The Second Archon War: Comoedia Glacialis 2 (Patreon)

Comoedia Glacialis 2: Enter the Damsel, stage Right, and the Thief and the Hero, Stage Left

The road to Moscow was cracked and broken, having been in long disrepair. It had been eight years since the city’s destruction and the fall of the Soviet Union, but no one had ever bothered to try to fix the roads. Indeed, these days in Russia, no one bothered to try to fix much of anything.  

It was the same for the once great city: Moscow was now a graveyard and a ghost town, and few people tried to brave it these days. While the radiation levels in most of the city were now low enough that short-term exposure would no longer kill you immediately, prolonged exposure from the Red Army’s futile attempt to kill Behemoth and the Endbringer’s own radioactive revenge were still at levels that would rapidly become lethal after more than a few hours. 

Of course, the lethality was a result of a long, slow death due to cancer, or a more rapid but far more agonizing death because of radiation poisoning. That did not stop many from searching through the ruins for what valuables they could scrounge, with the outskirts of the city where radiation was lower featuring makeshift hovels and shanty towns. 

Few dared brave the center of the city, where it was still hot enough that exposure of more than an hour or two was guaranteed to result in a lethal dose of radiation without expensive protective equipment, and even then greatly increased the risks of lethal cancer. 

For some, however, there was little choice in the matter: Whether because of desperation, greed, or simple stupidity, many still braved the heart of Moscow in the search for hidden riches. Most of the good stuff had been picked over long ago, but there were still desperate treasure hunters who made their way in. 

Coughing and shuddering against the cold, a ragged form in an ancient too-large Red Army overcoat stumbled through the snow and ice. Bloody bandages covered her face, and one eye was near sightless now. Radiation and cancer had blighted this one so badly that this poor soul had not long to live. Bleeding gums and a bloated belly told the rest of the story: Malnutrition and starvation. Whether by the cancer that ravaged her body, or the lack of nourishment, they did not have long to live. 

But the human spirit burned fiercely and brightly, and the ragged form continued on, stumbling through the snow, breathing hard. It had been only a few hours since the horrific battle had concluded, and this person had stumbled out of their shelter. This was, perhaps, their last chance in their fevered mind: a chance to find something of enough value to get medicine, food, to survive for one more tortured day. 

Three times the figure stumbled and fell, and three times they rose again, trembling and weak. At last they made their way into the city center, the Death Zone, where there was little left to loot because of the devastation. 

Now, however, something new was there, laying sprawled out on the icy ground. The ragged figure slipped and skidded over jagged ice, ignoring the trail of bloody footprints left by shredded boots. 

The scavenger found not precious metals or usable junk, but the pale body of a young woman. Slowly, the raggamuffin sank to their knees beside the figure. Then, they pulled off one glove, revealing a hand missing the tips of several fingers as well as the pinky from frostbite. The hand was placed over the lips and nose of the young woman, and remained there for several moments. 

Then, the figure jerked in shock. “You…you’re alive?” a hoarse whisper croaked. Hastily, they brushed snow off the body, not even bothering to return the glove to their hand. A few moments later, they took out a small gas burner, and clumsily lit a small fire with matches. It was a futile gesture, but after a few moments, a tin cup of melted snow was pressed to the lips of the unconscious woman. 

“Drink…please. Wake up,” the scavenger begged.

To their shock, the eyes of the unconscious woman shot open, piercing blue eyes staring into the intruder’s soul. 

“Drink. It’s warm,” the scavenger croaked. 

“You are sick,” the woman said, reaching a hand up. “Child, what has happened to you?”’

The scavenger flinched away. “I…I’m sick, don’t touch me…I…was looking for…for food. Something.  Anything.”

“Have you any?” the woman in the snow asked, but the scavenger mutely shook their head, and held up the cup of steaming water.

“This is all I have to give,” the scavenger admitted. 

“That is enough. I accept your offering,” the woman replied. Then she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the Scavenger's bandaged face, anointing their forehead. “Be healed.”

