Her eyes snapped open as her muscles locked into place. Her broken arm cracked open, the flesh underneath splitting apart.

  In that haze of pain, a sound reached her ears. Around ten paces ahead, Menoux sat on the ground, Igvaz laying to one side and a body lifted by the upper arm on the other. As his jaw distended, faded golden metal mask dislocating so he could bring his teeth to the decapitated corpse, she tried to look away to no avail. A repulsive crunch echoed as he tore through flesh, breastplates, and ribs with the same ease.

  "A certain guest once recited to me this Citrine Tale," he said after swallowing. "Secluded in the promised city under the mountains, the Prophet carved his conversations with the Lord in Iron in tablets of stone. First six, then seven, then six again as his children disagreed about the particulars of the canon. But the last will always be the last: 'Go and spread, oh Aenexias, for words are only words, and the beast rules mute!' That is your Tale."

  A fire stronger than the crackling flames behind poured through clogging veins, nerves dying and resuscitating with every pulse of her heart, elbow and knuckles melting to nothing as hardskin sloughed off like ooze.

  The horrible giant watched with his metallic grimace, taking a final slurp of viscera before casting away his scaled meal like some broken toy. "Before Balazia was Balazia, he jumped me with a question that at times still stumps me. We are the cult of the strong, of the victorious, of pleasure and honesty and craft, of the jungle in steel fangs, so why do we spread to the weak? Why are we, objectively, weak?"

  She lurched forward, falling face first to the ground. Her arm convulsed wildly, dividing itself with every lash.

  "Should we not be more selective, invite only the strong to our ranks? Instead, anyone willing and capable of following our demands joins the inner circles, we simply hone them into something more fitting. But how can we claim our virtues when the line we carve is as blurry as effort, resources, a dedicated guiding hand? That was the way of the Old Empire, nepotism that saw the strong apart from strength then bridged the gap. How do we set ourselves apart from their failure? Can we?"

  She remembered being held down, her hand torn asunder by the grin above, but even that pain couldn't compare. It was keener and richer than any she had ever felt, than what she knew she was capable of feeling, just the absolute dissolution of an essential part of herself magnified to delusion.

  "The romantic, dogmatic answer is that strength is not in body and soul alone. It's in the heart, the attitude, the willingness to rise above and grow the mane, to subject ones enemies to the merciless ways the Dashi have desperately tried to claw away from!" Menoux Chuckled. "But the grounded one is a little different."

  And finally, release. Every bit of flesh freed at once, followed by an internal lightness like no other. To her side, she felt the silken glide of a limb that should no longer exist.

  "For every one who craved the horrors of the Prophet, ten loathed him. For each of my compatriots who gave in to their Instincts and joined my mistress, five chose to die rather than harm another. I wished for the world of the scriptures, where the pick of the den crawls to our feet begin for enlightenment, I desperately did! but all I could do is twist the truth and pretend I'm following the divine will. It's humiliating."

  She felt like she had pulled herself inside out. Half of her Will was stuck inside her wound, rooted inextricably, only half the snakeball unwinding itself, Will arms lost, slow and struggling to fall back ingo control, until she felt a different serpentine shape slither across the air.

  "I was the one to expand our outer circles after my Mistress' death, back when they were more for the sake of intelligence and sabotage rather than recruitment, an informal sin to put lightly." he said. "I shrunk and shut ceremonies as necessary to our survival, and who could second guess me? I am as close to the Prophet as my dear faithful will ever be, all I need is to confidently speak in circles to reassure them it will all be alright."

  Like ghosts in the wind. Like ribbons of the most delicate fabric. Transparent wisps in sky blue, worms of swirling patterns, of ambiguous size and uncertain shape, barely teetered to this ugly realm she was forced to inhabit. Faintly familiar yet completely alien, something that should not be but was as undeniable as she herself.

  "Ah, but did I wish to live in that wonderful world of the scriptures! A world where might made right and was self evident. After all, it would always be on our side!" Menoux sighed. "But I am not Aenexias nor his kin, I never heard the whispers of the Lord, so I was guided by what my eyes could see, and what they saw was... that we were weak. That the Mission would only survive through submission. Was I wrong to?"

