Crow

The one above all sits on his throne. His palace is his domain, mostly inaccessible from the human realm. The throne itself is made of pure gold, and most of the objects in the throne room share that descriptor. A human dancer wearing rather revealing clothing dances before God. Her just being here is an honor to her and her people. Her display is flamboyant, the display in the king's honor. Two women assisting the dancer swing around golden ribbons as if they're jump ropes. They all perform their function with the utmost perfection, almost as if they're afraid of what will happen to them if they embarrass themselves before God. The dancing woman throws herself about. As she leaps, her assistants struggle to toss diamond dust into the air. The dust hits the woman, dazzling on her skin. She spins in the air, lighting the room like a disco ball. As she lands, an angel bursts through the door. As the angel bursts through, everything stops. The angel runs up to the throne and kneels.

"M'lord. I regret to inform you that the rebellion's new leader has been spotted in Lenon. We've lost an angel so far." the angel says.

God looks down on the angel. He stays silent for a moment as if the angel isn't deserving of an immediate response, or even one at all. He looks down on his creation in disappointment at its incompetence. Despite how he feels, his face is so handsome and gentlemanly that it seems as if it would be impossible for negative words to leave his mouth.

"Do you understand that you just interrupted this beautiful woman's dance? For my own sakes, you better have a good reason for this." God says.

"Sire! The rebellion's leader has been spotted in the town of Lenon!" the angel shouts.

"Why do you believe this to be relevant to me?" God asks.

"Sire. I'd think you'd want to know. That last rebellion leader caused quite a stir before you stepped in. If this new one is even remotely as competent, it could be a problem."

"So you're telling me that you just toss in the towel. That quick. The audacity. You lazy angels love the power and authority I grant you, yet the power seems to be absent the second you actually need to use it. I should bust a fucking hole in your chest for your even thinking the information is relevant to me. Not to mention after only one casualty." God says. "All right. I'll tell you what. If this so-called 'issue' isn't resolved in the next hour, I'll handle it. You interrupting my entertainment doesn't reflect well on you."

Myleth and Crosith trot through a foggy street at midnight. They run through the thick fog, their stomps echoing through the ghost town. The sheets of fog blind the two, leaving them oblivious to the shadows that lurk. They stay silent so as to not bring any unwanted attention. They move as fast as their injuries allow.

"We're half dead. How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?" Myleth says in a low tone.

"I have a wagon nearby. We just need to keep going. Once we get to the wagon, it should be a little less tricky to make it out of here." Crosith whispers.

The two then get back to moving. After just a few moments, Myleth bumps into someone, knocking them off their feet and onto their back. A grunt of pain is let out as the body slams against the brick. Myleth stops, Crosith noticing the stopping of his feet. She soon follows.

"What are you doing? Sticking around for too long is going to get us caught." Crosith says.

"Hold on," Myleth says. Myleth looks around in the fog for the body.

"Myleth is too young and inexperienced to know that allocating our scarce resources to charity will only get in our way in a war like this." Crosith thinks to herself.

From the ledge of a nearby streetlight, a red-eyed crow watches. It watches closely as if the fog doesn't obscure their vision in the slightest.

"I apologize. Let me help you up." Myleth says.

Myleth bends down and helps the person to their feet. As their hand makes contact, they can feel that the person's hand is veiny, yet firm. As if the person is an older gentleman.

"Thank you." The man says.

"What are you doing outside?" Crosith asks the man.

"I was working at the nearby flower shop. Then they called the curfew. Something about terrorists or something. I was rushing to get home, but an old dog like me has trouble trying to make such long distances in such a short time." the man says.

"Are you ok walking the rest of the way?" Myleth asks.

"Myleth!" Crosith shouts, forgetting to whisper.

"No, that's fine. I live over by the theater around the corner," he says.

"We sure hope so too. Just make sure you get home safely."

"And I hope the same for you both." the man says as he walks off. As he walks, he whistles a homey tune to comfort himself on the gloomy fog road.

A man in a black cloak sits on the roof of a building. He shares the eyes of the crow on the lamppost, controlling it like a drone. A scythe made of midnight energy sits in his lap. The construct itself doesn't look solid, instead looking like it was sculpted of a sort of shadow energy. Under the cloak, he is simply a skeleton. The cloak also helps him blend into the night.

