FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Sadik," Kavaia said.

He trudged into the sewers, carving a path through the drains and shadows. Every step earned a weeping of scarlet red. On the walls, stone ran thick with coagulation. Iron strangled the air.

“Sadik."

Xaeyr's moon and Kavaia's hammer were the only sources of light in the tunnel. Unfortunately, the two gods were very large, and both were struggling to match Sadik's pace through the confined space, shuffling on their hands and knees. Many deities followed at their heels.

Sadik continued ahead, embracing the edge of the light. He walked into the darkness without fear, for he had made these tunnels his home, and he had skulked their passage many times. There was a certain yearning, out there, in the void.

It was amazing what one could grow accustomed to.

Blood. Sewage. Decay.

The loss of the sun.

“Sadik!" Kavaia shouted, her deep voice echoing through the tunnels. “Namaig novsh, just wait a moment!"

He paused in a diversion chamber, where a dozen tunnels lined a circular room, and a grating sat at the end of a long upward shaft, far above his head. On a good night, he might've been able to see the moon from here—tonight, the metal bars had been crusted with blood, and the clouds of dust were still hanging thick above Acheron. The light of the moon was gone.

Behind him, gods crawled through the muck of the sewers, like the many refugees who had come before them.

Sadik breathed in.

He touched his cheek again, where Hisana had touched him, testing for any unfamiliar feeling. There was nothing. No blemish on the skin, no cancer beneath the meat. He couldn't stop imagining Rushan's arm—glistening with eyes, the flesh sloughing away, revealing a sharpened spike of bone.

His infection seemed to be dormant. If it was changing his body, he had no way to know. More importantly, if no one was told, they would have no idea he was infected at all.

He tried to breathe again.

Behind him, the two gods emerged from the low hanging tunnel, filling the chamber with light and bodies. Sadik had to step aside.

“I should put a leash on you," Kavaia said, breathing hard, the spines of her head covered in muck. “Perhaps a firm grasp will disincline you from wandering."

Sadik looked up at her, silent.

“'Oh, goddess,'" she continued, imitating his voice. “'I am a stubborn, foolish man. I do nothing but put myself in peril. For my sins, allow me to kiss and beg at your feet.'"

He raised a brow, set his jaw, and turned his gaze toward the tunnel ahead.

“Too much?" Kavaia asked.

“A little."

She tried to say something else, but her lack of breath overwhelmed her, and she ended up leaning against a wall, panting with an open maw. Little wounds began to open in her skin.

“You fucking coward," Xaeyr said.

The god of cataracts stood to his full height, nearly hitting the ceiling of the chamber. His creamy fur was slathered in blood, and the moon above his head was dim and reeling, barely staying in orbit.

“You let them take her," he said, baring his fangs. “You just stood there and watched."

Sadik did not answer.

Xaeyr glared down at him, just as he had glared at the gods during Lanir's trial. “I'm glad to know this is how you repay loyalty, Sadik. Years of service. A brave soldier! Fed to that fucking thing! And for what?"

“Xae," Kavaia said, a warning in her voice.

Xaeyr leaned over him, fanged and bloody. “I thought you were better than this! Silty marsh, the plague makes a puppet of your dead lover, and all the fight immediately dies! What a man to serve!"

Kavaia climbed to her feet, hammer in hand. A rumble filled the chamber.

“Oh," Xaeyr said, mocking. “Quite defensive of your little redeemer, aren't you, Kivie? Afraid he'll fuck someone else?"

Kavaia took a step forward. “Stop talking."

“Goddess," Sadik said. “Stop. Let him speak."

She looked down at him, growling. Behind her, a dozen gods watched from a darkened tunnel.

“My lord," Sadik said. “Call me a coward again."

Xaeyr loomed above him, his face shadowed by his own moon.

“Tell me," Sadik continued, “that I betrayed my last surviving friend. Faustine was first. The Vizier was next. Now, there's no one left."

“Fuck you," Xaeyr replied. “You stupid, furless ape. What the fuck were you thinking?"

“I don't know."

The baboon gave a breathless laugh, as if that was the worst reply he could have heard. “You don't know?"

