain shall be over soon.”

My breathing was shallow. My insides felt like they were on fire. I stood slowly, even as my legs lost all sensation, supporting myself on the invisible wall in front of me.

“Leanan Sidhe…” I said. My hair was matted by dried blood. My stomach covered in a band of rapidly darkening cloth. I could barely keep myself from falling over.

“The mist cannot hide you from me forever. When I find you, I will hurt you. You will beg me for death, and I will deny you.” I spat out a wad of blood, flesh, and bile. “And when the time comes that you can suffer no more, I will have Tabitha gut you, and you will hang from the bow of her ship by your own entrails.”

“Is that so?” I heard her chuckle. “Good luck.”

I was alone once more. And even as my vision began to blur, I knew, with utter certainty, that I was going to kill her.

“Brave warrior, may your burden be lightened, may your pain subside.” I drew upon the reserves of faith, unmindful of the cost. “Your wounds are fleeting, your glory eternal. The goddess of war promises victory.”

It was like a flame had been lit within me, the purging fire scorched my veins and gave me strength enough to move. The skin above my wounds closed, though the damage remained, I was not the goddess of healing after all. By my estimates, this haphazard blessing bought me thirty minutes at best. It would have to do.

Mikha-El’s inexplicable weakness, Ashtari’s impossible resurrection, and the words of the Leanan Sidhe.

Mikha-El instantly fell to me, almost as if he’d already submitted to my authority before we met.

Ashtari’s hand that effortlessly slid into my flesh, the hand that felt cold and hard while it was inside me, almost as if it was made not of flesh, but out of metal. The way she naturally pirouetted when I struck, almost as if her entire fighting style was based upon dodging.

A flash of recognition, it all made sense. I wasn’t spirited away, I was still at the oil rig. This mist that surrounded me was a field of glamour which controlled the senses of those within. I’d been fighting Tabitha and Junogloris this entire time.

Palm met forehead in disbelief. It was so obvious, if I actually thought about it. But now that I knew what she was doing, how on earth was I going to counter it?

I felt the cold cement in my palm, though I could not see it. Junogloris’s fist disappearing in the swirling mist, Tabitha’s dagger in my belly. I closed my eyes, searched for Junogloris, I still saw nothing but white. It would seem that the glamour clouded sight and hearing, but not touch.

There was no way I was overpowering her glamour, not in the state I was in. But not even the strongest illusions could completely sever a goddess’s connection to her champion. Nor could it sever my connection to other things. There was a way to overcome her glamour.

I took a deep breath. Focused solely upon my connection to the moon. There, to the southwest, a shining beacon of light. My salvation.

Hand in front of me, I ran towards that silvery glow. Whenever I felt a wall, I ran parallel to it, never letting my hand leave its surface until I felt the telltale edges of a corner.

Precious minutes passed as I ran blindly. But I was finally in front of my goal. I ran my fingers along the mist shrouded barrier ahead of me. Cold, colder than concrete. Distinctly sleek, smooth. I lightly tapped it, feeling the reverberation throughout the entire structure. No doubt about it, this was a steel door, not unlike the one in Tabitha’s ship.

“Worthless dregs.”

I turned towards that sound. Before me, Junogloris stood, still shrouded in Mikha-El’s form. Who was it that he saw in front of him? What could drive him to attack me with all his strength?

The illusion of Mikha-El stood unmoving. No traces of his previous wounds could be seen. The Leanan Sidhe was definitely baiting me into attacking my champion. I decided to oblige her.

I moved as nimbly as I could.

Junogloris swung, but it was slow enough that it was easy to dodge. I ducked underneath his fist, gently placed a palm on his wrist.

A moment’s contact. A moment where our connection was bridged. One chance to send a message before the Leanan Sidhe could interfere. With a burst of faith, I sent out one thought.

Junogloris’s other fist shot out, as swift as a bullet and a hundred times deadlier. A second’s misstep meant annihilation.

The shock wave swept me aside, a few of my ribs were definitely cracked, even as his fist passed mere inches from my body, and buried itself into the door behind me.

I closed my eyes. My mind focused on that shining beacon of hope.

I held out my hand.

A bolt of lightning flew towards me, now unhindered by the steel door. I clasped it in my hand, and I was made whole.

Power surged into me, one that I had not felt in half a millenia.

“Shine forth.”

It was not a searing brightness, but the calm of moonlight that burst forth from the blade in my hand. The moon’s gentle beams washed over us, purging us of the Leanan Sidhe’s influence. I swung my blade, and the mist was purged.

“My goddess?”

His right arm was broken at the elbow. His makeshift toga was in tatters. Slashes, some shallow, some deep, covered his entire body. But he still stood strong.

