Chapter 3

Morgentus moved through the shadowy streets of New York, just paces behind the vratin he'd been hunting for decades. The feeble old man was no match for his cunning. He just had to reach out to take him. Drawing the hunt out a little longer made the moment exquisite. The lord of the pit could hardly wait to experience his brother's reaction when he found what he'd done.

Gallo turned into the fenced yard alongside the gothic cathedral. If Morgentus was to strike that night, now was the time, before he got back to his haven. After he gave the signal, several of his serpents closed in. Morgentus grinned to himself, delighted that at last he cornered Oriael's pet.

"Not so fast, Baron," a voice called to him from the shadows.

A woman with clownish, red hair stepped into his line of sight. The bitch was old and wore caked on makeup. The baron frowned in disgust. She shared the same sentiments about him.

"This one is protected from the likes of you, fallen one. Another step and your serpents go to Oblivion. Now, call them off like a good lad," she said.

"Insolent bitch!"

"Ah-ah-ah," she corrected him. "Agnes Smith, and I'm not just human—Illuminati. Stand down, Baron," Agnes said.

"Wretched witch," the baron growled.

Agnes drew a pair of short swords from beneath her coat. The serpents had abandoned their original task to assist their master. In a flourish of glinting silver, she dispatched the soldiers and left the corpses to flake into nothing. Her aspect, now cast in his direction, was a warning. The rumble of motorcycle engines joined them from the corners at each end. Warnings were no longer idle threats.

"Another time then, Agnes."

Morgentus smiled, with a promise to meet her again. He then clawed open a gate from which to escape her and the Magnus goons. Safely through, Morgentus flung his hand up to shutter the gate. He didn't spare a look back at the ruffians who ruined his plans. Instead, he would take his failure out on another.

Gathering more serpents to him, the baron entered a sprawling home in the warm clime of the Western United States. He rather liked the weather here compared to the frigid Northeast; it was much more like home. The evening was unseasonably warm. A breeze blustered through the shallow-rooted trees that made their lives in what was once a desert. A patch of Jahannam in Samsara, he mused.

The Spanish style manor housed one of Morgentus' finest projects. Quiet as the grave, that structure held many secrets from other worlds. Nearing it, he picked up the odor of shades. Their scent spun through the air completing the likeness to Acheron.

In a billow of coal dust, he gained the second level. The soft moans of human pleasure tickled his ears. The smile he wore moments before Agnes Smith disrupted his now hunt returned. He opened the door to one of the several bedrooms. A man and a woman tangled in each other's perfect limbs made the scene in the low light of candles. The baron allowed the couple their moment, taking a seat in a dark corner from which he could observe. He always found their version of lovemaking bland, but this was different. The level of depravity was stunningly low-key in its undisclosed manner, making it rather delectable.

The woman, not very attractive in any conventional manner was the bio appliance of his marditavya. Dark circles accented her prematurely aged eyes, caused by the draw on the atman that powered the link between Cursia and it. The baron's careful attention throughout the girl's life had made the mix of the two personalities possible. They were indiscernible, except that when the human he overtook was present, the green of the eye grew brighter, whereas when Cursia was present, her eyes faded to a muddied brown. She was also nearly identical to the woman he stole from the ferryman: from the uneven tones of her skin, that were more shadowy in crooks and bends, to the swollen lips and dark hair. Much of her, however, was achieved through medical procedures and cosmetics. He never understood why she wanted to resemble her possessor, but perhaps there was proof of the marditavya's upper hand, more than he surmised. Melanie Estelle was merely a ghost hanging by a thread to the body she'd been born into, leaving the label of her name for a disguise to her murderer.

Once they finished, the partners took a quiet moment to bask in the afterglow of their climax. Then, the woman went to her ivory bathroom to wash the stain from her skin. The man left her bed, taking every trace of his presence with him. Morgentus pressed his fingers together in a pyramid before his face. His icy eyes followed the man out, remaining unseen by him.

Alone in the room, Morgentus perused the space as if it were a museum exhibit. The woman returned, toweling her hair dry, her slim figure tucked beneath a plush robe. He watched her pass him, wondering if she would acknowledge him or go on pretending she couldn't see him. The way her eyes drifted to his corner of the room made her denial absurd.

