I hope that this chapter finds everyone safe during these scary times! If you ever need someone to chat with or are just bored, please message me. We've got to stick together during these dark times :)

You seem tired today,

Were you up all night afraid of what the future might bring?

I feel fine today,

I've had dreams of you in places I've not seen before,

You get so carried away,

Like lovers new to bodies' first to touch you here, 

This ain't a getaway,

You built walls around your heart to try to lock it in.

- Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats, You Worry Me

3

She wasn't entirely sure when she had drifted off.

Only a few had managed to survive the skirmish at Dalestown. All that was left was a defeated, tired, broken team of Pueblo's and a few from town who hadn't died. Someone had told her to take a break as they guided the horses attached to the carriage carried what supplies they had managed to save. She must have slipped off.

Her dreams were a troubled, brewing mess of her past. A tangled mess of memories that she had not thought about in years.

-Qemirrjil shot a brief smile toward her, brandishing the book that she had found on the shelves. Fury returned her smile, returning back to the one that she was already studying on the table. "Yes, that is the one. If we combine this equation with the one from that one, we should be able to forge an elemental weapon." The other Nephilim woman nodded, eyes gleaming with-

-roaring harshly and Fury ducked, missing Hajor's axe blade as it sailed over her head. His training sessions were becoming more violent, and she worried that one day Death would not be able to stop the raging Nephilim from beheading her. She darted to the side and the ground exploded in her absence as Hajor slammed his axe down. The large Nephilim swung the axe again; again, she ducked, this time feeling the heat of Hajor's axe. Her attention darted briefly to Death, who was silently watching, and her lapse of focus rewarded her by being kicked in the gut in midair. Her breath caught as pain enveloped-

Two memories were not fragmented. One was of her triumph.

Absalom smiled at her as she approached him, head held high. The crowd of Nephilim parted to allow her clearance through them. Every single one bowed their head as she walked by, even Hajor though the snarl on his face said that he was only conforming to the rest. The day had finally come where they would accept her as one of them, as a Nephilim strong enough to level armies, to defeat Angels and Demons alike, to cause those to shake with just the mere mention of her species. She had endured their jeers, their lies, their constant wrath. Now she walked among them as equals.

The leader of the Nephilim, Absalom, was there to give her the weapon made just for her. He brandished it in his large hands, waiting for her to claim it. Standing beside him, still emotionless as ever, was her eldest brother. Death had crafted the weapon himself, spending days in his forgery creating the whip from scratch beginning to end. Every piece, every material, everything had been chosen based on her skill, her ability to grow, her intelligence. All it was waiting for was her to name it.

Nephilim ceremonies did not contain many words, but Absalom hesitated before allowing Fury to take the whip. She looked up at him, confused. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Death's face twist slightly into a disapproving scowl.

"Fury. You are my second-in-command's oldest sibling, but also the strongest and most intelligent. None of us believed that you had the capability to grow into the Nephilim that you now present to us to truly become one of us. Never stop fighting for control." He gave her a small smile, once again holding the whip out for her. "Maybe one day you will be my second. Death may be losing his touch."

"Watch what you say, Absalom. She does not need the encouragement."

Glaring, Fury snatched the whip from Absalom's hand. Ever since it had become clear that Fury would join the same ranks as Death, he had grown wary of her. He watched her constantly, asking her to not let her newfound power consume her. Why shouldn't she? She had grown from her hatred of the Nephilim for teasing her, telling her that she was nothing. One day, she would show him too.

Turning to the Nephilim behind her, she held the whip up. A cheer arose as she announced the name of the weapon: Scorn.

The other was full of pain.

Strife tumbled to the ground in front of her, weakly grabbing at one of the five arrows that pierced his chest. As anger bloomed hotly through her body, she whirled around to face the Nephilim that was calmly lowering her bow. The Nephilim had learned how to shoot through Strife's guidance; of course she would have been able to litter the White Horseman with arrows before he could raise his gun.

