#kencyrath

That was great, because it freed Kirien's attention for groping around for a weapon, preferably without topping the tire shelf of snacks and shampoos on top of all of them. She was shrieking, too—three days was not enough to adapt to living in an urban fantasy adventure. Subjects of investigative journalism were supposed to just evade your calls, not send hellspawn after you!

That conditioner was in a metal bottle! Kirien grabbed it and brought it down on the head of the imp on her leg. The cheap aluminum bottle crumpled, but so did the imp's skull.

Duck! Kindrie shouted again, and Kirien didn't think—she just rolled over, covered the back of her head with one arm, and pulled the drugstore display rack down on top of her back.

The avalanche of haircare products and bags of chips finished crashing down on her, followed immediately by the dull points of the rack itself. But a lucky edge must've clipped the airborne imp, sending it careening over her again like a Doppler siren.

The 7-11 clerk was also shouting, now, and running out from behind the counter. That was bad, because it meant they were the biggest and loudest moving target when the next monster crashed through the front doors—literally crashed, too fast for the auto-open. The glass panes and metal bars didn't stand a chance against the hulking, snarling, black thing that wasn't a dog, wasn't really anything else, and drooled fire with a slavering hunger.

It actually came through backwards, knocked over several more racks of clattering goods and hit the ground with a crack that would've broken bones, if hellhounds had bones. In an instant, it was on its feet with its burning jaws in the screaming clerk's midriff.

Hellhounds can be distracted, but they don't stop until they've gotten their target or been utterly destroyed, Kindrie said urgently.

"I know, I know," Kirien muttered, patting herself frantically for her phone. It had the map of the sewers she'd downloaded yesterday. They'd trapped that last hellhound—this hellhound again, presumably, because they hadn't actually destroyed it—in a sewage tank—

A second hellhound ran into the shop and sank its fangs into the first hellhound's shoulder. This one's eyes were a little more gold than yellow; otherwise they were identical, as they turned on each other in a snarling, savage ball of biting shadow-stuff.

Kirien had no idea what was going on now, even more than usual. But a person was dying of a gaping gut wound and she could channel healing magic. So she wiggled her way out from under her turtle shell of a display rack and crawled through scattered 7-11 goods to the clerk, narrowly dodging around the spinning coil of battling hellhounds.

The clerk was gasping and weeping, silent with shock, hands fluttering weakly over their burnt and savaged abdomen.

"Sorry," said Kirien, and did her best to drag them back to the shelter of the counter. "You break into one corporate office, and find a secret room with an elaborate arcane sigil on the floor, and—"

She was babbling, because the alternative was looking at the literally visible intestines. Even Kirien's curiosity had limits.

It's going to be okay, Kindrie promised. We have strength enough for this. Kirien could feel his uncertainty with the whole situation, mirroring hers, but for the task at hand there was only confidence, approval, and gratitude. Her hands started to glow white, and she could feel wings unfurling in her soul like a gentle hug around her shoulders, and a pianist cracking knuckles before a difficult piece. Just lay your hands on the edge of the wound, and—

"And what have we here?"

A low, throaty voice purred in Kirien's ear. She whirled with another shriek, open hand turning into a frantic fist.

The woman behind her caught her wrist in an unworried grasp. Her hand wrapped entirely around Kirien's thin wrist, trapping it in an iron cage tipped with black claws. She was broad-shouldered, tall even when crouching, with fire-red hair and eyes as solidly pitch-black as her claws.

I know you said it'd draw on my life force, but actual real divine smiting would be GREAT right now! Kirien thought desperately at her angel, facing her first real, actual had-to-be demon.

Kindrie did the weird little mental shoulder-tap that meant he'd like to take control of her body, and Kirien did the weird little mental slide-aside that let him—though she noticed in the last split second that instead of scared or battle-ready, the entity she'd semi-released from a giant magical circle in Rawneth Randir's secret back office was suddenly overwhelmingly relieved.

Kindrie shouted, a wordless rathorn cry of grief beyond endurance. He turned away and strode to where Kirien stood, not far behind them (or maybe distance hadn't mattered in…about as long as time hadn’t mattered).

He took her in his arms and kissed her fiercely, then pressed their foreheads gently together. The serpent cloak on his shoulders wrapped around them both.

Jame looked away to give them their privacy.

The final battlefield was full of friends and loved ones, kith and kin, more alive than she would have expected. Timmon and Gorbel were leaning heavily on one another, as were Trishien and Dianthe of Danior, all surrounded by Kendar of a melange of houses. Randiroc’s jewel-jaws were feasting on his corpse, which was fair. A few steps away, Death’s-head had started eating the Dark Judge’s corpse, which would probably give him indigestion. Before Ashe had finally gone still with the rest of the haunts, she’d sat back to back with Harn, who was gritting his teeth over a mangled forearm while Sheth, kneeling beside them, tore and tied his black coat into a hasty tourniquet.

The Kencyr had gathered closest to their lords and lady, but they were far from alone on the field. Gran Cyd bent a bloody-speared Chingetai into a passionate kiss and showed no sign of stopping. Wolvers began to howl, a rippling harmony of triumph tinged with mourning. An assortment of Tai-tastigonian gods, Bashti ancestors and other deities still ran amok, mopping up shadows with spears, fire, frying pans and odder weapons, egged on by Old Man Tishoo soaring above. Through the howling chorus, Jame heard a distinct quonk! Further yet, Arribek sen Tenzi was already stalking around, rallying his hillmen for whatever came next.

