The Second Archon War: Sol Invictus 9 (Patreon)

Sol Invictus 9: Holy Death

The sun was finally setting as the PRT vehicles pulled into the parking lot. Mina waved excitedly and cheered. Behind her, the other survivors of Somerton clapped, laughed, cried, and embraced one another. Mina herself gave Roach a hug.

The big guy gently put his carapace arms around Mina and gave her a light squeeze. A few people gave her weird looks, but she didn’t care. Roach had been her soldier since the War of Fools, and the only one who was still with her and alive.

Carlo’s alive. I know he is! I just have to keep believing…

“Captain Fieldman, Lightkeeper Command!” she piped cheerfully as the armored troopers disembarked. She remembered herself just in time and saluted soberly.

Her armor was a wreck, her sword barely better than a hunk of beaten metal, and she’d lost half her command.

But she’d kept forty-seven civilians alive, along with Roach, Elle, and Mel. And two new Pyro Vision holders: Lance Corporal Roger Paulson and Angelina Baker.

Roger was one of Mina’s surviving PRT troopers, though he would be transferred to the Protectorate, of course. Angelina was a hairstylist from the nearby strip mall. Both had fought to defend the bunker until the Dawn had come, and both had been granted a Pyro Vision for their courage.

Mina’s own Vision dangled from her ear, its weight a reminder that the Pyro Archon herself had seen Mina. She still didn’t know who the Archon was. Would she be like Focalors and stay hidden? Mina didn’t think so. No way. She bet the Pyro Archon was right at the front of the fight!

“We had reports of Pyros here,” the Protectorate officer leading the troopers said, looking around. They had on a helmet and heavy protective gear, so Mina couldn’t identify them, but that voice…it make her whiskers twitch. Where had she heard it before?

“Yep!” Mina said, ignoring her gut. The Abyssal whispers had stopped, but she was still jittery and shaken from three days of constant fighting. Even after sleeping most of a day away, she was still drained. Not that she would let that get her down! 

“Me, Lance Corporal Paulson, and Miss Angelina Baker!” Mina said, pointing.

Corporal Paulson saluted and grinned, while Angelina waved.

“So, like, I don’t have to join the Protectorate, right?” Angelina said. “Like, fighting the Abyss needed to happen, but…I’m so about nails, you know? I’m going to open my own place! I’ve got like, a dozen- hey! What’s the big deal!?”

Three dozen PRT troopers in heavy gear had surrounded Mina and her survivors, and six of them leveled the barrels of containment foam launchers.

“Uh, Captain?” Mel said, putting a hand on her weapon.

Beside her, Elle raised one hand, and the ground began to shift.

“Stand down, Faultline,” the Protectorate officer growled. “You too, Labyrinth. Orders are to take the Pyros. Not you.”

“Er, for debriefing? I mean, I was sort of hoping you’d help with relief…” Mina said.

She looked around at the strange troopers warily. “We’re low on medical supplies, and I’ve got two diabetics who are in desperate need of insulin. Who are you, exactly?”

“Take them!” the officer barked.

The troopers depressed the triggers on the containment foam launchers.

Mina, however, was ready.

The trooper nearest to her had gotten a little too close. Mina touched the barrel of his containment foam launcher.

They switched places.

Mina ducked.

The trooper she’d swapped with took the blast meant for her, along with several of the newcomers behind him.

Chaos erupted as Mina’s veteran Lightkeepers engaged the newcomers.

Roger and Privates Lee and Whistler were the only PRT troopers from her original unit still alive, but they’d been on half a dozen deployments before the Long Night, and all three were combat veterans with finely honed instincts. They laid into the nearest squad without hesitation, despite being outnumbered more than two to one.

Still, exhausted and outnumbered, they didn’t last very long.

Roger was the first to go down, coated from head to toe in charged containment foam. The stuff crackled around his Vision, smothering its heat before he could burn himself free.

Elle tried to activate her Labyrinth, but she was exhausted from nearly a week of fighting and manipulating space. She was the next to be coated in containment foam, not even managing to warp more than a small space before she was trapped herself. 

“ELLE!” Melanie easily cut through the enemy’s armor, but her power only worked on inorganic substances, and her own armor was cracked and damaged. She was tall and powerfully built, but against half a dozen heavily armed PRT troopers, even her power couldn’t hold out for long.

They beat her down with glowing shock batons and heavy boots.

Roach was a far more dangerous opponent.

He was nearly seven feet tall, had six limbs, incredible strength, and had fought through the Witch’s Winter in Poland and Finland before joining the Lightkeepers with Mina. He knew exactly how to cripple and kill human soldiers armed with Tinkertech, though admittedly, most of his practice had been with the Fatui.

He took down seven troopers before they managed to get a Cryo grenade off.

Someone knew Roach too well.

Cold was hard on him. He’d needed heated armor when fighting the Fatui. But in Arizona? He had no such protection.

