Twilight of the Gods

“I can’t do that!” Julia exclaimed.

She was sitting on the floor of the cage, fingers tangled in her honey hair. The look of despair on her face was comical. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she wore a frown that pulled at the edges of her face.

“You can if you want to leave this cage,” Daeva said. She sat calmly on the floor across from Julia, unwilling to budge from her request.

“It’s not that simple. I can do anything else you want me to. Just not this. I swear it,” she pleaded.

“Remove the Binding Chains and I will set you free.” Daeva pointed to her neck where the chains lay beneath her skin.

“You’re not listening to me. I can’t remove the chains, at least not alone. All seven of us need to unlock them to take it out of your body,” she explained.

Daeva mulled over her words. Damn Ezra! Leave it up to him to overcomplicate things. But that didn’t mean Julia couldn’t help.

“Do all seven of you have to unlock the chains at the same time?”

Julia looked away. “Answer me,” Daeva said. After a moment of silence, Daeva let out a frustrated huff.

“What are you afraid of? I can’t kill you. Nyx won’t allow it.” She stared at the Elysian for what seemed like an eternity before she finally lifted her head up to meet her eyes.

“I’m afraid of you. You’re a monster.” Daeva didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. A part of her couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did the person who tortured her for several months just call her a monster? Her mouth tried to form words in response, but no sound came out.

“What did you just call me?” She asked this in a low voice, a feeble attempt to be gentle with the Elysian.

“You’re not deaf,” Julia sneered. “You heard what I said. You’re a monster. You’ve got crazy red eyes and you don’t even bleed the same as us.” She stood up, staring at Daeva defiantly as if the bars of the cage had disappeared.

If Daeva was in the Mortal Realm, she would’ve dealt with Julia’s insolence the same way she had done away with all those soldiers in the past. But things were different in Otherworld. The Elysians were different, operating within different rules. She’s trying to provoke me. What does she want me to do?

“I am a God,” she said calmly. “I look and bleed the way I do because of the magic in my body, a body you had no trouble eating for sustenance.” She maintained eye contact, trying to read her intentions through the emotions she saw. All she observed was hatred, pure and simple.

“We are Gods,” Julia spat. “The people of the Mortal Realm, whether they be Myranian or Ylivian, love us. They listen to us. They worship us. You are a murderer.”

There it was, the Elysian war rhetoric. Bitter and acerbic like she was still living in the conflict. But Daeva never fought in the war between Gods and Elysians. She was merely caught in the aftermath when Ezra had invited her to Otherworld as an unwilling prisoner of war.

“I don’t want to rule or control the mortals like you do,” she said. “You heard the wish I gave to Nyx. I never wanted the Board. All I’ve ever desired was a normal life.” Her voice wobbled a bit at the end despite her attempts to steady it.

What she said was mostly true. She wanted a normal life, but she also wanted to keep her power as a God. They had made her suffer for it so she felt that she deserved to keep it. It was the least the universe could owe her after robbing her of her past identity.

“I don’t believe you,” Julia said. “You’ve lied to me before.” She had the impertinence to look hurt.

Daeva frowned. Perhaps the soft approach was ineffective.

Make Julia suffer. The Board’s words echoed in her head. Anticipation thrummed in her veins.

“Then you can stay here,” she said. She turned her back to the Elysian, marching away from the cage to a dimly lit area of the room.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave me here. Come back!” Julia’s shrieks echoed across the room, falling on deaf ears.

It served her right to be trapped in a cage of her own design. Of course, Tristan had helped her build it as he was the cleverest of the Elysians, but the purpose of the cage and the torture devices that could be summoned at a push of a button were her brainchild.

Daeva sat behind the control board for the cage, contemplating which torture device to bring out first. She decided to start with something that would convey the gravity of her request: floor spikes.

She pulled a lever and immediately heard screams from across the room. She pushed a few more buttons and the screams grew louder, rising to a crescendo. Finally, she stopped playing with the control board and walked back to the cage.

Three large metal spikes were sticking out of Julia’s left leg, their pointy tips coated in blood. Another metal spike was embedded in her arm, leaving her virtually paralyzed. If she wasn’t in so much pain, Daeva was certain that the Elysian would be glaring daggers at her.

“There’s a fundamental difference between you and me,” Daeva said. “You’re a delusional mortal. I am a real God. If I press the right buttons, you will die.”

