In my childhood fantasies, sometimes I was a child of prophecy, wielding legendary swords that could only be held by Chosen Ones, or magically gifted — yes, I know, ironic — with the ability to become an instant weapons master who could raze entire evil armies, one to ten thousand. Those were good times, back when I didn't yet know enough of the worlds to realize that was nothing to fantasize about. Children of prophecy weren't uncommon, after all. There were all sorts of natural weapons masters, too, and those born into bloodlines that gave them more glory in their pinky fingers than others would ever achieve in their lifetime combined. Razing evil armies single-handedly was a routine thing, even, for those systematically sought out by the head Coven of every nation for their latent abilities. That was what elite Arcane Institutes were for, gathering all those gifted witches of every breed and turning them into the pinnacle of war machines to keep our realm safe.
Being a hero wasn't glamorous. Being a hero got you turned into a branded slave to a system that profited from your heroics. Then you bred more little heroes for them according to their all-important Charters, like champion racehorses. When you outlived your usefulness, you died on the battlefield, fodder for the heroes to come after you. The end.
Thank God that Mom and Grandma kept me safe from that world. Thank God I didn't have a lick of real magic in my veins, even if I somehow became the target of a demon who hounded me in my dreams and insisted I was meant to be his all along, and even if that weird thing happened with the Enochian symbols under the Kunlun Temple, and even if while holding the Indra's Net, the strangest feeling of old, old familiarity flowed into my fingers, as if I recognized the thrumming energy from a lifetime ago.
I absolutely did not recognize it. If I did, it was only because I'd held this weapon literally hours ago when Sarina gave it to me. So of course, it would feel familiar. And the unsettling notion that I had felt this same exact sensation then, too? And that I had simply ignored it the first time because we were surrounded by chaos and violence and I had no time for mysterious glimmers and tingles? I'd dismissed it then, attributing it to the eerie aura of any old magical artifact, but I could no longer pretend it away. Without my sight, all of my remaining senses were unfairly heightened, making it that much more difficult to explain away inconvenient things.
Wait. What was I talking about? Who did I think I was talking to?
I'd spent my whole life sheltered from the magical world, and taught precisely how to pretend away anything. That was my greatest skill, drilled into me relentlessly by my mother and grandmother until I became a master in the art. Who was I trying to fool? I most definitely could ignore whatever I wanted to ignore, every inconvenient thing better left unnoticed. Easily.
And — there. I did it.
The whip remained gripped in my hand, and I rejected the thrumming energy that tried to leak into my body. Basic artifact aura and nothing more, of course, just like I'd thought before. No problem. I was pretty much human, anyway, regardless of my heritage. As an ordinary human, I really couldn't sense things like that, and even if I did, it was only because the aura was so powerful that even completely magic-insensitive people could feel it, too. There. See? Easy to explain. Anyway, how much farther did we have left to go? About time to get there—
"Sable, my love."
"What."
"The engravings on the Indra's handle seem to be lighting up."
"No, they're not."
"It seems they are. I can describe it to you in detail if you'd like—"
"No, thanks."
"Hm?"
"No, thanks," I repeated. "We're busy with other issues. No need."
"We're fairly unoccupied, actually—"
"If there really are more threats on this island than just sirens, we should organize better and be prepared. You can start by telling me what exactly you can do. Both of you." I turned and faced the rear over Lust's shoulder, and though I had no idea where Mammon was, I gave it my best guess, judging by the slightly tan smear of color amid splotches of dull green. "If we pool your knowledge, abilities, and resources, we can raise our chances of escape. But you have to be transparent. Lying won't help any of us."
"My Sable is the cleverest," Lust praised. He had the gall to sound genuinely proud. "I agree we should be more open with each other, Mammon. You'll never find an opening to attack me, so you might as well give up and try cooperation instead. We're doing so well already. I'm more rejuvenated than ever thanks to both our efforts."
I ignored that last part. Pretty sure I knew what he was so blithely talking about, and we didn't need to get into that. What happened then was a one-time thing and didn't bear mentioning again. Ever. "Anyway. Mammon. What is it you can do? You can shapeshift into that — wolf. And you can regenerate quickly. Right?" If he couldn't, his head would be almost severed from his shoulders thanks to Lust's bladed tail, yet Mammon's throat was in perfect working order, enabling him to speak.
"... Asmodeus should confess his limits first. Then I'll do the same."
Lust gave that a disapproving tut-tut, but it sounded far more amused than disappointed. No doubt that would only make Mammon steam even more — yeah, there it was. I fidgeted in Lust's arms against the oppressing cloud of black rage that simmered harder behind us.
