Anji’s hands were still shaking. It had been a few days now since he’d met this man who had asked him if he knew what an Oath was.

  He looked down at his hands, seeing them even in the darkness of the night. They stared back at him, trembling things beyond his control. He wrapped one in the other, then vice versa. The trembling didn’t stop.

  You are not scared, he told himself. You’ve seen a lot of things since working with Ariadne. You are strong.

  His stomach roiled. He felt the steady need to throw up. He did not. Instead, he stuffed the urge down and reminded himself that he was doing this for a good cause. In the beginning, he had been doing this because Naymond had asked it of him. Now, however, he had gotten to see just exactly the type of person Ariadne was, and it had repulsed him.

  He couldn’t believe he had tried to fight Melmarc to protect her.

  In her defense, a passerby could claim that the evil he saw her do was due to her desire for vengeance, a need to make Melmarc pay. But it was not justification enough.

  Maybe I’m being too tough on her, he told himself, standing under a lamplight that wasn’t working. Ariadne was not the nicest person, and he could say for a fact that she had no shred of good in her. But did that truly make her evil?

  In the distance, Ariadne stood with the mystery man who called himself Cilian. They didn’t look like they were talking about anything of importance. Normally, Anji would’ve liked to weasel his way into the conversation through any means necessary. But this was different.

  He didn’t like the way the guy looked. There was something precise about his gaze. The man looked at Anji as if he was a potential meal and Ariadne as if she was a meal that he didn’t like. In the end, he looked at them like meals.

  Considering he killed a man with a touch, maybe we are nothing but meals to him.

  The thought made Anji’s hands tremble some more so that he slipped them into his pants pockets. Coincidentally, his phone vibrated in his pocket at the same time.

  He pulled it out and his countenance fell a little. Nathaniel had sent him a message talking about how he hadn’t been home for two days now.

  Anji had been hoping for Naymond. After his last message about Oaths, Naymond had sent nothing in response. He hadn’t even answered, and Anji had a feeling that Naymond knew exactly what an Oath was. There was scarcely anything that Naymond did not know.

  He scrolled over to his messages with Naymond, glad that his hand wasn’t shaking as much. The last message there was a message from before his fight with Melmarc. He had been sure to delete any conversation they had from his phone.

  “Oi!”

  Anji raised his head from his phone, closing the message app and returning the phone to his pocket. He found Ariadne approaching him.

  She gave him a curious look. Anji saw a touch of worry in her eyes.

  “You doing okay, big guy?” she asked him, coming to stop in front of him.

  Anji let his frown stain his lips. He wasn’t big, not until he used his skill, but she liked to call him that because of the skill.

  “The fuck you frowning at me for?” Ariadne snapped.

  Anji looked away. “I’m doing okay. I’m good.”

  “You sure?” She leaned to the side so that she could look at him. “Because you’ve been kind of fidgety all day.”

  “I’m fine,” Anji replied. It almost came out as a grumble.

  Ariadne said nothing for a moment.

  “You want to chicken out?” she teased.

  Anji looked at her, saw her smile. He couldn’t say he had ever liked her. In fact, he could say that he’d hated her from the first day they’d met.

  “Yes,” he deadpanned.

  Ariadne blinked. “You’re joking, right?”

  Anji took a deep breath and let it out. He hoped it would calm him, but it did not. So, he did it again, took another calming breath that did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

  “What’s an Oath?” he blurted out.

  Ariadne shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I just know that they are powerful motherfuckers.”

  “Powerful enough to kill someone with a touch?”

  “Apparently.” Ariadne frowned. “Are you really trying to chicken out on me, kid? Are you scared?”

  “I’m terrified!” Anji hissed. “That guy could probably be hearing our conversation right now and he can kill a dude by just touching him.”

  “Relax,” she said in a calming tone. “He’s not going to kill you.”

  Anji stepped up to her. They were almost the same height. “And how do you know that?”

  “Because he has a three man job that properly aligns with the both of us.” She shot him a grin. “As long as you stay on point and do as you’re supposed to, you’ll be fine. He’s not some maniac running around killing people.”

  Anji scoffed. “He killed that guy because the man looked at him the wrong way.”

  “He killed him because he was selling fake drugs,” Ariadne argued. “Do you know what that stuff can do to a person?”

  Do you know what the real stuff can do to people?

