Defeat throbs in my veins. Omen and I trek along through the forest, far from the reach of Víddar and his pack of malicious mutts. Something tells me he would've been better to have on our side, rather than against us. But he might not be, I reckon with myself. He almost seems as if he cares to play no part in these games, and I suppose him being unstirred is better than him being on the wrong side. Even if he were to take Avel's side, I would surely smite him for it.

To think this is what I have been roped into - all to protect Cassian. The younger boy of me would've never known that we would end up like this, instead of left for the dust. But perhaps that is still my fate, if this battle is to be lost.

But if it's for Cassian, I shall not lose.

"The goddess you approach now, Aeris, is perhaps the truest challenge of them all," Erebus appears, his voice low, as if someone can hear us. "It is not likely you will win her favor, either. Not unless you pit her against Avel."

I reach up to a low hanging fruit, a bright red apple among the assortment of trees. Magic, perhaps. I bite it in half, feeding one half of it to Omen, whose hot breath and teeth brush my palm as he eats. Does she have a reason to hate him? I think, feeling strange - talking to myself and receiving a response.

"He pretended to love her," Erebus offers.

Avel? Capable of even pretending to love? Whatever for? I don't understand what the God of Life could seek to gain from feigning affection to the Goddess of Fire.

"Power," Erebus answers. "Always power."

I don't understand it and perhaps I simply won't. Power is only useful to an extent, but then what? What does it matter really, in the grand scheme of things? You do not gain power by seeking to control things outside of yourself. You only lose it.

Avel will have to learn the hard way.

Omen veers to the side slightly, plodding through a clearer, wider and less root-infested path. All this travelling and he has not once complained, in any sort of way. I wonder how his loyalty works, if it is of his own free will, or if it is simply an innate bond of Erebus' dark creatures.

So many questions - about everything. Although, I feel Erebus' silence. His presence but not really here. I can picture him standing at the precipice of his kingdom, watching but not quite listening. I can feel he is tuned out, even though I know he still watches over me.

I look up at the sky above as we continue to trek through the wilderness, fading from a bright spring blue to a cool azure blue. No clouds are to be seen, strangely. It's falling into a clear evening. Not for me, though, for I have no idea of what I'm about to encounter.

"Rest, Azael," Erebus comes again, after a while. "You do not want to be caught in the dark."

Perplexed, I look around, realizing Omen has veered off path, taking us to the mouth of a small cave, a small clearing, surrounded by thick oak trees acting like nature's fences.

"But I cannot rest, Cassian's life -"

"He is safe for now," Erebus tells me, knowingly, all knowing. "You cannot go to Aeris at night. You must rest."

Omen slows to a stop at the entrance of the cave, like a small burrow, perhaps where a bear and her cubs would've nested for a season. Reluctantly, I slide off his back and pat him, despite my discontent with having to pause our journey. Every moment I'm not making my way to the gods is a moment I lose with Cassian. And perhaps Cassian himself, in my mind.

"Here is safe and you will not be found within these trees," Erebus assures me. "This is perhaps the only chance you will get to rest. Take it."

And I feel him fade away.

I stand at the mouth of the cave, assessing my surroundings. It's not dark yet, but within an hour or so it will be. Fire, I think, I must make a fire. If I'm truly as safe as Erebus claims. But I must be, otherwise he would have warned me. He can hear my thoughts and if I were planning something foolish, he would surely stop me.

I must be safe here, after all. Which is a feeling I thought I'd never feel.

CrAck.

My head snaps up, so does Omen's. Right beside me, a brown hare emerges from the burrow of a tree. It's large and meaty, dark eyes wild with alertness. It knows I'm here, and yet it emerged from its shelter. Slowly, I draw my dagger, careful not to startle it, and I throw it with a flick of my finger.

A squelch sounds as it goes through its chest, clean into its little heart. The hare slumps immediately, and I go to pick it up, as well as a few broken branches. It isn't the first time I've been in the wilderness, out of all the adventures Cassian and I have embarked on, often having to sleep amongst shrubs and snakes. Wherever we've gone, we've adapted. We survived together.

Now, it may only be one of us that makes it out of this alive.

I dig a small hole with my hands in the dirt, place all the twigs around it accordingly and strike a rock against them until it snaps into a small fire. I use the spare twigs to form a spit roast, spearing the timely hare through it. Omen stays nearby, grazing on some grass on the skirts of the trees. The only time I've seen him do so.

I sit by the fire, feeling its warm embers lightly singe my skin. My stomach churns in anticipation, not having eaten in the past few days, it must be - but being too wired to notice.

Now that I'm here, with nothing to do but wait, my eyes feel a heaviness they must've been holding back. I wait till the hare roasts until I pull it apart with my hands and teeth, savoring every tender mouthful. By the time I'm done, the sky has turned into the blackness of the bottom of an ocean, and I lay down in its darkness. My fire ticks away, as though it'll never run out. Omen clicks behind me, and despite his instincts, he tucks himself beside me, so that his head is close to mine as I drift into a slumber.

I dream of gods and terrible things. But aren't they the same thing?