True to his promise, Zors brought Waverly to the place where she could rest and be beyond Hekate's reach.

In order to prevent a case of future compromise in security, possibly from one of The Balderdash, he alone was to take her there. She first said goodbye to Ghost, then gave an apology for not being able to bring him his memories. Unfortunately, he was not amongst those whom Isadorios had chosen to receive his memories. She had no prior knowledge that the Chay could make such a decision, especially when she had failed to be specific about names. Though she suspected that Zors purposefully left out that bit of information as an excuse to validate why he got his memories and many others did not.

But Ghost did not seem to care much about it. He was simply glad that she made it out of The Loathe albeit the influx of Duke Fletcher and his mindless goons, who caused a stir wherever they went. It made Waverly feel terrible that she was leaving him to deal with the instigators.

"Oh, pay no mind to that!" Ghost had dismissed. "It is now Zors's obligation to handle excesses of the quest he sent you on. Besides, there was never a guarantee that you would return the same way you left."

Unable to argue, she had given a solemn nod and bade him a heartbroken farewell. He, too, was not allowed to pay her any visits nor find out where she would go as part of said security measures, mostly because she trusted him the most. Until Zors came by himself to retrieve her, no soul would ever discover her whereabouts, not even Reek.

The walk to freedom was tiring and long, and she was astounded by the vastness of The Coath because new scapes kept on presenting themselves, as if someone stood in the horizon and paid them out bit by bit as one would do a long line of rope.

As she walked behind Zors, her mind strayed back to Pamola. The Succubus had not only shown mannerisms that were unusual for her nature, but also thrilling ability. The fact that a simple touch could return forgotten memories made her wonder if, perhaps, Pamola was as powerful as even Isadorios. What Waverly had seen was no beautiful picture, but it opened her eyes to a surprising fact - she knew Pamola. Not in the way one would know a friend, or a lost belonging, but as she would recognize the face of a random stranger that she had seen twice in a row. Once, long ago, Pamola was one of a few of her kind that had attacked Waverly whilst on a journey.

And what was worse? It was she who hacked the creature in two, thereby banishing her to Nys.

Waverly could not exactly tell which felt uneasier; that Pamola chose to resurface that particular memory, or that she had been vulnerable enough for the creature to take revenge, but the latter had chosen not to. It was strange, but then again, being in Nys was punishment enough for anyone. After falling into Pamola's pool, she realized that her encounter in the strange jungle had felt a whole lot different than anything Hekate had been whipping up. Whether it were the result of her imagination or not, she had felt real again; alive, and back to the world. It felt as if Pamola somehow restored her to life, but partly, so that her consciousness coexisted in both realms at the same time.

Then came the idea that, perhaps, the Succubus was indeed capable of restoring life albeit for a short moment.

She suddenly began to yearn to jump into the pool again. Not only had she been given the chance to see Judson one more time, he heard when she called out to him. If only she could reach out again, she could tell him where she was, and he would definitely come find her.

All of a sudden, she began to doubt her decision to follow Zors.

Just how long would she hide from Hekate?

Certainly the day would come when the goddess would either wringe it out of someone, or use her powers to locate Waverly herself. It seemed a better alternative to return to Pamola and send a message to Judson than to cower away in some hidden place, like a spineless bug.

As all her thoughts reined back in, she discovered that for a long time, Zors had been leading her through a kind of ravine much narrower than Pamola's, a lot spookier, too, as a result of the several dead growths that were protruding from the rock face on either sides. An air of foreboding signatured the surroundings. A funny chill creeped in on her the deeper they went, and she began to notice the hinky way Zors stole glances from over his shoulder. The path ahead was enveloped in dark fog, spreading out in different directions so that, to her, it looked somewhat like the waters of a tributary.

The closer they drew, the slower her steps became, until she finally halted. At that moment, whatever instinct inside her that warned of danger right before she walked into it surfaced and began to flag warning arms in her face.

"What is this place?" She asked, and her voice carried into the cold air, echoing through the ravine in distorted sounds.

"Your hideout." Zors grinned. He strolled toward the fog and stood before it. "This way."

Waverly lifted an eyebrow, her senses ringing in vicious alarm. "What is in there?"

