[IC] Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

[LimeyPanda]

Kata felt the intoxicating power of her unleashed might pushing against the ball, and then something felt…off. There was fear: her fear? Jay-Jay’s? Fenrir’s even? It was all of the above, but why?

The first time the Ifrit flickered into the world, it felt like agony. Every sense, suddenly created into consciousness out of nothing at all, was overloaded with stimuli. Her eyes burned white with the oppression of the sun, while her ears rang with the bedlum of her some other being’s shallow breath. Creation was confusing, and she had no one telling her what to do. She’d simply…blinked into existence.

Katagogi looked at the ball of death, and the falling of the End-bringer, and she knew that tragedy was coming. Everyone was going to die: The Vampire, the Werewolf, the Angel, The Siren…None would live through it all and then even she would die.

…No, worse than that. She would survive, and simply return to that demonic underscape. The world underneath human existence that Demon’s called home. She wouldn’t die, but Jay-Jay would. She’d be the last to die as well: forced to watch everything she cared for burn to ash by Fenrir’s final blight on the world.

The tiny Ifrit looked up at the Titan. “Prometheus.” She knew the name without ever having heard it. It was etched onto her thoughts because it was him that had wrought her. She was his accidental child, the biproduct of his gift to humanity; an Ifrit created from the first flame. It made her a freak amongst her own kind and humanity. To humans, she was a demon, pure and simple. To demons, she was a mistake created wrongly. Ifrit were created from flames that killed people, and destroyed buildings. She had been born from the flame of life…What was she?

Unacceptable. There was no other thought in the demon’s mind. She refused to let such a tragic reward be the gift of those who managed to bring down a god. She had lived through enough Greek tragedies in her life. This time, the heroes would be given a chance to revel in their victory.

Watching Prometheus simply glare at her, the unwanted demon-daughter, was painful. She followed him as he tampered with the flame, in front of the humans he so obviously adored. He knew their names, and cared for them. She wanted to hate them for it, but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. She asked Prometheus what her own name was. His reply was simple: ‘mistakes don’t get names.’

Something clung to her and Jay-Jay. The notes of the Siren’s music were sweet, and Katagogi felt a smirk creep onto her face, despite the situation. All of the heroes of the day were scrabbling to push at the Doom-sphere, all of them desperately clinging on to life. They wanted to live, they were the all Titans, bearing the world on their shoulders. Katagogi knew what she must do, and as soon as the thought entered her mind: she felt her host’s complaints. The fear, the fury, the sadness of Jay-Jay all likely fed through the link to the Siren: but none more so than the loss.

When the gods chained Prometheus to the rock: the being that had made her and discarded her like the unwanted offspring that she was, she felt like she should have been happy. The gods had ignored her because she seemed so inconsequential. What could she do? An Ifrit with no urge to kill? What would she manage to even accomplish? What was her purpose? Time rained past her as she pondered the answer.

To the Siren though, Kata knew that she could not let him bare what was to come, if only because Jay-Jay liked him. She reached out and severed the magic connecting Siren to Demon, leaving the link to Jay-Jay: They might need it later to find her; Jay-Jay would need it for what was to follow.

The Ifrit was fully formed now. A most human-looking ifrit, no one had ever seen: but she was unmistakably an Ifrit. Her skin was dancing flame and her head bore a crown of ebony horns, like charcoal. She stood before Prometheus, having scared off the tormenting buzzards for the time being, so that she might ask a question of him. She had grown to accept the contempt from the Titan, and from man, that he loved so much. She knew the gods would always reject her, and she knew that demons would always scorn her. She needed one thing from her progenitor though. One truth to guide her. “Why did you give the humans fire?”

The Ifrit felt a conviction inside herself. She had the resolve and she had the will, so now it was simply a matter of action. She had only one thing left to do, and that was to ensure her host’s safety. Inside the mind of the body the Ifrit and the Fire-girl shared, Jay-Jay was irate. She was furious at the demon and of what she was planning to do. She thrashed against the demon, trying to regain control of her own body, despite the futility of it. The spell Jay-Jay cast was absolute. It gave Katagogi complete control of the body, for a time. A final flash of Katagogi’s most tender smile was all she could give, before closing off the part of Jay-Jay’s mind that could be affected by what was to come.

Katagogi faced the deathball, thankful for the time brought for her by the heroes. They would fail soon, so that meant there was no time now for any more diversions. She gave the Siren a little look, passing on her duty to him, almost. It was his job to look after her now.

With no more reservation, Katagogi plunged into the heart of Fenrir’s death ball. She plunged past the agony and past the hatred, past the fury of a dead god or the promise of the end times. All of that was ignored as the Ifrit surged forward, into the heart of Ragnarock itself. Then, she did the only thing she could.

She devoured it.

Prometheus had shrived under the constant cycle of death and rebirth. He looked a pathetic being now, certainly no ‘titan.’ He didn’t seem to have the energy for contempt any more. “The fire represents many things: Death, destruction, endings and all. Yet it represents something more: it is warmth, and safety also. For the humans, it would represent my final gift to them: the gift of potential. It would be the beginning of their growth as a people, and my love would be the spark that ignites that potential.”

Taking it all in was so much worse than the entrance into the ball itself: Agony unexplainable, hatred indescribable, the raw desire to end all things clawed at her skin, as if Fenrir himself still guided them. She recalled Prometheus’ words. The purpose she’d made her own. She was a being of potential: of warmth and the beginning of human growth.

The beginning, and the end. Prometheus’ fire and Fenrir’s hate. Katagogi’s origin and Katagogi’s dirge.

She felt herself start to weaken as the ball of destruction did. She was smothering herself as well as the ball. She had made her choice already, she would end herself to save Jay-Jay’s world. Her thoughts drifted to Prometheus again, a smug satisfaction on her face. “I outdo you.”

And then, the demon felt cold.

[AmongHeroes]

Like its creator, the orb was being assailed by the combined power of many. The destructive intent of its existence was being rebuffed by the will of ancient blood, the fury of Hell itself, the very magic of the deceased god-wolf, the lamenting song of primordial rivers, and the devouring might of a fire-demon’s indomitable fortitude. All of this coalesced into a force too overwhelming for the instrument of death.

Shrouded in black smoke, pierced with tendrils of magic and crackling energy, the orb began to shake violently. What began as a tremor as the fire-demon pierced the heart of the orb, grew in exponential strength with each passing second. The quaking transferred itself through the bodies of those small beings that bore it up, and in turn the earth around them began to tremble.

Flashes of irregular green light began to issue from the surface of the orb, arcing outward like angry fingers of flailing despair. Pulses of the orbs internal energy sprayed outward, carrying with them some of the magic and smoke that enveloped it, until the sky was obscured by the ethereal roil. Lightning cascaded down like rain from the black clouds, and thunder roared in a ceaseless cacophony of vengeful booms. The whole scene was a window into the end-times, a glimpse at the death of the cosmos when all hope had failed, and all the gods possessed no further will to sustain its existence.

