Twilight of the Gods

Make Julia suffer. Those were the three simple words that made up the task that the Board assigned Daeva.

Under ordinary circumstances, Daeva would have enjoyed the task. Julia was the first Elysian to torture her and she had made her suffer uniquely. She was all too happy to be the force of karma that returned the favor, but there were certain challenges that stood in her way.

She couldn’t kill Julia. Unless Nyx secretly wanted her to, she was fairly certain that the Elysians were still valuable to her. How was she supposed to make her suffer if she needed to keep Julia alive?

She contemplated her difficult task, sitting on the cushions in her room. Matthius had arranged for the Gods to be placed in suitable living arrangements. Given the animosity between them and the Elysians, Nyx didn’t trust that the Elysians would treat them kindly. And given Daeva’s current mission, they had no reason to.

Her stomach still tingled from the purple sweets, fluttering from the magic. She was excited to finally get her memories back and see why she had chosen to be Anhel’s vessel. Finally, she was going to see the reason behind her suffering. Finally, she would know why she wanted to live.

Haydn stirred next to her, shifting in the cushions. He was fast asleep, the sounds of his steady breathing filling up the room. The paper with his task was nowhere to be found, no doubt safely tucked away in a pocket somewhere. She briefly thought about searching him for it, but she feared that she would wake him up in doing so.

For the moment, she occupied herself with gazing at his sleeping face, marveling at the peace that settled over his features. His request to Nyx had surprised her. She half expected him to press for the death of the Elysians considering how adamant he had been about it from the moment he met her.

Instead, he had asked for his first love. A woman named Evelyn, if Daeva remembered correctly. It reminded her that she still knew very little about him despite agreeing to return to Otherworld with him. But she understood his wish. At least she thought she did in the way she would catch herself occasionally longing for her imaginary soulmate.

Her eyes scanned the room for Uriel, who was standing outside on the balcony of their room. He didn’t speak a word to her after Nyx had given them their tasks. She was afraid that he might be angry with her although she couldn’t imagine a reason why. All she knew was the heat of his silent fury.

She was tempted to stand next to him on the balcony, to gaze at the stars that formed the many paths of the Celestial Road and babble to him about how strange everything was in Otherworld. She wanted to talk about Nyx, how she never expected anyone to have influence over the Elysians. She wanted to inspect his bloody knuckles, to see if there were any bruises from his altercation with Ezra. Most of all, she wanted to see if he was alright, being in the home of the monsters who had brought about the death of his people.

She knew she wasn’t well. She couldn’t sleep and the memories from the last time she was in Otherworld were slowly creeping back into her consciousness. She had called it “torture” when explaning why she wanted to kill the Elysians, but truthfully “torture” was an understatement. At least torture had a purpose. No, what they had put her through could only be accurately described as a complete violation of her soul. She had been used and abused to the point of no return.

She glanced at Uriel again, seeing his golden wings fully open and reflecting the lamps in the room. She could make him talk to her, force her to bear audience to her feelings. If she willed it, he would do anything she commanded. That was the nature of their relationship, master and servant, God and angel. They weren’t friends no matter what sort of kinship she felt toward him. It didn’t matter that he was beautiful and kind. They were bound by blood and he had no free will. It was senseless to assume that they were equals, to continue her fantasy of slowly, but surely being in love with him.

He was not a person. But no matter how many times she tried to meld her feelings with fact, she couldn’t harden that part of her that felt soft for him.

You need to use him, Anhel admonished her. Treat him like an object and your feelings will follow.

She frowned at his sudden mental intrusion. I can’t do that.

You can. You don’t want to, but you are fully capable of cruelty. Giving him orders to fulfill your every whim is not the same as stabbing or shooting him with that pistol you’re so fond of. You will be doing him a great kindness by treating him for what he was made for.

A great kindness. She echoed this phrase, sarcasm lacing her thoughts.

She stared at his gold wings again, longing to be with him. She wanted his company to escape from Anhel’s voice in her head and the confusion of Godhood. She grabbed a fur coat from the dresser in the room and wrapped it around herself before stepping out to the balcony. He turned toward her, the only acknowledgement he gave of her presence.

“I don’t know how you can stand the cold,” she said, attempting to start a conversation. She buried her face in the furs, marveling at how soft they were.

“Angels are made of fire,” he said stiffly. His words came out in small white puffs of air that evaporated into the night.

She blinked in surprise. “And your people-”

“Burned to death,” he said bitterly. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

She remained silent, unsure of how to respond. She racked her brain for something positive to say. “There has to be a way to bring them back.”

He gave her a sardonic smile, despair lining his face. “Is there? I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry that Nyx couldn’t grant my initial request,” she blurted. “Maybe if she did, there would be a way.” She tried to sound hopeful, to give him a way out of his thoughts.

He kept his eyes straight ahead, his mouth closed. A single tear slipped from his eye and then several more came after, raining down his face and dripping onto the balcony railing. The part of her heart that was soft for him ripped open. She gasped, stunned by the despair that flooded her soul. She felt his sorrow as if it were her own.