“Aldunya is a machine," Sadik said.

Surprise spread through the chamber. Amongst the gods in the tunnel, there were glances and whispers, denial and confusion.

“She is an ancestor," Sadik continued, “who wants only to control our society. Our entire culture is a calculation. Every god is a puppet. If you look at it properly, Acheron is nothing more than a city of livestock."

“Where is this coming from?" Kavaia asked

“Rushan."

“And you believe the mad jackal?" Xaeyr asked.

“I do."

Kavaia blinked in surprise. Xaeyr shook his head, sneering.

“So, yes," Sadik said. “I don't know. I don't know why I let the plague take Amira. I really don't think I know anything, anymore." He glanced into the distance ahead, through darkness and mud. “All I know is that Rushan is coming to our base, and I cannot waste time in mourning."

Xaeyr tried to take a breath. Soon, his leg buckled beneath him, and he ended up collapsing against a wall, cracking the stone with his weight. He cradled his face between his hands. It seemed like he was struggling not to cry.

In the darkness, more than a dozen gods were watching Sadik, their reactions varying from sympathy to disgust.

“Sadik," Kavaia said. “Are you . . . feeling the plague?"

“Not yet."

“You are still yourself?"

“As much as I can be."

“Good. Yes. Well. . . ."

She looked at him for a long moment. There was worry in her gaze, but it wasn't solely for his health—he could see another question in her mind, one that she couldn't quite manage to say. Her long maw shifted with an unspoken name.

Hisana.

Sadik released a sigh.

Eventually, Kavaia nodded, wiping a streak of blood from her snout. “Right. You're here. That's enough. Anything else, we can work through together. Yes?"

Sadik looked back at her.

“'Yes, goddess,'" Kavaia said.

“. . . yes, goddess."

“Excellent." She moved through the chamber. “In that case, allow me to lead the way."

“Goddess—"

“Sadik," she said. “If there's one thing I've learned from you, it's how to be a stubborn fool. Now, let's focus on other matters, and . . . talk about this later. Yes?"

“Yes, goddess."

He stepped aside. Kavaia ducked low and began to shuffle through the tunnel ahead. After a moment of pause, Sadik began to follow behind.

They continued through the sewers. Kavaia led them across hills of mulch, entire rivers of blood, all of it draining further into the earth, sucking down into shafts and drains and holes. Despite the challenges, Sadik was able to help her navigate with relative ease—when memory failed, there were coded messages on the walls, left by Sons of Sorrow operatives, describing which passages were safe and which were best avoided. Every symbol was a sign that they were getting closer.

Because she was stooped over, Sadik was forced to watch her tail. He might have looked at her ass. Eventually, his eyes wandered to the muck beneath his feet, his thoughts growing distant.

He didn't feel any Glimmer withdrawal.

The rest of the gods were struggling to match his pace. By now, most had lost their powers, and several were already entering the advanced stages, where the modifications began to slough from the body. Muscles atrophied. Organs seeped through the skin. Every time he glanced behind him, there was a new god falling to their hands and knees, watching their divinity melt between their fingers.

Sadik, on the other hand, was feeling fine. His wounds were closing with remarkable speed, and his tattoos were beginning to glow on their own, almost without thought. While everyone around him starved for Glimmer, it seemed like he had received a fresh, potent dose.

In a way, this was the truth.

The plague was Glimmer.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Oh, for fuck's sake," Kavaia said.

Ahead, at the end of a long tunnel, a sea of ruined buildings stretched into the distance, cocooned beneath a ceiling of pipes and metal struts. Just before the ruins, a crowd of gods lingered before a pair of Sons, currently blocking the way with their sunspears. Between all the deities, there was a large, flaming dragon, angrily vibrating the air.

This is ridiculous! We were sent here for aid, by your commander! Relinquish your reserves, right this moment, or you will face censure!

One of the Sons—a male macaque—hesitantly aimed his spear at the dragon.

You utter, contemptuous fool! I am the arbiter of truth and justice! I have commanded more laws than you have had chance to bathe! LET US THROUGH!

“P-please, goddess," the other Son said. “We were given orders. . . ."

