Jali was a woman who was not comfortable with authority. There was something in her nature that simply, consistently rebelled against anyone who put themselves above her. For all that it had gotten her in immense trouble--kicked out of the Temple, out of the orphanage, and made it damn near impossible to survive on the city streets--she considered it her greatest strength.

It was vain, perhaps, but it was confidence, power, strength. A street rat who should have had no pride instead was immeasurably proud of herself... although, according to others, it was for all the wrong reasons. That pride had gotten her the only instructor she could possibly have needed--an obese older man with a library full of very rare books, including two shelves full of tainted black books.

And she had felt those books from across the room, felt that she understood them, felt that they answered a deep need inside her. She craved power, and in those books, she found it. Power that was not "magic"--it didn't have all the rules, all the complications. This power did not require her to bend her knee to authority. All it required was sacrifice.

And that sacrifice could just as easily come from others.

She had been told by priests that a Goddess would hunt her for daring to use the black arts in their city, but no matter where in the nation of Parre she traveled, there seemed to be no gods nor goddesses nipping at her heels--only guards and sorcerers, and she had her own ways of dealing with each. And it truly delighted her, each time she stood over a blood circle, watching a circle of red candle flames turn black, feeling the truth of her own power as the world changed around her. This was her Truth: she was an enemy of people, a monster in the darkness.

A person with real, genuine power. A force of nature. She even had come to like the term "devil", although she dared not use it too openly. People were more keen to work with her if she kept the rhetoric at a fairly low level.

The prince of Parre had come to her one night. For a woman who hated authority, it was an ideal irony, one that she delighted in--quietly. Her methods were poorly understood, but he recognized her power, and kneeled to her, begged her to become his. He had her kill his father, which she did, delighting in the act. And when the Prince become King, he showered her with gifts and left her alone, only begging her on occasion to do some underhanded things for him.

It was more fear than loyalty, as it should be. She was never going to be loyal to him. If he ever tried to force her, she'd kill him, and he knew it. The king had been very well defended, by sorcerers and guards. Their blood only served to help fuel her magic.

But even this simpering fool of a king could occasionally demand things of her.

"Win this war for us," was his edict. "I don't care how."

For all that the black arts seemed to simply answer her prayers and bend the world to her wishes, she could tell in moments that it wasn't that easy. So she looked for other angles--spent time touring with invading forces, spoke with diplomats, whatever she could find. There were only two things that she found, and the first led immediately to the second.

She had found a crack in the world, and dived deep.

They called it the Hell's Mouth, the Demon's Maw, or other delightful names. The place beneath, according to books she'd read, was simply known as the Underworld. It was too hot for surface dwellers to survive--and the surface was too cold for the inhabitants. Rakshasa were monstrous creatures that ate flesh and souls, and they hated all the creatures of the surface.

Naturally she wanted an alliance, and after weeks of searching, she managed to find one creature in the depths of that hell that was not only willing and able to talk, it even seemed... halfway intelligent. Cogent. Real, in a way that the others weren't.

It spoke of gods as not only real beings that walked the earth, but beings which could be killed. It spoke of how in the time before time, their gods had their power stolen by humanity. He made it clear that the power could be stolen once more. Although it didn't deign to describe how, she didn't need to know that.

Her power was one that accomplished any wish that she set it to, as long as she had the strength and wit to do it. She only needed to know that she could, and possible methods sprang to mind.

It was years in the setup. She had sensed it once--that one of her enemies had all the powers of a goddess, but muted, restrained, hidden. She confirmed it, laid traps. She sent out hidden words for other necromancers to join her, and bargained for the assistance of the Rakshasa. There were two goddesses hidden in Belma, the creature had said. She merely had to kill them both. One key she could keep, and one she would deliver to this creature, this Oracle of the Rakshasa.

She didn't even intend to betray the thing. She hated people as much as these creatures of the underworld seemed to, and it would delight her to see them change the world. Perhaps that was why the creature had such a smile, such a keen interest in her. Perhaps it knew that with her help, the end of the two goddesses was at hand.

So it was that with the help of two far less capable assistants, Jali had stood at the center of a field of blood, watching torches turn black, as the monkey-woman screamed her last screams. She didn't know what to think of the power that flowed into her, didn't know how to hold it within her. But she knew that at least now, at least today, it was hers. Soon this power would be hers forever.

"Why," was the only word that the goddess spoke, at the end.

Jali simply spit in her face in response, and laughed.

In spite of her expectations, though, one of the Parren Commanders came back through the portal less than an hour later. His face, she thought, was like a pig's--ugly, wrinkled, stupid. Just barely enough to qualify as human.

"You said they wouldn't know we were coming," he snarled at her, still clearly believing himself to be her better. "A prepared force just attacked us. We've lost almost every scout we sent in, and the few that come back say the city is already being abandoned. They were awake and aware of us before we even arrived."

Jali frowned, and turned to her assistants. "Keep the door open until I get back," she snarled, and proceeded through. The two, alone, were not able to do much more than let one or two people through at a time, but that was enough, for now.

She breathed the air of Belma, frowning. She had felt the death of the goddess, but sensed she was still alive, just... different. And there was another feel in the air, another deity... but male, perhaps? It was difficult for her to know for certain, even with all her talents, but she wanted to say it was definitely male. One way or another, it was definitely different.

Both were weak, but they were here, maybe even in this town. She felt a thrill. If there was another god, one the Oracle had not counted on, then she would have a spare left over. If one key made her a normal goddess, would two make her even more special? Even if not, perhaps she could dissect it, figure out how godhood worked. She could play with the other gods, once she knew how to beat them.

The commander scowled at her. "Well?" he snapped. "Are you going to--"

With a gesture, she ripped his soul out, and stripped the blood out of his body. By her will, when it spilled on the ground, it formed a circle, and his body was flung aside, torn to pieces.

There is a third, she sent to the Oracle. Do you know of this?

Fate has changed, replied the Oracle. An outsider was brought. Things are less certain.

Jali bared her teeth at the night, defiantly. No. It is still certain. We will win. Give me more of your men.

The oracle hesitated, but even it feared her. Of course.

Jali poured her power into the blood circle, watching it turn black. With her will, she commanded the darkness of the town--the deepest shadows--and tore holes in those places straight to the underworld.

At the same time, she broadcast her thoughts from those shadows, basking in the fear and confusion that she sensed in her enemies... and also in her allies. Ah... I was wondering where these pests came from... and now I sense a presence... the presence of a god, or perhaps two? This will not stand... She bared her teeth in the night, feeling like a predator happening upon a family of mice asleep in their nest. No, no. I will not allow you to stand in my way. She wanted to laugh out loud, but dared not spend the concentration. Having power was thrilling! She rarely got to have this much fun. Fie on the gods, and to hell with mankind. ROT!

When finally she had pulled through the extra warriors that the Oracle promised, Jali let her power lapse, and had to double over to catch her breath. But she was laughing, and the soldiers of Parre who stood there... she could sense their fear, now, their hatred. She was certain that their hatred made her stronger, she just... couldn't quite hold on to the extra power, even after having spent so much. She was holding too much, more than she could handle. Gathering more was not something she could do yet.

But soon.