A small house in the middle of the hills.

Close vicinity of the capital.

Tharia had never much liked the scent of cooked flesh. No judgment there, just personal preference - but she had also never been happier than now about a room laden with the scent of smoked meat. Everything was better than rotten fleshcrops. Preserved sausages hung from hooks on the ceiling and the roof was black with soot. There were no individual rooms as such, but tanned hides and furniture were used to segment the house into different areas. That was the first thing she noticed. The lack of other people came later.

The house had a few oddities. For starters, there was no chimney, just a firepit in the middle. The lack of windows also meant the smoke was well preserved but tiny cracks here and there allowed in just enough air to breathe. At first, Tharia coughed but then learned to deal with it in time. The second surprise was a water reservoir. In stark contrast with the rather primitive firepit, they had used a brass pipe to collect rainwater from the roof. The four walls were thick enough to pass for fortification and stubbornly kept the hills outside.

After the first few hours, their constant noise started to drown into the background and once night came, it died off. All that time, the two women had been silent. Even Tharia. It was obvious to her that Annabelle needed a moment of privacy and Tharia had thoughts to sort through as well. The last days had been a mad rush. She had been hopped up on pain, adrenaline, spontaneous stupid ideas and euphoria. Now that there was a moment of calm, it all came crashing down. Tharia looked at her dirty arms and sighed.

She picked up a bowl of water and shuffled over towards one of the walls. Using it as a rest for her back, she sat down on the wooden floor and took a series of deep breaths. When she coughed again, she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the smell or rather because of that.

She reached one of her hands up to her own throat. It still hurt. There was no need for a mirror to know that there were finger sized marks all around it. With a dull look, she automatically pulled up the collar of her shirt. Hide it and move on. Make it disappear and it’ll be alright. Just push it to the side. But this didn’t feel right. It never had - but now it really bothered her. With a swift pull, she made the marks visible again and let out a groan of anger.

Tharia needed a moment of clarity, a chance to think without the constant dull ache from her lower body. There would be regret later, it always hurt like being doused in fire to bridge the connection between her lower spine and the rest but now she just decoupled the spark and let it roam free inside of her. This ache was a gentle one, just relaxation as the body finally calmed down.

She thought back to a different time. Annabelle had been her friend once. That was a long time ago. Now she wasn’t sure. The goddess was broken, perhaps more than herself. But after what had happened with her hired escort, it was also her only chance of going further. She once again touched her neck. Her lips curled into a beaming smile that did not reach her eyes. There was just the right amount of innocence in that look. It was a trained masterpiece of a mask. Always offer people a way out of their violent impulses. That was her personal disgusting wisdom, filled with just the right amount of sarcastic self-loathing.

Right, girl. You look like shit. She shook off her sinister thoughts and dragged the bowl of water closer. Dipping a piece of cloth into it, she then started to wash her grime-covered hands. It had been a small wonder the rifle hadn’t exploded in her hands. There was a marked difference in using the well-maintained show toys of her brother and firing an actual war-weapon. It was something she would need to learn.

She suddenly realized the presence of the other woman closeby. That pale beauty sat down next to her and quietly pulled the cloth from her hands. Without saying a word, she too dipped it into the water, added a bit of soap and then started to wash Tharias hands and arms.

Both women sat quietly, absorbed in the moment. Tharia did her best to not show her apprehension. That was another one of her private, messed up wisdoms. Most people who had hurt someone close to them didn’t really mean to do it. But if you were scared, they’d get angry at themselves - and then at you. Just be normal. Happy. Like nothing happened. Except she couldn’t anymore. No longer. A shudder ran through her body and the beaming smile vanished into an ugly grimace. She pulled her hands back with force, spilling half the bowl in the process.

Great, Tharia. She watched Annabelle sigh and braced herself for impact but nothing such came. Instead, the other woman had given her a bit of room and watched her with a pained expression.

“Let us talk before this festers”, Annabelle said.

Tharia hid her discontent again. Excuses, groveling, promises to never do it again. Like all good fairytales tales, it was one best repeated many times. She remained silent and let Annabelle speak.

“But I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for this”

The silvery-blonde girl reached out and brushed her fingers over the choke marks.

