Without a second thought, Nushka sent a whip of her dark magic slicing through Archè’s arm, unbinding her handmaiden. Mouth gaping, Archè gasped in pain as wide eyed, and Aria screamed in hysterics. Limb and weapon fell to the ground with a clang, blood spraying everywhere.
Heaving sobs escaped the Queen as Archè grasped the gushing stub with his other hand, trying desperately to apply pressure and stem the flow of blood. Each moan of agony that escaped the King’s lips electrified Nushka, as his blood continued to gush from the wound despite his efforts to staunch the bleeding. If he didn’t see a healer soon, he would bleed out.
“Shall I pull up a chair and allow your painful death to play out naturally? It wouldn’t take long I suppose... I could spare a little more time, it would be a sight to behold…” she taunted.
Sheer horror flared in the eyes of her parents.
The King and Queen begged for mercy; their hysterics were likely heard from the banquet hall above. Archè would have offered Nushka the sun in that moment if he could have, just to spare his miserable life.
Their pointless cries for forgiveness fell on deaf ears.
Agnes dove out of the way just in time, and in one smooth sweep of the Goddess’s razor-sharp sword, blood rained as Archè’s head, then body, fell to the ground.
The King of the Gods was dead.
*
Epilogue
The Goddess of Darkness
Battle weary and numb, long after the fighting had ended, Lilith lounged upon her father’s former throne, her slender legs dangling over the chair arm. The Goddess of Darkness’s shadows oozed off her like the calm after a storm, now their bloodlust was soothed. Her tattered gown was blood-soaked, and with a lazy flick of her wrist she replaced it with her signature sleek, ebony silk gown. She would never stoop to wearing pants, regardless of the setting or their practicality.
The remaining living Deities were detained at the far side of the room by the few uninjured wendigast, overseen by Hyacinth and Ilbis. Lilith still did not trust either of them, even after all they had done for Nushka’s cause. Ilbis gave Lilith a smug taunting look, which twisted her stomach in disgust.
The peuchen stood like imposing statues, stationed around the balconies in case any captured immortals decided to tempt fate. The trampled bodies coating the floor would likely be enough of a deterrent on their own, even without the presence of the creatures’ barbed tails and sharp, poisonous fangs. Lilith was considering asking Nushka to gift her one of the snake dragons as a pet.
The Goddess of Darkness imagined a youngling dragon serpent curled at the foot of her throne of bone would be an imposing sight for any wicked souls entering her domain. She smiled briefly at the thought, then cursed herself for thinking of the Hall of Shadows with more fondness than it deserved.
‘It was a cage, nothing more,’ Lilith tutted to herself. ‘Though I will be keeping my throne regardless of what the future holds. Perhaps the souls encased within will appreciate the change of scenery…’
The remainder of Nushka’s army had returned through a portal opened by Lilith, back to The Pitts where they would rest and make camp. Many of the chimera had pulled the bodies of friend and foe alike back through the portal with them, presumably to feast upon. Any respect Lilith had felt towards the creatures who fought so valiantly by her side was now replaced with disgust.
The Goddess’s heart filled with anger, hatred, and now disgust. For a Goddess who had felt extraordinarily little for eons, the rush of emotions over the past couple of days was wholly unsettling to her.
Lilith had killed more of her own people than she dared to recall tonight. The thought did not sit well with her. Her lips curved into a frown.
‘I was never fond of the idea of killing my own kin. I had wanted them to pay for what they had done, but I had never wanted them dead. When had that changed?’
The Goddess of Blood and Bone finally deigned to return to the banquet hall, her face alight with feral glee. It was the first time Lilith had seen her sister since the battle had commenced. Lost to bloodlust’s song, she had not searched for Thorn or Nushka until the battle was won.
Now her sister swaggered into the hall with Archè’s head in one hand, dragging their mother by a leash of shadow magic with the other. Bile burned Lilith’s throat, her stomach roiling at the sight of her father’s head. Her heart dropped into her stomach as her sister winked, drunk on her victory.
