Burn The Ashes: No Rest For The Wicked

[No Rest For The Wicked]

Chernabog's defeat saw the end of his little insurrection. The Black City seemed to be linked to his power and with it gone, it crumbled away.

​Though the battle was rather quick, all things considered, the aftermath was a bit trickier. Though the skirmish lasted less than an hour, several Devils had been injured and required medical treatment. None had died, thankfully, but it spoke to their training that triage was needed at all.

​Caílte, of course, hadn't so much as broken a sweat.

​“Gods above, that was magnificent!” The man had clapped her on the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “Your display was a sight to behold; I almost thought you'd gone and ascended to godhood yourself when you scalped that tower, Mo dhlúthchara!”

​“To defeat a being proclaiming itself as a god, I find that overwhelming firepower is usually the way to go.” Tanya had responded, and his resulting laugh was almost louder than the persistent ringing in her ears.

​The next order of business after regrouping was dealing with the masses. Tanya's battle with Chernabog had been a frightful display and more than loud enough to wash over dozens upon dozens of miles of the Underworld. Nobles in neighboring territories would be wondering what was going on.

​Tanya left that particular issue to the department itself. She had no interest in managing relations with every minor noble who'd felt a tremor and decided it was their business to know why.

​Finally, came the debrief. While the injured were healing and Chernabog's power slipped into the ether bit by bit, Tanya found herself placed before her mentor's desk, hands placed primly behind her back as she awaited his judgment.

​Of course, she had a feeling she already knew what it would be. It had been quite a while since she had seen a superior look as pleased with her work as Falbium did right in that moment.

​“How are you feeling?” he asked as the seconds ticked by. Tanya rolled her shoulder with a short shake of her head.

​“Chernabog's magic doesn't seem to have left any lingering effects,” she said primly. Falbium watched her for a moment, as if searching for proof that she was lying, before his expression lightened.

​“It's not every day a single Devil manages to go toe-to-toe with a god and not only live, but defeat that same god so soundly.” He sounded almost impressed, as if he and many people he knew couldn't do the same thing. “Oh, don't get that look on your face. Remember, you're still a child. This is incredibly impressive.”

​“Hopefully impressive enough to satisfy the nobility,” Tanya sighed, loosening her posture.

​“They can be rather vicious in their opinions,” Falbium agreed. “Though after this, I don't think many of them will have the gall to doubt your strength. But I assume that's what you were going for.”

​“I have no idea what you're referring to,” Tanya said glibly. “I saw a threat to the continued prosperity of the Underworld and I dealt with it with due decisiveness. Nothing more.”

​“Indeed.”

​Falbium leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly as he regarded her with that particular look he reserved for moments when he was about to say something she wouldn't like.

​“That said,” he continued, and Tanya felt her hackles rise in anticipation, “the notion that this situation arose at all is... concerning.”

​“I agree,” Tanya said. “Chernabog should not have been able to do even a fraction of what he did and still remain beneath our notice. The fact that he did is an insult, and even more evidence of the need for a centralized military. If Chernabog had the brain cells to spare on a more tactical plan, it is quite possible he may have been able to do some actual damage before we noticed him.”

​“You're not wrong,” Falbium agreed easily, “but you have a lot more posturing to do if you'd like to enact that kind of change. Perhaps wait until you are closer to achieving your goal before you decide to alienate half the ruling class.”

​Tanya nodded, ceding his point. Though this was a good step in the way of increasing her political weight, it was only that, a step. Decimating an invading force and defeating a being like Chernabog would put eyes on her. She was at a crucial juncture where she could either prove herself worthy of his seat, or fall flat on her proverbial face.

​“We'll need to organize a meeting with the Pillars at the very least. House Berith's territory is secure, but there is no telling what might be going on in the larger estates. We need to make some inroads in that direction.”

​“I'll see it done,” Falbium nodded, marking a note on a nearby piece of paper. The speed at which he agreed to her suggestion surprised Tanya somewhat, but she supposed she had more than earned it at this point.

​Suddenly, a knock came at the door. Tanya turned to the door and then back to Falbium with a raised eyebrow, “Are you expecting someone?”

​Falbium seemed to suddenly get very, very tired. “No, but I know who that is. Let her in.”