“I can’t make it undone and can’t promise to never do it again. I’m broken, little fairy”, Annabelle said and there was genuine sadness in those words. 'Fairy' had been Tharia’s nickname when she was younger.

“I’m bad with words”, Annabelle continued after a bit of silence, “When they stole my essence, I didn’t come back quite right. You don’t know how it feels when some part of you just breaks.”

Tharia shot her a glance that amounted to: Are you fucking kidding me right now? Annabelle visibly went through various emotional stages: Confusion, realization and the sudden urge to bang her head against the floor, all accented by a wooden thud and instant regret because doing that actually hurt. Tharia instinctively reached out but quickly pulled her hand back. Annabelle looked up with a half-smirk.

“You’re right. You do know. What I tried to do, uhm what I meant was, that I... I planned, intended uh”.

Even fallen deities could stutter and stumble over their own words. Tharia simply remained silent. She didn’t trust her trained reactions at all. If she were to talk now, she’d just claim everything was going to be alright. There’d be some humor, a quick way out that deflected any guilt and then they’d be on their merry way. She didn’t. Keeping quiet it was.

Annabelle brushed a strand of silvery hair to the side. It was a cute looking gesture that Tharia subconsciously appreciated, although she would never admit to that. Certainly not now. After another quiet pause, Annabelle swallowed hard and continued with a barely audible volume.

“I’ll start at the beginning. Gods feel when one of their Kin dies. We get their memories up to the moment of death, which includes all the fears, pains and their very last thought. Little fairy, I’m the last one out of a pantheon of thousands”

The voice started to break. Annabelle put her face into her hands and the next time she looked up again, tears had started to wash away some of the dirt.

“Their voices went from confusion to anger. The first dozen didn’t know what was happening. The final hundred all died cursing my very name. They weren’t wrong. It was my essence that killed them all, even if it wasn’t my doing. When all was said and done and my husband tossed me aside - with the last of my strength I opened the gates to the golden temple and unleashed all of it”

Great, Tharia thought. My friend started the apocalypse. That’s certainly something. Annabelle continued.

“I don’t know why I’m still alive. I awoke to a room full of dolls made in my image, somewhere out in those woods. I’ve been wandering in a deathlike stupor since. That is until I felt the spark within you. Life or death, I wanted back what was mine. I was rejected, by myself. Your life is important to me and I’m sorry for what I did”

Tharia felt the sudden urge to laugh and suppressed it until it was a mere chuckle. The turmoil of emotions inside of her felt like a cage of demons rattling about. Pressing her lips together, she felt a sudden urge to figuratively throw the key into the pit. Grinning widely, she clapped her hands and finally replied.

“If it is honesty you want. Have it. I hate you. From the bottom of my heart, dear friend, I. hate. you.”, Tharia said without any trace of emotion on her face for a change. She saw the sudden hurt in her friend’s eyes and felt a pang of actual glee about it. This was the worst of it all. Whenever Tharia looked at a mirror, she saw a smiling hypocrite - a true merchant of misery and lies.

“You knew. My brother. My family. You saw. When I needed you most, you had up and vanished, of to get married to your handsome prince. Can you imagine what it does to a little girl to have an actual live-sized goddess for a friend – and then be left to rot?”

By the end of it, Tharia was screaming. Somewhere along the words, rage had bubbled up. It was a seething white mess of emotions she could no longer tangle up and lock down. She reached for the bowl of water and in one quick motion, threw it towards Annabelle. Tharia's next words came with a low tone to them.

“Yep. I’m a selfish little shit now. I will use and abuse everything I can to get my way. So I’ll cling to you. Yes, you started the end of the world, big deal. Get over it. We go into this city”, Tharia jabbed a finger against Annabelle’s forehead. The goddess was simply stupified at the torrent of words.

“We get back your powers. Slam each and every one of those filthy fuckers into the ground and bring them a nightmare of our making. And yes, we're weak. But when I can’t walk, you’ll carry me, when you're wounded, I heal and when you can’t go on anymore, I’ll drag your sorry pasty arse straight back into the abyss again, because you’re just plain not allowed to rest until you have done right by me”

With that, Tharia finally ended her storm. Her breathing was ragged, she hadn’t even noticed the fervor she had worked herself into until now. With the words out, she felt nothing. Just emptiness. As Tharia finally took notice of Annabelle again, she saw a dripping wet mess of a frail person. The silvery hair hid her face but not the slumped over shoulders. Sighing, Tharia crawled over to the shocked woman and simply pulled her into a gentle embrace.