“Forgive me, Mistress Luna.” he said, kneeling before me. “I do not deserve to call myself your champion.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But-”

“Junogloris. Whatever it was that you saw, I understand.” I said. I stepped forward, only to fall.

“Mistress Luna, you are hurt!” he said, even as he caught me.

“Not as much as that Leanan Sidhe is going to be.” I said. I looked at the sword I still held in my hand.

A full three quarters of the blade was missing, and what remained longer held an edge. The pearl that decorated the pommel had long lost its sheen, the crimson leather on its hilt now the same colour as the rust that ate away at the crescent shaped guard. Still, with the blade made of ethereal moonlight that extended from that well worn steel, the Luna Gladius shone with all of its former glory.

My regalia. A symbol of my authority over my empire and my Domains, and one of the most famous swords in all of existence, with only that Brittanian king’s blade being its superior.

I drank in the faith that radiated from my regalia. Replenishing my stores as much as I could, taking as much as my body could handle. Once I had my fill, there was plenty left to spare.

“Such a shame that I never had authority over the Domain of Healing.” I said. “But this will do for now.”

The Leanan Sidhe might have used glamour at a scale that would make mortal magi faint, but I was Mistress of the Moon. Long has humanity associated that celestial sphere with the Domains of Madness and Illusion, so much so that one of the words for insanity originally meant being under the influence of the moon; lunacy. My true regalia by my side, rendering myself and others immune was child’s play.

“Come, Junogloris. Let us repay the Leanan Sidhe’s hospitality a hundredfold.”

“Understood.” he said. He lifted me unto his shoulders, and we set of, my blade of moonlight cutting through any and all illusion.

*

I heard the screams before I even saw her. Her snow white hair clung tightly to her skin, sweat and blood freely intermingled, never getting the chance to dry. Her left arm hung limply at her side, while her right held her dagger in a reverse grip, wildly swinging at the mist. A single bloodshot eye was all she could see out of, the cut above her eyebrow drowned the other in an unceasing red curtain. Myriad shallow slashes adorned her body, each one bleeding only slightly. On her feet, dozens of shattered vials, attempts at healing frustrated by her adversary.

“To think that I once feared you, butcher.” the Leanan Sidhe said, a few metres away from her, sitting upon a column of solid mist. With a snap of her fingers, the mist surrounding Tabitha became a weapon.

A solid blast of wind hit Tabitha squarely in the chest. Tabitha spun, rode out a majority of the force. But she could not negate it all. She swung in front of her, cutting through nothing but air. Air that turned razor sharp as she pulled back, covering her arm in a hundred tiny wounds.

“To think that the great Marie, the one who set our sanctuary aflame, would die such a pathetic death.” the Leanan Sidhe said. Another snap of her fingers. Another attack.

Tabitha couldn’t dodge an attack she can’t see or even sense. The best she could do was minimize the damage. But she was just human. Each wound was beginning to add up, as she was now, the Leanan Sidhe could easily finish her.

“Stay away!” Tabitha swung at a phantom only she could see. “STAY AWAY!”

“What ghosts have come back to haunt you, I wonder?” the Leanan Sidhe had abandoned all composure, her lips curled in cruel satisfaction. “You will not die quickly, human. I will shatter your mind. I will carve each and every sin upon your body.”

A death by a thousand cuts.

“Please… no more…” Tabitha fell to her knees. Her dagger clattered uselessly as she dropped it. “I’m sorry… It’s all my fault… It’s all my fault…” No more words left her lips. Only the blubbering of a spirit broken. Only the anguished weeping of one haunted by the past.

“Finished already? No, Marie. We’ve only just begun.”

“Mistress Luna. The fae appears to have nothing but the savage’s suffering in mind.”

“I know.” I readied my sword.

“Perhaps it would be best to leave them be?”

“Wha-?”

“Her loyalty as changing as the wind, her methods both dishonourable and destructive to both friend and foe.” Junogloris said. “It is not a matter of if, but of when, she will prove to be an obstacle.”

“Junogloris.”

“Your quest is paramount, my goddess. Let us leave the savage to her fate. Her ship will sail just as well under our flag.”

“It would be best if we were to make haste. The Leanan Sidhe’s blood price will not be unsatisfied for long-”

“Set me down.” I said.

“Mistress Luna?”

“Now, champion.”

He gently lowered me to the ground. I held my sword aloft, gathered as much power as I could, and swung.

A searing crescent beam shot forth, annihilating all in its wake. The sound of rending rock and air would have alerted anyone to its arrival, unless, of course, her focus was elsewhere.

The Leanan Sidhe turned. Her eyes widened with shock. Instinct took over, forcing her to leap to the side, saving her from being decapitated. But only just.

“GYAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

Blood covered Tabitha as the Leanan Sidhe was cleft in two.

“Light shine forth.” The cleansing moon beams bathed Tabitha in their gentle glow.

