#randiel

Rayla couldn’t help but laugh to herself, surrounded by darkness. It finally dawned on her, she was in actual hel in a cave of creatures nobody had heard about, drunk and poisoned and gods only knew what else. If Jvar or Akal or anyone, really, had hoped to gain anything from this, it was going to be a clusterfuck. 

She faintly heard the sound of someone stomping through the forest, but really only picked it up as the etharii bristled.

We will keep you safe

Something was pressed to her mouth, a palm cupped to pour a dark liquid into her mouth.

Drink

Against her better judgment, Rayla swallowed. It was thick, with an oily, metallic taste Rayla knew well. It was blood. Not just any blood though. This was the poison that ran in her veins. Maybe it ran in the etharii as well.

Something brushed over her head, the limb ruffling her hair in some mimicked form of human affection. Maybe it’d be nice to fall asleep in their embrace. No. Rayla shook off any thought of that, willing the softness away. This wasn’t a time to let her guard down.

“No.” she pushed herself off the ground, a sliver of moonlight bouncing off the gold on her hands. They still burned, but she did her best to ignore it. Someone else would probably find a way to make it poetic, broken made beautiful, or something like that. Maybe that was Mor’s goal, to paint her up with every one of the goddesses' morbid fascinations until she was nothing but a macabre canvas. Just a weapon. Just a tool.

Maybe this wasn’t such a new game after all. 

An etharii reached out, grabbing her hand and attempting to drag her back to safety she didn’t want. Rayla pulled out of its grasp and stumbled out of the cave, into the fresh air.

Shogan was on her in a second, lifting her off the ground, enveloping her in their muscled arms. “By Mor….” they whispered. 

Rayla looked up at them, eyelids weighed down by tiredness. Compared to them. She was tiny and frail with bones that seemed like they could snap at any moment. They ran their thumb over her lips, probably noticing the poison. Rayla didn’t fight it, not when nobody had ever touched her like this, like she was something to be protected instead of sanded down and roughened up.

Rayla focused more on Randi’s cackling form behind them as she began to sway. It was too much. No. It wasn’t. She could take it, she had to take it.

Without another word, Rayla passed out.

She woke up on the cold stone of the bridge, once again looking up at Shogan. Always looking up at Shogan. The dim light reflected off the metal part of their face quite nicely, making them look like they were glowing. 

“Get up, darling.”

Rayla didn’t think she could stand, yet she still tried. Everything swayed around her, the wind in the trees seeming to blow right through her bones. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, skull slamming into cold stone.

Shogan froze on their hands and knees on the floor, chest heaving. Fuck. They needed a moment, several actually, to process what had just happened.

Rayla had almost killed them. And the whole fucking court had gone silent to watch. Shogan caught their breath, put their pants back on because they were a civilized daemon and chasing naked after someone naked was not even the least bit classy.

They forced out a hearty laugh, smiling wide even as their cheeks got hot. “That was fun, darling!” Shogan called out after her. “You almost got me! Almost!”

They crashed back onto the barstool and sighed. Rayla was...something else. She had snarled and glared but had played their game. It was amazing. Finally, after all these centuries, there was someone who challenged them without a hint of fear or obedience. Someone who played with them on her own rules.

“You just got your ass handed to you.” Al Gluz popped back up behind the bar, fixing herself another drink. Shogan smiled lazily, still thinking about Rayla. How she sounded and tasted, how her skin felt under their fingers, how she wore her scars like a shining suit of armor. Her lips too, she should've kissed them before the severed head. Oh, the sweet taste of a razorblade dipped in honey would be divine.

Rayla’s eyes were sharp as daggers, the color of human blood and just as beautiful. Shogan realized, ever so slowly as a chill ran through them, just how badly those eyes called. They’d give anything for the chance to hold that girl another time, fight with her, hurt her, love her, fuck her, whatever, as long as they were with her. Rayla was right, Mor herself couldn’t save Shogan from whatever she planned to do with them, because it was impossible to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.