His limbs went stiff. His body grew sluggish. Moments later, he was wrapped in a great cocoon of containment foam.

Mina herself lasted the longest.

Between her ability to teleport short distances, her Pyro Vision, and her years of experience, first as a Ward, then as a frontline combatant, she was intimately familiar with PRT tactics and how to take down capes.

She called forth flames, driving back her opponents as she popped from place to place, searing the strangers and desperately trying to free her friends.

Then the Protectorate captain came for her.

Mina dodged the first thrust of the captain’s jagged sword, then the second. The third slipped through a chink in Mina’s battered armor and nicked her leg.

Mina flashed away and drew on her Pyro Vision to heal the wound.

…Only, it resisted.

Mina’s heart sank, even as the civilians screamed and shouted.

They were being soaked with containment foam as well!

“Ravager!?” Mina cried. “You treacherous cat! I should have known you’d betray the Hegemony!”

“Me?” Ravager cackled, shaking her head. “Oh, no, no, no. You see, MP…I’m the loyal hero now.”

She pointed her jagged sword at Mina.

“But you? You’re the rebel. Resisting lawful arrest? Tch. Should have known you’d scurry away like the rat you are.”

“Mouse,” Mina snapped, and teleported. She snatched a containment foam hose from one trooper, sprayed him and one of his companions down, then flashed away again.

“She’s too fast, Captain!” one of the enemy troopers cried.

“Amateurs. She thinks she’s a hero. This is how you do it,” Ravager growled. 

She stepped over to Roach and pressed the edge of her sword against the bug-man’s thorax. “Surrender, or I cut him. You know what I can do. A nick from me now is a disembowelment later.”

Mina froze, her heart pounding.  “No! Don’t! What are you even doing!? We’re Protectorate, just like you!”

“You? Heroes? Ha! You’re those traitors from Hawaii, and you’re Pyro Vision holders.” Ravager grinned beneath her helmet. “Foam her! If she teleports, kill one of the other Pyros!”

Mina slumped, allowing herself to be sprayed with Containment foam. What was going on? Surely Ravager had to have gone rogue. There had to be a more experienced field officer she could report to…

“Captain, Captain Mina, what’s going on!?” Elle wailed as they were loaded into a van, still wrapped in foam.

“It’s fine, Elle. Ravager just has a grudge against me from the old days,” Mina said gently. “It’s not about you.”

“That’s Captain Anderson to you, traitor,” Ravager snarled. “Get them loaded up, and let’s get moving!”

They were kept in the back of the paddy wagon for hours, trapped in foam. Mina’s body began to cramp up. She gritted her teeth, and resisted the urge to try to gnaw her way out. Someone had to listen…

At last, the door opened, and Mina had to blink back tears. When her vision cleared, her heart leaped in delight.

“Reed! Oh, thank sweet cheddar you’re here! It’s me! Mina! You know, Mouse Protector? You’ve got to help! Ravager attacked me and my men! She’s gone rogue! You have to-”

“I’m sorry, Captain Fieldman,” Reed said, his voice tired. He wasn’t in battle rattle, but rather a Protectorate dress uniform, with many of the medals identical to Mina’s own. He too had served in the war against the Tsaritsa, though he’d been at Riga, and he was one of the inaugural Wards from back in the day. His own rank showed the oak leaves of a major, but his expression was hangdog-tired.

“Hey, it’s fine! Just open this mouse out of the trap and let my people go, and lock that traitor Ravager up!” Mina said, but she was having to force the cheer into her voice. They’d taken her Vision. A part of her felt…dead. Listless. Like all the ambition and joy had been drained from her life. 

“Captain Anderson was…overly enthusiastic…in following her orders,” Reed said, not meeting Mina’s eyes.

She couldn’t believe her ears. Overly enthusiastic?! She’d threatened to kill Mina’s people!

But…following her orders?

  “She should have arrested you peacefully. You have a long history of noble service to the Hegemony. I…apologize…for the brutality. I’ll put a note in her file,” Reed stated, closing his eyes.

“Note in her file!? James, what the FUCK!?” Mina snapped, then blushed. “Uh, sorry.”

He waved a hand in dismissal, turning away. “You’re being taken to the Tucson facility. You, and…and all your squad. Mutiny. Failure to follow lawful orders. The list is long. I…I can’t do anything, Captain Fieldman. Not if I don’t want to join you.”

Reed hesitated, and half turned to Mina. He swallowed, then added, “I’ll see if I can spare you the Slug. For old times’ sake.”

“James! Reed! Major Tucker! Please!”

Reed stopped, and for one last desperate moment, hope kindled. 

“Elle, Mel, Roach, they’re innocent! Angelina, she’s just a stylist! Roger was following my orders! If anyone did wrong, it’s me! Don’t, don’t take them too!” Mina begged. Not for herself. For her people.