Lanir began to spread her wings—the flames on her scales were growing dim, but she was still a very large dragon, and she glared down at the two soldiers with red, pupil-less eyes. Some of the other gods began to join her side.

Kavaia stomped ahead, muttering beneath her breath. Sadik noted the scorch marks lining the walls, as well as the swiveling pink ears of Yasmin, who was still riding the dragon's back, and trying very hard to escape any notice. She had always hated confrontation. More than once, he had found her hiding beneath a surgery bed, or scrambling into the branches of a tree, just to avoid talking to a servant.

Eventually, when the shouting reached a fever pitch, the two Sons noticed his approach. Their reaction was one of immediate startlement, followed by confusion. “Sir?"

“What is the meaning of this?" Sadik asked.

Lanir raised her chin. I am being unduly incensed, by menials before the court. Pillories should be their admonishment.

Kavaia glared up at the dragon. Lanir met her gaze, gave a small flinch, and slowly furled her wings against her back.

“Sir," one of the Sons—a female cheetah—said to Sadik. “What are you doing here?"

“Are you alright?" the other added.

Sadik could only imagine his appearance. Maimed, half-clothed, covered in blood and sewage. “It's been a difficult day."

The two soldiers looked between each other, still confused.

“What are you doing?" Sadik asked. “Why are you barring their way?"

“Because you told us to, sir."

A chill ran down his spine.

“You just passed through here," the macaque said, “a little while ago, with the rat girl—uh—what's her name—"

“Yasmin," the cheetah said.

“Yeah, yeah, right." He swallowed nervously. “Um—well—when you passed our checkpoint, you told us not to let anyone through, under any circumstances. Didn't say anything else. Just—no entry. At all."

Sadik cursed beneath his breath. Behind him, Xaeyr and the other crowd of gods began to approach, joining into a sizable group of deities. The two guards began to look very apprehensive.

“What?" the macaque said, scratching his neck fur. “We thought it was odd, but . . . you know. . . ."

Yasmin, please reveal yourself.

There was a pause. After a moment, Yasmin crawled up near the dragon's shoulder, giving an awkward wave to the soldiers below.

“Oh," the cheetah said. “Shit."

“Wh—what—" The macaque waved his spear in frustration. “You were there, all this time? You couldn't say something?"

Yasmin gave a helpless shrug, wringing her tail between her hands.

“Focus," Sadik said. “The man you saw wasn't me. It was a clone. I'm assuming they had my sword?"

The cheetah flicked her eyes between several gods. “Um—yes?"

“Where did they go?"

Both the guards glanced over their shoulders. Beyond, the ruins of old Acheron stretched into a gloomy distance. Rubble sagged through a broken street. Guards patrolled with torch and spear.

“Yasmin went to her laboratory," the macaque said, “and . . . you went to see Haakon. In the war temple."

“The Vizier," the cheetah corrected.

“Right, right, yeah. He took the mask, sir, while you were out."

Sadik chewed his lip, staring off into the broken stone and hanging pipes.

“Lanir," Kavaia said. “Take Yasmin and the rest of your forces to her laboratory. Intercept the clone, try to prevent as much sabotage as possible. Sadik and I will advance to the temple of Rushan, in order to prevent a decapitation of mortal leadership. When you're finished, meet us there."

Lanir turned her gaze to Sadik, flickering with flame.

“Do it," he said.

The dragon huffed, spread her wings once more, and forced her way through the two Sons in front of her, giving them little time to avoid being trampled. Once she was free of the tunnel, she began to gallop across the ruins, much like a horse, narrowly avoiding the ruined homes and low-hanging ceiling. Yasmin screamed in terror.

“All of you," Kavaia said, hefting her hammer. “With me."

The goddess of death ran through the gloomy streets, and more than a dozen gods followed at her back, with Sadik trailing off to the side. Stone trembled beneath their heavy feet. Dust belched and swirled. Every Son who entered their path was driven back into the alleyways, staring in wonder at the many gods, while the Kesunae reared back on their horses, shouting in a foreign language.

Without slowing down, Sadik gave orders to every man he passed. Issue an evacuation. Protect the refugees. Fall back to the secondary sites.

The god of war was coming, and they did not have much time.

