Author's Preface
Evil had abandoned any hope of getting along with her blue-haired peer. Minutes passed like hours, suffocating Evil, who just wanted to chat away the boredom.
Elias walked as if she wasn't even there. At times, he rushed his steps, letting Evil follow like a dog on a leash. He knew the way, so she couldn't walk in front like she would when upset. She had to drag her feet behind him, watch his ponytail sway left and right, and hold herself back from pulling on it and knocking some empathy into him.
"How much longer?" She asked.
"Not much."
Evil bit her tongue. How come he always spoke to Kian, but not to her? What did that jerk have that she lacked? Always whispering to each other like two schoolgirls.
"What does 'not much' mean?"
"It means 'not a lot’."
"I'm seriously going to strangle you."
Crows circled overhead, heralding a turbulent journey. They screamed warnings, trying to convince passersby to turn back and not test the priestesses' patience.
Evil could see they were getting closer. All around were the remains of the ancient statues that had surrounded Nox's temple. They were blown to bits by angels, the remaining chunks buried in the ground miles away. A crow with two sets of eyes perched atop a stone hand that seemed to be rising from the ground like a dead man. It blinked with each eye separately and screamed something that sounded strikingly like "danger."
"Think that could be a bad omen?"
"Maybe."
"What does your foresight say?"
"That we have a job to do."
The temple was heavily guarded by Amatus- a demonic creature that looked like a Lynx, only about four meters tall. It slept in its chambers deep inside the building, yet its ears moved like antennae ready to hear the foreign footsteps of invaders.
"What's the plan?"
"We have a civil conversation with them."
"The plan is to ask them nicely? They'd never give it to us."
It didn't matter that the sceptre used to be present at every big Feroxian ceremony. Ever since Nox's disappearance, the women guarded it with their lives. They refused to recognize the authority of the council, and rumor had it, they couldn't stand the new chosen leader- much less his minions. Evil knew they wouldn't be pleased to have the corrupt oracle and the infamous Reaper- commonly referred to as "Valmort's bitch" in hushed whispers- show up on their doorstep and demand it.
"It's the right way to approach the situation."
"Let's just burst in and take it!" Evil threw her arms up in frustration. "We don't have all day. I can take them in a fight."
"You can't take Amatus."
"It's just an animal, Elias-"
"Four meters of claws and sharp fangs. It'll tear you to pieces."
"Oh yeah, that's what your prophetic dreams showed you?"
Elias ignored her remark and marched towards the entrance. Evil had to follow wordlessly, huffing and puffing behind him.
The sky was darker in that part of Ferox. Shades of blue and deep purple were present at every time of day. Day was barely distinguishable from night. Only the stars and the torches lining the path to the gate revealed the temple's outline. It was a massive structure—one of the largest and oldest in the demonic realm. It stood high in the mountain's foothills, where fiery birds flew, casting orange light on the ancient marble. Showers of sparks fell with every beat of their wings. It reminded Evil of Kian.
They climbed the endless stone steps. To take her mind off the pain in her calves, Evil gazed at the sprawling garden—filled with plants she had never seen before and twisted trees with phosphorescent leaves, their bark pulsing as if breathing.
The temple resembled a Gothic structure—all sharp edges and intricate details. Enormous stained-glass windows depicted the lost goddess, flooding the interior with shades of blue.
Elias pulled the rope next to the gate. The sound of bells echoed all around. Footsteps hurriedly came to the entrance. A small, stocky woman with hair down to her bosom opened the door barely a millimeter. A blue eye peeked at them, moving with uncanny swiftness from one to the other. Elias waited patiently to be surveyed. Evil tapped her foot, wondering if it was allowed to smoke inside.
“Who are you?”
“Elias Horatius and Evilyn Halcyon. We were sent by Lucian Valmort.”
“Valmort?” Her almost timid voice deepened with gravity. “For what purpose?”
“The bloodmoon sceptre.”
“You can’t have it.” She hurried to close the door, but Evil grabbed onto it.
“Wait a second. Hear us out first.”
“Another member is to be sworn into the council. We need the bloodmoon sceptre if we are to adhere to tradition,” Elias told her.
“Tradition? What do you know about tradition? The existence of a council is already blasphemy.”
