Biyu felt the power of the divine in the city. They were terrifying firestorms in a city in flames. Biyu's power had tripled over the course of the last few hours. Not all the souls they took from the demon were simple mortals. Some imps were animated by the souls of weak Awakened. With the power she now held, she could see more than she could before. Mana itself was visible to her without the aid of [Wizard Eye]. Using the technique, she could see Divinity. In the city before her were three sources of Divinity. Three gods.
The god of the Order of Holy Lances had seen and recognized her for what she was. Only the intervention of a Knight stayed his hand from smiting her and May. In the distance was the god of the College of Falling Skies. The third source of Divinity was the demon. She had not expected a creature so circumspect and careful, acting through mortal agents, to be a petty god in its own right. Her hackles were up even as she marched with the soldiers towards the gods at war.
Their forces and those of the College of Falling Skies surrounded the demon, denying it escape. Cornered, it spent its power creating a vast new horde. They were incomplete things, cobbled together in a rush to hold back the threat surrounding it. Some of the imps were mad, turning on their fellow imps and tearing them apart with tooth and claw. A few held their limbs out in surrender, trying to yell mangled words with twisted mouths. They, too, were slain.
May requested Biyu fall back, to provide support. Right now her blessings were her most effective weapon. The war continued, and May remained an ever present supporter of the front lines. Soldiers and Knights shouted their appreciation as she gusted past them. The god wreathed in a halo of light and lances saluted her.
Biyu spent the power she gained freely, throwing blessings to all who could use even the least advantage. She was approaching another Step, and her intuition told her advancing too quickly was bad.
Soldiers who flagged found their bodies refreshed. Debilitating wounds became strange feeling limbs that worked just as well. Those nearly slain by fatal wounds found their injuries closed and bodies returned to peak condition. The horde died, and Biyu turned the power they granted into blessings and construct flesh, keeping the soldier hale with prosthetics of magic.
The Knights watched in awe as common mortal soldiers shrugged off blows that would lay them low. As men who should have died from their wounds rose back hale and ready to return to the fight. The horde quailed as they were faced with men who refused to die; as they refused to be turned into fuel their god.
Even the ones that did die refused to be consumed. Instead, their eyes burned with white flames filled with righteous rage at the abominations that wreaked this havoc on their city. They passed on their 'blessing' to other dead, and the demon should be well aware by now that it was losing souls in droves. The wraiths, seeing their god standing back and blessing the living, copied her. They fell back, and gave up their spears and armor, the emblems of their power, and gifted them to the still living. With the power the dead relinquished, the common soldiers were swathed in ethereal mail and weapons that allowed them to stand on the same field as Knights and gods.
Morale broke among the imps, and the divine demon's scream from its hiding place rocked the city, collapsing buildings that had still stood amid the destruction. The fight between the divine began in earnest. The sky fell once more. Lances glowing with might shattered the ground where the demon hid. Biyu looked at the city she had grown fond of over the months she had been here, and said a lamentation for its people. It was a prayer and a poem to the gods for the people's succor.
The war of gods left Biyu and the soldiers behind. Even with her blessings, mortal soldiers did not belong in a battle between gods, and they knew it. The Knights sallied forth, but they were blessed by a god far more powerful than Biyu. She sent the soldiers she had 'healed' to be properly taken care of. She assured them they were dying, even if they felt fine. Biyu reinforced her blessings on them, bleeding off the power that threatened to advance her again. Her power continued to grow even though she and May had withdrawn.
The vengeful spirits had fought, but she knew they had spent the power themselves. They only turned over soldiers to her, entrusting her to keep them safe until she could send them east. Biyu spent her power however she could, unwilling to advance another Step if she could help it. She was concerned she had already taken a Step too many.
