"This is inconvenient, isn't it grandfather?" I ask his corpse. Well, to be truthful, I ask the pieces of his corpse that lie scattered around the inside of the tomb. I kick aside a leg bone, sending it clattering across the floor.

I examine the door again. It's smooth, perfectly cut to fit right into its hole in the wall. It's mortared from the outside, and no matter how I try to insert my claws in the groove, the seal remains intact.

I shake my hands, dislodging a stubborn bit of my grandfather that wouldn't come off.

With a sigh, I sit on the stone altar and take out my flask. Nateos sent me here for a reason. Patience.

---

I search through the cemetery, Momo and Mishu with me. I am spending the first day of the New Year searching the cemetery for anyone hiding amongst the dead. Momo seems to think that some children are here, too afraid to come out from their hidey-holes.

Everyone is afraid.

No one feels safe in the city. Grief is heavy enough that I am only awake for a few hours a day at a time before I have to sleep again. My skin is wrinkled from the amount of time I have spent in the pool.

Six of the Recondites died that terrible night. They are entombed in the mausoleum. Belen had his warriors... gods, they're his warriors now... hack at the hedgerow until a free path was opened between War and Death.

We built a gate at the entrance to Death, but the neighborhood is empty, anyway. Everyone has fled to War. They feel safer behind the wall of flesh and bone of warriors.

The Mother temple sent word. They do not wish to be involved in this war. They are locked behind their gates and walls, hiding.

I gave our gold and gemstones to Belen. He is spreading the wealth amongst our allies. After that night I know that war is inevitable. No bribe will stop the First House from their path.

Mishu lets out a little bark of surprised joy, followed immediately by a coo of worry.

I hurry over. "Meesh? What is it?" Pulling away the brambles of a low raspberry bush, I find Tafia.

"Taffy!" I fall to my knees next to the female. Her eyes are closed, barely able to open on me. She is thinner than I ever thought she could be. Her skin is cold to the touch. Gaunt, worse than when I first met her. Her skin is dirty, with sores and bruises that will never heal if she stays hidden in the dirty cemetery.

Take her to the pool

My father's voice is faint. This war is taking its toll on even the god. I wish I could embrace him. Sometimes it's not advantageous to have parents who are in another realm.

"Let's go, Tafia. Come with me. Come on," I whisper in her ear as I haul her to her feet.

"Mara," she sighs. She stands, swaying, before crumpling onto me.

I walk, stumbling, calling out for help. Postite Antin and a Recondite I don't recognize respond. The Recondite doesn't say a word, just scoops Tafia up into his arms and starts to follow me as I run into the temple.

He stops short in the doorway to my father's sacred pool.

"Come inside. She needs to bathe in the pool," I tell him.

His face pales dramatically. Slowly, he takes one step and turns green.

"You have permission to enter, Recondite," I say quietly.

"Death is watching me," he responds, but forces his body to move forward. He sets Tafia at the edge of the pool, offers me a bow, then hurries out of the room just fast enough to not lose dignity.

"I will be in the hallway when you are finished, Lady Grief."

Mishu snickers at his back, but when the gargoyle turns back to Tafia he coos sadly. "Taaafffeee?"

"Help me get her into the pool, Meesh."

He and Harku pull her in. Harku removes her robes with his clawed fingertips, clucking in disapproval at the condition of her robes.

I don't look at her clothing, I'm too concerned about how delicate she looks. She's still too heavy for me to carry easily, so I wrap my arms around her and just let us float in the water.

She sighs, her arms tightening around my neck. "Mara? Sera... she's gone. Her family came to our house, that day... before that night... They took her. She told me to wait... wait for her... Then the mob... and I hid. She's not back... She would have found me... Where is she?"

"I don't know, Tafia. The First House is at war with us, and Thelios," I choke on his name, "he is gone. Taken by that House. I don't... I don't know what is happening and my father doesn't either. Or, he won't tell me."

"I'm such a coward," she says quietly.

"No, you're not," I respond instantly.

"Yes, I am. My cat was my strength and now that she's gone I'm just a coward."

"Tafia... strength isn't just holding a sword or being able to shift," I say, thinking of the slaughtered Acera. The Euphrates is swollen with corpses, a literal river of the dead. Is genocide a demonstration of strength? The First House seems to think so, but I will show them what their strength has earned; a bloody death and a long walk to their doomed eternity in my father's kingdom.

"That's what I want, Mara. I want to be strong, like the Recondites. Like Sera. She's been trained and even with her demon hidden away she's so strong."

"Then you need to eat and recover, Tafia. So that you can train and be strong."

"Do you think I can do it?"