"Refuge for the brave one, as promised." He gave a little, obviously mocking, bow.

She took a few steps back. "I won't go in there."

Zors broke into a most crooked, vile smile. "Matters little, little Human. If you won't go to her, she'll come to you."

Cold streamed like rushing waters into Waverly's spine. "Who?"

"Did you honestly think you could outsmart me by teaming up with a bunch of pigwidgeons?" In the blink of an eye, Hekate's towering figure was next to Zors, her grin full of satisfaction.

Waverly glared hotly at him. "Is that why you wanted to bring me alone? So you could bring me to her?"

"Zors knows very well where his true loyalties lie." Hekate interfered, swiping her hand over his head as if to touch him, but did not. He bowed reverently. "See, after you left, he came to me himself to inform me of the errand he'd sent you on."

"Why?" She directed the question at Zors. "If you wanted to—"

"He wanted leverage," Hekate easily cut in. "Because he was afraid I would uncover the schemes you thought you were setting up under my nose. And I would have. So, he came to confess. I let him go scot-free with the promise that he'd bring you to me himself when you returned."

By then, Waverly's gut was boiling with rage. She fought to refrain from launching herself at him. "And what if I hadn't?"

Hekate giggled. Her words were laced with great mockery. "Oh, but that's impossible! You are the bravest Human to walk the earth in your time. Of course you'd return." She stilled, and her countenance went wickedly grave again. "I was counting on you to."

The goddess turned her attention to Zors, inspecting him as though he were a kind of plant she would like to trample upon. "Go now! Your work is done. You shall be exempted from the punishment I will give to the rest of your minions and those who dared breach in from The Loathe. I must have order! Go!"

With another bow, Zors grunted and ran out of the ravine.

Waverly unsheathed her dagger and held it out, steaming at the ears.

"Oh, have you learned nothing still?!" Hekate rolled her eyes and waved a hand. The dagger appeared in front of her then dissipated into dust and was carried away by the wind. She strolled forward.

"Don't worry, Zors' word will be kept and no one will find you." She leaned into Waverly's face. "No one will ever find you, and you can never escape me again, But you can tell me all about your encounter with Isadorios while I cut you open."

With that, she grabbed hold of Waverly's hand, issuing a scream from the latter. The environment melted and was replaced by the inside of a cold, dark, eerie and silent hall of black stone from start to finish.

Hekate shoved her to the equally cold opaque floors.

"Welcome to my abode, moon scum." She announced in the most casual tone. "I did it better than the others, if I do say so myself."

Waverly glanced up at what was a mighty obsidian throne in the distance. It stood nearest an open window - the only window - done with thin black glass and turreted. The hall itself was an orbicular space full of columns as black as everything else; a towering roof, spiraling twin staircases, and a gigantic chandelier exuding ghostly smoke from the stump of wornout candles. Behind her, giant double doors shut themselves, and she doubted anyone other than Hekate could order them open.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Hekate chuckled from her throne, gesturing to the entire interior. "From now on, this is all you will see for as long as your breath doesn't cease."

"I'd rather spend that time looking at a donkey's behind." She mumbled, pushing herself to a stand.

"Now," The goddess mused. "To make certain you don't try to jump out the window."

"Believe me, I would."

Hekate's head tilted and even from the distance, Waverly could make it out as her gaze fell to her wrist. "Do you miss those fancy bracelets of yours? I could make you another - one much better."

"No."

An evil, smug grimace lined Hekate's face. "I wasn't asking." Then, she suddenly shouted in a voice that shook the walls to their foundation. "Court!"

The evidence of great anger in her face disturbed Waverly and made her dread whatever the goddess had in store. The doors groaned as they glided open, ushering a flood of impish creatures, all dressed in aprons and builders gear. They looked like Dwarves, but were much shorter, uglier and stockier, with prominent veins on their muscly arms and large bulbous eyes. As they trooped in, they stood in neat files, until they covered up half the room.

In unison, they bowed low.

"I have urgent need of a new contraption." Hekate said, amid hanging silence. "An unbreakable clasp."

The foremost creature bowed. "Of what length, Her Immanence?"