“I did,” They mused. Pick a god and pray, Shogan. The way she had said their name did something to Shogan, they weren’t sure what. None of them will save you, not from me.

Without a second thought, Shogan grabbed Rayla’s dress from its puddle on the floor and ran after her. She was still bleeding, they’d dug into her sides with everything they had, plus the stab wound. There was no telling how much pain she was in, and that was before…

Shogan cursed to themself as they turned the corner and spotted Rayla. Everything she had drank had been poisoned or drugged to kill her. If she survived the night, amazing. If not, her corpse would be lovely too.

“Rayla!” They called out and grabbed her wrist.

Their touch felt like lighting on her bare wrist, and Rayla spun around in a single motion, pressed her knife to their throat.

“Don’t get familiar.” She snapped, just a bit of rage in her cool tone. She couldn’t take another second of it, not right now with the taste of a corpse fresh on her tongue. Being stripped completely bare in front of Shogan didn’t help, even if she did her best to intimidate as she locked eyes with them. “The next time you touch me without permission, you’ll lose a hand. Maybe some more body parts.”

Rayla waited for a moment, pressing the tip of her blade in enough for a thin trickle of blood to roll down their neck. Shogan feared death, and now they were at the mercy of their blade. She made them bleed, she could make them die, and Rayla made sure to give just the smallest hint of a wicked smile to let them know she meant it. For now their infatuation could be useful and she could tolerate a bit of violation, but if Shogan crossed the line Rayla promised herself she’d kill them without hesitation and feel nothing. Hopefully they knew that.

Slowly, Shogan nodded, and she let them step away. She noticed them holding up her dress. “You forgot this.” They smiled. “And you’re bleeding, darling, I could patch you up.”

“I’m fine.” She replied quickly. It was starting to hurt,but it was just blood. Just pain. Rayla would take it, that’s what she was built for.

She got dressed without saying anything, eyes focused on a stained glass window overlooking the lands of Hel. Through one of the clear panels, Rayla could make out the dim blue glow of that trench filled with helfire that seemed to crack through all of Hel. She saw the direction she had come and the footbridge that led towards the sea, but what caught her attention was the sprawling forest looming in the distance. Shogan had called it the evil forest, if she remembered correctly. It was orderless, standardless it seemed. What was bad enough to make even Shogan think twice? 

"That's bullshit, darling. I'm not without my manners, I insist." Their voice held its usual blasé amusement, but she swore they seemed somewhat concerned. 

"You feel bad about hurting me?" Rayla clocked her head. From what she had seen, Shogan didn't seem the type for remorse. 

Shogan pursed their lips. "Hurting you felt...well, it's been awhile since I had someone I didn't break. I want you to heal and not be in pain, if that's what you mean, but I'd absolutely hurt you again if you let it slide." Their eyes twinkled, and Rayla let a small smile creep over her face. It was practiced and calculated. Shogan was without a doubt deranged with a horrifying idea of love and violence. But they were fascinated with Rayla, and she could use that. Another day, another sadist wrapped around her finger. “Would you let it slide?”

Rayla chuckled a little, the sound light and airy. Shogan was her pawn now, her tool, her knife pointed at Mor’s back. “You’ll have to find out,” she said, the words cold and no nonsense.

Shogan turned their back for a moment, and Rayla took the opportunity to sit on the windowsill and look out to the land surrounding her. The forest seemed to call, as if the trees knew too that she was a foreigner, someone who did not belong. In one fluid motion, Rayla kicked through the panel, smashing an artistic depiction of Mor in all her holy glory into fragments of glass. Just as Shogan’s head turned, Rayla pushed herself out, unfurling her wings behind her before she could think twice.

Fuck.

For a moment she fell, plummeting downwards as wind slapped her in the face, pounding on her like a torrent of rain. But then she stretched her wings out as far as the aching muscles would go and the air seemed to catch her. She glided up, smiling a little. It was like walking on clouds, free and unbound by anything.