Then, at the culmination of this Armageddon, the orb collapsed upon itself. Silence, utter and total quiet, burst from the imploding sphere. It blew outward with a force almost perceptible to those nearby, as not even the sound of one’s own heart could be heard within their ears. The orb diminished to a tiny ball, fiercely bright, and hotter than all the furnaces of the underworld. This wave of heat followed the silence, oppressing and all-consuming, stealing the very air from the lungs that were caught in its path.

Behind the heat came the last, and final song of the orb. Like a star in its last throes of death, the tiny, bright, and compact orb exploded outwards. All its light, all its baleful energy, spewed forth in a beautiful wave of sparkling brilliance. The silence and the heat were stolen away from the world, vanishing with the command of the light. The darkness of smoke and magic that had once shrouded the orb were thrust away as well, ripping open the sky to reveal a crystal-clear night above.

The stars shown downward amidst a sea of deep blue and indigo. Nothing remained of the orb. No trace of its intended destruction could be seen to mark the world, and those that had banished it were left free of any effects from its final and tremendous demise.

Of the god-wolf, Fenris, nothing remained, save one thing. The giant body that the god’s soul had left behind was nowhere to be seen, and only a faint outline of scorched earth demarked where it had lain. The blood and gore that had covered the vampiress was gone, and the fallen obsidian fur had all burnt into oblivion. All this had vanished, yet, clutched still in the hand of the crimson-wolf, a single, onyx tooth remained.

In the crystal night air, nothing is yet heard in the moment of new peace. No cries of pain or suffering, no lingering echo of string or horn, no raspy sound of breath or beat. Simply nothing. Unlike the lack of sound that the orb had called forth at its death, this silence is comforting and warming. For a time this blanket envelopes the world in its calm; a gentle reassurance that the end of all did not come to pass.

Then, from a silhouette high overhead, its outline only discernable as its path blocks the light of the stars, a single call of an eagle is heard. This stark cry ends the silence, heralding victory to all those among the realm of the living.

[The New Yorker]

Gabriel felt all the powers rallying together against the beast which he rode. It’s fearsome cries echoed in his feet, so-much-so that Gabriel was briefly offset during the God-Wolf’s last moments. The angel stopped in his tracks, midway down the beasts back, when he realized that Fenris had no fight left in him. Suddenly, the furry ground Gabriel stood on fell from under him, he was steady one moment, in mid-air, once again, the next. Gabriel tried to look behind him, turn, contort, anything. The fact was, the angel was too surprised by the felling of the wolf-god, and it all happened so fast, that Gabriel could not change the outcome of this current flight. He landed on his neck, his legs falling over him. Gabe’s pistol was knocked out of hands, slid down the side of the beast to the ground; Gabriel’s consciousness went with his pistol. He fell a great deal behind where he’d been before, and he rolled on impact, so the angel’s body began sliding off of the furry body, onto the tail, which led his unconscious form down a hill and into a spiny thicket.

Gabriel was only slightly awoken when he was pricked by thorns. He woke up in a halfly jostled state, his arms coming in front of him and getting wrapped in the thorny stems. Once he realized where he was Gabriel steadily began removing the thorny plant life wrapped around his arm, he chuckled to himself as he thought of the similarity of events tonight. He’d been launched into the air on several different occasions, and two of those times he was knocked unconscious, trapped in some kind of web. A thunderous trembling shook Gabriel from his work, the skies spit forth the playacting of Armageddon in some relentless last joke. Gabriel was frightened for a moment, it appeared as if the B&H group had failed.

A moment later the skies cleared, and then, as was the constant state of Ardgroom, the place was quiet. Gabriel quietly made his way up the hill, his bare chest lifting and falling in the moonlight as he made his way back to the place where his new friends should be. He reached the broken stones at Ardgroom in a tired slump, confused by the lack of a giant, god corpse. He fell to his pistol on the ground, lifted it, and began reloading it. He lifted his head to the dark night sky solemnly, the stars called his new human curiosity to their sparkling nature. Gabriel smiled as he thought of nothing, and was just beckoned by the impossible promises of the stars.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Scuffling and splashing sounded behind Semyon, but the Wight could take no time to look back. He drove against the pressing dead, knowing vaguely that Daisy had said something - a question? - but with no time to find out what it was.

The scuffling died, shouting began, and Semyon continued to fight. He wanted to look back, to know what was happening, who was- just to know. But no. There were too many in front of him, too many around, some managing to slip past and he couldn't even spare the time to catch them, more piling on to try and drive him into the-

Cold.

It chilled him to a standstil, froze him in a shudder that lasted well after the heavy blast had passed him by. It threw away the pressing dead, freed him of his troubles for the moment, and iced the waters all around. In a way it was welcome. In a brutal, uncaring way, like when a blizzard happens to kill more foes than comrades.

"What-"

A wall of roaring water came rushing up around him, gaze turning to find both Max and Daisy held within. Max was calmed- calming, the reaper apparently managing to get past his sudden desire for blood. He was unwounded by bullets as well, though whether that was a good thing or not remained conflicted in the mind of the undead soldier.
And through the wall, past his comrades, was Fenris.

"Calm? Good." Semyon strode over to the two, nodding simply at Max and sparing a moment for a questioning gaze toward Daisy. "Did you ask- Nevermind. We should leave. Soon... Now."

He took position by the two, facing out, eyeing the form of the god-wolf with growing uncertainty. If he was here, he might be dead, or simply grew tired of whatever Daisy had been doing to him. Either way, they needed to be gone.

"Can we? Leave?" He didn't look back at the others. The wall seemed to be failing, he would need to see when the first dead surged forth again.

Though he hoped he wouldn't have to.

[DotCom]

Daisy shut her eyes, because everything was just a fucking shit show, and that was easier. And she could feel her strength, her energy waning. Taking GodWolf's life force, his spirit, his soul, his chi/xi/qi, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, had taken more out of her than she'd have liked, and it wasn't aided by pulling the other wolves through from the river. Bringing the wight over with her had been another thing entirely, and all this was without having to contend with...whatever it was Veti's beau had become.

She dreaded having to warn the werewolf.

She was suddenly aware of the wight standing beside her, maybe asking her something again, though she couldn't be bothered to try and sift words through. The dead were gathering again and the walls around them were trembling. And there was a cold, like a sinking, heavy pressure weighing down on her, a bit like being smothered, that told her GodWolf was close. And probably pissed. Even with having siphoned off some of his energy, he would be dangerous. The dead might stop him -- he was a pretty big fish on this side, even compared to her. But they wouldn't hold him long. And Daisy wouldn't be able to hold him off at all.

She opened her eyes and blinked wearily at the wight. He was standing closer than she'd realized, and she wasted just a moment wondering at that. Unbidden, his earlier words, suddenly clear as crystal rang through her mind. Her other thoughts had been foggy, unfocused. These her sharp as broken glass.

