The road from Rajata City to Bahngol would not have taken long to cover even if they had been meandering on foot, nevermind racing at full speed on the back of their magical steed. They arrived by evening, the sun setting behind them and painting the world ahead in blissful twilight hues. As ever, once they were sure they were not being followed, the three decided, when it came to parading their divine familiar around in front of the general population, the less the better; drawing excess attention was the last thing they wanted to do right now. They dismounted on the outskirts of the coastal town, Livia stroking Danu’s mane and thanking her before dismissing her. Danu made a satisfied sigh before once again shedding her corporeal form, diffusing into a scattering cloud of white and gold light.

However, they would not be able to simply take in the serene sight in front of them for long. A rift opened just up ahead, and Phyrn came flying out of it, rolling across the ground. She came to a stop at Livia’s feet, looking up with her face scrunched up and her breathing sharp. The three immediately reached down to pick her up; her radiance dimmed and flickered, slowly regaining its strength with every breath Phyrn took. Her posture took a moment to righten itself, but she managed to get her breath back just in time for three more people to step out of that rift.

The first two were familiar; it was Rajata and Florentina. However, the third was new. He was tall, with short white hair and a connected beard and moustache, all giving off a faint, pale glow. His blue eyes also glowed, the same strong, rich, deep blue of his smart uniform. On his hip rested a silver saber in its glassy, translucent scabbard. That’s when Livia recognised him, and connected the dots, the colour draining from her face.

Emilie spoke before Livia could. “Fyren…”

“Stay your weapons,” Phyrn groaned. “Do not assume any hostile stance. Do not provoke him.”

“Wise words of caution.” Fyren’s voice was just as dignified as his appearance. He rested his hand on the hilt of his weapon, but made no move to draw it, just slowly marching towards the four before him with his two lovely ladies at his side. He stopped once he was close enough to speak without needing to raise his voice at all. “I had been concerned that finding you was going to be an arduous task, Phyrn. Thankfully, you are still as attached to your ephemeral followers as ever; thus you have been dragged out from the underbrush and into the light.”

“Weren’t you getting a little sick of hiding as well, Fyren?” Phyrn asked, genuinely, without a hint of spite. “It was time for us to return to our people, show them we still care, that we’re still here.”

“Truth be told, I have little care for what happens to this world. My fate is sealed, as is yours. It is high time we all accept it.”

“And what would your fate be, Fyren? After you’ve killed the nine people who were closest to you… what then?”

“Eight closest,” Rajata corrected. “And perhaps it’s not too late to bring that down to seven…” she snaked her arms around Fyren’s and looked up at him with big eyes. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

Fyren sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I grow weary of this farce. Florentina!”

The platinum elf perked up at the call of her name.

Fyren didn’t break eye contact with Phyrn. “Execute.”

She did as her master bid, drawing Godslayer and, in a flash that barely registered in the eyes of those watching, slipped the blade between Rajata’s ribs. Rajata’s face broke out into a twisted display of all the worst emotions, and she slowly craned her head to the side, looking into Florentina’s cool eyes. “You…? Of all people… did I truly have no one? Not even you?”

“Truly,” Florentina answered.

With that, Rajata’s heart broke, and the terrible power of Godslayer took hold, living up to its name. Rajata fell to the ground. Florentina didn’t retrieve the blade from the goddess of passion’s corpse; Godslayer, having fulfilled its purpose, withered into dust and blew away. Such a powerful enchantment could not be contained within a mortal-made blade after activation, so it destroyed itself.

Probably for the best, Livia thought.

“You deceived her!” Emilie cried, her voice not full of surprise, but of damnation. Though Rajata had betrayed her faith, the hierophant still felt her heart mourn.

“No,” Fyren shook his head, “she deceived herself. Not once did I ever agree to spare her life. She was simply… far too infatuated with herself.” He rested a foot on her head. “How we ever stood her company for so long…” a smile threatened to creep in from the corner of his mouth. “Of all the executions I must perform on this mission, this, I think, will be the only one I enjoy.”

“How many others?” Phyrn found herself asking. “How many so far? Tell me, damn you!”

“Hmm… let me think…” Fyren stroked his bearded chin. “Nativus… Narva… Zur… Mirim… D’Gora… and now Rajata. Six so far. Brightbrand, Ponima, and you left to go. Then I shall stand alone as the last of the Decakon.”

“And will you weep for any of us? Will you hold any remorse for what your duty asks of you?”

Fyren didn’t reply.

The distinguished elder of the Decakon turned his focus to Florentina. “You have served me well, young one. You shall have your reward, as promised.”

Florentina just bowed, and then, in a flash of light, disappeared.

“What the hell was that?” Krey interrogated.

“I have sent Florentina beyond the firmament. She now dwells in a different world… one where she can live out the rest of her life however she pleases. Her reward for helping in my plan to remove that particularly sharp thorn in my side.”

“But how?” Livia stepped forward. “We thought the firmament was frozen, that nothing could pass in or out of this world anymore.”

“This is true,” Fyren nodded, “but I yet hold some influence over that particular process. For the moment, I alone possess the ability to overcome the decay of the threshold, and that ability will not last forever. Once the petrification is completely set, even I will have no way of traversing the boundary.” This time, he really did smile, and the most unpleasant thing about it was that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Livia Sol Sasna… I know you have been searching for a way home. You are not of Berodyl… surely you understand that the conflicts of this world don’t inherently concern you. If you’d like, I can send you and your friends somewhere you’ll be safe, a place from where you can return home. My quarrel is not with you or your companions…” he pointed right at Phyrn. “It’s with her.”

Livia crossed her arms. “If your quarrel is with her, then it’s with me. Besides… I think I’ve made my peace.”

“And if you have quarrel with a ward of the goddess,” Emilie announced as she stepped forward, “then you have quarrel with me as well.”

Krey stepped forward too, slipping his shield onto his arm from his back, but leaving his sword in its sheath for now. “As a Knight Berodyl, it is my sworn purpose to protect all who walk this land… from its own gods if need be. My shield will break before we bargain with you.”

Fyren’s smile didn’t waver. “I shall give you time to think it over. We need not be so hasty.” His body was enveloped in light, and then he was gone.

The moment they were no longer in danger, Emilie ran over to Rajata’s body and knelt beside her. Immediately, however, she could tell it was too late; the red goddess’ glow had faded, her features no longer their rich red, but now a dull grey. Even her dress had faded in colour, as if it was a part of her… perhaps it was. For all her devotion, Emilie lamented her lack of understanding of the beings to which she had pledged her life. The others joined her; Livia and Krey put their hands on Emilie’s shoulders, while Phyrn placed a hand on Rajata, closing her eyes and focusing. From the soil sprouted midoroots, wrapping around the fallen goddess’ body and making her one with the earth.

Livia and Krey did not feel much for Rajata; to them, she had just been an enemy. Nevertheless, they allowed Phyrn and Emilie both a silent moment, for she had been a master to one and a friend to the other.

Phyrn managed to speak. “Despite everything… I still thought of her as family. Right up to the end. I couldn’t bring myself to kill her before… I hoped that, somehow, we’d still manage to find a way out of this without any more killing.”

“Six… six of this world’s blessed creators…” Emilie choked on her words. “Dead… it has to stop. We have to make it stop.”

Phyrn stood now, and offered Emilie a hand. “We will. Even if it should cost me my life.”

Emilie took the hand of her goddess. Phyrn blew away on wisps of light once again, and Emilie, Krey, and Livia walked together into the port town of Bahngol.