I envy Maisara and Elassa, Iniri and Kavaa, and I even envy Kassandora, and every other Divine that does not have to share a demesne with a demon. Impostors are a universal experiences for Divines, we all get one or two fools every few centuries that try to pretend to be us. Helenna’s impostors are the worst of the lot, vile little seductresses, harlots that besmirch the good graces of humanity through their putrid existence. I am certain they have more in common with snakes and swine on the inside and just happen to physically resemble a human.

But impostors, ultimately, can be gotten rid of. Murdered in the shadows or executed in the sunlight, it matters not. We have demesnes to keep and we keep them like fortresses. That is the case for almost all impostors. A few years ago, I would have not added the ‘almost’. Now, I have a demon who stalks the battlefield and cannot be killed, and I have tried to. Whether its through my own spear or by sending him into the meatgrinder of an Imperial Legion, Pax simply refuses to die.

Worse yet, whereas the demon’s existence is a curse upon me, the demon thinks it a blessing for him that I exist. ‘Peace on Arda!’ He cried upon seeing me. ‘Peace on Arda for Peace is universal!’ We now know that demons are all born biologically, they do not have an equivalent of apotheosis in the same manner that Ardan Divines do. Later on in life, I assume they claim titles for themselves, or maybe they challenge each other for it? No matter how it works, it is not important.

Pax is a verminous and foul leech, a demon born that has accessed some power he cannot bless to others, and then claiming he can sit upon a throne similar to that of one of Arda’s most foundational Divinities. A power total, but with thinking limited to his own self, and no sense of morality, virtue or belief about him. No sense of deeper philosophy beyond a narcissistic security in his own existence. A walking abomination that spits in the name of everything, both good and evil. Existence itself is affronted by his form, and reality is smeared by it.

Before this war started, Malam has met me and told me that Divinity is a sad creature, for we do not naturally know hatred. That it is a taught value, that even humanity needs to be taught the obsession of her demesne. That Divinity, which struggles to form so much as a friendship, can only gaze upon the sheer power that obsessive spite brings out in humans, and that it can only weep for we shall never.

Pax taught me to hate.

– Excerpt from the private writings of Goddess Fortia, of Peace. Written during the Great War.

Fer locked eyes with Pax, the demon stared at the blood in his hands. His own. Was it the first time he had ever seen it? Maybe he got nosebleeds. Maybe he had fallen over and scraped a knee in the past. Maybe he had cut himself accidentally on his own blade. There could have been a thousand different ways to witness the sight of one’s own blood. Fer’s smile grew as her hand closed around another vial of Kavaa’s blood. She popped the cork open, tipped her head back and downed it all in one go. A refreshing mint, with hints of bitterness, that warmed up better than any rum or gin that Fer had ever drank. Or maybe it tasted so good because of the fact the drink wasn’t even for power, but for celebration.

Above Fer, the storm of swords had grown even larger, into a swirling, tangled steel spiderweb which with a thousand different sparks every moment made from metal crashing against metal. Fer ignored the blades which slid across her body. Her regeneration would handle them. They wouldn’t breach her bones or her muscles and she had to see it to believe it.

Pax stood, his white crown of horns, almost pure-white, moved with his head as he turned to gaze up at her. His eyes were large, his hand did not even reach for the sheathed sword on his belt, not that it would do anything. Fer knew she could outfight him, she had done so before. He couldn’t land a blow on her, neither could she on him but that was besides the point. Those red eyes gazed upon Fer with fear and awe. “How?” He asked.

Fer just smiled. “Do not ask me demon. I do not know in the first place.” There was no reason to lie now. Honour demanded the truth.

And everything from Arascus’ endless armoury began to fall around them. Pax’s small army was decimated, one half had been frozen under the shock of the three Divines that had been deployed to the field which had just cut through them, the other half had already broken into a retreat. Although now, they stopped as sword and spear and axe and all manner of other arms suddenly started to plummet from the sky. Behind Pax, a demon fell as a greatsword plunged through his chest. A succubi rose to the sky only to be caught by a hammer. Pax took another hit, another gust of wind slid past Fer and set a dagger towards him. The blade bounced off his armour, but it was another confirmation that Kassandora had indeed been correct.

A blade spear shot through Fer’s side and the Goddess suddenly realised where she stood. In her want to see the demon die, in her quest to smell his blood, she had been drawn out here. Fer’s ears spun and readjusted up, then ducked as she slid to the side. A greatsword that would have sliced her calf shot into the spot she had just stood in. She finally peeled her eyes away from Pax and towards the sky and the weaponry falling upon them. Her fathers arms, all, and…

Fer’s body worked on instinct and reaction. Her eyes caught glints of steel, she dodged from side to side. Past one blade, through another. She twisted around a spear, hit a hammer away, batted a halberd with her claws. The distance of a dozen steps, if that, was crossed. Each step required five dodges or parries, and each step still had at least two cuts involved. And still, the rain got heavier.

Another cut. A blade slammed into her shoulder. A hammer got her calf. Her want to see a thousand year long prey had absent-mindedly led her into Kassandora’s trap. Fer grabbed at the third and final vial of Kavaa’s blood, undid the cork and… A sword smashed into her fist and exploded the glass. Fer jumped forwards, ignoring the cuts entirely at this point. She would slam through the storm and get to safety, to Kavaa, through…

Through miles, she realised, of steel rain. Of Beasthood fell low to the ground and lunged again, her tail working madly to swat any steel away from herself. For every edge she managed to flick back, another slipped across her skin and drew more blood. Fer jumped again, uncaring about the carnage entirely now. Pax’s army would die, that was certain. Pax would be killed too. The steel had started to pour like rain, if it only came from above, it would be manageable at least, but it was rain in the midst of a hurricane. From ahead and from behind, from both sides, from above, the only direction safe was the ground itself. Edges that caught the sun and glinted as the concoction of winds above flung them at the speed of bullets.