A stampede grew through the streets. Guards shouted and dashed, charging their spears with power. Almost without exception, everyone was growing weak from the sudden lack of Glimmer, from the lowest mortals to the highest gods. Many would begin to die.

For a moment, Sadik looked at Kavaia, a glowing hammer in hand, running at the head of an army, and he thought of every battle he had ever fought with Ilios, when he was sure that his duty was noble.

He began to run faster.

Rushan's temple rose above the rest of the ruins—a large pyramid, covered in braziers and rows of pylons, with a grand staircase stitching itself through the stone. They took the stairs at a sprint. Some gods were forced to crawl, weak and vomiting. In contrast, Sadik was almost free of exhaustion, and he used his newfound strength to look for any sign of struggle amongst the temple, a sign that Faustine had already commenced her attack.

Nothing.

No guards, no assassins.

He was only reassured when he finally ascended the stairs, and he saw Zaria crouched outside the sanctuary entrance, trying to hide in the shadows.

She looked at the stampede of gods, startled. There was a desperate hand motion. A call for stealth.

Inside the sanctuary, he heard a loud, booming voice.

“Can I expect," Haakon said, “that you will always fuck our plans, Sadik? Or should I just be happy whenever your brain acts before your cock?"

Sadik fell into a crouch, closing the distance to the sanctuary at a low run. Kavaia gave a quick hand signal to the other gods, having them wait at the stars, and followed at his back, covering him with her shadow.

“What the fuck you doin'?" Zaria hissed, once they were close.

“Clearly, I am baking a cake."

“Oh, aye. Cute." The hyena gestured at the large, curved doorway. “I mean, what are you doin'?"

Sadik leaned around Zaria, glancing inside.

Inside the temple sanctuary, a bed of candles was glowing along an altar, surrounded by painted columns. The hologram was active. Currently, it showed a hollow outline of the sewer systems below Acheron, where a colossal branch was impaling itself from top to bottom. Most of the surrounding tunnels were flashing red, like blood around a thorn.

Haakon stood beneath the hologram, his face covered in a red stone mask, the feathers on his chest shimmering with blue and violet. At his side, nearly two feet shorter, the clone of Sadik stood with a respectful bow. Dusksong lay sheathed across his back.

“Do you have any idea," Haakon continued, rubbing his beak with a feathered arm, “how remarkable it is—the escalation of your heresy? Your transgressions know no bounds! First, you adopt an exiled god as a concubine. Soon after, you open our gates to barbarians, who barely remember to wipe their hands after they shit. Now, for some godsdamned reason, you attempted to save the heavens, and instead brought them crashing down on our heads!"

“I'm sorry, my lord," the fake Sadik said.

“Sorry? Sorry?" He spread his lower wings, his feathers a bristling red. “I am at my wit's end! I thought the curses were severe enough! Oh, but, now, all the gods are vagrants, and all our Glimmer is turning to dust in the blood! The healthy are joining the sick!" He waved his arms, causing a dozen feathers to spiral through the air. “I am going to resemble a plucked chicken in a matter of hours! By the stars, how the fuck do you keep making things worse?"

The fake Sadik deepened his bow.

“Don't you show deference to me, you little shit! Sweep your cock off the floor and do something about it!"

“Quite a king you got there," Zaria said.

“I've known worse," Kavaia replied.

Behind them, Xaeyr poked his head above the temple stairs, silently waiting for orders. Sadik gave him a signal to wait.

“So," Zaria said, “how's it you're in two places at once?"

“That's a clone," Sadik said.

“A whatsit now?"

“A copy. A mimic."

Zaria frowned. “Do you cunts ever make somethin' other than fairy tale horrors?"

“Not particularly, no."

The fake Sadik began to examine the hologram, tracing the tunnels around Aldunya's branch. Haakon glared at him for a moment, blew an angry breath through his mask, and moved over to the side of the sanctuary, where a series of columns told the story of the demonic invasion, centuries ago. Rushan was highlighted in many scenes. Black fur, golden streaks.

Isaac was standing by the columns. He had one arm in a sling, a girdle around his abdomen, and a journal carefully balanced on a thigh, which he was using to transcribe the myths on the column. From the way he grunted, it was taking a lot of willpower to remain upright.

