Blackwood forest was not his goal, nor were the plains at the end of the journey. Not today. He needed to pay a visit to another city along the way.

The 1st old prophecy wasn't the only one he had unearthed after years of loneliness. The idea that they were prophetic still made Valentine chuckle in the dark. His voice startled him a little. Both the lack of a living response and the uninterrupted gruff and sinister laugh.

Here he strode through the scarily dense forest that left no room for man to move on the dimly lit path. That saturnine mockery echoed off trunk and limb, a cacophony of voices mocking him from the inky depths of tightly woven limbs.

If that wasn't enough to lift his hair on end, nothing would.

It scared him because wood absorbed sound, and here it was amplifying it. But it all sounded like him, not another living thing. A deadwood threw his scarcely living self back at him.

Valentine forced his mind off the forest and back to why he came here, suppressing a shudder. A direction was more comfort than the deadwood.

One story in his faith called for walking to the ends of the world to bring everyone home. The thought almost made him miss managing migraines. Valentine was certain that he was the last person at an end of the age of man. Now, he was traveling towards it's dawn, where the Goddess declared animals to be men. He knew that place to be in the great plains to the west of Asher's Heart.

It was renamed Asher's Heart because Loric pierced it in their chapel. She bled out the power that man wielded in the fight against demons. It was the first time Loric wielded wings and Valentine became obsolete.

He didn't know he was discarded then. Then, for 2 decades, he was certain.

Now? Now he wouldn't know what to think until he held the spear that pierced her in his hands.

If it was a spear.

It was one of the many things clouded with age. What had Loric called it? Mankind's right to rule?

At least there would be no more trees mocking him from the depths of the forest in Asher's Heart.

The dogs glowed as they scouted ahead. Between the finely sparkling lights dancing above them, his company, and the narrow options of the road? All pointed to the justness of the path he trod.

Valentine laughed again, a bit more like he oiled his old armor's joints. This time the dark didn't answer back.

He refused to dwell on it. Chasing the dark led to battles. That thought led to how heavy his home had been on his shoulders and overwhelmed his caution. It almost turned the laughter to tears, but he couldn't change the past.

They traveled this way for eternity, as there was no way to tell time in this twilight world. But he was alive. He was doing something, not marking the time until his death.

It was the closest thing he had to perfection...

Until they reached the first clearing.

The carcasses were fresh enough to stink of death. Offal had an earthy smell in demon. Ichor was more like bog butter: cheesy, with a hint of mold. Their flesh most often reeked of urine and pigs. It left a sense of unease, as the smell was within edible range, yet spoiled. It wasn't supposed to be the mix a fresh kill should smell like.

There hadn't been demons anywhere near their size in 6 years. Here was a whole field of near misses to the human realm. Every one of them was Riders, mostly beheaded. Their deaths were within days of his travel.

It was dead Th'Thee everywhere...

Lark.

He had her with him for so few years and so damned long ago that he forgot what she even looked like. It was a very visceral reminder of her and their people's failure to survive. Whatever got them was big enough to kill an old battleaxe that had no business in a fight anymore.

Not like he intended to avenge demons. But he was certain that whatever it was, it was not another human. Not with the way the Goddess called mankind home. She rent them in two by the very seat of the power she gave them.

His knees hurt at the thought of a serious clash. That was the first joint he tweaked in a good battle. In a bad one? He sometimes wondered if he would walk off the battlefield under his own power.

Over the shock, he thought about how well he could see. It was still blind as sin, but the duller of the twin moons peeked through the small break in the tree cover. Beyond the desiccating mounds of monsters, there were several paths into this glade. They had named this area heartwood, but it wasn't the heart of the forest, as that was further south. It was the crux of the woodland trails connecting six cities. One of them would lead him to Asher's Heart.

The light that had led him thus far had disappeared while he had examined the bodies. Which way should he go?

Whisper barked, well, tilted her head back and appeared to howl. She sprinted up the northernmost trail. Valentine cursed as he tweaked a knee, trying to catch up, scrabbling to not step in death. Vesper trailed behind, as if she could guard his back and push him from behind.

The little light twinkled back into view, and the trail widened. Both his companions shifted themselves around him to walk by his side, much as they did through the city. It did nothing to dissipate the prickling down his spine. Something was watching him. Was it the creature behind the voices that mocked him with his own laughter? Or the monster that killed the demons? It was an unfathomable force dragging a debt of anomalies—something he didn't want to know the answers to.

Would such a creature even care about him? He was almost nothing, certainly not a threat.

