Okimoto was about to switch on the living room light when he noticed Aunt Yohanna right next to him. She was trying her best not to make a sound. He knew immediately what she was up to, as she had pranked him five nights ago when he returned from the wine merchant.

  She had screamed in his ear the moment he reached for the light switch, almost making him drop his precious bottle of histileria.

  He smirked, deviously.

  He burped in her face.

  “RANCID CHILD!” Aunt Yohanna sprang into the corner of the room like a startled bush cat, pinching her nose in disgust.

  “Auntie!” Okimoto gasped, switching on the light. “I’m sorry, I had no clue you were still awake. I’m delighted to inform you that I struck an awful deal with the Anthian patriarch.”

  “What do you mean?” She asked. “Did he agree to help you?”

  “Yes, but only after delivering a half-finished sprite to him, and I have until New Year's Eve to do so.”

  “We’ll discuss this later.” She said. “There’s something extremely urgent I have to speak with you about.”

  Okimoto raised an eyebrow.

  “They’re having a meeting at the cathedral on Partazia Street at the moment—the followers of Gillian.”

  “The god that died? What’s that got to do with me?”

  “Odiggan will be there, my friend is a highbishop and he said so. I think this gives us a wonderful opportunity.”

  “Why must the meeting be so late?” Madonnalisa moaned.

  Shutting the Cathedral doors behind her, her uncle said. “It's of utmost importance that this meeting be held in secret. That's all I know.”

  Hearing that made Madonnalisa groan. Her uncle had told Aunt Yohanna about the meeting in exchange for a half-empty bottle of Histileria he found while snooping in her fridge.

  Looking around, Modonnalisa saw only a few highbishops sitting around the place.

  At the foot of the altar, lay a figure covered completely by a white blanket. The chest could be seen rising up and down, showing it not to be a corpse. The Archbishop stood beside it, along with a mountain of a man wearing a black suit and hat.

  On the way to the altar, she spotted Odiggan sitting with a bird cage on his lap that housed the sprite within. She had become somewhat nervous when her uncle mentioned he’d be here with the creature in person.

  She turned her attention back to the altar, bowing to say, “Blessing to his h-“

  “-That won’t be necessary.” The Archbishop said, cutting her formality short.

  Looking at him, she saw only emptiness staring back at her.

  The huge man beside him let out a deep, thundering chuckle, an amused smile on his ogre-like face. He had long earlobes, so long they reached his shoulders, his nose was abnormally pointed, and his head seemed to be balled beneath his hat. His eyes were predatory, being two vertical slits.

  “We need not discuss much.” The Archbishop said. “You must merely use your powers to bring the sprite into the astral world and free Sir Markaydi Frencili here. If this proves successful, we’d like for you to continue this with the rest of the apostles as time goes on.”

  He gestured at the sleeping apostle.

  Now understanding the reason for her being summoned, she stood up and went to kneel over Markaydi.

  She looked back at her uncle, who gave her a thumbs-up as Oddiggan came to kneel beside her, placing the cage down between her and him.

  He said, greeting her with a toothy smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Gorgeous.”

  “Pleasure to meet you too.”

  Modonnalisa was wary of the boy. She trusted Aunt Yohanna wholeheartedly, having known the woman for years. Modonnalisa knew there’d be no reason for Aunt Yohanna to lie. This boy was very strange; the large man, obviously his bodyguard, had a strange feel to him.

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  Modonnalisa’s awareness expanded without warning, her ability to sense and understand the ether around her magnifying into a sixth sense. “What the…”

  “I just gave you permission to use the sprite temporarily,” Odiggan said, then laughed. “Judging by your reaction, you felt it immediately.”

  He opened the cage, allowing the sprite to flutter into the palm of her hand.

  She closed her eyes, summoning her spirit friends.

  Moving to lie down beside Markaydi, she willed for the sprite to land on her chest, then sprang with it from her body, only to immediately feel something sharp strike her back.

  Looking back frantically, she saw a disgusting demon that took on the form of a mass of swirling gold coins and blood-soaked stacks of money.

  It had a single arm, fashioned from a tree branch, wielding a contorted silver trophy enshrouded in thorns.

  Before she could even react to the monstrosity, it had been torn to pieces by Belzirr, fracturing into ether that rapidly merged back into the surroundings.

  “Whose demon had that been?” She asked, but then immediately knew.

  Belzirr blew out a cloud, forming the image of Odiggan’s face, but it wasn’t necessary. The sprite that had accompanied her was enhancing her spiritual senses.