“How are you feeling?" Haakon asked, approaching.

The human gave a strained smile. “Better, thank you."

“I would offer more medicine, but it is rather limited. Especially without Glimmer."

“I'll manage," Isaac said, wincing. “I once took several knives from a mad bunny."

“Yes, well, hurry up and transcribe our cultural secrets, so you may return to bed. I'll not have my patient open his dressings."

“It almost seems like you're growing fond of me."

Haakon turned on his taloned feet. “If anyone asks, you're still a savage."

From the entrance of the sanctuary, Sadik watched his clone at the hologram, trying to track its attention. It seemed as if Faustine was searching the secondary tunnels around the base itself. If Sadik had to guess, she was trying to determine the locations of their safehouses and evacuation routes.

It made sense. When Rushan began his assault on their headquarters, she would proceed through the drains and sewers beyond, cutting down any souls who tried to flee. There would not be many survivors.

Sadik gripped a stone tile with his remaining hand.

“Zaria," Kavaia said. “Why were you waiting outside the room?"

“Your rainbow parrot told me to, in so many words."

“He did?" Sadik asked.

“Aye. Look at him now."

Haakon stood a few cubits behind the fake Sadik. Most of his face was not visible beneath the red mask, but his eyes were sharp, and his feathers were beginning to shift into a cautious yellow.

“Used to be an urchin," Zaria said. “Cutpurse, right? Got good at readin' people. Way they walk, talk, carry themselves." She pointed at the clone. “I knew that weren't you, right away. So did Haakon. I think he's stallin' for us."

The falcon continued to watch the clone. After a moment, he glanced at the entrance of the sanctuary, in a way that was quite obviously planned. Instead of Zaria alone, he saw Sadik and Kavaia watching from the shadows, along with a litany of gods on the stairs.

Haakon blinked beneath the mask. He swiveled his head between the real Sadik and the one he had been speaking to for several minutes. A bolt of crimson shot through his feathers.

Sadik gave a hand signal.

Haakon closed his beak, glanced at the clone again, and gave a slow, firm nod.

“Sadik," the falcon said, striding forward. “I see you're standing around, doing nothing. Do you plan on masturbating any longer? Should I pretend to be the sun, just for your pleasure?"

The clone didn't glance at Haakon. Instead, with his back turned, he began to bare his teeth in a hiss. It was the exact same expression that Faustine always wore. “I am planning the evacuation routes," he said, tersely.

“You've already planned them, weeks ago. Have you forgotten?"

“Some of the tunnels have collapsed beneath the branch. The routes have to change."

“Hm. I see."

Haakon glanced at the doorway again. Sadik gestured with his hand, and Xaeyr rushed forward, trying to dim the light of his moon. Kavaia began to tense for a dash.

“Well," Haakon said, taking another step forward, “since you're so obviously occupied, I'll just ask a question that you have so far failed to mention."

The clone pursed his lips. “Yes?"

“What happened to Amira? The rest of the gods?"

There was a pause. Slowly, the fake Sadik turned his attention away from the hologram, fully facing Haakon. “If they're not dead, they should be."

“You didn't save them?"

“I would've watched them die, if I had the time. Decadent fools, to the last."

A silence rested in the chamber. Candles danced with flame.

“Is that so?" Haakon asked, his voice slightly wavering. “What good are you, then? You didn't take the palace, you've sheared our tree of its branch." He puffed out his chest. “What reason do I have to keep you in command?"

The fake Sadik said nothing. Even from a distance, the real Sadik could tell that he was judging the angles, measuring every distance. Dusksong remained sheathed to his back. With it, he could slice Haakon in half, obliterate Isaac with a single sunbeam.

The human mage glanced up from his journal. Zaria kept her eye solely on him.

“Are you going to say something?" Haakon said.

“Yes," Sadik replied. “Death to tyrants."

With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, pulling Dusksong free from its sheath. Haakon stumbled back. Isaac failed to cast a spell, shouting in pain.

Everyone rushed from the doorway.