She frantically searched her coat for a handkerchief, relaxing ever-so-slightly when her fingers found the tip of the cloth. She grabbed his face, turning his head toward her. When his eyes met hers, she wanted to weep with him. They were sorrowful, drowning in anguish she could barely comprehend.

She stretched up to him, craning her neck to make sure she wiped every drop of misery off his face. Please don’t cry, she thought. It’s not fair that you get to still be pretty when you’re sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “If only bringing your people back was the thing I want most, maybe she would have listened to me.”

He softened, placing his hand over hers. “It’s not your fault. Ezra wished for them to die. And I would be in the ground with them if it weren’t for your blood.” He turned her wrist over and kissed the pale island on the otherwise dark sea of her skin. “I exist only to serve you.”

She felt herself shatter at his words. This isn’t right. You’re more than a servant to me. But she couldn’t speak those words.

“Be honest with me,” she said. “How did you feel when I made the request to bring back the angels?”

He paused, processing her question. At last, he said “I felt that you weren’t selfish enough with your wish.” Sending her confusion, he backtracked. “I don’t deny that the wish came from your heart. You’ve been a kind master to me. But I knew it wasn’t what you wanted the most.”

For some reason, being referred to as “master” stung her. But his explanation made sense. She didn’t want the angels back so much as she wanted Uriel to be freed from his misery. If she were truly honest with herself, what she really wanted was Uriel. More than the parts she already had ownership over.

She supposed that made her greedy.

She looked down at the metal arm that was gently grasping her wrist and listened to the steady ticking of his mechanical heart. His gold eyes gazed at her patiently, waiting for her next words. He was so fragile and beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

“Go to sleep,” she commanded. “Rest and be free of your sorrow.”

He bowed his head to her and left her on the balcony with only the cold night as her company. She stayed there, wrapped in the furs until the twin suns rose to the sky and she could no longer escape what she was summoned to Otherworld to do.

By then, her mind had cleared and she knew exactly how to seek out Julia and do what the Board had sent her to do. She found the fair-haired Elysian at breakfast in her own dining room with servants buzzing to and fro, placing multiple platters of food on the table. Her servants had been worshippers in the Mortal Realm, her most devoted followers across Myrania and Ylivia. Their reward for their loyalty was ascension into Otherworld where they could serve their Elysian more directly. It was considered the highest honor as a devotee.

Daeva thought it was a ruthless scam. But Julia was the “Bountiful One,” the Elysian who would ensure that one’s family never starved. Perhaps that privilege was worth the sacrifice of the mortal soul. Mortals only had their time. Who was she to judge how they spent it?

As she approached Julia, Daeva marveled at her healthy appearance. Her skin was glowing and her honey curls shone with a brightness that rivaled the twin suns. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought the Elysian was kind as she was radiant, gifted with ample curves and a sweet smile.

But unfortunately, she did know better. As she felt Julia’s cold eye bore into her, she relived the torture she endured under the woman’s hands. She wasn’t as full figured back then. Like the rest of the Elysians at the time, she was on the brink of starvation, bones jutting out from her skin. She was withered and hag-like, perpetually hunched and teeth gnashing at the air. But despite her posture, she had always been looming over Daeva. It wasn’t because Julia was particularly tall, but due to the fact that Daeva was kept chained to a table, prostrated against her will for the rest of the Elysians to do whatever they wished with her.

“May I join you for breakfast?” While Daeva had asked the request as a question, she knew that Julia could not say no as the generous Bountiful One, especially with her servants around.

“Certainly,” the Elysian responded. To the outsider, her voice was welcoming. But a more careful person would’ve noted the hint of irritation that Julia was unable to keep out of her voice. It was a warning for Daeva not to push the limits of her hospitality.

“Thank you,” she replied, taking a seat across from her. “I won’t be long.”

Julia relaxed slightly, leaning back into her seat. “Nonsense. You can stay as long as you need. There’s plenty of food to go around.”

Daeva wondered how much energy she had to muster to say that. Specks of hate flickered in her eyes, filling her irises with malice one second and innocent generosity the next. Or perhaps it was a trick of the light.

Steaming plates of sausages, eggs, and bacon arrived at the table joining the platters of fruit and toast. Julia eyed the spread with glee, taking in all the food. If there had to be one thing Daeva remembered about her, it would be her appetite.

It was something she was too intimately familiar with.

As Julia dug into the food, Daeva noticed that she still ate in the same way she remembered - mouth open and chewing with the eagerness of a jackal. The utensils were a formality. She suspected that when alone, Julia ate with her hands in the style of reckless abandon that she preferred.

Correction, she knew Julia ate with her hands when she was alone with her food. Because at some point during her awful past in Otherworld, she was the food.

Her stomach turned as she watched Julia bite into the sausages and eggs, oil staining her lips. Her vision flickered and she saw her flesh replace the food on the table, blood soaking the china plates. The sight made her sides ache. Julia was fond of her ribs.

“Won’t you have some?” She smiled at her, lips smothered in her blood.

Daeva blinked and the food returned to the table. “Just some tea will be fine.”

“Suit yourself.” She continued eating, teeth gnashing against the meat. Daeva turned away, unable to bear the sight of her eating.