  The thought came to Anji’s mind but he let it die unsaid. Instead, he sighed, took his hands out of his pockets and blew into them. His hands weren’t cold, and neither was he.

  “Any idea what the job is?” he asked. “You said it coincides with what we want.”

  “She said it aligns with the both of you,” a voice said from his back. “Not coincides.”

  Anji leapt forward, startled. He let out a very childlike yelp before placing his hand to his chest to calm his racing heart.

  How the hell did he get behind me? He wondered, staring at Cilian. Just a blink ago the man had been far away standing where Ariadne had left him.

  When Anji said nothing, Cilian sighed and looked at Ariadne with a tired expression.

  “I hate working with kids,” he said, still standing right behind Anji. “They are always so jittery and bothered.”

  Ariadne was quick to answer. “He’s kind of new to this. Usually he’s strong and useful. Seeing how powerful you are kind of spooked him.”

  “Is that true, kid?” Cilian looked at Anji. “Does my power scare you?”

  Anji gulped.

  Cilian saw it and nodded. “Good. Because it should.” He returned his attention to Anji. “I have decided to follow the same path that you are following. If I’m getting this correctly, you are trying to get out of town but there’s someone connected that’s keeping you locked in so you’re smuggling yourself out?”

  Ariadne nodded. “Yes.”

  “And if I am willing, you want me to join you on this your quest for…” he waved a hand about as if looking for the word. “Revenge?”

  Ariadne nodded. “The person I’m chasing is strong, but you don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

  Cilian was silent for a moment. He watched her, contemplating. Anji worried that he was contemplating whether to keep them alive or not, and not whether he wanted to help or not.

  “Obviously,” Cilian said in the end. “Do you have a smuggle route?”

  “I’ve got a guy and everything,” Ariadne answered with some excitement. “We can be gone by tonight.”

  Cilian stroked his jaw. “Perhaps that place will be more fun than this until we achieve your revenge. The Oaths will not like it, but they’ve always been pussies in their own way. It is decided, our paths cross so it must be fate, and a [Seer] class pointed me in this direction recently. So, why not?”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Anji looked from Cilian to Ariadne in confusion. “Where are we going?”

  “The land flowing with sour milk and stolen oppressive honey, Anji,” Ariadne said with a scowl.”

  Please no.

  They couldn’t be going there, not right now. He couldn’t see himself going this far. He had agreed with Naymond’s instruction only because he had thought that he would just have to deal with regular exaggerated Ariadne temper tantrums. This was something different.

  “Where,” he began, even though he already knew the answer, “are we going?”

  “Tatelat.”

  Cilian chuckled. “Oh, the Oaths are going to love this.”

  Anji held his tongue. The man was talking about Oaths again, rousing his curiosity. And Naymond was doing nothing to satisfy said curiosity. His feelings must’ve shown on his face because Ariadne started shaking her head at him discreetly.

  No, she mouthed.

  But Anji was not following her lead, he was following Naymond’s. And Mr. Hitchcock was not present to direct him.

  “Oaths,” he said in a quiet voice, drawing Cilian’s attention.

  “Yes, boy. Oaths,” Cilian said.

  “Oaths are vows.”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  Anji paused. Spurred by the man’s inclination to indulge him, he pressed forward. “If in a manner of speaking, then what exactly are they?”

  “Oaths are promises,” Cilian was more than happy to say.

  It gave Anji more courage. “And you’re an Oath.”

  “I am.”

  Anji had suspected. The man spoke of Oaths as if they were enemies, but he also seemed to speak of them like a boy would speak of a brother he did not like. Or a brother he thinks is too stuck up.

  “If you are an Oath, and Oaths are promises, then what’s your promise?”

  Cilian smiled something eerily gentle, and he leaned into the boy when he answered.

  “Greed.”

  …

  That’s a lot of mana particles for an SS rank, Dorthna mused, watching Aurora storm her way to him.

  With a reluctant sigh, he picked up the remote and turned it to the television. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t learning anything from the show he was watching. It was next to impossible to learn nothing when watching the creation of other gods.

  Still, there was a time for everything.

  Aurora was barely six feet away from him when he turned the television off and turned his attention to her. She stood with heaving shoulders. He could see the rage in her eyes. The mana particles fought to cling to her, only barely managing to stay attached. Each particle stuck only to fall off. They wanted her, needed her, sadly, she did not have what was required to make them stay.

  To think she once believed that her Oath is gone.

