After plunging Cain’s dagger in each of his eyes.
Slowly.
After I made him beg me to do it.
I stared at the white fire crackling before me. The mountain air was chilly up here, but I’d acquired a hooded cloak of living crystal flame to keep me warm—among other things. Strange horses grazed in the skeletal, barren trees just beyond the campfire’s light. I could smell hot blood in the frigid air, proving the beasts weren’t eating foliage, but something that had once had a pulse.
“Well?” a voice asked, drawing my attention back.
I looked up at the cloaked figure, studying his strange Mask and his strange wings. He was dangerous, this one. Something about him felt familiar, too, but I’d long ago given up on trying to kindle those types of feelings. They just left me frustrated.
And I’d found that when I grew frustrated, I wasted energy killing everything in sight before I moved on to the next Door.
He offered two items to me, both incredibly powerful. But they had figurative chains attached, and I didn’t like chains, even figurative ones.
A Silver Door shimmered into existence behind him and I let out an impatient sigh, turning back to his proffered ‘gifts.’
I finally climbed to my feet. “I’ll find another merchant,” I told him, kicking the snow from my boots.
He studied me in silence. “I’m not selling anything, Cal—”
“Everyone is selling something,” I snarled hurriedly—feeling angrier than the situation warranted. I didn’t know why.
His twin flames for eyes acknowledged my reaction without even a flicker, despite the screaming wind. “Let me know when you change your mind,” he said in a tired voice. “When you remember who you are.”
Something tried to hold me back, to tear off that Mask and see what tortured soul hid beneath, what cocky bastard dared challenge me with such a simple statement, but I wisely forced myself towards the Door and stepped through before I gave any serious thought to killing him for the comment.
I wasn’t sure who would have won anyway. He was incredibly powerful—a wild, chaotic man lurking beneath a calm façade and a Mask. He looked like the type of person to dance at the end of the world.
We likely both would have died in a confrontation.
And that wouldn’t have helped me complete my checklist.
But for some strange reason, as I palmed my silver butterfly charm, I imagined kissing him…
Chapter 35
I stared dubiously up at the tiny, talking, mushroom-munching bear perched on the boulder atop the hill ahead of me.
“I fail to see how letting you see my breasts will help me kill Samael,” I repeated, scanning the peaceful clearing for a Silver Door, growing agitated.
He giggled, tossing another mushroom up into the air and catching it in his mouth. Then he leaned back onto his boulder and closed his eyes with a contented grumble. “What if I said I was a breast whisperer?” he asked, cocking one eye open to peer down at me, gauging my reaction with a strange look on his muzzle. Was he…smiling?
“I’d have a new bear rug to make, Starlight,” I growled. I frowned at the last word, not knowing where I had pulled it from or why I had called him that.
His eyes flashed to mine and he opened his mouth, his tongue hanging free as he nodded. “You do remember some things…” he mused, scratching a paw at his grey-flecked muzzle. “Looks like I get to show you some pretty twisted shit. Oh, and I don’t need to see your breasts. Been there, done that,” he added, chuckling.
I glared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” I snarled. “You most certainly have not seen—”
He flung up a paw and an orb of smoking, golden light abruptly struck me in the face, bathing me with heat. The forest clearing around us suddenly disappeared and I saw a vision of me in a sweat lodge, completely naked, with this exact bear guiding me through some form of meditation. And he most definitely saw my breasts.
Then the vision was gone so fast that I stumbled as I found myself still standing in the clearing. The bear hadn’t moved, and the glowing orb hadn’t actually harmed me in any way. I stared him in the eyes, not understanding the vision or how I had forgotten such a bizarre event, and definitely not approving of him throwing a ball of light at me.
But what really bothered me was that I apparently knew this talking bear.
He snorted. “Told you. Been there, done that.” He suddenly rolled off the boulder, hit the ground with a grunt, and then continued rolling towards me down a small hill covered in flowers. “Weee…” he sang, giggling until he came to a stop a pace from my boots, flowers stuck in his fur, but he sat upright with a serious expression as he met my eyes. “Now, do you want me to show you some stuff that you don’t want to see, or some stuff that you do want to see?”
I hesitated, recalling my priorities—to kill Samael. “Stuff that I do want to see,” I said, giving the obvious answer.
“That’s a really good choice, but I’m going to show you both anyway.”
I folded my arms. “Not likely.”
“First,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken, “you’re going to want to take off your new weapons. For your benefit, not mine. They’ll mess with the visions—and probably your sanity.”
“That’s it. I’m going to go find the next Door,” I told him, checking the trees behind him. Sadly, I saw no Doors, just endless thick woods.
He sighed patiently, leaning back on his paws. “Like a good little Catholic, you are scared of Relevations.”
“I think you mean Revelations,” I said, not understanding the reference, but knowing he had misspoken the word.
The bear shook his head. “No. Relevant Revelations. Relevations,” he explained. “Those truths that are uncomfortable. The ones inside your own walls—the assassins in the shadows of your own castle. Heard it in a movie, so it must be true.” Then he began laughing.