For a moment, the weight of her shoulders disappeared.

She flew in a jagged line towards the forest, each flap of her wings exhausting her further as Rayla did her best to go in a straight line. But gods below, her head pounded, her body hurt, she was sure bruises were forming on her throat form where Shogan had grabbed her, and-

Rayla barely had time to put her arms out in front of her on instinct as she slammed headfirst into a pillar above the bridge. There was a sharp crack and pain stabbed up through her wrist as she tumbled, a flailing, undignified spiral of limbs and wings. 

Rayla ragdolled when she hit the bridge, closing her eyes and giving up on moving for a moment. The impact might as well have moved all her internal organs around for how she felt now- like shit. 

Fuck. She wasn’t sure how long she laid there in an aching sort of purgatory as her body decided whether or not to be conscious. She opened her eyes and lifted her head a bit, spitting blood onto the worn stone.

Something poked her shoulder and she turned, fury coursing through her blood with the same determined frustration as it had every time Katara knocked her down. Even time jvar hurt her. 

She was getting sick and tired of falling down. But that’s what she was built for after all, to fall and get hurt and endure all the pain the world would give her and still. Hit. back.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck Shogan.” It was Randiel staring down at her, his voice a nasally squawk. He poked her with the stick again, her eyes finally focusing. “That was enough of a mess for one day.”

Rayla brushed him off for a moment, pressing her hands on the ground as she peeled herself up off it. She bit back a scream as blinding pain shot through her wrist again. Rayla stared at her arm, not having it in her to be alarmed at the splinter of white bone sticking out of her skin. In fact, she didn’t have enough energy left to do much else then get to a slightly more dignified sitting position and poke the bone back in place with her other hand.

At that, she screamed, the agony hot and sharp.

“Don't do that.” Randi looked down at her still, poking her forehead with his beak. “You didn’t answer my question. Or my riddles. I’m not asking for a lot. Just one question and three riddles.” Randi was harder to read, his eyes black voids and a beak instead of a mouth. His body language didn’t make much sense to her either. He swayed in the wind, hopping on the balls of his feet like a bird resting on a precarious tree branch.

Once again, Rayla brushed him off, putting all of her focus into not passing out. “What’s in the forest?”

He poked at her forehead again with the point of his beak, right between the eyes. “If through the bridge you want to be, you must answer me my riddles three.”

Rayla groaned and stood up, hissing with pain. “I don’t have time for this.” She stumbled towards the forest with a mind in tunnel vision, the place called to her and she had to know why. 

Randi stopped her, stepping in front in a speedy blur and planting himself solidly in her path. He had a walking stick, maybe it was a staff, she wasn't sure. It seemed to be made of solid black wood and steel, nothing special. But still was hel, it couldn’t be that simple.

“Riddles. When the moonlight dances on the sea, who will end up on their knees? That’s up to ye.” They chirped. “Who, Rayla? Who?”

Rayla’s head was spinning, she could barely think enough to walk, let alone solve his stupid fucking riddles. And where was the Akkator? She almost missed his grating voice in her head.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m going through.” She tried to power through him, but he held out his stick and pushed her back.

 “Riddles, Rayla. I am the guardian of the bridge. This is my domain, yes? 

She took another step, but he pushed her back all the same, a flurry of black and blue feathers that seemed to know how she’d move before she did.

“Why did Shogan call this place evil?” She said, stumbling over her words. Alcohol, drugs, poison, all of it was getting to her.

Randi just laughed. “A question for a question? Clever. Shogan follows Mor blindly, they all do. Her court, her kingdom, her world. This forest does not. The world is black and white, yes? Sinners and saints.” Rayla was tiring of his games, even as she tried to think over his words. Maybe he was the village idiot, maybe he was the enemy of her enemy. “When a sinner kisses a sinner, she tastes death. When a saint kisses a saint, he tastes life. When a sinner kisses a saint, what does she taste?”