The side of Qemirrjil's mouth twitch as Fury acknowledged her. Her brother forgotten, Fury roared as she flicked Scorn. With a single side-step, Qemirrjil dodged every blow, but never engaged in attack. This only caused more anger to grow through Fury. Red exploded across her vision and she dove forward. Of course the bitch would know her every move; just like her, Qemirrjil had been an outcast of society due to her small size so Fury had taken her under her wing. Fury had created Qemirrjil into the silent warrior that she was now, and the Horsewoman was regretting every second of it.

Finally, Qemirrjil reacted. With a single twist that seemed virtually impossible, the Nephilim had somehow managed to wrap most of Scorn around her bow, using her strength to whip Scorn from Fury's hands. She had always been stronger than Fury -she was related to Hajor for crying out loud. Without hesitating, Fury immediately reacted, sending a roundhouse kick into Qemirrjil's stomach. Qemirrjil absorbed the kick and struggled to find her feet. Using this to her advantage, Fury swung a punch at the other Nephilim. Dodging it with ease, they continued to bat back and forth, each one knowing the other's move perfectly. It was Strife that settled the conflict for them; from a propped position on the ground, he shot Qemirrjil through her thigh. As she crumbled in shock, Fury slammed her to the ground, pinning the other Nephilim before she could escape.

Grasping a rock, Fury lifted it over her head to deliver the last, messy blow. A defeated Qemirrjil stared up at her. It was at that moment, while her student looked at her through a swollen, bloody eye that she realized what she was doing. But it couldn't be helped. The balance of the galaxy laid within Fury's hand. As she battled with what to do, Qemirrjil whispered, "I'm sorry. I understand." Tears threatened to overwhelm Fury. It was the first time that Qemirrjil had spoken to her; she had always whispered to Hajor, who blasted what she had spoken.

What was she doing?

"Get off my damned sister!" A hand grasped Fury's head, jerking her off Qemirrjil. Hajor stood over her, a wild fury in his eyes. She had grown used to his anger and height, but, in her shocked state, he seemed larger and angrier than ever before. "I will not let you kill her!" His axe rose and Fury scrambled back, searching frantically for her weapon. Her hand finally found it, but much too late.

Before Hajor could split her in half, several bullet holes ripped through his chest. Hajor convulsed a couple of times before collapsing, lifeless. Strife limped to her, pulling her shocked body to her feet. "We must help Death with Absalom. I don't know if he can defeat Absalom."

"Qemirrjil?"

Instead of speaking, Strife adverted his eyes from her. Fury saw her body, having died from the injuries that Fury had inflected while she had lost control, and sadness crushed her soul. Qemirrjil had deserved a better death by someone other than her hands when she had lost control. She had been too smart to let Fury kill her; she would have known what Strife was going to do. The thought only saddened her even more.

Strife pulled at her arm. His grip was still weak, but she could see the gift of the Charred Council's immortality already healing him. "Fury, we must help Death."

She stood there a moment more, staring at Qemirrjil's body and allowing her memories of the Nephilim to slip away. There was no point in remembering those that were dead, especially those that would only cause pain. Her hands balled into fists and she broke her gaze to glare at Strife. "Why."

Her brother gave her a surprised look, pain enveloping him for a moment as he pulled a bloody hand away from his chest. "Absalom and he are matched in ability, Fury. If we don't help, Death may die!"

"If Death dies, then I would lead the Horseman. I should be the one leading the Horseman."

Strife's hand fell from her shoulder. When she looked at him, there was a visible barrier that had formed between them. Confusion and hurt haunted their shared golden eyes, his now stained by her unfaithfulness to their eldest sibling. They may be responsible for killing the Nephilim, but some of their culture coursed through their blood. Siblings did not betray siblings. "Who are you?"

"I am a Horseman, just like you should be."

The first thing that she saw when she woke was him. He watched her silently in thought as he followed the carriage, his stride long enough to match the pace of the horses with ease. They said nothing for a while before he finally spoke.

"Regretting anything?"

"No. If we had not killed you, the Nephilim would have taken over the universe and upset the Balance. The Council was right about that."

"You killed us to gain power, Fury. Don't play naive with me. The Charred Council had nothing to do it. They are nothing more than stone heads." Surprise must have flickered across her face because he laughed, a sound that was dry with sarcasm. An evil smile spread across his countenance. "You have not changed, Fury. You are still the power-hungry Nephilim that you were before you murdered us."