“Authority is needed while Nox is gone.”
“Her Highness wouldn't have wanted this. It’s profanity. Your council is soiled by sin.”
“I, too, work in the name of Nox. My line dates back to the first oracles.”
“You sold yourself to Valmort.” The woman spit with hatred in her voice. “Leave. Don’t make me say it twice.”
The door closed in their face. Both stared at the gate, dumbfounded, for a whole minute before Evil turned and crossed her arms angrily.
“Okay, genius. Now what?”
“We go back.” He said, already descending. Evil followed suit, shouting, “Wait!”
“We can’t go back! I need that sceptre; I can’t be sworn into the council without it!”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“Yes, there is! We go in there and take it forcefully!”
“We don’t stand a chance.”
“You don't. I do.”
“Fine, then. If you want to die, go ahead.”
Evil stopped as if slapped. “What did you say?”
“Go die if you want. I won’t partake in it.”
Evil watched his figure disappear in the fog. She clenched her fist and rushed back up the steps, banging on the door until her skin split.
“Open up! I just want to talk!”
The same woman as before opened the door, this time with an even deeper frown engraved between her eyebrows. “Leave!” She screamed.
“I just want to talk, alright? I won’t try to steal the sceptre.”
“As if I’d believe you.”
“You have no choice,” Evil said, as the veins on her cheeks blackened. She poked the crease between the priestess’s eyes, and her lids closed on command. Evil caught her before she fell to the ground and hid her sleeping body in the voluminous bushes adorning the inside garden.
While walking past the rest of the priestesses, Evil counted the bodies entering her power field. Few women were outside. Some gardened while humming hymns; others laughed as they departed from the outside pavilion with scrolls and feathers in hand. All of them were unaware that Evil had entered their facility. What they saw was a small and slight priestess dressed in navy robes, with wavy hair falling down her back and kind blue eyes smiling at the rest.
“Are the strangers gone, Arabella?”
“Certainly, Sister. Don’t worry,” Evil said, imitating the timid tone of the sleeping woman.
She made her way over the colored pebbles, with a straight posture and calculated steps. The dark veins spread down her cheek from the effort of keeping up the illusion over such a wide area. She had infiltrated the mind of every priestess like a disease and infected them with false thoughts. It was as if she played all the roles in a play- running around pretending to be ten characters a the same time. She had to be careful and maintain the illusion of the robe’s details, the hair swaying back and forth, the glint in the woman’s dark blue eyes. If she let a mistake slip, they would catch her.
Once past the garden, Evil slipped inside the temple. She tried to move forward without any of the women noticing anything amiss. Keeping her head down, she quickened her pace, only to accidentally bump into someone with her elbow.
“Forgive me!” Evil said quickly, in her most apologetic tone.
“It’s no trouble, Arabella.”
Evil nodded politely and moved to resume her search. However, the woman stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Arabella, are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine, Sister.” Evil smiled at her, subtly wiping the sweat from her brow. There were more of them inside the temple than outside; she was already feeling dizzy from trying to maintain the facade in so many people's minds.
The woman before her—tall and imposing, with stunning knee-length black hair—frowned, unconvinced. Her robe differed from the others; she wore a cape over it, fastened with a pin bearing Nox’s symbol and hemmed with silver thread.
Looking more closely now, Evil noticed strands of gray in her hair. The skin on her face, she observed, was more lined and aged than that of the other women. She must be one of the senior priestesses, then.
Wonderful. Just Evil’s luck.
“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy. My blood sugar must be low,” Evil laughed. “I should go get something sweet to eat.”
“Maria made those orange tarts you like,” the woman said with a smile.
“Perfect! I’ll be off, then,” Evil said, turning away.
“Don’t even think about taking a step.”
Before she could gather her wits, the chatter died down abruptly. All the priestesses surrounded Evil. They formed a circle around her and the gray-haired woman, leaving no gap through which she could escape.
Evil turned slowly, wearing the most innocent expression she could muster.
“Sister, what is this?”
“Arabella hates orange tart.”
Damn it.
“Now show yourself, intruder.”
Evil dropped the boulder she had been carrying on her back, and the illusion fell away from her like a cloak. The old priestess’s expression didn’t shift—though it grew a shade more sour.
“The Reaper. What an honor.”