"Baron," she murmured.

"Melanie," the Baron said, grinning. "I see you and your brother are still getting along. Whatever will your father have to say?"

"Fuck my father," Melanie said.

"You've taken care of that too," the Baron needled.

"What do you want?" Melanie asked through her dressing mirror.

Morgentus stood next to her, watching the expensive ivory brush course through her dark tresses. He shrugged. The question was pointless, since she already knew the answer. Her attitude was little improved since she turned sixteen. When he placed his hands on her shoulders, her determination to piss him off wavered. She watched him through the mirror. He stared back hard. Drawing her dark hair into one fist, he pried the brush from her hand to preen her, reminding her that he was in fact there and he could touch her.

"I was able to land the roles you told me to," Melanie said in a different tone.

The Baron said nothing. He kept brushing.

"I've made moves to get closer to Colburn."

The Baron halted. His eyes flickered with fire. Striking quick, he used the back of the brush to knock her from the cushion of her dressing table. Melanie cradled her face, a red slash arching up her bony cheek. She stared at him in surprise.

"I warned you not to move until I say."

"Yes, Lord Baron," Melanie murmured.

"Any more stupidity from you and you will return to Jahannam. Your welcome will not be a pleasant one."

"Forgive me," Melanie whispered.

The Baron chuckled. He flung the brush aside.

"I want you to establish yourself with someone who has the power to help our effort. The net must be secure around our quarry before we close in. The foundation is what will ensure your success," Morgentus said.

"As you wish, my lord. Do you have anyone in mind?"

The Baron looked over his shoulder. The television flicked on. Melanie stared at the screen. One of the newest celebrities in the fold was being interviewed on location of his newest endeavor. Gage Harper was an older man, an actor and director, whose efforts had gone unnoticed until recently. Behind the scenes, he was a disgusting pervert with surreal notions of reality and relationships. Melanie frowned, not at all thrilled by him.

"I thought he'd be right up your alley," the baron mused.

The television shut off.

"Think of it as a career step," the baron said.

Melanie lowered her eyes, looking pitiful from where she still crouched on the floor. Morgentus delighted in her torment, but took his leave. He knew she would comply. Her only choice left was unpalatable, considering how spoiled a life she enjoyed in Samsara.

The next matter on his agenda dealt with the other half of his plan. This would exact the revenge for Agnes' steps that night. Hungry to cause pain, Morgentus slipped into Jett's home to rouse the human, and drag him into Astral. From there, he instructed his cub on hunting the elusive red female, stopping her connection to Zion. Once she entered her dreams, they would be waiting.

The dusky atmosphere of Astral hid the denizens of the realm from their prying eyes. Dominic appeared nervous, hearing their whispered chatter. The presence of the serpents did little to bolster his faith in his new leader. Morgentus had an inkling that he would prove a greater asset than the female he stole from Kharon. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, he imparted his assurance that nothing ill would come to him in his presence. Dominic relaxed only a little.

"Come, let me show you how to enter the dreams of other souls so that you may feed," Morgentus said.

"There's only one I wish to feed from." Dominic frowned.

"She's barely a tidbit, Dominic. You must learn to try other things on your plate. There are so many to be had."

Dominic reluctantly agreed. Morgentus led him to a place that looked strangely like his street. The houses were nested in their spacious lots, each encasing someone of note. He stared at the walk leading to his neighbor's plot. Confusion twisted up the features on his face. Money couldn't save them from things that didn't deal in coin.

"Which one do you dislike the most?"

Dominic stammered. He looked around. The choice was limited. It should've been little struggle to speak up, but he hardly knew what to say. The baron expected him to feed upon the energy of people he lived among. His gut rumbled, as if speaking for him. He stared a moment too long at a house diagonal from his drive. An elderly starlet lived there, biding her time before Zion opened its gates again. He knew she saw the women come and go. He knew what she thought of his lifestyle even if she didn't say it. But she pretended to like him anyway.

Morgentus smiled, approving of the choice. Her body was weak while her guardian was complacent. The situation made the perfect example to warm his marditavya to the new life.

Holding his arm out, the Baron urged Dominic across the street. They wound their way up the drive. It all took so much less time than in the real world. Each step zoomed them along, as if the world moved around them instead of them in it, but it was choppy, like a shuddered breath.