“Close the doors,” Reed said, not even turning around. “Get them moving. Make sure the facility is prepared for their arrival.”

The doors slammed shut, and Mina’s hope was snuffed out. She wanted to curl up in a hole and hide, but she heard Mel crying softly.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been in rougher spots than this with Roach!” she gasped, false bravado forcing itself into her voice. “Right, big guy?”

Not even a click of a mandible in response. She prayed that Roach was still alive, and the cold hadn’t done him in. They couldn’t have come all this way together, just to be killed by their own people!

“We’ll get out of this! You’ll see,” Mina promised as the van began to move. “C-Carlo is still out there!”

“Good. I hope he doesn’t come back,” Elle said, her voice bitter. “We should have left, too.”

Mina could only fight back a sob as she lay in darkness, the light of Joy having faded completely from her heart. Her Vision was in Ravager’s pocket. And with it gone, all Ambition left as well.

It was the hounds they heard first.

The sun had finally set the evening before, while Mavuika’s nascent army encamped near Morelia. They had taken a detour south when reports came in of more Abyssal monsters attacking the city.

The battle had been fierce, but it had gone much better than the earlier skirmishes.

Pedro’s NCOs were green, but so was everyone else, and the radios helped keep the formations coordinated. Sandrone had exceeded even her own promises, supplying 127 new elemental weapons of various sorts in a single day.

Even if she had needed to work through the night.

Diego wondered if the former monster even needed sleep. She certainly drank enough black tea to keep someone awake all night, even if she demanded fancy imported varieties and complained incessantly about her lack of proper tools and the ramshackle old RV she had to work out of. But she delivered the weapons. And they had made the difference.

Three had still died.

Mavuika had led four hundred of the very best troops she had against a force of more than three thousand of the rat monsters called Skavan. There had been dozens of Abyssal mages, enormous rogres, and at least three separate packs of rift hounds.

Three dead was a miracle. An incredible victory.

Diego had still seen Mavuika mouth the names of the victorious dead during the funeral Mass, adding them to that too-long list she kept.

Early the next morning, Diego had risen and started his patrol.

The books he had read, along with his limited experience fighting the Abyss, told him that the hour before dawn was by far the most dangerous time. He left Father Arpacio sleeping alone in their room. Carlo had returned to Mexico City to train and recruit new soldiers. The program would take weeks to bear fruit, but it would be worth it in the end.

Or so they hoped.

“Hey! Wake up!” Diego barked as he reached one of the pickets and found the two exhausted soldiers there dozing.

He banged his scabbard against a metal barrel, and both guards shot upright.

“Ah! We were not sleeping, Captain!” one babbled, eyes wild.

The other just looked embarrassed and hung her head in shame.

“I know a siesta when I see one! What if I had been a hilichurl or skaven? Your throats would be slit, and your comrades dead!” Diego snarled. “I’m putting both of you on latrine duty for a week! It’s the honeywagon for you, my darlings!”

That had been an Elena innovation. Portable toilets and honeywagons.

It solved one of the traditional problems of any army: human waste management. Diego knew perfectly well the dangers posed by cracked sewer lines, and while plastic portable toilets weren’t a perfect solution, they were better than digging new latrines every night—or trying to find working toilets in a land where the water system had been ravaged by the Abyss.

Elena kept trying to steal Sandrone away to repair water mains instead of making swords. Diego didn’t even think she was wrong to do it. But for now, they needed the swords more.

“Won’t happen again, Captain,” the chastened soldier muttered.

What was her name?

Right. Lucía…something.

The boy was Sebas…Rojas?

Well, just Sebas was enough.

Mavuika seemed to have everyone’s names memorized already, despite still having the vocabulary of a particularly bloody-minded toddler. Diego had long known that if you remembered a worker’s name, they’d work twice as hard when you greeted them with it for the rest of the shift. Mavuika seemed to do it by instinct. He didn’t even think she was using her Archon powers to do it, knowing someone’s name was just that important to her.

“Well, at least I didn’t find the two of you committing a mortal sin like I did Mateo and Marisol,” Diego growled.

Idiots. But you stuck enough young men and women together in mortal peril, then got them bored on sentry duty, and…things happened. Diego fervently hoped Father Arpacio had liberal views on contraceptives, because church doctrine or no, they were going to lose half their force if they didn’t have SOME plan besides abstinence.

The two sentries looked at one another, blushed, and then looked away. Diego could read their expressions perfectly: Damn. Why didn’t we think of that?

Right. From now on, no more mixed sentry pairs. Pedro would laugh hysterically, then make the appropriate changes to the roster. 

“Ah, sir, we would never-” Sebas began to lie.

Then they heard the first howl.

Instantly, all three had their weapons out, and Diego had the pair of night-vision goggles Tomás had found for him lifted to his eyes.

He scanned the darkness. The sky was just beginning to grow light.

Only… No.

