“No force in this universe can withstand the onslaught of four arch-angyls.”

  “Then it would please me to be the first.”

  The final words between the arch-angyl Michael and the dark God Tenebrous.

  Avella stirred as she slowly regained consciousness. Memories of what happened quickly roused her to full consciousness, and grogginess turned to panic. She was standing and bound in a cocoon of crystalline threads or webbing. It was transparent, and she could see her immobilized body, eerily still.

  She was enswathed in this substance up to her shoulders. There was something supremely unnatural about the material. It felt . . . numbing, and not just physically. It was exhausting her will and spirit, keeping it complacent and powerless. This was undoubtedly how the daemons were keeping their prisoners subdued. Indeed, if she were cocooned entirely, she would be done for.

  On top of that, she felt . . . off. Like her Shard and her soul felt . . . loose. As if it wasn’t fully rooted in her body anymore. It was an uncanny feeling. She took some deep breaths to calm herself. This was part of the plan.

  Nevertheless, the potential terror waiting for her in the interim was overwhelming. She just hoped Etheros would be able to play his part. She looked around the room. It was pretty small and mostly featureless. The walls were made of solid white stone bricks, and strange webbing littered the ceiling and floor. There was a large window to her right, but a thick black curtain blocked the view, and she could not see out of it. A single stone door led out of the room. Her arms might be bound, but her mouth and throat were unimpeded.

  Should she try casting a spell? It might be a good idea in case things were looking fatal. She began to chant, only for a burning pain to erupt atop her throat, killing the spell. She groaned from the shock and glanced down.

  A thinner webbing covered her throat, and it beheld a rune of unknown origin, probably daemonic or possibly even a new trick of Morgash. It glowed white hot but slowly faded away. So much for spells. These heathens knew what they were doing. They have gotten the hunt for Godshards down to a science. That should make the world tremble.

  The stone door shifted open with a rumble. Two giant spiders crept in, skittering across the ceiling and examining the webbing. They beheld strange blue and white runes on their abdomens. Their multi-faceted eyes glowed black, and their demeanor was eerie and lifeless. These were drones, countless monsters bred from Morgash. Following the insidious vanguard was the same two-headed daemon who captured her, Velo-Obitus. He was barely able to squeeze into the room. Two robed men trailed behind him. One of them also looked familiar to her. It was the same rogue Godshard she’d fought on the river. The other man was completely new. He wore a Padre’s garb, robes of white complete with headdresses. Yet another sacerdozio member who had betrayed everything she stood for.

  “Greetings!” The voice of the man she’d never met before was sickly sweet and uncomfortably kind. “I bid thee welcome, Sister.”

  Avella scowled. “I have nothing to say to you. You’re just another traitor!”

  The man seemed unconcerned with her vitriol. “Permit me to introduce ourselves. We are the Followers of Abel. He who is the Bringer of Light and the Avenger of Primus. I am the one they call the Voice of Abel.” The man bowed. “I am the one who speaks on his behalf, to friend, to foe, and all in between. His words are my words. I preach his truths and spread his message.” He pointed at the other rogue, who was glaring at Avella with thinly veiled contempt. “And you have already met the one we call Abel’s Shade, for he is Abel’s shadow—his secrecy, his wits, and his guile. He told me you fought quite fiercely with him on the river.”

  Avella glowered. “Get me out of this webbing, and I’ll give you a proper demonstration.” The Shade’s hands curled into fists.

  The Voice laughed heartily. “Regrettably, we cannot do that. But do not despair, for that’s exactly the tenacity we need for our cause. It is more proof that you are everything Velo-Obitus here said you were. Such fury, such hatred, such desire for justice. Etheros seems to believe the Shade here is a Shard of Tenebrous. He’s wrong. His is a Shard of Omnitus that has seen the light. You and I, on the other hand . . .”

  Avella was getting weary of his prattle. “What are you going on about?”

  The Voice walked up to her. “Don’t you see? We are giving you an opportunity here. We always look after our own when we can. For you are one of us—I am a Shard of Tenebrous, and so are you.”

  A heavy silence hung over the room.

  “Liar!” Avella proclaimed.

  The Voice rolled his eyes. “You know that Godshards cannot lie to each other in such a manner.”

  “It’s not impossible, and you seem slimy enough.”

  The Voice grew angry at her stubbornness, his affable demeanor melting away momentarily, his glowing eyes flaring. “Will you stop spouting dogma for two seconds!” He took a deep breath as his facade returned. “Think about it; you have an affinity for fire spells, and you like working in the dark. We already discussed the strengths of your character.”

  “None of those things make me a Shard of Tenebrous.”

  “Do you know why the daemons went after you and let Etheros go? It wasn’t because you distracted him.”