"Half the length of the River Istas." She responded. "I require it to have a key, one that I alone may possess, in case I wish my captive to taste freedom for a second. This clasp must be infused with magic so that she cannot cross between layers nor go beyond Istas that runs in the gorge."

The creatures bowed again and chorused, "As you wish, Her Immanence."

"First," Hekate rose in slow motion and stared straight at Waverly, pure hatred marring her face. "Bind her to the bars and set free the Diseased Slayer."

Like a rushing flood, the creatures crowded Waverly, pushing and pulling at her limbs. Her attempts to swat them away was useless because of their great number, and soon, they had set up a bar. It was held on each side by two vertical timbers. When they pulled a lever-like contraption, the horizontal frame onto which her hands were tied was raised and her legs left the ground a few inches, putting a lot of strain on her arms.

Whilst they did this, another group pushed a large, open cage into the room. On its narrow wooden surface stood a creature just as large. It was complicated to identify and too gruesomely fierce to look at.

Waverly's heart all but dropped into her stomach at the sight of it. All over its scaly skin protruded ugly boils and disgusting ruptures, and it sported claws as keen as newly sharpened blades. The sound of its guttural roar startled the little creatures around it and they retreated in fear immediately after setting it free. It came as a shock that the creature's weight did not crush the board which it was standing on.

Then, Hekate came forward and stood before it. Her evil smile turned satisfactory. "This is Ragord. My most humble huntsman, fiercest warrior, and personal executioner. Isn't he lovely? I created him all by myself."

Waverly wanted to give a clever retort, but found that her tongue was stuck onto the roof of her dry mouth. Her belly shook with fear and she dared not wonder the kind of things Ragord could do to her, especially with her hands bound. She sorely wished she had her dagger still. At least she could have managed a few rounds of defense before the beastly dug his nails into her.

"You will have such fun getting to know each other." The goddess went on. Then, Ragord leaned into her face so that she could stroke his, whispering softly, "Break her without, but leave her soul to me."

A conceding grumble came from Ragord as it lowered its head then climbed down from the wood.

Hekate strolled back to her throne, passing Waverly as she did. "Even though Andaie dug her heels into this one, the outcome would still be rather very shameful."

"Let me loose!" Waverly shouted. The contraption that held her was adjacent to Hekate's seat by only a few feet so the goddess could have heard even if she whispered.

"Oh, no, wretch." Hekate replied, settling comfortably into her chair. "This will be fun."

"You want entertainment? Then give back my dagger and watch how long I can hold out against the invertebrate lizard-scum you call a warrior."

Perhaps it was the tone she had used, but Hekate suddenly perked - bit by bit - her head tilting in contemplation as her gaze hardened. "You have a way with your tongue like your mother does. Maybe I should let you have your dagger, maybe I should not risk it."

"Why? Are you afraid I'll bury it in his skull and have you watch him die instead?"

Hekate burst into exuberant laughter laced with mockery. "Your pride has no limit, does it? You think so highly of yourself."

"A character that is no stranger to you either." She backfired.

Just then, the goddess shot up from her seat with an angry yell. "Enough!" She glared first at Ragord then unfocused at her dwarvish attendants. "Provide her with one arrow. If she is as skilled a fighter as she claims to be, then she will display her mastery with one arrow."

Her hateful eyes found Waverly's. "If it breaks before you can make use of it, Ragord will rip any limb of his choosing from your body."

The zeal to argue came, but Waverly dismissed it. Although the thought of losing any limb at all was horrifying, she needed to free her arms, which were already on the verge of being unlimbed. Also, she doubted Hekate would allow a bargain on such a gruesome proposal and would probably worsen her situation if she tried.

"Deal!"

The little creatures scurried over to the lever and pulled it backwards, letting her sole touch ground again. Then, one climbed up to the bar and snipped her ropes cut. Another reluctantly handed over an arrow with a vibrant red barb. The texture of the wood was alarmingly bendy, making Waverly worry the moment she touched it. A mere cat could snap the projectile in two without effort.

Looking up, she caught the evil sneer on Hekate's face. Regardless, she accepted the arrow and climbed down from the platform. Then, for the first time in a very long time, she muttered a silent prayer to Selene.