Dimitritch, our hero, failed...
...His Sergeyevna was lost.

Daisy shivered.

And then she turned abruptly from the wight to Max, her gaze hardening. She didn't know what he meant about 'trade', but she could guess. She stared at him for a long time, seriously contemplating not bringing him back, wondering if she could control him if she did. She didn't know what had happened to him, or whether anything had happened at all. Maybe he just resented her for killing him. Maybe he had hated her for a year. And combined with the souls she had wronged on this side...Max could spell trouble.

But that was neither here, nor there. He seemed not to be a threat for the moment, and they really did need to move. Shaking her head, Daisy let her walls drop and nearly went down with them.

Instead, she sagged calmly and pulled up a new portal of swirling mist and gray.

"Hurry," she said sagely. "Before GodWolf -- "

And then something else, much closer, and much more familiar, made itself known.

Daisy swallowed a groan. "Oh, for fuck's -- "

In the distance, GodWolf raised his stupid, bitch-ugly maw and howled.

The Reaper didn't bother shivering this time. Keeping her eyes on the Godwolf, and the horde of dead slow his progress, she spoke quickly.

"Go," she said lowly, beckoning toward the portal for Max and Semyon both. "Go. Now. Leave or you won't get a second chance."

She could feel Jay-Jay's fire-demon coming, to, a flash of heat among the cold. How many times was it she'd led one of their own through the doors?

"I have something I need to do, and I need to do it before GodWolf figures his shit out. GO."

[Igraine]

Veti stood slowly, so very slowly and silently. Some stunned and disbelieving part of the werewolf still did not know how she was able to do so, and yet she could, and so she did. The wolf said nothing, only let her slowly recovering senses return as if she were ascending to sunlit skies from an oceanic abyss. Veti knew there were hurts, agonies and losses, victories and circumstances that had changed lives irrevocably these past moments among her companions, but she could barely open her eyes beneath the weight of the silence that descended upon them all.

Her long tongue lolling past her great long fangs, and Veti panted with exhaustion. She dropped to all fours on the ruined grounds of this ancient site as, somewhere overhead, an eagle screamed its victory cry. The long, tapering ears she had been sure were seared from her skull shot upward, tilted toward the skies of their own volition. The skin there was raw and tender pink to be sure, but even now she could feel the infuriating itch that promised crimson fur was growing over her brows, her jowls and claws and forearms, through what should have been hopelessly scarred flesh.

She did not understand how this should be, and yet it was, and Veti’s thoughts were in no condition to question whatever good the universe might still see fit to bestow.

The terrible, searing heat was gone, and now ebony-tipped claws wrapped about a strangely cool, smooth object that rested in her palm. Amber eyes gazed down toward her unfurling grasp, and she blinked, and sighed with a sadness so vast, she was sure it must have a gravitational center of its own.

It was a fang – the Fenrir’s fang, a great black canine tooth. Veti knew instinctively that this was what Aislinn had died for, this much diminished, near diminutive artifact resting now in her clawed hand. Her talon-tipped fingers curled about it once more, pulling her fist close to her chest.

She sensed more than saw her pack about her – or rather most of them. Her great, supernaturally healing head bowed low, Veti crawled from the epicenter of the Fenrir’s death throes on all fours, palming the fang as she moved. She hadn’t the least idea where Daisy or Artie might be, nor Semyon, but the werewolf had felt the deathly cold that hovered around Thad’s comatose body. Instinctively, she padded to her lover’s side, letting the fading warmth draw her like a beacon in the darkness.

The wolf gave way to the woman, though her skin remained a livid pink, fading by the moment even as her crimson hair grew back to length it had been. "Hey baby," she whispered, somehow managing a grimace of a smile as she pulled his body into her lap, cradling him to her chest and the remnants of her tattered grey and ivory dress.

“I’m here Thad… Max… All of you, every part of you.” With the hand that did not hold the Fenrir’s tooth, Veti tenderly pushed a tendril of golden blonde hair from his face. “I love you sweetheart. I always have. Like no other. Come back to me if you can. I’m here now. The whole world is still here… “

She did not bother to wipe at the tears that were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. What would be the point? And there was no shame in them, and so Veti let them fall. “But if you can’t come back… “ Her whisper choked painfully, and the tears fell, but Veti continued anyway while she could still feel the living warmth beneath her fingers, alongside the Reaper’s deathly cold.

“If you can’t, I know you’ll be watching. Listening. Smiling and loving me still – loving all of us. I’ll be all right this time Thad, I promise. It’ll hurt like hell, but I won’t waste a moment of the time you sacrificed for this world. You’ll see.”

“But come back baby, if you can. Please come back… “

[tirgesfu]

Go! She told him to go and Max didn’t need anything else. His body leaned toward the opening and he was ready to jump. He couldn’t get out of hell fast enough. At least his first thoughts and moves told him so. But something hit him hard as he was about to make that cross over. It felt like warm whispers. It was Thad and Veti. Veti was calling him back yet there was something in her voice that Max could hear as tired soft strenght. Sexy strength. He wanted to go there and see for himself this new power he felt from that fine woman.

It was Thad that stopped him. Without words he let Max know he couldn’t come back without doing everything he could to bring Daisy with him. And Veti would agree. If she knew. If she could.

“Shit!” Max swung back around and glared at that pink punk girl scout. She would be the muck that sucked him down. Again. He stomped away from the opening not a happy camper at all and stood grumbling beside the death chick,

“Much as I hate it, I’m not gona leave you here. Veti would never forgive me.” He made his stand wide ready to punch something. “Yea, this is me being some hero or just another dick in your way.”

Max looked around trying to figure out what he should do. Just cause he didn’t take the chance to run through that opened portal doesn’t mean he isn't planning to rush them all back as soon as he could. No trade. Not anymore. Death best friend girl was going with him, sure as shit. Now he just had to make that happen.

“I can at least distract Monster Mutt, while you work on this family crap you got going on.” This was her history or something in this gate of death that wanted her to stay home. Or something.

He took a turn toward Semyon. Was he a dick hero type too.? That guy had to make his own choice. With a nod of his head Max gestured toward the opening. He could go. No reason he had to stay at all. But Max didn’t say anything. Why should he?

Instead he turned toward the growl that was growing. Max scrunched his face, lowered his shoulders and howled right back. Come on puppy.

Thad felt Max come and then go. That’s how it should be. That was right. And if Veti ever found out she would think so too. But something inside Thad felt his heart sink knowing he was so close to wrapping his arms around the woman he loved, really loved, and wiping her tears away. No, kissing them away. He could taste them. He could feel her. Yet he couldn’t.

He wasn’t there.

So instead of trying to work through the ache of sensing Veti but not feeling her, he turned toward the space in the colors of things where the death hole had opened and he found himself cheering for those pink curls to make it back. Come on Daisy. Come on.