"Yes," I say firmly. "You can. I'll help you."

I call the Recondite back and he helps me bring Tafia to my rooms. Dressed in my grey dress, she eats enough to satisfy me, then curls up in bed.

"Auntie Taffy?" Poppy smiles at my friend and climbs up next to her. "Story," she demands, then pops her fingers in her mouth. Thelios was trying to stop her from doing that... I force my mind away from him, again.

"Alright, little flower. What would you like to hear about?" Tafia says to her.

"Mama," Poppy responds.

Tafia laughs, a little weakly, then starts telling her story, of a little female bearing a magical knife who cries tears of acid. I battle demon ghosts and I always win. Of course, in this story I live in a beautiful palace in a magical kingdom in a shining city with fountains that flow with the elixir of life and streets paved with gold and silver and bronze. No one is starving or scared in this kingdom.

"I live there too?" Poppy asks sleepily.

"Yes, of course, you're the princess."

"I get a crown?"

"Seven crowns. One for each day of the week."

I wait until they've both fallen asleep, then I slip away to the library. I'm no warrior. This is my weapon, my knowledge. The urgency to learn more and more is pressing on my shoulders.

Alnue is waiting for me, his ears drooping in exhaustion. Carefully, he fills the wine with something and hands it to me. He looks agitated and I know without asking that he just used the last of the liquid in his little flask.

I have no idea if he has more or where he got it from. We have food in the temple, but I fear that starvation looms in my future.

I read late into the night, before I wander back to the Sacred pool. The water level of my pool is the same, always the same, no matter how many jugs we fill.

"Father," I whisper, staring up into Nateos' visage. "I've been betrayed by Love and forsaken by the Mother. Why have they betrayed me? It hurts so deeply," I whimper.

My daughter.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. I am sorry. Who am I to sob and wail over the lost love of fickle goddesses when Death himself has claimed me as his own daughter?

"I just want my male," I tell my father sadly. Leaning over I cup some water in my hands, splashing my face to wash away the tears.

You will have everything my daughter

You are my Princess

I will give you the world

And a male if you insist

I rise to my feet, smiling at the statue. I think, perhaps, that Nateos' is a romantic.

"Your son," the pretty lady, my brother's wife, brings a small child to the side of the bed that I have been trapped in for two weeks. He stares up at me with the lady's blue eyes, blinking at me with no recognition.

It is mutual. I feel nothing for this child. My connection to him is tenuous, at best. He is my brother's child, I suppose. My twin's son. I am his uncle.

That's all I'll be to him. I don't need children in my warped, desolate life. There is nothing good in me to offer to an innocent baby.

"And, um, our daughter," the lady shows me the baby, still in arms, a newborn, if I knew anything about babies, which I don't.

There is nothing there. A hole in my icy heart leaks. I would like it if I had a connection to this creature. A daughter. Maybe I can offer something to a child, but not this one. "That is not my child," I say in a low voice.

The lady's face pales. She draws back, taking her baby with her. I can hear whispers as she hurriedly hands her baby to a waiting servant who immediately bustles the little female away.

The lady returns to my bedside, hands fluttering. "You're confused, darling. It's to be expected. Your wounds..." she sucks in a deep breath, tears glittering on her lashes. "We lost you for so long," she says quietly.

I scowl. Love told me her little delusional tale then vanished. I have no idea what this lady is thinking. I don't even know her name.

"How long?" I snap.

She blinks away tears. "Ten months," she whispers.

I let out a short bark of laughter. "Then the baby is definitely not mine, is she? Do not lie to me, madam. I am not that much of a fool." Bitterness twists in my heart. I won't be tricked into believing that my brother's false child is mine.

I can't lie to myself. I am a fool. I have somehow been tricked into being here. I am finally, I think, in the land of the living and I am only now able to even rise from this bed. My entire life in the above consists of this thick, overstuffed mattress with silver tassels and piles of fur blankets. I have spent hours examining the carvings of the father god on the bedposts. The mosaic on the wall opposite the bed features small yellow birds bathing in a stone tub with pebbles every so often that may be real gold. All along the mosaic is green and blue ivy curling all the way to the doorway. Other than that bit of tile, the rest of the walls are draped in fine fabrics to ward off the winter chill.

I hate this room. It is stifling but cold. Can nothing with this lady be simple and charming? She is flaunting her wealth in her private bedroom and it makes me gag with distaste. After all, I'm certainly not the only male to grace this bed, am I?

"You've been ill for weeks, darling. You're confused," she says tearfully, wringing her hands together as she walks back over to me.

"Be very careful, madam, what you say to me."

She nods, a stubborn glint in her eyes. "Let me massage your leg, husband," she reaches for the thin blanket that covers me and pulls it away.