“Worst of all”, Tharia said, “I hate myself. Because know what? I also like you. You’re still my friend. We’ll do this together. We've got a legion of issues but we'll kick their arse, make them our fluffy pet and then ride off into the sunset dressed in garishly fabulous dresses”

What a sodding mess I am, Tharia thought. Tell her you hate her, then tell her you like her. Deep within she realized that it was all of these things, hate, and sympathy, guilt and blame intertwined in one chaotic mess of suppressed emotions.

“Please. No dresses”, Annabelle whispered after a moment of awkward silence.

“Yes. Absolutely dresses”

They rested for two days straight. It was a strangely merry affair where they shared careful smiles and occasional laughs. Annabelle took to plundering the preserved sausages while Tharia made an impact on their rations. Every few hours they would just ever so slightly open the door to get a bit of fresh air inside. Still, the atmosphere felt fake. Despite telling herself she forgave Annabelle for what had happened, whenever the other made a sudden gesture, Tharia couldn’t help but shudder. There was no doubt Annabelle noticed this but with some form of unspoken contract, none of them spoke about it. Whenever they glanced outside, the flesh-things still stood outside. The hills were very patient, seemingly. But the girls had learned something valuable and it wasn’t the power of a shitty friendship - but rather just how much even monster plants seemingly needed sunlight. Each night, the beasts slowed down until they just stood there.

And so it came that upon the third day the two women prepared for their journey ahead. Their morning was spent sorting through their equipment. For example, there was no more need for horse snacks but Tharia didn’t have time to sort them out earlier. She had also grabbed the sword from the carriage back then but Annabelle just looked at it and tossed it aside.

“It’s trash”, she said.

Tharia took another look at the thing and came to the conclusion it was more of a half-truth. While the blade was notched, the silly and impractical scythe of the goddess was in much worse shape. Yet there was no way around the fact that Tharia had absolutely zero training in martial weaponry. Thus, the Otherseer Rifle was a much better fit for her, plus it blended well with her barriers. It didn’t need mobility and with medium range, it could be used by an amateur like her.

Reloading was a problem, however. The weapon was one of those early front-loaded models and it was sheer luck that she had been able to load and fire it from when she was carried. The price for that one shot was that half her black powder had up and vanished due to her clumsiness. Annabelle took a quick look at the rifle and then shook her head.

“It’ll do until we find better”, she said. Perhaps she was right. It wasn't in the best of state either. The strange contraption looked half broken and it leaked some oily black liquid all over that was very hard to get out. Some of it had even gotten on Tharia's skin and it had itched for hours until it was suddenly gone.

Once they were done with their preparations, they had downsized to two rucksacks. Tharia carried part of the rations, the holy soap which none of them denied anymore, black powder, bandages, a small assortment of herbs, the barrier chain and of course the remaining shots for the rifle. They had also made a makeshift carry strap for the rifle. Annabelle on the other had the other part of the rations, a sturdy rope, a lump of pyrite for starting a fire or two and several layers of cloth along with an assortment of various things. She also brought along a frying pan and a pot. Their only bedroll was stuffed all around these things as some form of protection.

Tharia stretched her arms and then fell back onto the wooden floor. For but a few seconds, she simply embraced the serene quiet of the late evening, but then snapped back up.

“Good. Let’s talk action. It seems the beasts grow tired at night. Maybe it’s some weird sun thing. I say we try and sneak our way past them. They’re plenty stupid all things considered”

Annabelle sat on the floor and listened without showing any reaction to what she heard. Not that a reaction would have helped. As was usual with Tharia, even getting a reaction wouldn’t faze her storm of words in the slightest.

“From what I remember, there are two more villages like these on our road. So if everything fails, we bolt to the next village. Set up camp, repeat. Now that we’re rested and sated, we’re a force to reckon with”, she continued on. There was a sudden itch on her lower back, she scratched it and moved on. Still no reaction from Annabelle though.