  Modonnalisa looked at Odiggan, then the giant man.

  The giant man had no demons around him, but his ether was overwhelmingly powerful, like a force pressing down on everything from above.

  Many of the watchers had regained their demons after the last church meeting, their forms darker now, contorted by the grief of losing Gillian.

  Just like last time, she cleared out all of the demons and dipped her scythe into the god’s blood.

  “Nassiara, guard my body in the physical world,” Madonnalisa said.

  Intuitively, she used the power of the sprite to give Nassiara far more ether than what was needed for her to manifest into physical form.

  Nassiara grew in size, sprouting extra wings, an extra tail, and an extra head.

  When the spirit manifested, all of the watchers in the cathedral were overcome with fear, except the giant man, the Archbishop, and her uncle.

  Odiggan stumbled back and kept his distance, the giant man laughing with amusement.

  Mounting Han and allowing Belzirr to wrap themselves around her, she was off into Gillian’s divine sanctuary once more.

  Nothing had changed; it was just as dark, just as barren, just as dead as before.

  The only difference was that now she felt the death ether wafting around her much more than last time.

  “We need to free Markaydi,” Madonnalisa said, recalling the feel of his ether and immediately knowing where his specific cocoon was.

  They flew over to one that hung just above the shattered rings, thunder crackling in the distance.

  The nature of the crimson strings comprising the cocoons was clear to her now; these were red strings of fate, known to be indestructible.

  She placed a hand on the cocoon, then looked at the sprite that was innocently fluttering around her, as if it were but a creature like any other

  She thought back to what Odiggan said on the television.

  At her will, the sprite altered the strings freely, creating an opening that exposed Markaydi’s face. He was a Southern Coronatian man, cleanly shaven and handsome with a mustache. His eyes were closed. She used her reaper authority to ask a question directly to his soul. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” A voice answered her.

  “What happened here?” She asked immediately, hoping this apostle had witnessed Gillian’s death in person.

  “Another god attacked his honourable.” He said. “Slaughtering him in cold blood.”

  A scene rushed into her mind. She saw Gillian’s divine sanctuary as it was depicted on the mural on the cathedral’s ceiling. The ring was immaculate, the sky blue and bright. There was not a trace of the death that curdled in every inch of the sanctuary now. The palace was shimmering, bustling, but also restless.

  That was the last thing she wanted to hear or see. “Which of the one hundred and thirteen was it?”

  “This being is not of the one hundred and thirteen. This one is an outsider. From a different time, a different world.”

  Another scene came over her.

  The sanctuary rippled, as if reality itself was fracturing. Gillian flew around in the sky, carving massive arcs through the blackening clouds. He descended, and following—no chasing him was a beam of rainbow light that hit Gillian mid descent, creating an aurora that rippled through the sky, fissuring the surrounding rings and sending shards out into a void-like abyss of chaotic matter that encroached from the edges of the sanctuary. Overall, the sanctuary was now halfway to becoming what it is in the present. These were the final moments of his honourable’s life.

  Gillian came down on the roof of the palace, crashing through it, as his attacker sprang out from the beam of rainbow light, an extremely tall, inhumanly beautiful young man with brown skin, prominent cheekbones, tied-back locks, and a wide-rimmed straw hat. He was chewing a piece of wheat, and his eyes shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow as he dove straight into the place after Gillian with a half-insane grin.

  Madonnalisa noted and then asked. “What’s the name of this god?”

  “His name is Christopher Marcus…”

  The cocoon suddenly ruptured, Markaydi’s soul being sucked back to his body.

  Before Modonnalisa could even react or process anything, she was back in the cathedral, back in the physical world as a massive Scarlet blaze engulfed everything around her.

  Screams fought for the space in her ears, losing to the roar of the blaze.

  Before she knew it, the fire had engulfed her, too, and her uncle rushed over to her.

  The sprite flew wildly overhead, Odiggan reaching for it in a panic, before a tall, hooded figure appeared from nowhere and punched him hard. Odiggan went tumbling as Modonnalisa’s uncle grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. The tall, hooded figure took the sprite and was gone the next second. Modonnalisa tried to summon her scythe but couldn’t, nor could she contact her spirit friends.

  The giant man threw the unconscious Odiggan over his shoulder, walking towards the exit.

  Only now did Madonnalisa realise that the fire wasn’t burning her, or anyone else, for that matter.