Beside Nushka, the former Queen of the Gods had been stripped to her undergarments, as if the humiliation of being leashed and the grief of losing her husband were not enough. The sight of Nushka, of what was left of her father and mother, was the first nail in Ilbis’s mind control coffin.
Potent feelings of anguish battled against feelings of hate, causing fractures in Ilbis’s handiwork. With her mind suddenly a little clearer, Lilith fully comprehended the injustice that had been done to her.
Lilith shot to her feet, gazing furiously at Ilbis, who stood smugly looking up at her. Fury bellowed within at how far Nushka had gone to control her. Blood boiling, Lilith’s shadows now raged anew.
The Goddess of Blood and Bone declared herself Queen of the Gods that night, without any consideration towards her siblings. With her dark army at her beck and call, who could argue? Left with no other option, Thorn and Lilith fell into line behind their sister.
~
It had taken weeks for Lilith to break through each of the barriers of mind control Iblis had subjected her to. Little by little, she felt less a clone of her hate-filled sister, and more like herself. Her mental recovery was, in large thanks, due to Thorn, who acted as her moral compass, helping her see sense.
Her kind-hearted brother, who had beheld what Lilith had been transformed into during the battle, had known straight away that something had been done to her. If felt incredibly disconcerting to the Goddess of Darkness to have her gift of judgment so tainted. Lilith’s gift was an extension of herself and not being able to rely on its conviction and reassurance made her feel off balance.
In the months since Nushka had seized control of the Land of the Gods and all other realms, mortal and immortal alike, the universe had become a very dark and different place. There was no place for honesty, integrity, or virtue in Nushka’s new world. Morals were now distant, unfamiliar ideals. Weaknesses, Nushka had claimed, that held the Gods back from reaching their full potential. Whatever that meant. Nushka was all about reaching your full potential… if it aligned with her wishes.
The Goddess of Blood and Bone kept Aria chained to her like a pet, though she was treated with far more cruelty. Lilith had witnessed Nushka treat Zeri with more decency and respect than she paid their mother. Even going as far as serving Aria’s meals in a dog bowl on the floor and denying her the use of utensils. Her sister had even made the former Queen relieve herself on the floor in the formal dining room on more than one occasion, denying her the basic rights of toileting or bathing.
It was only when Nushka claimed she could no longer stand her mother’s stench that she allowed Aria to bath in stone-cold water. Nushka said she wanted the former Queen to have a taste of what life was like for the lowest of the low. She claimed it would be a humbling experience for her, an opportunity for personal growth. It made Lilith and Thorn sick to their stomachs, though they were powerless to help Aria. They could not risk Nushka’s wrath, not with the dark army lying in wait. Even two powerful Gods could not take on an army without aid.
Archè and Aria’s loyal followers and the remaining Deities that had survived the battle, including Chiara, were transported to The Pitts of Moor. There, Nushka’s followers delighted in subjecting the powerless Gods to all kinds of cruel torment. Ilbis had been placed in charge as temporary warden of The Pitts as a reward for his loyalty.
Lilith vowed she would not allow her kin to spend their eternity trapped there, not if she and Thorn had anything to do with it. Though her fellow Deities deserved punishment for standing aside while the siblings were so
sorely mistreated for all these years, they did not deserve the pain and torture that now filled their endless days. Nushka had gone too far.
The only realm that remained mostly untouched by Nushka’s wickedness was the Afterworld. Lilith and Thorn convinced their sister to gift them the realm as a reward for their assistance during the battle, and as a show of good faith in their alliance. Apparently Nushka had promised the Afterworld to her handmaiden, of all people, as part of the bargain for her assistance. As soon as Lilith pointed out the absurdity of the notion, Nushka quickly laughed off the thought and said she had never really meant to hold true to her promise anyway. She did however allow Agnes to ascend to the Afterworld and maintain her corporal form at her request. Lilith was eager to see how her reunion with her family played out.
To Lilith’s surprise, her brother had formed some sort of a connection to the soul in question, and more often than not she would spend the night in Thorn’s chambers. The relationship, perplexed Lilith, but she did not begrudge her brother his happiness.