The fair-haired woman sneered at her. “You’re not allowed to kill me.”

“I’m not allowed to wish for your death. I can still kill you. Accidents happen.”

Julia remained unfazed. “If I die, you will never be free of the chains.”

But I will be free in my heart. Countless sleepless nights spent remembering her torture would go away if she killed the Elysians. She would have her revenge. And for the first time since her rebirth, she would know peace.

As if she could read her thoughts, a panicked expression returned to Julia’s face. “You’re seriously considering it.”

Daeva doesn’t respond, but her silence was all Julia needed to sink into despair.

“Fine,” the Elysian said. “I will free you. But you have to keep me alive.”

Back at the palace where the rest of the Elysians were residing, Haydn was wandering the halls, bored and listless. A few mortal women notice him, giggling as they went by. He paid them no mind, preoccupied with thoughts only he was privy to.

Evelyn is here. Those three words were on the slip of paper that the Board gave him. The thing he wished for with every fiber of his being was here right under his nose. The question was, where?

He had fulfilled his end of the bargain with Nyx already. Bring Daeva to Otherworld and she would give Evelyn to him. But the Lady of the Night was a sly creature. She was making him work for this to participate in her game.

He had no clue what her plan for them was and frankly, he didn’t care. He was a sinner in the purest sense. He would gladly take all the punishment that the world had to offer him if it meant seeing her again.

Because he didn’t deserve it, not after what he had done to her.

In his years as a God, he had come up with hundreds if not thousands of ways to apologize to her. And in those countless scenarios, he could only picture himself being scorned by her. If he was feeling finicky, he’d imagine her slapping him in the face. At least he’d have the pleasure of being touched by her one more time.

He summoned her image, using his powers of illusion to conjure up his best memory of her. His recollection of her was growing hazy, an unfortunate consequence of being razed by the sands of time.

But still, he tried to bring her to life. He painted her rich, ink-black hair and molded her warm, dark skin. Then, with careful precision, he sculpted her face, polishing her inquisitive eyes and plumping her full lips.

“Good morning Evelyn,” he said, speaking to the illusion. He snapped his fingers, bringing her to life.

She takes in a breath, sucking in the air as if she were a real, living person who needed to fill her lungs and keep her heart beating.

“Good morning Haydn,” she said, greeting him with her soft, lilting voice. She curtsied to him, grabbing fistfuls of her dress and bending slightly toward him.

He felt a painful ache in his chest. This was too real. Watching her move reminded him of why he rarely conjured up her image. Each time he did so seemed to hurt more than the last.

“I miss you,” he said, letting every bit of emotion he felt drip into his voice.

“I miss you too,” she replied, mouth opening like a puppet whose strings he pulled. He felt himself break in two. She ruined him even when she wasn’t really there, even when it had been years since he’d seen or touched her.

Looking around to make sure that he was alone, he continued to speak to her. “I love you and someone tells me that you’re here. Wouldn’t you like to see me again?”

“Yes,” she said. He made her smile even though she rarely did so in the flesh. It was a reward he didn’t deserve. He felt a squeezing sensation in his chest. The guilt was overwhelming.

He snapped his fingers and her image disappeared.

A drop of water splashed on his hands. He looked outside, but not a single cloud dotted the sky. He realized, to his dismay, that his face was wet with tears.

Haydn didn’t cry. He was fairly certain that he couldn’t. At his mother’s funeral, he wasn’t able to squeeze a single tear out, although whether that was a testament to the fact that he was a terrible son, he couldn’t say. She was barely a mother to him, whatever that meant.

In a way, Evelyn was the only family he had left. His father had disappeared when he was born, leaving him to be raised by his grandmother, who had long returned to the earth. As his former fiance, Evelyn was technically “almost-family.” Had their wedding happened, it would have been official, but it didn’t need to be.

They were soulmates, born knowing the shape of each other’s minds and the pulse of each other’s hearts. She knew him better than he knew himself and loved him more than he would ever allow himself to be loved.

And still, he had hurt her, the one good thing in his life.

His punishment was to live every day of his immortal life with this knowledge. Rather than suffer selflessly, he was doing everything in his power to change fate. He wanted to rewrite the world into a place where he never damaged her, where they were mortal and still in love. For that, he needed power, magic beyond his wildest dreams.