The soldiers who were merely injured worked to evacuate the last survivors of the imp incursion. Nobles were sent to the palace complex, where ancient formations etched into the walls of the hillock protected if from damage. Most of the population was led to the fortresses surrounding the city. From there they bore witness to a war of gods as their city was leveled. Homes, businesses, and livelihoods were turned to rubble under the power of falling stars, holy lances, and the enemy's crudely wielded blades. A creature of pure power and malevolence stood over the city, pricked with toothpick lances and smashed in the head with celestial fireballs. What so casually wiped away the city were toys to the old evil.
Biyu's power still grew. No, not just grew, but grew faster. Imps no longer walked the streets, and the soldiers had finally retired to defend the refugees with May at their lead. Biyu blessed all the people she could. She helped them deal with their fear and anxiety, made the sick a little more well, helped the healers to better be able to heal, and to drive away the winter chill. Despite her efforts, she was forced through the threshold of a Step. Then, another Step. There was too much power coming into her too quickly, and she could not spend it all. Not like this. Desperate, she made thralls. Holden stood as a man once more. She Ascended, and it hurt. She gave Motley Holden's body, so there were nine more of him standing as a tight-knit group. Another Step.
Her body broke. She stumbled and collapsed. Convulsions wracked her body, and she vomited. A healer rushed to aid her, but May interposed herself while shaking her head. May tried to Ascend herself and relieve Biyu of some of her power. It was not enough. The healer recoiled as Biyu released an aura of poison that inflamed the skin and blinded the eyes. People backed off, giving her as much space as they could. Biyu pulled at her aura, forcing it under control as best she could. Her mana pool tore, and as it did pain filled her. Her aura banked as mana escaped her. The poison was replaced by a glow of purple light from her mana's aspect. Fleeing her dying body, Biyu went to her realm.
Biyu stood within her Hell, and the sky was screaming. Lights flashed and shimmered. Sound came as screams, howls, and sounds she had no words for. Heat and cold radiated throughout her realm. A sea of souls crowded her small realm from edge to edge, and they were panicking and shoving against the borders to escape the chaos her realm had become. Taking a seat, she watched them struggle to escape. Her attention refused to focus, so she let it wander aimlessly over the devastation. A soul managed to escape her Hell, and she smiled, happy for them. In a lucid moment, she thought to check on Derrick Noveljoys and the Ogre Maker. Both remained imprisoned, unable to reach the edges of her soul.
Biyu settled back to watch her world ending, unable to do much else. One of the bandits came to her, looking concerned. "Master?" he asked.
"I think I am dying," she told him.
"Oh. The demon got you?" he asked. His tone was hopeless rather than panicked.
Biyu shook her head. "No. I am an overfull sack, tearing at the seams. I cannot empty myself fast enough. So I ascend, and I ascend, but it is like a tower built upon sand, ready to topple in a breeze. No foundation."
"That sounds unfair," the bandit said.
"Nothing is fair, is it? But, maybe I can do one last good thing. And even if it fails… at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing I tried."
"Ma'am?"
Biyu looked up at the sky of her world. She willed her broken mortal shell to do the same. "To the Lady of Secrets and Dreams I ask, let the noble dead say their goodbyes! To Arliss who sits in Judgment of this world's souls, I request you Judge the worthiness of the souls I hold and grant them the Heavens! To each of you I grant entry to my Hell, so you may enact your duties."
Another seam in her soul ripped open, and Biyu felt something truly alien writhe into her. If she did not already feel nauseous she was sure this would have done it. A voice resounded, speaking many words all at once. It was the Litanies of Vice and Virtue. They were spoken together, one for each soul as it was weighed. It was thought that the worthy were those whose Litany of Virtue was longer than their Litany of Vice. Listening to it now, she knew that while the Litanies were the weighing of souls, it was not length alone. The words held weight. The words lasted longer, but she was sure that was her mortal mind comprehending a facet of the universe it was not made for. Invisible limbs probed the souls in her Hell. Some of the touched disappeared. First by the dozens, then by the hundreds. Some were touched, but they refused. Why would any soul stay while she died, rather than accepting their justly deserved rewards? Even she desired the Heavens. She would cajole them to go, but the thing that must have been Arliss silenced her with its will alone.