Something grabbed Fer by the leg and slammed her into the ground. The grip was like iron, Fer actually felt it in her bones, she had been entirely concentrated on advancing through the storm. A knee trapped her like a vice, between the ground and something far too heavy to be a human. Probably just as heavy as a greater demon.

A shadow covered Fer, the shadow of a perfect rectangle. A tower shield. A deep growl from a voice whose owner Fer had just spent the past weeks doing nothing but pestering. “Idiot.”

—

Maisara stared down at Fer. Why did she even save her? For what reason? If Fer had died here, it would be exactly what Arascus and his Empire… Her mind could not finish the lie. No, they would not deserve it. Maybe Kassandora would deserve the death, although even then Maisara doubted it. It was to be her axe, it was to be a glorious death in battle. That was how Divinity died, not because they had overextended and walked into their own ally’s trap. And…

Maisara stared down at the Fer’s golden looking up at her. “You’re an idiot.” Maisara growled it clearer this time.

Fer did not even seem to realise the comment was about her. Or maybe she did and agreed. Or maybe Maisara’s words just slid off her like. Fer’s words did not slide off Maisara though. “Thank you.” She said.

To that, Maisara did not know how to react. They were on the same side, Fer was obviously not managing without a shield. Kassandora had overestimated her sister’s capabilities, or maybe she had not expected Fer to dive this deep in. It was only natural to save her. “Don’t mention it.” That was the usual reply people should give to that comment, Maisara readjusted her knee and relieved the pressure on Fer’s torso. The thuds from above and the jolts they sent into Maisara’s arm. It was a steady drumming against the barrier, but it would hold. Kassandora had designed these shields specifically for this purpose after all. “Why did you even charge in?”

If there was one thing that Divines did not make, it was mistakes. And if there was one thing that a Divine amongst Divines should be, it was paranoid. And Fer was in both, just as Maisara was. Of Beasthood shifted and curled her legs forward as her wounds began to close up in real time. That regeneration of hers was utterly monstrous. “I had to see it to believe it.” Fer said.

“I can see the storm from outside.” Hopefully, it was flinging blades about haphazardly. It most likely was, but Fortia had her own shield. The rest of them had trenches. And Maisara did not particularly care. The plan had worked, Kassandora factored in the losses no doubt, and one did not need to be an idiot to know a few hundred, even a few thousand, soldiers and conscripts were a good trade against Pax. “It’s Kassandora’s plan.” Maisara replied dryly. “Of course it would work.”

“I still have to see it.” Fer replied. Maisara opened her mouth to argue back, and then decided not to rise to the bait. She herself was just as guilty of it. Until they saw Pax’s white horns laying shattered on the ground, and until Maisara was there to witness the lifeless body, she would not believe it either. “And it’s not my kill.”

“What?” Maisara asked.

“He’s not mine to kill.” Fer turned around. “Get me closer, back to him.”

“We’ll I’m not going to kill him.” Maisara said. He would be killed by no one, by the chaos above them. That was it.

“He’s not yours to kill either.”

“Then who…” Maisara didn’t need to finish the question. The moment the words came out of her mouth, she knew who Fer was referring to. “And if his protection is still active?” Maisara asked.

“We’ll know when we see it.” What an answer. That, Maisara had no argument again, nor did she even want to argue against it. It was true, Pax had to be killed. And the history books deserved only one account of the tale.

“Stand up and stay close then.” The Goddess of Order waited for Fer to stand up, and then they walked back through the torrential downpour of weaponry from above. It wasn’t a long distance to Pax, Fer led the way with her nose, since it was borderline impossible to make anything out through the hailstorm. The demon prince of peace was on his knees, a dozen blades had already made their way through his armour. The crown of horns was ruined and shattered. Maisara said nothing, if he wasn’t dead by now, he would be dead soon. That much was obvious.

But it was not their kill, and Pax would have a killer. “I’ll be fast.” Fer said. She leapt from underneath the umbrella of a tower shield straight towards the demon. Fer’s hand wrapped around Pax’s arm and held him up in the air for a moment. Was the demon already dead? With all the chaos, Maisara couldn’t make whether she saw breathing or not. Knocked out definitely though.

They had done it.

Kassandora had done it.

The loophole had been found.

Pax was done now. Even if he managed to recover from this, a method of kill the unkillable had been found.

But Fer was not done. She throw the body of Pax into the air, not even checking to test its blood for taste. And Fer bellowed out a name. “FORTIA!”

—

Fortia heard the roar of her name over the chaos. She put one arm above her head, to shield her face from the rain of steel. She peeked out from behind the shield. Her eyes caught the sight immediately. Pax had been thrown into the air. His barrier, his power, his guardian angel, whatever it was, had stalled out under the storm.

There was no question about it. Fortia reached her arm back, her spear rematerialized in her hand. She arched her back, one foot was planted forwards, her free arm extended for leverage. The other foot went behind and dug into the dirt. Her eyes squinted as she took aim. The demon practically glided through the air. Of Peace twisted, put all her strength into her torso, built up the power as blades fell across the field to make a cemetery of steel.

The ground around Fortia burst upwards as she put all her force into the throw.

All the tension in her coiled body released in one instant.

The spear left Fortia’s hand.

And only Arda’s Peace remained.

– – – End of Arc 18: Peace, Imperial – – –

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