​Somewhat confused, Tanya did as he asked. She had barely had the chance to unlock the door before it suddenly flew open, causing her to stumble backwards.

​A blur of raven and pink followed her into the room, quickly resolving itself into an unfamiliar figure. And yet, as the smiling cherubic face leaned down until it was almost nose to nose with Tanya's, she knew exactly who this was.

​“She's so cute!” Serafall Leviathan squealed as she wrapped her arms around Tanya and made a go at squeezing the life out of her. “I can't believe you've been keeping her all to yourself, Falbium!”

​Falbium sighed while Tanya did her best not to react in any way that might upset her superior as the woman pressed her into her rather ample breasts. She'd heard that the current Leviathan was... eccentric, but she did not know exactly how far said eccentricities reached, or if she'd become angry when they were denied to her.

​So Tanya bore with it until she couldn't any longer. It was only when she felt oxygen was an immediate concern that she reached up, pressing a finger to the woman's neck in hopes it would provide a reaction that would lead to her release.

​“Oh! I'm sorry!” Thankfully, it did. Tanya breathed in gulps of air as the woman danced backwards, giggling high in her throat. “You're just so adorable I can't resist! Look at you in your little suit, acting all proper!”

​Tanya coughed, adjusting her tie with stiff fingers. “Lady Leviathan, I—”

​“Call me Sera-tan.”

​Tanya's eye twitched and she fought to regain her composure. She absolutely would not be doing that. “…Lady Serafall,” she began again, ignoring the woman's pout. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

​Serafall's pout only lasted a heartbeat before it was wiped off of her face by a bright grin. She skipped further into the office, hopping up onto the edge of Falbium's desk without so much as a by-your-leave, her legs swinging like a child sitting on a park bench.

​“Well, as the Head of Foreign Affairs, it's my job to know what's going on beyond our borders!” she said, tapping a finger to her chin. “And something very interesting happened just beyond our borders, didn't it? A great big scary god decided to throw a tantrum right on our doorstep!”

​“An investigation is already underway,” Falbium said in a tone that suggested he was used to dealing with the woman. “Tanya and I have teams assessing the remnants of the Black City.”

​“Oh, there's no need for that!”

​Falbium paused. “Pardon?”

​Serafall's grin widened. “I was contacted directly by one of the attackers.”

​Before either Tanya or Falbium could respond to that, there was another knock at the door, this one much quieter. Yet it was heard easily by all parties.

​Falbium looked at Serafall, his expression resigned as she grinned back. He waved a hand, “Come in.”

​The door opened and an exceptionally tall man stepped through. He was lean, dressed in a suit that was tailored perfectly to his form. His hair was dark as ink, swept back from his face save for a single white strand that fell across his brow, between his icy blue eyes.

​Those same eyes met hers and Tanya blinked as a wave of recognition passed through her. It was a strange sensation. She had never seen this person and yet the moment their gazes locked, she knew she had met him before.

​“You,” she breathed. “The headless horseman.”

​“The very same,” the man confirmed, inclining his head. His voice was smooth, carrying a faint accent she couldn't quite place. “I must apologize for the dramatics during your battle. I felt it best to make a good first impression.”

​“You've met?” Falbium said, leaning forward.

​“Indeed, though under a different guise.” The man's eyes swept across the room, taking in each of them. “You may call me Connal, if it pleases you. I appreciate your willingness to hear me out.”

​“Of course! We're nice people when you get to know us!” Serafall leaned back on her palms, her legs still swinging. Despite the childish posture, Tanya noticed that her eyes were sharp. The woman wasn't nearly as airheaded as she let on.

​Connal inclined his head toward Serafall, a ghost of a smile crossing his features. “Indeed. The Council will certainly remember your generosity.”

​Falbium leaned forward, and Tanya was surprised to see a gleam of steel in the ancient Devil's eyes. “I assume you're referring to the Council of Death.”

​“The very same,” Connal confirmed. “Chernabog was once a member of our Court, as I'm sure your records indicate.”

​“Records that haven't been updated in centuries,” Falbium muttered, rubbing his temples. “We knew the Council existed. That was about the extent of it.”

​Tanya frowned unsurely at the unfamiliar name. She was completely in the dark as far as this subject was concerned. “I apologize for the interruption, but who or what is the Council of Death?”

