A flash of light and the scent of brimstone brought us back to the negotiation room. Somehow, the already gothic colors seemed more muted than before, almost desaturated. Maya's lingering gaze never left me, confirming that she'd pieced together the same revelation I had.
And she wasn't the only one with unspoken questions.
Ozra, Loria, and Vogrin all seemed unsettled by the revelation. It was obvious why—their discomfort entirely too similar to mine when I'd first discovered the cycle of life and rebirth had been hijacked, warped into something far different from what I'd believed. Ozra, specifically, seemed overly suspicious, watching all three of us intently, waiting for some sort of explanation or tell.
Slowly, my little sister's sobbing subsided, the perpetual cringe faded, and she grew rigid in my arms. The only remaining indication she'd lost her nerve, as she removed my arms and stepped forward, was the glistening tear-streaks on her face.
"I understand that something damaging was done to me, either through trickery or some other means. And now, thanks to your generosity, I understand the method—" Her voice caught, and she held a fist to her mouth, holding it there and gathering her wits before she dropped it. "What I cannot comprehend, whether the perpetrator is Thoth herself using some travesty of magic, or someone else using her likeness to inflict terror on me, is why. Why would anyone do such a thing? Why to me specifically? I have no enemies. Both my brother and sister stand out more and have greater value to the kingdom. I'm insignificant in the grand scheme of things compared to them. I'm—" She choked a little, then recovered. "I'm no one."
Vogrin crossed his arms and turned towards Ozra, waiting for the arch-fiend's permission. Reluctantly, Ozra slowly nodded. Vogrin cleared his throat and levitated forward, standing directly in front of Annette but addressing all three of us. "What I'm about to tell you is not common knowledge, even among demons. It is a relic of a more brutal, primitive time. There are aspects of it that are shameful. Some—the more fanciful and inventive among us—believe the discovery and the transgressions that followed are the reason the fae realms were sundered, struck down through direct intervention from the gods."
"Eventually repurposed into the hells." Maya's jaw dropped, her voice shaken with awe. "I thought that was nothing more than a fairy tale. A story infernal parents used to help children overcome their fear of demons."
"A misconception the conglomerate of disinformation has worked quite hard over the centuries to sustain." Vogrin grimaced, pausing to glance at each of us, imparting the emphasis. "We would not be speaking of this if the situation did not call for it. It has been so thoroughly obfuscated that even if you were to take leave from this meeting and rush back to the enclave and recount every detail to them directly, you would be laughed out of their chambers. Still, we would appreciate it if you did not."
"That depends. If it's truly ancient history with no bearing on the present, there's no need to wag tongues. But I refuse to play the part of an infernal turncoat and hide demonic transgressions from my people."
"I'd reconsider that." Vogrin challenged, head tilting towards Annette. "For her sake."
"Vogrin—" Ozra placed a hand on his forehead, as if warding off a headache. "They're already aware, infernal. No secret survives the rigors of time. It either dies with a single person or spreads, with nothing in between."
"Who knows?" Maya challenged.
"A few individuals who hold power in the Enclave. Some in obvious places, others less." Ozra waved dismissively, hiding a smirk. "The truth is disclosed to a handful of such individuals, every generation, to ensure the balance of power remains in check."
"And why would a people who so voraciously obsess over secrecy in even the smallest matters do such a thing?"
"Did you hear that, Vogrin? She called us people."
Vogrin grunted something that only passingly resembled amusement. Maya didn't so much as blink.
Still tickled by his own joke, Ozra continued. "If we don't, history has a tendency to repeat itself. Infernals are curious by nature. Curious in all things, but especially in avenues of magic and matters of the soul. That's why it's important there are those in power capable of curtailing or redirecting certain areas of advancement and research." He paused, giving Maya a coy look. "If any doubt remains, I'd advise seeking Ralakos's guidance on the matter. In person, of course."
The namedrop had the desired effect. Planted a seed of doubt that defused reticence. Maya frowned, reluctantly accepting the suggestion. "Fine. I'll keep anything discussed here to myself for now. But I will seek confirmation later."
"See that you do." Ozra replied, unbothered.
Vogrin took a long breath and began, addressing Annette. "We believe what has been done to you is a form of purposeful denouement. It should not be possible. But given what you are, and the state of your soul, it is the only explanation that makes sense."
Annette's forehead wrinkled as her brows drew together. "Denouement refers to... the end of something, does it not?"
"There is some nuance lost in translation, but broadly, yes." Vogrin agreed. "We've briefly touched on the nature of souls in your tutoring. Do you remember what makes them different from every other source of power?"
"Nature inherently expends its energy." Annette recited. "A tree will grow quickly at first and slow with age before it dies. An old man has a fraction of the energy of a child. Even the ley lines beneath our feet will eventually grow dim and fade, the mana they provide becoming fallow and resistant before it disappears entirely. The only exception is a soul." ṛa????oBÊṣ
"Correct." Vogrin smiled, pleased. "A freshly created soul is unremarkable. Practically worthless. Their only noteworthy quality at the early stage is durability. It requires many reincarnations before the first blemishes and scars form, and more still before the disfigurement deepens into fissures and schisms capable of retaining fragments of the divine mana required for reincarnation. After the soul reaches this state, only then will the current incarnation be capable of wielding a single element."
