“Greetings, my lovely citizens and plebs, and welcome to another episode of LadyAstair’s travel vlog! As you can see, we’re out of the Amazon and we’re-” I froze. All I could do was stare at the camera lens.

With a deep breath, I reached for the camera and closed it, the bright red record light fading into oblivion. That’s, what, the fifth take I’ve ruined today?

I laid on bed, staring at the chandelier lit in artificial sunlight. My eyes began to water, but I willed them open. Every time they closed; I saw things that I would rather not see. Not again.

THUD THUD THUD.

Arrhythmic pounding woke me from my reverie. The blows that landed on my door held so much force that I swore I could hear the wood creaking in disapproval.

“Oi, food’s on!” Tabitha said, her voice muffled by her constant attack on my poor door.

I stood up, smoothed my hoodie, and answered the door.

“You look like shite, mate.” Tabitha said.

“Good morning to you too, Tabitha.” I said, not even bothering to look at her.

“It’s noon.”

“Is it now? I didn’t notice.” I said. Tabitha looked me over, and then shrugged.

“Anyway, it’s lunch time, let’s go for a bite, yeah?”

“I’m a goddess, Tabitha. I don’t need to eat.”

“Well, I also didn’t need to spend an hour preparing food, but I did. You wouldn’t want my hospitality to go to waste, yeah?” she said. I looked at her through bleary eyes. By the seven hills, I do not have the strength.

“Fine, lead the way.”

*

“Mistress Luna, to have you join us is a pleasure.” said Junogloris, seated at a bench much too small for him. I began to return his greeting, only to stop when I saw him.

Junogloris was currently swaddled in the blankets we left him in, covering his massive body in what I can only assume is an attempt at making a toga. A poor attempt at that, the multitude of sheets bunching up along his shoulders while leaving uncovered things that should be kept hidden in polite company. Or any company at all. Coupled with how he gingerly sat at a bench clearly too small for him, and Junogloris looked less like a hero of legend and more like an extra in a college comedy.

“Is something the matter?” Junogloris said, seemingly oblivious to how ridiculous he looked. Tabitha simply sighed.

“Look mate, I tried to tell him. But he was all, ‘I would never wear these barbarian garments’ this, and ‘cease your savage prattling’ that…”

“My current attire draws its lineage from the long and proud tradition of our great empire.” Junogloris said, his head held high. “Though the material is… lacking, I have no doubt in my mind that Mistress Luna and I are of the same mind as to the superiority of this over your barbarian cloth.”

Tabitha glanced at me, looked me over, staring pointedly at my hoodie and pants. Then her gaze returned to Junogloris, daring him to make a sound.

“Well, what do you say, Mistress Luna?” Tabitha said, rolling her Rs almost as much she rolled her eyes, “Want me to whip you up a toga from some blankets too?”

I looked at her with as much weariness as I could muster. She grinned at me, that same grin that she always had when she thinks she’s won.

“Can we not? Right now?” I said, as I took my seat.

“Indeed. Mistress Luna has no need for a toga. Women of her stature would wear a stola-”

“Junogloris.”

“Oh, pardon me.” Junogloris said. “The Lady of War would, of course, settle for no less than a full lorica-”

“Tabitha, can we have some of that food now? Please?” I said. Tabitha, for her part, was barely holding back her laughter.

“Ha! Sure thing. Bear in mind, this is going to be barbarian cuisine, yeah? You sure your imperial sensibilities can-”

“I’m leaving.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

*

The rich smell of beef wafted from the cast iron pot in front of us. The silvery tendrils of smoke caused mouths to water wherever it went, a promise of a culinary experience that was the height of decadence. The rich, savoury sauce, whose thickness spoke of hours of expert ministration, glistened off of perfectly seared chunks of meat. Meat which looked so tender that it felt as though even a mere gust of wind would tear it apart. Chunks of carrot and onion, crudely cut, gifted their aroma to the already intoxicating steam, and promised to do the same for the stew’s flavour.

In front of us, in all its simple, yet extravagant glory, was beef bourguignon.

“Well, go ahead. Dig in.” Tabitha said, as she handed me a plate with a simple foil wrapped baked potato. Junogloris looked at the stew, no doubt refusing to believe that Gallian cuisine would ever compare to that of the Empire, even as all of his senses made convincing cases otherwise. For my part, I ladled a generous portion for myself, and took a bite.

Flavours exploded inside my mouth. Every time my teeth sunk into the meat, juices flowed freely, the savoury notes dancing delightfully upon my tongue. The red wine sauce was cooked to perfection, each bite of meat and vegetable seemed to drown out all sensation but taste. The interplay of the stinging sweetness of onions, the aromatic flavour of carrot that satisfied both taste and smell simultaneously, and the heavenly tenderness of the meat was all too much. It was as if someone had plucked the Ideal of Decadence from the Thoughtstream, and served it to us.

“I’d ask if you liked it, but seems as though I don’t have to, yeah?” Tabitha said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she gestured at my plate. The plate that, with the exemption of a few streaks of deep burgundy, was utterly cleaned out. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, even Junogloris was looking away, his plate similarly ravaged.

