Twilight of the Gods

Knowing her killer’s identity didn’t give Daeva the ease she thought it would. In a cruel twist of fate, her murderer had been her soulmate all along, something she still couldn’t wrap her mind around.

You knew it was him, didn’t you? You knew and you still kept this from me, she thought, echoing her mental voice loud enough for Anhel to hear.

I did it for your own good. He caused you so much pain. You needed my protection, the God insisted.

She wondered if there were other things he omitted for her “protection.” Her chest throbs with fresh betrayal, aching with doubt. It was one thing to find out that the man she almost considered a friend was her soulmate and her killer. It was another not to be able to trust the voice in her head.

He won’t hurt you again, Anhel promised.

But you might, she thought.

I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bear to see you like that again. You were so bloody and mangled.

A lone dark tear rolls down her cheek. Any resentment she had over Anhel’s silence dissipated. She hadn’t expected him to cry for her.

I’m fused to your soul, he reminded her. Your pain is my pain whether I like it or not.

Even so, she hadn’t thought him capable of crying. He must have already gone through infinite sorrows as someone who has existed in the universe since the beginning of time. If she were him, she’d have no tears left to cry.

That’s not how emotions work. If you had only seen what he did to you, then you’d understand.

Another dark tear rolls down her face. She feels Haydn’s dagger stab her chest, leaving her skin slick with blood and pain. The scar beneath her collarbone transforms into a fresh wound as Anhel turns back time. Bruises litter her torso as she feels hundreds of imaginary blows hit her body all at once. The pain tears her in half, peeling skin from flesh and flesh from bone. Just when she thinks she can no longer bear it, the agony abates. Relief washes over her like a tidal wave.

As the traumatic episode ebbed away, her pounding heart slowed from a heavy thumping to a delicate pulsing. The flashback was the most realistic it had been in the several times she had been forced to relive it. The fear she felt this time was sharp, a penetrating cold that somehow outweighed the heat of the hatred she had for Haydn.

It occurred to her then that the revenge she had sought for the majority of her second life was closer than it had ever been. Here she was, stuck in Otherworld, with the two people who had caused her the most suffering. They were at her mercy as much as she was at theirs. If she was smart about it, she could kill two birds with one stone. She was more than capable of striking with enough force. The issue was the precision, catching her prey off guard.

She would go after Ezra first as the Board commanded. If Uriel had done as she asked, he would have found the puppet that the gold script dictated she destroy.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck finding the toy.

“He doesn’t keep anything like that,” her angel said.

She inspected his gold eyes, searching for any sign that he was lying. She had every reason to doubt his loyalty the moment he told her that Ezra was responsible for reviving the angels.

“Does he have any secret compartments?” She suspected that the puppet was a valuable possession of his.

“None that I know of.” He stares back at her innocently.

“Secret rooms?” She probed further, trying not to miss any details.

“He has an attic where he’s bringing angel corpses to life. No other secret rooms,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed into red slits. Uriel’s method of lying was by omission. He was honest about everything he said as long as she inquired about it.

“Did you conduct a thorough search of his room and his attic?”

“No,” he said, his face falling. “I have limited access to both spaces. I did the best I could, but I wouldn’t say it was thorough.”

“I see,” she said. Concealing her disappointment, she gave Uriel another command.

“Keep Ezra occupied for a few hours,” she told him, summoning Anhel’s voice. Uriel’s eyes glowed, acknowledging her compulsion over him.

“As you wish.”

Daeva must have imagined it, but his eyes had turned blue for a moment. Ezra blue. But before she could question him about it, Uriel left the room.

He’s playing a dangerous game, Anhel said. He’s putting his trust in the wrong person. Ezra will destroy him once he loses his use.

Can we still save him? She truly didn’t want to lose her only friend.

Of course. But only if he wants to be saved.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Anhel meant by that statement. However, she understood the perils of trusting Ezra. After all, she and Anhel had made that fatal mistake years ago and still paid the price to this day.

She didn’t remember everything the Elysian did to them. It was one of those things she was grateful Anhel hid from her. Yet now that she knew of her true identity as Evelyn, the extent of Ezra’s damage was far worse than she could ever have imagined.

It was my fault, Anhel said. I told you that we could trust him. I thought it was safe to get into that carriage.

She didn’t blame him. Ezra had been the perfect charming angel when they met him, his blue eyes more kind than cold. After a long bloody war and being slain by her soulmate, he was the first friendly face she saw in her second life. She would’ve fallen into his arms without anyone pushing her.