Inside the grand house, the Astral reflection stood dark and foreboding. Dominic found the old woman in her living room, sadly reimagining her heyday as a comeback. Her age-wracked figure was trussed up in an old dress, but somehow she looked years younger. Painted up, the flapper grinned as she smoked with ghosts of the past. When her hazy gaze landed on Dominic, she welcomed him in as if he were just another of her boys.

"There you are, take her," Morgentus urged.

Dominic moved quickly and the faded starlet's dreams turned to crimson nightmares. Morgentus watched his new soldier feed greedily, laughing with delirious joy at how easily he slipped into this role.

"Not so fast, Baron!" a voice bellowed from the archway behind him.

A bright white light illumined the house. Morgentus growled, ducking to safety. The guardian wasn't so complacent as he surmised. Leaping through a gate, the Baron barely escaped capture or worse. The gate sealed him safe in Acheron, but the jiangshi he left behind was trapped. Morgentus cursed.

Black veins pressed the surface of the Baron's skin like webbing. He raged through the halls of his maze. His eyes had become black glass. Twice this night his soldiers had been destroyed, and their loss ruined his attempts to control the red female. Not since Zion stole Maiel from his grasp nearly a century ago had he been so angered.

Smashing heads and crushing throats, the baron worked his way toward the manor at the center of the pit. His secondary plan must be implemented. From the bowels of his abode, the baroness had been cultivating Cursia's interface. In whirls of black smoke, he quickly wound into the basement passages of his home to join her.

The baroness knelt beside the body of her assign. Cursia lay cocooned in flames, her hair scorched from her body. Her white skin was left untouched, but an expression of agony pinched her features. Morgentus stroked his wife's gold hair, relishing the touch of each curl as it soothed his temper and returned his pallor. She looked to him from doe eyes. His treasure. A half-smile was all he could spare her; the rage in his atman tormented him too deeply to ever be gentle.

"They discovered our friend, Sabereh. And have killed our pets."

Baroness Sabereh frowned. Her work had put her back in her husband's good graces.

"We need to change to a direct interface. This is the next phase. No more games," Morgentus said, counting the ways in which he'd have his revenge.

"It might kill her," Sabereh warned.

"She needs to occupy the body if she is to be strong enough to withstand the enemy," Morgentus replied. Arguing with him was futile and dangerous.

"I would just hate to see all your work ruined," Sabereh lied. "At this point, who could we find for her to occupy? She's infiltrated the industry, and is viewed as a leader and hero by many of the humans, even the few who know of her strange tastes and real manner."

Indeed, Cursia retained many of her old traits, such as lust and wrath. It led her to relationships with both her estranged father and his son by a timely affair, things that leaked to the tabloids, temporarily making life difficult until her friends were able to squash the information. Stupid humans dismissed it as sniping, rumors meant to hurt their idol, wrought by jealous minds. Her ability to prompt arousal in other humans helped her charm them. They desired her, unclear as to why or little caring. The girl was a poison flower emitting a heady psychoactive that engaged receptors against human will. No wonder Kharon, the ferryman, sought to keep her for himself.

"Make the transition as soon as possible. When I return, it shall be complete. Things need be put in motion to assure their meeting. Once Dominic has a taste of our flower, the red female will be the last thing on his mind," Morgentus said, leaving her to the assignment.

Morgentus went in search of those who could assist in locking down the red female. The removal of his guardians would blind them to her progress toward the shadow. Tweaks in the right place would precipitate the right response. He'd be there to push her gracefully over. Zion was in a position to fall the moment she did. Both he and his master would have their deepest desire. He rubbed his hands together, pleased with the outcome he foresaw.

"Arrogant fool." The words reverberated on the stone.

Morgentus stepped through the gates of Prince Belial's Acherite castle. Belial's pale-yellow hair was smoothed over his shoulders, framing his sun-starved face. His bloody lips parted in a sneer of yellow teeth. The fire in his gold eyes promised a hard welcome for the baron. The prince wasn't alone either. The green robe of his Erebian brother, Prince Gediel, graced the courtyard. He peered from under the cowl, a chalk facade. They were flanked by their knights. The first prince also was with his nephilim and jiangshi. Kneeling before them was Dominic with two of the serpents left behind.

