The downtown district of the city was overcrowded by several people from all creeds and backgrounds. Because of this, it took far longer than an hour for them to arrive. Unfortunately, this also meant they were late.

Jasck and Serkis remained eerily quiet as they walked closer to the green square the demonstration was being held. They slowly passed through the crowds and literal busybodies, people talking and gossiping about the Citadel and its members. They listened to every conversation while keeping a close eye on Sueiry who walked determinedly ahead of them:

“Who are these people in white?”

“They believe in saints, or something.”

“Saints? What are those?”

“No idea.”

“They’ll be doing a demonstration of some kind; something about witches.”

“Witches?”

“Aye, like medicine-folk.”

“Ohh, that’s a term I’ve never heard before…”

Their expressions darkened. It came to their attention that another reason Sueiry may have lived on the outskirts of this southern-Clovurian city was because witches weren’t well known. In other parts of Clovure, namely the northeastern portion, witches were believed to be evildoers, among other unsavory beliefs; it was something the immigrants from Europe brought over. This, of course, clashed strongly with the beliefs of the Clovurian people.

Overall, the northeast was a mess for witches.

Further ahead, on the large green land, a mass of people dressed in white and blues stood around with torches of fire. Much to Jasck and Serkis’ ire, it wasn’t just any. They were Light-based fires capable of burning only that which was aligned with Darkness.

These white-clad people undoubtedly thought they were high and mighty, righteous, good…

The brothers scowled deeply.

Such people, and their beliefs, were sickening.

“May I have your attention!” a voice spoke over the murmurs and conversations around them.

Focusing on the voice’s direction, they saw a man standing atop a large box. Dressed in a white, belted tunic, he used a loudspeaker to reach across the crowd.

They weren’t in the mood to guess what was what; they entered the man’s mind and took a look around. There were blocks, metaphorical walls, set up in the man’s psyche, likely done by a saint. Impressive overall, but it meant nothing against them.

While no one of great importance, the man was a devout follower of the Citadel’s order. He was high enough on the rungs that he knowingly met two saints along with three more he hadn’t known were in their human forms. Their plan today was to convert more people to their cause and demonstrate the “evil” of witches by executing seven women, all of whom were indeed witches.

Wait…

Two of them were…

Dark witches!

They could sense it through the man’s memories, see the women’s true forms. One was a muscheron, the other, a pumpion.

Why can’t we hear them…?

Leaving the man’s mind, they reached out with their senses and found the dark witches in a large tent alongside the other five women somewhere further on the green. All seven were bound, blinded by a blindfold, and gagged. Save for them, the tent was empty with several members of the order walking about outside.

“Jasck? Serkis?”

Blinking, they returned to the present to see Sueiry standing in front of them with a look of concern.

“You…may want to calm down, I think,” she said softly.

Serkis glanced around to see a large space had been made between them and the other members of the crowd. This time, people were staring, fear and confusion stark on their faces. “I see,” he muttered, eyes slanting behind his sunglasses.

“What’s wrong?” Sueiry asked.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke while Jasck grunted, “This just got personal.” As Serkis walked by her, he explained, “There are Dark witches here.”

She softly gasped. “I thought you couldn’t sense them?”

He briefly shut his eyes, using the moment to take a cigarette between his fingers and light it. “They’re not praying.” When she only looked confused, he said, “They’ve…come to terms with their death.”

A strange expression formed on her face. She then broke into a small smile. “You’re going to help them.”

“Aye.” He leaned forward. “And you, dear, may or may not have to act as bait.”

Her smile widened. “I can do that.”

The smallest of impressed smiles spread on his lips. “What do you have in mind?”

She took only a moment to think about it. “If they’re executing witches indiscriminately, I could flaunt myself in front of them.”

He raised a brow. “‘Flaunt’?”

“Why, of course. With flair.” When she waved her hand, a small, not-so-conspicuous bit of Dark energy followed it.

He smirked. “Sounds interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, tittering as she turned to face the crowd.

His expression fell when she did. He didn’t like her plan.

“I’ve no idea what you would do but when their attention moves to me—”

A sudden commotion broke out on the green, and he smiled to himself.

Way ahead of you, Serkis told him.

At once, Jasck took Sueiry by her arm and disappeared from the crowd to an underpass beside a building the same moment a beam of Light scorched the spot they had stood seconds before. Sueiry teetered in surprise but caught herself and looked around.