Mother,

Ragord roared aloud, causing bits of dust to rain down from the roof. The little creatures cleared off to provide the widest berth for the combatants.

If you can hear me, I beg a favor.

She rounded Ragord, keeping a good distance between them whilst watching his movements like she had done in the fight with Pluton. Meanwhile, she twirled the arrow between her fingers.

If I am fated to die here, then let me do so honoring your name.

At last, both rivalries halted.

With an angry roar, Ragord charged in a leap. She reared all the way to avoid collision and stood upright.

Infuse my arrow with godly metal.

She gripped the projectile and felt it harden and buzz so much that any more compression would have severed her own fingers. A little smile upturned her lips as Ragord charged again. This time, his arm slammed into her gut with deadly force. She fell forward and spat out blood, aware of the arrow lying underneath her. Then the creature came up from behind and began to repeatedly strike against her back, creating deep cracks in the floor.

"Yes! Yes!" Hekate screamed for joy, laughing in evil delight.

Strength oozed out of Waverly as much as blood did; her vision tunneled and the inside of her head felt heavy as mountain rocks. For a moment, she could not think of nor focus on anything other than the tremendous pain spasming across her bones. Tears leaked out of her eyes like a natural spring, and when Ragord finally ceased his strikes, she managed to wonder if she was still in one piece.

"Now, this is entertainment!" Hekate commented in a gleeful tone. The sound of her applause echoed. "You have done well, Ragord, beautifully well! For your prize, check to see if the arrow is broken."

Ragord picked Waverly up by the hair, issuing weak cries from her, and brought her to his face. The moment he leaned close enough, she held the unbroken arrow out for him to see.

"You lose." She spluttered and lugged it forward with every bit of precision she had left.

The arrow found a place deep in Ragord's eye socket and he began to sizzle, dropping her in the process.

Hekate's shriek was shrill, translating to the degree of horror she felt. She ran forward, but before she could close the gap, Ragord was already nothing but foul smelling dust on black marble.

Her wrath intensified as she turned to Waverly, whom she stared at with searching eyes first. "How. . . How dare you? You dare summon the favor of an Entonian in MY household?!"

She crossed over and dragged Waverly to her feet though the latter had very little strength to oppose anything. A single strike from Hekate's hand sent her into unconsciousness.

The cry of a shrill wind in Waverly's ears stirred her lids to open. She blinked tired eyes, aware of the heavy numbness in her right arm. When everything became clear enough, she realized that she was suspended midair; chained to the bars of a railing by one hand to dangle hundreds of feet over a bottomless gorge. The burning strain on her arm coaxed tears out of her eyes and every attempt to make use of the other hand as a form of balance proved fruitless.

She took note of the shackles that had left reddened swelts across her skin and concluded that, without a doubt, the chains had been put on her while they were still hot. How the pain had done nothing to wake her up was a wonder. On the smooth surface of the black iron, she spotted intricate patterns, like glyphs.

A god's writing.

They belonged to Hekate, she knew, but she could not translate them.

"If not for those irrational preconceptions of Cret and her kind, deciphering glyphs would be a two-way ability."

In a blindspot on the balcony, Hekate sat, but Waverly could only see some parts of her exposed feet. The fact that the goddess was seated in such a corner was not as shocking as the melancholic tone she had spoken with.

"Distrust always was a dominant trait of the gods since the beginning." She humphed, but it sounded more like a weak chuckle. Then, she rose out of the blindspot and came into view.

"If you're going to cut it," Waverly strained. "At least tell me what the glyphs say first."

Hekate waved a hand indifferently and some bars of the railing dissolved, allowing her sit forward and dangle her bare legs. She repositioned to lean sideways right beside the bar around which the chain was coiled.

"I have no intentions of setting you free." Her tone was as impassive and grave as her expression.

"Uplifting!" Waverly muttered, wiggling in attempts to reach the chain.

"This is more mercy than was shown to my mother."

A chilling pause followed as Waverly tried to confirm whether she heard right. Sounds came to her a bit distorted because of the wind, but she doubted she had heard wrong.