The real Sadik went straight, sprinting in a charge. The fake Sadik turned, surprised, giving Haakon just enough distraction to kick him in the chest. Talons raked across bronze. There was a snarl, a slash of steel. Feathers flew through the air. When it was done, Haakon collapsed to the floor, clutching his throat, while the fake Sadik braced Dusksong at his side, the broken mouth bulging with energy.

Sadik continued to run. At the last possible moment, when the sunbeam was a searing star in his eyes, he threw himself to the floor, feeling a blistering lance of yellow inches above his head. His hair burned. Stone evaporated.

Xaeyr emerged from the side, clutching his broken moon in hand. He threw it like a meteor. The fake Sadik barely managed to raise his sword before the small planet slammed into the blade, shattering on impact, sending the human tumbling across the sanctuary.

Xaeyr closed the distance. Sadik leaped back to his feet. Behind them, Kavaia moved around the wooden altar, sealing off the flank.

The fake Sadik began to snarl.

He dodged a kick from Xaeyr, slashing in reply. Sadik slammed his shoulder into the bronze armor, attempting to grab a wrist, but he took an elbow to the jaw, and a near miss from the sword. Energy bulged at the mouth. When Xaeyr aimed another kick, the clone leaped back, greatsword braced at his side, the last few runes burning as bright as the stars.

For a moment, the room was full of shouting, and Sadik could only stare at the surging beam of energy, aimed directly at his chest.

A shadow fell across the clone.

From the side, Kavaia slammed Dawnstar down. The clone splattered into the floor, candles died upon the altar, and Dusksong clattered off to the side, searing a wild sunbeam across the sanctuary walls. When Kavaia raised her hammer, the clone was lying in a sea of broken stone, his armor sunken into his chest, like a fist digging through mud.

The goddess of death prepared another blow. There was no rush. By the time her hammer was poised, the clone could only manage a gasp, weakly raising his hand.

She swung down. There was a squelching, a contraction of the body, a loose jawbone skittering across the floor. All movement ceased. Slowly, Kavaia raised her hammer from Faustine's skull, letting the meat and bone drip from the steel. Runes glowed with a brilliant energy.

There was a moment of silence.

“Fucking savages!" Haakon yelled.

He stumbled to his feet, still clutching his throat. Blood poured over feathers. When Sadik ran to his side, the falcon limply waved him away.

“I am perfectly fine!"

“My lord," Sadik said, trying to reach up to the eight foot tall bird, “let me—"

“Do not touch me!"

Sadik pulled his hand away, forming a loose parade rest.

Haakon released his hand from his throat. “The cut is shallow. A quarter inch deeper, and I would be gushing my tribute to the god of war."

Sadik glanced around the room. Stone had melted beneath the sunbeams, weeping down toward the floor. A dozen gods crowded the chamber. Exits were watched, candles rekindled. Kavaia tended to one of Xaeyr's wounds.

“Sadik," Haakon said, peering down at him through the mask. “Before we begin, thank you for saving my life."

Sadik gave a respectful nod.

“Now, you shit-flinging ape, what in the ever-leafing fuck do you think you're doing?"

“Well, I—"

“You destroyed our sacred tree! I thought monkeys liked swinging in trees! Is it too much to ask for your simian droppings to not fall directly on my head!"

Xaeyr glared at the falcon.

“My lord," Sadik said, calmly. “Do you . . . want me to prove it's me?"

“No," Haakon replied, his four wings flaring across his back. “That clone—or whatever the fuck—only bowed and curtsied and said what I wanted to hear. I can see you are going to argue about it."

“If you'll let me."

“I will!"

“That is good to hear."

“Yes, yes! Hurry up!"

“Of course, my lord."

“Explain yourself!"

“I am trying to."

The falcon folded his arms, his feathers a bright, angry red.

Sadik lowered his gaze, catching a sight of Zaria and Isaac, huddled between the columns. The hyena was helping him redress the bandages. A paw stroked his hair.

“Where is Amira?" Haakon asked.

Sadik closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and led the Vizier over to the wooden altar, where dozens of candles flickered with flame, and a hologram glowed before the ceiling. Haakon folded his arms. Xaeyr approached from the side, his head moonless and bare. Eventually, Kavaia approached the altar with Dusksong in hand.

