“Aw c’mon, ya must be fuckin’ bored just sittin’ there,” Vera yelled at Killian. “Come and let me out of these chains, I promise I’ll bite’cha with all I’ve got!”

  “No,” Killian chuckled. “Stay in that cage like the animal you are. Beg more. It will only make it more satisfying when the king comes and puts you down like vermin.”

  “Scared of a little hybrid?” Snow joined in. “The fabled Blood Swordsman, scared of a little fox!”

  Killian’s large blade slipped through the bars and poked Snow’s throat. “The king shan’t care if I put down one of the rats before he comes. Another word and I’ll cut your head off from out here. I’ll drag it out and fuck it while the others watch.”

  “Such a charmer, aren’t you darling?” Beion snickered. “But we all know you won’t do a thing to us. Be a good doggy and take that sword away, you wouldn’t want the king to punish you, would you, hm?”

  “Laugh all you want, the king shall make me the execution, that much I am certain. You will look up at me when I bring this sword down on your necks, and all you’ll be able to do is weep.”

  “You’ll be dead by the storm’s passing,” Death threatened. “Whether it be from me, my companions, or perhaps fate itself… your ending chapter grows closer, darkness comes.”

  Killian noted Death’s red eyes, grunting in curiosity. While not a completely uncommon colour, the shade of Death’s eyes was only seen in four forms: hybrids, royalty, demons, and gods. Killian didn’t know which one he was, but it was the first time he’d really noticed their crimson shine—he thought it was a trick, an odd shade of brown or maybe even orange. He typically never put much thought into things that disinterested him, but it explained Death’s unusual confidence in both his voice and actions.

  “Lost dogs should be put to the sword,” Killian huffed. “You’ve been nothing but pests, swarming Vatanil like flies to shit. Maybe I will convince the king to let your execution to be combat. I’d love to rough up some pretty faces and crush some strong wills.”

  “You couldn’t kill him if you tried!” Snow boasted. “He’s gonna kick your ass! I’m gonna kick your ass! Just wait and see.”

  Those Sentinels are really screaming, Death thought. I hear the voices screaming dragons even from down here. Something must be happening outside these dungeons… I wonder if Prince Stroke has something to do with it.

  A scream and the clashing of metal came from the spiralled stairs at the corner of the dungeon. The corpse of a Valan Guard tumbled to the bottom step, neck snapped, bleeding from the eyes and nose. Killian was unimpressed, not bothering to raise his sword towards the calm footsteps descending the steps.

  “The Sentinels sense your hidden fear,” a voice sang. “You took Runaya’s life. You don’t do anything that isn’t commanded of you. I don’t blame you. Kneel, dog, and yield your fealty to me for the rest of your pitiful life.”

  “Prince Stroke?” Killian asked. He was puzzled by the sudden appearance of the youngest Valan brother. He grew even more perplexed upon seeing his confident stride, his face filled with tiny cuts, now clear of glass, and of course, the God Arm glowing on his arm with more runes and symbols than Harren ever had.

  “Shit, that’s the prince!” Vera squealed. “We’re saved! Gods, I never thought I’d be so happy to see a Valan.”

  “I know you,” Stroke mumbled. “Years ago. You should have a scar on your back from my strike. I let you go.”

  “Pshh, you let me go? I outran you, sucker.”

  “I watched you on the Sentinels. You’re not a very fast runner. Are you with Death? If so, I pardon you of your bounty.”

  “Well, aren’t you a darling,” Beion chuckled. “Our dear Death told us you had an alliance. Are you here to help?”

  “An alliance?” Killian boomed. “Are you mad?”

  Stroke shushed them all, humming with his eyes closed and moving a finger to a rhythm only he could hear.

  “Is he alright?” Snow whispered. “Is he… is he daydreaming?”

  “I’m quite fine,” Stroke assured. “Harren is dead. I killed him. Dog, you take orders from me now.”

  Killian didn’t affirm his loyalty, and Stroke punished his silence with a punch to his jaw, not strengthened by the God Arm. He gave the same order—fealty. Killian knelt, offering his sword, a smirk hidden on his lips from the news that Harren was no longer living.

  “Who did you used to take orders from?” Stroke said.

  “Captain Zishang, my prince.”

  “Zishang shall be dead soon. Who do you take orders from now? Answer correct, or it may be the last thing you do.”

  “I belong to you, my prince,” he muttered. “My service and my sword are yours. What is your command?”

  “King,” Stroke corrected. “My brother Godwin shall be dead soon. He has no children, that makes me the lone heir of Vatanil. I’ll have a command for you soon dog. Stay silent until I give you a task or Runaya says I am to crush you into a cube. Ah, yes, apologies—Runaya, dog, she says fuck you, and that those arrows hurt.”

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  “My… king?”

  “What did I say, hm? A cube. Don’t speak.”

  “Death, are you sure this is the right person to rely on? He seems a little… y’know…” Snow went cross-eyed, sticking out her tongue and making the sound of a dying mule.

  “I can hear you,” Stroke said flatly. “Honesty is the root of all friendships. I was going to kill you all when I first heard my love was dead… she used her voice to change my mind. You are my only allies I have now, that is what she says, that is what my new gods say in their whispering songs.”

  “Uh oh, he seems a little mad,” Vera snickered. “But hey, if the choice is waiting here for Godwin to execute us, or take our chances with Prince Loopy, I know my fuckin’ choice.”

  “What is our deal now?” Death asked. “I’m not a servant. My companions are not slaves, perhaps the fox is negotiable.”