The realm emptied out, but many more were left than Biyu would have guessed. She wondered how many were simply terrified by the alien thing trawling her Hell and refused it. Or, did they perceive Arliss differently than she did? Here the nature of things was obvious to her, but they were still lesser souls. Arliss was as mighty as a god, but had never been a mortal.
A kind of equilibrium was reached. Souls still accumulated, many of them cultists of the demon. A few were those who had not earned their place in the Heavens. Some were soldiers she suspected had dedicated themselves to her for power. Cultists of her own, forced to live with the consequences of their choices. With her body and soul falling apart, her blessings must have been failing. Those poor few whose death she had postponed would die before they could be saved.
Biyu felt hollow. She had lost the power that had fueled her current Step, and yet she was still too powerful for her unrefined body, mind, and soul. Glancing at the bandit who had spoken to her, she found him gone. Apparently he had earned the Heavens. She hoped he would be happy there.
All the aspects that made her—realm, mind, body, soul, and parts she had no name for—were beyond pain. She laid on her back resting, her eyes looking at the maelstrom sky with a moon crashing into the sun and melting. Biyu decided to pass her last moments fantasizing about the future of her family. She was glad she had made arrangements.
Jeremy stared at Lady Biyu convulsing on the ground. She bled from everywhere. Not just every orifice, but her very skin seemed to ooze red. Healers stood well back, waiting for the burning miasma around her to clear. May stood guard, keeping the people back. She was apparently unaffected by the aura.
The soldiers were no longer under Lady Biyu's protection. Some died quickly of lethal wounds that reappeared. The healers tried to heal the soldiers May pointed out, peeling away false flesh to clean the wounds for healing. Many soldiers were simply injured, and they just yelped or cried in surprise as bruises and cuts pained them. May maintained her guard as her master's aura flickered out, becoming a miasma of purple mana. The aura dispelled, a healer rushed over to help. May sent rejected them, sending them back to the soldiers.
"What are you doing?" Jeremy demanded. "Have you—"
"Biyu cannot be saved. She's still siphoning the demon god's power, and it forced her to Ascend without a proper foundation. Her power is killing her. Her soul is tear—"
"To the Lady of Secrets and Dreams I ask, let the noble dead say their goodbyes! To Arliss who sits in Judgment of this world's souls, I request you Judge the worthiness of the souls I hold and grant them the Heavens! To each of you I grant entry to my Hell, so you may enact your duties." Biyu's body shuddered and stilled. The light of mana dulled, and the air filled with the scent of ozone.
Jeremy stared. "She's still trying to fix herself, isn't she?"
May shook her head. "She is offering peace for the dead. This is the end." With a sad smile, she asked, "Can you tell the children and Iris goodbye for us?"
"Why don't—" he began, but May's top half fell off her lower. A killing wound had returned, and the corpse that laid on the ground was torn in two, her midriff spilling her intestines. He stared blankly, in shock. Glancing at the injured soldiers who had seemed whole before, understanding dawned. Shock gave way to disappointment. "She was already dead?"
"Captain, what's happening?" asked a soldier, fear in his eyes. Other soldiers approached after seeing May collapse, looking around for a potential threat.
Jeremy was honest. "Lady Biyu was wounded fighting the demon. She was the one blessing us with power. Now she's dying. Lady Biyu kept her companion May alive as well, but, well…" He gestured dramatically at the nearly dead and the corpse.
The soldiers looked to Biyu. Their faces turned from worried to determined, and they knelt down in worship. Jeremy didn't join them, but he watched over them as they prayed to the diminutive god. Or another demon.
A soldier suddenly yelped and collapsed. He was dead, dying from sudden wounds. People backed away from the body, their eyes seeking out hidden enemies. Other soldiers, all of whom had been fighting the demons until a retreat was called, had injuries appear and were calling for the healer. Chattel sorted out the soldiers, working with the healers to triage the injuries and filling in guard positions with the less injured. Some guards and militia who had been on a break grumbled as they were put back to work.