“Don't make me kill you again," she said.

Sadik took his sword. The haft was still warm, and another rune had gone dark on the blade, leaving only a bare few letters of energy. After a sigh, he stared at the candles upon the altar, wrestling with his thoughts.

Rushan's statue loomed above the firelight.

Slowly, without embellishment, he began to relay his story. It took a fair time in telling. As he spoke, Haakon went through a variety of expressions—shock, outrage, some measure of sympathy—and, by the time he was done, the falcon was looking at him in silence, his beak solemn beneath the mask.

Firelight flickered against the columns. For a time, the only sound in the temple was Isaac hissing at his wounds.

“I still don't believe this shit," Xaeyr said.

There were several nods from the other gods. Haakon rubbed the wound on his throat, losing himself in thought.

“Rushan is a madman," the baboon continued. “Of course he's going to spin you a tale of deceit and heresy. That is the method of tyrants. Change the past, control the future." He rubbed a bare spot on his head, as if feeling for his moon. “You weren't there in the pantheon, when Ilios was first found murdered. Rushan took every advantage of the chaos. He is a devious, conniving liar, and I'd sooner pray to the shit in my ass than the words from his mouth."

Sadik leaned on the altar, watching Haakon. The falcon remained silent.

“I remember a night with Rushan," Kavaia said, “some time ago, when this meeting with Aldunya supposedly occurred. I arrived in his chambers to find him viciously angry. Completely inconsolable. He . . . struck me, more than once, and when I found the courage to leave, it only worsened his fury. He has never been the same."

Dust drifted through the air. Outside, there was the distant sound of evacuation. Pounding hooves, shouted orders.

“My lord?" Sadik asked, still staring at Haakon. “I expected a louder response."

The falcon waved a hand. “Please. I know how to consider my thoughts, when matters are important."

Off to the side, Zaria snorted.

“I can't deny your words," Haakon said. “I want to, of course. In better times, I'd have you flogged for saying anything of the sort. But now. . . ." He stroked his beak, feathers glistening into green. “I can't stop thinking about these curses. The blood, the blisters, the earthquakes. Why would Aldunya insist on levying these curses, when it only made things worse?"

“It maintains the establishment," Sadik replied. “It's a reinforcement of order. Hierarchy. If the gods could die without consequence, it would encourage more resistance, topple her control."

Haakon glanced over at the columns, looking troubled.

“When the gods returned from their seclusion," Kavaia said, “Rushan gave himself the power to appoint new deities, and Aldunya allowed it, because it helped maintain order. It gave the people faith. At the same time, she tried to hide her infection, when all of us were begging for guidance."

Haakon raised his gaze to the ceiling, breathing deep.

“If I may," Isaac said, leaning against Zaria. “You are standing in the ruins of your own city. There are many more below. To me, that says only one thing—there have been many catastrophes throughout your history, and she was always willing to let Acheron die."

Sadik remembered the palace. Operation Fading Dawn.

CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL—

“Gods!" Haakon shouted, wings flaring at his back. “I don't know what to think! What response could I possibly have?" He turned to Sadik. “And why the fuck did you bring the plague here?"

Sadik did not answer. Kavaia shifted on her feet.

“You are infected," Haakon said. “You are now a walking vector of destruction. Does the idea of a quarantine procedure mean nothing to you? Do you have any idea how hard I have worked to turn this shit-heap ruin into a sanctuary?"

“It's not that simple," Sadik said.

“Oh, isn't it! We were trying to protect the innocent from the plague, and you have brought it into our midst! You allowed it to consume your second in command!" He threw up his hands. “Tell me this, at the very least—the clone over there was definitely not you, but how am I supposed to know that the Sadik in front of me is not a fake, as well? What if the plague is already altering your soul?"

“I believe him," Kavaia said, quietly.

“On what grounds?" Haakon asked.

“Faith." She looked down at Sadik, yellow eyes reflecting the candlelight. “Hope."

Xaeyr shook his head. The other gods began to whisper and murmur.

Haakon placed his hands on his hips, chest bared and feathers red. “Truly? If you're so sure, then go over there and touch him."