[AmongHeroes]

With eyes anew, Atticus awoke to the world. Above, the stars shone with a supernatural brilliance, at first appearing only as blurred spots in the inky indigo of early morn, until at last the incubus’ focus drew them into fiery points of light. Blinking, he took stock of himself.

There was feeling in his limbs. His fingers, his wings, his tail; they all tingled with the sensation of life. With slow, intentional care, Atticus lifted his right hand before his vision, and peered at his flesh. Skin that had once shone bright crimson, now appeared only as a dull onyx smudge against the stars that silhouetted the hand. Puzzled, Atticus turned his hand about, his eyes squinting with realization that he no longer possessed the only color his demonic skin had ever known.

The infernal essence of Hell itself had changed the incubus, that much was apparent. As the fury of the netherworld had channeled its way through him, his very essence had evolved. As he focused on it now, Atticus could feel this shift, like a caterpillar emerging at last from its chrysalis. He was born again, different, yet inherently the same; an incubus, a demon, yet even more.

This born again demon came to reality then. He gasped, sitting up from the warm earth as his mind flooded with the recent memory of Fenris’ demise, and the valiant effort to save the world from the god wolf’s final act of destruction. He looked about, his eyes obsidian orbs with pupils of burning yellow, searched the sundered landscape.

His gaze found the scarlet brilliance of Veti, the angelic beauty of Gabriel, but no immediate sign of any of the other Bain & Hoyle members revealed themselves to him.

“Siya…?” Atticus called out, his voice at first a whisper. He spoke again, and yet again, his call raising in volume and urgency. “Siya? Siya!? Where are you?”

The incubus’ voice cracked as he made his way to his feet. Black wings, healed and grand trailed behind him as he stumbled about the rubble of Ardgroom.

“Siya!” He yelled. A single black, almost oil-like tear traced the line of his cheek.

[Lillian Thorne]

She had always been small, from the start she had been a tiny thing. Born of a petite mother and kept small through careful control of her caloric intake. Hunger had always been part of her reality and it was no different now. There was even less of her, yet the hunger was even greater. She lay in the shadow side of a bit of rubble and hurt. The protective coating of god-blood had burned off long before anyone had been able to help, the aid of the others had let her endure, but it wasn’t enough to stave off the considerable damage she’d taken. It was only the god-blood she’d consumed that let her continue existing, at least for a little while longer.

She sighed in the shadows that had become her second nature in the short time she’d possessed the piece of eight. She didn’t know what would become of it now, but she supposed she was beyond caring. The world could deal with it, the world which apparently still existed would have to figure something out. She was just so tired. She stared up at the lightening sky, dawn was coming. A time of beginnings, and for this little bit of char and hurt, likely an end. Stupid silly day birds began to sing as they started to wake. Unaware that while they slept their world nearly ended. The deep indigo of approaching dawn was light enough that it made her eyes water. Not tears, she wouldn’t cry. She blinked and the scorched, raw flesh of her eyelids protested the movement but it was just one of a myriad pains. Not even worth a moment’s notice.

She was small, she had always been small but her friend’s they were big. Large in all senses. Large in purpose and in destiny and she was proud to be their friend, even if she never managed to be a good one. She would never have to see Veti will herself to death over Max. She would never have to watch feel the sting of Atticus’ drifting attention again. But then she would miss so much. She would miss drinking with Veti, dancing with her, the display intended to foster jealousy and admiration in either the crowd or in a certain individual. Regardless of the reasons, it had been fun. Such a dance had been one of the things that there her in Veti’s path, before she’d even been turned. The way their two bodies moving together in such concert, hers with skill, Veti’s with feral grace made certain that any eyes that watched were pulled to them like eyes to a flame. She would miss seeing the way Max’s eyes lit onto Veti and burned. She would miss the terrible, unspeakable and delicious things she and Atticus had done to each other in their short association most of all. She would never had the chance to know him outside of those things, outside the role of being her boss. She would never get to spend time with him when the world was not at stake and it could be just her and just him.

Nothing was truly eternal, not really. Not a god-wolf and not a tiny little thing burned to a crisp, just so much rubble in a field of it.

The stupid day birds kept up their waking song, nothing as majestic has Henry’s work but it fit the moment, heralding a change, marking the start of a new day. She wondered how many who would see this day would understand how lucky they were to have it? Probably not many, it was best that way.

But then the stupid birds were joined by a new sound and it chased away even the thin veneer of peace and tranquility she’d managed to cast over her moment. Atticus, calling her name, the pain and panic in his voice a terrible thing to hear. She could not remain silent in the face of such pain. There would be no easy gentle slipping away, not for her. Shit.

She pulled air into her singed lungs, just enough to push out a weak reply.

“Atticus. I am here.”

She managed to lift a hand, the delicate fingers were but blackened flesh upon bone but they moved, if not without considerable pain.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Semyon had stepped up to the misty, slow-flowing surface of Daisy's portal before Max spoke. The Wight paused at the words, looking back to the man, then to the young Reaper, then to the gate.

Then, he sighed, a sound heavy as the northern winds echoing from the depths of his form.

"We all go through." He said, finally, shaking his head as if it might convince himself of the words. "No less."

It was the only choice. Even with Daisy's 'now-or-never' warning ringing within his skull, Semyon knew he wasn't going to step through that portal right now. She knew something he didn't, something important enough to stay in this place. Reaper or not, the land of Death did not seem any kinder to her as it had been to him... and Max was staying to. The one who had attacked Daisy from the start, who seemed to have found his senses, but had turned too quickly from one extreme to the other.

If it had been just Daisy left behind... No. Not even then, and certainly not now.

Settling in with his back to the portal, the Wight kept his eyes on the area around them. If Max wanted to try and distract Fenris -and knew of a way to do that- Semyon couldn't stop him. He could, however, hold off anything else that came their way, and once more let Daisy do what she needed to.

So exactly what he had been doing until now, with possibly less chance of leaving.

He wasn't sure how, but Semyon felt another heavy sigh welling up within. It didn't shake his resolve, however, and he stood steady to face whatever he had to before the three of them could leave.

[LimeyPanda]

Cold is not good for a being made of fire. Katagogi knew that, and Jay-Jay knew to panic about it. With the demon stuck in the middle of the sphere of death, rapidly becoming numb of all feeling, she was a slave to the sphere’s motions: The shaking, the flashing, it felt like they had failed, and had the demon more strength, she’d feel desolate at the thought. All she could do in the numb state of near-death was to keep pulling in anything she could, to try and make the difference: the saviour that no human would acknowledge, that exceeded her progenitor.

It took a herculean labour to find the energy to bring in more of the sphere, and just moments after she tried to, the sphere began to collapse in on itself. The feel of being smothered was an uncomfortable one, and she pushed out with her ragged willpower, with the thought of Jay-Jay’s form on her mind. The edges of her vision inside the sphere darkened and dimmed as the sensation of cold grew more and more. It was like the sphere was nullifying her: making the hot, cold; the bright, dull; the living, deceased. She almost welcomed the concept of death, as the sphere seemed to continue collapsing. Contrary to the outside of the sphere, inside it was peaceful: Serene, almost.