I met Tabitha’s eyes. I couldn’t have her lord this over me. She already had too much. I can’t let her-

Tabitha’s exposed bones. Blood flowing freely as her teeth shattered under the weight of her pain.

“Figure it out yourself, yeah?”

I couldn’t meet her gaze. Tabitha’s head tilted quizzically.

“Thank you.” I said.

“What was that?”

“I said, thank you. This meal was delicious.” I said, as I ladled another serving unto my plate.

Tabitha’s grin lost some of its playfulness. I saw her study me, her sharp eyes stripping me bare.

“You’re welcome.” she said in measured tones. For a moment, it seemed as though she was about to say more. But then the levity returned to her face.

“Best eat up, mate. You’ll need that energy for later.”

*

“Right, let’s talk plans.” Tabitha said, as a large screen began to descend from the ceiling. We were no longer in the cafeteria, rather we were in what Tabitha called, the “War Room.” A rather ostentatious name for a room with just a circular conference table, a world map, and assorted projectors and screens all connected to a desktop whose enormous, boxy CPU spoke of both the system’s age and utility. Truth be told, I had wanted to discuss our next steps in the cafeteria to save time, but Tabitha had insisted. Apparently, she barely got to use the War Room, as it were.

“First things first, supplies.” Tabitha reached into her coat and pulled out a sheet of paper. “As you all know, I’ve recently run out of elixir, fighting the angels-”

“Messengers.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t call them angels. Call them messengers.” I said. Tabitha’s brow furrowed as she looked at me.

“You having a laugh, mate?”

“No. We’re not calling the messengers of El angels. Not while I’m here.” I said. Tabitha sighed deeply.

“Look mate, I didn’t go around forcing you to, say, call me La Belle Mercenaire whenever you called me a warrior, yeah? Why not just stick with angel?”

“La Belle.” I scoffed at that. “As if I’d ever…” Hold on. The implication behind her words finally hit me.

“Wait, you’re Gallian?” Tabitha simply looked at me like I had said something exceptionally foolish.

“No mate. The only reason I’ve been speaking French this entire time was because I felt like it, yeah?” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “Of course I’m bloody French, you twat. You thick or something?”

Oh. Oh dear. This is quite the embarrassment.

“I… haven’t actually been hearing French…” I said, the heat in my cheeks unbearable.

“Come again?”

“The divinity are beings birthed from pure thought, savage.” Junogloris said, folding his arms. “As such, we intrinsically understand all forms of human speech, and they, us. When we hear barbarians prattle in their nonsense, it is automatically translated for us into a more civilized tongue, though the translation does preserve the idiosyncrasies of the speaker. As such, for both me and Mistress Luna, you speak not the savage language of the Gauls. Rather, Latin, though of a more plebeian dialect than Miss-”

“I’ve been hearing English this entire time.” I said, my cheeks redder than ever.

“Mistress Luna?!”

“And I’ve been speaking English as well. I haven’t actually spoken Latin in several centuries.” I said, my voice a barely audible murmur. Junogloris’s eyes looked like they were about to pop from their sockets.

“And I’ve been suppressing the auto translating part of my speech for several years now.” Couldn’t have my audience hear different languages for different people on stream after all, I’d have instantly blown my cover.

Silence followed. The only thing that I could hear was Tabitha, her pursed lips doing nothing to stop her from giggling.

“Sooo…” Tabitha said, sliding up to me. “You were able to hear French when I said La Belle, yeah?”

“It translates intent, not actual speech.” I said. “And proper nouns almost never get translated in full, unless you think of it in terms of the word it translates to, not in terms of it being a name for something. And even then there are exceptions.”

“It’s the reason I’ve never heard you call yourself Unconquered Moon yeah?” she said. “So what do I sound like in English? Probably like someone from New York, eh?”

“Brittanian, actually.” I said. Tabitha’s smile disappeared, and I delivered one final barb, “Working class, to be precise.”

“Oh now that’s just bloody perfect, ain’t it?” Tabitha sat down in a huff. “Of all the things to sound like, it had to be British, yeah? It’s ‘cause my accent’s not Parisian, ain’t it?”

“That’s what got to you?”

“Nothing wrong with sounding working class, mate.” she said with a shrug.

“If we could return to the matter at hand…” I heard Junogloris murmur.

“Agreed. Let us never speak of this again.” I said. Tabitha grinned at us; I had a feeling she was about to completely ignore me. I decided to get ahead of that.

“The reason I want you to call them messengers is that the word ‘angel’ has evolved to imply benevolence.” I said. “Benefactors from heaven. The absolute good, slayers of all that are evil. All that utter bullshit.” I looked over at Junogloris, who was now staring at the ground. He was trying his best to hide it, but I could still see his shoulders shaking, the nervous clenching and unclenching of his hands.

“They took everything from me, Tabitha. Them and El. And I would die before I think of those thrice damned things as anything other than the monsters that they are.”

Tabitha looked at the both of us, her ever present toothy grin nowhere to be found. She sighed deeply.

