Left huddled on the floor, Serkis rocked himself back and forth. His older brother’s premonition echoed menacingly in his psyche. It would for a long time, no doubt.

Swallowing, he slowly rose to his feet. He glanced toward the ceiling, sensing Sueiry on the second floor and fast asleep. Now was the best time to leave, though he couldn’t go far.

He manifested the dagger and its belted scabbard in his hand. Now that it was sheathed, it didn’t sting as much. He stared at it.

Why are we here? he articulated to Jasck.

Because she is one of ours.

He slowly nodded. It made sense but still didn’t settle with them, not anymore. Not after what Boogellooen said—no, warned.

But it was their duty as gods to protect their own. To protect those who gave them power, those who revered and worshiped them. It was a natural part of a god’s existence.

Over the many epochs, they had kept their witches safe from other deities and beings that tried to eradicate them. They never had a reason to go so far as to protect a single one of them before.

What made this different?

He frowned. “She wasn’t even calling us,” he whispered.

No, but she’s like that other one…

His face twisted into a pained scowl. “Dammit, Jasck, we agreed never to speak of her.” He dismissed the similarities, lifting his hat from the floor to don it. “There’s something else, anyway. If we don’t take care of this, the rest of our people may be next.”

He recalled the hunters dressed in white. Whoever they were, they were given a tool—or tools—to hurt them. He could only imagine what it would do to a Dark witch.

Nodding in an attempt to convince himself, he disappeared from the house.

He reappeared outside, observing the building. It was a small old two-story house perfect for one person. The outdoor’s crisp autumn air helped him clear his thoughts, and he suddenly took note that Sueiry had yet to choose a familiar. There was much she had to learn, and he couldn’t deny the idea of having a pupil was…interesting, mortal or not. Perhaps if he thought about it this way, he could focus more easily.

Content, he moved to sit in the rocking chair on the porch and shut his eyes.

*    *    *

The sun hadn’t yet broken over the horizon when the sound of the door unlocking and opening brought his gaze to his right. The dark brown door went ajar, and a single brown eye and part of a face peeked out. He softly scoffed with amusement, taking a deep inhale of his cigarette.

“Oh, hello.” Sueiry opened the door entirely, revealing she was wearing a long, fluffy black robe over her equally long midnight nightgown. “I thought you might be out here.”

“Did you now.” He turned his head forward, letting his eyes close.

She made a soft sound. “Good morning.” Her footsteps were soft, and he slanted an eye open to see her approach by a few steps.

He grunted as he yawned, fully closing his eye.

“You didn’t sleep?”

“I didn’t.” He stretched his legs out and laced his fingers together. “I don’t really need to.”

“Then why do you yawn?”

“Good question.” He didn’t answer it.

“I see…”

He lulled in the silence, waiting for her to ask her first question of the day.

He didn’t have to wait long. “Would you…like to eat some breakfast?” she asked tentatively.

He exhaled a puff of smoke. “I don’t eat human food.”

“May I ask what you do eat?”

He glanced off between his eyelids. He briefly considered, but ultimately said, “No.”

“Alright. I will see you, then.”

She retreated into the house, quietly closing the door behind her. He didn’t hear it lock.

“Fuck…” he muttered, covering his face with a hand.

He was hungry.

He took the cigarette from his lips, then slowly licked them. “Izjaszion.”

He waited only a moment before a jovial voice asked, “You called, big bro?”

A similar voice asked, “You’re hungry, aren’tcha?”

“Yeah. I haven’t eaten since before yesterday…” Serkis lowered his hand but didn’t face his youngest sibling.

“Whaddaya want?”

“Something meaty.”

“Oh, lots of options there.” There was a moment of silence. “You okay, Serkis?”

The genuine concern in his brother’s voice prompted him to look off of the porch. Two heavily tattooed young men stood a few feet away from him on the grass with curious grey gazes. They were completely identical, save for their different black and white hair colors, and they dressed in the same open button-down white pinstripe shirts with black pants.

“I imagine you know,” Serkis sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs.