In the moments of calm, Kata wondered what it would be like to die. Demons so rarely died, at least not the elemental ones, such as her. She knew that this was her end though, and she embraced it. The act of exerting herself so much, absorbing so much entropy and death from Fenrir’s final act of hatred and spite, had left her used up.

It was at this point that the orb exploded outwards, a crescendo of bright light and serene beauty. Katago̱gí felt her body be flung away by the act, gliding on the rainbow trail created by the orb’s dispersal. It was a beautiful thought: that she’d succeeded and that she would go out in such a bang. She knew that Jay-Jay would be writhing behind the sealed off part of her mind, and yet the demon didn’t seem to mind that much.

A few hundred feet from the stones, the Demon’s body landed ungracefully on the ground and seemed to begin to disintegrate. As each inch of the Ifrit vanished into nothingness, it revealed Jay-Jay’s human form behind it: like the removal of a suit, one fibre at a time. The barrier that kept Jay-Jay locked up and safe inside the shared mind shattered, and the distraught host cried out at the vanishing demon. “Why do you have to go! Why did you lie to me? What about the promise?!” Despite her vanishing form, the cold Ifrit felt tears well up in her eyes. It was Jay-Jay’s body, but both of the creatures wept: true tears that seemed to sizzle down the over-warm skin.

”Eternity is a long time. I am far too old and far too lonely to regret doing what I did. By now, the shared body had mostly returned to human flesh. Everything below the shoulders looked like Jay-Jay, and one hand reached up to touch the demon’s face, one tender finger tracing a finger along the tear, feeling the comfortable heat.

“You said…You said when we started this that you’d protect me because I couldn’t protect myself. How are you going to do that now?” There was a defeat in Jay-Jay’s voice; A certain empty ring to the words, as if she already knew the response.

”Come now Jay-Jay. You’re a hero now, and I’m dying happy, most people don’t get that.” Half of Jay-Jay’s face was human flesh now, the disintegration almost complete. With one final sigh, the Ifrit offered one last thought to Jay-Jay: Host and friend. ”Besides, I’ve left a few embers behind. I may be gone, but you can start a new flame whenever. That’s the beauty of fire, all it needs is a little fuel.”

And then, she was gone. Jay-Jay was alone in the field, curled up in a ball and weeping at the loss of a demon.

---

Unlike most dead beings, who would swan dive into the rivers of Death, Katagogi floated down, blazing a trail of light and fire that was so atypical of the underscape. She thought briefly of old Hades, who once lay claim to the land of the dead. How much of that had been true, and how much was falsehood? He certainly wasn’t here now, and nor was the river Styx guided by a ship. Even Cerberus seemed like a lie now, despite the parallels that might have been drawn with the pink-haired one’s companion.

She recalled her times visiting this realm before, as her old hosts past away. It had been a disjointing feeling, knowing that you only had to pass through the realms of death: but each time had left her with a carnal interest. Death had seemed like such a peaceful being, despite what he entailed. She almost hoped he would indulge her in a few games before she finally died. Did death show favourites? Would he show an interest in her as she entered his realm for real? It was nice to think that her abnormality would entice him, as so few had ever actually wanted her. Prometheus had not sought her out, nor had any of her hosts: at least not intentionally. Even Jay-Jay had been made host to the demoness by chance, not by choice. Being chosen at the end would be…pleasant.

Something caught her eye in the endless waters of death. She had thought the passage would be quick, and yet death had not deigned to meet her yet. Instead, she saw a sight most unexpected: the Pink-haired one, as well as the Werewolf’s toy and the new, dead one. What was this trio doing in the underscape?

Then the thought crossed her, one that left her half amused and half aghast. Fenrir’s soul would be down here too, wouldn’t it? Was that why death took so long to greet her? Perhaps the God-wolf was putting up a fight, not that he would win. No one escapes death, neither god nor king nor hero.

It seems that the demon would have one last chance to say goodbye to a few members of the Bane and Hoyle group, not that she cared much past the reaper. The boy-toy had been an antagonistic force to Jay-Jay and the dead-one had not shared a word with her host. The fire-demon floated down towards Daisy and the duo, blazing out in the dark depths of death like a small sun. She didn’t say anything, but wrinkled her nose at the strange smell of decay.

[Hellis]

The pain that seared them, that ate them, a storm of anger, despair and defiance. He took it all in, his music rose to battle the roar of power from the world ending spell. As his eyes blazing with power, he could have sworn he heard a voice amidst the torrent of emotion. That of Jay Jay, despairing as her other half, the demon, did something so selfless, so stupid, that Henry felt a part of him die as well. She cut the link. She was going to die, and Henry would be unable to stop her. But he knew why, her intent had been clear. And then, Henry saw another person die. As to compensate, he wrapped Jay Jay with the remaining of his power, lifted the panic from her best he could. He was tired, he had neve done anything like this before, and now he could only watch as his friends stopped the world from ending. But it had worked. It had given them the strenght, the resolve to push trough. And now, this last stand of Jay Jays demon self.

The demon lived up to her linage, she consumed the massive, sundering ball of energy and Henry thought that at that moment, he might as well be watching a goddess. The blaze died out, and with it so did Henrys music. A silence fell on the field, every bit as powerfull as the song before it. The absence of sound was incredibly opressive to the musical being but he had no voice, his instrument wasn't speaking to him either. It was as if everything had left him. He walked acrossed the charred earth, eyes falling up Veti who cradled Thad in that same manner as she had Max a year before. He bit his lip, hearing his best friend call out in a way he never heard. He let tendrils of his last remaining power go out to them, cringing as he lifted the pain from their heart best he can. Another found Siya and he flinched visibly at her burnt body. He tried to channel some of his newfound power to help her aswell. All the while he walked across the brown and blackened earth and felt the grass crunch unaturally underneath his soles. He found his destination then, not realizing it untill he saw the crying, huddled up form of Jay Jay. He knelt over to her, his eyes searching for hers. Pain played across his blues like terrible shadows but he simply gathered her in his arms and let her cry into his chest instead of the cold, unforgiving earth. She had saved him from despair and the wolfs magic. But now it was his turn to save her from herself.

”Her sacrifice saved us, saved you. ” He spoke softly. ”Cry now, for today was a day of loss for us all. Wounds heal, so will you. And you will burn with a fire that would make her envius.” He held her chin up with two fingers. His lips curling in a small smile. ”

[The New Yorker]

Everything at Ardgroom, suddenly and with a uniquely human curiosity, awoke with discord as Gabriel locked his pistol’s safety. He slid the holy weapon of judgment into its holster at his right hip, its twin was set at his left thigh. The wingless angel stood calmly as Atticus seemed to glide across the ill-fated field of stones. Once standing and ancient, now destroyed and in pieces on the floor. In a way, the stones were still there, they’d just have to change the name to ”The Pile of Stones of Ardgroom”.