"Stop it," I told Lust, dropping my voice to scold him quietly and quickly. "You're provoking him."
"Oh, love, this is just how we get along."
I sincerely doubted that. To his credit, though, Lust promptly complied with Mammon's demand.
"My Shards are missing, so of course I'm not at my prime. You have one in your safekeeping, one is somewhere on this island, and the other four are lost in the wind until I find them one by one. Until I reassemble them, I'm disappointingly limited, but my contract with Sable now allows me more... breadth of movement, shall we say? Dreamwalking, mesmerizing, and some shapeshifting myself, but unfortunately I can't alter the entirety of my appearance in this state. Parts of my body, though, most certainly. The more Shards I regain, the more... versatile."
Why did literally everything he said have to sound perverted? I quashed the thought before it could go anywhere. Clearly, he'd left out the bit about a passive aura of seduction while describing his abilities. "Can you heal, too?" I pressed. "You and Mammon fought on the mountain" — violently — "but you're both fine."
"At present, his capacity for recovery far exceeds mine, love."
Mammon snorted. "Not only at present. Always."
Lust ignored him. "That said, he must be quite weakened himself to not have overwhelmed me then. Considering that I'm at only a fraction of my power, the fight was suspiciously even, wasn't it? Even if we consider that you already had my Shard inside you to prevent you from killing me, that we were evenly matched is shedding unexpected light on your condition..."
"I was imprisoned for years," Mammon snarled.
"So was I."
"Hiding in humans' dreams isn't the same as being trapped in a fucking prison spell!"
"Granted. Even so, I have to wonder how you found yourself trapped in the first place. I admit the spell was fearsomely made, and engineered by a Solaria no less, but in that case, you should never have been so easy to trick into stepping within its bounds. The physical prison was already constructed and the spells woven into it long before you appeared. It's not as if you could have been deceived somehow into standing still long enough for the spell to be constructed around you. Everything was present and in plain view. Yet... you readily walked into the trap powerful enough to seal you, with no reservations... Interesting."
"Don't talk uselessly when you don't know a damn thing."
"But am I wrong?"
Mammon growled. The beastly noise triggered my fight-or-flight response, making me draw up and lean in toward Lust slightly. Hurt my pride, but better a bruised ego than chewed like a rawhide bone.
"Let me guess," Lust continued, utterly unperturbed. "After ambushing me with Leviathan and Ashaitan, they turned on you. Did you fight? Did they injure you so severely you had to retreat? Then perhaps you went in search of one of my Shards, knowing that I escaped death by a sliver and wanting to finish the job. In your weakened state, you overestimated yourself and landed in the trap. You were unable to escape, and you've been there ever since. How accurate is my guess?"
"You're an idiot through and through if you think I'm that weak."
"Against Ashaitan? When it comes to brute strength, we know who comes out on top." Before I could ask, Lust stroked my back with an affection caress and explained, "That would be Wrath, as I prefer to call him, but he's sensitive like Mammon. They're reluctant to be addressed by their covenant names for some reason. I can't imagine why. I think it would give Mammon some much-needed charm if he flaunted his title as the Prince of Greed."
"All you'll ever amount to is an empty title, but not me," Mammon sneered. "We're nothing alike. Go on and revel in it, but in the end, the covenant will fade, the title will fade. All you'll have is your name, Asmodeus."
"Well, that's a rather irresistible name, too. I'm not opposed."
Hm. More and more, I was starting to understand why Lust was so unpopular with the other Princes. I still sympathized with him slightly more, contract-bound to his welfare as I was, but did he provoke them like this all the time? I thought he said they used to be close. I couldn't see a single speck of that now as the air filled with Mammon's growing rage.
Thankfully, we returned to shelter right before a real fight could break out — again — and Lust ducked swiftly into the cave seconds before a deafening thunderclap shook the world. I almost fell out of his arms, jarred by the sheer force of it, but he held me steady with a quick adjustment. A fierce rushing noise filled and echoed through the cave. I didn't realize that was the sound of the pelting rain until a few seconds later when Lust set me on my feet — oh, nope, setting me on his lap yet again, huh?
No, thanks. I elbowed him in the chest and crawled off of him towards what I hoped was the wall, one hand clutching the wound-up whip and bumping along on the floor. I wasn't good enough at judging the acoustics to figure out how far away it was, but my guess was a lucky one. My head lightly bumped into a solid stone surface inches away, and I righted myself with some effort before stowing the Indra's safely in my lap.