“Fine. Messenger it is.” she said.

“Thank you.” I said. Tabitha simply clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Where were we again? Right, plans.” Tabitha picked up the sheet and began to look over it. “As I was saying, we really need to go for a resupply ASAP. Home base is just a few days away-”

“Unacceptable.” I said.

“Is that right? Do tell.” Tabitha said.

“We can’t afford to lose days to a detour, Tabitha.” I said. “This Lacan, he’s obviously after the same thing we are, and he both has an army, and a much quicker way of moving about than we do. We’re at enough of a disadvantage as is. I suggest we move towards the next faith anomaly before the messengers do.”

“Look mate, in case you haven’t noticed, we barely got out by the skin of our teeth, yeah?”

“And whose fault was that again?”

“Fair.” Tabitha crossed her arms at me, tried to stare me down. “Right, how about when the two of you tried to take me down? Or when Silencer nearly ended your little quest? Face it, Luna. Rushing this? Might as well kill yourself now, save us all the trouble, yeah?”

“Mistress Luna. Though it pains me deeply. I find myself in agreement with the savage.” Junogloris said. “We may have crossed that proverbial river, but our path forward is still ours to make. Let us make our course a wise one, shall we?”

Two against one. But I couldn’t lose. Not with so much at stake.

“You don’t understand. The anomalies are too far apart. If we don’t chart a course as efficiently and as quickly as possible-”

“Hold on a second, yeah?” Tabitha said even as she rummaged within her coat. When her hand emerged from that impossible depth, it was clutching a small sphere, barely larger than a fingernail. One which was simultaneously glossy, but at the same time seemed so dark that staring at it seemed to drain all light from within this room.

She threw it at me, and I barely had time to catch it in me hand. It felt cool, light. But no sooner had I caught it that an immense pressure within my head, like my mind was being crushed by a vise. It felt as if my thoughts were being drawn in, siphoned into the depths of this thing.

“Just focus on the memory of what you saw when you plunged into the Thoughtstream, yeah?” she said, and I proceeded to do just that, it was all I focus on, a purpose to hold on to, even as the sphere threatened to consume all cognition.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but fighting the pull of this sphere made it seem like an eternity. Eventually, the orb was surrounded in green light, it slowly floated away, drifting to the centre of the room.

Then a beam of light burst from within that floating orb, so blinding that it shone brighter than even the florescent lighting of the War Room.

In the middle of the room, projected into our table, was a map of the world, reproduced exactly from my memories. And on that map glowed a network of bright dots, some large, some small, some barely visible, others as bright as the sun. Each connected to the other, creating a giant web of will that covered the globe in its entirety. The Thoughtstream.

Tabitha hurriedly grabbed the world map from the wall and laid it on the table, the image from the sphere acting as an overlay. She took a pen, and began to make marks on the anomalies, places where the fires of faith blazed brightly where they shouldn’t.

“So, the Amazon Rainforest, the Great Victoria Desert in Australia, an island of the coast of Greenland, the middle of Antarctica, The Himalayas, and… Hold on, what’s this?” Tabitha asked, pointing at a region in the ocean that was bereft of even the faintest glimmer of light.

“That’s nothing.” I said. “Or even if it’s something, it’s irrelevant, we’re looking for places with too much faith, not too little.”

“Fair.” Tabitha still marked it on her map, probably for when we’ve finished our partnership. I silently apologize for who or what might have made that region their sanctuary.

“So the final anomaly is… Well now.” Tabitha’s eyes lit up. “You sure this is right? Off the coast of Madagascar?”

“Yes?” I said.

“Around seventeen degrees south, fifty-six degrees east?”

“I don’t know, probably? Is this going somewhere?”

“Mate, you’re in luck. That’s where my home base is at. We could do a supply run, and cross an anomaly off of your list, yeah? Sound good?”

“Or, we could immediately discount that, and move on to the rest. I have no doubt that if you have the First God’s corpse, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

“Fair. Then how about this. I have something that’ll protect you from Lacan’s Proclamations, so you don’t keel over instantly when we meet him face to face.”

“But-”

“And, I’ll even throw in something else to sweeten the pot.” Tabitha said, drawing nearer to me, until all I could see was her wolfish grin.

“I’ll give you the Luna Gladius.” she said.

My eyes shoot wide open. I frantically searched Tabitha’s face for a sign, any sign, that she was bluffing.

“Impossible…” I heard myself murmur. My mouth was dry, and I could barely breathe. The Luna Gladius, the Sword of Conquest. Symbol of my authority. My true Regalia, lost since the battle for the New World… Did she really-

“You better believe I have it, Lulu.” Tabitha said, a cocky smile on her face. “Among other things. Lots of other things. My base is a bloody lighthouse in the Thoughtstream, ain’t it?”

“Why didn’t you-”

“Someone kept interrupting me, is why.” she said. She skipped over to the computer, and pressed a key. The screen in front of us blazed to life. And on it were hundreds upon hundreds of the greatest treasures known to my kind.

“My base is filled with all the relics I’ve taken from my kills. That a good enough reason for us to go?”