Atticus held his lover, Veti held hers. The fire-demon, which had been so instrumental in the destruction of the wolf-god, seemed to wither and die as well, leaving the red-head sorceress from earlier behind it. Everything was broken, people were surely missing, and the site, which held such victory in it, was seeped in sadness as well. At no other time did Gabriel feel the sting of the outsider more clearly than now, as he stood among the bent and broken, the battered and burned. How ironic, since Gabriel, in relation, was perhaps the most scorned and beaten out of all of the one’s who laid here. Those thoughts, which were so indulgent and pitiful, were sacrilege to the occasion, and so Gabriel cast them out as such.

Gabriel could not reach out to anyone in the quadrilateral of despair. The atmosphere was thick with fear and an optimistic heartbreak only love can bring. He could not penetrate the invisible and unspeakable barriers which were wont to encapsulate those with the disquieting dejection of death. There was an impenetrable space separating those who experienced loss and those who could not, like Gabriel. He was bemused for as to the whereabouts of the missing team-members, as well as the aforementioned lack of god-wolf carcass. The angel could not tell whether anyone who was left on the field was dying, he did not know if there were people yet lying among the rocks who would need help either. All the archangel knew was that he would not be of help to them. He was an arbiter, a soldier of special occasion who was stripped of all special skills and divine capabilities.

Gabriel felt the wind brush against his scarred back. He reached over his shoulder and merely rubbed the tip of the back-length scar which ran in vertical parallels. Then his hand came to rest behind his right ear, where he knew his mark to be, the mark of the outcast; Gabriel’s eternal moniker. The angel-turned-human wanted to cry then, he felt an overwhelming shutter pass through his body, a wave of emotion which was brought on by the tremor of psychological stress and physical distress. Instead he breathed and let the sorrow from his past life flow on in his stream of consciousness, sure it would resurface soon enough.

And Gabriel stood there at the center of the quadrilateral of despair, his arms folded in front of his bare-chest. He didn’t want to leave it, he made himself watch this sadness, because there was a kind of catharsis in the experience. Hell, if he could not truly feel it, he would live in it. If he could not take on the burden, own it, he could, at least, not ignore it.

[DotCom]

People -- almost people, near enough -- were dying again.

Daisy was as keenly aware of that as she was of Godwolf growing closer, angrier.

The solution presented itself to her far too quickly for her own liking. Idly, she wondered if Jay-Jay would ever be able to forgive her. She had no plans to forgive herself in the near future.

She stared at Max and Semyon, expression unreadable, though irritation and maybe something else were clear in her voice.

"Fine, then," she snapped, and then, as what remained of Jay-Jay's old protector settled among them, "Don't say I didn't warn you." She let the portal drop shut with a splash. Fenris's howl seemed to grow louder.

She turned and started walking without waiting for them to follow. They would have to, all of them, if they wanted to...'live' seemed a funny word for any of them at this point. Funny how fate shakes out. Funny, or fucked, or something in between.

"We're a fucking beacon," she started as she moved. "It isn't going to help any moving closer to the gate, but it's better if we're moving. There's no keeping our presence a secret now." She glared at Kata. "He knows we did this. He'll want revenge. Our best bet is to lock him back on the other side where you were," she nodded at Max. "And hope he doesn't have a determined lover waiting for him back with the others." It was supposed to be a joke, but Daisy felt herself shiver again. Her gaze drifted back to Semyon, unbidden.

"Right," she turned suddenly back to Kata and shrugged. "So, here there's supposed to be a big speech, maybe some hugging or crying or supplication, but time's short, so I'll just say this: you and Godwolf are both headed through the mist to...whatever the hell is on the other side. This asshole here knows better than I do, but then it's different for everyone, isn't it?" She gave Max another long, hard look. She still didn't trust him half as far as she could throw him, but this last team was all they had to send Fenris to his final death.

"You're both dead, you and him," she went on to the fire demon. "Once you're on that side, there's nothing else he can do to you. But here, in this place, we're all in deep shit if he catches up to us without a plan. So, here's the deal. You two -- " she pointed at Max and Semyon " -- you two play guard dogs again. Godwolf isn't the only one who'll have seen us coming, just the biggest. You -- " to Kata " -- your job is easy this time around. I say jump, you say how high. Or...y'know, just do it. Timing is all we got left. If he reaches you before you make it through..." She shook her head. "Don't let it happen."

The water lapped cold around Daisy's ankles. "I'll hold the Gate open," she said, staring straight ahead. "Questions? Too bad. No time. Ready. Set. Go."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Semyon was still in the land of the death. He was still standing vanguard alongside Max to drive away the restless creatures that tried to drag them down, and near death was as sure a thing as it had been since he was first dragged in here. Aside from the fact they were now on the move, refusing to go through the portal hadn't really changed much at all.

It was the fact he was growing used to this, that unsettled the Wight.

In a way it was to be expected. He had seen far too many soldiers terrified of combat, only to grow numb as the years dragged on. Tears fading to jokes and songs, shudders washed away under drink or shoved down beneath repeated sayings. Combat itself was nothing knew to Semyon, and the steady tide of monstrous dead that pressed against him helped lend a sense of familiarity to an otherwise alien world.

He still wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, however.

"By Dimitritch..." He muttered the litany quietly to himself, offering only a nod to Daisy before facing out to the world around them. Max he kept a closer eye on, fighting once more at his side, but recalling clearly how the man had all-but snapped before. The sudden change to clarity was welcome, but suspicious: A change one way could lead easily to a change the other.

But the dead came first. Crawling, grabbing, lunging things that Semyon fended away with brutal efficiency once more. Swift blocks, heavy throws and the occasional lunging, driving blow of his own limbs sent the beasts back or down to be swept away. No longer quite as dense as before, spreading out thanks to their group's movement across the area, the fighting became almost easy, a simple pattern he had been doing for over two hundred years.

There was nothing to do but fight, nothing to think but of the next counter, block or blow, and nowhere to go until Daisy had finished whatever she was planning on doing.

It was almost familiar.

[AmongHeroes]

Atticus heard the voice of Siya, and he spun about. Some distance from where he stood he could see a single tiny hand, charred and mangled, rise above a mound of broken earth. The ember-like pupils of his eyes flashed, and he stretched his obsidian wings. With one mighty beat, Atticus jumped from the ground, flying in a long arc that carried him to where Siya lay.

He landed softly, falling to his knees beside the tiny vampire. Almost instantly his infernal eyes welled with unnatural tears. Liquid gold filled the bottom of his vision, and eventually ran in shimmering rivulets down the valleys of his face.

“Oh Siya,” Atticus whispered to her, quiet with stunned disbelief.