I didn’t know what a movie was, but his explanation was bafflingly sane somehow, so I finally shrugged, still not seeing any Doors to take me away from this place. The damned bear must have something I could use against Samael—even if he was overdosing on his mushrooms.
“And you will not touch my things?” I asked.
He held up a paw in a solemn oath. “As a rule, I don’t like things. Just experiences. I will not touch them, and I will keep them safe for you until you return.”
I appraised him warily but saw no cause for concern. He was trustworthy. I simply knew it like one knows water is wet. And his warning to take off anything that might interfere with the visions he was about to show me made sense. I didn’t want to overreact while holding onto a deadly weapon.
I took off my hooded cloak of living crystal flame and laid it out on the grass like a blanket, murmuring soothingly to it. The crystal flame listened, reforming into a smooth, comfortable spot for me to rest upon.
Then I stabbed Cain’s dagger into the earth.
I slipped off the obsidian halo from my head, ignoring it’s incessant whining. I still wasn’t entirely sure about that acquisition, what with all the baggage it seemed to carry along with it. Even if it could let me see a God with my own naked eyes.
I set it on the grass, suspiciously close to Cain’s dagger, smiling as the whining instantly ceased in fear.
I took off my curled jade earrings and touched them together, surprised at how silent the world now felt—since I was no longer able to hear the thoughts of every living thing. The trees had been louder than I had realized, their gentle humming song like a soothing mantra.
I pulled off the ring of pure white light from my right thumb, and then six other rings that were harder to explain, let alone understand. I knew only how to use them as weapons and hadn’t bothered listening to the previous owner explain their other abilities. I shook the pile of rings in my palm, closed my eyes, and blew a faint breath over them. When I opened my eyes, they were gone. Just like the previous owner had told me.
Most of the other weapons I ha
d acquired were unseen—merely in my mind—and impossible to remove. Power. Magic. Spells. Understanding. Stories. Manling Tales. Fairy Tales.
Truths.
I stared down at the bear and nodded my head that I was ready.
“You probably want to sit down…” he suggested.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Cool,” he said. Then he leapt up faster than I had expected and slapped me on the forehead with the pad of his paw, knocking me down into the grass.
Instead of hitting the grass, I splashed into what felt like a pool. Then the clearing—and the bear—winked out of existence, leaving me in a void of nothingness. I stared down at my body and was startled to discover that I didn’t actually have one. I was just…part of the Nothingness. A sentient, voiceless, bodiless void. But I could still recall my purpose.
Kill Samael.
The void shook wildly, and then morphed into a scene that felt somehow familiar.
A strong, older man in a leather coat knelt before a Cross made of red-hot coals. His hands were covered in blood, and his entire body flickered with crimson fire as he struggled to hold the Cross together. He was laughing and crying, tears of blood streaming down his cheeks.
Someone else was laughing and crying as well, a matching harmony to his, but it came from everywhere and nowhere, and felt like it was fighting to stop the man and his Cross.
The image rippled like a reflection in a pond and was replaced by another.
Two puppies chasing each other playfully through puddles of blood—jumping, splashing, and barking as their tails wagged back and forth, flinging blood everywhere.
Ripple.
A beautiful Sphinx telling herself riddles in a silver mirror—somehow giving wrong answers but not wrong answers.
Ripple.
A wooden Cross Pattée cracking and splintering as the hands of time destroyed it—but new shoots of green leaves grew from within those dead cracks.
Ripple.
Four Masked figures on giant, four-legged beasts confronted each other, their mouths opening as they conversed, but all that could be heard were the cries of the damned and the horns of war.
Ripple.
A never-ending explosion on a field of black that seemed to rip my mind into pieces but was also comforting.
Ripple.
A dog-fighting pit with silhouettes of giant ephemeral and elemental beings placing bets from high above. Four adult dogs hoarded human bones in one corner while four puppies squared off against them, snarling, yapping, and stumbling over their own disproportionately massive paws. But they were growing rapidly, and the adult dogs bared their teeth with seeming alarm.
Ripple. Another vision. Ripple. Another vision.
Again and again and again…
With no other choice, I rode the winds of chaos, watching the never-ending explosion of visions—watched as the ripples grew more violent and far-reaching.
Chapter 36
I came back to with a groan, shivering from the experience. One vision especially stuck in my mind, waking my body up like an electric shock.
Samael waiting for me on the roof of a building. But something else waited for me on the roof of the building as well. Something I had once wanted but couldn’t quite recall.
On that rooftop was a choice.
I looked around for the bear, ready to demand an explanation—for him to elaborate on the visions. Were they real? Possibilities? Warnings?
But the little mushroom-muncher had left.
True to his word, my weapons and jewelry were exactly where I had left them. I began putting them on absently, recalling the visions and trying to make sense of them, wondering if any of them were immediately relevant. According to the bear, they had all been relevant revelations.
“Relevations,” I muttered, setting the black halo on my head. My last item. My eyes latched onto a bent katana in the grass. Perhaps not my last item. But it was a broken blade. And I already had one broken blade.
