As often as steel clashed, hateful words flew.

Waverly crawled away from the duel as fast as her weak arms would permit, though she barely made any progress because the ground was covered in rocks that formed unavoidable obstructions. The chains rattled against stone, and her skin scrubbed their rough coats. Yet she pushed on in hopes to reach the river. Anything but being entangled in old rivalry.

But the sound of marching boots from behind told her she was being followed.

"Not so fast, love!" Pluton grabbed the fabric on the back of her dress, heaving breaths. "You're not going anywhere just yet."

Before she could swat him away, Duke had charged, initiating another round of intense combat. With Pluton being the better fighter, his opponent was soon overpowered by being pinned to the wall, like a needle to cushion.

Duke fought to dislodge the sword that held him fast and shouted at the top of his voice. "You will not get away with this, Braund!"

Pluton sniggered contemptuously. "I think you're about to watch me do."

Waverly shuffled back as he strolled to kneel over her, his odd breath fanning her face.

"You need to understand one thing, love," He began with a pitiful grimace. "Nothing about what I'm going to do is personal."

"Fletcher doesn't think so." She growled in a mumble.

But the man overheard.

"Don't do what he says!" He shouted.

Pluton's gaze did not waver. "In this case, you have no choice. All I want is to get close enough to the witch goddess without being torn apart."

"You're asking the wrong person then. She'll tear us both apart. Get away from me!"

She lifted a hand to strike, and he simply grabbed it.

"Rumor is that you're her new favorite now." He chuckled. "As much as she wants to rip you limb from limb, putting you to harm when she isn't the one responsible for it will guarantee an audience."

"Braund!" Fletcher shouted. "You're being foolish! You will fail again."

Pluton rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I should've stuffed that big mouth of his first."

He reached out to pick Waverly up like she was made of paper and slung her over his shoulder. The environment spun. There was little she could do, but wriggle every now and then. Albeit, Pluton marched on and on.

"You won't succeed, Braund." Fletcher called after him, still fighting to set himself free from the sword buried deep in his ribcage and the stone wall behind him.

"Fare thee well, Duke Fletcher." Pluton grunted.

Slowly, Fletcher's shouts of disagreement faded. Waverly watched the ground since it was the only permitted view. She thought Pluton could not possibly know his way out of the gorge, but the fact that he walked without pauses convinced her otherwise.

All was silent save for the sound of rattling chains and their faint echoes, and the occasional grunt of effort from Pluton. The thought of him going up to Hekate to bargain his freedom was a curious matter, and inasmuch as she wanted to punch him for involving her, she itched to know how he intended to go about it.

"Fletcher was your best friend." She muttered out of the blue. Pluton's long silence made her think he did not hear.

After a while, he scoffed. "He's a buffoon."

"You betrayed his trust." She reasoned. All of a sudden, their story arc was beginning to become clear to her. "That can be the only reason he's so angry at you. You don't care. You've never apologized for it."

"I have nothing to be sorry for." He grunted again.

"Yes, you do. You hurt him."

There, he roughly set her down, but on sandy ground. The stones had all almost receded. With a frown of disapproval, she sat back up, watching his expression turn furious.

"Whatever happened between Fletcher and I belongs in the past. It's none of your business, and at this moment, it's none of mine."

"You don't understand friendship. It's why you're all alone. It's why you'd need a stranger's help."

He leaned forward. "You're not a stranger now, are you?"

"Fletcher isn't." She countered.

Pluton threw his hands up in frustration and spun. "For goodness sake, he's been dead to me for years! I agree that he wants to take a different approach to things, but it doesn't mean I have to compromise all the time. I have a right to do things my way."

"Yet, oftentimes, compromise will save you, even from your own stupidity."

"What do you know about friendship?" He fired. "Look at you! You're all alone here, too. I don't see a single soul about wanting to hold your hand and skip into the sunset. You're as lonely as I am."

"No." She shook her head and stood. "You have it all wrong, Pluton. I might be alone right now, but I was never lonely. That's because there are people that give me strength even when I think it's all hopeless."

He spread his arms out and looked around. "Well, where are they?"