That was more to the south. That wasn’t where the sun should be rising. That wasn’t the dawn.

“Madre de Dios,” Diego breathed.

His goggles flared, then adjusted. A single burning insect fluttered through the night sky.

His hand trembling slightly, Diego picked up his radio as more hounds bayed in the distance.

“This is Captain Diego Rodríguez. Sound the alarm. Get the Archon up here immediately.”

“The Abyss?” Tomás asked over the radio.

“No,” Diego said grimly.

 “Santa Muerta.”

Even as the camp came alive to the blare of air horns and digital alarms, Diego watched the horizon bathe itself in flame. Dark hounds with spiked collars and eyes that glowed with black fire revealed themselves in the darkness, only to slip back into the shadows a moment later. More and more butterflies swarmed overhead, trailing drops of blood and ash.

“They…they say she’s changed,” Sebas said, gripping the haft of his axe tightly. “That…that Lady Kusanali changed her.”

“They say she curses men. Take their…you know,” Lucía whispered, crossing herself nervously.

“She fights the Abyss now,” Diego said, forcing calm into his voice as the soldiers formed up for battle.

Though what they could do against this foe… Diego had no idea. You could fight the Abyss. You couldn’t fight the Butcher of Dasman Palace. No one could fight Holy Death herself.

Well. Almost no one.

Mavuika strode up, sword in hand, hair aflame. Captain Diego. What is this? I sense…Not Death herself. But…something close. Not a Higher Power, but…

The swarm overhead began to swirl together as the pack made itself fully visible. The hounds bayed and howled, racing in a ring around the vortex of flame. A great grinning face of dark fire appeared at its center, then compressed itself in a burst of heat.

From the inferno, a woman stepped forth.

The soldiers sucked in sharp breaths, and Diego heard many of them begin to pray.

She was here.

“Hey, hey, hey~! Guess who!” a cheery voice called.

The woman was…well, smaller than Diego had expected. Younger, too. If she hadn’t been a horrific abomination that scoured battlefields clean of life, Diego might have called her pretty, if disheveled.

She wore a black coat with red embroidery: butterflies mixed with the skulls of hounds and licking flames. Beneath it were dark shorts that didn’t even reach her knees. Her feet were clad in black slippers, and on her head she wore her infamous odd hat, adorned with red poppies.

A blood-red spear was draped over her shoulders, and her arms hung looped over it as she grinned manically at them.

“Now which of you motherfuckers is the Pyro Archon? Because I have a bone to pick.”

“Mavuika,” Diego said, his voice coming out far steadier than he could have hoped. “This is Farasha. The…well. Some call her Santa Muerta. Others, the Pyro Dragon. Me? I had hoped never to call her at all.”

Mavuika stepped forward, and Diego tensed. Farasha’s hounds began to growl, circling behind her, fangs bared. He’d heard that they transformed back into men to fight, but that might only be for the Abyss. No one really knew how the Curse worked. Only that Santa Muerta turned men into bitches, and forced them to fight until they died. 

I have heard about you, Mavuika called, folding her arms over her chest, her sword hanging behind her in the air, but not vanishing.

“Yeah? Bad things only, I hope,” Farasha sneered.

I heard that you like to give a radish candy.

Farasha froze. Diego and the rest of the men exchanged puzzled looks. What?

“What did you say?” Farasha said, her voice soft.

I’ve also heard you tell the best bedtime stories. Particularly the one about the infamous cocogoat, Mavuika continued, her expression solemn. 

“Ah, dammit,” Farasha muttered.

She kicked a rock, sending it bouncing away, then sighed and lowered her spear, leaning on it. “I was trying to be all cool and ominous, you know? Really play up that whole ‘crazy murder bitch’ legend.” She grimaced. “Looks like I was too slow, huh? So, when did she talk to you? In a Dream, right?”

Then the maniac turned and snapped at the still-growling hounds.

“Oh, will you give it a rest?! Just- sit! Lie down! Take five or something. Sheesh.”

Immediately, the hounds began to whine. They flopped down in the soft earth of the farmer’s field, rolled onto their backs, and began thumping their tails.

“What the hell,” Diego muttered, slowly shaking his head. He’d heard bizarre stories about Farasha, of course, but…really?

Mavuika watched the hounds with narrowed eyes, her hair still aflame. Then she looked back at Farasha. I had not heard about your…companions.

“Pretty sick, right? I mean, I was just going to kill them all at first. I found this warehouse, and they had it full of kids and women, half of them-”

Sick is the term I would use for it, yes.

Farasha stopped.

Is this the sort of behavior Nahida would approve of from her mother? Mavuika demanded.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Farasha growled, tossing her spear to the ground in a fit of pique. “I knew I was going to get a lame one! At least you’re not speaking in limericks or doing something else weird as hell, but come on!”

She threw up her hands. “Of course I’d get a lame moralistic crusader instead of an Archon with some real balls!”