The scavenger jerked, body contorting as they collapsed, the empty cup falling from their hands, though no one had drunk of it. After several seconds of seizures, the figure sat up slowly, then looked down at their ungloved hand. 

It was whole. Five fingers. No discoloration, or loss to frostbite. The trembling hand reached up to the formerly milky eye, and pulled off the badges, revealing the freckled face of a girl of 14 years. Her entire body was restored. She stood on strong legs, then whirled to the woman in the ice. 

“What…what did you do!? Mary and Joseph, I- Oh!” 

The woman in the snow’s eyes had closed, and she lay still once more. Hastily, the young girl knelt beside her, pressing her ear to the woman’s lips. 

“You’re still breathing, but…barely. I…I don’t know what to do!” the young girl said desperately. She looked around, uncertain. Then, grimly, she knelt down by the woman. She wasn’t much bigger than the girl, but her face had an ageless, ethereal quality to it. Still, she looked no older than a young woman, and with a grunt, the girl managed to lift her find onto her back.

Then she began the long, slow march out of Moscow, bearing her cross with her. 

The roar of the helicopter filled Anatoly’s ears, even with the headphones, and he grimaced. Not just at the noise, but at the time this was taking. Everything was going far too slowly. There was something here, something within his grasp, something that could change his fate and the fate of all Russia perhaps. But they could only move so slowly. 

“Sir! Put these on.” 

Anatoly turned to his aid Toma, who was pressing a breathing mask and goggles on him. 

“Radioactive dust particles are the most dangerous, and we’re nearly there,” Thoma said over the radio, Anatoly chuckled but did as Thoma said. It was hard to find good help, and the German man was exactly that. The mask and goggles were uncomfortable, but even on the outskirts of Moscow, radiation levels were not at safe levels, and Anatoly saw little reason to take excessive risks. 

The helicopter touched down at a makeshift landing pad, and Anatoly stepped off as the engine still roared, several of his men with rifles and heavy coats hurrying towards him.

“Any news? Anatoly shouted. 

“We are still searching,” the one in charge said, shaking his head. “We haven’t found much yet.”

They hurried away from the helicopter pad, and towards the shanty town that had sprung up. Hollow-eyed scavengers peered out from ramshackle wooden buildings and dugouts with tarps over them. But Anatoly was surrounded by a dozen men with rifles, and Thoma as well. Though Thoma just looked like a secretary, that was his favored disguise. In reality, he was a rather powerful cape, one of the best Anatoly had on his payroll. 

Soon, Anatoly had commandeered the “general store,” where scavenged goods from Moscow were sold and traded for food and other supplies by those that combed the city. He also borrowed the maps that the store owner had. He paid for it of course, not in rubles as those were worthless, but in good German Marks. Those, American dollars, and Japanese Yen were the preferred currency of the black market, as they actually retained some value. 

“We’ve searched the nearby area, but we’re having a hard time getting into the city center,” one of Anatoly’s lieutenants said, pointing at the map. 

“I don’t care about the radiation. Tell the men whoever finds whatever it was that Scion fought will receive enough money to make him a rich man, and we’ll take them to a healer to purge the radiation,” Anatoly said. He’d do it too, but only for the ones who found it. The failures would die, but if there was one thing that was in cheap excess in Russia, it was human lives. 

“Tell everyone that if they find anything, there is a large reward,” Thoma told the men. “Enough to make someone fantastically wealthy for the rest of their lives.”

“Get moving, we won’t be the only ones here for long, and I want the prize,” Anatoly ordered, and the men hurried away, save for half a dozen guards. 

There was nothing to do but wait then. Anatoly was certainly not risking his own life on this endeavor. If he died, where would the profit be? 

“I do hope I find something to bring back to Anastasia,” Anatoly said, strolling around the store with his mask and goggles around his neck and peering at the various crates of junk. He rummaged around, pulling out some broken jewelry and frowning at it. “Something of value, at least.”