Given that Thorn had done little to aid in Nushka’s cause, the Goddess of Blood and Bone had been reluctant to reward him. So, in namesake, the Afterworld was officially under Lilith’s dominion, with Thorn as her assistant of sorts. Thorn still retained his title as God of War, for now… It did not hold the same value as it did before.
Every week Lilith visited the Hall of Shadows and delved out judgements upon the awaiting souls. If she had not agreed to do so, Nushka would have sentenced each soul to Moor regardless of their worth and lived experience. Lilith didn’t mind doing it as it allowed her to use her gifting of discernment. It made her feel as though in this new Universe of Nushka’s regime, that she could still make a difference.
One night, Lilith and Thorn fled to the Hall of Shadows, shrouding themselves in a soundproof shield for good measure. Only alone would they make their feelings on Nushka’s reign crystal clear. Neither had meant for things to go this far. But Lilith, entrapped in Ilbis’s mind control had lost all ability to think for herself during the battle, and Thorn, without allies, had been forced to play along or face the same fate as the other immortals. With each passing day of Nushka’s rule, their situation became more dire.
“It is up to us to make things right,” Thorn stated.
“It is up to us,” Lilith agreed, “to fight back.”
The End.
*
A Shifter Reborn
A prequel short story of
The Immortal Deities
Nattie Kate Mason
Amongst the great wolf packs of Shadows Peak, the animal shifter hid. A beast of many forms, the shifter raged from town to town, stealing food and inciting fear. It gained joy from such things. The adrenaline rush, like a drug, was a craving that could never be satisfied. The shifter could not recall its parentage. For all they knew, they were the only one of their kind. They could not recall ever meeting another.
Unlike other shapeshifters, the shifter was not human, and it had never taken a human form. Its animalistic instincts were drawn to predatory beasts, and it usually morphed into a superior version of the natural species of which it imitated.
As the hunters moved between the shadows of the mountain pass, they assessed the pack seeking shelter in the mouth of a cave. As they sought out their prey, the shifter tried its best to appear unremarkable amongst the rest of the pack. Not that there was anything ordinary about the giant wolves that lived amongst the dangerous alpine peaks. To the untrained eye, the pack did not stand out, their white or grey coats blending into the mountainous terrain. But for the warriors of Shadows Peak, who knew the passes and the creatures that dwelled within, they would find the shifter soon or later. The shifter did not know if they sought to destroy it or tame it, but it considered neither an option.
As day turned to night, the Kingdom that was ordinarily shrouded in shadow transformed into a Kingdom of impenetrable darkness; moonlight being the only form of illumination for twenty or so miles. Fortunately for the shifter, it needed no light to guide its way as it crept out of the cave mouth, deeming it now safe to do so, and began the steep ascent through the pass under the cover of night. Unfortunately for the beast, the warriors of Shadows Peak did not need light to guide their way either, the shadows whispering to them of the goings-on in the world.
The wind howled through the pass as the wolf began the long trek towards the nearest town. Its stomach grumbled from hiding amongst the wolf pack for several days without food. It was hunger that made the wolf risk the trek this night. Icicles hung from its cloak of white fur, blending in with the freshly fallen snow, the wolf’s night vision guiding its way.
The faint smell of smoke was carried on the wind, likely from a burning hearth in one of the watch towers hidden amongst the jagged mountain peaks. The temptation to seek out one of the towers and steal its next meal grew more and more appealing as it continued trekking through the night, padding through the deep snow, mile by never-ending mile. But the shifter was not yet desperate enough to attempt stealing from those warriors who wished nothing more than to rid the mountains of the beast. The shifter would likely gain a stab wound or worse for its troubles, and despite the shifter’s unusually quick healing capabilities, it did not want to risk it.
