From out of the a shadow of a tree, Jasck emerged. He wore his sunglasses and hat again, and thank goodness; the sun was shining high in the sky, beaming happily off the very grass at an annoying intensity that he wouldn’t put it past the damned thing to blind a human. And he hated it.

Everywhere he looked, there were creatures of several sizes and sentience flying, conversing, walking, trotting, and laughing. No one seemed to notice his dark form in the shadow. Glancing up, he spotted a hole in the bark where arboreal faeries stared down at him with wide eyes.

The moment his gaze met one, it flew off as fast as its wings could take it, gone in seconds.

Likely to get the very person he was looking for.

Sighing, he fortified himself and took a step into the light.

The end of a white lance met his neck not a moment later.

He lifted a cigarette to his lips and lit it, ignoring the weapon’s owner. “I wasn’t going to do anything,” he said innocently.

“As if I can trust a Dark lord,” the saint spat. “What is your business here?”

“I’m here to see a god.” He took the cigarette from his lips to blow smoke above the short man’s head. “Anything more than that is not your business, divine.”

The saint seemed to think about it. After too long a moment of silence, the lance moved from Jasck’s throat and dissipated into light. “I shall escort you to the central palace, then.”

“Or…or…” Jasck finally looked down at the man, eyes blazing over the rim of his sunglasses, “you could move the fuck out of my way before I turn you into beautiful little black ashes.”

The saint took a step back and began to retort when the presence of another god came to their attention. At once, the saint bowed in their direction while Jasck took a deep, careful breath.

Dressed in white, blue, and silver, the god descended from the sky with velvety white wings that didn’t seem to have a shape, billowing in the wind. He landed some paces from the saint and Jasck, arms open and a beaming smile on a masculine face.

His clothes, formerly a long belted tunic, morphed into a simple open white shirt and black pants. “Jasck! I hoped you would co—!”

“Fuck off and fuck yourself, Iridiel,” Jasck interrupted with a snarl of fire, speaking as himself and Serkis. His eyes turned black with rage, and when he took a step forward, the grass beneath him immediately died. “I told you to keep our witches out of your fucking emotional constipation.”

Iridiel frowned. He motioned the saint away, and the divine disappeared the next second. Placing his hands behind his back, he sighed, “Do you recall me agreeing?” He raised a delicate white brow. “Because I do not.”

Appearing in front of him, Jasck grabbed his shirt and threw him against the tree. “Don’t…even. Are you so fucking insecure that you can’t handle rejection?”

Green eyes narrowed dangerously. “And are you so pathetic that you can’t handle commitment?”

Snarling in his face, Jasck’s hands shook. “You know why.”

“I am not mortal, Jasck!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

It was Iridiel’s turn to growl. He grabbed Jasck’s wrists. “How can it possibly not?”

Ripping his hands away, Jasck looked off. “You don’t understand...”

“Then help me understand!”

“No.” He glared into the gemlike eyes. “We’re here to tell you to fuck off. Leave our witches alone—all of them. Every last one of them. For that matter…” Jasck materialized the dagger and threw it at him. Iridiel didn’t move, though his long white locks fluttered as the weapon impaled the tree.

“So you’ll leave again?”

Jasck bore his fangs. “And we don’t want to remember you for another epoch, at least.” He beckoned to the dagger. “We won’t ask why you’re making weapons that can kill Dark beings. We’ll do that—for you. For what we once had.”

Iridiel’s expression waned as he was taken aback.

“I mean it, Iridiel. Keep the saints away. None of this ‘in the name of Light’ bullshit.”

“What are you talking about…?” Iridiel took the dagger from out of the tree to examine it.

Jasck paused, watching confusion and alarm form on the older god’s face. “You mean you have nothing to do with…”

“I had nothing to do with this.” Iridiel glanced up at him. “Where did you get it?”

“I was attacked by it. Some saints and humans were working together.”

“Where?”

“Dærth.”

White brows furrowed. “Strange things are happening in Dærth. I told my saints to stay away from there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Inferno. Mammon is on the move, for some reason.” Iridiel lowered the dagger. “He wants Dærth since he cannot have Aboveground.”

The cogs in Jasck’s mind worked rapidly. “Someone else may have ordered your saints to create those…” His expression darkened the same moment Iridiel’s did.

“I’m afraid you may be involved with a spat between Eælan and Inferno, Jasck.” Before Jasck could reply, a saint appeared in front of Iridiel, bowing low with their head lowered. The older god appeared peeved as he looked down at it. “Celhorn, my child. Why are your siblings causing mischief on Dærth?”