"I have my sights on them, Lunith." the skeleton says.

"Perfect." Lunith's pitch-black tongue slithers.

Lunith sits on top of a spear constructed of midnight energy. The spear hovers a few inches away from the edge of the rooftop. Not much can be seen about how he looks under the cloak, but he has a nose ring and his eyes have a lifeless crimson color. One look into his eyes would tell you that he has no connection to his humanity. The energy the two give off is magical, like the one of a sigil. But it's different. As it is magical, the aura they give off is more sinister. They both practice a sort of dark art. In this world, there are many schools of the mystic arts. Yet the school of the soulless is the most controversial.

Crosith grabs Myleth by the hand, walking him in the direction of their carriage.

"We could get fucking killed out here, you know. We don't have the luxury of stopping to be courteous." Crosith says. Myleth attempts to look at Crosith in disappointment, the fog is too thick for him to see her well as she walks off. He follows. The two finally reach her shabby wagon. They board the wagon, Crosith wasting no time in taking off. "I mean, this entire town could be swarming with angels in a few minutes for all I know. There could be a fucking pyromancer ready to torch this carriage this very second. Hell, this thing could be trapped as we speak. I have no idea how many are tracking us down, but it's safe to assume that only the most competent of the competent would chase down the black wing sigil." An annoyed look dawns on Myleth's face. Listening to authority has never been his thing. "I'm sorry if I come off heartless or annoying. It's just that Gailsmith had years of experience and yet his rebellion still failed in crushing defeat. There still being a rebellion in the first place is a miracle. Yet here we are. Gailsmith's rebellion lives. This time, everything has to be airtight. One day, I'll inevitably die in this mission to fulfill my vendetta. I've come to terms with that. But you won't. I need to teach you how to lead now before I'm gone."

"You sound very dedicated to the cause. I mean, most people hate God, but you're different. It feels more…personal. Why did you join the rebellion?" Myleth asks.

"God took something from me," Crosith says.

"What?" Myleth asks.

"There's no use in opening old wounds."

"If we're going to be doing this together, I need to know about my comrades."

"I understand that, but it isn't something I want to share. If you think it will get in the way of our mission, know that it won't. What he took is something he'll regret. I'm going to take everything from him. I'll destabilize his machine down to the smallest cogs in the machine, even if it kills me. No matter the cost, I will see to it that God's empire falls. That's how dedicated I am."

"Yeah. I was kind of lost on that part. How are we supposed to go about this revenge? I know that this new power is unmatched by most I've met, but it's not necessarily the God-killing kind. What is our plan exactly? I'm sure we're not going to just storm directly into his chambers."

Crosith chuckles.

"Of course not. I figure I'd take the reigns as the leader of the rebellion, while I train you as my successor. Once I see that you are fit, that's when we can carry out what's always been the grand focus of Gailsmith's rebellion. See, there are twelve pillars of God's theocracy. Twelve royal houses, all descendants of God. They have the most powerful sigils in the world. As they all have different values and views on how the world should be ruled, they're still just pieces on his board. Each house shares the same sigil, the leader of the house holding the most powerful variation of that sigil. We assassinate the leader of a house, we rob the house of their sigil completely."

"They've talked about the houses in school, but have never really talked about the nature of their sigils," Myleth says.

"That's to avoid assassination attempts on the throne of a house. I don't put it past them."

"Oh, ok."

While the two ride, the fog slightly lightens up enough for Crosith to see where she's going.