The first step he took toward this was to steal the soul of a God. He hadn’t been particularly picky about which God. Once, there was an entire pantheon of them who ruled over the Mortal Realm. But thanks to the arrival of the Elysians, a group of persistent mortals with special abilities from another dimension, their numbers dwindled to the main two: Anhel and Odi. He didn’t know how they came here or why they were hellbent on eliminating the Gods. What he did know was that the Elysians made his mission easier.

So he broke into the home of the Gods, hitching a ride to Otherworld by sneaking into the compartment of a wayward carriage headed for the Celestial Road. And when he arrived in Otherworld, he waded through the rubble, looking for lesser Gods hiding from the violence of the war. He figured that they made easier prey as they were less powerful and unlikely to be missed.

Instead, he found one of the most powerful Gods in the realm huddled beneath the remains of his castle, trembling from the loss of everything he built.

Gods were supposed to be giant. He would occasionally see them looming in the mountains when he was in the Mortal Realm, rearranging clouds and adjusting the twin suns in the sky. But this one was his height and more human-like than he anticipated. If it weren’t for his eyes, Haydn would’ve never known that he had found Odi, the Original Traitor. They were less like eyes and more like two black holes jammed into his face. Looking into them, Haydn heard the suffering of a thousand spirits, begging to be released.

He could’ve pitied Odi and made some attempt to save him from the Elysians. This was his creator, one of the two fathers of mankind. He could’ve pleaded with Odi to bring him Evelyn in exchange for shelter.

But Haydn wasn’t a hero and he certainly wasn’t made for begging. He took the knife that he had brought with him and held down what was left of Odi, carving out the old God’s heart. Then, in an act of madness, he swapped their hearts, leaving Odi’s corpse beneath the rubble.

He had killed the unkillable and in doing so, crushed the notion of eternity with his bare hands. All for the chance of being reunited with her.

But it was a pyrrhic victory. For all the power he had, he still couldn’t find her. He scoured her homeland and haunted her favorite places to visit, becoming a fixture in bookstores, taverns, and gardens. Some days he would have hope, catching a glimpse of a woman who looked like her. He told himself if he just waited that she would reappear, that missing piece of him would click into place.

Alas, she never came. Soon he was visiting gravesites, looking for headstones with some variation of her name etched into the rock. Maybe she got married to someone else and moved to the other side of the world.

After a few decades, he became certain that she was dead and longed to join her in the afterlife. He itched to get rid of the curse of immortality, to finally find peace. That was until he had found Matthius, Keeper of the Dead and Servant of the Night.

A few fistfights and a dagger held to the throat led the white-haired man to reveal to him that Evelyn was not dead. In fact, she was very much alive and he offered to let him meet his mistress to help find her.

And thus Haydn arrived at the second part of his journey: striking a bargain with Nyx.

He felt his fingers curl into a fist. He should have known that she wouldn’t make it easy for him. He was a fool to deliver what she wanted, exactly as she wanted while she made him search for a needle in a haystack.

But maybe all was not lost. Nyx wanted Daeva in Otherworld for a reason. Haydn didn’t believe that she had him bring her here to solely lessen the death toll in the mortal war. The way he saw it, there was definitely an ulterior motive. What she had in mind, he couldn’t say.

For now, he had reason to stay in her good graces. She controlled Matthius and the Elysians, neither of whom were too happy with his presence in Otherworld, with Matthius believing that he was too violent and predictable and the Elysians wishing to put his soul in Limbo. Despite all the odds stacked against him, Haydn still had one advantage.

If he could get closer to Daeva, he may be able to control her and use her as a bargaining chip against Nyx. He didn’t want to resort to underhanded tactics, but he would make peace with it if he couldn’t find Evelyn. After all, Daeva was just as violent and unpredictable as he was.

A bell tolls in the distance. Matthius materializes by his side, emerging from the shadows.

“I require your presence in the dining room,” he said stiffly. The white-haired man didn’t want to speak with him more than he had to.

“Why?”

He sighed, his gold metal armor clinking. “Daeva finished the task assigned by the Board. We need you there to maintain the ruse of competition.”

Already? Nyx’s missions were never easy. “If you insist. It warms my heart to know that you need me.”

Matthius made a noise of disgust. Without another word, he led Haydn to the dining hall, making sure to keep several paces ahead of him.

He smiled, delighted to have caused him discomfort. Matthius had no reason to be afraid of him. His godly strength was kept at bay by the Binding Chains, all thanks to the Elysians. He would need to ask Nyx to remove them, but in the meantime, he was as harmless as a mortal.