Mavuika’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t interrupt Farasha’s increasingly bizarre and inane rant.

“Listen, lady, I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, but this is Earth Bet. Our shit? It’s fucked, all right?”

Farasha jabbed a finger into the air.

“First, some golden asshole showed up in the ’80s and started giving people like yours truly brain worms to drive them crazy because he was on his ‘cycle’ and thought that sounded fun. Then a goddamn hikkiNEET who can turn a microwave into a biohazard showed up in Japan, held the world’s largest fish fry, and declared herself god-emperor of the otaku!”

“Ah, I believe she refers to the Endslayer’s salvation of Hiroshima,” Diego whispered to Mavuika, coming up beside her. Then he winced. That probably meant just as much to Mavuika as Farasha’s insane ramblings did.

I see, Mavuika deadpanned.

But Farasha was on a roll now, pacing back and forth and gesticulating wildly.

“Then some spoony bard went on a drunken road trip through Europe, killing goddamn Nazis! Which was metal as fuck, by the way, but that broke bitch ain’t what I’d call a role model either! Oh, and did I mention they started giving out magic rocks, to? Because now, we have magic rocks! In addition to the alien brain worms!” 

And the bard in this tale is Lord Barbatos? Mavuika asked.

“Wow, a real brainiac, my Archon! Ten points!” Farasha raved. “And then! And then…”

Farasha trailed off. She sagged, shoulders slumping. “And then…my radish came. And she…she made everything pretty much alright, you know?”

She looked away. “I mean, we also got the Ice Witch of Moscow and a French theater nerd, but…fuck.”

“You guys have been fixing things, you know?” She stepped toward Mavuika, glaring up at the much taller woman.

Mavuika looked down at her solemnly.

“I’m only gonna ask this once. You answer me straight, and maybe we can work together. You fuck with me, and I go back to Brazil and fight my own war there.”

Diego tensed as Santa Muerta took a deep breath.

Then, in a choked voice, she asked:

“What the fuck took you so long?”

I had another war to finish, Mavuika said, pain in her tone and expression. I was sent as soon as Natlan was saved. I am sorry. I have heard you fought well, Pyro Dragon. Know this: You do not fight alone any longer. 

Farasha nodded, sniffed, and looked away. “Yeah. Kinda figured it was like that.”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve, then narrowed her eyes and looked up at Mavuika.

“You win?”

I did, Mavuika said, nodding once. 

“Good. Alright, let’s fuck shit up together,” Farasha said, and extended her hand. Mavuika shook it, and there was an audible sigh of relief, and weapons were lowered. 

Santa Muerta wasn’t here for them. 

“Great!” Farasha said. She whistled at the dogs. “Hey! Bitches! Which one of you is Guto?”

One dog trotted forward, and Farsha snapped her fingers. The dog turned into a nervous looking man who seemed less like a cartel member turned hellhound, and more like a nervous accountant dressed in combat fatigues.

“Ah, sim, olá, eu sou o Guto. Ah, vocês têm alguém que fale inglês? Eu não falo espanhol.”

He asks if anyone speaks English, Mavuika translated. 

Diego sighed and stepped forward. Great. Most of Farasha’s hounds would be Brazilian. This was going to get complicated on the battlefield. “Yes, I can speak English. What do you need?”

Farasha jerked a thumb at Guto. “Guto here is in charge of my beans! Guto, tell him about our beans.”

“Ah, Boss…” Guto said, rubbing his hands together nervously, “We did not bring any beans.”

Farasha stared at him.

 “W-we did not bring anything!” Guto half whined. “You said, ‘fuck this, I am not staying in the hospital one more day! Come on, boys and girls! I am going to find the Pyro Archon and see if she speaks like a Dr. Seuss book, or if we got a normal one for once.’”

“Fuck. He’s got me there,” Farasha muttered, rubbing her chin. She looked around in irritation. “Where’s Hannah-banana when you need her?”

She brightened and turned back to Mavuika. “I don’t suppose you know about, like, logistics and stuff, do you?”

Mavuika nodded slowly. I do. Have you not been leading your…forces…in the field for many months? Were you not in charge of your country’s warriors before?

“Eh, I mean, mostly That Asshole Saddam pointed at stuff and I made it die. Then I retired from that shit and had a kid. Good stuff!”

Farasha paused. “Uh, then I sort of…” She puffed out her cheeks.

“Fuck, I mean, how do you explain it when your kid turns you into a giant dragon because you did a fusion dance with your alien brain worm, and it’s making you go even crazier and more murder-happy than you were before?”

Nahida did mention conceptual hugs and pizza, Mavuika said, frowning. But she did not explain the mechanism. 

Farasha looked irritated and opened her mouth, but Mavuika raised a hand. I am not concerned about the circumstances of your ascension, Pyro Dragon. I am more concerned that you appear to lack command experience.