Waverly placed a finger on her temple. "In here." Then a finger on the left of her chest. "And in here."

He scoffed a laugh. "That's absurd!"

"It's quiet, isn't it?" She gestured to the surrounding and observed silence for a moment.

"Of course it is."

"Not for me." She lifted an eyebrow, her thoughts suddenly filling up with old memories. "I can hear laughter, music, crackles of fire in a roasting pit, light rain, a morning breeze, chirping birds, and the call of seagulls. All very faint, yes, and some even fading, but I recognize them still."

Pluton's head tilted as if he were both amused and curious. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Waverly briefly shut her eyes, feeling all that she had listed manifest in her mind's eye in an almost surreal, but blurry picture. In spite of that, the image set her soul ablaze with new hope.

"You want an audience with Hekate. You want to bargain with her for something you won't say. That may sound brave to your ears, but it's not. You seek her without any form of defence because you think that you go in peace, whereas, in truth, you bare only weakness before her. You have no power in your mind, Pluton, and you know this. Fletcher does too."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He laughed.

"Only very little ties you to what you want, and it is not convincing enough." She stressed. "It's why you failed the first time. Hekate can see through you. She will search you for connections."

She took a step forward. "You think you're better off alone; without memories, company, love, or passion for anything, but those are truly what makes you strong. Hekate did not find any of that in you the last time, and even now she might not. Even she holds on to memory no matter how old they are because it is necessary. But there is only emptiness inside your mind."

Pluton listened with a kind of blank expression on his face, the wind whipping his clothes about. He seemed at a loss for words.

"I think, back then, you may have misunderstood the power of friendship and underestimated the influence of unity." She went on calmly. "If you'd allowed the collective effort of your friends prevail, then you might have gotten what you wanted. Hekate might be a witch, but she recognizes that ingrained passion is an essential thing for existence. You, Braund Pluton, are void of that. You will fail. You already have."

He opened his mouth, faltered, then broke into a little laugh. "All of a sudden, you understand the workings of a god's mind. If you're as connected to your life as you so claim, then what the bloody hell are you still doing down here, hm?"

"Hekate does not wish for me to ever leave."

"That woman doesn't wish for anyone to go bloody anywhere at all," His voice took on a devious tone. "But if you're smart enough, you could offer her a wish."

Waverly's eyebrows went up. "What wish?"

His index ticked sideways. "Ah, ah, I won't tell. It's far too expensive an information to give out so freely, and trust me, Hekate is the only one that could buy it off me because only she can give what I truly want."

She studied him closely.

A smug smile toyed at his lips. "Turns out I also understand the workings of a god's mind."

"Keep your secrets then." She sighed and began to walk away.

"Hey, hey, where do you think you're going?" He rushed forward, but Waverly spun quick and held out his own knife that she had swiped without his knowledge.

His jaw fell. "How did you—"

She ticked her index sideways. "Ah, ah, I won't tell."

"Don't try anything stupid." He warned with a laugh, drawing his sword. "You're too weak for combat."

She brandished the knife. "I wouldn't jump to conclusions if I were you."

With an exasperated sigh and an eye roll, Pluton restored his blade into its sheath and lifted both hands. "Fine! I don't intend to engage in a fight with you, but you're going to have to do as I say, or I'll be tempted to."

Waverly kept quiet, watching him.

"Come on now, put the knife down, and let's get back to working together."

"This is not working together. You're forcing me."

"However you choose to put it, drop the knife."

When she did not comply, he surged forward, but she threw the blade and it sank deep into his shoulder.

"Ah! What the hell?"

Waverly quickly darted past him, dodging his extended hand. She heard the knife as it came out of his flesh and clattered against distant rocks.

"Come back here!" He yelled.

She did not dare look behind, running as fast as her heavy legs could manage and without an idea where she was headed. Perhaps she believed his injury would slow him long enough for her to make an escape, but within the horrible blink of an eye, Pluton crashed into her and sent them tumbling against wet rocks.

"You won't ruin my chances of escaping this blasted place." His voice came muffled as he struggled against Waverly, his hot, ragged breath fanning her shoulder.

"Let go of me!" She growled, fighting to set herself loose.