"You didn't foresee the Samsaran protectors getting involved, this formation of insects who call themselves the Illuminati?" Belial continued.

"I'm dealing with it," Morgentus replied, rather bold. "I've instructed the Baroness to insert Cursia. Her direct interface with the bio-vessel will be more powerful than the indirect one my red female enjoys. They may have ejected us from our practice, but time is on our side. These little setbacks are meaningless. We'll replace him before the Earth week is past. Don't be so pessimistic, your highnesses. I've come to bring you good news."

"The human is almost full jiangshi. Allow the matter to take its turn. His hunger will lead him right," Prince Gediel advised.

"You may be in the business of waiting, but Prince Belial isn't." Morgentus pitted them against one another.

The Erebian prince to which he spoke emerged from the shadows. Morgentus swallowed his words. Belial's gaze shifted to his comrade. He agreed with his baron, though he despised his manners. Prince Gediel showed his teeth. Once again, he was outnumbered. Morgentus smiled, inching closer to the leader who offered him protection.

"You walk a fine line," Belial said.

"Perhaps, but I'll be back in your favor by the close of this evening. After midnight, Samsara Earth time, come to me in the maze."

Morgentus noticed that the pendant housing the atman of the fallen Maxiel was absent from around the prince's neck.

"I sense that you're going to attempt something more than impressing your usefulness upon us. You want something in return," Prince Gediel guessed.

Morgentus grinned, carefully peering about in search of the elusive alder. He nodded, chuckling to himself. Shaking a finger at the prince, he arrogantly affirmed the deduction. Of course, he needed something from them. Why else would he bother to come to Belial's castle to risk the completion of his mission? They despised him. What they saw as slip-ups made each visit that much more dangerous. A wiser danava would avoid their presence if he or she had no cards to play to suit necessity.

"Indeed, Prince. Indeed. First, I require a handful of prisoners. Then I need you to assure that my darling Cursia succeeds in possessing the body she now interfaces with. The atman meant to occupy it can go to the victor," Morgentus tempted.

The princes regarded him in silence. Morgentus paced, knowing they ran through every scenario before they dare accept his proposition. He also knew that they protected their interests. However, they couldn't consider what grand prize it was he kept for them later, and he would be their champion no matter who they set up to step into his place. Morgentus faced them, holding his arms out to either side. They nodded their reluctant acceptance of the terms then passed their orders to the waiting underlings. The forces would dispatch to Samsara immediately. Morgentus laughed. His wings spread wide with relish.

Upon his return to the sanctuary of The Pit of Acheron, Morgentus paced the halls, gathering soldiers to him that were the strongest while feeding on the ones that were far too weak. His strength brimmed, eyes blackened over like ebony jewels. High on the energy he stole, he contemplated the evening's failures and successes, a meandering path of change that foresaw his rise to the rank of earl, perhaps even a duke.

Crossing the threshold of an underground cathedral, Morgentus went to check on the delivery of prisoners. Behind panes of glass, a long room stretched the gothic interior. Beds lined the expanse, all filled with stolen souls. The miserable wretches spotted him and banged their bodies against the glass, pleading for their release. He bared his teeth, striking the glass to send them back to the recesses. He ordered his gathered soldiers to drain them until they slept and not a drop more. The screams that followed returned the smile to his face.

Morgentus wandered up the passage that turned from the glassed-over entrance of the cathedral to the rest of the labyrinth. The princes agreed to accompany him on this mission, but had failed to yet appear. Soon, she would arrive. The day closed for her, another spent in despair and floundering. Likewise passed the opportunity to act before the guardians were replaced. Time ran out for them to benefit from her capture.

Time ticked painfully by until the red female appeared in the corridor. His breath caught; he was unable to believe the vision. She faced the glass wall, just as he planned. Pulsing with anticipation, Morgentus watched her move toward the bait. She paused, marveling at the glowing blue ring in her eyes and the fantastic armor of cobalt. Indeed, she stole his breath, too. The presence, stilted by the human bio-vessel's mind, assured him success. The anticipation was intolerable.