The miles dragged on, the cold sapping its energy despite the thick coat the shifter bore. It found itself growing sloppy in its movements. Its breathing grew labored from the grueling travel and lack of sustenance, its temper rising in turn. It was times like these that the shifter considered growing wings and flying instead. However, the strong winds and billowing snow would make the flight too dangerous, especially at night. A bird could fly straight into a mountain peak if their vision were too obstructed by the relentless snow, or they would risk ice building upon their wings, weighing them down, making it difficult to fly at all. No, a bird was not an option in the current circumstances.
Scaling down a mountain, the shifter felt the ground and snow begin to tremble beneath its feet. The shifter had experienced the sensation only once before and knew trouble was coming. Abandoning all caution, the shifter began sprinting down the mountainside, trying to outrun the wave of snow it knew would be coming.
The ground grumbled now, shaking beneath the wolf’s paws as it ran for its life. The wolf risked a glance back up the mountainside, and right at the top he faintly saw them. A group of warriors using their magic to trigger the oncoming avalanche. Faster, faster the shifter sped, knowing it would not be long until the snow gave way and began its furious descent.
The snow at the mountain peak broke away, and a roar like a gushing wind echoed in the shifter’s ears as the snow began pummeling down the mountainside, the shifter in its path. Moments later the shifter lost its footing and the wave of snow crashed against its body, a weight that shattered bones upon impact. Under the wave of snow, it was washed away, darkness enveloping it as the shifter’s luck ran out and only death answered its call for help.
*
The shifter awoke on a dais of bones, black billowing smoke floating around it, trailing from the gown of a woman he did not know. A crown of bone perched upon her midnight-colored hair, which was akin to serpents writhing. Sharp claws descended from her fingers. The female’s emerald gaze pierced into the shifter’s very core, a wicked grin revealing brutal jagged teeth.
The shifter scrambled onto its paws, surprised to find it felt no pain. It was then that the shifter noticed it was floating above the surface, its limbs transparent as if it were… Dead.
A ghost. No, not a ghost… A bhoot.
“Welcome, my pet bhoot,” the Lady of Malice proclaimed. “I am Nushka, the Goddess of Blood and Bone. I am your master. Here in The Pitts. you will be more than you ever dreamed of. By my side, you will be free to reach your full, gloriously wicked potential. You will imitate creatures of nightmares. You will be feared, and you will be mine. Welcome to The Pitts of Moor. Welcome to eternity.”
With a click of the Goddess’s fi
ngers, the shifter-turned-bhoot returned to its corporal form, though it still floated on an invisible cloud above the surface. The bhoot roared in glorious wonder at the destiny they had landed upon from their unfortunate demise. The Goddess smiled wickedly in return, as if they were the answer to some unholy prayer for her as well.
*
The Rise of Hyacinth
A prequel short story of
The Immortal Deities
Nattie Kate Mason
Concealed deep within the forest of an insignificant mortal kingdom, the wendigast race danced and drank amongst the bonfires. Wine overflowing, the immortal race feasted upon the mortals sacrificed to them, in exchange for the nearby town’s safety during the dark gathering.
The wendigast preferred the taste of human hearts, the delicacy rejuvenating their strength and power. However, during the festivities they gorged on whatever they could find. Each clan leader dined on human hearts with their jagged teeth, tearing through flesh and muscle. Their subordinates fed on the leftovers.
Beltane marked the annual gathering of the half-witch, half-spirit race. With long gangly limbs, branch-like arms, cobweb-thin hair, and gaunt features, the immortals were the first of witch-kind to exist in the mortal realm. The magically gifted race was created from the darkest imaginings of The Goddess of Bone and Bone, who reigned over The Pitts of Moor, a place of refuge for the depraved immortals. It was a place of unending pain for wretched mortal souls, deemed unworthy of eternity in the Afterworld.
Hyacinth, the centuries-old daughter of the wendigast leader, Queen Thanatosia, sat perched upon a boulder with preternatural stillness. Blood stained her pursed lips, the lingering taste of fresh blood and a young mortal’s heart electrifying her senses and invigorating her powers. Hyacinth’s vibrant green eyes overlooked her soon-to-be subjects with a mix of contempt and smug satisfaction.
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