Trembling hands reached towards the blackened flesh that made the delicate vampire almost unrecognizable. The golden droplets of Atticus’ tears fell in stark contrast against Siya’s skin as he bent forward to carefully envelope her with his arms. Slowly, and with consummate care, Atticus lifted Siya towards him.

As he drew her ever closer, his body rocked with silent sobs. The gold was streaming from his eyes now, and Atticus buried his face in the ruined mass of Siya’s once blond hair.

“Siya, you can’t go. Not like this. By all the gods, not like this. Not so soon.”

Though the world had been saved from the terrible will of the god-wolf, if this was the price, Atticus vowed to himself that it was too high. In that moment of sinking hope, regret was what he felt the most. A demon he was, and immortal at that. Born into the world of humanity like a giant among ants. Blessed with powers and with whit that had granted him dominion over a grand destiny, and a life of ill-gotten opportunities.

His years had been spent among carnal pleasures, heroic adventures, and clandestine dealings. Life for Atticus had been a game of relentless self-appeasement. It was a calling that came naturally to him, and he had never fought it. Being an agent of Bain & Hoyle had given him a star to set his compass by, a trajectory to a purpose, but Atticus knew that he had followed it on a circuitous route that left many broken in his wake.

Just like Siya, he thought.

Another sob wracked him, and Atticus lifted his head up. He blinked away the golden tears, and looked into the eyes of the only creature that had ever captured his heart.

“Let me try and fix this,” he said to Siya. “Just don’t slip away, please don’t let go of this world.”

Without looking away, Atticus cradled Siya in his lap, and raised his left hand towards the black horns that sprouted from above his brow. A quick jab sent one of the sharp points through his left wrist, and as Atticus withdrew his hand, he could feel warm blood running down the length of his arm.

He brought his wrist to Siya’s cracked lips, and he pressed the bleeding wound gently to her mouth.

“Please, take whatever you need. Take it all if it means you will be whole again.”

[tirgesfu]

“Fuck wolf face,” Max snarled. “They want a trade? Shit,” He stomped alongside Semyon and eyed the guy as if he would know what he was going on about, “We’ll ante up and call them out. Death Shit and Wolf Fuck can screw each other forever in this hell hole swamp. There’s the trade.”

“You hear that!” Max turned as he walked and spread his arms out calling to whatever had crept inside him. “Now that’s trading up.” Seymon was handling the little shits just fine and Max was just yelling offering a swing once and awhile, “We bring you some mighty dog faced god who could just lick the shit right out of you. Yea, right into your house, your place. Can you handle that? I don’t think so. But hey, give it a shot. I’ll even help ya out.” He paused and looked to Daisy almost adding like he did last time. Except he didn’t really. Still. It wasn’t like he wanted to be on either of these sides. Just that sometimes its easy to sneak out when the big boys play.

So come on puppy. Come on death breath. Let’s rumble.

He moved quickly toward Daisy making sure whatever comes answering his call didn’t separate him from her. He was sure Semyon knew to do the same. And who was late to this party? You to hot chick. Just that Max was not real certain they were not going anywhere but down. The chill wanted Reaper Girl, but hey why take a chick when you could have a god?

The howl came with such a force all the water around his legs vibrated. Waves splashed up his thighs and the creepy things slunk off. If Max was right the temperature got warmer too. He could feel jaws snap as if they were all around them. It was sounded like the door, the gate was shutting. There in front of them were huge obsidian pearls. Black eyes in the black.

If this was it, Max was going to make it count.

Instead of beating off the slimy things that tried to tug his legs He graded hold of one slippy beast and swung it right toward those stone casting eyes. Then he reached quick to find another.

“Eat up fido. We got lots.” He screamed above the roar of Fenris. “We’re gonna feed him all your playthings death swamp.” Max yelled over his shoulder toward where he hoped something from this death trap, something that was after Daisy and something she fears, would hurry up and get into this. He tossed a few from under the water over them all towards the dark form that was fast becoming something more real.

If his entrance and freedom exploded in green flashes of power, in quakes of the ground at his feet, in flashes of lightening rippling from his back, in the world of the living, here in death Fenris detonated the misty blackness with waves of greenish gray that crackled in snaps of irritated fury. He howled more than roar but it did not seem like pain to Max. It was more in line with desperate anger. Max knew that sound. Fenris wailed in disbelief until he somehow took in the taunts and calls Max had places. Or so Max believed. Wanted to believe.

“Look at your new world to conquer, Fenris. Suck up the swamp, monster mutt.”

Max felt something whip across his legs and knock him right into the water. It was cold and familiar. It was there. But this time it was not only inside him. It was all around. Max took a deep breath and whispered, “Let’s make a trade.”

He turned in the muck and wrapped his arms around nothing but freezing cold swamp. He took hold of the chill and breathed it in, sucked it inside. Taking all he could. This time he didn’t fight it. This time he understood.

Before he lost all of Max he called, “Daisy. Daisy.” With a deeper chill than Max ever had, the words left him in some silent way more than the yells he just shouted. He aimed them to Daisy. “Go through the gate.”

With the cold taking over, the deep freeze surging through his body again even more so than the last time, Max flew from the swamp right toward those back eyes of Fenris. It was his trade. Let the death force use him and let the others go. Run pink girl scout. Take your friends and cookies and run.

[Lillian Thorne]

Siya had been falling into blackness like she’d never seen before. Cool nothingness that she was certain would have been a welcome relief. Was that death? Or was it simply the place creatures like her went after their stolen time was over. She had been cheated, first from her mortal life and now from her unnatural life. Neither of which had been long enough but for all that she had been done until Atticus had called her back into her pain, pulling her back into the agony that she had been fleeing from. His voice and nothing else had kept her from slipping away into sweet oblivion.

She smiled up at him, his new form glorious to her ruined vision and she regretted that she would never be able to do terrible things with him in that guise. She smiled even though his gentle touch made her skin crack and split, seared flesh parting all the way to the bone. His large body, black and beautiful sheltered her but for the tips of her toes, blotting out the weak but rising sunlight. That small relief was a blessing even though the tips of her scorched toes had begun to smolder in the growing light.

“Oh Atticus,” she murmured, pain in each word as she forced screaming muscles to move her jaw. As she spoke a bit of charred flesh flaked off of her jaw and fluttered to rest on his arm where it cradled her. “You are so beautiful, I am sorry we have no more time.”

Distantly she heard his sobbing words, they echoed down to her as if from a great distance. She smiled at him, the expression ghastly though it was intended to be comforting. He wanted to fix this, how very sweet was her demon lover. She wanted to tell him it was too late, that she hurt too much and the damage to her tiny body had been too extensive. She wanted to tell him she was done, that she was too tired to continue but she couldn’t. Her cracked eyelids fluttered and her ruined body stilled just as the first drop of his potent blood hit her lips.