"That much is known," I realized, flashing back to a conversation I'd had with Ralakos what felt like lifetimes ago. "Or at least suspected."
"The underlying thought is mostly the same." Vogrin pursed his lips, searching the tattered side pocket of his satchel until he fished out a ring, which he placed on his middle finger. "A theory that has persisted for eons, bearing countless names. Viewed purely as a philosophical concept it holds little issue. But when it's taken to logical conclusion, well, that is when the sort of problems that undo creation begin to form."
Vogrin squeezed his fist that bore the artifact at his side, then made a circular gesture in front of him. Shadows took shape in the form of humans—only differentiating themselves as they became more cohesive and colorful. Their skin was gray, hair white and pigmentless, similar to the eyes, which reminded me of an infernal's. The illusion depicted a thoroughfare in a large, ethereal settlement washed in gold, silver, and light, the architecture so drastically different from ours that it was difficult to draw obvious connections.
"There are not many reliable accounts regarding the Fae. What we can be certain of is that they were already advanced in matters of magic and science when most mortals in adjacent realms were still wearing loincloths, chasing prey with sharpened sticks. We know they were likely soulless. And like any being capable of intelligent thought, they coveted what they did not have."
The image flickered and changed, showing one of the Fae approaching green, fearful-looking creatures that could have been precursors to goblins. The fae had altered its appearance to better match the goblins, though the hair, skin tone, and eyes remained the same.
"To our ancestors' credit, their first efforts were reasonable. The offers were pragmatic, fair, securing benefits for both sides. 'Lend me your soul and I'll feed your clan for a decade. Grant it indefinitely, and you'll know comforts that head you rest on a cave floor cannot possibly imagine.'"
Maya cut in angrily. "They didn't even have the capacity to understand what they were giving up. The concept of reincarnation didn't exist yet."
"Their problem. Not the Fae's. Arguably, the prehistoric world they were 'stolen' from offered little in comparison. Monsters present today, even those that reside in the deepest reaches of the sanctum, cannot hold so much as a dying candle to the true terrors that plagued the wilds. Mortals died quickly and in great numbers. The wheel of reincarnation took their souls from a brutal plane, and according to the gods' arbitrary rules, spit them back out to die again. Comparatively, those who were elevated to the fae realm lived in bliss. They were given clothing, domiciles, entire domains where they were allowed to live out their lives and raise families, treasured and pampered like prize livestock that would never be slaughtered. In return, the Fae harnessed the divine mana housed in their souls, granting them what they could previously only simulate through painstaking effort and little return. The arcane."
"How noble." Maya rolled her eyes. "Where did it all go wrong?"
"Literacy." Vogrin grated. "There was always a chance of conflict before. But as the mortals' grasp on the spoken word became more nuanced, and they developed written language, for the first time, information circulated. Stories of monsters in the guise of mortals who—if you allowed them—would spirit away children and loved ones by force. Violence was commonplace and superstition ran rampant. Elevations became more arduous to secure. From what little we know, there were two schools of thought. The first argued for a slow of growth, limiting use of divine mana to what was maintainable with what The Fae already possessed until they worked out a solution to the new obstacles."
"And the second was to dispense with the niceties and start taking them by force." I finished.
"It was more contested than you're probably willing to believe, but yes. That was the end result." Vogrin shrugged. "Their argument was that the result was the same. At that point the mortal realm was still a more hellish place to live than the Fae realm ever had been. Some of the great monsters were gone, but minor wars over territory and theism filled the gap just as quickly. Supposedly, even mortals taken against their will acclimated to the new environment quickly, most happy to concede their souls after a matter of days."
"And those who weren't?" Maya asked.
Vogrin averted his gaze and continued. "With new strategies arrive new leaders to herald them. And in this shifting of tides, Lycaon rose to power."
"Earlier, Ozra implied you visited Lycaon... do the Azmodials have an honest-to-god fae held captive?" I asked, having trouble even imagining it.
"There are no fae left." Vogrin clarified. "Any who survived the sundering became demons. Punishment for their avarice. Not that it matters—if the legends are to be believed, Lycaon's preferred form was reportedly hellish from the beginning. If he had been released rather than blinded and forever imprisoned, he likely would have been the one Fae comfortable with the changes."
The demon snapped his fingers, and a translucent wolf took shape, hulking and muscular, bound by thousands of interlocking chains that sheened with crimson, bulging around too-large shoulders and overgrown, unkempt fur. Countless fingers of all shapes and sizes gripped his neck tightly like a wreath of worms, forming a collar.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling my surprise, disguising it as confusion. Vogrin's conjured image gave a false impression of size. Made him appear not much larger than a dire wolf.
But the true Lycaon was massive. As tall as a manor and nearly as wide, with a deep rumbling voice to match. In our many encounters I'd wondered of his nature. He'd never spoken to me in demonic, but something about his cadence implied the connection. He'd never done anything tangible enough to confirm it outright, but he'd never told me his name, either.
