Night settled in over the smoldering battlefield surrounding battered walls and the massive domed temple.
It did not fall gently over Sanctuary the way it once had, with quiet stars and cooling winds. It pressed down instead, heavy, essence from all the slain demons and angels lingering in the air. The sky above the ruined temple had no moon, only a low ceiling of ash-thick clouds that swallowed starlight whole. What illumination remained came from the veins of heat still threading through the ground, faintly glowing like embers beneath scar tissue.
Inside the temple chamber, Mike sat on the edge of an altar, elbows resting on his knees. The stone beneath him was still pristine white, visions of the destroyed temple from his trial still flashed in his mind when he visited the massive temple.
Abbadon stood several paces away, hands clasped behind his back, studying the ancient carvings that lined the inner walls of the room they were in. Depicting gods crowned in flame, mortals kneeling, beasts bound by chains of light. The destroyer regarded them with open amusement.
"They always carve themselves taller," Abbadon said idly. "As if height equates to permanence."
Mike huffed a quiet laugh. "Humans still do that now. Just with better propaganda."
Abbadon glanced over his shoulder. "You sound experienced."
"Before my trial I worked a corporate job around people who were obsessed with perception and perceived power. Since then I have been hunted, studied, judged, and erased on paper by beings who never once stepped onto the battlefield themselves." Mike leaned back slightly, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "Experience comes fast when shitty gods and angels decide you're inconvenient."
Abbadon turned fully now, golden eyes reflecting the molten seams beneath the floor. "They will not tolerate you."
"Good fuck them," Mike replied without hesitation. "I'm past tolerating them."
The air hummed between them. Something aligned, like two blades resting parallel instead of crossed.
Abbadon studied Mike more closely now, not as an enemy, not even as an ally, but as a phenomenon. "Do you know why the gods fear you more than me?"
Mike didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes, feeling Bahamut beneath his thoughts, ancient and attentive.
"Because I devour what they hide behind?" he guessed.
Abbadon smiled. "Because you invalidate the system and hierarchy they've fought so hard to build."
Mike opened one eye. "Explain."
"The gods survive by layers," Abbadon said calmly. "Chosen. Angels. Laws. Veils. They never place themselves in the path of consequence. You do not care for layers. You remove them."
Mike chuckled softly. "I destroyed their toys and puppets."
"Yes," Abbadon agreed. "And then you devour the gift inside."
Bahamut stirred, approval vibrating through Mike's bones.
For a moment, neither spoke. The temple groaned softly as the cooler night air settled on the massive stone temple.
Then Mike frowned.
"You feel that?" he asked.
Abbadon's posture shifted instantly. "Yes."
It was distant, barely perceptible to anything less than what they were now. A pressure getting closer to them.
"Not gods," Mike muttered.
"No," Abbadon said. "This walks between realms."
Outside Sanctuary's outer perimeter, the first trees parted but they did not fall. They twisted. Branches bent backward, snapping and reforming, bark splitting open to reveal pale, wet muscle beneath. The forest at the edge of the clearing outside of sacristy shuddered as shapes peeled themselves out of shadow and root and bone.
Skinwalkers.
They moved in silence, dozens at first, then hundreds, forms half-remembered from humanity's nightmares. Some wore the stretched hides of animals, others the stolen faces of men and women long dead. Eyes glowed dimly with hunger sharpened by years of feasting on those lost in the woods.
They marched.
Each step was measured. A procession toward something they intended to destroy.
Toward the temple of the gods.
At the same time, a ripple of heat tore open the air several miles from Sanctuary.
Crimson fire folded inward, precise and controlled, and Hamza stepped through.
The djinn took in the scene in a single breath, the warped land, the molten scars, the distant silhouettes moving through the trees.
His jaw tightened.
"So it begins," he murmured.
Essence flared around him, crimson and disciplined, as he started forward without hesitation.
Inside the temple, Mike straightened.
"They're coming," he said.
Abbadon nodded. "Not for me."
"No," Mike agreed. His smile was thin. "For me."
The impeding battle and tense air tasted sweet.
Footsteps echoed at the temple entrance.
Mike turned just as Hamza entered the chamber, a deep red cloak snapping behind him, eyes already locked onto Mike with a mix of relief and fury that hadn't dulled since the last time they'd stood face to face.
"You look terrible," Hamza said flatly.
Mike grinned. "You should see the other guys."
Hamza's gaze flicked to Abbadon, essence spiking sharply. "And you brought a catastrophe with you."
Abbadon inclined his head politely. "I prefer calamity.'"
Hamza ignored him and stepped closer to Mike. "Kelsey sent me."
The grin vanished.
Mike went very still.
"What? Did something happen" he asked as his body tensed.
"She's alive," Hamza continued, voice hard but not unkind. "She's angry. She's scared. And she asked me to talk sense into you because she knows I won't lie to her."
Mike swallowed.
"Talk sense into me? Why is she angry?," he asked quietly as the thoughts of Kelsey swirled in his mind.
Outside, the first howl rose from the forest, long, warping, layered with voices that did not belong together.
Abbadon turned toward the sound, pleased. "Your wife has excellent timing."
Hamza shot him a look. "This isn't a game."
"No," Abbadon agreed. "It's the vile creatures that steal the visage of others."
Mike exhaled slowly, then met Hamza's eyes. "Did she ask you to stop me?"
Hamza shook his head once. "She asked me to remind you who you still are."
Mike laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it. "That's getting harder."
Hamza stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Then listen carefully. The skinwalkers are moving under ancient sanction. They will attempt to destroy this place. If they succeed, the gods lose access to one of their oldest anchors."
Abbadon's eyes gleamed. "Which forces the gods to act."
"Which accelerates everything," Hamza corrected. "Including retaliation and attacking you Mike."
Mike rolled his shoulders, wings flickering into partial existence behind him. "Good."
Hamza grabbed his arm.
"Michael," he said sharply. "This isn't about winning. It's about survival. Do you not think they'll go after Kelsey and your parents like Hecate did Hunter?"
Mike looked down at the hand gripping him, then back up. His gaze burned with fury.
"Is that not why they are with your king?," he said sharply with a growl. "Keep your promise and protect them. I'm done running. I will eradicate the gods just like we agreed after Hunters death."
Hamza held his gaze for a long moment, then released him.
"Then I'll stand here with you and honor that agreement. I also have to make sure you don't forget what you're fighting for," he said.
Outside, the army reached the edge of Sanctuary.
Stone wards flared as skinwalkers stepped into open ground, their forms shifting with each stride, wolf to man to something that should not exist. They raised no weapons.
They raised their heads.
And howled toward the temple of the gods.
Inside, Abbadon cracked his neck, smiling wide.
"I had grown bored with conversation," he said. "We should thank them for coming."
Mike's wings unfurled fully now, shadows stretching across the chamber walls.
"Yes let's go greet them," he said softly. "If the gods are watching—"
He looked toward the ceiling, toward the veil, toward the unseen eyes glaring just beyond reach.
"—they're about to learn what happens when there is no one to stop me from killing all of them. I will come for all of you next."
Abbadon turned to the council members rushing out of their chamber. "Do any of you pretenders want to try your hands at battle before we cleanse the new arrivals?"
Outside, the skinwalkers crossed the final boundary.
And the night grew tense as the battle was about to begin.