Rayla blinked, the metaphor hitting too close to what Shogan had her do. Randi’s eyes were pits too, but at least when she looked into them, all she sall was a black void, no sign anything was ever in the eye socket. Similar, but not the same.

“ A sinner tastes death?” she mumbled. “A saint tastes life? This is...look, I don’t have time for this.”

Randi tilted his head. “It’s a riddle, yes? Surely the girl who prides herself on her mind can handle a simple riddle. Indulge me, I’ve gotten lonely. For fourteen years I’ve been so lonely, Rayla. Just answer my riddles.” Even though he  didn’t have lips, Rayla swore he pouted.

“Well I’m not. I’m getting into that forest like it or not. Move or I will take my claws, jam them right into your eye, and out the back of your skull, and then I’m going to fling you over the side of the bridge into the hellfire. And I will feel no remorse.”

She said it with such icy conviction Rayla was sure he’d step aside, but Randi just chuckled. “When poison bubbles on your lips, from what desire do you sip?”

Rayla scowled. “I. Don’t. Know.” From her throbbing wrist, Rayla willed a thin tendril of blood to snake out from her wrist and coil around the nearest overhanging tree branch. She used it to lift herself off the ground, flinging over Randi and landing in a crouch behind him on the forest floor. He turned, but did not pursue. Randiel clapped. 

"Bravo, bravo, you've outsmarted me, I know when I am bested." He laughed. "I wish you the best of luck, Rayla Asarova, daughter of Evali Asarova the fire titan if the west and great Khan of the Dothras clan, the reaper, the Godslayer, the lady of blessed murder. I wish you luck to all of your many faces." He squawked. 

Rayla's blood ran cold. He knew her. He knew her past, he knew what had just happened without witnessing it. 

Somehow, he had information. 

He had power. 

Rayla hoped her face didn’t betray the pure shock, but it was futile. She tried to collect herself. “How?”

He chirped, laughing as he rested weight on his stick. “You aren’t the only one who knows things. But I like you, want some advice?” He asked. “Shogan doesn’t lie, except to themself. It doesn’t matter what they told you while they went down on you in public, Mor will always be first to them. You’re just the novel, special thing, yes? They’ll kiss Mor’s ass anytime, they’ll betray you for her, they have her back over yours. How you proceed is up to ye, but how did that severed head taste?”

Rayla blinked, taken aback. Somehow he knew, somehow he had seen it all. That had to be a power of his. She tilted her head, biting her tongue. She’d held her words back for years, she could wait another minute or two so she wouldn't sputter out words like she’d lost her mind.

“You mean they don’t love me?” She asked, her face cold. 

Randi nodded. “They want you, but you won’t survive them. When they have to choose, they will choose Mor. They will abandon you, they will leave you begging and crying and they’ll say they love you and they have no choice but that’s the lie they tell themself so they can sleep at night. With or without you in their bed. “

Rayla nodded with them, a lot of pieces falling into place. There was an unmistakable bite to Randi’s words, he had lived this. Was he a lover, a friend, a one night stand? It didn’t matter. He was bitter. He was an enemy of Mor and Shogan alike, someone she could keep in her back pocket to stand against them.

“If they do that, I won’t cry.” she turned around. “I’ll hurt them worse. But they won’t do that. Because I don’t love them. They have Mor’s back. I’ll make them stick a knife in it.”

Rayla walked off into the forest, the sound of Randi’s laughter ringing in her ears. “That’ll be our little secret!” They squawked out.

The path ahead was dark. Rayla stumbled through the forest brush, dim, reddish light wafting down from gods knew what in the sky. Maybe something was getting to her head, but Rayla swore she heard something in the underbrush, whispering and scampering around as it watched her every move. 