“Junogloris, I know you mean well. Which is why I’m going to pretend that you never actually suggested anything of that sort. And you never will again, understood?”

“Very well. I am your sword and shield, my goddess.”

We made our way towards Tabitha, who had begun to open her eyes. Her hand immediately flew towards her dagger.

“Easy, Tabitha. It’s us.” I said.

“Wha- who…?”

“Luna Invicta and Junogloris.” I said, gently laying my hand on top of her dagger.

“Lu…na?”

“It’s okay. Whatever you saw, it’s over.”

Her one open eye shimmered. She coughed loudly, turning her back towards us.

“…The bloody hell… took you so long?”

“In my defence, someone did try to eviscerate me earlier.”

“Figured it was you…” she sat up, she gripped her shoulders as hardly as she could, but that did not stop them from shaking. “Divine blood feels different than…” She squeezed her eyes shut, let out a shuddering breath.

“Well whatever. So! Who do I have to thank for this warm bloody welcome?”

A drowning gasp answered her question.

She was lying in pool of her own blood, her entrails hanging from her torso like vines. Half of her spine jutted out, split open, glistening marrow thoroughly exposed. Yet the constant gasping and eyes filled with hatred told us that she, impossibly, still alive. But not for long.

“Ah.” Tabitha said. She stood, dagger in hand.

The mist around us began to disperse, revealing the crimson stained concrete underneath. In the distance to the northeast was a steel door with a fist sized hole at its centre. Tabitha’s relic room, more than likely.

“This is why I hate the ones that get away.” she tossed two green vials toward us, and quaffed the one in her hand. “They always come back with a plan to kill you, yeah?”

“Butcher…” the Leanan Sidhe gasped out. “Destroyer of our sanctuary… Do you even remember… the lives you’ve taken? Do you even know the names of those you’ve… slaughtered?”

“You know, funny thing about that. I actually do. It’s been, what, 200 years, yeah? Isn’t that right, Aoife?” she said. “What, cat got your tongue? Let me ask you something then. Do you remember Johannes?”

“What are you… blabbering about…”

“How about little Madeline? Or the Hoffmans? Are any of these names ringing any bells?”

“Why would…”

“Twenty people in total, disappearing just before harvest time. A hundred people starved because of that, half of the village. And of those twenty? Only five returned, and the stories they told, of how they were toyed with by your kind, then discarded without care as soon as you’ve had your fill. Johannes Müller was your plaything for an entire year, Aoife. His village was the one that hired me.” she said, pressing her dagger’s cruel edge to the Leanan Sidhe’s throat.

“Want to know what’s funny? That village was the tenth one to hire me in that decade. Was number one thousand for that entire century.” Though Tabitha smiled, it did not reach her eyes.

“You’ve got no right to talk about lives and revenge, Aoife. None of you do.”

“You killed everyone I loved… Marie.” the Leanan Sidhe spoke even as blood filled her lungs. “You took my home away from me… I swear. I will not die. Not until justice is done.”

“Cool. Justice is about to be done right now, with me taking your head, yeah?”

“I swear! You will not leave here alive! I will have my revenge, Marie! YOU WILL NOT KILL ME HERE!” Sheer hatred allowed her to cling to the living. But it was no use.

Hate.

A wave of emotion flooded into me.

Hate.

A choking black miasma gripped at my anima.

Why did you kill me? You destroyed my home. I was innocent! Kill her! We did nothing! Whywhyhwhywhywhywhywhywhywhy!

KILL HER.

A gust of wind that came from the relic room. The sound of flesh being pierced by steel.

Tabitha had dodged in time, but she wasn’t the target.

The Leanan Sidhe had been impaled by a jet black sword. But her hateful stare never left Tabitha.

More relics flew out of the hole in her door. A bow and arrow of glittering gold, a necklace of lapis lazuli, silver bangles covered in glowing runic script. These and much more flew towards the Leanan Sidhe’s form, only my attachment to my regalia stopped the Luna Gladius from joining them.

“Oh. Oh dear.” Tabitha’s face fell as she understood what was happening.

“Tabitha. Tell me. How did you come about those relics again?”

“Mate, I think we both know the answer to that.” she said, as she leapt back to our side, gun in hand.

Relics torn from their owners during Tabitha’s killing sprees. Their last thoughts imprinted upon objects of unimaginable power, their lingering resentment laying hidden for centuries. A focal point of intense, dark emotion as both trigger and magnet. From a being whose power dwarfs many mortal magi.

The Leanan Sidhe’s flesh dissolved into black sludge, devouring the many relics flying towards her body. Twin flames burst forth from where her eyes should be. Her face split open as she let loose an ear-splitting scream, the immense aura of absolute rage forced me to my knees. Two ebony horns formed at the top of her head.

In front of my eyes, a new demon was born.