Myleth sits in silence, letting the gloomy setting overtake him. He's leaving the town he grew up in. Even though he's spent his life under intense surveillance from God's force of angels, it hasn't been all bad. He remembers his family sharing a loaf of bread under the warm light of a candle as they shared stories from their day. He remembers friends he had made and avoiding girls at school that would chase him around. He's just moments away from leaving it all behind. Moments away from no longer being able to enjoy the joys of boyhood. A sense of sorrow starts to overcome Myleth, homesickness creeping in before he's even left. Yet before he can let the homesickness weigh down on him to a critical extent, he takes a moment to look up at a crow that follows the carriage. The crow has crimson eyes that weigh down upon Myleth like a magnifying glass on an ant. It gives him the feeling that he's being watched by more than just the crow. Yet, the feeling that the crow emits isn't new to Myleth. Myleth has lived his entire life under the crow. His family only shared bread because they were poor. He knew the friends he did because he had to steal in order to live after losing his family at a young age, his taste for thievery as a hobby only coming after years of doing it. Myleth actually enjoyed his studies and his literature in the earlier grades, leaving it all behind for a life of thievery. As he got more into stealing, the less and less he attended his classes. He only attends school and his merchant work now to keep the angels from questioning his late-night hobbies. He had to avoid the girls who adored him because premarital sex is punishable by death under God's rule. It's as if every aspect of the world has been designed to punish humans. Punish humans for a reason that neither Myleth nor no other human knew. As if they were being punished for the sins of an ancestor they hadn't the pleasure of meeting. Being punished for a sin they'd never truly be told nor understand. And as punishment, they were to live as dead animals in a cage. Beaten suffering corpses that are slowly watched and picked off by a crow that grows hungrier by the moment. He isn't about to leave his hometown. He's about to leave a cage.

As the two get closer to the exit of the city, they hear a loud thud over the hood of the wagon.

"Dammit. I knew it wouldn't have been that simple. While you're busy, I'll get us out of here." she says. Myleth sighs and stands up, his dagger in hand. Myleth looks unto the roof of the wagon, trying to speculate the cause of the thud. Both Crosith and Myleth fall silent as if their life depends on it, Myleth waiting for the slightest hint at the location of their attacker.

"Shit! I have to fight another one of these assholes, and my stomach still hurts from that last fight!" Myleth thinks to himself.

The two wait in silence, the anticipation building. The entire city falls silent, Lunith knowing he's given his location away.

"Damn. So used to walking without making a sound. I forgot how loud a drop like that would be." Lunith thinks to himself. Lunith then smiles, the joy in his mouth contrasting with the soulless look in his eyes. "Fuck it. Guess the silent approach is out the window." he thinks.

Lunith drops his midnight spear through the roof. The spear lands in front of Myleth, the hole in the roof almost portal-like.

"A soulless student!? Fuck." Myleth thinks to himself.

Lunith lands in front of Myleth and his spear. Before Lunith can get the chance to act, Myleth reaches for Lunith's spear. As Myleth's hand makes contact with the spear, he feels a burning sensation in his hand. It's as if he tried to pick up fire. In an attempt to save face in front of his opponent, Myleth slowly moves his hand off the spear as he swallows the pain.

"You idiot. Only one of the school of the soulless are allowed to touch midnight energy. You don't seem like a warrior. How did you get such a powerful sigil?" Lunith asks.

"Selling your soul so you can obtain power. Pitiful." Myleth thinks to himself.

"Now. You two don't look like you're in any sort of shape to fight. Say. You give over the sigil and I'll make your death qui–"

Myleth kicks Lunith in the throat mid-sentence, Lunith letting out a loud gasp as he bumps into the other end of the wagon.

"This guy plays dirty!" Lunith thinks as he swings his spear upwards at Myleth. Myleth manages to avoid the swing by a hair much to Lunith's shock. Myleth then swings his dagger at Lunith's neck, but the swing is intercepted by Lunith's spear. He moves too fast for Myleth to think, Myleth moving on pure instinct. Instinct is sometimes mandatory to think fast in a hobby such as thievery. Lunith then drives Myleth's dagger up into the air. He drives his spear towards Myleth's face, Myleth weaving to the left. As Lunith's spear awkwardly lies suspended in the air, Myleth headbutts Crosith in the nose. Lunith can feel the pain surge through his face as his nose breaks. Simultaneously, his spear disappears into thin air. While a midnight weapon itself is invincible, it requires the user's mental concentration. Concentration with broke with Lunith's nose. Lunith's hands raise to cushion his nose. Not giving Lunith any time to breathe, he kicks Lunith in the nose. The cushioning from Lunith's fingers is non-existent, his nose feeling an intense rush of pain more extreme than when it initially broke.