"You have not changed from your manipulative-self, Absalom," she whispered.

He gave her his characteristic smile, an evil glint in his dark yellow eyes, his headpiece, and thick beard. Even after the Nephilim demise and destruction, nothing about their leader had changed. She was just as she remembered him on his last days; built similarly to War, Absalom stood tall with large, wide shoulders and muscular arms. His chest stood bare, his lower half covered in the armor from the old days. His exposed skin bore witness to the signs of Corruption that had overtaken him when Death had last seen him. Pink, fresh scars tore through his left shoulder and created a labyrinth or raised flesh down his arm to his fingers, where they ended with actual claws. On his back, the remains of the black corruption were lumps. All the scars and lumps were rough to the touch, like sandpaper had been glued to his body.

It didn't appear that his 'episode' with Corruption had phased him. Besides from the visual reminders, no one would have known. Fury doubted that the Kingdom of Man. Absalom was worshiped among the citizens of Dalestown; as one of the few Nephilim with the gift of magic, he had spent his energy in creating the shield that had protected them until that last day. Still manipulating, but he was... calmer. It was like the Corruption had sapped all the evil from him.

She hoped so, at least.

They had been walking for far too long. After the destruction of Dalestown, it was clear that they needed to go somewhere. Census vote was for Andrew's establishment despite the distance; it was one of the few places that existed. Without wasting much more time, Pueblo had gathered everyone left from the two and began moving them across the meadows and nothingness. While the meadows were boring and left them vulnerable, at least they could see everything approaching them. The Nephilim traveling with them took care of any dangers. Their superior ability for battle meant they were weren't physically exhausted unlike the others. Plus, they knew how to defeat a group of angels, demons, or orcs. The last two days had been extremely rough on everyone, and it was starting to be seen in the Nephilim as well. Fury was one of the few who had been able to sleep, even if it was for a few minutes.

It was strange being so involved with the three Nephilim again. Hajor did not appreciate her presence, which was understandable. He distanced himself from her, marching at the very front of the traveling group with his huge war axe casually resting on his shoulder waiting to be used. Qemirrjil had situated herself in the middle. Like Fury remembered her, she silently moved along, somehow managing to blend with the others despite her Nephilim size. And, like the alpha of a wolf pack, Absalom trailed.

He must have caught her staring because he cleared his throat. "What is wrong, Fury?"

"I think that you have lost the ability to speak casually to me."

"You forgot who murdered who!" Absalom barked in laughter at her reply, giving her another flash of a smile before leaning down closer. "There is nothing wrong with me asking how you are. It is not like we are sharing beds again."

She stared at him. Out of everything that had happened in her past, that had been one of the things that she had attempted to forget. And she had a lot to forget. Like killing her own kind, for example. Having a relationship with one of the most hideous figures in the galaxy, universe, and everything, was another example that she had actually been succeeding erasing him from her memory. Until now.

Being Absalom's lover had been... hot, sexy, brief, manipulative. It had started off innocent enough and soon after she had gained her whip. Absalom had shown interest in her and Fury, who was still mostly shun from the other Nephilim, had leapt on the chance to have a relationship. She had been weak, too ready. It was probably the one thing that she was not smart in; her studies and physical weakness had deterred her from the other Nephilim. Wiser, more experienced, Absalom had used her in many ways with his large fanged smile, including as an advantage to her brothers.

There was a small thrill in it as well; Death had not approved. The day that he had found out, he had grabbed her wrist the moment that she had entered their home, growling. "You don't know what you are doing, Fury. Being this close to Absalom, especially now, is putting all of us in danger." They had already begun speaking to the Charred Council and Fury was loving the rebellion.

Like she had said, it was brief. But the relationship had told her that power was the answer to many things. Power worked fear into the hearts of those who had believed that she was weak. Being the lover of the most powerful leader in the world had opened doors that she never would have believed.

Who cared about the ones that had closed?