Little did she know he would alter her mind, body, and soul beyond recognition.

Destroying him wouldn’t be enough to repay him for his crimes. In fact, she was willing to bet that he almost expected it, betting on her to behave like the monster he molded her into. But how could she not?

As she rummaged through his room, it irked her how neat he kept his things. He was a meticulous man who was clean and organized, both in how he kept his clothes and ruined others. She looked for hidden compartments and clever spell configurations, whispering phrases that might make an invisible door appear. She even looked through the pages of his books, skimming for schematics of his room. Instead, she found something intriguing.

There was a book of names, lying innocuously on the oak table.

As she approached the tome, a menacing aura took over the book’s cover. She was suddenly afraid to open it and see what its content would reveal.

We’re inside that book, Anhel said. I wouldn’t blame you if you opened it. But let’s cast a protection over ourselves. Who knows what tricks Ezra has up his sleeves if we disturb his property?

Warm, black ichor flowed from her fingertips to her wrists, covering her hands in godly power. She pries open the cover, her eyes instantly greeted with hundreds of names on the book’s pages. They were all women stolen by Ezra to become his worshippers and servants, with the occasional desperate man in their legion. Small symbols were inscribed next to each name to denote the ritual Ezra performed with their souls. All of them had a line with two arrows, the mark of exchange. Every person, whether mage, mortal, God, angel, or demon was giving something up when they became Ezra’s people. And for each person, Ezra kept his word and gave something back, although Daeva suspected he fulfilled their requests in a way that cost them something, much like the wicked djinns of the past.

So when her eyes finally found her own name, she was unsurprised to see the mark of exchange next to it.

Servitude in exchange for a home, Anhel said. That was the deal that we made with him. I didn’t realize it would be absolute subjugation or that we’d be the guinea pig for his experiments.

It was then that Daeva noticed that her name had the most symbols inscribed near it. Memory mixing, pain tolerance, reverse transfiguration, and magical binding were just a few of the trials he had her endure in the name of “science.” But she noted with some satisfaction that he had been unsuccessful in cloning her despite numerous attempts.

“Physical form collapses after one year,” she said, reading the inscription aloud. She smiles wickedly. Sabine’s dissection and sterilization of her body did not bear fruit. They couldn’t replicate the pseudo-Godhood that her bond with Anhel created.

She flips to the page on memory mixing, eyes widening as she reads over the details. She wasn’t sure how to feel about what she read, alternating between horror, disgust, and pity.

Once upon a time, Daeva had been a woman named Evelyn. She was Anhel’s Chosen One and Haydn’s soulmate, making her a powerful mage and a passionate lover. But since Ezra’s memory mixing experiment, she was also two other women, or at least the bits of them that remained in the present.

She was Dahlia, a royal courtesan that caught Ezra’s eyes when he posed as a mysterious wealthy man. Crafty and beautiful, she seduced many and schemed her way close to the throne. She could have become Queen of Myrania if she hadn’t made a bargain with Ezra. But who could resist the charm of a fallen angel?

She was also Ava, a poor prostitute who longed for life outside the brothel. She wanted to trade a life of bodies for books. Ezra knew exactly what to tell her to make him fall for his tricks. So despite the little voice in the back of her head screaming for her not to go, Ava joined the Elysian for life in Otherworld.

Together, Dahlia, Evelyn, and Ava collectively made up Daeva’s identity. Maybe Ezra had fused their memories together to make her easier to manipulate. Maybe he wanted to completely rob her identity by tainting her past. But knowing that there were others beside her who were hurt by Ezra made the whole ordeal of confronting him more painful. He was a monster to the core, eons beyond redemption.

Lucky for him, so was she.

“Looking for something?” His cold voice rang throughout the room, causing her to jump out of her skin.

She turned around, finding Ezra standing a mere foot away. She shrinks into herself, disgusted by his proximity. Uriel lingers not far behind like a dog with his new master.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been in my room,” he said. “Do you remember what we were doing the last time you were here?”

She ignores his taunt, looking past him to Uriel. The angel’s gold eyes glimmered with a blue sheen, giving him a glazed look.

“You’re controlling him,” she stated plainly, finally acknowledging Ezra’s presence in the room. “You could’ve attacked me directly. That was never a problem in the past. You didn’t have to hurt him, too.”

“I’ve done nothing but treat him with kindness,” he said calmly. “Isn’t that right, Uriel?”

“Every decision has been my own,” the angel affirmed. “I’m using the free will we’ve practiced together.”