And then there were the eyes. At first, it just seemed to be two softly glowing violet orbs that blocked her path, floating in the air. Then she squinted, and realized they belonged to the outline of a creature that had no outline to speak of. The shape was frothy, jagged and ever shifting like mist. She’d met one of these creatures before in the catacombs she had been forced to mine in. Rayla watched it now just as she had then. The ones in the catacombs had jumped and climbed, agile and feline like a panther.

The one that sat before her now hadn’t taken a shape. It's just there. Watching. Staring. Its eyes did not blink.

We are the Etharii.

The voice came from all sides, echoing inside her head as it bounced off the walls of her skull.

“What?” she mumbled. “What?” The ones in the cavern hadn’t spoken, she didn’t know they could. They had moved with purpose, she’d picked up a few tricks about how to creep around in the dark as if she were a ghostly wraith in a land of solid things, but they had never spoken.

We are the Etharii.

It was louder this time, and part of Rayla, however begrudging, wanted the Akkator’s voice back in her head. It was better than whatever this thing was, rattling around in her bones like an infection.

We can hear him. He screams. For you cannot.

Her head was spinning, eyes glazing over as she almost fell down. Her body was crashing, fuck. 

The creature, the etharii as it had called itself, moved towards her. More accurately, it walked to her and stepped circles around her, eyes never blinking. Maybe the violet eyes weren’t actually eyes, the windows to an ever shifting soul.

You cannot hear him. But do you hear the rest? Do you hear the screams? Do you hear the fallen?

For the first time in a long time, Rayla had no idea what was going on as the etharii crept closer. Closer. Closer still.

Do you hear the screams, Rayla Asarova? Do you hear the wails and shrieks and moans? 

“Of...of the dead?” She pondered aloud. Normally she could always hear the faint voices, even though her ears had learned to dampen them. But now they were quiet. She had heard the voice of the severed head. But no more. Why not? “Or...the Akkator?” He had disappeared.

He is gone from you. He does not belong in her kingdom.

It had to be some drug she'd been slipped or something she had drank. The akkator couldn't just vanish, could he?

Rayla laid down on the forest floor, the dirt cool and surprisingly soothing. The air wasn’t locked underground, it blew in the wind, like it had in...Cressedia, all those years ago. The sky was pitch black here, choked out by trees that oddly, didn’t seem to blow in the wind at all. Were they here at all?

“Why? Why can’t I hear, why is he gone?” Rayla’s voice was like a faint moan on the wind, hoarse and barely there. Her heart didn’t beat, barely there. She was emancipated and cold, barely there.

But at least her scars were real. Rayla ran her hands over her bare arms, feeling every bit of scar tissue. It was all real, a reminder of what she had survived, of what Jvar had done to her. He’d pay for all of it.

There are no souls in the air here. We have devoured them. We are the etharii.

Devoured the souls of daemons like Mor had wished to do to her. They were hungry like Mor, probably made by her too.

“Go hungry then.” Rayla snapped back. The air tasted sweeter here, and for just a moment, she was calm, peaceful and content alone in the dark. The only way it could have been better was if Rhyan was with her, if he were here to enjoy the freedom. What had Jvar molded him into, how had he been tortured, had whatever dungeon Jvar kept him in stifled out every last bit of life?

Rayla didn’t have another moment to consider the answers before her silence was disrupted by the crunching of leaves and aggressive shouts.

“You just let her through!” She recognized the voice, it was Shogan, a twinge of panic replacing their velvety tone. “They’ll tear her up, eat her alive!”

The etharii moved closer, more of them slipping out from the shadows. They came in all shapes and sizes, some like mist, others many limbed with slimy tongues, and still others sleek and feline as they prowled in a circle around her, growling. All had the same glowing, violet eyes.