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Iris was worried. The soldiers who were injured now were among those who had fought in the city below. They had been told the healing of their wounds was temporary, that it could fail if Lady Biyu fell. Some were beyond treatment. Once the magic keeping them alive failed they would die, and no amount of healing could save them. Others forewent healing so that others in more dire condition could be tended to, promising their wounds were minor.
Allie realized what must have happened before Iris allowed herself to consider it. She spun around, eyes wide and hyperventilating. Stumbling up to Iris she asked, "Lady Biyu! Is she alright?"
"I don't think so." Iris didn't have it in her to lie to the girl.
Allie grabbed a hold of Iris, staring up into her eyes. "She can't…!"
Iris shushed her, and spoke quietly and calmly while hugging her. "She told you it would happen when you asked her to fight." She stroked her back. "And she did it anyways."
"I was stupid, wasn't I?"
"You were an angry child. She understood. You were an excuse to do what she wanted to do. What she had to do. You were an excuse, not just a reason." She stroked the girl's head. "I'll take care of you, if she doesn't come back."
"Who will take care of you?" Allie asked, sniffling.
"I'm sure Viscount Lonelyknoll will be willing to give her a posthumous reward. That would go to Lady Anya, but if she's still missing, then it will go to me. I don't think Lady Anya would abandon us, if she can be found. Also, Lady Biyu left us her purse. It's more than you might think."
Chattel came to join them, the soldiers sorted. "Master is dead?" She looked at her broom. "Then my broom is useless."
Sir Stuart joined them as well. "As if wielding a broom was your only contribution." His face hardened. Quietly he asked, "Are you certain she's dead?"
Chattel handed over her broom, and Sir Stuart paled as he held it. "The blessing's gone."
They glanced at the injured soldiers. She could hear them lying to each other, saying things like, "Oh, she must have gotten into another fight and needed the power. You can see the fireworks over there!"
Bert took over comforting his sister, hugging her gently. Chattel moved among the soldiers, boosting their morale. She heard the whispers if Iris did.
Left alone, Sir Stuart asked her, "Are you alright?"
"I was ready, in case it happened, but… not in front of the children." She gave him a grim smile. "I'm a parent now, after all."
He clapped her on the shoulder gently. "Lady Chelsea and the rest of us will help. I promise it."
The city died. Biyu did not. Arliss, the Judge of Souls, the Advocate of Virtue, held her soul together and kept her body barely alive. All so she could serve as a siphon. Souls either shimmered like phantoms, never truly existing here, or appeared within her and remained.
May appeared, and took a protective stance over her projection. "What do you think happens next?"
"We live here for the remainder of eternity? I stop being Hell and just become a forgotten hidden realm?" Biyu shrugged. For now, it did not matter. They would have more than enough time to worry about that later. All the time in eternity.
Holden and Motley were near her, each of them sitting quietly and watching the procession of souls.
"Oh, Motley, you have more souls?" asked May after glancing at it. They nodded their heads in agreement. It was only about twenty Goblins, but still twice the number they had.
"Do you think the demon will die?" Biyu asked May.
"I believe it will," said May. "It would be nice if we could know, but we can't take eternity worrying about it."
"I miss Iris," said Biyu. "Anya, too. And the children"
"Yeah," said May. She sat down in the grass next to Biyu.
Something changed, the realm shuddering. They turned to the veil of her soul, the far off edge of mist, to find it gone. They could see outside of it, to the real world. Those outside could see into her Hell as well. That made her feel vulnerable in a way nudity never had. People bowed to her in worship. Touched by the show of appreciation, Biyu stood up and dusted herself off. A projection of herself, not real in any true sense, stepped out from her realm into the real world. She went to each, and whispered to them her thanks. Each worshiper gave her their own gratitude for what she had done for them.