A servant arrived at her side, pouring a steaming pot of green tea into her mug. She wrapped her fingers around the warm ceramic, muttering a grateful thank you to Julia’s devotee.

The memories from the past play in her head like an endless song. She had no control over seeing Julia gnaw at her skin and meat, the cursed flesh that would only grow again and again. But even with the constant regeneration of her body, the Elysian was never sated. She carved Daeva up with her favorite knife even as her tendons stitched themselves back together.

She sipped the tea, the hot liquid scalding her tongue. Did Julia still eat human flesh even outside of those desperate times? Or was animal meat enough for her appetite?

One cannot unmake a monster just by giving it a better habitat. She would know, given her nature as a God.

“I have something urgent to speak with you about,” she said, after clamping down on the nausea from seeing the Elysian eat. “It’s about the Board.” Julia froze, midbite. She placed her utensils on the table and ordered the servants out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. She wiped the food matter from her lips and folded her hands, looking at Daeva expectantly.

“The Board tasked me with serving you,” she said, carefully watching the other party’s reactions. “I think it sees giving you power as a way to lessen the death toll of the upcoming war between the Myranians and the Ylivians.”

“Why not give it to the other Elysians?” Her question was more curious than suspicious.

“I was told that the Bountiful One would be best suited for saving everyone,” she said, suppressing a grimace over using her official title. She hoped that appealing to Julia’s ego would make her pliable.

“I completely agree,” the Elysian said, beaming. Daeva resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was as gullible as she was gluttonous.

“To surrender that power to you, I need to complete a ritual. It must be in a place that none of the Elysians go to. I assume none of you have revisited the Glade since my departure,” she said, building the charade as she spoke.

“The Glade is perfect.” Julia had bought her proposal hook, line, and sinker. Daeva needed only to reel her in to complete her task. But she still faced one more obstacle: her memories.

The Glade was the farthest back she could remember when she was resurrected by Anhel. In those brief, precious waking moments, Ezra sought her out and transported her to the Glade. She had assumed he had done so because he was generous. He went as far as saying so himself and how a poor woman like her needed a home and wasn’t his perfect? He promised food and warmth to shield her against all that was strange and dangerous.

And she had believed him. She didn’t blame herself for that, at least not entirely. He - no, they - were all so kind to her. But he was especially good, almost unnecessarily so in hindsight of everything they subjected her to.

For that, his cruelty stung more than the others.

She never thought she would return to the Glade, to the patch of dark blue grass and domed homes that were the last remnants of Elysia that the Elysians had. But she had imagined that if she were forced to go back there, she would burn the Glade down with the Elysians in it.

Maybe she will fulfill that dream today.

She led Julia into one of the domes, cringing as she entered the threshold. This was where she was made, the site of her hatred and where her mission of revenge was born. She spotted the telltale metal table at the center of the room, chains and shackles still attached to the corners.

The nausea from looking at the torture machine was overwhelming. She wobbled a little in her step, eyes sweeping the room. There, at the corner, was a cage with golden bars stained with her blood. If she was behaving well, they would put her in there. She would be allowed a small break from their feeding. While Julia ate the most out of all the Elysians, she was certainly not the only one who sampled her flesh. They had all been starving. A combination of war and fleeing their dying home had left them malnourished.

But there wasn’t a shred of sympathy in Daeva’s heart for her tormentors. Whatever they had suffered clearly didn’t convince them not to do the same to her.

“I’m sorry we haven’t cleaned up here,” Julia said. “We haven’t had to use this place since, well …” She trailed off, giving Daeva a sheepish look.

“It’s enough for the ritual,” she replied. Daeva tossed some of the grass she plucked from outside on the floor and directed Julia to stand in the middle. The Elysian obeyed, not knowing that she was standing near the entrance of the cage.

Satisfied with her ruse, Daeva shoved Julia into the cage without a second thought, slamming the metal door behind her. Before Julia could get a hold of her bearings, Daeva grabbed a key and locked the door shut.

The Elysian glared at her. “I’m guessing this isn’t part of the ritual.”

“Correct.” She stared at the Elysian, marveling at how surreal the situation was. Once upon a time, she was the one behind those bars suffering an unimaginable pain. How strange it was to be on the other side!

Julia made a series of pleas to persuade her to unlock the door. She called her “old friend,” “ally,” and all sorts of honeyed words in hopes of softening her. She tried that tactic for a few more minutes before giving into a collection of insults that were more fitting for her nature. Before Daeva’s eyes, the beautiful Elysian quickly transformed into the ugly hag that tortured Daeva all those years ago.

“You don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” Julia said. “You will face the consequences. The other Elysians will know something is up when I’m missing for dinner.”

“If I recall correctly,” Daeva said, stepping closer to the bars, “I was the one that fed you. Before you guys finished building Otherworld, it was my flesh and blood that nourished your bodies. This,” she continued, touching the bars of the cage, “is the consequence of your actions.”

The Elysian fell silent, her fair head bowed in shame.

“Don’t worry. I’m not cruel like you. I will let you out on one condition. Will you fulfill it?”

Julia looked at her hopefully. “I’ll do anything.”