The blade bounced, reflecting back towards Dan as he placed his hand against the flat of the khopesh. It sung out to him, making his arms shake with the song of metal against metal, blade against blade.The song, and the force that had caused the blade to sing pushed him backwards, he planted his feet, digging them into the ornate tilework of the floor and found almost no purchase.

Almost.

The edge of Dan’s boot caught and with a feeling like the world suddenly had a return of reality and weight he pulled himself back together, willing the pieces of his mind to become unfragmented, even as his guard was shattered. There was a strange peace about war, about battle, something of a calm that washed over the participants, something the poor bystanders didn't have, couldn't achieve.

Calm before death perhaps?

Dan didn't know, all he knew was in front of him, the arch of the curved axe like weapon that sung to him, sung the world around it with each stroke, each thrum. And in this hauntingly beautiful song the world around him ceased to exist. Everything slowed down, turned into a black and white, all color faded from his eyes, all light all dark.

There was only the song of his blade, low and gold, and the song of his opponents, high and blue. They danced together like two ballroom dancers, each swooning and sweeping as they passed and sometimes coming together in a passionate embrace, for which the song would resonate.

A deadly beautiful dance.

A butterfly deadly dance.

Instead of moving his arms he simply held on as the blade danced its graceful dance, he was not leading it, or was he? He no longer knew, all he knew was the song. And with a smile, he closed his eyes. He could hear the sharp inhalation of his opponent, or co dancer depending on how one viewed the current predicament. There was surprise in that sharp intake of breath.

Surprise and rage.

The blades sang to him, and even without sight he was able to block and follow each arc as they grew increasingly erratic, the song forever marching in his head, increasing its tempt to keep up with the dance. Or was the dance keeping up with the song?

Dan didn't know, all he knew was that this felt natural, like he had done it thousands of times, millions even, and for all he knew he might have.

Marduk narrowed his golden eyes, he looked into the eyes of his opponent, of his father. No not his father, simply a hollowed shell of his father. The world was cruel, the gods were cruel to make such a coupling, such an arrangement that made the two of them clash.

Even more infuriating was the fact that this Dan was not even trying, it was honestly shameful, even this small shard of his father was more powerful than he, was that a testament to his father’s strength or to his own weakness? Or both? He watched as the other man closed his eyes, a serene smile on his lips, and growling he pressed the attack.

Nothing seemed to be working, no matter how he varied his attacks how he acted or changed his stance each and every blow bounced off of the blade of the khopesh, causing the air to sing with the sound of metal on metal.

Sing.

Sing.

That was the answer, he was listening to the sound! If that was the case…

He breathed in and willed the blade to be silent and so it was as he willed, the wind voided the space around the Axe, causing no sound to sing out no matter what it struck, how it swung or any other means of casting sound.Dan’s eyebrows creased as the sound stopped, but much to Marduk’s surprise he still didn't open his eyes, and much to Marduk’s horror even in this silence the man flowed and moved, blocking the blow, though only just barely.

***

Asherah sat watching the events unfold. Ah, Dan, she really hadn't been lying when she told him that she found him most interesting indeed, though she had never actually told him why he was so interesting, so damned interesting to her.

She didn't need to hear when Shamesh walked up behind her, his footsteps were noticed by the grass as he walked over them, him and the troupe he brought. “Is it that time already?” she called back over her shoulder.

“Indeed,” Shamesh sighed as he stopped pretending not to be there, how was he supposed to hide from a goddess of nature when he was surrounded by her nature, her spies none the less, he looked down at the grass, had it been them that gave him away? “Are you going to come along without fight?” He was a tall man, with dark brown skin and curling black hair, on his face lay a sculpted beard, it had intricate ringlets and rows and was oiled to high heaven and back, causing it to look less like a beard and more like a piece of art he had decided to hang from his face. He like her and all the rest of the gods had golden eyes, but his held no pupils or any other thing in them, they were a solid gold. It coupled with his beard gave the man the look of a talking mask, like the thing she was looking at was not a face at all but rather a mask.

“Fight?” she asked with a smile on her lips, “Oh yes I will fight, just not in the way you have come to expect,” she laughed darkly and his stone mask of a face cracked slightly as he frowned, casting deep crags on his face. The groups of gods behind him all shuffled nervously, all in attendance there was somewhere near a thousand, they had all moved as silent as ghosts over the plains, but then again they were not material creatures, but ones of a more godly nature so mere silence was likely not an issue.

“You have violated Law, Credence, and life itself,” he spoke up, more for his and the crowd’s benefit than his own or hers.

“Oh? And what will you do to me?” she asked, her lips perking up at the corners.

“There is only one punishment for that law’s breaking, I am sure you know it.”

Her smile made him and the crows to draw back, it curled on her lips like a lioness that had just found itself an injured stag, ripe for the kill. It was a predator's smile, dark and disturbing.

“Ah, it is true then, I always wondered myself,” she laughed.

“What is true?” Shamesh asked, his brows pinched in confusion.

“There is this quant human saying, it echoes across many people, some who have never even had contact with each other.” she smiled serenely, not daunted by the gods who all were staring at her, eyes transfixed. “It would seem the gods do indeed have a sense of humor.” she laughed…

***

The blade of the axe cut across his chest, the blade sliced Dan’s flesh clean open, spreading him out letting the blood spray in a high arching rain, his eyes flew open for the first time in a long time, he could hear Abyzou screaming, but it was all so distant.

Like the pain.

One would think having his chest sliced open would hurt, or at least not feel so, so what? He watched as the red drops rained down in slow motion, and as the ace continued its arc finishing and coming back down for the killing blow.

He looked at the blood, and smiled, there was something in it, something more than the red, ah, was that himself? Of course seeing as the blood was his own it would stand to reason that part of him was in the blood, just as the blood was part of him he was part of it. But there was something else, someone else, and as he watched the blood shimmered in the light, seeming not a deep red anymore but a bright gold, the colors mixed and rained back down, or rather funneled back down into his chest.

His gold eyes blazed a blinding light and he looked at the blade coming back down for the final blow, and with a single finger on the apparently slow moving blade he stopped it, holding it in place without even allowing his arm to move or even the finger to bend. Marduk’s eyes widened in surprise, fear and something else, some sort of reverence. Dan looked slowly over at the blade, suspended by his finger, and watched as the simple touch of it caused the blade to crack in places, and then shatter, creating a force that blew Marduk back with such a force he landed on his back some twenty feet away.

“So I have lost.” he called out, both solemn and glad at the same time. Dan and the others started fading, leaving victorious, and then something happened that Marduk never expected, he to started fading. “How, I lost the trial of strength, I was not worth enough...” Dan walked over to him and offered a ghostly hand, pulling the god to his feet.

“Sometimes,” he smiled, “It takes much more strength to lose and learn from it then it does to win.” he smiled one last time to the awestruck god before they all faded.