A single figure approached her with a broken gait. It was ravaged and wasted by sickness. It smelled abominable. Worse than the smoke of the imps. It made its way to her. Biyu took its arm, and escorted it across the border of her Hell. Soldiers and Knights stared on in horrified fascination. Within her realm, she turned the figure toward her, lifting its chin so she could see the face. She saw one of the people she missed. Biyu felt her eyes glistening.
Anya stood within the domain of her spouse. She stank of sickness, shit, and worse things. Her arms were thin and bony, and her hips had lost their curves. Her breasts sagged, deflated balloons covered in scars and pockmarks. Just like the rest of her skin. Her hair was thin and fragile where she was not simply bald. The beauty she had been so proud of was gone. She had already mourned it. She had mourned a great deal in the weeks since she last saw Lady Biyu.
The food she ate was often rotten, and it made her sick rather than nourish her. Some of the vagrants she stayed with were kind, and others cruel. One old woman called her cursed and tried to drive her away, but others had shielded her.
For maybe a month, time eluded her, she had lived at the fringes of society. Sometimes a pious soul gave charity. Priests from the Temple would come with a meal of thin soup for the city poor. Now the city was burning, and even in her fevered state she could tell that something bad was happening. When the people were herded out past the edge of the city, she came with them. Many kept away from her, the smell too much, and others jostled her, trying to push her out of the group and away from wherever they were going. She let them push her, and was happy to trail along behind. A Knight, a woman, smiled at her apologetically, and offered her a hand. She refused, trying not to show her rotting teeth when she smiled back. She still remembered the woman's wince.
They came to an impromptu refugee camp. Stone Circle Knights had built a makeshift fortress. There, in the courtyard, was a broken body. It trembled and shuddered, showing vestiges of life. A Knight from the guard stood over it, and soldiers knelt in worship. Her heart stopped as she recognized the broken body, and the green cloak on a nearby corpse.
She stepped closer as the body convulsed again. The magic sputtered out and died. The nature of the world warped. Where the body laid was a whole world, miles across, in the space of a few feet. It twisted her mind to look at. She would see the entire space, the miles of it, as though it was a normal space, and yet it was only a few feet wide. It made her dizzy. She could not look at Lady Biyu, moving among the worshipers and speaking to them.
She stepped closer, until Lady Biyu took her arm and lead her into the realm herself. Anya felt relief. She had been unwilling to admit how much she feared Lady Biyu would reject her now that she looked like this.
When she entered the domain, she heard a voice. She turned to the source, to the east, and saw an impossible spire in the far distance. At the top were two thrones. The left was empty, and the right sat a man rigid as a statue. He had a waxed beard and mustache, but no hair upon his cheeks. His hair was in a silky ponytail. He wore armor, though she couldn't say why. His eyes were dead and yet full of intelligence. It was something wearing the skin of a Human, but it had never been mortal.
She listened, and knew it was her Litanies of Vice and Virtue. It was strange, and not what she had expected. What should have been a few words had weight, and lasted longer than it could ever take to say them. She remembered the events it weighed as he spoke of them. The first thing she was surprised by was that not everything was one side or the other. Her leaving home was a Vice, heavy with meaning. It was also a Virtue, though the weight was almost fleeting. Her abandonment of her child made her heart sink. It was a light Vice, and a heavy Virtue. She had done the best she could, and the universe thought she had mostly gotten it right. The same was true of her many affairs, after her love fell apart. Sometimes they were Vices, and sometimes they were Virtues. She noted the lengths, and she was surprised to find that Virtue outstripped Vice as they approached the present. For a moment, she thought it was over, and the Heavens were open to her.
A heavy weight, not of something she had done, but something she thought to do, pressed down on her. That one thing promised damnation to the Hells. She was sad, but she knew it was a despised Vice. Seeing that she had heeded his warning, Arliss turned his eyes away from her.