“The honor is mine,” Evil murmured sarcastically. “You have a magnificent way of welcoming guests into your home.”
“Where is Arabella?”
“Sleeping in the bushes. She’s unharmed.”
They all stared at her in disbelief.
“Do you take me for a psychopath?”
Silence.
“I do not quarrel with her. I came for the scepter.”
“The scepter is not yours to take.”
“I’m not taking it. I’m borrowing it. As I’ve already explained, I need it for a Council ceremony.”
“We do not recognize the Council’s authority.”
“You don’t really have a choice, do you? The Council is in power now. Nox is gone.”
“We worship only Nox. We fared perfectly well without the policies of the so-called Council.”
“I am not leaving here without it.”
She couldn’t let Lucian down. She couldn’t fail right at the start of her journey. Evil had to prove she deserved her seat on the Council—prove she was worth Lucian bending the rules for her, despite the protests of members who had occupied those chairs for centuries before she was even born.
Evil didn't know what she was. To them, she was merely an ignorant child. To the rest of the Ferox, she was a cold-blooded killer—the sort of person you wouldn't live to tell the tale about if you ever crossed her path. To Fey, she was a playmate and a toy; to Kian, a failure who had no business being on their team; and to Elias, an expendable pawn. She was Evil. She was Evilyn. She was Bozo. She had been Evie. She was The Reaper.
She was to be a member of the council next.
“Are you going to kill us all?”
“If I have to. I’d rather not stain my hands with sacred blood, but you’re forcing my hand.”
“Amatus, come forth!”
A growl echoed throughout the vastness of the room. It was deep and menacing, like that of an ancient predator. The hair on Evil’s nape stood on end.
A trapdoor in the floor was pushed open. From it jumped the enormous feline.
It bared its fangs, angry to have been woken from its slumber. Its nose wrinkled as it smelled the air for foreign scents. Its beady eyes stopped on Evil, and her body went rigid, like an antelope about to be jumped by the lion.
She took a few cautionary steps back. Amatus followed lazily. It knew it could tear anything apart with little to no effort. Its long, forked tongue licked its lips impatiently, hungrily. It must’ve been some time since it had a proper meal.
Every muscle in her body tensed, buzzing with adrenaline. Evil hadn’t found herself in many situations that required her to use her powers on animals. Her abilities on animals were limited. Their brains didn’t work the way human brains did.
Pain inflection worked just fine, but Evil didn’t torture animals for fun. She used an auditory illusion on a wolf once to will it away and avoid harming it. But Feroxian animals were harder to trick.
The beast was an ancient creature- and not any creature. It was Nox’s beloved pet, taken in by the priestesses after her disappearance. The animal fell into a deep depression after the goddess went away and spent its days sleeping and tearing apart intruders who dared to steal from its home.
Evil tried to tap into its consciousness and force it to stop moving. Amatus only flapped its tail in annoyance and kept trotting forward.
Just as if the old priestess read her mind, she laughed and crossed her arms. “Your filthy tricks won’t work on him. Attack!”
The beast crossed half the room in a single bound. It landed softly on its freshly licked paws and unsheathed its claws menacingly, preparing to sink them into the tender demon flesh.
Evil had nowhere to run. The priestesses stood in a circle around her, holding hands as if in some bizarre ritual. Even if she could break through their ranks, the beast was too fast—even for her reflexes. Her powers didn't work on it; she had to rely on her physical skills. She drew a knife from her belt and assumed a fighting stance, ready to defend herself at any cost.
The beast was mere inches from her face. She could feel its hot, acrid breath against her skin. Drool dripped from its maw, splashing onto Evil’s leather boots.
“Wanna eat me? Go ahead!”
The beast sniffed her. It tilted its head to the side, looking confused. It took a few more sniffs—then a few more—leaving Evil to wonder if she smelled so bad that even an ancient, man-eating creature didn't want her. But it seemed she wasn't the only one puzzled; the women were exchanging bewildered glances. That told Evil the beast’s behavior was unusual. Whispers drifted from the background—murmurs she couldn't quite make out, too focused as she was on the beast’s wet nose against her face.
After a long bout of sniffing, it took a step back. Just when Evil thought it had finally decided to pounce and tear her apart, it… lay down. The priestesses could hardly believe it; the entire hall erupted in murmurs of indignation and confusion.