“She will be disappointed if you miss her performance for nothing,” Thoma agreed amiably. “What do you hope to find, exactly?”

“I do not know,” Anatoly admitted, shrugging. “They say it might be another one of those demons, the Archons. Whatever it was, Scion fought it for nearly a day. There must be…something. Something of great worth.”

“I hope so,” Thoma agreed, though he looked concerned, and Anatoly frowned. 

“You think we will find nothing?” he asked, tossing the jewelry back in the crate. Cheap garbage, and nothing more. 

“Well, it is simply a fact that the battle was devastating…are you looking for a corpse?” Thoma asked, his tone mild. 

“A demon’s corpse would be worth something, eh?” Anatoly said with a chuckle, rubbing his gloved hands together. “The devil’s balls, but it’s cold in here.”

“It’s winter,” Thoma said with a shrug. “It’s always cold.”

They waited a few more minutes before a call came over the radio. “Sir, we’ve found something.”

“What?” Anatoly demanded, picking up his radio immediately. “Where?”

“Two girls. One’s unconscious. Looks like they came in from the Death Zone.”

“Do they have anything?” Anatoly demanded eagerly, his heart beginning to race as he headed for the door, Thoma half a step behind him. 

“One girl has something…odd.”

Anatoly sprinted outside, then hurried through the snow with his bodyguards to where several snowmobiles waited. Gunning the engine, Anatoly raced through the broken streets, his heart pounding in his chest. Something odd. What was it? It had to be valuable. How, Anatoly didn’t know, and didn’t quite care. The point was to get something, anything, that would help him and his family secure a future. 

His dream was to one day reunite and rule Russia himself, but for now, he’d settle for something that would let him become the true power in Saint Petersburg. He was already one of the top contenders, but he needed an advantage, and that advantage needed to be power. Not just wealth: that didn’t cut it anymore. With capes, Endbringers, and now Archons running rampant, something more was needed to secure the future and ensure Anatoly’s dominance. He had seen what happened to small fish, and Anatoly was determined to become a large one, no matter the cost. 

It took precious long minutes to arrive, half an hour of threading their way through the devastation. They got far too close to the Death Zone for comfort, with the Gieger counters ticking worryingly loudly as they progressed. Still, it was worth the risk in Anatoly’s mind, if not Thoma’s.

“We should have them bring it out to us, a man could die of cancer spending too long in here,” Thoma shouted over the wind. 

“A man could die of many things in this world, but I will not die of inaction,” Anatoly laughed, and pressed on despite the warning ticks. 

They came at least to a frozen husk of a building about three kilometers outside of the Death Zone. The ambient radiation was still hazardous: you couldn’t spend more than a few hours here safely. But Anatoly took his potassium iodine pills and hoped that it would be enough. “Can you block radiation?” he asked his aide. 

Thoma shrugged. “Don’t. But if I keep my shields up, you won’t be liking the air after a few minutes.”

Anatoly grunted and stepped into the building, where he found two of his men holding an angry-looking girl with a bruise on her face at gunpoint, along with what looked like a sleeping girl laying in a pile of rags. 

“Boss, we found this one trying to make a fire. She gave us the business, but we didn’t rough her up too bad,” one of the toughs said. 

Anatoly grimaced, then slapped the man with his gloves. “What have I told you, Akim? You ask nicely first, what are you doing to these poor girls??

He turned and smiled at the first girl, stepping past the guns of the chastened guards. “My apologies, young miss. We are looking for something or someone, you see. You were at the city center, near the battle?”

The girl scowled up at him, then spat to the side. “No.”

Anatoly sighed, then held up a hand as the other guard raised his rifle butt. You caught more flies with honey than vinegar, as his grandfather always said. “My apologies, I have not introduced myself. I am Anatoly Kamotsky, a businessman from Saint Petersburg. My card.” 

He produced a business card with a flick of his fingers, handing it over with a smile. The girl took it, but from how she looked at it Anatoly doubted she could read. 