  Dorthna did his best not to snicker or laugh. No matter how amusing humans were, this was not the time for him to be amused.

  Outside, well beyond the house, the world had fallen to relative slumber. It was night, the sky a pitch black, illuminated only by the lights of bulbs born from science or the harmony of science and magic.

  Dorthna looked at Aurora, knowing what had incited her ire. Still, he spoke before she could pull the words together.

  With crossed legs, he said, “I’m listening.”

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  Dorthna shook his head. “Wrong question.”

  He watched her nostrils flare. She was like a wild animal doing her best not to attack a creature she knew was beyond her.

  Since knowing her, Dorthna had always been very aware of how easily she could lose herself when Madness was the bone of content.

  “Try again,” he told her, meaning it.

  Aurora took in a deep breath as more mana particles clinging to her slid off. Dorthna noticed it with a touch of disappointment.

  Now that won’t do.

  “I,” she started afresh, calmer, “can not find my husband.”

  “Do you have any leads?” he asked.

  Aurora shook her head. Dorthna didn’t have to be an Oath of Madness or an [August Intruder] to feel the dissonance.

  “Tell me, then,” he said, unbothered. “What do you know so far?”

  Aurora frowned as if realizing that he was patronizing her. Like a parent guiding a child to an obvious answer.

  “I know that he’s derailed three Gifted gangs already,” she said, piecing things together in her head. “Gangs that I was not aware of.”

  “Gangs not on the police radar, too,” Dorthna supplied.

  Aurora nodded. “Gangs that he shouldn’t know about.”

  “Which has led you to think what?” Dorthna pressed. “That I have sent him out to do my bidding.”

  “This is not the time to be coy!” she snapped at him. “It is not.”

  “So not my bidding.” Dorthna stroked his jaw sagely.

  Aurora took a threatening step closer to him. “You and I both know that you can make anyone do your bidding without them having the slightest idea of what they have done.”

  “I am not a fan of mental manipulation.”

  “You know what I mean,” she hissed.

  He did. Not every advanced feat was attributed to magic. There existed people so knowledgeable and wise that they could manipulate anyone with words and actions only. He could certainly get people to move without their very own knowledge. He didn’t even need lies, just strategically placed pieces of truths and half-truths.

  “I did not send Madness to do anything, willingly or unwillingly.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Does that satisfy you?”

  Aurora’s jaw clenched. Her anger flared slightly and Dorthna watched the mana particles cling back to her. Each one, black with distorted hues popped seemingly out of nowhere and reached for her. Everything was mana, tangible and intangible. The Oath of War was a being that mana particles best associated with the emotions related to War loved.

  They reached for War because War understood them in a way that even those who created them did not.

  Reach for it, Dorthna thought, watching the mana particles and Aurora’s rage.

  “Dorthna,” she said, practically biting the words out.

  “Careful,” he warned. “I am not your enemy for a reason. Do not take the reason away.”

  Aurora paused, scowled. “Do you think I am not willing to die for my family?”

  “Are you really this angry because you can’t find your husband?” he asked, curious.

  “YOU LET HIM LOOSE ON THE WORLD!” she roared.

  “He let himself loose on the world,” Dorthna corrected her. “Madness saw something and decided to act. I didn’t play a part.”

  “But you told him something.”

  “He asked a few questions, and I answered.”

  That caught Aurora’s attention. Dorthna saw it when he had her. Madness rarely went out of his way to ask Dorthna questions.

  Maybe now she would change her approach on how to find her husband, not that he wanted her to find success.

  “Alright then.” Dorthna got up. “Maybe I should call it a night.”

  He moved to the side, started to leave.

  One step in, the world seemed to slow around him. Dorthna closed his eyes for a moment. He took that moment to remember that he was still here for the one that gave him hope. Nothing else. And that required him to put up with certain things.

  He turned just in time, opening his eyes to look at Aurora. He saw the anger blaze. He watched the particles of mana cling to her, they tightened like children to their mother. Dorthna fought back the smile as events continued to evolve.

  Aurora’s shoulder moved, her feet twitched. Everything happened just before she burst into motion. She was almost a perfected fighter, a weapon. In his eyes, she was a child, she might as well have been moving to his scripted choreography.

  Her hands shot out. She grabbed him by the shirt and drove him into the nearest wall.

  Calm yourself, Dorthna thought. Adults do not take children seriously when they are overwhelmed by their emotions.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Aurora asked, her voice trembling. Dorthna couldn’t say if it was from rage or fear. “What has my husband done wrong?”