"Who the fuck are you!" Lunith shouts in pain, his voice slightly distorted.

"You think you're the first devil worshipper I've scrambled with? A bunch of you weirdo cultists go to my school too. You're all the fucking same. So sure of yourselves with your devil powers. Really, all you guys are is weaklings who took shortcuts to power." Myleth says as he slowly walks towards Lunith. He then leans in near Lunith's face. "You're all just bitches who sold their souls to your pitiful lord," Myleth says.

"Watch how you talk about lord Lucifer!" Lunith shouts.

Lunith then uses soulless magic to cancel out the gravitational pull on the wagon's wheels. As the wheels lift the wagon into the air, a black aura appears around them. The wagon begins to lift into the air, the horses at the front losing their composure. The back end of the wagon lifts into the air, the front of the wagon facing the ground as the entire wagon floats up like a balloon. Crosith hops out the front of the wagon before it gets too high. Lunith attempts to summon another spear and use it to hover out of the wagon. As he hovers away, Myleth manages to jump up and grab Lunith by the nose ring. Without hesitation, Myleth lets gravity pull him back down to the inside of the wagon. As Myleth comes down, the nose ring is ripped out of Lunith's nose. This pain causes Lunith to lose concentration, his spear disappearing.

"Myleth!" Crosith shouts.

"Helloth!" Lunith shouts.

The two had called their allies in unison.

As Lunith falls out of the sky, he manages to regain his focus on the spear and save himself. As he flies away, he takes an ordas blunt out of his cloak and lights it.

Crosith uses the sigil on her boot to leap towards the wagon. As she approaches the wagon, the skeleton in the black cloak then answers Lunith's call. Helloth swoops in on a midnight scythe and grabs Crosith by her left wrist. She stares up at it. It is the husk of a human, a product of necromancy magically bound together bone by bone. Its boney hands dig into her wrist, a deep sense of discomfort overcoming her. The skeleton lifts its scythe up as Crosith attempts a pullup. Even though her body is in dire pain from the fight with the angel, she manages to pull through. She finally reaches high enough to grab the bottom of the scythe with her right hand. The burning feeling overcomes Crosith, her letting go almost instantly. The skeleton looks down on her in amusement. If it had a face, it would smile. Crosith, her fight not over yet, uses all of her strength to lift back up and grab the scythe again. Helloth pays her no mind. She swings herself under the spear, swinging back up and kicking Helloth in the face. Helloth falls off the scythe, losing his grip on Crosith. Crosith then uses her sigil to bounce off the scythe. She drops down onto the wagon and picks up Myleth into a bridal position. She then bounces off the wagon, followed by bouncing off the ground. Embarrassed, Myleth almost immediately gets out of his bride-like position. Crosith laughs at his embarrassing display, the laugh hurting from the wounds left by the angel. Despite this, she continues. Helloth falls to the ground behind them. His skeleton shatters on impact like glass, the remains spreading out like dust across the stone. The pieces that are still intact are wiggling about like there's just a little life in them. Lunith lets out a laugh.

"What's so funny? Wasn't that your partner?" Myleth asks.

Lunith walks over to the head of Helloth, not losing the lifeless look in his eyes. As he walks over, he keeps up his laugh. Helloth's head gazes up at Lunith.

"Help. Put me back together." Helloth requests, knowing that the request won't be fulfilled.

Lunith keeps laughing. He raises his foot into the air, dropping it onto Helloth's skull. As Helloth's skull shatters beneath Lunith's boot, the remaining body parts cease to move.

"I just won so many bets," Lunith says, followed by a chuckle. The two look at Lunith in confusion. "You guys don't understand how rich you just made me."

"You're sick," Myleth says, shocked by the lack of bond between partners.

Crosith looks at Lunith with contempt similar to Myleth's.

"A man with no care for his allies! That's contemptible!" Crosith shouts.

Lunith hears a growl from a nearby alleyway. He looks over, completely ignoring the two.

"Excuse me!" Myleth shouts.

Lunith completely shifts his body towards the alleyway.

"I need to finish this quickly!" Lunith thinks to himself.