“So? I found nothing. My sister is sick. Radiation. Go away.”

“You look hungry,” Anatoly said. “And cold. So cold. Laz, your coat.” 

One of the guards hastily handed over his coat, which Anatoly proffered to the girl. She hesitated, then snatched the coat. To his surprise, she hurried to kneel by the sleeping girl and laid it over her instead of putting it on herself. Anatoly snapped his fingers and motioned for another coat, which was quickly provided. “For you. Your sister, she looks well, for someone with radiation poisoning.”

Indeed, though he could see only her face, which had been clumsily bandaged and cleaned by the look of it, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, with pale gray hair, high cheekbones, and delicate lips. She didn’t look like a sick and dying peasant: she looked like a movie star. 

Actually, now that he studied the first girl, though she did have rough peasant features and plain brown hair, she seemed healthy as well. Not like the sickly and disfigured mutants he thought he would find here. 

“Here, have some chocolate,” Anatoly said and produced a bar of the very best Swiss Chocolate he had imported. He had a bit of a sweet tooth and had only the best.  

The girl sucked at it, then blinked. “My…my teeth…” Then she began to hungrily gnaw at it. Her teeth? They looked healthy enough. Which was another oddity to be sure. Most of the people around here should have bleeding gums and missing teeth. 

Turning to his men, Anatoly asked, “What did you find?”

“It’s with the girl,” Laz said, shivering slightly and pointing to the sleeping one. “We…it felt wrong to take it.”

“Don’t touch her!” the other girl snarled, lowering the chocolate bar and half snarling. “Don’t hurt her!” 

“I have a sister, you know,” Anatoly said quietly. He could solve this situation with force, but bullying an ignorant peasant girl lacked any charm to him. He’d simply kill her if he needed to, but again, honey over vinegar. Why kill that which could be useful? 

He drew out a picture of Anastasia at her last birthday, the two of them smiling as they posed at the theater. He passed it over to the girl, who glanced at it, then gently touched it with her gloved hand. “She…she is beautiful,” the girl admitted. 

“What is your name?” Anatoly asked. 

“K-kollei. Kollei Moskalyov,” the girl said quietly. Tears filled her eyes, freezing as she wiped at them. “Will…will you help her? She…she helped me.”

Anatoly nodded, then stepped forward. This time, Kollei didn’t protest. He knelt down, lifting the blanket to reveal the sleeping woman’s hands folded on her breast. Her clothes were bloody, torn, and ragged, but had once been quite fine. However, the most interesting thing was the glowing blue chess piece, in the form of a bishop with a snowflake on it. Hesitantly, Anatoly removed his glove and reached out to touch it.

Love. Grief. Sorrow. Love. Ice. Stranger. Love. Paths. Rage. Love.

He jerked his hand away, sucking in a breath.

“Easy,” Thoma’s voice said, and in a moment his aide was at his shoulder. “What was it?”

“What we are looking for,” Anatoly said, replacing his glove and standing up. He looked at Kollei, who was still shivering and frightened, then at the woman. “Bring them both. But be gentle. Very gentle.”

“What are you going to do to her!?” Kollei demanded, balling her hands into fists and glaring at Anatoly. 

“She seems injured. There is blood. We will take her to a hospital. I know the very finest doctors,” Anatoly promised. “Do not worry. You can come too. I will take very good care of you both.” 

Kollei looked like she wanted to fight for a moment, until Laz stepped up and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. She deflated instantly, looking down and nodding dejectedly. 

“Laz?” Anatoly said, and the big thug looked at him like an attentive hound. “As carefully as you would treat my sister.”

“Yes, boss,” Laz agreed, hastily removing the hand. No one touched Anastasia. Not without Anatoly’s permission. 

The trip back to the helicopter had Anatoly feeling exuberant, but worried. Mostly someone else would come and try to claim his prize. Fortunately for him, he seemed to have acted quickly enough that they were able to get to the helicopter and fly away without anyone attempting to stop them. 