She had trouble believing Uriel would choose against her, but with Ezra anything was possible. She takes a closer step toward her formerly loyal angel, examining his face. Ezra’s mind control had a special signature, one that made his victims look a certain way. It was something she noticed from years of being the Elysian’s servant, details that a stranger would easily miss. Signs of mind control included a straight back, a stiff body, and a frozen smile on the face. Ezra liked his servants to be neat and organized, just like he kept his things because he saw them as objects.

Uriel’s body was completely relaxed. He was even slouched over as he bent to speak to her.

You betrayed me, she realized. You actually chose Ezra over me.

“Why?” His eyes were getting bluer by the second.

“What?” Was she imagining it or was his skin starting to lose its golden glow?

“Why did you choose Ezra’s side?” She was struggling to contain the anger in her voice.

“I’m still on your side. I’ve just made a choice against Anhel. I love you, Daeva, not the man who controls you.” He grabs her hand, pleading with her.

She pulls away, outraged. She glared at him, mustering up as much fury as she could behind her red eyes. No one who “loved” her chose Ezra under any circumstances. Uriel stepped away, discomfort showing on his face. Gold feathers rained from his wings, covering the floor in a shimmering blanket.

“You used to hate him as I did. He was the one that wished for the death of all the angels. You even tried to fight him for that. What changed?”

By then, all the feathers had fallen off Uriel’s wings. His skin took on a dull rusty shade and sharp teeth grew at the side of his mouth. The only thing that remained angelic about him were his gold eyes, which were still glimmering that eerie shade of blue.

“Ezra didn’t wish for a terrible thing,” he said. “He wanted the angels to think for themselves. But the Gods, like the one that lives inside you as a parasite, never wanted that. They only ever wanted to keep us as their perfect little servants, so much so that free will made us combust. You’ve always been innocent of this crime. Renounce Anhel and join us. Join the resurrection of the angels.”

With that, his eyes transformed into a sky-blue shade, just as cold as those of her former captor. His leathery wings unfolded behind him, sharp and deadly. Chills ran down her back. The angel she knew so well was no more.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend, Uriel?” She whispers this, suddenly filled with fear instead of anger.

He’s a demon, an Infernal creature from Underworld. All angels were like this before we corrected them. Ezra has somehow entirely reversed his domestication, a process that was supposed to be permanent, Anhel informed her.

Is he still my friend? She gazes into his eyes, looking for some sign of warmth.

“I’m still yours,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

“Then get Ezra to break my chain,” she replied, eyes sliding over to the Elysian. “Free me and I will renounce my God and all of the powers associated with our bond.”

Ezra chuckled, placing a hand on Uriel’s shoulder. “You’ve always been a power-hungry monster, Daeva. Why can’t you just take Uriel for his word? How much more does he have to give?”

“Let him speak for himself. All of his choices are his own, right?” Truthfully, a part of her still believed that Ezra was controlling Uriel despite her eyes telling her otherwise. But the slight crack in Ezra’s composure at her statement showed that he wasn’t making the rules.

“Free her,” Uriel said, confirming his allegiance. “Break the chain and she will surrender Anhel. You will have more power than you ever imagined.”

She sighed in relief. Ezra remained silent.

“Don’t you trust her? Daeva has always kept her word to me,” he said.

“I do,” the Elysian said carefully, putting as much sincerity as he could behind his words. “But Nyx has told her to ruin something of mine. What was your task again? Destroy Ezra’s puppet?”

Was there something Uriel didn’t tell Ezra? He’s too innocent for his own good, she thought.

“I’ll forfeit the game,” she said, bluffing. “My freedom has always mattered more than owning a deadly weapon of mass destruction.”

His cold blue eyes meet her fiery red ones in a challenge. They were both playing a dangerous hand.

We need to leave, Anhel said. When did we ever win against Ezra without running away?

“I believe you,” Ezra said. “Uriel, hold her down. Taking my link out of her is going to hurt. Extracting Anhel will be even more excruciatingly painful.”

He obeys, holding Daeva’s arms behind her back in an iron grip. She tries not to panic as Ezra draws closer, placing his hand on her neck. She was getting an intense sense of deja vu as he caressed her skin, fighting the urge to vomit as he continued to touch her.

Finally, he sinks his hand into her neck, closing his fist around his link. Here it was, the impossible: Ezra giving up a form of ownership. He shatters the metal, yanking it out of her in one single, fluid motion.

Blood dribbles from her mouth, pooling on the ground in one big inky puddle. The same poisonous sensation spreads through her chest, slightly less painful than when Tristan removed the other metal links.

