A god’s voice broke the silence.
“Are you two sure about this?”
The faint glow of evening filtered through the stained glass window, casting an orange light across shattered flagstones and splintered pews. The name of the church had long since been forgotten, and now the only ones present there were a god and two adventurers.
“You really want to help me with my stupid little plan?”
Erebus seemed amiable enough at the moment. The wicked charisma of absolute evil was nowhere to be seen.
The three were completely alone. Passersby rarely frequented this corner of the Labyrinth City, but that wasn’t why the god had shed his mask and presented himself as he truly was.
Opposite him stood a man and woman.
“’Tis a little late to ask now,” said the ashen-haired one, opening her heterochromatic eyes and casting Erebus an accusatory glare. “Was it not you who sought us out and dragged us from our seclusion when we were content to wait for death?”
“Yes,” said the man clad in a large set of plate armor, a smile upon his diabolical features. “What was it you who told us? If we’re to die either way, then why not allow the future to be built upon our backs? I must say, you surprised us both. But as I recall, we already gave our answers back then.”
Erebus gave a theatrical shrug. His two partners in crime—Zald and Alfia—were so brazen in the way they spoke to a divine being like himself, that he couldn’t help but smile.
“Just want to be sure,” he said. “This is your last chance to back out.”
Erebus turned up his palm, as though offering a contract to sign in blood.
“Whatever happens from here on out, the two of you will be remembered as villains. Villains who betrayed humankind and slaughtered hundreds, thousands. You’ll go down forever in history, and not in a good way.”
It was the truth. A plan was being forged that would in ten days raise up evil and knock down justice, and end in a terrible war of good and evil.
Lines of right and wrong would be drawn, and the names of all present would forever be uttered in the same breath as history’s greatest monsters.
“Are you both really sure that’s what you want?”
Alfia and Zald returned only bored and fearless expressions.
“How many times would you have us say it, Erebus? We made up our minds long ago, and it was not done with such little deliberation that we would change our answer now.”
“History can remember me however it likes, but I will die content.”
Like a wicked witch, Alfia was undaunted by the sins that lay ahead of her.
Like a soldier, Zald dismissed the assumed guilt of his future actions with a scoff.
Bathed in the light of evening, these two conquerors seemed far too genial for the name. Erebus softened his gaze and smiled back.
Truly, they were both heroes. Even a god could see that.
“My god taught me that anything can be a treasure if you set your mind to it. A sword, a woman, or even life itself. Not that he ever inspired great confidence.”
At Zald’s lighthearted jab, Alfia suddenly grew intensely displeased.
“Must you really remind me of that lecherous old man?” she spat. “How many times did his wandering hand approach my breasts? It irritates me to this day that your god is ever spoken in the same breath as my own.”
Never one to let a juicy morsel slip, Erebus chimed in.
“Oh?” he said, his voice taking on a sultry tone. “Don’t stop there, dear Alfia, you must tell me more. Whatever came of this god’s philandering?”
“My spells taught him a lesson before he could lay one finger on me,” she answered, in a tone devoid of mercy.
“Zeus, you’re lucky you didn’t get sent back to heaven…”
“And then I told Hera about it.”
“Zeus, you’re lucky you’re alive…”
Erebus gave an awkward smile. He turned his empty eyes toward the cracked ceiling and beheld the sky beyond. After a few beats of silence, Zald chuckled.
“Ha-ha-ha… But, are you sure you have no regrets, Alfia?” he asked. “Didn’t you want to see the child?”
At this, Erebus’s ears suddenly pricked up.
“Hmm?” he asked. “I didn’t know you had a child, Alfia. You’re looking remarkably stunning for a woman who’s given birth.”
“It is not mine,” replied Alfia, shaking her head. “The child belongs to my younger sister.”
Then she lifted her head and squinted through the cracked glass toward the sunset outside.
“The blood of a child of Hera runs in his veins…as does the blood of one of Zeus’s.”
“Huh. You mean, the kid’s dad is from Zeus Familia?”
Erebus’s curiosity was piqued, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to ascertain how this would tip the world’s scales. It was Zald, after a moment of awkward hesitation, who elucidated.
“…Yes,” he admitted. “One of the lowliest humans in our ranks, in fact. So weak that even that boar and the hero child could best him.”
Zald could barely stand being associated with such an embarrassment. Just thinking about it gave him chills.
“It happened after our group was wiped out by the Black Dragon under Maxim’s leadership. I still remember how furious I was when I heard. One of our own, knocking up a Hera girl?”
Zald suddenly looked so guilty that he was ready to die on the spot. He couldn’t even maintain eye contact with Alfia, who simply stood there, exuding malevolence.
“I mean, we speak of Hera’s women! Do you understand?! Even after the Black Dragon rendered her familia as desolate as ours, it was suicide to violate their purity!”
Erebus smiled. “A curious stance for the follower of a philanderer to take.”
“…Zeus may have been my patron, but I do not share in his madness!”
The perverse pursuits of Zeus were known to everyone, both in heaven and the world below. Zald was one of the few men of good conscience in the god’s familia, and it was panic—mainly for his own safety—that drove him to cover his former fellow’s transgressions. Even without words, the queen’s ice-cold silence spoke volumes, and her feelings toward the uncouth ruffian who had bedded her younger sister could not have been clearer.
After thinking about it for half a second, Alfia raised her hand for a chop, causing Zald to brace both his arms. “No, Alfia! Please!” he yelled.
Her wrath surpassed that of all the world’s protective aunts and uncles combined. Erebus gave a soft chuckle.
“I can just imagine what things were like between your two familias,” he said. “So, where is that child now? With Hera?”
“…No,” replied Alfia, after briefly taking out her anger on Zald. “My sister entrusted him to Zeus. I was told they are living a peaceful life in the mountains.”
“Hmm. I see what Zald is asking now,” said Erebus. “This child is your only surviving relative—and a memento of your sister, at that. And you sure you don’t want to see him? Is your sister the only one you cared about?”
“…I did not interfere with her decision,” Alfia admitted, after a short pause. “I raised no objection when my dying sister chose to leave him with Zeus.”
Whatever emotions she felt, she didn’t speak of them. She stated only facts.
“I chose to prolong my own life instead of caring for my nephew… I don’t deserve to see him.”
Her final words sounded more like a confession. As Alfia stood still in the light of the setting sun, Zald opened his mouth to speak.
“Alfia,” he said. “I won’t claim that blood ties are all-important. And I won’t say that you have the right to call yourself his family. But if any small part of you feels for the boy, then…”
“It doesn’t, Zald. Forget what I said.”
The ashen hair swept her shoulders as Alfia shook her head, denying Zald’s words. A smile formed on her lips.
“Whether I have the right is irrelevant.”
With that, she rendered her tale meaningless.
“Besides, I don’t think I could handle being called Auntie,” she said.
Zald gave her an extremely odd look, like his eyes were bulging out of his sockets. Erebus was much the same. Then the two of them snorted loudly before bursting into howling laughter.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Well, that explains it! I can’t blame you for that!” roared Zald.
“Agreed,” said Erebus, trying to choke back his giggles. “We have no right to comment on such a delicate topic for women.”
That peaceful, pointless noise filled the chapel. After he had finally had enough, Erebus straightened his back, cleared his throat, and spoke.
“Alfia,” he said. “I wish to ask you something. Your twin sister must have been likewise beautiful, but was she also as difficult, neurotic, and violent as you?”
“My sister was weaker in every way. She couldn’t even go for a walk by herself.”
The witch closed her eyes, casting her mind back to the past.