All of a sudden, Pluton grabbed the chains and looped it twice around her neck and around her forearms. The metal was colder than the bottom of the Istas. Angered by her new bounds, Waverly began to kick and scream.

"It'll do you no good, love," He breathed heavily. "Wasting your energy like that. All the same, I don't need you talking and ruining my audience with the witch so. . ."

He pulled a kerchief from his pocket, flailed and rolled it, then stuffed it into her mouth, but not after Waverly had bitten hard into his fingers.

"Damn you!" He spat in anger, clutching his hand.

Overwhelmed by exhaustion, she stilled, staring at him with burning hatred as he hurriedly bandaged his shoulder wound. The kerchief smelled like some kind of earthy mineral, and it stung the back of her throat with an acrid taste whenever she swallowed.

Pluton kept both hands on his waist to balance himself. "Now that you're quieter, I can use my brain again."

A guttural growl was the response.

He laughed. "There's a lot of flame in you, love. I like that, but it's useless to me; an obstacle, even. I don't intend to stir a sour relationship with you – you seem really self-conscious and braver than most – but here we are. I bet you hate me now."

Her eyes widened in a glare, but she did not make a sound.

With a nod, he spun. "I'll take that as a yes. Now, where's that bloody shortcut?!"

Quicker than she liked, Waverly found herself being led up an unfamiliar, hilly path back to Hekate's castle. Because her chains were magical, they did not tangle at any point and could straighten or stretch to accommodate whomever was pulling at it.

Pluton held the metal coils at a safe distance, turning on several occasions to glimpse her trudging behind. The chains around her neck and the material in her mouth aggravated her anger, and there came a great urge to lunge at Pluton, but the path was narrow and she could risk falling off the edge if she tried to run. Besides, her gait was unsteady because of the weight of the shackles abounding her limbs. The black path sloped higher, introducing a breeze so chilly that it worsened Waverly's budding case of the shivers. The air sliced through the light fabric of her dress that had miraculously survived for and kept her fairly decent so long.

Since the trek began, sight of those black spires marking Hekate's abode as they pricked into the sky had filled her with sickness, but when full view of the castle unraveled at last, she felt her legs grow heavy.

"Oy, no slacking now!" Pluton urged and yanked on the chain, causing her to jerk forward. "We're already here."

At the black gates, she noticed that The Istas, which was many leagues below the foundation of the castle, managed to run up and through Hekate's courtyard from a spring spilling into a stream on the eastern side of the entrance.

"No guards, no sentries." Pluton mused, gesturing to the eerie compound. "No need for the feeble protection of men when power of this degree is in her possession." He turned briefly. "Wouldn't you agree, love?"

But Waverly scowled at him and peered about. She never really saw the environment from its foot before and was stunned by how intimidating every structure looked. From the marbled floors to the iron wreaths that ornamented the gates, everything was fashioned from black resources. Nothing bore color. The surrounding only bled depression and loneliness; even the eerie statues all looked sad and worn. In many ways, the environment testified metaphorically to Hekate's persona, but then again, all who dwelled in the gloomy realm could also relate.

The realization made her uneasy.

Giant double doors opened by themselves as soon as Pluton stepped onto the threshold.

"I am expected." He humphed and readjusted his jacket. A hint of smugness was in his tone. "How honoring!"

Waverly stared at the interior. It was a massive room, round and lacking furniture yet abundant in heavy curtains, dim candles, and marbled columns. At a far left corner was a flight of curving stairs, and as they approached it, she flinched out of instinct - a sentry of huge creatures emerged from under both sides of the stairs and blocked the passage.

"Halt!" The creature that spoke looked just like Tars. "How dare you breech this abode without permit?"

Pluton gave a nervous laugh. "I am expected, good fellow."

The creature grunted. He and all his brethren turned to Waverly.

"Why do you have it?" The creature questioned again, pointing at her with a fat stub of brownish finger.

"It," Pluton side glanced at her. "is partly the reason why I am expected."

The creature sighed, unexpectedly stepped away from the stairs and gestured for the rest of his company to do likewise. "Very well! Proceed."

"Thank you, good fellow." Pluton nodded and yanked on the chains a little too vigorously, causing Waverly to fall face forward.