“This is just the beginning,” Ezra said, placing the bloody link on the table. “Our alliance will cost you.”

I know, she thought, testing Uriel’s grip on her arms.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, her voice low enough only for the angel to hear.

“Sorry,” he whispered back, loosening his fingers.

“To remove Anhel from your body, I will need to take your soul first,” Ezra said. He traces the scar beneath her collarbone.

We’ve overstayed our welcome, Anhel said. It’s time to leave.

Just trust me. I know what I’m doing. I may not be able to outwit him, but I still aim to use the element of surprise. He’s overconfident which means he’s full of blind spots. I’m counting on his ego to be his downfall.

His hands move to her chest, aiming for her heart. Before his fingers could graze her skin, she breaks free from Uriel’s hold, jumping away from the two of them.

“We had a deal,” Ezra said, feigning surprise over her actions. “I thought Uriel said you keep your word.”

“I do,” she replied, pulling out her trusty pistol, Miekka. The inscriptions glow faintly on her weapon. It had been a while since she used the firearm and it was hungry for blood.

“Mortal weapons won’t harm anyone in this room,” said Ezra. “I would advise you to stop playing around and put the gun down.”

She fires a shot at him, putting a bullet through his pristine head. Gold, shimmering blood dripped down his face.

I’ve been waiting forever to do that, she thought. Because while she was someone who kept her word, the promise she made to herself to destroy Ezra mattered more.

The Elysian laughed maniacally, pointing to Miekka. “That didn’t even hurt! I have a bullet in my brain and it’s done nothing! Look at the master you serve, Uriel. Look at how incompetent—”

He freezes mid-sentence, his face contorting in pain.

Miekka was no ordinary mortal weapon. Her bullets consumed the victim’s flesh, sending them to a bottomless hole only the dead knew where. With the bullet lodged in his head, Ezra was experiencing, for the first time in his long life, the sensation of being consumed from the inside.

And he hated it.

Daeva knew that Miekka’s damage to Ezra would be temporary. He probably engineered a way for his body to regenerate based on the experiments he conducted on her. But if she fired enough bullets, she could make coming back a very painful process for him.

So she did, firing endlessly at his head. She aimed there specifically because of how much he prized his own intellect. She pulls the trigger, again and again, becoming one with her weapon and feeding its endless appetite.

Uriel grabbed her arm, stopping her. “You’ve been firing for half an hour. That’s enough.”

She falls to her knees, staring at the bloody hole that replaced Ezra’s head. She knew deep down that no matter how much she hurt him, it would never be enough. Her lust for revenge would take over and there would be more blood to pay.

For some reason, that made her feel exhausted. A lifetime of killing was no different than being in Ezra’s servitude.

Not to mention there was still the matter of finding the puppet and destroying it. She was tired of playing other people’s games. At least with her chain broken, she could walk free.

Well, as free as a person could be forever hunted by the Elysians and the target of Nyx’s rage.

Finish the game. With the Board, we could properly fight back this time.

Anhel was right. But where was Ezra’s puppet?

Haydn walks into the room, calmly assessing the damage to the place. He glances at Ezra’s mangled body and Uriel’s weary expression, nodding as he did so.

“You’ve handled things well,” he said.

She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “I try my best. What are you doing here?”

“I owe you a favor.” He pulls out a small cloth doll that looks like a miniature replica of Ezra. With its blue button eyes and light brown yarn hair, the doll seemed more like a person than the corpse on the floor.

“This is the puppet,” she said incredulously. “How did you know? I mean, how did you even find it?”

“It was locked in a box in the dining room. Ezra was trying to hide it in the place you’d least expected. It was very important to him. I believe it gave him direct access to the Mortal Realm.”

He pulls out a lighter, offering it to her. “Would you like to do the honors?”

She accepts, watching the fire spread quickly through the cloth puppet. On the ground, Ezra’s body twitched in response, losing a part of itself in the burning doll.

“Thank you,” she said. She glanced at his dark eyes, torn between how she should feel about him. He was her murderer and soulmate. It didn’t get more confusing than that.

“Anytime,” he said. “I thought it was only fair. But next time you plan on hurting Ezra, send an invitation. That bastard stole you away from me. He deserves a few lessons on pain from an expert.”

A faint flush touched her cheeks. Was she attracted to this? Nonsense!

He was her killer. It was his face that she saw in the last moments of her first life. But she would deal with that later.

For now, she finally completed the last round of Nyx’s twisted game. Surely her troubles would end here.

Right?