“So sneak out at the peak of night. If it fails, we’re both more rested and our new load distribution weighs less too. We can do this. So listen up! We started this as shivering dirty messes. Now we’ve upgraded to worms that will bite a city-sized dragon. There will be...”

“Tharia!” Annie interjected.

“You’re alive!” Tharia suddenly shouted and raised both hands high above her head. Her face showed a playful act of surprise. Annabelle sighed deeply.

“Don’t hold speeches. They’re terrible”

And down came the hands again.

“You’re petty”

For lack of a clock, it wasn’t precisely midnight but close enough. The moon stood high and bathed the little village in a gentle light. The shadows made the flesh giants look even more grotesque in shape. Tharia watched Annabelle leave first. Her friend opened the door as quietly as she could. Just like herself, she wore a wet cloth above mouth and nose. The scent of flowers was all-powerful and had cost them the last of their soap. There now was another contract between the two women: Don’t ask about where all the soap had gone in but three days.

Tharia quietly followed her friend outside. The fleshbeasts really did stand still. None of them moved even a little bit and in a reverse of when they had first come here, a soft wind was blowing – but none of the crops actually paid attention to it. Tharia shivered, staring at these things really felt as if something was crawling over her back. She shivered yet again a second time and then quietly followed in the footsteps of her friend. At night, she looked even more like something out of a painting. Elegant, graceful, like something precious. There was a bit of envy when Tharia took a quick glance at herself. But now was neither the time nor the place for that.

The two girls weren’t terribly fast. Every step was aimed at causing as little sound as possible. Quite soon, they reached the other end of the tiny village. The road here had seen better times. Somewhere in the last days, the hills had seemingly smashed up the stone. Annabelle gestured towards the remaining spots of stone and then nodded in the direction of the city.

They carefully stepped on the still intact places and made their way forwards. To their left and right, like a guard of unearthly things, stood walls of glistening flesh. Now that they remained dormant, they looked even more gruesome. Tharia made the mistake of taking a closer look. It was like something out of a nightmare. There really were bones insides of these things. Inside and partially outside. But these bones were far too small, yet obviously human. No, just no. She pressed the perfumed cloth tightly against her face in an attempt to drown out what she had seen. It didn’t work.

She suddenly bumped into Annabelle but found her involuntary squeal muffled as the other woman too held a hand over her mouth. Her friend looked at her. It felt like she was staring into eternity. Yet Tharia couldn’t help but glance at the wall of flesh again.

Annabelle grabbed her chin and gently forced Tharia to look at her again. She then slowly shook her head and pointed towards the road ahead. She then gave Tharia a pat on the back and nudged her forwards. Falling back into their sneaky pace, Tharia now stubbornly looked at the road ahead.

Without warning, a loud sound echoed throughout the valley, followed by a second and a third. Gunshots. Someone else was in these fields, although several kilometers away going by the flashes of light. Looking at each other, the two women quickened their pace with nervous glances to the side. The wall of meat had started to shiver and shudder. Clicking noises could be heard as various tools were dragged out from within their grotesque bodies. The things sluggishly swayed back and forth, just like the crop parasites had done but they still didn’t attack.

That is until a massive flash lightened up the fields. A huge explosion rocked the ground and even though it was a distance away, they still felt the shock. All of a sudden the hills started groaning and fell into their unnerving hum again. Spurred into action, the shapeless things resumed their squirming and writhing. Both girls looked on in horror as the fields themselves sprang to action. More and more of it awakened from slumber. Turns out, they didn’t really need the sunlight. Annabelle took both Rucksacks over her shoulders and then started running, closely followed by Tharia.

It cost her a lot of energy to concentrate on running and keeping the divine spark in place just to make her body function. It was still a nightmarish feeling and she slowed both of them down significantly. Yet with the uneven load distribution between the two, she somewhat managed to keep up.

And like that, they ran for several minutes, never daring to look back. Just one foot in front of the other. Keep going. Don’t think about breathing. Think about nice things. Annabelle’s hair. Silky and soft to the touch. Tharia groaned. Other things. Green fields with flowers to frolick through. Another groan. Other, other things.