​Connal's attention shifted to her, and she was suddenly struck by just how utterly still he held himself. Though he had approached with friendly intentions, he was still in a room with two of the most powerful Devils in the entire history of the Underworld. And yet, he didn't seem concerned in the slightest about what said power might have in store for him.

​“The Council of Death is a gathering of death gods and spirits who rule over other regions of the Underworld,” Connal explained. “It is an old entity, dating back to before your Lucifer fell from Heaven.”

​“They control the areas of the Underworld where we don't or can't live,” Serafall chimed in. “Places lower or just too far away from where we settled. The Underworld is a big place and a lot of gods call it home.”

​“Most of them hold a rather dim view of Devils,” Connal added. “There are members of the Court who would prefer all of the Underworld fall under their jurisdiction. The majority, however, are content to maintain the status quo so long as boundaries are respected.”

​“Chernabog was not among that majority,” Tanya surmised.

​“He was not. Chernabog held a seat on the Court for millennia, but his views were considered extreme and his actions were certainly not permitted by anyone but himself. Once he made his intentions clear, he was formally stripped of his position and had his authority revoked.”

​“Yet he was still able to marshal enough power to march on Devil territory,” Falbium noted.

​A fair criticism. If the Council of Death had known Chernabog was a problem and had done nothing to prevent his little excursion, then they were at least partially complicit.

​Connal, to his credit, did not bristle at the accusation. “The Court is not a unified body, Lord Asmodeus. Stripping Chernabog of his seat limited his official power. It did not strip him of the power he had already accumulated over millennia.”

​“Leaving your group completely free of any actual blame,” Tanya noted with some annoyance.

​“The Council holds itself responsible for its members. That is precisely why I was dispatched. Now that his corporeal form has been destroyed, his soul will be returned to the Court for judgment. Ensuring that transition was one of two tasks placed upon me.”

​He paused, his blue eyes settling on Tanya once more.

​“The second matter,” he said slowly, “pertained to you.”

​Her? What could this Council possibly want with her? She had not known of their existence but a scant few minutes ago. How exactly had she caught their attention?

​“Is that so?” Tanya asked.

​“You were mentioned by name,” Connal said. “Or rather, by title. The child of the loom. A Devil whose relationship with death is as intimate as those who control its very principles. Your appearance was prophesied eons ago, as were your actions.”

​Serafall made a noise of confusion, and even Falbium seemed lost until he looked at his young protégé and noticed how carefully still she had gone.

​Tanya fought very hard not to react to Connal's words. That was the third time she had heard that title: Child of the Loom.

​It seemed a strange title, even upon first utterance, but nothing more. She had given it little thought, even when Chernabog himself addressed her as such with his final breath. But Connal's words cast it in a new light, a worrying one.

​If she were an optimist, she might have simply disregarded it. Phenexes had a strange relationship with death by their very nature, and had for millennia. Yet Tanya knew for a fact that her family's unique abilities were not what Connal was referring to.

​“What exactly does this prophecy say?” Tanya questioned.

​Connal regarded her for a long moment, and she got the distinct impression he was deciding how much to share.

​“It indicates that the child of the loom shall change the supernatural world,” he finally said. “For better or for worse.”

​Tanya clicked her tongue. What a useless bit of prophecy. Change the world for better or for worse? How exactly did that make her any different from literally anybody in this room? Assuring Ravel's potty training could be considered changing the world for better or for worse. The prophecy meant literally nothing if the scope of the changes weren't revealed.

​“At any rate, the prophecy itself is not mine to interpret,” Connal continued after a moment's pause. “My master expressed an interest in your activities and bade me investigate. That is the sum of what I was told and that is what I have done.”

​“I see,” Tanya sighed, resisting the urge to rub her forehead. “And now that you've investigated, what comes next?”

​“I have been ordered to watch over you for the foreseeable future.”

​Tanya's eyes narrowed intensely. “Is that so?”

​“And you're telling us this openly?” Falbium asked, leaning back in his chair. “I feel like staying quiet about it would have made more sense.”

​“I could have,” Connal agreed. “But I find that honesty serves better than subterfuge when one's intentions are benign.”

​Tanya studied him for a long moment. His expression was open, his posture relaxed, and his eyes held hers without a trace of deception that she could detect. Of course, a being associated with death gods could likely lie to her face without any visible tells, but for now, she would take him at his word. If nothing else, announcing his intentions openly suggested a level of transparency. That, she could work with.