The erela's wings went rigid. She pressed into the glass, passing through with ease. Once inside, it was just a matter of time before she turned in his direction. She was smart enough to know the passage behind would be milling with danava closing in on her scent. However, Maiel fooled him before; she was a witty, brazen duta, grown more in tune with the certainty of her strength. A challenge such as a maze full of soldiers was something she delighted in. At last, the human portion of her consciousness had begun to realize all of it. However, he was quite aware of the paralyzing fear his presence instilled within her. It was that on which he counted.

Maiel's haughty expression glowed with power, lighting the dark passage. He counted the steps of her sandaled feet as he waited for just the right moment. The princes wouldn't come. He couldn't wait any longer for them. Passing into the sickly light that served as a sun for Jahannam, a dying star beyond the rock that imprisoned their world, she crossed his threshold. Morgentus and his soldiers stepped closer. The warrior eyed him and the barbarians at his sides.

"Where do you think you're going?" Morgentus asked.

"The souls don't belong to you. I've come to take them back," Maiel replied.

Morgentus noted the shift in her attitude. No note of fear shone in her eye, nor wrinkled her brow. The girl would've cowered in days past, but now she stood confident against their threat. What had changed? He scowled as he took a step closer. The errands of the previous night should've served as warning. She watched him, merely prepared to fight for the protection of those she stole from him.

"I'll make you a deal," he said, grinning. The frightened souls now cowered around her. He took two more steps then continued, "I'll let them go, as you wish—if you come over to me. Such power you could wield at my side."

Maiel cocked her head aside. The crooked curl of her lip menaced him. The erela wasn't afraid, but he would soon make her terrified. His aspect darkened.

"All right. You let them go and I'll come over to you," Maiel said.

Morgentus' mind went numb upon the impact of her response. He checked himself, unsure that he dreamt this moment or finally witnessed it. He exhaled, disbelieving her. A grin split his face. Waving his gloved hand, he dismissed the souls through a door into Samsara, content to see them go as he won his prize.

Maiel's eyes carefully followed him, not needing to follow their escape to know they were safe. Even if he double-crossed her, she knew she could find them again, so again rescue them. With the last one through, she lifted her chin in that arrogant manner that befit her rank. A swipe of her blade, then entrance shattered. He heaved a wrathful breath, but calmed himself, denying the desire to strike. She sauntered over to him and smiled, so very close to his face. Her fear of him was quite dead. Her blue eyes bored into his.

"I'm over here," Maiel said.

The wily erela promised him nothing. She took the words to the literal meaning. He shook his head, his aspect black with anger, glad that Belial wasn't there to witness his failure.

"You're in trouble—you shouldn't have come here," Morgentus growled.

"No. You're in trouble," Maiel said with a promise.

Belial warned him. Morgentus' expression straightened. The erela was too loyal to betray her friends, even if her ketu broke in a burning down. When her perfect mouth opened to sing the name of her highest commander, the warning of his prince was far too late. It was too late in coming when it didn't precede the first meeting with this destructive vixen.

The maze shook as in a quake, dust and rock falling in their midst. A brilliant light illumined above, forcing Morgentus to shield his eyes. Maiel grinned for having won the fight. This move neutered his threat to her and Zion.

Mikhael landed with a thunderous crash. His great wings spread in flight, folded onto his back. Morgentus sneered, his eyes blacking over to points of light pinning the general. He hated him with an inferno greater than that which burned inside of Gehenna.

"Filthy maggot! I've been waiting for this very call," Mikhael hissed.

Mikhael glanced at his captain seeming unimpressed by her risk-taking. He ordered her to wake. Maiel refused him, but her graceful limbs faded from this dark domain despite her will. The attention of the great general was now the baron's alone. With swift moves, he dispatched the enemy's guards, leaving the baron with no protection or means of escape. Morgentus stared, struck dumb by the svarg's speed and power.

"Did you think to make a present of her or me to your dandy lords?" Mikhael asked, mocking the wronged rulers of Jahannam beneath the fallen star of Zion.

"You despise us because of your jealousy for Lucifer, General. Your bitch trespassed in my domain. I intended nothing but keeping my territory unmolested," Morgentus dared.

The words failed to have the desired effect. Mikhael laughed.