  “Fuck you!” Vera tried to kick him. “I’m not for sale!”

  “You wouldn’t fetch a high price anyway darling,” Beion said. “If we’re bidding for the hybrid, I’ll place the first bid.”

  “Enough!” Death shouted in a serious tone. “This is not a game. This is life or death now. You want something in return for our freedom from this cell, what is it?”

  Stroke was silent for a long time. He gazed emptily into a wall, shushing everyone else’s attempts to speak. “Nothing,” he managed. “If you want to leave Vatanil, you may. I won’t chase. I won’t hold a grudge. You will be welcome back under my rule whenever you see fit.”

  “And if we didn’t leave?” Snow asked.

  “I’ll make my intentions clear,” Stroke said. “I don’t know any of you well. You don’t know me other. All I know is that I need new friends for my new world, ones that aren’t tainted by power, ones that wish to see a world better for all. I will unite this world into something fresh, something pure.” His finger pointed to each of the prisoners one by one. “A demon, a hybrid, a human, a god.” He pointed the finger at himself. “A king.”

  “A god?” Vera squawked. “What makes you think Death is one of those, huh? You got some fuckin’ gift to see gods?”

  “He is a god,” Snow said. “A conqueror, my conqueror.”

  “Ignore the women,” Death sighed.

  “I sense your power, my new friend,” Stroke said. “I have seen it since the day you entered the city. The Sentinels. They are more than just weapons. Watchers. Libraries. They are sentient, and they whisper, a hive-mind of magic linked to my bloodline. They obey me, and they recognise blood, gifts, smells… they know every soul to some degree. Dating back to their creation, they have never failed in identifying blood. Even strangers, there would be traces. You, you have none. You confuse the Sentinels. Their memory of you is just… gone, like a ripped-out page. My brothers never grasped the true usage of the Sentinels; they could never see what I saw in you. You are a fallen god, I am certain. Your powers have been stolen, I can sense your anger; I know what it feels like to have everything taken from me. Am I wrong?”

  “You’re not,” Snow answered. “We accept your deal.”

  “The woman speaks for you?” Stroke asked.

  Death nodded. “She does.”

  “And she speaks for the rest of us,” Beion added. “If we’re going to decide as a group, then I’m in. What about you, sweet fox, fancy changing the world, do you?”

  Vera blushed and giggled.

  “Great then.” Stroke clapped slowly. “We shall be the best of friends, a partnership that will be remember for entirety. We shall be unstoppable.”

  “I have one demand,” Death said. “There are talks of a crystal in your family. One with a soul stuck inside of it. I want it.”

  “Have it. I know what you’re mentioning, and I know where it is. Hidden in Godwin’s chambers. Once we’re done, it’s yours.”

  Death accepted this.

  Stroke put a hand on the godsteel bars and melted the lock, then ripped open the clasps of their shackles.

  “Are we not gonna kill the big fucker?” Vera asked, pointing at Killian. “He’s the one who killed her! He’s the one who done it!”

  “I know,” Stroke said wistfully. “But the dog only does what the whistle commands. The weak hound follows the power. He has no free will, because he knows to close his ears is to die. Isn’t that right, dog? You betrayed all of your rebellious friends for your pitiful life. Servitude to my father. You are nothing. Say it, dog.”

  “I am nothing, my king,” Killian forced. “I serve.”

  “What a pussy,” Snow snickered. “The Blood Swordsman is such a cool name, wasted on you. Maybe I’ll take your gifts and take the name for myself.”

  Stroke ripped the godsteel chains from the wall and forced them into Killian’s hands. “You will need these. I have a task for you. One roams the hallways, the other is sealed in Godwin’s chambers. Bring them to the front of the courtyard, keep them close. They shall be my first of many gifts to this horrible city.”

  “Yes, my king,” Killian whimpered.

  “What are you staring at?” Snow asked Stroke. “What’s over there? Hello? This fucker is ignoring me.”

  “He must love that corner,” Vera joked.

  Death got the prince’s attention by clicking his fingers in front of his eyes. Stroke lost focus, leaning on the wall with a grip firm on his new friend’s shoulder to stay standing. “I’m fine,” the prince claimed. “The singing is just loud. You don’t see the people? The shadows, dancing, waving, wide smiles.” He pointed at the empty corner, a single smashed crate decorating it. “See? They look like they’re behind glass. They’re mocking me.”

  Death entered a whisper and brought the conversation close to Stroke’s ear. “A moment alone with you,” he demanded.

  The two found an empty cell and left the door ajar.

  “Are you well?” Death whispered. “You speak like a mad man. Shadows? Ghosts? What ails you.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Stoke said flatly. “I’m fine.”

  “Are we truly allies?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I will tell you this. I have an odd ability to sense souls. I can see yours is bleeding, swelled to the size of two. Just as I have a soul tethered to mine, one seems to have linked to yours—how or why, I can not tell you.”

  The prince’s eyes quickly swelled with brave tears. “Is it her? Is it my Runaya?”

  “I can not say for sure, but your hallucinations must be linked to it. It is this only explanation.”

  “Harren heard it,” he said thickly. “I’m not insane. He heard her voice just like I did. She is real, floating. And I will save her.”

  This alliance may be a short one, Death thought. If he cannot see his own madness, he can’t be trusted. He was true to his word and freed us, but I don’t know if he has any other motives.

  “Let us go then,” Stroke continued. “We have a city to bring to heel. Runaya says I must start before Godwin returns.”