Amatus sat quietly on the ground, gazing up at Evil with wide eyes.
Mimicking its earlier gesture, Evil tilted her head to the side. In a fit of madness, she brought her hand close to his wet nose. The move could have cost her a hand—and Evil was only half-conscious of it—but curiosity got the better of her. Amatus sniffed her hand again, and Evil felt a wet sensation before she realized it was licking her.
Evil’s jaw dropped, freezing at the sight. The priestesses gasped, clasping their hands together or covering their mouths in shock. The head priestess with the white hair narrowed her eyes with interest. She raised a hand, signaling the other women to quiet down.
“Amatus. Attack!”
But nothing happened this time either. His tongue stilled on Evil’s hand for a second, and his tail whipped back and forth aggressively as if he was annoyed at the interruption. He resumed cleaning Evil’s hand, who tested her luck and began patting his nose. Amatus made a low, rumbling noise that sounded like a purr.
The women couldn’t believe their eyes. The head priestess’s mouth hung open as if ready to ask a question nobody had the answer to. She looked to the right, where a bunch of old armour was displayed, and yanked an old sword from the mannequin's grip. Evil's body acted on instinct, readying itself to dodge.
But it wasn’t necessary.
The beast positioned itself in front of Evil. Its relaxed expression melted into the earlier irritation- only worse. It snarled at them, baring its fangs.
Nobody knew why the beast decided to protect a stranger by turning on its owner. It was willing to bite the hand that fed it at the cost of protecting the prey. A heavy silence settled over the bunch.
Then, one by one, the priestesses started to kneel. They exchanged cryptic glances and nodded in an understanding Evil lacked. They lowered themselves to the ground, hands clasped in prayer, looking up at Evil with newly found interest.
Evil didn’t know how to proceed. She was left in place, frozen, behind the snarling Amatus. The women parted their lips, and in tandem they began to sing. It was high-pitched and almost painful to listen to, like a prolonged cry with a haunting note underneath it. Goosebumps rose on Evil’s arms.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
They didn’t answer, but kept singing, swaying from left to right like flowers blown by the wind. Their singing was both elevating and eerie. It evoked a lightness Evil had seldom felt inside. The tips of her fingers tingled with electricity.
But among the dazzling radiance inside was a sorrow hard to describe. She felt her throat blocked with an anguish about to spill through tears of grief, for something or someone unknown to her.
“Stop singing,” she tried again. “What is going on?”
The priestesses didn’t listen, too deep in their trance. The head priestess opened her eyes, which sparked with a sort of devotion. She rose to her feet and disappeared for a minute, coming back with the sceptre in her hands. It was just as the stories described it- glorious and extravagant, decorated from top to bottom in gems. She placed it in Evil’s hands.
“I can take it?”
The priestess nodded in response and lowered herself into what looked like a bow.
Evil touched the grand ruby shyly, scared of breaking it. It buzzed with ancient power.
She gripped it tighter and backed up towards the door. The singing continued, undisturbed by her departure. Evil got the creeps from looking at the scene as a whole- with the wailing priestesses caught in a ritualistic lullaby and the old woman standing, staring at her while clutching the pin on her chest.
Amatus tilted his head as she left. Evil almost felt bad for not saying goodbye to the ancient beast after everything it did for her.
Elias was waiting for her at the foot of the mountain. Evil descended the steps, dazed, swinging that scepter back and forth. Her legs felt weak, her arms drained of strength. Her head ached. All the scenes kept spinning endlessly in her mind.
Elias was just stubbing out his cigarette. He looked at her with a sort of disregard, yet fascinated by the absence of bite marks or the fact that she still had all four limbs.
“You’re alive.”
Evil blinked. Her look of disgust was the last thing Elias saw before her palm connected with his cheek. The force of the slap jerked his head to the side. Evil smiled at the sight of the handprint slowly forming on his face.
Elias turned slowly toward her.
He said nothing. He simply brushed a lock of hair aside and touched the tender skin with his fingertips.
“That’s for leaving me alone.”
Evil thrust the scepter into his hands, making sure to shove him hard enough to send him stumbling back a few paces.
“And that’s for not trusting me.”