Seeing that he had shocked her into silence, Absalom turned to leave but she called out to him, having gathered her wits. She had questions for him. When she had last known him, he had been the most evil, corrupt being in every universe that had ever existed. From speaking to the inhabitants of Dalestown, he had been the one to put up the shield around the town to protect them. She couldn't tell what was happening. Was Absalom back to his manipulative deeds? If so, she needed to know.

"Why did you put up the shield, Absalom? How did it fail?" Fury prompted. Her practice in magic was limited, and it had been years since she had practiced most of the old Nephilim spells. The shield had been ancient magic, a combination of pure angelic spells with a Nephilim twist. Theoretically, there shouldn't have been anything on Earth strong enough to break it.

"Rather you believe me or not, I have decided that there isn't much personal growth from wanting to be the only ruler of the universe. You learn a lot from dying, being resuscitated as the being of Corruption, and dying again. This is technically my third life. I will not screw this one up. As for the shield, I do not know how it was broken."

"You must know something."

The small shrug was everything that Fury needed to know that Absalom wasn't lying. He did not enjoy showing any sort of weakness. "I looked. Nothing. The only thing that I can think is that possibly the Ash had something to do with it."

The Ash. She had almost forgotten about the black mass that was supposed to be consuming the Kingdom of Man. It was hard to remember with everything else that had happened since they had arrived here. The threat was always looming in the background, never the most immediate threat when everyone was attempting to conquer hunger, shelter, and thirst. Knowing her brothers, it would be her responsibility to learn as much as she could about the mysterious force. "What do you know about it?"

"Not much. I know that it kills everything. There was another Nephilim that was resurrected with us. He never came back from investigating it," the Nephilim stated blankly. "I never approached it or sent the others because the Kingdom of Man needed us."

Fury snorted in disbelief. "What happened to the Nephilim that used to kill everything that he saw?"

"Oh, dear Fury." Again, Absalom gave her his famous, canine-flashing smile. "I believe that your brother killed that version of me twice now."

There was a shout up ahead. Absalom left her then, and Fury propped herself up on the back of the wagon driver's seat. She had apparently been asleep for a while. Andrew's camp laid ahead of them and she sighed in relief. Despite the unsanitariness, depressing, and starving camp, she had missed this place; it was still safety and something she sort of knew during this time. Anin was at the entranceway, speaking with Tama and Kezz, both of whom looked a little... burnt. Andrew was with them as well.

Leaping from the side of the wagon, Fury attempted to fix her ruffled appearance. The last couple of weeks had begun wearing her down. Get kidnapped, fight some people, wake up and not know where she was, travel some more, get chased by a werewolf wanting to kill her, seeing some friends she never wanted to meet again, fighting some more.... It was enough to drive a woman crazy. But she wasn't going to let anyone see that. Popping the collar of her jacket up, she pressed down loose hairs, she pulled her pants up a little. Sometimes a woman's greatest arsenal was her looks and she hoped that Andrew was going to notice every bit.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Not you," she instinctively replied, ignoring Zakee as he matched her pace.

He looked terrible. Between adjusting to be a werewolf and traveling from the remains of Dalestown, he was tired. Dark circles were underneath his eyes, his clothes torn and dirty. His voice was weaker than normal. Werewolves had more power than a normal human did, but they still had to sleep.

Gaze glancing over the four standing at the entrance of the camp, he snorted. "Which one is the target?" Before Fury could change the subject, he continued. "I don't think it would be Tama and Kezz. You have to be into that kind of thing. Tama's got this old, stiff soldier man thing going on. He's obviously not going to respond to your advances. Kezz... I don't think you're crazy enough to even think about that. And Anin...." He trailed off, giving them both enough time to watch the dark-haired man use his spear to casually scratch the side of his nose. "Anin's Anin. So that leaves Andrew. All the women want to tap into that."

"I won't deny you the truth." Lifting an eyebrow, Fury was silently impressed. Zakee was still young, maybe in his late twenties, and still slightly innocent.

"I have sisters," he said, as if that helped. After a moment, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I didn't come over here to pick on you. I... I want help with this werewolf thing. You seem like you know a lot about it. I'm scared that I might hurt someone."