​“What exactly does 'watching over' entail?” she pressed. “I have no intention of being shadowed every moment of every day by someone I barely know.”

​Connal shook his head. “My orders are not so rigid as you might assume. I was given a task, but the manner in which I carry it out is largely left to my discretion.”

​He straightened slightly, meeting her eyes. “In that spirit, I would like to make a rather daring request.”

​Tanya raised a brow. “Which is?”

​“Allow me to join your peerage.”

​Silence reigned and Tanya fought not to let her surprise show. Daring was right. She certainly hadn't expected that.

​Tanya studied him for a long moment, trying to glean the reason behind such a bold proposition. Connal's expression gave nothing away.

​“You already serve a master,” Tanya said, her tone curious. “What exactly would he have to say about you binding yourself to a Devil of all things? I've no interest in accepting a piece whose loyalty lies elsewhere.”

​Connal's bearing shifted, as if he'd anticipated the question. “My master is not the possessive sort, nor am I bound to him by anything but duty. He has given me leave to choose in this matter, and I have chosen.”

​“And why exactly have you chosen?” Tanya pressed.

​“Your defeat of Chernabog. That is what interests me.”

​A simple reason, and yet more questions arose. “You seek a good fight?”

​Connal smiled softly, ponderously, “I have lived a very long time, Tanya Phenex. I have watched kings rise and fall, gods wage war against gods, and civilizations crumble into dust. Most stories are predictable in their telling, and yet... I find myself fascinated.”

​He tilted his head, regarding her with a curious gaze. “Chernabog would have soundly defeated most Devils, yet you sent him away just as easily. The power and skill you hold is well beyond your years, and I find myself intrigued for reasons that go beyond duty. I would like to see where your story goes.”

​So he was treating this as a form of entertainment? She supposed if she were an immortal being with nothing better to do, she'd seek interest anywhere she could as well. But was such a reason worth true loyalty?

​Tanya looked to Falbium, then to Serafall. Neither Satan spoke, and both of their expressions seemed carved from stone. Falbium watched her with lidded eyes, while Serafall sported a soft smile that gave nothing away.

​Tanya suppressed a flicker of irritation. They were testing her. She would not receive their counsel in this matter.

​As if I ever needed someone to hold my hand. Tanya drew herself up, squaring her shoulders and projecting as much authority as her tiny body would allow.

​“I would be happy to have you serve,” she spoke clearly. “You seem capable enough, and polite on top of that. Though we barely know each other, I would be lying if I said you didn't interest me as well.”

​Connal began to smile, “I am glad to hear—”

​“But let me make something clear.” Connal froze as Tanya's power washed over him. Papers flew from Falbium's desk as a deep orange glow spread from Tanya's skin, tongues of power lapping at the air like the flames of a bonfire.

​The Satan sighed as Tanya stepped forward, staring into the horseman's eyes. “I will not accept a piece who places another above their King. If you join my peerage, you will renounce your master and serve me and me alone. My interests become your interests. My enemies become your enemies. My orders come before all else, including whatever curiosity drives you. Are we clear?”

​Connal dropped to one knee, kneeling before her. Their height difference was almost comical; he was so tall that even kneeling, his head rose above hers. And yet his posture was one of pure submission.

​“I so renounce him,” he said, inclining his head in what was unmistakably a gesture of genuine deference. “My master gave me the freedom to choose, and I have chosen you, Tanya Phenex. I will serve no other above you.”

​Tanya regarded him for one more breath, searching for any hint of insincerity. She found none.

​“Very well.”

​She held out a hand, and Tanya's power crested. A single Knight piece appeared between her fingers, malformed and pulsing with a strange light.

​“A mutated piece?” Serafall whispered as Tanya strode forward and held it above Connal's bowed head.

​“I, Tanya Phenex, welcome this soul into my service,” Tanya spoke clearly. “I bestow upon thee this Piece and the role it would serve. Accept, and be reborn into the service of the House of Phenex as my Knight.”

​The piece glowed and the pact was sealed with a gentle pressure upon the crown of Connal's head. Tanya's magic flared one last time, a tiny sliver of her power seeping into her new subordinate, claiming him as hers until fate saw fit to rend them apart.