He made sure to pay off Laz and Akim before he left. Enough money they could get drunk for a year without having to work, which was likely what they’d do with the bounty. It was also enough they could get the hell out of Russia and go somewhere where life wasn't so miserable, but Anatoly doubted they would. After all, he hadn’t. 

Leaning back in his seat, Anatoly gazed at Kollei and the still unmoving body of the sleeping woman. She was alive, the doctor he had with him was tending to her, but her temperature was deathly cold, and her breathing shallow and uneven. They had an oxygen mask on the woman with her strapped to a stretcher. Kollei was hugging herself and looking out at the countryside flying by below them, her eyes very wide. 

“Have you ever flown before?” Thoma asked the girl. He’d encouraged her along with smiles and jokes, though she had mostly seemed too scared and confused to do more than what she was told.

She mutely shook her head, wrapping the jacket Anatoly had given her more tightly around herself. She spent most of the ride holding the unconscious woman’s hand tightly in hers, muttering something to herself. 

“What do you think she is?” Thoma asked over the radio, nodding to the sleeping woman. 

Anatoly grinned and shrugged. But in his heart, he already had a suspicion, one that was confirmed when the first reports of a new type of Vision, one of which had been bestowed on Alexandria herself: 

Archon.

Teleportation made everything too easy. Sometimes, it was necessary, but when you could use Instant Transmission to get anywhere you wanted with a snap of your fingers, you valued things a lot less. He could have gotten a door or gotten a power that let him teleport, but that wasn’t his style. 

Things needed to be earned, otherwise, you wouldn’t appreciate them as much. 

So Eidolon had flown to the secret meeting, this one taking place in Los Angeles. He nodded to Wyatt upon entering but frowned at the dark-skinned woman sitting on the couch with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Hannah because she was an Arab, it was that he didn’t like that they’d let someone with an Archon touched Shard into their little group, even if it had been incredibly useful to have Armory as a source of information. 

It was all too quick, and even if Contessa said it was the best path forward to let Miss Militia into their inner circle, it still seemed wrong. 

The real focus of his attention though was Becky, who was talking with Doc quietly in the corner. Scowling, Eidolon glanced at the food, and his eyebrows rose. “We’re back to donuts? I thought we got off that kick.”

“I brought the food! And it’s not donuts, it’s baklava,” Contessa said cheerily, half surprising Eidolon as she popped up from the back corner of the room. 

“Fancy donuts,” Eidolon grunted, but he took some anyway. Might as well eat as he worked. 

 “I think that’s everyone,” Doctor Mother said, nodding to the assembled group. “Rebecca, why don’t you begin.”

“Well, first thing’s first, this is mine,” Becky said, holding up a glowing blue gem. 

“Saw that on TV,” Eidolon grunted, taking a seat and a bite of the baklava. Actually, that was pretty tasty. Probably still bad for you. Couldn’t eat shit all the time if you wanted to be in peak condition. 

“Then you understand the implications, David,” Becky said with a grim smile. “A new Archon has arrived.”

Swallowing, Eidolon looked around the room. Hannah was nodding seriously, Wyatt looked concerned, and Doc looked thoughtful. Contessa looked like she was a million miles away, and was just eating her damn dessert. He was tapping into some Thinker powers at the moment, so Eidolon got more than that. 

Becky was…resolved. She’d always had a clear head and a good idea of what needed to happen. It was why Eidolon followed her instead of bucking for leadership himself. Aside from the fact that it would be a distraction, like this whole President boondoggle, he needed to focus on preparing for the Apocalypse, not filling out paperwork. He did too much of that anyway. Now though, Becky was like, well, the other Vision Holders. She wasn’t going to let anything stop her. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead for her. 

Aside from being a lovesick dope, Wyatt was deeply worried about his lover. He was a good enough guy, but he was too silly and unfocused most of the time. Maybe this would finally get him to wake up and realize they had to make some hard decisions if they wanted humanity to come out of this alive and not just alien roadkill. 