Another figure stood, giving her a wry smile. It was the silhouette of an attractive woman. Anya thought it looked like her before her illness. Diaphanous cloth wrapped the figure, letting the curves of her body tantalize while leaving some mystique. The silhouette was smiling at her, despite having no face. Nothing but cheer radiated from the figure.
"Lady Dreams?" Anya asked.
"You know me well, Anya."
Anya bowed her head deferentially.
"You know my cruelty more than most. So few realize that dreams are hope, and how terrible crushed hopes are. But you? You know. How many times have you found a dream, only to have it utterly crushed?" The mirth faded with the next words. "Do you resent me?"
Anya shook her head. "Even when dreams are crushed and hope is lost, there can always be another dream. I still have a dream."
"Do you worry it will be lost?"
"I trust Lady Biyu."
"More fodder for my husband," Lady Dreams mused. "I am cruel, Anya, but that is the unspoken nature of Dreams. Good luck on making your dreams come true."
Anya bowed to the god, and turned to the figures of Lady Biyu and May. She moved to bow, but Lady Biyu did it first. "Forgive me. I failed to protect you, Anya."
Anya stayed bowed before the woman she married. "You couldn't protect me, not from this. I'm sorry I'm no longer beautiful."
Lady Biyu took Anya in her arms, despite her filth and illness, and hugged her firmly. This was the most affection she had ever shown. "That never mattered to me. As long as you desire it, we are married." There was a pause. "No. I will not allow you to divorce me until you are well and happy."
"I'm no longer a Healer. I'm an Oath breaker."
Anger sparked in Lady Biyu's eyes. "I will fix that." Then she reached into her, past her skin and flesh, and into her mana pool. Anya stood still, even as it hurt. Lady Biyu gripped the curse of her broken oath, and she pulled. Her soul shuddered as Lady Biyu removed the curse by force, and took it for her own. Far away she heard a man scream in pain and rage, but Lady Biyu ignored it. Her eyes were for Anya alone. "Do you want to be as you were? Beautiful?"
"Yes," she admitted. Already she felt herself healing naturally, the dregs of mana in her pool siphoning into her body to reinforce it. Her techniques were gone, broken. All that work, taken from her by a pathetic saint. That made her angry, but now was not the time for anger. She tried to remake the technique for [Heal Injury]. It failed. Taking in a breath, she looked up at Lady Biyu. "I cannot do it."
"Your old Guild owes you reparations. They will fix you." Lady Biyu paused. "But, I am dying."
"I know," Anya said. Her head had cleared, and she could smell herself. She could before, but in the way one got used to a smell. "I need a bath."
Calling out to the soldiers who ringed her, Lady Biyu stated, "My wife desires a bath." Soldiers rose from worship with salutes. They left to get a bath ready while Anya, without shame, stripped. Lady Biyu bathed her at the point between the world she knew and Lady Biyu's domain.
"Why did you not come back?" Lady Biyu asked her as she carefully washed her hair.
"They wouldn't let me into the city looking like that. Maybe call a Priest for me, but that's the extent of it."
"You did not try my name?" Lady Biyu asked. "Sir Stuart opened a bounty to find you."
"He did?" Anya asked in surprise. She shook her head. "I didn't think anyone would believe me."
"I am sorry. If I had told you I was a demon, then you could have prayed to me. I would have come for you."
"You really are a demon?" Anya asked, looking at the ruined world. "That's why…?"
Lady Biyu shook her head. "It was a place we stayed out west originally. A nighttime camp. It is like this because I am dying."
"You don't sound afraid?"
"I was resigned to it when I agreed to help kill the demon." Lady Biyu was washing her body gently with a piece of clothe. "I am glad I got to see you before the end. You should go when were are done. I do not know what will happen when Arliss is done."
Even though her spouse was dying, she felt good about today. She could hear Lady Dreams laugh.