Sudden impact with the ground forced the kerchief out of her mouth to a degree, and she wasted no time in spitting all of it out.

"Bloody liar! He is no guest." She exclaimed, pushing against the extra weight of her chains in attempts to rise.

"Uhh, don't listen to her." Pluton quickly offered as angry growls banished the silence that previously hung in the atmosphere. "A prisoner would say anything to save her neck. If you let her escape by attacking me, your mistress will have all our heads on a spike."

The thought of being spiked was not very pleasant, so the creatures stood down and did not attack.

Waverly stared at them in disbelief as Pluton dragged her to her feet. "Such dolts you all are!"

"Would be nice if you'd shut up right now so I don't ask one of them to step on you." Pluton threatened from in between his teeth.

She glared hotly at him. "You're despicable!"

"It's one of the reasons why I'm so lovable." He faked a beam and grabbed her forearm. "Come on, and no slacking!"

The stairs went up and up, until Waverly began to grow dizzy, but at last, they came up to a final stair head and rounded the corner.

"One would think because you know your way around, you are friend and not cowardly foe." She commented.

Pluton came up to her and held up his index. "I regret not stuffing your mouth again, but if you push me, I'll substitute the kerchief with my fist. Now, you better behave while we're in there."

"Or what? You'll ask her to toss me off the roof?"

"Push your luck any further, love, and I just might."

With an eye roll, he marched onward.

The hallway was long and big enough to permit easy flow of air. The condition of the passage would have been comforting had the walls on both sides not filled her with anxiety.

At last, the doors to Hekate's throne room loomed over them.

"Are you going to knock now, or write a letter one week prior to let it be known that you were coming today?"

Pluton's face carried disbelief. "How insolent can you get?"

"You have not an idea!"

He inched closer. "Perhaps that chain around your neck isn't tight enough."

"Keep talking," She lifted her chin, gesturing to the doors. "perhaps she'll hear your loud monkey chatter and come open the doors, O expected and honored guest!"

Pluton lifted a hand, but was swiftly interrupted by the doors swinging inward with a tired groan.

In the crown of the fairly bright room, Hekate was perched on a black seat, legs crossed and arms leisurely thrown on the armrests. The train of black lace attached to her dress pooled at the foot of the chair, and from the distance, the glyph on her forehead shone with a brilliant sort of sheen. Her dark hair was back to all its sleek glory, spilling over her shoulders, like sleeping reptiles.

Her head tilted. "Further in."

Pluton tugged at his jacket and strolled into the room. Right in the middle, he came to a halt and bowed gently.

"Your Esteemedness."

A short sigh came out of Hekate that made Waverly think the goddess was exhausted at the mere sight of her visitor.

"The nerve on you, Braund, son of Stamos Pluton." She fiddled with her lower lip then leaned slightly to the side to look behind him. "I see you brought a peace offering this time."

Waverly could not see Pluton's face, but was near certain it wore a stupid smirk. Her arms, which she could not place by her sides because of the angle of the shackles, ached to madness. She wriggled to try and loosen them by a few spaces.

"As is fitting, My Lady." He responded.

"How much trouble did she give you?"

"Nothing more than what I could handle. Although I propose that such trouble be not handled by your sacred, fair hands. It is men like myself that should oversee pestilence of this sort."

Waverly scoffed. "In a world of pests, you're a bloody plague."

A hearty laugh came out of Hekate that was short-lived. "Again with the wile in your words, Braund, but I have no time to spare for fancies. Why have you dared cross into my household without an invitation?"

Braund bowed again, lower. "Your Esteemedness, accept my heartfelt. . ." He placed a hand on his chest. "apologies. It was quite urgent, and it is well known that you're no idle entity. A lot of business requires your attention. I feared that if I awaited an invitation, it would never come."

Again, Hekate leaned - very slightly - to the side, and Waverly met her eyes.

"Is there a good reason as to why you have my prey in that state?"

There was hardly a trace of concern in the question. All the same, Waverly suspected that Pluton's claim had been correct. Hekate seemed uncomfortable with the idea that someone else was in charge of her prisoner.