“Fuck..” Even trying to be quiet, Shogan was loud. Rayla turned her head, still on the ground, body too heavy for her to stand. Randiel was beside them, taloned hands buried somewhere  in the feathery cloak of wings that draped down his back or the flowing black of his clothes. His head was tilted, he bobbed along to the wind, swaying as the trees did not. Rayla wouldn’t have been surprised if he felt just as calmed by this place as her.

Shogan took another step closer, claws out. “Get up and run to us! Get out of here before the etharii kill you!” They growled, and she just had to laugh. 

They would do no such thing, even if they wanted to. The way the creatures circles around her–eyes and fangs bared at Shogan–seemed protective. As she had learned from the daemons, if something wanted to eat her, the fangs would be aimed at her. The etharii in the catacombs under Jvar’s prison had shown her many things, not just how to move silently and climb on crevices in the walls.They always operated as one. They would circle an area like vultures, all sleep together, all hunt a daemon together. 

Now they spoke as one, spoke to her. Maybe she was part of the pack to them now, something that they would protect and stay beside.

The daemon second shall not harm you. You will be cared for.

Rayla didn’t even have time to protest that she had Shogan under control, wrapped around her finger even, before she was scooped up, nothing more than a helpless ball carried off by a pack of etharii through the woods. They moved so fast that Shogan soon became nothing more than a shouting blur as they tried and failed to run after her, screaming. Screaming as if they were being killed, as if losing their new toy was agonizing.

Gods below, they were easy to manipulate, even as the etharii dropped her into a cave, Rayla couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Shogan wanted her that much.

Rayla looked up, and realized she was alone in a dark, surprisingly warm cave with nothing but shadowy creatures surrounding her.

Shogan walked along the worn path back to the palace, smiling to themself. The daemon courts were going to eat Rayla alive, and the poor girl didn’t even know what was to come. All gaunt and bony, she barely weighed anything in Shogan’s arms. If daemons were made to feel pity, Shogan certainly would for her by now, but all they were focused on was getting to bet on how long she’d last.

As Shogan approached a bridge stretching over the ravine near the palace, they noticed a friend standing there. More specifically, it was Randiel. Shogan sighed. Sometimes they regretted vouching for Randiel to be exiled instead of killed.

And by sometimes, they meant every time the two had to talk.

Randiel waved a feathered hand, gesturing them forward. “If through the bridge you want to be, you must answer me these riddles three,” Randiel’s nasally voice floated out from their black, leathery beak. “When the moonlight dances on the sea, who will end up on their knees? That’s up to ye.”

Shogun growled. “Shut the fuck up Randi, I don’t have time for this,” Rayla stirred in their arms. “Some of us have actual work to do.”

Randiel craned his neck, nudging at Rayla with his beak. “Ah, carting off a fresh corpse. The most delicious work. You wouldn’t mind if I had a taste, would you Shogan?” Shogan was tempted to scream at him to stop the odd, birdlike flitting around, but they bit their tongue. The wind would sooner make the mountain bow than anyone convincing Randi to not be Randi. “It gets so lonely out here and it’s been ages since I last fed.”

Rayla turned her head to look Randiel in the eyes. Even though she seemed so young, so breakable, there was an unsettling hardness to her features. Something about the way those crimson eyes seemed to be always watching reminded Shogan of being hunted. They were usually the predator, but sometimes they had to venture into the forests filled with creatures too dark for even the daemons. The forests Randi was supposed to be guarding. 

“Maybe you’d be less lonely if you were actually guarding the right fucking bridge,” Shogan spat out, laughing. “The terms of your exile gave you one job, and that was watching over the west bridge to the..evil forest. Does this look like the west bridge?” Shogun knew evil wasn’t the right word, but compared to the order Mor bestowed upon the daemons, the creatures who lurked in those forests were nothing but despicable savages.

Randiel tilted his head, a shiver ghosting down the waves of black feathers that covered him like a cloak. “Perhaps if this world were dictated by something other than the aesthetic whims of a tyrannical monster, we wouldn’t have an evil bridge. But alas, the meaning of the world evil...is up to ye.” He smiled. 