My sister was precious.
Given that, when he glanced over at me, I mouthed the only words I could reasonably say.
"Thank you."
"Bringing us back to Lycaon, just briefly." Maya put a comforting hand on Annette’s back as she addressed Ozra. "I understand the purpose the chronal magic and sequestering the soul serve. What's less clear is how the second taboo factors in. Abominations. We encountered them in the Sanctum, did we not?"
Memories of fighting through adolescent infernals twisted beyond recognition over and over surfaced. Limbs twisted and split like branches of trees, gaping faces leering, wielding wild, tainted magic that made the very air crackle with the scent of burning flesh.
"Not exactly," Ozra settled back into his usual smugness. "What you encountered were innate abominations, transformed by the tainted mana of a dying ley line. Formidable by pedestrian standards. But they pale in comparison to true abominations. The monsters Lycaon created to inflict his torment. Demons, before demons came to be."
Maya rolled her eyes. "Do they have a name to go along with the reputation?"
"They do. Though you would not know it." Ozra mused. "They are rarely spoken of. Most believe them gone, destroyed along with the rest of Lycaon's legacy. Imagine my surprise, when I discovered its presence in the sewers. I cannot tell you this particular one's origin, nor its master. Parsing those details would be a breach from which I could not recover. But it is the purpose of this meeting. The embodiment of fear itself. And its name is Lithid."
What felt like a lifetime later, we emerged into the sunlight, the shadows of the demonic chamber fading as the revelations clung on, souring in the wind's stench of sewer.
In a matter of seconds, someone grabbed the neck of my armor and yanked me forward. "Where the hells were you?" Sera's voice revealed the identity of the silhouette as my eyes adjusted to the light. "It's been hours. I didn't know what to do, what to tell the men—"
"At ease, banner lieutenant." I managed. To her credit, Sera released me, scowl now visible beneath the blazing sun. "I know what we're fighting. And, more importantly, how to fight it."
"Well, what is it?" Sera demanded. "Changelings? Something vampiric?"
Closer than you think. Yet somehow worse.
"There's little point in repeating the same information twice. I'll address the regiment in a moment."
"Fine."
I reconsidered, calling out after she'd already turned away. "Sera."
She stopped and turned. "Yes?"
"You were always fearless growing up, throwing yourself into the sort of trouble Annette and I did our best to stay clear of. Almost vindictive in your rebellion."
"And?" She crossed her arms, likely expecting me to advise caution.
I thought about the best way to say it. "I need that version of you now. We all do. The men who decided to follow you, they'll need you to fight for them to get through this. This is your chance to prove yourself as their direct report and a leader."
Slowly, she let her arms drop. "It's that bad?"
"Make sure everyone's prepared and alert. Follow the instructions I give the rest of the Banner Lieutenants, and we'll get through this."
"Sure..." Sera trailed off, as Annette stumbled up beside me, a little dazed. "Nettles. You alright?"
"Been better." Annette admitted, as she looked up at me in shame. "I... I... I'm not sure that—"
I put a hand on her forehead gently, stopping her. "Get one of the soldiers to take you home, little sister. With haste. No arguments."
"Okay." She agreed quickly, relieved. "I'll uh... find one that's weary, unlikely to handle the sewers well."
"Good thinking."
Sera stared after Annette as she trudged towards the greater regiment, blinking several times as our sister inspected the group of soldiers, eventually singling one out. "Did she just... run away—"
"Princess Annette is returning to the castle on my orders." I interjected. "And on the subject of orders..."
"Yes, yes, your eminence, I'm going." Sera grumbled, though her heart wasn't in it. Behind her, our arrival had been noticed as more and more heads turned my way.
"You'll need to address them soon." Maya said, taking her place at my side. "If you wait too long—"
"The lithid will have more to feed on. I'm aware."
"This will be hardest on you." Maya observed, her voice tinged with worry.
"Perhaps. But... that's the way it should be." I admitted, looking over the regiment, feeling a swell of pride despite the circumstances. "They're here because they chose to follow me. I don't want them to die for that choice. If it takes me first, their chances only get better." I reached over and interlocked my fingers with hers. "And we both know what you face won't be any easier."
"If it takes me, I hope it dredges up that wretch from the trial." Maya's mouth twisted in hatred. "It will bring no end of pleasure to slide a dagger between her ribs."
"At times you frighten me, Ni'lend." I admitted.
"Often, I frighten myself," Maya mused, words heavy with meaning. "We should be vigilant in what we say."
"There are ears everywhere in Whitefall."
"More today than ever. The wisest course would be to speak of this later, but given what we face, it seems more necessary than usual to set my mind at ease." She squeezed my hand tightly. "When our host was reciting his history... was I imagining it?"
"No."
It all lined up perfectly. How the metamorphosis society perfected that final, desperate effort to meddle with time before the world ended. They’d gone to the source. The progenitor of evil.
Lycaon. The Black Beast.