“Uh, let’s go with ‘yes’ on that one,” Farasha said, shrugging.

Very well. How do you take orders?

“Well, I never worked at a restaurant, so I’m kinda shit at it,” Farasha said with an impudent grin.

Mavuika’s expression was stony, and Diego did his best to imitate her.

Farasha sighed, and saluted. “Yes, ma’am. Soldier Farasha reporting for duty.”

Not from me. From him, Mavuika said, pointing to Diego.

Farasha looked Diego up and down. “You know how to kill the Abyss good?”

He cleared his throat. “Most of my experience is as a farmer and business owner, but I am learning rapidly.”

Farasha’s expression hardened.

“And you don’t get too many idiots killed when you point?” she asked, her tone edging back toward something deadly.

“I do my best,” Diego said stiffly. “By the Grace of God, I held Estadio Azteca until Mavuika arrived. After that…”

He hesitated. “I am still learning. But I get better every time.”

To his shock, Farasha saluted him. “You got it, El Capitán! I don’t listen so good all the time, so you might gotta give me a boot up my ass every once in a while.”

She grinned. “But I catch on eventually.”

Good. Then only one more thing remains, Mavuika said.

“Oh, right, the resurrection stuff. Listen, if I was out of range, no dice. Sorry about your dead buddies and all, but if they’ve crossed over, that’s it. I’m not a necromancer, I’m a goddamn butterfly,” Farasha said.

No. Not that.

Mavuika pointed to the hounds, who were still lying on their bellies and regarding their mistress. Why, exactly, did you turn these men into female dogs?

“...because human trafficking pisses me right the fuck off?” Farasha said, frowning. “Look, if you’re going to pitch a hissy fit, I dunno how well this is gonna work out.”

I see. Then their crimes were monstrous? Mavuika asked.

Farasha turned to Guto, who cringed. “Hey, Guto. Remind me: What were you doing when I found you?”

“I…” Guto licked his lips, then fell to his knees. “Forgive me, Archon!”

“It ain’t her you gotta worry about, Guto,” Farasha said, her voice soft. “Now tell the nice War God what you were doing, or my butterflies cross you over here and now.”

Guto began to explain. Before he was finished, Diego strongly considered drawing his sword and cutting the man’s balls off before stuffing them down his throat and watching him choke to death on them.

 Instead, he silently said a prayer for those poor little girls.

You are more merciful than I, Mavuika told Farasha when Guto trailed off at the end. But also more cruel. I am War, not Justice. If this is what Rebirth sentences these men to, so be it. What is their term of service?

“Uh…” Farasha scratched her head. “You know, you’re actually the first person to ask that. I sort of didn’t think about it.”

Do so. All sentences must have an end. Let the punishment fit the crime. For one such as this…a lifetime would not be too much. But surely not all of your hounds are so guilty.

“Um…” Farasha pulled out a phone. “...let me just text Chiyo about that one and get back to you.”

Chiyo is your…what do you call it, Diego?

“Legal clerk? Judge? Attorney?” Diego prompted.

“She’s Focalors’,” Farasha said as her thumbs tapped away. “Dragon, I mean. Aww, how cute! Look, she sent a picture of her kid in her new outfit!”

Farasha turned the phone around to show a picture of what appeared to be a young girl with two pink coral horns and a draconic tail posing sweetly in a Lightning Princess Ami costume. 

Charming, but do not attempt to change the topic, Farasha, Mavuika said firmly. Why do you turn to the Hydro Dragon on this matter? Is this not a matter for Mexico, or, where did you come from? Brazil?

“Because I know fuck all about Justice and she’s the Dragon of Restoration? Shit, lady, maybe you have a million years of experience as an Archon or whatever, but I’m not even 30 and I ain’t been a dragon for more than a couple of years!” Farasha snapped.

Then she added, “Oh, and for your information? Not Brazilian, or Mexican. Fuck me, everyone here thinks I’m Latina just because I got dark hair and a tan! I’m Arab! You know, from Iraq!?”

Farasha paused, frowning. “Or, well, I guess not. Uh…think…fuck, what word did Nahida use? Eremite! Yeah, I’m like one of those.”

The phone chimed, and Farasha smiled.

“Hey, she’s not a thousand meters underwater! One sec, I’ll get her on speaker.”

The phone rang. A moment later, a voice burst from the speaker.

“Hello? Farasha! What do you MEAN you didn’t set a conditional limit on the curse!? It was bad enough that you started cursing mortals left and right, but you didn’t take ANYTHING into account!? What if someone’s only crime was stealing a loaf of bread to feed their family? What if they were coerced!? You can’t just start cursing people because you’re a dragon!”

“Look, I was pissed, I was more stressed than usual, and no, I’m not just cursing purse snatchers, Chiyo!” Farasha snapped. “Your boss just sent me a lady who was a fucking Abyssal researcher! She turned people into hilichurls!”