Her stillness was complete for a long, terrible moment. The day-birds, crying in the dawn, singing of change seemed to hold their breath as the demon bled into the mouth of his dead lover. Her open mouth filled with blood, a thin rivulet slipping from the corner to run across the spot where the skin had flaked off, her toes continued to smolder as the growing daylight rose.

Then without warning in some sort of concert that was undetectable, the birds began their cacophony again and the tiny ruined throat worked, the blood that had filled it vanishing but once. Though her eyes did not open and she did not swallow again, there was not the strange stillness to her ruined body that spoke of an empty void, something of Siya lingered still.

[LimeyPanda]

The Ifrit merely watched as things went about as they always do: chaotically, an unorganized mess, a plan made complex by contrasting personalities. One of them acted loyal and confused: swatting away the dead and protecting the slightly less dead. Another tried to orchestrate the insanity, a broken fragment of this world trying to splinter away from the realm of the dead.

And then there was Max: detestable at times, yet lovable at others. He sought to liberate the others: A last moment of heroism, following a strange life indeed. Kata didn't know what to think of the man, if she were honest. Jay-Jay had held animosity towards it, but Kata couldn't find that same level of dislike. He was trying very hard, it seemed, and while others would surely agree he was a trying individual, the Ifrit still struggled to fault him.

Daisy was interesting in the way she led the situation. She made assumptions of Kata that were interesting, to say the least. It seemed like the Reaper was sorry that the spirit had died: as if the death was an accident, or as if it were not desired. The urge to correct her was there, but she chose not to in the end. After all, it seemed that she had one last part to play in the lives, or deaths: as it were, of Bane and Hoyle's employees.

Daisy's words were interesting in another way, for she described the group as a beacon. If the detestable-yet-lovable Max picked up on this, or it was merely coincidence, but the strange Warlock made a show of himself: acting the perfect example of a beacon as one could find in a textbook. The Ifrit couldn’t help but be amused by the show of bravado: it seemed so out of place, and yet so very correct at the same time. Kata was tempted to go and help him in the show of brazen disrespect towards the god, but then she also wanted to offer the reaper a chance to fulfil her plan. Instead, she decided to offer the Warlock something to work with, she threw a little ball of fire that seemed to float next to the Warlock: a strange, unearthly heat. Let us see what the warlock can do with a dash of demonfire.

“Whatever it is you need to do, Reaper, do it. I’m ready to sleep, but dragging Fenris in with me would be a final delight.” The Ifrit looked at Daisy and offered a smile. Perhaps it was remnants of Jay-Jay’s feelings for the girl as a friend, but she liked Daisy well enough that she trusted her to be the one that ‘killed’ her. It felt more personal that way: soothing, almost.

---

Jay-Jay had not expected to be consoled or comforted. She had thought that being alone would make things easier, but in the end: she felt a glad-ness for Henry’s presence. Solitude had made her more uneasy, as the silence spoke so much louder than the words of condolence that the Siren offered. To be so alone and so silent, after so long a period of shared tenancy was…

She sobbed wordlessly into the Siren’s chest, eyes closed and tears fresh. She knew that she shouldn’t be sad: that it was such a selfish sadness that was overtaking her. Kata had given herself to save others: it was a noble death, and a death that she had sought. Jay-Jay had been aware of the demon’s memories: of her sad creation and swift rejection on all sides. The end had been a comfortable time for Kata, a time in which her purpose shone brighter than any other flame might.

And yet, Jay-Jay missed her. The demon host missed her companion who had played so many roles: mentor, protector, occasional mocker. It was a selfish sadness, but wasn’t sadness so often selfish?

She tried to find words to say to Henry: Words of thanks or apologies for the show of selfishness or words to refute what he said. Anything would be better than silence, because silence just reminded her of what was gone. She saw the Siren’s small smile, an offer of a new tomorrow, maybe. A little promise that the world had not ended, just changed. “It’s…It’s kind of funny. Our own little worlds…destroyed and remade. Our own…our own little Ragnarök.” She tried to offer the Siren a smile, but ultimately failed. She fell back into the motions of selfish sadness, sobbing into his chest once more.

[AmongHeroes]

Atticus held Siya, watched as his offered blood pooled inside of her mouth, and cried. The lines of liquid gold tears that streamed down his face dripped from his jaw and cheeks, coming to land in bright pools upon the scorched and ruined skin of the vampire. Time, the oft disregarded element of those that bore the title of ‘immortal,’ was having its day, and there seemed to be none left for Atticus to pin his hope upon.

The black wings wilted like flower petals amidst parched air, drifting down to envelope the obsidian incubus. They covered him as the folds of a funeral shroud might do, encompassing Atticus in living sorrow, and tangible regret.

He had no words to add to the songs of the birds. There was no loving riposte he could make to Siya’s last utterance of adoration. Atticus saw the rays of the new son kiss her flesh, and he watched as the pool of his black blood was taken in one final gulp into his love’s body. Stillness remained, lingering to taunt the final threads of hope to their breaking point.

The strain was almost too much for those threads. Atticus wrestled mightily with his emotion, torn between what he saw and sensed, and the tiny warmth of inner notion that something of Siya yet remained in the husk of her body. In the end it was hope that won the day in the demon’s heart, at least enough hope to not relinquish himself fully to the depths of anguish.

With reverent care, Atticus bent to kiss the coarse flesh of Siya’s forehead. He drew her to him fully, shrouding her in the great leathery folds of his wings, guarding her from the malicious light of a welcome, and yet baleful sun.

Across the broken ground he walked. His ember-like gaze scanned the horizon, taking in those that remained. So few he could see. The riven battlefield was a testament to sacrifice. Some were held in the embrace of consolation, others clutched at the mortal shell of the one they loved, and yet others stood alone and uncertain in the aftermath.

Atticus kept walking. He did not stop to share in the experiences of his compatriots. Perhaps callous was the word for his detachment, but in that moment the incubus only had enough hope to carry his own feet forward. In the face of all the god-wolf’s scars, Atticus had the chance to heal but one, and he would not allow this place of despair to anchor him. He would have to make amends later to the others he cared about, if he could find the strength to face them ever again.

With the light of the growing dawn meeting his black face, he walked onward. The new day blanketed him with its warmth, and Atticus clutched his wings tighter to shield the tiny body held in his arms. He stopped abruptly as he did so, lifting his eyes to the clear blue sky, and the soaring figure of the eagle far overhead.

For a time Atticus merely watched the majestic creature ride the tides of the air, marveling silently at the outstretched wings, and the freedom borne upon them. This creature that had heralded the end of the god-wolf, and the beginning of the new world, stared back at the incubus from high above, unwavering and stern.

“Let this be enough,” the incubus whispered to the great bird. “Ask no more of us.”

And with that last utterance, a cloud of dark smoke and crackling embers enveloped both Atticus and the body of the vampire, and as it was forced apart by the breath of the morning wind, nothing in its place remained.