"Your moth-"

"Yes, I had one." The goddess interjected quickly. "Ages ago, she faced a punishment of death for practices that didn't sit right with them."

The scowl in her tone was palpable and each time she made reference to an Entonian, hatred dripped from the very word. Waverly felt at a loss over why Hekate was suddenly retelling an old story. However, she had no options than to listen.

"I was not even close to my second decade when it happened. My mother was the most wonderful gift I ever received. She had such an excellent spirit. She cared for me, taught me and guided me, and sacrificed everything to make us happy. Her one desire was to attain heights no other human ever had, and as a result, she delved into practices of dark magic. Witchery."

Staring long into Hekate's face made Waverly realize how stunning it appeared when calm. The goddess seemed to be focused on nothing in particular far beyond the horizon, though it would be unsurprising if she actually saw things. Her dark hair was no longer sleek and perfect, instead it whipped about her shoulders in the direction of the wind. She sat with both hands locked in front of her propped up knee - a very casual sitting position. It almost made her look normal.

"In that age, she was the first mortal to discover the art. It brought her good fortune and growing fame; people traveled far and wide to seek her help, and soon, even Kings sought her." The goddess paused, but it seemed far from dramatic. Her eyes appeared misty, as if she was remembering. "She gave me a good life from the wealth she amassed and began to tutor me in the ways of magic. For a long time, all was well, until. . ."

Her head danced as she lowered it.

Waverly felt a sudden pang when she noticed that she was being stared at. Inside her shade of black hair, the symbol on Hekate's forehead glowed attractively, like a firefly in pitch darkness.

"Do you know what happens when someone else is being worshipped more than they; being sought out and appreciated and loved, respected more?"

Waverly's left eye twitched because she knew the answer, though sorely wished Hekate would avert her entrancing gaze. It felt as if she were being bewitched to feel sympathy.

"Léi'los declared that my mother was an opposition - a glitch in creation. She condemned witchcraft and ordered for it to be stopped. She left my mother with a warning to never cast another spell nor speak another incantation. There was no other way to earn a living, and so, my mother went on about her art, quietly and harmlessly. She took to healing sicknesses and placing enchantments on soil so that it produced much. Even while she worked in secret, many came to her still. Then, Alluña grew jealous."

Waverly heaved a long sigh and risked a glance at the deathly view below. It made her vision fuzz.

"Her job was being done by a nobody." Anger became more distinct as Hekate went on. "It was blasphemous. She brought my mother's case before Léi'los and suggested punishment. Of course, a majority of the Council supported the condemnation of this rivaling power. They feared that a mortal would unseat them and share their glory. So, the freedom and authority to act as she saw fit was given to your heartless mother."

The air turned acrid for a moment before returning to its former tormenting chill that slapped and threatened to skin Waverly alive.

"Alluña came physically to our doorstep." A little grind in her jaw proved Hekate was reminiscing a lot clearer than normal. "She assaulted and embarrassed my mother before the great kingdoms that she had selflessly showed so much kindness to. In no time, the people turned their backs on her because they were too frightened to oppose a god. None could speak up or plead for her sake. Naturally, they sided with Alluña."

She floated to stand on the balcony. Overheard, thunder rumbled and the wind picked up.

"My mother was publicly executed without a chance to even plead for herself." Strangely, Hekate's voice remained calm. "Her gift of kindness was forgotten in the blink of an eye, and she was left to die for choosing goodness."

By then, Waverly could no longer feel the length of her arm, except the weakened joint of her shoulder. A little bit more and she knew her arm would detach. Blood trickled out of her nostrils and limited her flow of air, leading to a constant struggle to breathe.

"I only managed to escape because I cowered openly before Alluña and swore to take no part in my mother's craft for as long as my mortal life would last." There, Hekate's voice took on an edge. Her intense glare redirected to Waverly. "But I also swore in secret to ensure that before my mortal life ended, an immortal one would begin; and no matter what, I would make Alluña suffer what I did. She would one day watch her beloved offspring suffer at my hands as I watched my mother, whom I loved more than my own life, suffer at hers til her last breath. The whole world was going to pay for their betrayal as well."