"Sable—"
"I want space," I interrupted as I turned and sat myself against the wall. "Space. Peace. Can't we have a single discussion where neither of you get aggressive at each other. It's getting old, and all I wanted was to know what both of you can contribute to fixing the situation. Sorry that I can't do much myself, but I think it's fair to consider my getting us off the Kunlun Mountains before we got sealed as a free pass."
"Of course it's more than fair, love. You don't need to do anything at all. I'll resolve this quickly and—"
"You can't resolve shit on your own, Asmodeus."
"Hm, then I'll consider your opinion. Your judgment in the hopelessness of escaping something would be most accurate, after all."
"What did you say!"
"I'm saying that if anyone would know, it would be you, considering your experience as of late. Did I say something offensive or untrue, dear Mammon—"
"Okay. Let's wrap this up so I can sleep before I start hallucinating. I'm running on about two hours of sleep over the past four days, so it's about that time. Lust already explained what he can do. What about you, Mammon? Or if you don't want to cooperate, that's fine, because frankly, I'm too tired to care if you two want to keep fighting 24/7 instead of being productive." I tossed my hands up, aggressively helpless. "Your call."
There was a long pause, but miracle upon miracles, Mammon finally responded.
"... I'm not at my prime, either," he admitted begrudgingly. "Yes, I'm weakened. The prison sapped my strength over time. I couldn't escape, and it continued to drain me. It'll take time to recover. Hollowed magic is harder to heal than bodily injuries."
I made sure not to give away my excitement at finally getting him to crack. "So it was the prison that weakened you from the start?" I asked. "Was it really that strong that it kept you from escaping at full strength?" Mom had always been incredible, but this was crazy, honestly...
"No. I... underestimated the spells. I could have escaped if I hadn't remained in the trap for too long."
"Aha," Lust remarked. "So it happened just as I thought. Let me guess — the Shard baited you, stashed away in secret by these monks before you came looking for it. When you found it, you overestimated your stamina and refused to leave without it. But in the end, the prison retained both the Shard and captured you, since you couldn't bear to sacrifice your spoils. Tsk-tsk."
"I almost had it! I would have broken the Shard free if not for the earthquake triggering the spells too early. It was a matter of luck!"
"Yet you failed. Because, forgive me for stating the obvious—"
"Don't you fucking say it, Asmodeus—"
"—because you were too greedy. I swear on the Thrones, an account like this cannot be invented."
"I'm going to rip your balls off and make you swallow them, incubus."
I was still confused, either because I was too fatigued to keep up with the bickering or because I simply couldn't believe what I thought I heard. I waved my hands to get their attention, and they swiftly fell quiet. "So — the Shard was there before you?" I asked. "Where did the monks find the Shard in the first place? Wait. I'm — so you could have gotten out of that prison spell if you'd just left in time? Am I understanding that right?"
"I needed the Shard to keep it from Asmodeus," Mammon growled. "It was the only reason I trekked to the summit. It was the only reason I spent months tracking it all through the mountain range. I crushed half my body for it! The prison sealed up seconds too early. I could have freed the Shard with a little more time, that was all I needed."
He stopped ranting when I laughed. "You think that's funny?" he demanded. "You think I'm lying?"
"No." I waved away his temper, too tired to be afraid of riling him up. But really, the more Mammon hung around, the more I wondered if maybe he wasn't as dangerous as I'd assumed when we first found him under the temple. "I was just reminded of — raccoons."
"What?"
"Raccoons. You can trap them by getting... like a container that's small at the top, only big enough for them to slide their little hands into. Then you put something tasty at the bottom, and they grab it. But when they try to get it out, it's stuck, because a fist is too big to squeeze through the opening now. And no matter what, they will absolutely not let go. All they have to do is release it and they can go free, but..." I pantomimed it in real time, clenching my fist to demonstrate and pretending to try to wrench it out of something. "They won't do it. Raccoons are smart as all get out, but you cannot make them give anything up. If they find something they like, it's game over. You're never getting it back from them."
"... I don't give anything up, either. If I want it, it's mine."
His tone was far too calm and probing all of a sudden to be innocent agreement, but I dismissed that, too. For some reason, I felt much lighter than before — and a lot more tired, too. Strangely enough, I lost all remaining doubts as to whether I could trust the Princes not to kill each other if I went to sleep.
"I need rest before my body kills me," I said plainly. "Let me sleep until the storm passes. And please don't wake me up before then. Thanks."
I pulled the voluminous edges of Asmodeus's robes tight around my chest, lay down, and immediately went to sleep.