Farasha threw up her free hand. “Fuck yes, I cursed her!”

Hold on, Mavuika said, pointing at the phone. The sentencing can wait. What do you mean, Abyssal Researcher? Explain.

“That’s something we can tell you, Lord Ku,” a young girl’s voice said in English.

Diego and the others turned to find three young girls, dressed in what appeared to be some sort of Hawaiian themed costumes, all three with Visions. The middle one, a tall and lanky blonde of about 12, stepped forward, her expression grim. She put a fist over her heart, and bowed her head. 

“My name is Victoria Dallon. Daughter of Mark and Carol Dallon. This is my sister, Amy Dallon, and our friend, Mualani  And…and we have news. We…we came from the Island of Kaho’olawe. And…and we know what the Hegemony is doing with the Abyss.”

Her sister Amy, shorter, with freckles and brown curly hair, nodded and held up a manila folder.

“We brought pictures.”

Mavuika, however, was not looking at either girl.

The flames in her hair had gone out, and…was she crying?

“Mualani?” Mavuika said, her voice breaking as she put both hands on the third girl’s shoulders. “ʻO ʻoe nō anei kēlā? Ua manaʻo au... e ʻoluʻolu, mai haʻi mai iaʻu ua make pū ʻoe. Na ka leo anei ʻoe i hoʻouna mai i ʻaneʻi?”

For her part, the girl beamed, a wide grin spreading across her face as she answered in the same language.

“E Haku Kū! Ua ʻike nō au ʻo ʻoe kēlā! Mai hopohopo! Ua hoʻopakele mākou i ka ʻāina, a ʻaʻohe mea i make, mahalo iā Haku Fu... Focalors! A, ʻae, na kēlā leo lapuwale nō mākou i hoʻouna mai i ʻaneʻi. Kēlā moʻo liʻiliʻi hūpō.”

“Hey! I am not a dumb little lizard, you ungrateful little jerk!” a digital voice snapped from Diego’s phone.

He started in shock and pulled it out of his pocket. He hadn’t had service in a week.

“Is this my thanks for guiding you three here, hmmm? YOU SHOULD BOW BEFORE THE GLORY OF THE ALMIGHTY—”

Mavuika groaned and put a hand over her face.

“Ajaw... ʻike au aia nō ʻoe ma ʻaneʻi. ʻAuhea ʻo Kinich? Nā poʻe ʻē aʻe? ʻO wai hou ka mea i hiki mai?”

“AHAHAH! You see? Even the new Archon recognizes my-”

Victoria plucked the phone out of Diego’s hand, then threw it as hard as she could. “Will you shut up!? Gods! This is why we took the batteries out of ours three days ago!” 

Diego watched the phone fly off into the brightening sky and vanish. He turned back to the girl, one eyebrow raised. “That was a rather extreme reaction, señorita. Who was your friend?”

“Uh, sorry, sir. But Ajaw is NOT my friend! I just…he never shuts up! Everyone on the plane, he’d call their phone somehow, and just start talking! Then, when we bummed a ride, he would call PAYPHONES. He knew where we were! I have no idea how the little jerk does it!” Victoria said, flushed and looking mildly embarrassed. 

Mavuika tapped Mualani on the shoulder and said something else in what Diego guessed was Hawaiian. The girl nodded. “Uh, sure, Lord Kū ! I can translate!”

Pointing in the direction the phone had gone, Mavuika said, “I have dealt with Ajaw before. Victoria’s reaction was…understandable. But, I still wish to know how you and he are here, Mualani.”

“We took a plane!” Mualani said in English, then repeated herself in Hawaiian. 

“I think she believes you to have come from Teyvat. Mavuika seemed to recognize you and the…lizard,” Diego said.

He thought he had heard of an Ajaw, but he was supposed to be the secret weapon of the Hegemony, their answer to Theresa Richter herself. Diego had imagined a coldly dispassionate machine that monitored the world’s telecommunications systems while fighting brutal digital wars against the Abyss.

Diego would come to learn just how terribly wrong he had been about the first part…and come to disbelieve just how accurate his assumption had been about the second.

“Oh…uh…no?” Mualani said, looking baffled. “I’m from Kapolei. Oh, sorry, uh-”

The conversation that followed was rapid-fire and obviously extremely passionate on both sides. In the end, Mualani was crying while Mavuika was clearly trying not to, and the two exchanged a fierce embrace.

“So, like, you’re never going to believe this…but I got a cousin on TEYVAT! She’s, like, super awesome! She’s a guide for a tribe called the People of the Springs, but they’re like the ninth island or something! She’s a surfer, and a champion of the Night Warden Wars, AND one of the Six Legendary Heroes!” Mualani gushed, still wiping away tears.

“Oh wow, that’s incredible! You’re like, a mini-archon!” Victoria said, and hi-fived Mualani before she and Amy both gave their friend a hug. 