  “Understand this, child,” said the wolf head Velo. “A daemon’s Soulsight is greater than that of a Shard like yourself. Just like the Gods, we can read more, glean more, and spot differences in essence that a Godshard simply cannot.”

  The boar head, Obitus, nodded and said, “We have fought in many wars. The Nephilim Wars before the Gods came, both wars in the Heavens, the great incursions into the Cradlelands and the East. We have borne witness to all the Gods, angyls, monsters, and beings of countless worlds, whose fragmented essence drips into the Underworld from the Soul River. We can spot such paltry differences between shards. Of the two Brother-Gods, we can tell who is who.”

  Avella turned back to the Voice. “You expect me to believe the word of a daemon? Besides their loathsomeness and evil, daemons are known to be liars, even worse than you!”

  “Indeed,” chuckled the Voice, “but we have one final way to prove it.” He raised an arm, and two more spiders crept in. They carried a massive sword on their backs.

  It was large, so big that only something like a true Nephilim could wield it. It was sleek, curved, and obsidian in hue. Inlaid on it were countless runes and markings in the Old Tongue. The sword radiated death, and the weight of the thing caused the spiders carrying it to groan.

  Avella’s eyes widened. “I-is that the Angylbane?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I’m pleased you recognize it. Yes, it is indeed the Angylbane. The sword of Tenebrous, the same weapon he wielded in the second war in the Heavens. A weapon that taught angyls fear, the blade that has tasted the blood of an archangyl. Forged by the war god, Marius—his last great work before he was forced to take off his armor by that bitch Terra.”

  Avella turned to the Voice. “How is this possible? It has been lost since the Godfall. Countless expeditions searched over the centuries.”

  “Abel, in his wisdom and power, managed to find it. Before he was Sommo Sacerdote, before Lazarus exiled him, curse his name.”

  “He claimed he never found it!”

  “He lied. Think about it; how else did he learn he was a Shard of Tenebrous in the first place?” Avella was silent. It made sense, and it disturbed her that it did. “It has been a crucial bargaining chip in these affairs of late. Not just for Abel, but for all of us! Those blessed with our Lord of Darkness’s shard. The blade is said to come to life, wreathed in flames of pure blackness, whenever it’s in His hands. We cannot wield it . . . for now. But a touch will suffice.”

  The Voice gestured to the Shade, who walked over from the wall he was leaning on and placed his hand on the sword’s hilt. Nothing happened. “As I said, the Shade has a shard of Omnitus.”

  The Voice placed his hand on the handle. It instantly glowed to life, the runes radiating red and black flames swirling around the blade. The spiders holding it hissed from the flames lashing their backs, their legs shaking profusely. He let go, and as quick as the fire came, it left. He looked at Avella and smirked.

  Avella was astonished. He spoke the truth. Etheros was right. There are other Teneb-Shards out there. This was the direst implication with massive repercussions. How many more Teneb-Shards were out there? What sort of vileness were they concocting? Avella had no time to think as the spiders freed one of her hands and the others brought the sword to it. It mattered not that there may be more Teneb-Shards out there. She knew she was a shard of Omnitus, a God of Goodness and Virtue.

  The sword glowed to life as her hand touched the hilt.

  Avella gasped. The assault proved too much, and the two spiders carrying the weapon collapsed to the ground, burned out. The sword fell to the floor with a clang, signaling the weight of the revelation. Tears formed in her eyes.

  “No.”

  The Voice looked upon her with a soft smile. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You see now I speak the truth. I implore you to let me speak my piece before you act too hasty.” Avella shakily nodded. The Voice turned to the daemon. “Leave us.” Velo-Obitus obliged and left the room. “Your sacerdozio is antiquated and dogmatic. The Adamites are little better, and the Seerhood of the north only desires petulant power. There is a new order on the rise. Abel desires peace and light, and justice. We are working with him to achieve this.”

  “Abel is dead. Lazarus killed him long ago.”

  “Yet another lie. Lazarus didn’t kill Abel. He wasn’t strong enough, so Abel fled.”

  Avella raised an eyebrow. “Even if that’s true, how can he still be alive? Lazarus drove him out two hundred years ago. Abel was already a century old then. No Godshard has ever lived this long.”

  The Voice grinned and said, “Our leader is nothing if not creative and persistent. If you join us, you will understand what I mean, and his plans. We are the architects of the future.”

  “Architects? By hunting and rounding up other Godshards? By casting your lot with daemons and Morgash?”

  The Voice sighed. “It is true. We are working with them, but only because their alliance is unstoppable. The Union between the daemons and Morgash is unlike anything the mortal realms or even the Heavens have ever seen. You have seen for yourself its power, and this is but a taste of what they have planned. Morgash is coming, and the world as we know it will never be the same. By casting our lot with them, we have wormed ourselves into their counsels, and when the time is right, we will strike!” The Voice raised an arm and clenched his fist. “We will rise and take control of this world; nothing will stop us, not daemons, not Gods, not monsters. The world will be ours.”