The twins exchanged glances, then nodded apologetically. “Hob’s gone around tellin’ the whole family. Sorry, man,” said the younger twin, the raven-haired Jazzion, with an expression of genuine remorse.

“It’s fine,” Serkis lied.

It must have been obvious as Ission, the white-haired older twin, frowned. “Well…we’ll get something nice for you.” He slightly brightened up. “I got an idea! C’mon.” He pulled his younger twin by his arm, and they shortly disappeared.

Serkis managed a slight smile at his brother’s enthusiasm, but it didn’t last. He glanced at the door, assuming it was left unlocked so he could enter if he wanted. Instead of taking up the offer, he decided to wait until he was needed. That was one of the reasons he was around, after all…

With a sigh, he took the dagger into his hands, scanning it. It occurred to him he hadn’t examined it yet, much to his chagrin, and Jasck hadn’t been given the time to inspect it either. It was going to hurt, in any case, so he unsheathed it quickly and eyed its make.

The intricate long lines and half circles on the deeply curved blade reminded him of the craftsmanship of an elven smith, except that they weren’t known for such a blade shape. He recalled some human weapons with such curves, namely sickles, bringing a crease between his brows. It was the hilt that gave him an obvious answer, as neither elves nor humans used white for their hilts and other species rarely used weapons at all. It was made by a saint blacksmith; the blue baubles upon the hilt and feathers hanging from the end were another giveaway.

But that didn’t make any more sense; saints were only divines, putting them below demigods on the hierarchy of deities that existed in the cosmos. They typically, and expectedly, could not manufacture weapons that could injure a god. Pressing a hand to where he—Jasck—had been stabbed, he recalled how obscenely easy it was to receive the wound. The blade cut through him like warm butter.

“Serkis?”

Lowering the weapon, he glanced to Sueiry who stood in the doorway again. She was dressed in another long black dress, this time with low-cut shoulders, and wore the large silver cross around her neck. He only took note of this, then made a soft grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to deduce the culprit behind the attack yesterday. So far, everything points to a saint, but that shouldn’t be possible, which makes it concerning.” He put the cigarette back to his lips, then raised the weapon by his palms for her to see it in its entirety. “Saints are known to wield lances or staffs, never such a mortal-styled weapon as this. Then there’s the humans who came to attack Jasck…”

Her eyes darted to meet his. “Humans?”

“Aye, humans attacked Jasck yesterday. It wasn’t the saint. They were dressed in white and blue.”

Concern clouded her expression. “I’ve seen them before. They are…” She rubbed her arm with a small shudder. “They hate witches. You could call them witch-hunters.”

“Have you ever personally encountered one?”

“Thankfully, no, save from at a distance, but I’ve heard of the things they do by several busybodies.” She briefly looked around. “It’s one of the reasons why I live so far from the city.”

He nodded with understanding. “This changes things. If the saints and humans are working together, they may already know you live here.”

She wrung her hands once, then seemed to realize what she was doing and lowered them. “Why haven’t they attacked yet, then?”

“Because I’m hovering near. I imagine they don’t want to cause a full-fledged war against me, hence they’ve kept their distance. It’ll only take a moment of letting down my guard…”

He halted, recalling Boogellooen’s exact words. Looking away from her, he lowered the weapon and swallowed; such a mortal action.

“In any case,” he said, moving to stand, “what do you plan on doing today?”

A small smile played on her lips. “Well, because you are here, I was thinking of gathering some items for spells and concoctions…”

“Ah.” He placed the dagger back into its sheathe and hooked it on his belt, then lowered some of his shirt over it. “Plan on doing any prayers?”

When she didn’t respond, he slowed before glancing up at her. She wasn’t looking at him, and deep pain had crossed her features.

“You’ve been praying for some reason?”

A nod.

He played with the cigarette on his lips, rolling it around patiently. “Some important reason?”

She sighed quietly, shutting her eyes. “I have a single friend. She lives far from here, and she’s dying.”

He slightly leaned back, looking off. Of course, it was because of mortality… “Unnatural causes, I imagine?”

“Yes.”