It was nearly broad daylight by the time the trees thinned out. Valentine had walked for more than a day. His joints ached, and his feet felt a little numb. Even greater, he felt the pressure of an unseen presence leave him on the edge of human decay. The knight's steps became surer in the presence of a new wall in the distance.

All too soon, Valentine found the gates of another fortressed city. There, he faced an alien world he never knew. The fact that it was his own world made his chest hurt. This place is what he owed diligence, not the thing in the forest. He hoped to never face it again.

Asher's Heart could be seen woven into the gate's wrought iron, something that wouldn't survive the sea. That had been torn open by some great beast of another era. Stepping in was as eerie as it ever was back in King's Cross. He should be used to the dead cobblestones, but they weren't in the same pattern as back home.

Despite the disorientation, Valentine knew where he was going. Maps in King's Port showed that the great temple sat on top of the hill across from the castle. One was in white marble, the other in Rosestone. Amidst the slate shingles and thatching that had fallen to the cobblestones from cave-ins that created havoc on the city's skyline? Twin spires pierced the cloudless day, one blinding and the other a study in sunsets.

Valentine had no intention of resting until he stepped foot inside the cathedral. That had been the safest home in King's Port. It was possible that the Goddess protected her territories as well as she had protected him.

His pace picked up, and the jingling of his armor was like a fairy's tinkling against the rhythmic clack of his boots.

It felt like home. Almost.

At least here, he didn't see the echoes of people.

Up and in, to the center of this small work of man, he finally reached the great square, meeting with a morbid sight. A now-ancient gallows sagged in decay. The ropes were long and snapped, and skeletons dropped below where their owners once hung. There had been no foxes or dogs to steal the bones, no worms to crawl across the cobbles. It was as pristine as the cold deep. Bleached as they were by sunlight, Valentine wondered at the state of their marrow and almost retched. These were once men, not cattle that he could make a stew with.

It mattered not that they had been dead these past 20 years. His thoughts were fresh and unwelcome.

A wry grimace crossed the man's face. Valentine had not suffered much from thoughts he didn't want. That still didn't save him from thinking evil things that made no sense. If anything, his mind turned more towards the macabre because he had no one to hold him to a higher standard.

He became convinced that a single man was a dangerous man, on his thoughts alone.

Valentine hobbled his mind towards the cathedral's doors. All were shut, save one that had been left half-ajar. That's the one he chose to go through. He was certain the others had not moved in quite some time.

Glass windows splayed the massive chamber with bloody light, slashed with vibrant greens and deep blues.

There were no benches for rest, as worship had always been standing or kneeling to the ground. Valentine tossed his bags to the floor at the feet of the pulpit. There, the priestess would tower over the masses like she was Goddess before man.

The light from the solar stained glass shone down on it, leaving it the brightest point in the room year-round. That was the whole point of the tower, refracting light to shine on this one position on any day of the year. It even magnified light through the cloud cover and the moons decently.

The radiance of the Goddess, given to man.

Given to no one, now.

Even with the absence of a woman standing on that raised platform, the emptiness was a sight.

Valentine sat down and leaned against his sack. He took off his boots and checked his feet, as the trip was maybe halfway over. He didn't want to wait any longer, now that he was finally moving. There was a faint chaffing that he wrapped a bandage around before he slid back on his socks. It was better than waiting for it to irritate into a blister. Someone his age couldn't afford to limp along, not with the fresh dead he'd seen along the way.

Whisper pranced up to him and laid its head on his lap. Not that he felt it, but that it was the want of feeling it for both of them that led to him patting her head. Vesper rested by his hip, sound asleep and dreaming of hunting something by the way her legs moved and lip curled.

Valentine wished he slept that well. Whisper picked up her pale head and barked as he slipped back on his boots and slowly stood. His back protested the sudden movement after such a long trek.

She danced around to the side of the platform and nosed against its side. There, something like a torch or a flag pole was bound to the pulpit. The knight thought about it for quite some time before reaching out to touch the ancient scepter. This was the sign of the high priestess' power, a scepter in its own right, one that matched the King's own.

It hadn't been a spear that pierced the Goddess, but her very right to rule.

Who was Loric to the Goddess?

Valentine had always seen them as billy clubs, some last truncheon of defense when the helpless found themselves without protection. It's weight was tempered backwards of a sword. The smooth knob on one end would bash in a skull with more force, as that would be heavier than the hilt, but a sword's longer blade counterbalanced the weight in the pommel. Holding the weapon by its handle forced the wrist to droop out of line. The sharpened point of its grip rested in the palm, daring a nick while wielding it. It was a weapon not meant for long-term use.