“Where are they?” she asked, immediately trying to assess the situation.

Impressive. He shook his head, eyes to the sky. “They’re hiding, but they will likely put their attention on Serkis.”

“I imagine you don’t want us to help him.”

“He can handle himself.” He made a small smile. “He also has the witches with him.”

“Oh, good!” She took a step closer to him, wary but calm. “We can concentrate on avoiding them, then?”

“Aye, and they’re less likely to attack near humans.” He beckoned his head to the people they stood behind, just close enough to dissuade a saint’s direct attack.

She nodded in understanding but didn’t move from his side.

Shortly after he spoke, a blast of energy knocked her off her feet, and it would have blown her away if he hadn’t put his arm around her waist and disappeared. The energy blew the crowd an entire body’s length back and more, and he sensed her wince when the people cried out in pain and surprise.

This time, she held herself against him, her hand on his chest, when they reappeared on the second-floor balcony of an establishment. She looked around, then moved from his side and focused her attention on the green. Now that they were higher, she could see what was happening.

He could see and experience everything through his brother, putting him in the fray.

Serkis had yet to lift a finger, hands in his pockets as he strolled through the green, searching with his senses for something. He didn’t know what but knew he would recognize it if he sensed or saw it. All the while, his presence hovered near the freed witches who attacked the many members of the Citadel.

He wasn’t surprised to observe that several of these members, while human, could fight back with magic of their own. Some were better than others but most were evenly matched with the human witches.

The inhuman witches, on the other hand, the pumpion and muscheron…

A small smirk spread on his face as they indiscriminately obliterated Citadel members left and right. The saints, however…

Large thralls made of vines, wicker, and Darkness with jack-o-lantern heads fought them. Serkis was not about to dally against them this time.

A sudden attack sliced one thrall in half. He turned to see a High Saint wielding a lance lower to the ground. “Son of Samhain,” it said with disgust, hovering above the ground.

“Ah, I know you.” Serkis tilted his head to the side, looking over his sunglasses. “Can’t remember your name, but, ah, it doesn’t matter. I’ve a question for you—”

He narrowly dodged the lance, turning right, left, then spun around and kicked the weapon up as he flipped back. When the saint attempted to slice him in half, he reappeared atop the weapon on the ground, pinning it down.

He raised a brow. “Rude.” They couldn’t lift it, and he sighed at the increasing look of irritation on their face. “What do you want with our Sueiry?”

“She is not yours, Dark Lord,” the saint scoffed. “Her family gave us claim over her, and she will return to the Light of Quetzalcōātl.”

"The Light of—” Breaking out in soft laughter, Serkis looked away at the absurdity of the statement. “You know, I greatly dislike how your kind sticks their noses in other pantheons and their doings. One day, it will put you to war with someone far worse than us Dark witches. What do you get from this?”

“We do this in the name of Light, to save as many souls as possible.”

“Right, right. Whatever.” Leaning forward, his eyes took on a menacing glow. “I’m feeling generous, Saint Pyotr. Leave, and leave the witches alone today, and call this what it is—a loss on your part.”

The saint raised his head defiantly. “I’d rather die.”

“Done.”

The saint suddenly jolted forward, their head impaled by a sharp root that emerged from the ground. Cream-colored blood would have splattered on his face if a large ivy leaf hadn’t slapped it away.

The headless thrall from before blocked a lance that would have hit him from behind, prompting him to calmly turn and spot another High Saint flying toward him. He wordlessly told the thrall to move aside, and it obeyed.

“This is ludicrous,” he muttered, eyes flashing.

The saint came to a halt midair, then slammed to the ground by an invisible force. Its weapon flew out of its grasp, and he used a root to grab it.

He sighed. “I have secondhand embarrassment. Anyway, let’s try this again.” He placed the lance at the saint’s neck. They snarled, but he ignored their paltry attempt at intimidation. “Hello, Isanvl, how are you doing?”

It struggled against his hold. “Your time will come—!”

“Right. I’m looking for something like this.” He used another root to reveal the unsheathed dagger. “And who, or what, gave you the means to make it?”

When the saint only laughed, his eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Do your worst.”

He grinned wickedly. “Well, thank you.”

He entered their mind, not bothering with being gentle, breaking their mental block and sending tendrils of his presence through their psyche. They screamed, body taut and their eyes rolled in their head.

“What do we have here…” Eyes narrowing deeper, he observed a memory.