“Typically I wouldn’t ask this, but what were your prayers exactly?” When she looked at him with confused surprise, he explained, “Because of the…mix-up, I’m only aware of the dire nature of the call. We couldn’t hear anything since it wasn’t directed at us; it grazed us, you could say.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t answer prayers for nothing.”

She looked away again. After a moment of thinking, she slowly nodded with a sense of somber, sober understanding.

“Let’s make a deal.” He exhaled smoke from his nose. “A binding deal.”

Her eyes warily met his.

He smirked. “I’m no devil, dearie.”

“No, but you are terrifying.”

An amused chuckle escaped him. “I would hope so.”

“What is this deal?”

He didn’t answer, looking off towards the sunrise. It had rained the night before, giving the air a pleasant, fresh smell. He could sense it was going to be a beautiful day, bright and crisp with some interspersing clouds.

He took a deep toke from his cigarette, then took it between his fingers and snuffed it out in the clasp of his hand. “You have abilities as a human that I, frankly, do not. That may be helpful. Aid in discovering who is manufacturing these weapons, and I will answer your prayer.”

“Is there anything more to that?”

“I will have to protect you, of course.”

“And…is there anything else I must do?”

“No.”

“Alright.” She faced him completely, her stance firm with determination. “I agree.”

“This is a binding contract; if I break it or if you break it, we will suffer…greatly.” He held out his hand, the same one he had dissolved the cigarette in.

She looked at it for only a moment, a strange expression briefly flashing on her face. She then took his hand without faltering.

As he felt the energy of their contract pass through him, he idly noticed how soft and warm her hand was compared to his.

*    *    *

Serkis mulled over his choices as he sat beside Sueiry on the tram into the city. He wasn’t physically there, no; he was once more in her shadow and sitting beside her in the window reflection. She wasn’t staring at him as she had the night before, busy reading the book with the cross on it. He could only guess, but he believed it was her book of shadows, a personal grimoire every human witch had. If it was, she was indeed devoted to her craft if she was willing to carry it in public.

“That’s a nice book.”

He glanced up and to his right at the same moment Sueiry did. A standing woman dressed in a white coat smiled at her, but it wasn’t genuine. His eyes narrowed. A slight shine surrounded her in his vision. She was strongly aligned with Light, the complete opposite of Sueiry.

“Thank you,” said Sueiry, flashing a smile. She began to return to her book when the woman continued talking.

“Are you part of a cult?”

Serkis stared incredulously at the woman, then glanced over to see Sueiry’s reaction.

A strained expression that could pass for polite crossed Sueiry’s face. “Even if I say no, you’ll think so anyway,” she said with sickly sweet cordiality.

He softly chuckled, but his expression dropped when the stranger looked offended. “Not at all!” she scoffed, clearly lying. She made a motion as if she was going to sit, then froze and continued standing. “I’ve never seen someone wear a cross before. What does it mean?”

“It’s part of my religion.”

“Ah, interesting. It’s very nice.”

“Thank you.”

He sensed Sueiry’s discomfort, sighing to himself. He only briefly considered retreating into the shadows when he caught the blue bauble earrings the stranger wore. It could have meant anything. It could have been entirely benign. But while the earrings themselves gave off a dim light, he could see Light inside them.

“This woman is dangerous,” he said, causing Sueiry to slightly tense.

You don’t think she’ll follow me, do you? Sueiry asked him.

He raised a brow. “Has that happened before?”

Yes. The disheartened tone of her thoughts made him purse his lips.

“Then, it is a possibility. She is strongly aligned with Light, as you are with Darkness, and she may have nefarious intentions…”

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know about the burning that happened last week?” the stranger asked with a suspicious inflection.

Sueiry’s expression dropped. Warily, she repeated, “Burning…?”

Instead of waiting for her to reply, Serkis dove into the woman’s mind. It happened in less than a second, but what he retrieved told him all he needed to know.

Citadel of Sainthood. The woman was part of a temple of such Light-aligned people, and they were gathering in the city to hold a public demonstration. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just any sort.

“Sueiry, get off the tram.”

Without hesitation, Sueiry rang the cord to alert the driver she wished to get off. “Sorry,” she said to the woman, putting her book in her satchel, “this is my stop.”