Fury's face twitched. While she understood Zakee's reasoning, she really did not want to babysit a newly bitten werewolf. They were unpredictable until they learned how to deal with their alter egos and she was still learning how to fully use her human body. Besides, she needed to focus her time and energy on finding things out about the Ash. In the long run, the Ash was going to be more important than teaching Zakee how to control his mood swings and I-want-to-kill-everything phases. His note from his sleep that one day still burned at the back of her mind as well: Kill the Horsewoman.

"Please. I know that I'm asking a lot. We had one that stumbled into the camp once and... and we had to kill him because he was responsible for a couple of murders. You said that I could tame it. Teach me how." It was in a slightly begging tone that made Fury curl her nose up. Weak. "I can still hear those voices."

This piece of information sparked Fury's interest. "You still have voices?" Normally, the voices only lasted until the first transformation. Fenrir, the demon of the werewolves, loved playing with his victim's minds for a little while, whispering and giggling in their ears until they changed for the first time. But he left them alone after that. The wolves either did his bidding or he grew bored. Why would Fenrir still be speaking to Zakee? "What do they say?"

Pulling at his hair, Zakee shook his head. "I can't really tell. Most of the time its growling and barks. Other times, if its actual words, its too soft for me to hear. I hear them now."

"You don't know enough of wolf language to understand yet." Fury was guessing at this; she had assumed that a werewolf would instantly learn this when they changed, but perhaps not. "Yes, I will help you then. I want to know what Fenrir's plans are for you."

"Fenrir?"

"He is the werewolf demon, the one that is responsible for werewolves. He's the only one who can possibly be speaking in your head. I will teach you know to block him and how to control your wolf. We should start as soon as possible once you have rested."

Zakee's eyes flashed with annoyance. "There is no time to rest. I am going to speak with Andrew about moving the camp to the safe haven that my sisters live in. Preparing for this and traveling there will not give me time to rest since I am one of the few people who know the way. We can discuss more of this when we are moving."

"The safe haven? What-?"

"Don't ask questions about it. They will be answered in time."

He ignored her bristling; they were within earshot of the others. Pueblo had reached them as well, the once thief giving a brief summary of what had happened to Dalestown to Andrew. Absalom stood in the background, slowly taking in the camp as he listened. It looked the same as it had before. Fury stood beside Anin, who reached for a fist bump once she was close enough, and Zakee took his place besides Andrew.

"This is terrible news," Andrew was finishing. "I'm sorry about Dalestown, but we don't have the supplies or space to receive all of your people."

"I expected as such. We don't ask for any of those, only merely the protection of staying in numbers." Pueblo brushed some of his hair from his face, revealing the bandaged wound across his forehead. "We're tired and need the time and safety to rest before we move-on. Zakee and I want to speak to you about moving on to the haven."

Zakee nodded, missing the glare that Andrew shot him. "It's time that we move there. Everyone will be safe."

Andrew thought for a few minutes as Kama shifted anxiously behind him. A ghost of a smile grew across Fury's lips. Obviously, he knew who Absalom was and did not appreciate that the Nephilim was studying their home so intently. At least someone else shared her concern. Shaking his head, Andrew said, "the weather won't let us pass. There is still snow on the mountains. We would have to wait at least another two weeks before it would be safe to past through."

"I can take care of that if you are worried about the weather," Absalom said dryly.

The leader of the Kingdom of Man looked up at the Nephilim as if he was seeing him for the first time. He blinked, taking Absalom's almost ten-foot stature looming over him. "And who are you?"

"Do they know?" It took Fury a moment to realize that Absalom was speaking to her and asking her permission to share that she was a Nephilim as well. Even though it caught her off guard, she nodded. "I am the species that Fury was before she lost her powers. I am a Nephilim, the child of angel and demon. Two of my brethren are here as well. We have sworn to protect Dalestown and its people. We can help with traveling to this haven."

Andrew exchanged a gaze with Fury, demanding that they have a conversation later. She smiled at the thought.

"To the haven then?" Zakee prompted after a moment of silence.

Another few nerve-racking moments passed before Andrew nodded, looking pained. "To the haven."