"I reckoned she was a valuable of yours, and that you might be needing her back." He regarded his shoulder wound for a moment. "Also, she stabbed me."

Hekate sat back. "Don't refer her that way, or the wretch will develop an inflated head. Her pride gets fed easily. And no, she is no valuable."

"Then let me go, why don't you?!" Waverly pitched.

An audible growl rolled out of the goddess's throat. "Don't infuriate me any further. I still haven't forgotten what you did to Ragord."

"The infamous Diseased Slayer?" Pluton wondered. "He's real, huhn?! What has happened to him?"

Slowly, Hekate rose. The air pulsated with energy. "That is no concern of yours. Say why you have come, or risk my grief and wrath."

As quick as lightning, Pluton went on his knees and lowered his head. "I have a proposition that will interest you. Restore my soul and give me another chance at life, and I will render all of my days into your service."

Hekate's brewing anger flickered in noticeable manner. Curiosity rippled past her features. "My service?"

"Yes." Pluton breathed. He paused for a few seconds. "I understand now that my previous requests to leave your realm were based on purposeless reasons. I desired foolish things, but I see clearer this time." Then, he slowly gazed upon Hekate. "A life without purpose is but an empty conch that fills up with salty seawater with every wave. But I see the glory in living my life in your name; of being a weapon shaped out of your own hands."

As he spoke, he rose and his voice took on an evil tone. Hekate's interest appeared to peak gradually, so much that her gaze did not remove from his own even for a split second.

"I've heard of honored prophets, sons and daughters who were burdened with your cause, but were unluckily put away by your enemies. You know my strength. You see my passion. And I sense your great hunger for revenge, my lady, your desire to bring anguish to those that have dared raise question to your will. Therefore, I present myself as an offering. Make me an honored prophet, so that I may assume your hand of vengeance and blot your oppositions out from the history books."

Hekate's eye twitched, and Waverly took that as a bad omen. Pluton had indeed found his ticket out of Nys, and she got the nagging feeling that she had contributed to it. She doubted his words were false. Just like Hekate, he was oriented to do evil and cause pain. It should be no trifle for the both of them to work hand in hand.

Pools of dread took seats in her chest when it dawned on her the scale of destruction Braund Pluton would cause when he was set free. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Hekate smirked and threw her gaze to the side. "You see clear and true indeed, son of Stamos. But you are a serpent, and I have no faith in you, though your words bear truth in them. How do I know you will not fail, or worse double-cross me?"

"Put me to the test. I will manhunt whomever you please and bring you their broken bodies, so that you may rip their soul out and condemn it to The Blear."

Mad hunger gleamed in Hekate's green eyes. Her left hand suddenly began to lift, churning out a dark aura that was visible to the eye. The vile energy wove itself into a shape that further solidified into an object. At first, Waverly mistook the thing for a stick, until she saw the long gleaming blade of an opaque dagger, pale as a lifeless body. It filled her with a sense of fright that an abstract thing should seem so. . . human.

"Then to the test you shall be put."

Hekate's gaze veered in slow motion from Pluton and regarded Waverly for a brief second, so frighteningly that the latter's heart jumped. She straightened and held out the dagger, which he received in solemnness.

"This is Ãghar." She introduced, tracing a finger down what seemed to be the blunt edge of it, though both sides looked keen. "This blade has lived almost as long as I, and it is my most prized possession."

"It's an honor, the greatest honor, my lady." Pluton acknowledged.

"Ãghar doesn't kill the body, Braund. In fact, it was not designed to kill at all. Think of it as an expeller. Its task is to fordrive that which it doesn't find. . . friendly."

"I'm at your command. On whom shall Ãghar be used?"

Hekate's stare stayed on him, but her fingers pointed behind. "Begin with her."

Waverly's blood immediately ran cold.

Before she could react, Hekate moved a hand and her legs were swept out from under, presenting the ceiling as her only view.

"My lady!" Pluton audibly acknowledged.

First, Waverly heard his footsteps, then saw his face next. He looked at her with a kind of faraway expression, as if he had no idea who she was, then knelt and came close.