Serkis retreated into her shadow, watching the stranger frown as Sueiry moved into the seat he had occupied. The tram came to a slow halt, and the stranger moved aside by a few inches to allow Sueiry to stand.

“You’re a witch.”

Sueiry nearly balked, but her swift recovery impressed him. The stranger had whispered the words, and Sueiry ignored her, walking through the tram to get off.

He moved through her shadow, then materialized in a nearby alleyway. From where he stood, he could see the stranger staring after Sueiry as she stepped onto the sidewalk. He walked out of the alley and came to Sueiry’s side, watching the stranger intently behind his sunglasses. His eyes narrowed upon observing the expression of shock followed by a slacked jaw that formed on her face.

The tram continued, but the stranger made it painfully obvious that she knew he wasn’t human as she stumbled through the tram, staring openly at them.

Sueiry saw this, and she turned to him once the tram was several measures down the street. “What’s going on?” she asked with a hint of concern.

He shook his head. “Have you heard of the Citadel of Sainthood?”

She nodded. “Only in passing.”

“That woman is a member of their society. They’re against Darkness to a level that surpasses obsession.” He beckoned his head toward a small trinket shop. “You may want to lay low until the next tram comes through; the city isn’t safe right now.”

She nodded, though he could sense her desire to ask more questions.

Only when they were safely across the street and approaching the shop did he growl, “They are executing witches.”

She gasped. “No…” She came to a stop on the sidewalk, looking down the street. “We have to help them!”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I cannot go around helping every witch that needs help.”

“Do you hear their prayers?”

“I hear every Dark witch’s prayers. They, however, are not Dark witches—where are you going?”

“I’m going to help them,” she said, recrossing the street.

He rolled his eyes closed. “Mortals and their stubborn asses,” he muttered, taking a moment to think about it.

He didn’t have to help.

He just had to keep her safe.

With this in mind, he lit his cigarette and followed her.

She ignored him as they waited for the tram to return. He didn’t mind. Instead, he watched her as she ruffled through her satchel, muttering to herself. He would’ve listened in on what she was saying but decided against it. For now.

Serkis.

He was glad to hear his brother through their link. Articulating curiosity, he sensed Jasck materialize nearby.

Glancing back, Jasck exited the same alley he had emerged from before, raising a brow with interest. Jasck was feeling better, but he mainly came back to get away from Hob. Scoffing, Serkis gave his twin a one-armed hug, rumbling softly in his chest.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he murmured.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Jasck sighed, “I had to get away. Hob was becoming annoying.”

“When is he not annoying.”

“Oh, Jasck.” Sueiry had finished looking through her bag and flashed a small smile their way.

Jasck tilted his head at her. “Good morning, Sueiry. Defying a god, I see,” he said with a humored smirk.

She slanted her eyes defiantly. “You don’t have to help them, but I will.”

“And what, exactly, are you going to do?” Serkis rested against Jasck, siphoning amusement from him.

“We’ll see when we get there.”

“What obligation have you to them?”

“None. But we are sisters, regardless.” She observed their expressions of half-astonishment, half-confusion and shook her head. “Perhaps it is something you can’t understand.”

Jasck gave an acquiescing nod. “Perhaps. Anyway, Serkis, this may be a good thing, seeing the saints again.”

“In what possible way? They will know exactly when we arrive.” Serkis motioned to the weapon at his waist. “Especially if we’re carrying the dagger.”

“We need to solve the mystery of this weapon, and even more so if there are others.” Jasck cracked a slant-eyed smirk. “You’re not intimidated by mere saints, are you, brother?”

A low, irritated growl slipped past Serkis’ lips. “Fuck you. I’ll make sure you get stabbed again.”

Jasck smiled fondly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Great. We’re off, then.”

Sueiry softly laughed at them. She turned to the direction of the lower street, placing a hand horizontally over her eyes to squint ahead. “The next tram should be some ten minutes from now.”

Sighing, Serkis looked into his brother’s eyes behind his thick sunglasses. “This is not a good idea,” he said so only he could hear.

“I agree.” Jasck grinned. “But it will be fun.”