She glanced between either side of the altar.

“Go on," Haakon said. “Show your devotion."

There was a slight hesitation. After a moment, Kavaia leaned her hammer against the statue of Rushan, walked around the altar, and stood in front of Sadik. Her white dress glowed with a mixture of orange candles and hologram blue. Blood flaked across her scales.

Slowly, she fell down to a knee, bringing their eyes to equal level.

She looked at him. He looked at her.

There was another hesitation.

She took a deep breath, grabbed him by the elbow, and pulled him into a hug, burying him in a cocoon of arms and breasts and scales. The long ridge of her snout hooked against his shoulder. Her hand stroked his back. With her godly size, he grew lost in leathery skin and the coolness of scale.

Sadik found his legs growing weak, as if the weight of everything was hitting him at once.

The truth of his faith. The destruction of the pantheon.

Amira clapping him on the back, grinning wide.

He buried his face in the bulge of her neck, closing his eyes to the world, and Kavaia squeezed him closer, rubbing the hard ridge of her cheek against his head.

More than a dozen eyes were watching them. For a few blissful moments, it did not matter.

Eventually, without any hurry, she pulled away, looking down at their bodies. There was no sign of a cancerous growth. No cerulean light. Their flesh was pure and whole.

“There," Kavaia said, still looking at Sadik. “Happy?"

Sadik squeezed her wrist, trying to wipe his eyes.

On the other side of the altar, Haakon's beak had fallen slightly open. “Well. That was . . . brave of you, goddess."

“I have faith," Kavaia replied. “It gets challenged, and it perseveres. That is the true meaning of belief."

“I had every right to be suspicious."

“I agree. But fuck you, anyway."

She stood back to her full height, going to retrieve her hammer. Sadik gazed around the room, trying not to focus on the memory of her touch.

“I am still myself," he said. “Rushan retained his mind. The plague claims to be evolving. I don't know what that means for the future, but, for now, the only symptom appears to be a lack of Glimmer withdrawal."

Haakon brushed a wing with his hand. Several feathers flew into the air. There was a barely restrained sigh. “Fine. Fine! We will continue on, in the face of all adversity. I suppose shit will turn into a diamond, if you press it hard enough."

Sadik cleared his throat. “Let's discuss more urgent matters."

“Yes, yes, moving on." The falcon steepled his hands into a tree. “May Amira find peace, among the stars."

Sadik did not return the gesture. “I've already spread word of an evacuation. It should be well under way."

“Good. Excellent." Haakon abandoned his prayer and glared up at the hologram, where a massive tree branch was strangled by a network of tunnels. Red lights continued to flash. “I was coordinating with the Lord of Bones, hoping to move some of the refugees back to the surface, now that the Demokrats are gone. His men—and their horses—are already mobilized for mass transportation."

“Give me population estimates," Sadik said, leaning on the altar. “These tunnels are not large, and we should split our routes as much as possible, for both safety and congestion."

Haakon moved around the side of the wooden altar, skirting in front of Kavaia. He was tall enough for his head to reach her breasts. “A good amount of our refugees can move on their own, but the rest will need assistance. That's not even accounting for the transport of supplies."

“Abandon the supplies. Lives are more important."

“Those lives will end without the supplies, you stupid monkey! We'll just be tossing the dying out into the muck! I can only imagine that our . . . our. . . ."

The falcon trailed off. When Sadik looked, he was staring off toward the entrance of the temple sanctuary, his feathers glowing a bright purple.

Kavaia released a breath. Xaeyr took a step back. Zaria dragged Isaac behind the cover of the painted columns. All around the room, the surviving gods began to gasp and scatter, clearing paths and muttering prayers.

Sadik felt a tightening in his chest, a feeling that something was beginning to vibrate and stir, all on its own, as if the plague inside him was resonating with another.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Beyond the room, in the darkness of the temple, where braziers burned with open flame, and pylons rose to a sunless sky, two figures were ascending the stairs.

The first was Faustine, clad with bronze and burgundy cloth, her two khopeshes slung at her side.

Behind her, Rushan rose upon the stairs, his black fur melding with the darkness.