  “And what of the other Godshards? How many of our own will you sacrifice for these delusions?”

  “These are difficult times, and thus we make difficult choices. They are deluded and blind. Their Omni-Shards have twisted their perspective, making it weak and narrow. They will never see. You, on the other hand, can be so much more! You are powerful and beautiful. You could be a mighty right hand, certainly greater than the Shade.” The Voice turned and shot him a mocking smirk. The Shade glared back, fists clenched. “I have communed with Abel. If you join us, you will be reborn as Abel’s Fury, Abel’s Fire. A powerful force of justice as you have always desired. Through us, Maelim, Gods, daemons, all our enemies will be crushed!”

  “You’re asking me to betray everything I stand for?”

  “You’ve been standing on lies this whole time. The nature of your shard, the truth about Abel. How many more lies need to be revealed, and ugly truths shared? Do you really believe Tenebrous was evil? He was slandered by Gods and races that were too blind to see his truths! His brother forsook him. Terra always hated him. The angyls judged him for his violence as if that race can judge anyone for it!”

  Avella shook her head frantically, fighting the words like jabs. “You’re wrong! Tenebrous was a monster. He ruined everything. The Soul River is forked. He laughed as His own nephew died!”

  “I beg you to see reason!” pleaded the Voice. “You know you can never go back to your sacerdozio. That shrew Magdaline will cast you out like Abel, even though you’ve done nothing wrong! You will be judged and ostracized by your so-called friends and allies. They will hate and fear you because they are too ignorant to understand.” The Voice grew closer, his face inches from hers. “Do you think Leo would ever trust you again? Or Etheros? What other choice do you have?”

  Avella was at a loss. She could read him; she knew he wasn’t lying, so either he was speaking the truth or was so deluded he believed he was telling the truth. His words stung fiercely. She knew her position was lost. They would never let her into the Island City again. She felt stuck between two evils, ostracization from her sacerdozio and everyone she held dear or joining a new order to bring destruction to everything she held dear. Was it in her nature? Was she always malicious? All she ever wanted to do was to help people. Was she wrong about Tenebrous, or was he merely misunderstood?

  The Voice pressed on. “Renounce your sacerdozio. Forget the Adamites! We can teach you the truth. All you have to do is join us; we can give you a new purpose and unlock your true self. What say you?”

  He looked at her expectedly. The temptation was great, and Avella looked at his outstretched hand. She thought back to everything, everyone over the past few days. She weighed her actions on the scales. She left Leo to fend for himself in Ravensend. That was callous and a mistake.

  Had she already fallen and just not seen it?

  What about the river? She could have left Leo and the Benelim to die, but she didn’t. Does that mean she still had hope? She held on to that fact like a piece of driftwood in a raging sea. She didn’t know what was real and what were lies anymore but knew that she had done something good at that moment.

  But there was no reconciling the truth of her shard with her order. On and on, back and forth, she went for a while, and the Voice was content to let her deliberate.

  At last, she knew her answer. She knew she was sealing her fate, but it was better than using her powers to hurt innocents. She glared at him with defiance.

  “You’re wrong. I do have another choice. I might not be part of my sacerdozio anymore, but I will never join you! Better I die than hurt anyone else.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he sighed loudly. “So be it.” The spiders approached and sealed her hand back in. “Do not worry; we will find a use for your shard yet.”

  “Go to hell!” Avella spat as the webbing began to lift above her shoulders.

  The Voice backed away, chuckling; this time, full of malice. “My dear Avella, we’re already there!” He muttered a spell, lifted his hand, and the curtains covering a window shifted to the side. Avella glanced at the view.

  They revealed hell.

  It was a twisted and malformed landscape. There were mountains far away, but they were red and blue and solid white. In the distance, she saw hills that looked organic and moaned as wayward souls trod upon them. They were harried by daemons and chased down before being torn to shreds. Lines of slaves were moving and flowed like rivers along the streets of what looked like a town. The white walls of a bastion lay below her. She was deep within its keep.

  In place of bricks, many had eyes or ears, and the gate was a mouth with long sharp teeth. The skies were red, yellow, and purple, shifting and wiggling like sea currents.

  Within the walls was a great host of daemons. These weren’t hunters but warriors, two and three-headed, their bodies mixed between lions, bears, tigers, and great horses. Each had long horns, at least five, and long winding tails, spiked and dripping with poison. They were bulky, robust, fully armored, and ready for war. There were ranks upon ranks of them. Spiders crawled along the walls, and dread-wasps were buzzing in the air.

  “Put her with the others.”