  "T-this is..." overwhelmed with feeling, she spoke. "T-this is incredible."

  Menoux scoffed. "But obedient pups always learn to rebel, don't they Godling?"

  She was at him in a blink.

  The Fortress made good on its impression, and the impact only dragged Menoux a pace or so. The four serpents born of her lost arm met the flat of Igvaz, pulled faster than she could react. From that brief contact, she saw the mindless little monster as if through Will: Single minded, vicious, desperately hungry. How beautiful!

  A kick caught her distracted, sending her flying up and bursting her intestines. It hurt, of course, but how could agony matter when she had such and amazing gift to explore?! Another blessing, another reason to see more!

  She called for the stars and they answered, revealing all within reach. In the flashes of steel she saw the tension of muscles, another incoming blow with Igvaz's side. Reaching the peak of her flight, she twisted in the air, serpents coiling around themselves.

  Blow met blow, and thought she came out the loser, crashing back first against a stout trunk, Menoux reeled, stumbling back. She had taken it in that brief clash, the predator's confusion at the excited prey, an acquaintanced uncertainty of being hurt by an easy meal, and for a split of a second, fear as it noticed her grasping, feeling, learning without being told.

  "This is awesome!" She dashed in, swerving to Menoux's flank. "I can see everything! Is this what I was meant to do?!"

  "Awesome indeed!" He turned with her, blocking the hit on his blade. "Behold the Animal, sing praises to its bottomless depths!"

  Igvaz slipped aside, letting a jab take her full on the temple. This wasn't that same cocky, teasing Menoux from before: the blow was filled with Will, numbing her to her toes as if it had tapped her raw in the brain. Euphoria kept her awake enough to dodge a lunge that would have bisected her chest.

  Will Serpents acted at the speed of thought, two slapping the blade aside while two grabbed for Menoux's wrist. Were it not for the right kick that forced her away, what would she have seen? What lied behind the castle's walls? She needed to know! So she pursued, not wasting a second in returning to the offensive.

  This Time, however, Menoux acted first, stabbing faster than most of her body could move, but not her new limbs. The four gathered, meeting Igvaz's tip and holding tight as their Wills met face to face. Stupid decision, in hindsight. A creature made to cut would cut, and the moment she saw herself about to come out the obvious loser of the clash, she jumped, letting momentum carry her away.

  She fell on feet and hand, Serpents all rearing back, ready for the smallest twitch.

  "Imbibe it! Indulge in it! Peak in it! Is it not delicious, to reach that core truth?!" He bellowed, hunching his shoulder.

  "I-It's, it's -!" Beyond all pleasures she had ever known. Had she ever felt breeze this crisp, the heat this comforting, the crackling of rotting leaves under her fingers such a pleasant hum? This was true sight, all things apart in their masks yet one below, and she was so, so close to reaching it, all she needed to do was, was-

  "Can words describe it?!" Menoux threw himself into an overhead slash.

  "N-no!" She dashed in, ducking the front kick that would have shattered her ribs, and four times did the Serpents pierce his left knee.

  Another man might have dropped. She felt the metal buckle, ripping meat as the giant's sole leg on the ground was pushed back into an almost reverse bend. She dug into Menoux with greedy desperation, but behind stone she found another layer of stone, not a shrinking drop of that tenderness she had felt once, under the living mountains.

  "Then why waste time?!" Both of Menoux's forearms met her back. "Feel, and through sense, be enlightened!"

  She rolled under his returning sole, countering the speeding heel in time to escape. The light bumps she left on his boot began to fade before her very eyes, but she was beyond despairing at this point.

  Skittering low, she flanked him again, charging in between his legs. Igvaz rose handle first, pointing down at her heart then plunging deep into the earth, taking not a drop of blood with it. Hissing her victory, she climbed behind his thigh and punctured his back, right where his liver should have been.

  The first sign of change was a warbling scream of outrage, completely inhuman despite the feeling expressed. Her Will Serpents drilled under his ribcage, but again, behind stone was stone, and so engrossed she was at finding the other side she didn't notice they both moving until she was crushed on, then through, a robust sapling.