"That's the oldest accusation I've heard. To what am I jealous? His icy prison? Shortsightedness? A fine jest, Baron. You trespassed first—taking souls that were not yours to take."

Mikhael neared him, aiming the point of his great sword.

"My hand is stayed once by Metatron. Try me again, I'll end you. The captain is off limits. Take her husband, as you will, but don't dare to wander near her unless you fancy Oblivion."

The general left in the thunderous manner in which he arrived. Morgentus rested against the stone, growing steadily angrier. Cutting his losses for now, Morgentus opened the door into his marditavya's Earth home. His sinister form crept through the rooms until he stood at Jett's bedside once more. The human opened his eyes, unable to move or speak as his brain was kept from switching over from dreams to waking. Morgentus knelt beside him, smoothing his blond locks back. The seal of his ownership glowed like gold flame. The black of his atman filled his veins, pressing them to the surface of his skin.

"How is my assign, Mr. Colburn? Did that pesky guardian frighten you? Well, let me deepen that cut! Mikhael has forsaken you—and so has your wife. I warned you not to go too far. Alas, when have you ever listened to wisdom? Her loyalty assured, such desires could've waited for more opportune times. So be it. I still get your atman, and payment is due."

Jett's eyes rolled. He struggled to breathe. Morgentus' chuckle was a low rumbling in his throat. The baron's attention went to the woman lying beside the inept jiangshi. Somehow the tart managed to turn Jett's head. Of course, she was the only one not wise to his tricks. Cleaned up from anything harder than hash or liquor, she thought Jett a suitable mate. This Addison Riley was a fool, one of the newer souls injected into this hard world to putter around until she learned a thing or two to make her worthy, worthier than him to remain a citizen of Zion. The notion needled at him. He imagined tearing her scalp from her skull with his bare hands, ripping her spine out through her scrawny ass.

The shadow of Riley's willowy erela, who hailed from the Aeris Order, approached the threat. Indeed, her head must be of air if she thought to stand against him, guardian or no. Morgentus sneered. The erela pointed a pair of silver sais. He grinned at her, pressing his finger against the tip of the middle prong. It burned, but he refused to show pain.

"I've word about you. As much as I'd like to help the general, I'll only protect my assign from your contaminated touch. She's precious to me. Remove the human from her or I will."

Morgentus clucked his tongue at her, raising a brow. He wasn't impressed. This guardian had the brass to speak but nothing to back her words.

"Not yet. I still have to put my chessboard in order," Morgentus replied.

The baron looked at the human of whom they spoke. His eyes bulged from his tanned face. His heart beat rapidly on the cusp of an attack. Morgentus put his hand over Jett's eyes to shove him back into a dream, unfortunately pleasant by the man's standards. Once the human was focused on pumping the lovers filling his mind, Morgentus returned his attention to the duta.

"She has a gentling affect upon my man. She's safe for now—but, her sickly sweetness will wear thin soon, and you can whisk her away from the stinking bonds they've managed to forge."

"Fine. If he lays a finger on her, as he did with Captain Maiel—I'll cut him. No quarter, Baron," the erela hissed.

"An erela after my heart. Mind you, that spot is taken by one who shows no mercy to her adversaries and does not make deals. Don't vie for the place—unless you wish to end up like my current baroness, madam," Morgentus warned, rising to his feet.

The erela made a sound of disgust; she had no retort for such a profane statement.

Morgentus stepped backward through his door.

"Do me a favor. Keep him alive, and I promise to let you deal with him when the time comes for me to collect. That's a good girl," Morgentus taunted.

The Aeris watched him slink back into the shadows with his lies.

***

Belial crossed the threshold of his private chambers. The dolls draped over the furniture were resting between seemingly ceaseless bouts of lovemaking. Their eyes watched him, filled with both hate and want. The corners of the prince's mouth turned up. Loyalty was a precious treasure in Jahannam. He wasn't sure the last time any of his fellow prisoners or puppets actually had any. Given the chance, they would finish him to be free of his leash and of the appetites his presence put in their guts. Just like them, he bided his time to be free of his master too. A deal with his Erebian brother was the means.

"My precious dolls," Belial said. He touched the face of a female lying on a couch nearest the door he entered. She arched her body to him. He smiled upon her. "How would you like a new playmate?"