​“Do not disappoint me,” Tanya commanded as her power settled and Connal raised his head. “And if you try to betray me, I will make sure you suffer a fate much worse than Chernabog's.”

​Connal merely nodded, meeting her eyes solidly. “As you say, my King.”

​A sudden clap reminded them that they weren't the only ones in the room. Serafall strode up to them, a wide smile on her face.

​“Well, that was a fun little display! I can't say I expected that.”

​“Neither can I,” Falbium chimed in, eyeing Tanya. “What happened to being selective with your pieces?”

​“What happened to needing strong allies?” Tanya shot back a bit childishly. “Connal would be hanging around either way to keep an eye on me, as he already stated. May as well put him to work if he's going to be loitering.”

​“Hm. Touché.” Falbium glanced at Serafall who merely smiled. “If that's your rationale, I expect it won't take long to fill your ranks.”

​“We'll see.” Tanya glanced at the Satans, feeling the unspoken tension in the air. Clearly, they had something to talk about. “If that is all?”

​Falbium waved a dismissive hand. “That's all. Get some rest, Tanya. You've earned it.”

​Tanya inclined her head, turning on her heel. Connal rose from his kneel in a single fluid motion, falling into step behind her without a word. As they reached the door, Serafall's voice called out one last time.

​“Take care of yourself, little Phenex! And come visit sometime, okay? I'm much less boring than this lazy guy!”

​Tanya didn't trust herself to respond politely, so she simply nodded and closed the door behind her. Once in the hall, she turned to Connal, speaking primly. “You'll need quarters. I'll arrange something in the Phenex estate once we return.”

​“I appreciate that,” Connal said as they began to walk. His footsteps were nearly silent despite his height. “Though I should mention that I require very little in the way of accommodations. A byproduct of what I am.”

​“A dullahan, correct?”

​“Among other things.”

​Tanya glanced at him, noting something. “Where is your horse? I was under the impression that your kind could not stray far from their steeds?”

​“She is around,” Connal said, glancing up. Tanya followed his gaze and blinked as a pair of sharp blue eyes gazed down at her from above. A kitten with fur as black as pitch was perched in the rafters above, following along just as silently as her master.

​Connal held an arm out and the kitten didn't hesitate to leap onto it, quickly clambering up to his shoulder to stare at Tanya with intelligent eyes.

​“She prefers this shape when not needed for travel,” Connal explained, reaching up to scratch his companion behind the ears. “It's more conducive to napping, apparently.”

​Tanya stared at the kitten for a long moment, then turned and continued walking without comment.

​Liltotto Lamperd crunched loudly on her cracker, coming dangerously close to spilling crumbs all over the sofa she was lying on. She had a magazine spread out in front of her face, staring down into it from where she was lounging on her stomach.

​On the couch across from her, Giselle was humming a happy tune to herself as she ran her hands through Bambietta's hair, twisting the black strands into braids. The zombie was on her knees between the girl's legs, slack-jawed and staring off into space as she worked.

​The rest of their girls were just sorta hanging around. Candice was slumped over a chair, staring at the ceiling, while Meninas was looking out a nearby window or maybe at her reflection, running her hands through her hair with gentle strokes.

​It was a pretty peaceful moment compared to the shit they'd been through recently, but it was still missing something. Liltotto knew what it was, of course. Just like she knew that there was no way to get it back unless someone could resurrect a four-month-old corpse back to some semblance of actual life instead of this fucked up unlife they were perpetually stuck in.

​Liltotto doubted even the Devils could accomplish that at this point. Gigi sure as hell couldn't, and neither could a literal god of death and darkness or whatever. It sucked, but this would have to do.

​Giselle's humming paused suddenly. Liltotto glanced up to find the other girl looking at her. “What?” she asked, feeling the question in her friend's eyes.

​Giselle shrugged, “I was just wondering how much longer we're gonna wait here. I'm getting kind of bored.”

​Liltotto turned a page and shrugged. “Tanya's in a meeting or something. Could be a while.”

​“That's not what I meant.” Giselle resumed her braiding, though her movements had slowed. Her voice was still light, still airy, but there was something underneath it now. “How long are we gonna wait here?”

​Oh.

​Liltotto sat up slowly, looking at her friend who'd returned to braiding Bambietta's hair. “You wanna go back to Earth, huh?”