Hannah was…interesting. She saw a clear duty here. She’d been read into the program a lot more than Eidolon was truly comfortable with, but she saw this as an opportunity. One they had to be cautious about, but this was a chance to find someone else who could make Scion bleed. She was worried, but she buried her nerves under discipline and routine. Huh. Maybe she was alright after all. 

Contessa was impossible to read, and Eidolon had given up on that a long time ago. She’d gotten weirder as time went on. For a while, he thought she was growing up and taking things seriously. Then she’d started putting googly eyes on that damn party favor and had a little shrine to Nahida she prayed to. Her loyalty might be compromised, and Eidolon was keeping an eye on her. 

As for Doc, she was the same as she’d been since her own Vision had come down. Calm, collected, and determined. A rock that they all needed and relied on. Eidolon still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the Visions, whether they were from Archons, and what Archons even were, but another weapon in the scabbard was perhaps worth the price. And even he had to admit that, unlike the others, Nahida seemed to be entirely benevolent. His darkest fear was that she was hiding something ominous, but for now Doctor Mother’s patron seemed to be on humanity’s side. 

“So what the fuck do we even think Archons are?” Eidolon demanded, looking around. He knew his own thoughts, but he wanted to be sure of the others. 

“Gods.” 

All eyes turned to Contessa, and Eidolon was surprised. She usually wasn’t the first to speak, though she did respond to questions, so maybe that was it. But by the light of zeal burning in her eyes, he didn’t think so. 

“They are the gods of the Old World, come to aid their children in time of need. They are terrible and great, and could be a threat, but not in the same way as the Entities,” Contessa continued. “They must have heard my prayers and received our burnt offerings. Though in the case of Raiden and Venti, I have been using drink offerings instead.” 

That was pure nonsense and fantasy. Eidolon believed in only one God, and these false ones were nothing but temptations from the Enemy. Raiden especially made it obvious what she was: a demon out of hell sent to scourge humanity. She could still send them all back to the Stone Age, or did everyone just forget the blackout her arrival had caused? 

“I do not think they are gods,” Becky said slowly, shaking her head. “They seem to be creatures on a similar level to the entities. Aliens, most assuredly. Extradimensional beings, perhaps, with great power. Nahida is benevolent, and perhaps Venti. Even Raiden, in her own way. But I’m not certain if they’re on our side.”

“What do you people even call gods?” Contessa muttered, apparently to herself. “Aliens. Extradimensional. They’re just gods.”

“I am inclined to agree more with Rebecca than with Contessa, but I do agree that at least for now, they are on our side. Whether or not the enemy of my enemy is my friend will remain to be seen, but first we must defeat the Entity,” Doctor Mother said calmly, steepling her hands in front of her. 

“Eh, I’m on Contessa’s side. It’s sort of romantic, you know?” Wyatt said, grinning like the idiot he was. “The old gods and legends coming back to help us when we most need it? That’s some real Gandalf on the Third Day of the Siege of Helms Deep stuff.”

“How do we know they’re not competing Entities?” Hannah asked, looking around the group. “Think about the similarities: they both grant powers, they both have avatars of great strength, and they seem subservient to Scion in some way, calling him the ‘Sustainer of Heavenly Principles.’ I think they’re connected. It can’t be a coincidence they showed up less than two decades after Scion did.”

“Bingo,” Eidolon said, pointing to Hannah. Damn, she really was a smart cookie. And clear headed too. “I think that's the right answer. They’re dangerous. Even Nahida. We can’t trust them.”

“How can you even say that? Nahida has done nothing but help mankind! She brought back dinosaurs, Dave, dinosaurs!” Wyatt protested. 

“And she allied with one of the most murderous and evil capes in the entire world. She even calls Farasha ‘mother,’” Hannah said, her eyes flat and deadly. “I don’t know about all of you, but I remember my trigger event. I saw what the Entities are: vast, godlike beings, like a swarm of alien locusts here to devour us all. They’re feeding on us, somehow. No one is as pure and kind as Nahida presents herself. She’s getting something out of helping us, mark my words.”