My leg is a mess. Foul and still oozing blood in places. Her hands press on the sides of the wound where the muscle is still whole. It hurts like a bitch, but I grit my teeth and bare it. The sooner I recover fully the better.

She smiles sweetly. "I'm sorry, Thane. I just... it's been so difficult here, without you. You were gone, then to find that the Death temple was imprisoning you..." her voice trails off.

I raise and eyebrow. Nateos, huh? What is the wily god up to now? "The Death temple?" I ask. It makes sense that my missing memories of the last near-year are caused by the god of the Underworld. Who amongst mortals could possibly keep me prisoner?

"Yes. You must get well, husband," she says with an odd gleam in her eyes. "You must recover for the war. Just look at what the Death temple and War has done to you."

My wings. I settle back on the pillows with a smile. A war? Now that sounds exciting. "When do we attack?"

"As soon as you are on your feet."

She continues to touch me, her hands feeling like ice on my flesh. After a while I see her glancing at my flaccid cock. I smirk, "disappointed?" I ask her.

She blushes red, her eyes darting to her lap, her hands falling away from my leg. "You are recovering," she makes an excuse for me.

I sit up with little difficulty despite my back protesting the movement. Getting as close as I can to her face I say softly, "You are an adultress, madam. You leave me cold."

She flees from the bedroom in tears. I lean back, and think of war and warmth.

---

Run

My slippered feet slap the floor as I hurry through the halls of Death's temple, Poppy clutched in my arms and the gargoyles, all five of them, clattering across stone with me. Tafia is limping behind me, going as fast as she can on legs that are still weak.

Hurry daughter

Where do I go? What is happening? The shadows of the two Fourth House males flit across the walls and floor, racing with me. It was their sudden agitation that woke up Poppy. Her screams woke me up.

I don't know what's wrong, but something terrible is happening. I can feel it, my soul can feel it.

"Mama?" Poppy whimpers in my arms.

"Shh, poppet. We just need to grab some things and then we can run and hide like grandfather says, alright?"

"Alright," she says, before popping her fingers into her mouth.

I rush into the library. The clay jar with the hearts of my two shadows still rests on the table. Scrolls and etchings are left just the way I last had them. I set Poppy down so that I can grab the jar and shove it into the bag on my hip. Alnue is gathering up the scrolls, secreting them away in their hidey-holes and rolling a few to take with us.

"Postite, what is happening?"

Postite Farso joins my frantic packing, setting his own bags stuffed with his things on the floor. "The Mother District is overrun. The Recondites think that most of the district sailed south down the river to the villages. Maybe... maybe even before that night."

I shudder. South down the river? Did they escape that night, only to watch as bloated corpses floated their way?

"Take these, Postite. Do you have blankets in there?" I say in a rush. If the Mother district is overrun, then we are just that more vulnerable here. There are many entry points between the two districts. We can't defend ourselves here.

"Blankets, a sewing kit, some extra shoes and clothes," he babbles, tears of fear pricking his eyes.

Alnue hands me the last scroll and shrieks shrilly, pointing and gesturing to the south, to the Mother District.

"Let's go. Hurry."

Mishu and Mushu come scrambling up with a huffing Banio behind them. Two other Postites, Antin and Eshir, are further back. Their arms are laden with food.

"Where is Patriarch Salbin?" I gasp out.

"He won't leave, Mara. He says that it's his duty to stay, to try and stop the attackers from coming inside the temple."

I swallow my tears. The attackers. The First House is attacking us. The Recondites are facing them in the streets just beyond the temple in War. We are helpless here, with nothing and no one left to protect us.

Hide Daughter

I pick up Poppy again and run into the back gardens with the Postites and gargoyles following me. Down the hill, I race through the maze of statuary and gravestones, past the House mausoleums, towards the hedgerow.

We'll hide in there, in the mausoleum of the Recondites. We'll be safe there and when Belen returns he can tell us what is happening out there. In any case, it is the last place anyone will search for the missing Postites and Priestess of Death.

"Through here," I tell the Postites. The hole in the hedgerow is scarcely large enough for us to fit through. Banio has an especially hard time, but the fear that spurs us all on makes him ignore the scratches and force himself through.

"In here," I whisper. We run into the mausoleum and I slam the doors shut. Heavy bolts swing into place, and Antin and Farso slam the metal lock into place.

The interior is nothing but silent shadows. We don't light the torches for fear that they'll be seen by enemies. Everything is quiet as we wrap ourselves in blankets.

I hold Poppy in my lap as she whispers to me, "where's Papa?"

I hold back my tears, barely. I don't know.