The saint shifted. “I do not know, my Lord. However, I am aware that some have been in direct contact with elevates as of late.”

While Jasck’s eyes widened, Iridiel emitted a deep sigh with a hand over his forehead. “I worried such,” he muttered.

Jasck stifled a loud groan, opting instead to quietly roll his eyes. Heaven and Hell were fighting…again. “What does this have to do with Sueiry?”

Iridiel waved the saint away, then focused on Jasck after it disappeared. “Sueiry?”

“A young witch under my watch. These saints have gone after her, something about her family giving her up to them.”

“It sounds to me like a soul exchange.” When Jasck balked, Iridiel nodded grimly. “Eælan did this several epochs ago. I do not believe you had left Hallowed Ground yet; it was sometime shortly after the Fall.”

Jasck slowly nodded, recalling the time many millions of years ago when he heard of Lucifer’s fall from his reigion of Eælan.

“A soul exchange; when Eælan and Inferno go to war, they first collect as many souls from the Grounds as possible. Those who are damned to Inferno are then turned into demons, and those who are blessed to Eælan are turned into 2nd Sphere elevates.

Somehow, Jasck’s eyes grew wider. “Who does this transforming?”

“Any number of gods for each pantheon or denomination.” Iridiel raised his hands and shook his head. “I’ve never done it. To me, it sounds foul either way, twisting someone’s soul like that.”

With a slight grimace, Jasck softly agreed. “I imagine this means powerful souls are being transformed against their will, so long as they’ve died and are destined for either realm?”

“Unfortunately, yes. That would mean your Sueiry is a powerful soul and the elevates want her before Inferno takes notice.”

A gradual frown formed on Jasck’s face.

“You never noticed?”

He waved a hand dismissively before looking away. “Souls aren’t my forte; my witches don’t have them…” He finally took a deep inhale of his cigarette.

Iridiel looked back at the dagger. “Typically, then, your witches wouldn’t be targeted. This young witch wouldn’t happen to be…human?”

Jasck slowly, deeply exhaled a cloud of smoke, keeping his gaze elsewhere. “…Aye.”

The surprise oozed from Iridiel, irritating him more than he wanted to admit. “Why, Jasck—”

“Don’t. I’ve heard enough of it already.” He took the cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke as he asked, “What can I do to keep both realms’ hands off her?”

He felt Iridiel’s eyes watching him closely.

“Iridiel, I fucking swear—” He stopped when the older god chuckled, then broke into soft laughter. He glared at him, growling, “What’s so fucking funny?”

A gentle smile adorned Iridiel’s face, his deep green eyes twinkling with mirth. “Ah, nothing, dear Jasck…” Lowering the weapon, he walked closer.

Jasck let him approach, wary but curious.

Once close enough, nearly within arm range, Iridiel’s smile became a touch mischievous. “I always saw you as…mine,” he said quietly. He lowered his gaze. “Even after all this time apart. But…I know. I know I should let you go, since you cannot reciprocate my…affections.”

Jasck didn’t reply, continuing to watch the older man.

“I wish you happiness, Jasck.” Iridiel met his eyes. Jasck saw pain yet peaceful acceptance in their depths. Iridiel’s smile widened. “After all, it’s better to love once…truly love…than never have loved at all.”

Lips parting as if to say something, Jasck tightened his grasp on his cigarette.

“As for your witch…If you truly care for this mortal and wish her no harm, lay a claim on her soul.”

Jasck’s eye twitched. “I will do no such thing. That’s fucking dangerous.”

“Indeed…but if you want her to remain a soul at peace after she dies and not be taken as fodder for war…”

Jasck dreaded the next words, shutting his eyes.

“…turn her.”

A loud, menacing growl grew in his chest. When he opened his eyes, they burned brightly behind his sunglasses. “I fucking hate you,” he whispered. “All of you.”

Iridiel smiled mischievously, somewhat mockingly. He motioned to the dagger. “I’ll keep this.” He then turned to leave. “Goodbye, Second Son of Samhain…”

Jasck hated the feelings that welled within him as he watched the older god return to his inhuman form. This time, Iridiel bore his large blue halo and his wings were like those of an elevate’s, if not more cloth-like in appearance. Slanted, striking green eyes turned to him one last time.

“When we meet again, we will be enemies.” Not a care left in his mannerisms, Iridiel took to the sky and shortly disappeared in a flash of light.

Jasck stared after him, expressionless but numb. After a few seconds, he leveled his gaze and returned to the tree he had come from. Before returning to the shadows, he placed a hand on the tree bark.

This was a trap, he thought.