Wyatt shook his head in disgust. “Is it so hard to believe that she is simply a good person, a truly benevolent god? I thought you and David were both Believers, Hannah. Aren’t you Muslim?” 

“No. I converted after I moved in with my adopted family. I’m a Unitarian Universalist,” Hannah said with a shake of her head. 

That immediately dropped her down several levels in Eidolon's mind. The Unitarian Universalists were worse than even the average apostates in the Christian Churches. It had been too much to hope she was a Latter-Day Saint, but perhaps she was open to the Truth, unlike the rest of the group. Still, she was on the right track at least. 

“We’re getting off topic,” Becky said, interrupting the conversation. “We all agree that the Archons are the source of Visions?” 

Grimacing, David had to nod along with the rest, and Becky smiled grimly at him. What a bitch.

“Good. Then we know what we have to do: We have to find this Archon, and ascertain whether or not they are hostile. Based on what I heard when I received my Vision, they’re a woman. Young, though I couldn’t give you a range beyond post-adolescent and pre-middle age. Clearly, they arrived in the ruins of Moscow. We already have a team searching there, but the radiation levels make it tricky.”

“Send in the Case 53s. What’s their purpose if not to be expendable assets?” Eidolon asked with a shrug. 

“We’ve got a couple that should be radiation resistant, Roach and Snail,” Doctor Mother said. “They’re searching the area, but communications are difficult. Powers aren’t working properly in the area. Two Thinkers who went into the area appear to have had complete mental breakdowns already. One clawed their own eyes out, raving about ‘the Warrior Awakens’ and the other won’t stop weeping and reciting ‘loves me, loves me not.’” 

That didn’t sound good. Eidolon’s mind raced, and he asked, “Were they ours, or natural triggers?” 

“One of each, actually,” Doctor Mother informed him. She glanced over at Contessa. “Any insights?”

“Only that it’s not good that Scion has further awakened. I think…I think this new Archon, whoever she is, hurt him. He hasn’t been seen since the end of the battle. It’s too much to hope she killed him, but…” Contessa trailed off, and began muttering to her stupid toy again. 

“I won’t cry any tears if this new Archon did put paid to Scion, but I doubt that killing him would be enough to end this. Which I find improbable in the first place,” Eidolon said with a shrug. 

There was no way this Archon had. All these years of planning and one of these new terrors just swooped in and saved the day? There had to be a catch. God had called Eidolon to save the world, not these false gods. What would be the use of all that he had gone through if Eidolon hadn’t been called, just like Joseph Smith had been? 

It couldn’t all be for nothing. It had to be worth it. Because if Darius Jones and all the other poor souls that had been sacrificed on the altar were meaningless… then Eidolon was the worst criminal since Lucifer himself. 

“We have to operate like Scion is alive and still hostile. But our priority is finding the new Archon. She’s a potential ally. She sounded…” Becky’s eyes grew misty and distant, and Eidolon knew he was about to hear some emotional drivel. For a woman so strong and intelligent, she really could let her emotions blind her and mislead her at the worst times. “She sounded so loving, yet full of grief and pain. I think she has the potential to be as great an ally as Nahida.”

“Or as bitter a foe as Raiden,” Eidolon pointed out, which to his irritation earned him disgusted looks from everyone. Even Hannah shook her head slightly, her lips pursed. 

“Let us pray that she is not,” Doctor Mother said. “Let’s get to work, people.”

And so they got down to brass tacks. They couldn’t risk their most valuable assets, but there were other things they could do: Find others with these new visions, and create a psyche profile. Contact sources in Russia. 

But Eidolon had another mission: Hunt for Scion. They had to prepare. This was a test. They needed worthy foes to face, to prepare themselves for him. Perhaps this new Archon would be one such. But if not, there were always others. One way or another, the day of reckoning would come for them all. 

And somewhere, in a space between worlds, two more horrors began to awaken.