Lunith bolts towards Myleth and Crosith who are just a short distance away. Before the two can react, Lunith drives his spear into Crosith's stomach. Myleth draws his dagger. Crosith begins to fall back, clenching her wound. Lunith tears the spear out, shifting his focus to Myleth without hesitation. Lunith falls to the ground as Myleth watches on in shock. Crosith attempts to muster her strength to say something, but can't.

Myleth swings his dagger towards Lunith's stomach, Lunith blocking his dagger with his spear. Lunith then kicks Myleth in the stomach, Myleth stumbling back. His feet slide across the stone, Lunith charging at him before he can get the chance to regain his balance. Lunith trips Myleth, Myleth's head slapping against the stone. Pain surges through Myleth's head. Lunith drives his spear towards Myleth, Myleth rolling out of the way. As the spear gets stuck in the ground, Lunith's hands slide down the spear. He then slips to the ground, entirely defenseless.

Myleth gets up, kicking Lunith in the back at the first chance he gets. Myleth prepares to drive his dagger into Lunith's back, but a bark can be heard from the alleyway. Myleth stops, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. Lunith gets up, taking his spear and running in the other direction.

"Fuck this!" he shouts.

Before he can make much of a gap between Myleth and the origin of the bark, a wolf with crimson eyes runs out of the alleyway after Lunith.

"Stay off my kill, asshole." a calm country accent says from the alleyway. Myleth gazes into the alleyway, his eyes being met by disembodied crimson eyes. It's hard to see it through the fog, but these eyes are slightly masked by ordas smoke.

Before Myleth can react to the voice's words, a biting sound can be heard in the distance. This biting sound is followed by an even louder scream. Myleth turns back towards Lunith. Lunith lays struggling on the ground, reaching out for help that is non-existent as the wolf's teeth tear through his right leg.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know you were after the black wing sigil!" Lunith shouts, hoping for mercy.

As the wolf effortlessly shreds through Lunith's leg, he waits for an answer. One he won't get.

The wolf then moves up from Lunith's leg to his stomach, sinking its teeth into Lunith's intestine. Despite pain being slightly numbed for soulless due to their discord with their humanity, Lunith feels the most pain he's ever felt in his life as death slowly approaches. Despite his passing, you wouldn't be able to tell it as his eyes stay the same as they were in life. Cold, soulless, devoid of humanity.

The owner of the voice steps out from the shadows. The man wears a completely black cloak. His hood is off, revealing long black hair and long ungroomed facial hair. Aside from that, his face is very clean. Prince-like in a way. It's as if this isn't the kind of life he was born into, yet he chose it. Despite his face, his cold eyes and ungroomed facial hair contrast with his model-like face. In his mouth lies an ordas blunt, his dosage almost three or four times higher than Lunith's.

"The wreckage. I have…I have healing potions in the wagon's wreckage." Crosith says in a weak voice.

"I don't want to have to kill anyone I don't need to. You guys should just all do yourselves a favor and leave!" Myleth shouts in an attempt to deter the fight from starting. Myleth tries his hardest to stand proud, but inside he's scared.

The man doesn't answer Myleth's plea. Myleth, understanding the weight of the situation he's in and calls upon his black wing sigil. The sigil on his dagger glows as blue astral energy begins to dance through the area. The warrior from earlier appears behind Myleth. A gust of wind rips through the area from the intensity of the warrior's energy as gravity itself gets just a bit heavier. The man's cloak blows open, his body not even flinching in face of the heavy winds. No armor can be seen beneath his cloak, only a black sleeveless shirt, black bloodstained leggings, and crimson boots. The warrior swings his red sword down at the man, his chains rattling in the wind. The man turns his body, using his left arm as a shield. The cloak slides down his arm as the arm raises to catch the blade, revealing his entire left arm to be made of midnight energy. Dark energy leaves out of his left shoulder, shaping a makeshift arm.

"Sorry, kid. Wish I could say you were the first child I've ever had to off in my journey, but that'd be a lie. I can make this quick for you, but there's no scenario here where I can let you walk away with that sigil." the man says, the blunt not slipping in the slightest from his lips.