The city had died, and gods and their agents warred within its corpse. The demon was mighty. So were the Imperial deities. After a day of warfare the Knights were exhausted, but still they fought. The Order of Holy Lances' god was injured, and his brilliance diminished, but still he fought. The College of Falling Skies could no longer bring down the sky, for it was too likely they would strike their allies during the current melee.
Magic, so prevalent at the beginning, was replaced with scuffles of flesh and steel. The power of the demon continued to wain, its thralls taken away by the burning eyed soldiers who hovered along the edges of the battle. The Knights and Wizards cheered while the demon raged. Even when only the beast itself was left, the cultists and thralls spent and devoured, it was still a divine creature. Its strikes wounded the soul, and its power was more than any unawakened could withstand.
The Knights quit the field to bind their wounds. There were not enough healers, and even some who should have been saved were lost. Stories of near immortal soldiers, mere unawakened, were spread by some Knights to the rest. No longer needed for the battle, the Knights went to speak to the soldiers. There they heard the stories from wounded soldier who lived it.
They were brought to see the dying woman, her body so still it could be confused for a corpse. Over the body was a domain, clean and crisp, a world miles wide filled with people in a rolling hill and woods as broken as the city. A woman bathed within the domain with the image of the dying god. It was such a surreal view that the Knights were speechless, just like the soldiers who stood vigil. They looked away from the naked women when May gave them a warning look. The Knights joined the vigil of the god.
Soon the burning eyed soldiers joined them. Some had bodies of flesh, others bodies of mana. Four, oddly, had bodies of pottery. They formed a guard of honor, standing around the domain defensively. There were dozens of soldiers, a motley collection of militia and guard including a few Knights. Their friends came to speak with them. Runners were sent to try and find family, so that they could see their loved ones before Lady Biyu finally died. If she was going to. There were murmurs that maybe she would survive despite the state of her body.
Knights of the Order and curious Wizards joined the vigil as they arrived at the fortress. They gave their ally honor, even as she was drying off another woman after bathing her. A woman who was simultaneously beautiful and obviously getting over illness. It was a strange double vision that hurt their eyes to look at. Not to mention the glares of their bodyguard.
Finally, as midnight near, the demon fell. A decisive strike by the god of the Holy Lance broke its immortal body. The Falling Sky took the hole and ripped it open with a molten rock. The divine demon tried to rise to the Heavens, defying death to become a true god, but its Divinity dulled and sputtered out. Ascension had always been beyond it, Arliss barring the door, but it was desperate to flee. With the demon was dead, its Hell expunged its last residents. Lost Souls repopulated the city left empty of the living. In their victory, the gods took a moment to congratulate each other, then they went to find their subordinates.
The gods found the vigil. They observed the bizarre scene of men watching askance as two women with two bodies finished dressing. One was a still warm corpse, not quite dead. The other was a projection superimposed over a body ravaged by sickness and hunger.
They called their adjutants. They were told stories. Stories the Holy Lance had seen a part of, for he had witnessed men who should be dead, and dead who rose to fight once more. Holy Lance and Falling Skies conferred after the stories were told. Their debate did not last long, and those watching doubted it was a debate so much as an agreement. Turning to the transitional existence, they watched as the strength and health of the domain faded. It cracked and flickered, Arliss no longer bolstering the tiny woman's existence. The other woman left the domain, the phantom true self fading away to leave a woman in recovery. She stumbled a little, no longer held up by the domain. Soldiers came to assist her.
The gods acted.
Each one gave Biyu a blessing. Holy Lances blessed her body, so it could heal from the wounds of her forced Ascension. Falling Skies blessed her soul, patching the tears and cocooning it to prevent further injury. Blessings provided, they offered salutes before retiring to celebrate the victory with their brethren.
Healers were called from the Guild of the Fallen Sister, and the healing of Lady Biyu began. Among the guard, militia, and Knights who witnessed the miracles of her warriors both living and dead, there were prayers that the War Angel would return in good health. Superstition kept any from openly admitting to such a wish.
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