Wheezing and out of breath they finally slowed down. They hadn’t even made a dent in the distance to the capital, but while they caught their breath, nothing came flying their way. All around them was silence. The fleshbeasts were all gone.

“What?”, exclaimed Tharia in a bit of surprise and almost instantly, a shudder ran through the ground nearby - but no flesh-thing formed yet.

Several loud explosions gave the answer where the things had gone. More flashes of light illuminated the field to reveal a hulking monstrosity. The very hills had piled up into a shivering and shuddering nightmare. Massive appendages slammed into the ground and were answered by gunshots. Even this far off, Tharia saw the tiny human-like shapes fly through the air as if they were toys, tossed aside by a bored nightmare. Tharia moved closer to her friend and whispered into her ear.

“Being quiet really was the right call”

Annabelle nodded. As soon as they had regained enough breath, they continued on. Not running. Slow and methodical. It was hard to not look back though. The sounds increased in intensity before they suddenly died down. One, two more gunshots echoed throughout the field and the hills suddenly changed the tune of the humming to a more joyous one.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened, but Tharia didn’t dare to look anymore. That could have been them. True, they didn’t start the noise but one mistake, perhaps a mishandling of the black powder and that humongous thing would have been after them instead. It was at this moment that Tharia finally realized why these songs seemed so familiar. They weren’t farmer songs but lullabies and nursery rhymes. With their head held low, they continued on their path.

The fields ended without warning. There was a sudden twist in the road and they found themselves in front of the gate. True, they had been seeing the massive walls for a while, but suddenly standing next to it drove home just how high up these walls reached. Made out of Blackstone, they were covered in countless symbols and runes – only that these were inert.

A huge archway marked the gate. Despite the fortifications, it was obvious that this was made in times of peace. There were several flying buttresses balancing the structural load outwards, allowing for the sharp angle of the gateway. Halfway up the gate, they had switched to a massive circular rose window and then let it flow out into the sharp edge above. The lower half held one intrinsically detailed door of the gate. Gold was used to paint various mythical beasts and images on it, telling the story of the cities founding. The other half of the door was actually right in front of Tharia on the ground. The massive piece of wood looked as if something had decided to use it as a chew toy. Large chunks of it were missing and scratch-marks could be seen all along the wood. She didn’t want to think about the implications that something had actually made its way out of the city, instead of in.

In front of the gate were the remains of a tollbooth. It was no surprise that with the fall of the city, these were in a state of complete destruction. Only tiny walls reminded of their presence. That and a crown of hanged officials, their dried up corpses dangled on thick ropes.

“It’s not so bad”, Tharia suddenly said and rubbed her nose, “I mean, no accounting for taste. This seems like a great place to live. Look, no taxes. Open door policy too. Free choice of transportation...”

She lifted her hand and pointed towards a wide collection of abandoned carriages, wagons and carts. Some of them had their own collection of dried up bones around them. Animal and human alike.

“Oh, and the golden fields are to die for...”

Tharia was babbling in a desperate attempt to hide her nervousness. Annabelle simply looked at her with that expressionless face of hers and then gave her a nudge forwards. Without even breaking her stride – of words that is – she stumbled forwards. With one woman talking and the other one silent, they approached the gate.

As they got closer, Tharia looked over her shoulder. A shudder ran down her spine, even just looking at the living fields made her feel as if icy water ran down her spine. With another shrug, she continued on her way. Yet following a sudden itch, she scratched the skin above her collarbone. Then on her hands and her arms. Her forehead. It was then that she felt a weird sort of liquid on her skin. Annabelle turned around at her fidgeting. Her gaze instantly turned sour.

"Tharia. Drop the weapon. NOW"

Tharia looked up at her friend and then at her hand. Thick black streams of an oozy substance ran over them. The itching became unbearable. She let go of the rifle but it somehow stuck to her skin. Looking down at her hands once more, she saw a thick lump of ooze crawl out of the rifle and onto her hands. It mixed with the thousand icy tendrils and grew bigger within seconds. Tiny spear-like protrusions formed and pointed directly at her face. Perhaps most absurd, a miniature human face formed on the goo and spoke to her. It had a familiar sound to it.

"Hello there, friend", the voice of the coachman said, "It's time we talk"

End: And they were legion | Coming up: At the gates of madness