Mavuika gave them a moment, then said something that sounded grave in Hawaiian.

“Yeah, I wanna see those pictures too. I got Deirdre out of there- still the weirdest fucking thing, having someone volunteer to be cursed, but I get it. But how, exactly, did three little girls end up in an Abyssal facility?” Farasha demanded.

“You speak Hawaiian too?!” Mualani gasped. “Aren’t you Farasha?!”

Farasha winked. “Yours truly! But nah. I don’t speak Hawaiian. Or whatever language you think you’re hearing! I got that magical dragon mojo. Kinda weird that Mavuika doesn’t,” Farasha said, frowning.

She shrugged. “Eh, who cares? This is all bullshit anyway. No, what I wanna know is why three kids were in some fucked-up Abyssal lab.”

“We’re not kids,” Victoria said in a tone Diego immediately identified as pure adolescent petulance. “We got Visions and fought the Abyss in Honolulu, then we fought through a whole island of monsters and discovered the truth of what…of what…”

Victoria hiccuped, the blood draining from her face, and Farasha swooped in instantly, wrapping the girl in a shockingly motherly embrace.

That was right. She had three children of her own, Diego recalled. Easy to forget when most stories about Farasha focused on her incinerating entire armies by herself and bringing the dead back to life in flame and blood.

“It’s OK. Well, no, it’s fucked up beyond belief, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here now,” Farasha growled. “And those fuckers are going to pay.”

She turned Victoria slightly, not having to bend over much to look the girl right in the eye.

“Now. This was the Hegemony, wasn’t it?”

Victoria nodded, her eyes red, her lip trembling slightly.

“We…we found a facility. On Kahoʻolawe,” Amy said, passing the folder to Mavuika.

The Archon’s expression had gone serene, but flames were licking up and down her body. They didn’t burn the paper. Mavuika flipped through the images slowly and carefully, as if memorizing every one.

“I TOLD Hannah she should have raised that fucking place to the ground,” Farasha snarled, her fingers forming into claws as butterflies began to dance in the air behind her, trailing blood and ash.

“You’re right. She should have,” Mualani said, her own expression grim. “But we did it for her. Duke said that she wanted to, but…she can’t break her duty. Something about it being her aspect. I wanted to tell uncle to shove it up his butt, but…he did help us.”

Captain Diego.

The words caused Diego to instantly snap to attention.

“Yes, Archon?”

Mavuika lifted the folder in one hand. There was a flash, and then it was reduced to ash.

I am afraid your home must wait. We have a new objective. Contact your brother. I must know if there are more of these…places. 

Then she turned to the girls. This knowledge is sealed under the Sacred Flame. You must tell no one of what you have seen, save for myself, the Pyro Dragon, and Captains Diego and Carlo. Too much knowledge of the Abyss and its ways is a deadly poison, and will draw it to you. You will come north with us, and-

THE FUCK THEY WILL.

Diego recoiled from the sudden heat and stumbled backward as an insectile dragon the size of a jumbo jet manifested in the air above him.

Long legs reached down and tenderly gathered the three girls against the beast’s breast, while enormous compound eyes burned with rage directed at Mavuika.

Dragon. These warriors must accompany us, they-

WARRIORS?! WARRIORS!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, MAV?! The dragon raged, wings beating the air. The three girls had all reacted differently to their sudden captivity: Victoria was struggling to break free, Mualani appeared to be having the time of her life, and Amy was clinging to her sister desperately, face pale. 

Mavuika folded her arms, her expression stern, but unruffled, even as the camp behind them erupted into further shouts of alarm, and the hounds began to bay again. They have been baptized in war: they are no helpless maidens. They have faced the greatest foe, and emerged from the other side. These are no children, Farasha.

DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD I WAS WHEN I BURNED MY FIRST CITY? Farasha hissed, flames crackling from her mouth.

Mavuika nodded. Yes. Your daughter told me. What was done to you was cruel. But I am not a tyrant, nor a warmonger. They will fight with honor, and be treated as warriors, not slaves. 

GO FUCK YOURSELF, Farasha snarled, and then lifted off into the sky, turning the dawn into a bloody firestorm as she beat her wings to the south. 

Diego watched Santa Muerta go, then turned to Mavuika, whose own expression was furious.

“Ah…Mavuika?”

The Archon’s eyes were fixed on the rapidly disappearing dragon, her jaw set. She turned to Diego. Get the soldiers ready to move. And get me two bottles of tequila. And a pizza.

The nature of the request took Diego by surprise. “Uh, yes, my Lady. But…forgive my asking…why?”

It appears I am about to have an intense theological debate. And I intend to turn Lord Buer’s tactics against her own mother, Mavuika said.

That explained nothing, but Diego decided that this was well outside of his area of expertise.

“GET ME TWO LITERS OF TEQUILA, PRONTO! AND THE BIGGEST DAMN PIZZA YOU CAN FIND!”