Haydn smelled the dining hall before he saw it. The aroma of spices and cooked meat made his mouth water and he detected a hint of sweetness in the air that he attributed to the bottles of wine that met his eyes. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, the light bouncing off the glasses and silverware.

In a past life, he was accustomed to the opulence that the Elysians had. Servants had waited on his every whim no matter how ridiculous his requests were. Expensive paintings and luxurious drapes adorned his walls. But after Evelyn disappeared, it had all become meaningless.

He should have never hurt her. The memory of what he did came to mind. Suddenly he didn’t feel so hungry anymore.

Daeva entered the dining hall with her angel trailing behind. Her curly red hair was pulled back in two neat braids, coiling on her shoulders like two sleeping snakes. She wore a long-sleeve white dress that stood out against her warm skin and brought out the small pale patches that trailed up her neck. Her red eyes flickered toward him, showing the barest hint of recognition.

He stared back openly, drinking in her appearance. She was easily the most unique-looking individual in the room, different enough to stand out, but beautiful enough not to inspire disgust.

A secret part of him envied that. He was an illusionist, creating visions and glamorous easily as mortals breathed. He remembered his first attempt at altering his appearance, the clumsy magic reducing him to a mannequin. If he could create beauty like Daeva’s, he would have it all.

From the corner of his eyes, he registered Ezra noticing her, the slight bob of the Elysian’s Adam’s apple as he gulped. When Daeva looked his way, he quickly schooled his features into stone-cold anger.

Interesting, Haydn thought. But whatever was there between Ezra and Daeva, it certainly wasn’t his business if one of them had a one-sided crush.

No, what he did want to know more about was her angel. Uriel was the perfect servant as all angels were meant to be. He was a literal golden boy, with bronze skin, gold wings, and shiny metal body parts. But something was off about him.

Angels weren’t supposed to have free will. It was a part of their souls that was deliberately left out of their design to make them obedient. When Haydn witnessed him beat the crap out of Ezra, he had seen someone with autonomy, someone with their own motives and feelings.

Of course, Daeva was none the wiser to this. She still kept him close, whispering secrets into his ears at the table. He observed her body language, the subtle ways she leaned into him and the soft look that came to her eyes when she thought no one was looking. No wonder she couldn’t see it. She was in love or the closest thing to it that the universe allowed the Gods.

Jealousy splashed over Ezra’s face, red and uninvited. Haydn suppressed a smirk. So the cold man did have feelings after all.

Matthius cleared his throat, interrupting Haydn’s thoughts. His eyes were dark, a sign that Nyx had already possessed him. The table grew quiet, waiting for his next words.

“Greetings,” Nyx said, her light feminine voice traveling from Matthius’s vocal cords. “I’m so glad that you could all gather here with me. Well, most of you. One of you is missing. Where’s Julia?”

“She’s indisposed,” Ezra said, speaking for the Elysians. “Claims that she’s sick.”

“It’s not like her to miss dinner,” Nyx mused. Across from him, Daeva stiffened ever so slightly, a micro-movement only he could have noticed after years of concealing himself.

“That’s unfortunate,” she said, twisting Matthius’s lips into an exaggerated pout. “I hope she gets better soon.”

The Elysians nodded in nervous agreement. Haydn’s eyes narrowed. He was missing a piece of the story.

But Nyx doesn’t dwell on the matter. “Come forward.” She points to Haydn and Daeva, summoning the Board to the table. Greed fills the eyes of the Elysians as she sets it down on the mahogany.

“Place your hands on the Board,” she instructed. “It will measure your character and give you your second assignment.” She gives Haydn a pointed look. Play along, her eyes seemed to say.

If you insist, he thought. There was only one reason why he complied. While Daeva received little missions, he received clues to Evelyn’s whereabouts. But the first paper had been a bluff. It told him something he already knew.

He felt the Board warm up to his touch, calmed by how the game piece seemed to be alive. It gave him hope that he might receive a substantial clue this time. Excitement flooded his chest as he felt the piece of paper beneath his hands.

He quickly turns it over, holding the words close to his face.

Follow Ezra and you will know what happened to Evelyn.

His eyes immediately snapped to the blue-eyed Elysian, who was calmly cutting up his steak. He looked over at Nyx, who gave him a subtle nod.

Oh great, he thought.