"Told you I knew the workings of a god's mind." He whispered. "Seems you are the delusional one between us after all, and just to clarify, this has now become personal."

With a grunt, he lifted the dagger.

She let out a sharp exhale when Ãghar came down and tore deeply through bone and flesh in her right shoulder. The pain was cold and biting. She felt her chest congeal and contract, then begin to grow heavy. Her vision blurred to almost nothing, but she clearly saw rays of silver light escape out of her and toward the ceiling.

"You have proven your loyalty, Braund Pluton." Hekate exclaimed, her tone tainted with pride. "I bestow on you the strength and power to bear my image and do my bidding to everlasting. Now, the veil of Nys is torn, and let your soul journey back to its body."

Out of her weakened vision, Waverly glimpsed Pluton being clad in new garments before he began to fade like a disappearing image and was gone completely from sight. Everything felt weak, dead, and so hollow that she could almost hear her own breath swishing inside her chest.

Hekate came and pulled Ãghar out of her shoulder, and the knife dissolved in black tendrils of power.

"Again, I win!" The goddess exclaimed, then rose and walked out of the throne room, a soft snigger echoing in her wake.

Although the pain was fading quite fast, Waverly felt that Ãghar had caused worse effects. She confirmed it to be so when she tried to think about good things and realized, with pained shock, that she had no memory of such. In fact, her mind's eye felt blind and void. She wanted to cry, yet found no reason to.

To an extent, she felt. . . mad.

Straining, she made to check her shoulder, where an aching stab wound was concealed by coils of chain, and could not even recall why she was doing so. All she knew was that every fibre in her being had just been stripped of strength.

She was ultimately crippled.

So, she remained there, awaiting help of any kind, and for what seemed like thousands of hours, none came. She fell in and out of uneasy slumber countless times, waking in utter confusion and great fear, and a sort of frailness that made her feel sick beyond recovery.

At last, the sound of little feet tapping against the floor in numbers made her peer around. A flock of short people surrounded her, and with collective effort they lifted her onto a board, which they had brought with them, and without much talking, wheeled her out of the throne room.

Waverly studied the strange walls as she was being moved, taking note of how they changed with every turn. At a point, her transporters carelessly pushed her down a single flight of stairs that sent the board on which she laid to bump and jerk and bash hard against her head.

After one more turn, she felt the air become windy and realized that she had entered a wide room with just two walls on either sides. The northern wall was missing and allowed for one to see into the bleak open.

"Bring her up!" A throaty command came.

The flat board was wheeled to the leftward side of the room and then connected to some other kind of machinery that helped it levitate, until Waverly was upright again. The little creatures climbed on top of one another to work and freed her of the loop around her neck and arms. With little care, they binded her chains to the transverse post over her head. This time, her feet could touch the floor properly.

Afterwards, they removed the board from behind her.

As soon as the wooden support was gone, Waverly felt her own body weight pull her forward, putting a painful strain on the shackles and on her wrists. Each time she attempted to stand up straight, her knees would buckle, and she hurt herself again.

"Her Esteemedness has deemed this a fitting punishment til eternity," One of the little creatures began. "that you carry burdens of darkness to bring shame to her enemies, to yourself, and to once again announce her triumph in this age. Here, in this lightless vacant room, shall you remain for evermore. If you seek freedom, you will only find it in death. Hail Hekate!"

"Hail Hekate!" The others chorused and scurried out of the room, towing their equipments, and the wooden board. Once outside, the door was jammed shut and locked with resounding bolts.

Waverly was uncertain whence the wind came – from the vacant wall by the side, or her own chest. However, it alerted her to the thorough emptiness she was surrounded by.

Regardless of not being able to vividly make out anything beyond seven feet from her stand point, her eyes peered into the distant horizon and she glimpsed vast lands that stretched like rivers. Similar to the inside, the rest of the world outside was empty. Not an insect zipped by neither did a loose leaf guided by the wind cyclone past, nor did a rodent scurry into hiding.

All was silent, even more than a graveyard.

She removed her eyes, letting her chin slump forward on her chest to be able to focus better on the only way to find some form of relief in all the depressing hollowness – bearing her own weight in spite of the dark burden that now lived inside her.