  Dorthna barely paid attention to her words, only to the mana particles holding on for dear life.

  Yes, he thought.

  The rage was good. There was anger in war. Violence, too. If she could just…

  Aurora stared at him in shock, as if she could not believe she had actually succeeded in doing what she had just done. She had expected some level of failure. Dorthna could not blame her. She was supposed to have failed. He had allowed her success because there were things greater than her in play.

  An [August Intruder] needed his Oaths. How the Oaths had not pieced the Oaths that were most important was beyond him, actually.

  There was an impending apocalypse with the coming of the [August Intruder]. All the Oaths knew this. They also knew that such an apocalypse would require a lot of fighting, they just didn’t know how it would happen.

  Well, he did. Dorthna knew.

  When a potential involved a lot of fighting on a world scale, there were only a handful of Oaths that were truly necessary. Madness, for the insanity that came with such things. Inevitability to see where the end was—if there was actually a light at the end of the tunnel or not. Then Pain,, because it always came hand in hand with life.

  Dorthna looked into Aurora’s eyes.

  Then War.

  Because what is a war without War.

  In Aurora’s confusion, the mana particles began slipping away from her once more. Dorthna watched them with some level of displeasure. Every time she reached the precipice, all she had to do was reach out and touch it. Melmarc could reignite her Oath, but personally, thought that was [EP] better spent on growing himself.

  “I guess that’s enough of that,” he muttered with a sigh.

  Aurora’s grip on him tightened, she pinned him to the wall, putting her weight into it. He felt her try to call up whatever rage she had lost in her surprise, but the mana had abandoned her. Her new rage was too conscious, forced. False.

  He moved his hand and tapped her on the shoulder. The action sent her flying across the living room, and she slammed right into the wall. Enchantments and spells lit up, protecting the wall from coming down or even cracking as the former Oath of War hit the ground.

  While she gasped for air, pulling herself up from the ground, Dorthna just watched. His displeasure could simply turn to ire if he let it. He did not.

  “Do you know why you humans like to attribute certain things to madness?” he asked, the question rhetorical. “If you love too much, it is madness. If you hate too much, it is madness. If you war too much, it is madness.”

  He walked up to her, now, his steps slow. Aurora froze halfway up from the ground, stuck on one knee.

  Dorthna stopped before her, towered over her.

  “Madness is dissonance, chaos even,” he said, allowing seriousness spill into his voice. “Madness is also an irrational response to a rational situation. There is a reason he is the strongest of you all.”

  Aurora held her breath. Dorthna watched her prepare herself as if she could stand against him for even a second if he did not want her to.

  This world was small, too small. An Oath thinking that rage or determination born from something as fickle as familial love could make them stand against him was pathetic.

  Dorthna turned away from her, made his way to the door.

  “The apocalypse is coming, War,” he said as he walked. “It is not the end of the world. It is the potential end of sentience because with or without you, the world will continue to go on. Your son will not fight against it, not to save the world, but to save those that matter to him. For that, he will need his Oaths. He will need Madness.”

  He paused at the door, opened it to the night’s air and looked back. “And he will need War.”

  The Oaths associated with violence existed to save the world. The apocalypse would not be won with kindness. The [August Intruder] wielded these Oaths to be reminded that humans were, at their core, nothing but savage beasts. The other Oaths—Grace, Love, Joy—they existed for something else.

  They reminded the [August Intruder] that being human was what made them rise above the animals. It reminded them to be humane. He would need them when the apocalypse ended. If there was still a human race to lead.

  “How do I find Madness, Dorthna?” Aurora asked from where she remained frozen.

  Dorthna kept his eyes on her. Her words were different this time. In the beginning, she had demanded. Now she was pleading.

  Perhaps he did have an answer for her, after all.

  “Follow the dissonance.”

  With that, he stepped out into the night, leaving her behind him.

  Dorthna walked out of a home and onto a tarred road, an interesting pathway. To his embarrassment, he had noticed it when he had finally gotten his mastery to rise from the two strands of Melmarc’s hair. He had noticed an anomaly on this world.

  Since Aurora had spoiled his evening, he had decided to take a better look at this anomaly hidden in the basement of a powerful establishment.

  Standing in the middle of the pathway, he turned, set his eyes on the buildings around him and their unreasonable design.

  So, he thought to himself, this is Fallen High.