​Giselle's hands stilled in Bambietta's hair for just a moment before resuming their rhythm. The zombie between her knees didn't react to the change. Bambi never reacted to much of anything anymore. “Yeah, it stinks down here, and my skin's getting all pallid.”

​“You've been pallid since the day I met you.”

​“More pallid, then,” Giselle said cheerfully.

​Liltotto considered the question. The truth was, she'd been wondering the same thing for a few days now. Kinda. Mostly, one question kept rolling around in her head.

​What now?

​She got her friends back, Gigi had her zombies, and they were safe. It was nice to pretend everything was all wrapped up in a nice little bow, but it wasn't. They were together, yeah, but they still didn't have anywhere to go.

​What now?

​“Hey, Gigi.”

​“Hm?”

​“What's the plan?”

​Giselle paused and looked up, her wide blue eyes blinking with genuine confusion. “The plan for what?”

​Liltotto sat up fully, letting the magazine slide off the arm of the couch as she turned to her friend. “I mean, what's the plan! What are we going to do for the rest of our lives?”

​Candice shifted in her chair across the room, muttering something incoherent before going still again. Meninas didn't seem to notice, still staring out the window at the darkening sky.

​Giselle's grin faltered just a bit. “What do you mean?”

​“Don't play dumb,” Liltotto huffed. “We go back to Earth, then what? We wander around again, maybe find some abandoned building to squat in for a couple months before the Church or some other faction catches wind of us and comes knocking?”

​Giselle looked unsure for a second, then she shrugged.

​“We'd be fine,” she said, her hands resuming their motion. “We've always been fine eventually, no matter how hard things get.”

​It was true, or at least Liltotto thought it was. As she glanced down into her former “leader's” empty eyes though, she wasn't so sure.

​Liltotto let out a long, slow breath, tipping her head back against the couch cushion and staring up at the ceiling.

​“I'm tired, Gigi,” she said quietly.

​Giselle's hands gripped Bambietta's hair harshly, drawing a pained groan from the zombie. She slowly looked up at Liltotto, who didn't move.

​“You want to stay here, don't you?”

​Liltotto didn't answer immediately, though not because she was afraid of how dark Giselle's tone had suddenly gotten. She'd never been scared of Giselle, of any of them, really.

​“Would it be so bad?” she finally asked. “We've got food, beds, and nobody's trying to murder us right now. That's more than we've had since Yhwach fucked us over and tried to kill us.”

​And mostly succeeded. God, she wished one of the others would say something. Wished they could say something without Giselle's say-so.

​Giselle hummed in consideration, looking down at where her fingers were still curled in her zombie's scalp. After a second, she released Bambietta's hair, patting the zombie on the head like one might pat a dog, and leaned back into the couch with her hands in her lap.

​“I guess it wouldn't be the worst thing,” she admitted, her voice light. “The Devils are nicer than the Exorcists, at least.”

​“Not a high bar,” Liltotto muttered, remembering what her friends had been subjected to under their “care.” She was surprised there was enough left of Meninas for them to put back together.

​“As long as we're together, we'll be fine,” Giselle continued in a much brighter voice. She smiled, and this time it looked almost genuine. “That's all that matters, right? The five of us.”

​Liltotto glanced at Bambietta, still kneeling on the floor with her half-finished braid, and at Candice and Meninas, who had barely moved. The five of them. Technically.

​“…Yeah,” Liltotto said quietly. “As long as we're together.”

​The peace resumed, though marred by a light tension. Liltotto was halfway through reading the magazine backwards when the door suddenly opened and Tanya strode in, shadowed by an unfamiliar figure.

​Liltotto looked up, locking eyes with the guy and tilting her head. He seemed kinda familiar, but she couldn't really put her finger on how or why.

​He also had a cat on his shoulder, which was kinda cool. Liltotto didn't even know they had cats down here.

​Before anyone could say anything, Giselle looked up from where she was braiding Bambietta's hair, grinning at Tanya. “Hey, is it okay if we live here forever?”

​Tanya froze in the doorway, stared at Giselle as if the girl had somehow started speaking hieroglyphics, then slowly turned to Liltotto, clearly hoping for some sort of explanation.

​Liltotto offered her no such thing, popping a cracker in her mouth and chewing loudly, “What she said.”