Their attention was his. He laughed as he manipulated them back into his careful fists.

Crossing the room, the prince stood before a tall mirror dusky with age, harkening finer times in finer spaces. Belial ran his hand along the frame. The dolls creeped toward him. He smiled to himself. The reflection turned black. He passed through the gate. The other side was a glittering fairyland. A forest stretched deep and thick around all sides of the forgotten grounds of a once fine castle. Now, the roots of the trees took back the stones, winding about them in knotty settings, slowly eating them away like the bachlach, the shadow boarwellum.

Belial scanned the long rectangle on which he stood, eyes searching for the one he came to find. This was their allotted time. Pacing the ruins, his form softened from the corpse-like visage of his fallen self to a frame that echoed one of days long lost since the Conflict. Ashen tresses became gold. His features warmed in tone. The blood in his eyes receded. He spread his wings. The appendages blossomed into feathers that shone like gold.

"Praefect Belios, I apologize for the lateness of my arrival. Her majesty—let me just say that she is young and challenging."

Belial turned his head, smirking. The queen was a brat.

The owner of the sniveling voice was an aghart named Cobon, advisor to the child-queen who ruled the planet. He was middle-aged and tired of his duty as the queen's babysitter. The girl was just old enough to rule. Her father and mother passed in a terrible accident that left their world with a gaping hole in their hearts, one that was to be filled by the tiny creature they birthed. By royal decree, Cobon had been charged with her protection should such a thing come to pass. Advisor and educator, Cobon had served the parents and displayed a desire for greater power by attempting to manipulate them to his will. It wasn't that Cobon was evil, but he was prideful and thusly believed that his vision of the world correct. All others either followed his lead or opposed him in a desire to prove him a fool. Of course, this rather disturbed the advisor, but before he became a trembling snake of paranoia choking the life from his own body, Belial stepped in to sing his praises, then taught him exactly how to accomplish the goals for which he worked so hard. All of this was accomplished in the form he now portrayed to the aghart, a duta come to secretly aid the aghart people before they followed a dark path sure to result in their destruction.

"Don't consider it, Cobon. As her advisor, you're necessary to the running of the government. Your time is precious."

"Gracious, duta." Cobon bowed.

Belial fought a grin as he rounded a broken pillar. He came to stand quite near the advisor. Since Morgentus had failed him so many times before, and Maxiel was missing somewhere in Jahannam, he turned to another of his minor playthings, to carry out a mission to make certain of his success in tearing down the barriers between him and Zion.

"Did you speak with her majesty on the matter I had word about?"

"Indeed." Cobon nodded. "She was quite receptive, as you said she would be."

"Grand. Grand. Well done, Cobon."

Belial tucked his arms behind his back and spread his wings to bring attention to them. Then, he stepped past the advisor.

"Councilor Phaon is waffling on the consensus we built in aghart regarding Earth. I need you to ensure that the queen remains certain they are a threat to your world. If she loses sight of that, you're all doomed, I fear. Phaon is a good soul. His heart is in the right place. I too see their merits, but the fact is that they will wage war against Aghartia given the chance. It is your gold, your differences—the fear you will fill them with at being so advanced."

"Such was the same with the naiades," said the councilor. "Their petition was refused again, preventing them from joining the orders."

"Don't even let the humans get that far. They should never know of you or the others. It is too dangerous. If it will ever be safe—I cannot see that far."

Cobon swallowed. Belial put a hand on the advisor's shoulder and smiled gently. Fear was a very powerful leverage.

"Do not fear, Cobon. The duta will keep you safe, so long as you follow my prescription."

Cobon nodded. "Yes, yes, Praefect Belios."

"Good lad. I will now return to General Horus and tell him of our progress. Be ever watchful of the shadows."

"Be ever watchful," Cobon said, watching Belial exit through his gate.

Belial returned to his waiting dolls. They stroked and pressed the mirror for admittance to their homeland. Falling from Aghartia left them with a deeper, more pointed hunger to return home than the lusts of Jahannam.

"Soon, my darlings. Soon you will have your homes back."

Belial smiled as they surrounded him, intent on other pleasure in the face of denial. His laughter echoed through the halls of his fallen palace.