  Using her grip on his inner tissues, she threw her body up and over his shoulder -- only for her ankle to be grabbed. Her head met the dirt, sinking into a crater as a second hand palmed her down underground. Above, a roar: "Then allow me to show myself at last! May the conversations of the divine, the push and pull tearing this pit in halves since its begotting millenia, never bear falsehoods again!"

  It weren't the Serpents who caught it, but her still lesser Will arms groping for any escape. Menoux innermost self was churning again, another reinforcement of his walls to surpass all before. In a panic not even her newfound delight could obscure, she attacked blindly, trying to tear his hand off in any way possible.

  She dug into his gauntlet, squeezing herself inside. The next second, she flew, spinning, her shoulder blowing to shards by an unfortunate impact. She hadn't managed to stop herself before she felt his arrival, and took a gamble. All four of her Serpents lunged together, striking solid ground and pushing her up and away.

  The snap of Menoux's jaw was deafening. The same tree that arrested her momentum had its trunk splintered apart like ripe fruit. She held on and, not two paces below, the golden eyes of the predator turned to meet hers. A swing of her leg, hitting him in the back of the skull like a broken foot trying to nudge a boulder, and she was in the air again, punch blowing her lungs free of air.

  She heard Ignaz's drum shattering cries of impotence, still out of the fight. Whichever relief it brought her was gone as another toss sent her straight towards the fire. Quick thinking, and her beloved Will Serpents gouging the dirt to slow her down, saved her in the nick of time.

  Menoux looked bigger now, she was sure of it. As if he had filled armor to its limits yet pushed it further until it bloated. Hunched, mouth trying to pant through the mechanisms that held his jaw shut, the image of the woodland predator about to end his prey was completed. She skipped a beat.

  "Gorgeous, isn't it?" He soundlessly stalked forward. His arm swiveled in a circle, plates detaching to reveal the bare, engorged muscles beneath, clicking back into place as the motion ended "My mastery is a fraction of what the Prophet and his family could achieve. Degraded by the Vile Sage, passed down by the Aenexians, fruit of the Mission, and my utmost achievement! This is █████ ████ ██."

  The hissing tongue shocked her for an instant. Even some of the sounds made were unlike anything she had ever heard spoken. Menoux preened under her confusion.

  "Hu Lewse Yiworo," he said, and she recognized the Ivian before he returned to the same fluent Yine they always spoke in. "The Iron Tainted Presage. Admitedly, a middling example in comparison to your exceptional awakening to the Descendancy, but-"

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  "The Blood," she rasped out. No matter if she needed to air or not, the sensation of being breathless was agonizing. "It's the Blood."

  "Not in the languages of the Dashi, it is not, " he said. "I had to still that name from your relatives, you know? They were never as keen as you. From our faithful, we prefer more poetic wording."

  "Aaaah, you're ruining all the fun!" She stomped. "It's all drivel! Who cares?! I want to enjoy this, and just this!"

  "Hahaha!" Menoux lowered his stance, opening his arms wide. "Of course! Come at me, let us celebrate the night away!"

  She should be besides herself with pain and fear, shouldn't she? Instead, she giggled, an odd sound to hear from herself, but the circumstances were familiar.

  All she needed was here and now. How could she not have seen it? All her doubts, her frustrations, her anger, they all had brought her here to this place, to this day, to that fascinating gentleman waiting for her step, unbidden, untouchable.

  The answer had been there all along, howling in the dark. No matter. She could always apologize later.

  As one, they charged.

  How could things be different? Menoux was faster than before. His blows were rock slides and earthquakes, glancing alone enough to shake her to the core. And the armor! Shining skin of a perfect being, a shell that put hers to shame, turning teeth and nail away as if blocking dust.

  But so long as she could see, she could evade. So long as she could see, she knew the chinks in his body by heart. So long as she could see, she understood the fortress' defenses, saw the changes to his body before they could take effect, saw the mind blanking hits before they were ready.