I pulled the broken Spear out of my body with a familiar gesture, wincing anew—like I did every time—to see it still damaged. Perhaps a broken blade had its uses. Maybe two wrongs could make a right…
I scooped up the katana and stared at it intently, listening. I smiled as it finally greeted me, and then I asked it a question. It practically vibrated with joy—to hear it still had a purpose.
The katana abruptly melted to liquid, splashing the metal all over my hands. I smiled down at it, focusing on it, listening to it, telling it what I needed it to do. It responded instantly, forming into a hovering ball of chrome above my palm.
Then I called upon my old friend, the Silver magic.
The two merged together like love at first sight, growing stronger for it.
Then I glanced down at my broken white Spear and sang a song in a language lost to mankind lifetimes ago.
The silver sphere struck the white wood of the spear and began to glow. I sang louder, sweat dripping from my brow as I fused the silver into the wood, healing it. Why hadn’t I thought to do this before?
After an eternity, it was finished. I realized I was kneeling on the ground, gasping. And I held a silver spear in my hand—still as light as the original, but harder than steel.
The Spear was fixed. Forged anew. That hadn’t been too difficult.
Now I had something to fight Samael with until I got close enough to use Cain’s dagger to carve out his living heart.
I had a bit of Silver left over from the Spear’s re-forging, so I flung it at a nearby rock, cursing the tiny bear. But I was also grateful because his visions had shown me where to go.
The excess silver splashed into the rock, creating a Door, but something seemed to be fighting it. I set my shoulders, gripped my Spear, and pulled the last ring from my pocket. The Silver Seal gleamed too brightly. Nevertheless, I set it around my finger and pointed at the hesitant Door, willing it to obey me and serve me.
Because I was a Goddess who demanded respect.
It finally formed into a Door and I nodded stiffly. Why hadn’t I used the Silver Seal before? I hadn’t needed to wait for Doors to appear on their own, I could have just made my own. I had amassed so many trinkets that I couldn’t even recall where I had picked this one up.
I realized my pulse was quickening as I wrapped myself in power, arming myself to destroy Samael before he had a chance at banter. He would only say one thing before he died.
Please.
I took a calming breath and stepped through the Silver Door.
Chapter 37
I stepped out onto the roof of an abandoned building in an abandoned city. The same rooftop I remembered from my vision, but Samael was nowhere in sight. Instead, two knights stood with their backs to me—one wearing gold armor and the other wearing silver armor. They were both tall, heavily-muscled men. The golden knight looked to be twice my size, but the silver knight made his fellow look like a gangly teen wearing his father’s armor.
Or…they were both actually tiny, highly-insecure men wearing a lot of metal padding.
I had a feeling that I would find out soon enough—the easy way or the hard way.
They were patiently and silently watching a Silver Door before them and seemed to not have noticed my arrival. The sunset sky was a smear of purples and greens like an epic storm was in process, but the air was still and dead. I saw lightning off in the distance but heard no thunder.
The air smelled pleasant—making me smile. Like fresh fruit in a lush garden.
I studied the two men warily, wondering if I should kill them now or wait a few moments. Their armor was ornate and imposing, seemingly designed more for court balls rather than fields of battle. But that could be a calculated deception. Like the jewelry I wore—superficially trite and pretty—their armor could actually be equally dangerous items of power.
Something about them seemed familiar, like I had seen them somewhere before, but I didn’t remember them from my visions, and definitely hadn’t m
et any knights in my travels through the Doors.
They continued to stare at the Door with infinite patience. Who were they expecting? Samael? I cleared my throat, thumping the re-forged Spear of Destiny into the floor at my feet. They spun quickly at the noise, but their armor was as silent as silk on silk, proving my earlier thought. No plate armor was that quiet. I had to fight the look of surprise on my own face, marveling at the beauty of the armor. From the front, it was even more impressive.
Their armor wasn’t just rich and well designed. They were pieces of art.
The golden knight’s pauldrons had been designed to look like a thick, open book resting atop either shoulder. Braided vines held the books in place like restraining bookmarks, stretching on down his strong arms to transform into thicker, older vines. Hundreds of golden leaves grew from the vines, covering his arm in protective, precious-metal foliage all the way to his impressive gauntlets—each big enough to crush my skull with a clenched fist. The gauntlets were segmented and chitinous, making me think of a beetle burrowing near the roots of the vines growing up his arm, but each knuckle was encrusted with a single brilliant emerald.
Enochian script—the language of the Angels—was etched into the entire surface of each gauntlet, and they were both entirely different. For the first time, I felt a shiver of fear, knowing that placing so many runes beside each other should have resulted in nullifying the other runes.
Or they could have produced a blast of destruction that ended the world.
Imagine the moment God realized it had been a bad idea to order Indian curry for takeout.
And that God’s green Earth was His Pearly Potty.
I frowned, momentarily startled at the strange thought. Where had it come from? I shook it off as something to do with this strange place and its thunder-less lightning.
Since we were all still breathing, I decided the knight must know a thing or two about runes.
The golden breastplate was one solid piece and portrayed a king with his hands raised in victory. A beautiful palace loomed behind him, but rather than looking designed for defense and war, it looked more like a place of worship and peace. Maybe a temple, then, not a palace.
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