Serkis, while still unconscious, wordlessly agreed with him. And we fell for it.

*    *    *

Serkis was still sleeping when Jasck returned to Sueiry’s house. He sensed Sueiry was still sleeping, and Izzy promptly fell asleep after he arrived outside on the porch. Mind painfully empty, he moved to and sat in the rocking chair, exhaling hard from his nose. A moment after staring aimlessly, he leaned forward and laced his fingers together.

He took a moment to revise what had happened in such a short amount of time now that he fully understood the situation.

Sueiry’s misstep in her prayer brought eyes to her, namely from an elevate of some kind, but not so much because she was a witch but because she is a powerful soul. If something wasn’t done to protect her, she would be sought out by both Eælan and Inferno. His upper lip curled at the thought.

Truthfully, he would protect her even if he hadn’t met her in the flesh…

He softly exhaled and leaned back in the chair with a wry smile. Very well.

He let his eyes close.

Very well…

*    *    *

“Jasck?”

His eyes snapped open, head turning into the direction of the front door. “Sueiry.”

Wearing a different, embroidered black dress and matching corset, the young witch looked tired and slightly shaken. “Hello…” Her voice was meek, withdrawn.

He mentally swore at his eldest brother, well aware he could hear it. “Still not feeling well?”

She shook her head, grasping her arms and taking a few steps forward. She looked toward the horizon. It was early morning, too early to see the sun, but blue was entering the sky. “Izjaszion told me everything…”

He sighed and leveled his gaze forward. “Everything,” he muttered with a disparaging scoff.

“…Everything.”

His eyes narrowed. “What did he say….?”

She softly exhaled but didn’t respond.

With a groan, he covered his face. “I’m going to kill him.”

Her soft, sad titter made him glance at her behind his hands. “Please don’t…He’s nice.”

He made a low growl but didn’t respond. Unfortunately, he didn’t sense his youngest sibling inside the house, nor was he anywhere else. He muttered under his breath, “I know you can hear me, Izjaszion, and I will burn all your hair off when I see you again…”

A soft, ghostly chuckle in the wind was the response; it was so soft he doubted Sueiry heard anything.

He scoffed, pulling a cigarette from thin air to his lips. “Little fucker…”

“He…also told me why you smoke…”

He froze. Anger boiled inside him, and he didn’t light the cigarette. “Why he would tell you that?” he softly growled between his teeth.

There was remorse in her voice when she softly sighed, “I don’t know why, either…”

“You didn’t need to know.”

“I told him that.” He heard a slight shift of material. “He…thought otherwise.”

He swallowed. “Fine. Whatever. You know.” He finally lit his cigarette with a thought and leaned back in the chair. He couldn’t look at her. “I know why the forces of Light are so hellbent on taking you. Or rather, your soul.”

He sensed her surprise…and her sadness.

He ignored the latter. “Your soul is powerful. Resilliant. It might be why Hobboilen…Well, I doubt that…In any case, Eælan wants it, to pervert it into a divine for an upcoming war.”

“War?"

“Aye. ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ are fighting again, and they want strong soldiers—divines like saints and elevates…devils…and other beings. Gods can change the outward appearance of a soul, and they want to turn you into one of their little minions.”

“I see…” Her voice slightly quavered. “I apologize.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“This is all because of—”

He went stiff, understanding in an instant. “Stop. Just…stop.” His eyes took on a bright glow as he stared toward the blue sky. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you didn’t know. Don’t make this harder than it is. Please.”

She didn’t say anything, though guilt, remorse, and sadness oozed from her very pores.

She wasn’t pitying him, but he hated what he did sense nonetheless. Taking a deep inhale of smoke, he let his eyes close. “There is much I need to teach you; your soul will only be safe after I leave with some divine aid.”

“Thank you.”

He brushed it off. “I protect my own. First, you need a familiar. No human witch should go without one. It is their lifeline to the Other Sides.”

She brightened immediately, though some of the remorse lingered.

“Are you aware with the workings of how to procure one? What a familiar is?”

“A familiar is a witch’s aid, guide, and soul companion. They can take the form of any animal and may be beings from Inferno and other specific worlds.”

“Aye, and do you know the names of those worlds?”

She pursed her lips, then softly excused herself, disappearing into the house.

The moment she was far enough away, he growled, “Izjaszion, get your ass over here. NOW.”

With a sigh, Izzy appeared on the grass in much of the same position he was in last time. “Listen—”

Standing before him in seconds, eyes a blazing orange-yellow fire, Jasck reached for his neck but restrained himself. “YOU listen,” he hissed with a layered voice. “She doesn’t need to know all of our damned personal history. Take your words back.”