  Plates moved to accomodate odd movements, and she ran claws through raw nerves. A joint overextended, and her Serpents sunk deep. When even a perfect body could not hold its balance, she wrestled the giant like a man a third his size, a tenth his strength.

  And for every success, twice he retaliated. For every nerve cut, two of her own were pulped. For every joint exposed, two of hers had to be pulled back in place. For every hit avoided, two could not be, and little by little, what she once knew as herself was peeled away through cruel violence.

  And she was laughing. Laughing like she hadn't since she was a child. Laughing like not even Marquise could make her. The certainty that she was supposed to hate this was fading, and with it her speed increased, her reflexes folded her like a swarm of worms, and the blood she drew came from deeper, mixing under the light of catastrophe in a display that could never be anything less than breathtaking.

  For a moment, she glimpsed beyond and saw the impossible joy in Menoux's every move. For an instant briefer than a blink, she loved him like she had never loved anyone else. What a beautiful monster.

  Regret could wait for after her death. She was going to enjoy this.

  Perhaps she had been fighting for minutes. Perhaps hours. Perhaps days.

  She landed on uneven stumps, dropping to a two fingered hand, so slick she could slip on dry sand. Her two remaining Serpents batted a fist beyond her, and she lunged, teeth shredding through exposed meat and ripping a chunk the size of her palm off.

  Before she could run, a jolt bolted up her spine, and it was... impossible to describe. Electric? Made her see white, made her muscles go loose, spams. As her mind fell blank, she still couldn't say it was unpleasant in the least, merely... strange. Novel.

  Enlightening. A calm settled over her body as utterly ravaged limbs lost that thread of willpower that kept her up, and she hit the dirt face first. All that fugue, all that giddy energy, all blew with the wind and allowed clarity to spread in her absence, to a point anyways. Sanity, she knew, was too far gone to ever come back, and though she logically understood the fit of madness she had been victim to should be disturbing she couldn't help but keep giggling—or croaking, considering the state of her throat.

  "Y-you... you were h-holding back all along, weren't you?" she said. Dully, she noticed she might be dying with some annoyance.

  "Ha!" Menoux shrugged, pulling a loose tooth from the corner of his mouth; he had lost his left eye and a chunk of his face to different blows, "Imagine that! A mentor's job is to guide their youths, not turn them into punching bags to be pounded and replaced when broken!"

  "I'm not a youth anymore."

  "Compared to me, you are a sperm," he scoffed.

  Silence reigned, save for the feast all around them. The flames had grown into a circle around them, taking the trees by their crowns and spreading, devouring the remnants of the earlier chaos with reckless abandon.

  "A-Agare." The view reminded her. "H-he can't move on his own, I need to-"

  "He will live," Menoux said. "Is still alive, anyhow. If only killing these things was that easy... well, congratulations to you, Holly Seneschal, or Mariwa Di Aila if you decide on that path, you have impressed me earned your right to exist back!"

  She glanced at him in bafflement, failing to look above battered stomach. When had he stopped patching himself up? "I-I'm dying and you're standing, how could i have won?"

  "Oh no, I had lost from the beginning!" He chuckled. "The real game never involved you at all. Rather, this was a test to see if you were going to lose with me or not! Listen closely! Not a single one my faithful has survived the night."

  If her body wasn't completely slack, she knew all the tension would have left it then. How unfortunate that she felt too tired to even move her tongue properly. "T-then we're free? We can go?"

  "My sincerest apologies, dear Godling, not even close. You saw it yourself, another has come to take your leash and they might just be a far worst monsters than I!"

  She coughed. What an odd time for jokes.

  A sound of something heavy being pulled from the earth, than gouging everything in its path as it was dragged in her direction echoed. "Generations past, an old man walked a wasteland of ash. He could do nothing but walk. Glazed eyes, half burnt, rags lashed from his skin, he fell into the most obvious trap of the Starlit World entirely because he couldn't be bothered changing directions," he said.

  "You aaren't maaking seeensee," she said.

  "To you."

  She saw Igvaz being rammed into the dirt not half a pace away from her head. Will arms reached for the abomination, but she couldn't see as well anymore. Did it feel as uncertain as she did? She reached out for its wielder, afraid to meet the Fortress' fearsome walls again, but his gates were wide open, inviting her in.