Shogan nearly slapped Randi across the face, but they settled for a small chuckle. “I remember why we banished you. Between you and Al Gluz it feels like herding etharii.”

Randi clicked his tongue, but stepped aside. "Just go." He chuckled and then muttered under his breath. "Bastard." 

"I heard that!" Shogan called as they walked on, their back still turned. 

The rest of the walk was silent, and Rayla kept her focus on the sky above her. It was tinted a striking red color, and silent strikes of lighting flickered across it every few seconds. They  farther they got along the road, the more the sky changed. Eventually, the angry scarlet faded entirely, leaving nothing but a cold, Grey-blue sheet dotted with starry specks in its wake. But after the long walk, it wasn't the sky that caught Rayla's attention. The palace was a huge structure, carved from shimmering black stone broken up by stained glass windows. The massive building was a maze of walls and spiraling towers that seemed to touch the sky. 

The towering double doors opened for Shogan, seemingly of their own accord. They carried her inside to what looked to be a throne room. A woman sat upon a throne decorated with gold and jewels. Her white hair was loose and flowing, and made for a sharp contrast with her golden eyes and skin that looked like a starry, night sky. She flashed a smile, a crown that seemed to be made of bone coated in Iron and gold balanced on her head.

"Shogan," she rolled their name on her tongue. "I see you brought me…Rayla,was it?" She flashed a smile. It was a wicked thing that showed off rows of perfectly white, straight teeth. Rayla shivered, but nodded, trying not to dwell on how Mor knew her name.

"Mor, correct?" She narrowed her eyes. She waited for the Akkator to comment, but he had gone mysteriously silent, as if he were hiding. 

The woman nodded, and stepped off the throne, walking over to Rayla and cupping her cheek. "You don't look good, my child. I want all of my subjects in nothing but their finest condition." 

Rayla felt a warm energy, float through her, bringing the strength back to her legs and neck. Shogan set her down and she was able to stand perfectly. Her lips parted in a soft o at the realization that it had taken the goddess hardly a thought to fix broken bones. Mor had healed her, and not in the way Akal did, which left searing pain in its wake. Better. 

"Shogan, why don't you get her ready to join the others? Tonight will be utterly divine. " 

Shogan dipped their head in deference and took Rayla by the arm. "Of course." They led her down winding hallways, stopping to open the door of a seemingly random room and lead her inside. The calm fluidity of their movement came off as practiced, as if this was a game they'd played many times. Rayla closed her eyes for a brief moment, listening for the voices of anyone who had died here. Sure enough, she picked out a few wailing voices that warned her of imminent doom. Of daemons who would smile then stab her in the back and eat her alive. Of poisoned cups and unimaginable horrors. 

Rayla opened her eyes when she heard the sound of flowing water. Shogan glared at her as they gestured to a rapidly filling tub. "You're covered in blood and you look like shit. Strip and get in." They smiled. "And while you're at it, why don't you tell me what brings you to Hel?"

She paused for a moment. She gained nothing out of disobeying. Rayla was certain they just wanted to watch her squirm. They probably took delight in seeing her suffer. As she undressed herself, she promised not to give them the satisfaction. Rayla could feel their eyes on her, tracing over every scar. 

Her face was cold as she dipped a foot in the water. She hissed in pain. It was Not hot enough to actually burn her skin, but enough for that small fact to be practically meaningless. Rayla grit her teeth as she slipped in, sitting down in the scalding water. It soaked into her muscles, making her skin throb. She tried to pull herself out of the water but Shogan put a hand on her shoulder, gently pressing her back in. 

Shogan smiled watching her with a dark look. "You take pain well." 

"Thanks." She choked out, rubbing soap over herself to scrub off blood and dirt. She wasn't prepared for Shogan to help her, and nearly jumped when she felt their hands on her back, tracing over the web of whipping scars. They poked the spot on her shoulder blade where Jvar had branded her. 