“Will not.” Also speaking with dual voices, Izjaszion’s upper lip curled, revealing a sharp fang. “Don’t you get it? This was coming—”

Grabbing his shirt lapels, Jasck snarled, “No, it was not! Why the fuck are you so insistent on getting us together with her?!”

His expression slightly easing, Izjaszion’s grey eyes looked deep into his, into his being. And Jasck hated it. He was too vulnerable as he was now, too testy.

“Because you’re not the only one affected by big brother’s loneliness,” Izjaszion said softly, carefully.

Jasck stopped breathing.

“We see it, what Boogellooen’s epochs of pain and loneliness and self-deprecating have done to him, how he keeps making the same mistake every time regardless of it all. And we’ve seen what that has done to you.” Izjaszion looked away. “But you don’t seem to notice what it’s done to Haloonkaloon, Kakoolavoon, Corrowallo, Astylretyl…to all of us.”

Lowering his hands, letting him go, Jasck slowly shook his head. “We…don’t understand…”

“And none of us are angry at you for that.” Izjaszion met his eyes, cracking a small, sad smile. “How long did Boogellooen go without his first two mates before any of us were born after you?”

A shudder ran through Jasck as he recalled. He hated his involuntary swallow, hated how his body wouldn’t stop twitching.

Before their first younger sister, Haloonkaloon, was born, Boogellooen lived over four million years in-between his mates—just the two, then, out of what would become five. And during that time…

“We don’t want to be like that,” Jasck admitted, his voice barely a whisper. He could no longer hold his younger brother’s gaze, sinking to the ground with his arms around his shaking body. “We’re scared…So scared.”

Izjaszion quickly kneeled beside him and wrapped his arms around him. “We don’t want to be like that, either. We’re all scared.” He heard the quiver in his brother’s voice when he whispered, ”So fucking scared.”

He shook his head, unable to believe he knew what was coming next.

“But sometimes…we wonder.” Izjaszion was still whispering. “We know you did, too. So you took a chance—”

“And look at where that fucking got us,” Jasck spat with pure venom in his voice. “We still don’t know where they are. Our own children!”

He shut his eyes at last when Izjaszion softly rumbled, holding him closer. “Yeah…but…if you could go back, knowing what you know now…would you do it again? As a wiser entity?”

Lips tightening, shoulders falling, Jasck opened his mouth. “N—”

“If you could?"

To his surprise, his voice shook as he relented too easily. “Yes.”

He would…if he could. But no one had that much control over Time, not even the Primordials.

He recalled what Iridiel said, that it was better to love once than have never loved at all. If that was the case, he had yet to know what it was like to love—truly love. He had a mere taste of it in the form of lust.

And it haunted him for an epoch.

“I don’t love her,” he whispered.

“…yet,” Izjaszion hummed. “With her blessing, would you pursue her?”

He didn’t respond—not immediately.

She was watching them from the porch.

“Yes,” he finally muttered, nodding with pained resignation. “I would….if she wanted to…”

“Will you ask her?”

He shook his head, leaning into Izjaszion’s chest. The arms around him tightened.

“Why?”

“I doubt she’s that interested in me. We just met three days ago…”

“People, inhumans and humans alike, have done weirder things. It’s just courting, brother,” Izzy chuckled softly, “nothing drastic. After all, how often is a god interested in a mortal?”

Jasck gave a weary groan. “Don’t say it like that…”

Another chuckle. “Alright, bro.” Long fingers ran through his hair. “Start off slow, then. Friends. Let things take its course. Just be honest with yourself, and with her.”

He didn’t immediately respond, taking a second to breathe again. It was such a strange thing, he idly wondered, breathing and other mortal functions. Such a precious thing that meant the difference between life or death…

His lips tightened as negative thoughts fought to enter his mind.

“It’s alright,” Izzy soothed, continuing to comb his fingers through Jasck’s hair. “It’ll take a while to overcome this. Don’t rush it, yeah?”

“Right,” Jasck sighed, body rising and falling heavily. After a moment, he let his eyes close. “Thank you.”

He heard the grin form on his brother’s face. “What are siblings for if not to be annoying and supportive?”

He grunted, then moved back to smack Izzy upside his head.

White hair tumbled violently into the younger god’s face. “Oi! What’d I do now?!”

“That’s for telling her my business without my permission, asshole.”

Izzy grinned, though it was somewhat—only somewhat—apologetic.

He leaned forward, reaching behind Izzy’s head to bring and press their foreheads together. Soft, contented rumbling grew in their chests, and Jasck let his eyes close.