The saint was bowing before someone, a god of Light. He didn’t want to pry too deeply, aware the deity would become aware of his prodding if he continued, but he did rip out of the saint’s mind, causing them to gurgle up cream blood.

As they went still in death, he looked in Jasck’s direction. Someone wanted Sueiry, but why? There didn’t seem to be anything special about her from what he could sense…

“My Lord.”

He turned his head to his left. The pumpion and muscheron bowed deeply before him.

“What honor do we have in seeing you in the flesh?” the pumpion asked.

He admired their genuine peace with their situation, though they were, unsurprisingly, hiding their shaken surprise. He didn’t often show himself before his people, let alone in human form.

“Never you mind, my dears.” His voice was soothing, and he sensed their bodies ease. “Return to the hinterlands. It’s not safe here.”

“At once, my Lord.”

Roots quickly pulled the pumpion into the earth, and the muscheron withered and shrunk until she disappeared. Looking forward, he surveyed the damage on the green.

The once immaculately white tents were overturned and ripped to shreds. Trees had been uprooted, and dirt and holes in the ground ruined the once-green land. He hummed, focusing his attention on the humans.

Most of the crowd had dispersed during the fighting, though he doubted they had seen much. Those who had remained watched from within buildings, eyes wide with confusion and whispering among each other. Fortunately for them, it didn’t seem that city infrastructure had been touched by the attack.

Law officers had also arrived, yet they couldn’t do much but keep the people away from the green. The civilians seemed more than willing to obey, but one couldn’t miss how the officers were just as shaken by what had happened. What they witnessed.

Serkis rolled his eyes. Damn saints, meddling in the affairs of others…

He had half a mind to consider restoring the green but ultimately decided against it. He instead approached the remaining five witches who were standing together.

As he neared, they curtsied with their heads lowered. “Thank you, Lord, for saving us,” said a surprisingly young sun witch.

He didn’t acknowledge her words, eyeing them. “Do you wish to be somewhere from here, by any chance?”

An older woman, a green witch, glanced at the others who met her eyes before lowering their gazes. “W-we wouldn’t know where to start, Lord. We are all far from our lands and don’t know where we are.”

“I see.” He took a moment to gently search their memories, then said, “I will return you to your homes.”

They each bowed deeply. “Thank you, Lord,” they chorused.

They disappeared in quick succession. With a soft huff, he couldn’t believe some had originated from as far away as Kanata. That was the entire supercountry away, to the far north. What the hell were the saints doing…?

He briefly shut his eyes. We are becoming far too involved in this mortal shit…

Jasck wordlessly agreed as he appeared at his side with Sueiry.

Serkis looked twice. Jasck had his arm around her waist, though it seemed to be for stabilization. As if he shared the sentiment of wariness, his brother lowered his hand and slipped it in his pocket.

“Well, so much for being useful,” Sueiry sighed, glancing away with a dry expression. “Or bait.”

Serkis shrugged, finally taking a deep inhale from his cigarette. He wanted to ask, sincerely, what she could have done, but he did hear what she said about “flaunting” her power before the Citadel. “Your intentions were enough,” he said softly.

She scrunched her mouth. “Alright…”

“Let’s leave before this place becomes a crime scene.”

Jasck placed his arm around Sueiry just as they disappeared.

Reappearing in an alleyway near the bookstore they met her at, they watched her stiffen in an attempt to stabilize. She gave a small, awkward smile. “I’ll get used to it, I promise.”

“No. You won’t.” With that, Jasck moved from her side. “Do you still want to get supplies?”

She looked between them, as if noticing something for the first time. She then lowered her head. “Ah…That is what I wanted to do, isn’t it.”

“If you want to go home—”

“Oh, no, it’s such a nice day. All the better now that my sisters are safe,” she said, smiling to herself. Before silence could intervene, she looked at them. “Did you learn anything about the dagger?”

“Aye.”

“Good, good.” She nodded, turning to leave the alley.

The fact she chose—because they knew she wanted to do otherwise—not to ask what they knew was impressive. Jasck and Serkis exchanged glances as they steadily followed behind her.

Now another god is involved? Jasck grumbled in their link. Do we really want to continue with this?

We’re in a contract. We have to. Serkis took a deep, smokey exhale. Anyway, these saints are clearly up to something that involves our witches.

Unless that’s just a means to involve us.

And it’s working.

Aye. We’ve no choice but to follow the path they’ve chosen for us…for now.