"What's this?" They asked, rubbing the scar. 

"Exactly what it looks like." She snapped, doing her best to keep a neutral expression. The less Shogan knew about Rayla and what upset her, the better. Even though her muscles were tense at the intrusion, she couldn't help but lean into their touch. Nobody had ever touched her other than to her hurt. This was different, even if she knew Shogan would maim her without hesitation and would likely try to in the near future. 

Rayla was grateful when they backed off and held up a towel, giving her an excuse to step out of the water. She dried herself off and began to get dressed, putting on her undergarments. But when she reached for a shirt, Shogan stopped her. 

They shook their head. "Mor wants you to look nice." They nudged her towards the vanity, holding up a corset. "I'm happy to oblige her." 

At first the fabric of the corset was soft on her skin as Shogan’s hands wrapped it around her waist. It was easy to get lost staring at her bare self in the mirror, trailing her eyes over every nasty scar that would never heal. There were so many Rayla had lost count a long time ago, every mark a reminder of what she had survived. Of the death warrant Jvar was unknowingly signing onto her flesh.

Shogan yanked on the strings of the corset, pulling it tight around her aching, probably broken ribs. Rayla steadied herself on the vanity table in front of her, waiting patiently to be laced up. A faint growl slipped out from her lips. She wasn’t here for fun and decadence. She was here to watch and wait and listen. 

And then bring them all down.

Another yank cut off Rayla’s breath and sent a stabbing pain shooting through her side. It was as if someone had torn her ribs apart and stabbed them back into her torso, impaling her with splintered bone. Mor had forgotten to heal what were probably shattered ribs.

The fabric of the corset cloaked her torso in a midnight veil held together by black boning. 

“Do you like it?” Shogan asked, noticing Rayla’s fascination with the mirror as they grabbed another garment. She followed their movements and stepped into a black dress made  from waves of sheer fabric. .

Rayla’s eyes darted to a thin, stiletto dagger resting on the vanity even as Shogan held up jewels to her neck. The blade was about six inches long with a razor sharp edge that looked to be carved from bone. It would be a good weapon to have in her hand when she needed some familiarity to steady her the most.

Just as Shogan clasped a necklace at her throat, Rayla stiffened at the weight of cold metal and shook her head. “Not that.” She had just gotten free of that wretched collar. She didn’t need anything else to take its place. Rayla reached forward, closing her hand around the hilt of the knife. 

“And so the plot thickens,” Shogan says, taking off the necklace. “Based on what I know of...up there, I didn’t think you had enough mind left in you to say no.” 

Rayla froze as Shogan’s hands worked through her hair, delicately weaving it into braids. Logically she should have been happy, proud even, that the lie she had worked so hard to sell had worked. Still, Rayla’s stomach turned with cold fury. She was not a dog who heeled when her master called. She was not anyone’s pet, anyone’s whore, or anyone’s mindless weapon. Only her own.

People, daemon or otherwise, would always see what they wanted to see. Jvar had wanted obedience so Rayla had played his game. But what did Shogan want?

It would be better to give them nothing, betray nothing, until she found out. Rayla stood up and shook out the unfinished braids, letting her hair fall like a curtain over her shoulders. Without another word, she walked out of the room and down the hallway towards the main hall. She moved fast, keeping her eyes locked forward, not glancing back to see how close Shogan was.

Rayla slipped through the huge doors, shutting them without a sound. The sight stole her focus. The room was crowded full of daemons, all of them dancing and killing as daemons did. A metallic, bloody scent hung in the air. Rayla smiled, draping her legs over the staircase railing and sliding all the way down as the eerie, shrieking  sound of violins rang in her ears.

So this was Hel. Predictably unpredictable. Extravagant and violent, yes, but still underwhelming. Rayla expected this of Mor’s kingdom. She clutched the hilt of the knife she had snatched, the weight familiar in her hands.