The whole of Nys reacted to Hekate's anger as her voice rang through the realm, but Waverly was on the verge of collapse and could barely hear a thing.

The next moment, she discovered she was being let up and placed on the balcony floor.

"Deusa is nowhere near ready to receive you yet." Hekate snarled and lifted a gleaming vial of pure glass. Liquid dripped out when she turned it over and spilled directly above Waverly's head. Because it did not splash, she reckoned the substance was not water. The spillage streamed into her hair, soaking it first, then further down into the back of her dress.

Just before she walked away, Waverly caught glimpse of something dangling off of Hekate's ear. A golden earring in the shape of a key. Her eyes shut with the knowledge that her freedom laid in an item that she would never be able to reach.

Slowly, she began to glide backwards.

Some part of her was conscious of the danger, yet she had no power to prevent the inevitable. Then she recognized what Hekate had done.

Her legs reached the edge first, but just before her body could slip clean off the surface, her eyes fluttered open and she spotted a coiled heap where Hekate had been sitting. Her distorted eyesight first translated the heap as a sleeping serpent, but when she moved her good arm, she overheard them rattle softly and realized they were just the rest of her chains. In one quick motion, she moved the good arm and the heap disassembled with force, clanging loudly.

That was when she fell over the edge.

Contrary to what she expected, the chains did nothing to suspend her at any point. They simply unraveled as she fell, pointing to the fact that they were extremely long. As she descended into the gorge, she realized that she had actually fallen from one of Hekate's towers and not the castle like she thought. The dark abode seemed to be glowering at her with the same indifference its host would.

Hekate's tale echoed in her ears, sending a different kind of shiver up her spine than that which came from the cold cloaking the gorge. Dark precipices shielded everything else from sight and the rattle her chains have became the only existing sound, echoing off walls of great stone.

The Istas received her into its cold depths. Waverly fought to swim up to the surface of the river using one hand, but the weight of the chain combined with her own lack of strength kept her submerged for a long time. Instead, she kicked with both feet.

Little by little, she propelled upward, until her face breeched the Istas.

The river ran in a silent course in spite of strong currents and pushed Waverly farther downstream, until she washed up on a rocky turf. From her vantage point, everything was dark and gloomy; the tapering peak of Hekate's tower was still visible by a hair.

It took a long while for the breath in her chest to return to a normal pace, but at last it did. Yet she remained flat on her back.

Then, the sound of crunching footsteps on the stone covered ground roused her. An ingressing figure in the distance drew closer and closer still before she discerned the outline of a man. He carried a weapon in one hand that looked like a fat sword.

When he came up to view, Waverly recognized him as Duke Fletcher.

He looked less dead than he did in The Loathe, leading her to suspect he was once a handsome fellow in his lifetime, but the sneer on his face did not make her like him any more than she already did.

"How such ill fortune has found you." He laughed quietly. "Don't you think you were better off in The Loathe?"

He stood at such a standstill that she started to wonder if his feet hurt.

"Nohow, my ill fortune is all your fault. My company have all been banished to The Blear. I should take solace in the idea that those harping cretins of The Coath were banished too," He brought the point of his sword to rest in between her eyes. "Yet it brings me no joy to see that one lives. Now, there's no one to stand by your side."

"Still the same idiocentric blamer, eh, Fletcher?"

Pluton came from the opposite end, also bearing a sword.

"How are you-" Duke appeared stunned.

His rival spread both arms, sporting a smug grimace. "Let's just say I'm a whole lot better at this "survival" thing than you think." He causally flicked a finger. "Step away from the girl."

"No! She is to blame for what happened."

Pluton spoke between his teeth. "Look at her! Does it look to you like she's in a more comfortable position than you are? Bet she was thrown down here from all the way up there."

"Yet you seek audience with her punisher." Duke accused, finally taking his pointy sword away. "What kind of man are you, Braund?"

"A merciful one." Pluton argued. "I have no desire to bring her to harm. All I want is for her to get me close enough to Hekate."

"Not on my watch, Braund." Fletcher swore and brandished his blade. "If I am to be stuck in this realm for eternity, then I will make sure you are as well. You will never leave. I swear it."

With angry shouts, both men charged at each other.