He wasn’t the only one. Countless people looked back at Jame and in their eyes she could see that one word from her, the slightest nod, and despite their wounds, exhaustion, and dawning sense of relief, they would stand and follow unflinchingly into the darkness. Brier was already getting to her feet, with blood coating her side and a mulish set to her chin. Yce was glaring past Jame, past Tori, straight into the heart of Perimal Darkling, teeth bared and legs coiled to pounce on the enemy that still hadn’t fully vacated her territory.

Kindrie let go of Kirien at last, and she of him. As he walked back to his cousins, the serpentine Cloak pressed closer and closer to his skin until it sank in completely, leaving only a ghost of snakes’ heads at his shoulders. As it faded, Kindrie shone brighter and brighter, with a white light so pure that it burned Jame’s eyes.

She turned away, and dropped the ivory Knife from her right hand. It disappeared into the shadows curling around her feet and never landed; in its place her claws slid out, longer and sharper and more natural-feeling than ever before. Each would be deadly with only a scratch. 

As usual, Torisen was the last to join them. He hasn’t reacted at all to Jame’s words; his head was bowed over the Book still open in his hands, his shoulders hunched.

With a deep breath, he straightened. The Book flared and fell into ashes in his hands. The fire licked down the bonds that tied the Knorth to their lord, and the Kencyrath to their Highlord, and set them all loose before any could be drawn into the Darkness before the three of them. Pure Creation remained, unbound, and the Kenthiar on his neck blazed as brightly silver as his open eyes.

Jame snapped her few bonds with a flick of her wrist, as easy as breathing for Destruction incarnate. With her other hand, she turned her claws carefully away one last time as she took her brother’s scarred hand, and leaned her shoulder against his. Her odd, black-purple glow was dark against his silver, though still bright against the Darkness.

On her other side, Preservation gripped the loose sleeve of her d’hen, just in case the road was rough.

And so the three faces of the Kencyr god, Torrigien, Regonereth and Argentiel, walked out of Rathilien and into the Darkness beyond worlds, beyond time.

Sprawling politics:

The Unbroken* (drafted soldier impresses daughter of the empress, they try to stop a war, full of double-crossing schemes and gallant ladies, cw colonialism, M for violence, sex, and extremely real colonialism)

The Captive Prince* (dethroned prince is sold into slavery under his mortal enemy, definitional enemies-to-lovers content, cw sexual assault, E for a very sexually relaxed culture in a bad way)

A Taste of Gold and Iron* (unambitious prince gets tangled up in a currency fraud scheme and gets a shiny new bodyguard, E for a very sexually relaxed culture in a good way)

October Daye series (starts out classic urban fantasy, rapidly becomes Blood Magic and Politics The Series, for those committed to a long series, T for violence)

Pulp fantasy adventure vibes:

Hero and the Crown/The Blue Sword* (classic sword and sorcery fantasy, for DnD lovers and people who read Horse Girl Books as kids, General Audiences)

Silver Under Nightfall* (vampire couple teams up with vampire hunter to cure a magical plague, the polyamorous murder romance you need in your life, cw coercive assault and body horror, E for gore and numerous threesomes)

Heaven Official’s Blessing***** (translated Chinese novel, very old fallen god returns to Heaven and Does His Best, for those committed to a LONG book, currently on volume 8, T for violence)

Witch King (body hopping demon tries to solve his own murder with his found family in tow, perfect standalone book, T for violence)

Spicy magic systems:

The City We Became/The World We Made (sentient cities and extra dimensional invaders, for everyone who read a lot of Avengers In NYC fic back in 2012, cw racism and survival sex work, M for sex)

Gideon the Ninth/The Locked Tomb series***** (everyone knows about this series, it’s the one with the lesbian space necromancers, cw for just the craziest flavors of abuse, M for violence and cannibalism I guess, also fits the below category)

The Gilded Ones* (what if all the misogynists who said women were demons were absolutely correct, and it was fucking rad, cw for SO much sexism and also religious indoctrination, T for violence)

A Soul to Keep* et al (okay oKAY LOOK THIS IS MONSTERFUCKER CONTENT BUT I RECOMMEND IT, local cursed woman gets forced to marry a demon, they argue a lot and the sex scenes are REAL bizarre, cw kidnapping and the second book deals with a character coming out of a severe depression, HARD E for monsterfucking, obviously)

Interpersonal relationships that are just SO fucked up:

A Dowry of Blood (a letter from Dracula’s first wife to the man himself, cw domestic abuse, M for adult themes and sex)

Remnants of Filth/Yuwu* (translated Chinese novel, loyal general becomes the jailer for his traitorous ex-lover, cw slavery and discussion of sexual assault, E for sex)

The Salt Grows Heavy (homicidal Little Mermaid and plague doctor wander through an apocalypse together, actually read everything Cassandra Khaw has ever touched, the absolute pinnacle of horror, cw all her stuff for really creative violence and body horror, M for violence and gore)