  "I think I hate you, after all," she whispered into himl, afraid of rejection but unwilling to lie. "I don't want to be like you in the least."

  He laughed. Inside, however, he was a deluge of peace, threatening to dilute her among his hallways. "Good! I don't need to be liked! When we first met, I saw you shackled and thanking leeches for feeding on your blood, and that was the insult I could not allow to survive for my Love's sake as well as mine."

  "What if I wanted to be fed on? What if I wanted to be shackled?"

  "Live a real life than ask yourself later." His chiding had the tone of a pat on the head. That was... nostalgic? Only Marquise had dared touch her like that since she was a child. "Divine or Corrupted, a glory like yours should seek no Master before having found a purpose! Now you know how to start looking."

  "I'm scared." Admitting it was enough to make her want to cry. "That shouldn't have felt like myself. It was ugly, evil."

  "Liar. It was the most gorgeous side you have ever shown," He chuckled. "The Beast can act extreme when it gets to exercise withering limbs, but that is far from unnatural. Control it or set it loose, it will never cede to your command if you don't acknowledge it.

  Another sound echoed through the woods, that ever dreadful clacking of metal on metal heading their way.

  "Yesha." Menoux spoke out loud. "Yesha Sila Ogwee. A most fitting name for a farmer, if you knew the stories of his people."

  "Who?" She asked, trepidation growing.

  "That old acquaintance of mine, long gone now," he said. "A decent man, civil as they come, well beloved by his community. He had a strong wife, a scholarly young son, and the best elden daughter he could wish for. She took so much from him some of their neighbors took to calling her Yesha II! She practically blew a gasket every time she heard the name, but to him it was a point of pride."

  "A daughter? So..."

  "You wish! She was a child worth loving. Brash, Bold, lively, a natural leader all her friends looked up to, and whose name made all those crusty priests break out in cold sweat! Giwiwi, sweet fruit of the mountains, may your-

  "... No, forget it." He sighed. She heard a wet suckle, pink and red snakes dripping from below the plates over Menoux's stomach as something like a curved bone slowly emerged. "One day, she went back home bleeding like gutted luun. Got into a fight with some rival kid, took a bad fall, and shambled back home while her buddies tried to cover her. Rushing her to a healer on his arms, her father was livid, swearing the worst of revenges upon that boy and his whole family, but he was afraid and thus stayed by her side until she opened her eyes. When he promised to avenge her, you know what she did?"

  "What?"

  "She cackled!" And he as well. "Actual cackles, like some hermit hag! Her father was happy beyond words, but also completely stunned! And that's when she took the opportunity to say:

  " 'I ain't no crybaby! Ain't no fun to be had without a lil' pain too, don't I come home bruised every other day? So why this one any different?!' "

  Something stepped through the flames.

  From the angle she had fallen she couldn't see the interloper, but they were impossible not to notice. It was as if the sun itself had walked into the battlefield, sending a creeping horror down her neck. Sluggish, her Will curled around her if for no other reason than to allow her a more comfortable death as she instinctually accepted not even at her strongest she could have fled such a being.

  "Didn't stop him from beating the snotty brat and his parents until they saw stars! But her words stuck to me anyway, not sure why. Not like the situation had anything to do with me, right?! Ha!"

  The weapon he had pulled from his own innards resembled a thick knife, much like Igvaz itself, its painfully reflective thickened blade curved and the length of a regular man's arm, details hard to make out through the growing blur.

  Not that she was interested to. Menoux's story bounced inside her skull again and again, repeating a thousand times a second, having tugged deeper than she expected. It made her feel so jealous it hurt.

  "Farewell, Goddess of the Lake. Let us never meet again, although be assured: If I ever hear you strayed once again, I will find you and force feed you your own lungs. You better not doubt me, young lady, I'm a man of my own words!"

  An explosion, and the light grew so intense it seared her eyes dark.

  In those final moments before her conscience gave out, the bitterness lingered. If this butcher could have gone that far, why didn't-

  No. Nothing would have changed, right?

  She could only hope not.