He hated it. He hoped he never had to use the damn thing. But if Whisper thought it was important, well, who was he to question someone who couldn't answer him?

A shadow fell across the solar's light. It had to be a passing cloud, right?

He heard the yelp of a dog.

He heard the yelp of a dog!

Turning, he found a mass of darkness had landed on top of Vesper. A demon, nothing like he had ever seen before. It had legs, wings, and eyes every which way but reminiscent of an animal. Unlike the greens, blues, and yellows of various demons, this thing was pitch black, and that same foulness roiled over its surface. Everything beneath its presence was impossible to discern.

It looked like his laughter had sounded in the depths of the forest. Without form. Without reason. Without a sure place to plunge in a blade and end the madness.

The demon lashed out with something vaguely like a scorpion's tail. Instinctively, Valentine blocked it with the scepter. The blow sent a shockwave through the church, setting off the bells high above them.

The creature hissed as it's shield wobbled, stepping back far enough for Vesper to scramble out as Whisper leapt on top of the creature's crown.

Valentine unsheathed his sword after tossing the scepter into his weak hand. This wasn't a creature where precise jabs and careful dances were going to land any blows. It had too many legs, and had too far a reach. Instinct caused him to step back when protocol screamed thrust, dodge, not parry. It was a small comfort that the dogs were already dead because he came close to splitting one's skull with the scepter on two separate occasions.

He could hear the dogs.

The monster could hurt the dogs.

Whatever had changed, he suspected that he'd be the second death of his companions if he wasn't careful.

Something winked like an eye on the demon. What exactly changed, Valentine couldn't process and name, only that it changed in a way that was akin to an eye.

He hoped he found a soft spot.

Valentine jabbed the ball of the scepter into it, pushing the head to the side, to thrust the sword into a possible jugular.

Who knew what the depths he was hitting?

A spitting squawking, and it twisted its head nearly clear around to take a hold of Whisper and toss her into him.

She passed through him, but not the scepter, tearing it out of his hands.

Suddenly all the noise in the fight went still, save his breathing.

He lunged forward with a dull light flickering behind him. The sword bit into the creature, cleaving it like it was a soft cheese. Yellow ichor dropped to the floor. It was not deep enough to prove it was a killing blow.

After the initial spray, the yellow took on the mottled orange hue and slowed to a drip. The creature was healing too fast.

Vesper rent her claws and teeth through a wing, causing the demon to turn and lash at her as she danced across its spine. Valentine pulled his dagger and hitched it into the tail. That allowed its momentum to swing him up on top, nearly landing on the dog.

Whisper limped in front of the creature and slowly transformed into the woman he rarely caught a glimpse of. Her whimple was askew, allowing blonde hair to spill out, though the rest of the gray woolen habit was neat as a pin. The dogwoman started yelling.

He could hear her.

He couldn't listen.

Valentine found a place in this non-spine to slam his sword down into it and twist. Trying to break it's back while he slipped around was frustrating enough. It lunged at Whisper and snapped down on her with an audible crunch. He held onto his sword like it was a saddle's pommel, helpless in the ride. The remains of his companion fell over just as the scepter sprang forth like a javelin in her still-gripped hand. The scepter followed the path he had carved through it.

That was how Loric speared their Goddess with her right to rule, giving them wings.

The dim light that flickered behind him burst into brilliance. Not that he had a chance to use his wings in the fight. There was no need, as Whisper's aim had finally cleaved the beast.

The amount of blood that flowed was a small, bitter pond. The camouflage of its foul darkness dimmed, leaving its true form behind. Valentine rode the mad collapse out on top of the creature. Vesper fell to the side and didn't stir once she landed.

And Whisper?

There was no coming back from what happened to her.

Now Valentine could think of doing something more than surviving. What she was yelling finally sorted itself out in his mind.

He slumped down, sitting on the corpse of the monster, his forearm resting on his sword's hilt, breathing harshly as his chest pained him. His heart was too weak to fight anymore.

But it hurt more because Whisper had cried out, "Meet me in the next life."

He wasn't sure she was talking to him. Vesper was right there, and that had been her partner, not him.

While he had a suspicion that he might be able to bring everyone back, he wasn't sure he was going to have a second life. This one came embarrassingly close to being done-in. Still could if his heart finished giving out on him.

He was too fucking complacent. But it was for the best. He hadn't had the scepter out in the forest, after all.