Chapter 12

Clark scrambles up the steep cliff of the mountain he is climbing. Once he reaches a ledge he stops and looks behind him. Below is the forest he had been hiding in, now ablaze.

From what Clark knows and can guess it seems Belasco got impatient for his death and just ordered the forest burned to flush him out.

He had no choice but to head for the mountain range beyond the forest's far edge.

So here he is, now hiding up in these mountains with who knows what dangers.

"Whoot-whoo," War wolf-whistles at the view as he leans against the rock face. "It seems they're getting desperate," he comments.

Clark sits down and rests his aching bones. He's never been without his powers for this length of time before. Well at least if he's not including his time under Apocalypse's care...which he isn't.

And they're not the only ones who are desperate. Clark's completely lost track of how long he's been in this hell. He's tired, he's sore, he's battered, thirsty, hungry...and he's not sure what this place is turning him into.

Oh wait. Yes he does. It's turning him into his constant mental companion, slowly, piece by piece. Soon there may not be much left of Clark Kent...and War will take over completely.

He scratches his ever thickening beard as he takes a moment to rest. He can only imagine the state of himself with his thick beard, tattered clothes, body littered with scars and healing wounds...all courtesy of Darkchylde. How many times has he fought her now?

Clark's lost count. She is just relentless and clever and cunning, full of tenacity. In many ways qualities he admires. She's really quite something...

Great. He's starting to think positive things over his would be murderer. He's losing it.

Inhuman sounds make Clark peers down as demons of varying shapes and sizes start to scale the cliff beneath him.

"No rest for the wicked!" War practically cheers.

Clark stands up...just as a small pebble rolls down from above him. He reaches for the axe strapped to his back. He's not alone. It's her.

By now he can practically sense when she's close.

His head snaps up and yep, there's Darkchylde is all her ferocious beauty...and she was really beautiful in her own way...ack, he's been here far too long. He's lost it completely now. She leaps down, flaming sword in hand. He raises his axe and blocks it...and you're probably asking why doesn't her magical sword, that could cut him when he had his powers, slice an axe in two easily.

Good question!

Answered by the green glow surrounding the weapon in Clark's hands. The same green glow that signalled the use of War's powers during the battle against the Sentinels and his friends. The same green glow that indicates how this Hell only strengthens War and weakens Clark.

You know this isn't the widest ledge Clark's ever stood on and as he and Darkchylde try to kill each other, axe clashing against sword.

"You are worthy foe, Star Child," Darkchylde concedes, her blood pumping with exhilaration at the hunt and fight he had put her through as she stabs at him. She'll miss this feeling once he's dead.

"Well thanks," he drawls as he deflects her attack. "You're not so bad yourself," he finds himself complimenting her.

Darkchylde pushes her attack, making Clark retreat backward on the ledge. She deflects the axe upward before aiming a spell at his feet. Hands composed of the rock rises up and grab his ankles before another shoots out from the rock face grabbing his wrist wielding the axe, holding him firm.

Darkchylde smirks as she saunters forward, swaying her hips, her tail swishing. Clark lashes out a punch with his free hand. She catches it before wrapping her tail around his wrist to hold him. A clawed finger than draws a trail down his cheek. "At last. You're mine," she proclaims, almost lustfully in triumph, her eyes glowing intensely.

Clark's eyes narrow. "No. I'm not," he argues. "Because you've already lost."

Darkchylde arches an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"I don't need to use my hand," he says as he opens his hand and releases the axe and it smashes her on the side of her head, staggering her right to the edge. Using War's powers the axe cuts Clark free and he kicks Darkchylde hard in the side, sending her over the edge.

Then it's like Clark realises what he's doing and makes a grab for her, only managing to snag her golden necklace. It can't possibly hold her weight...which it doesn't. The chain snaps and over she goes. She vanishes into a passing cloud of...whatever the clouds here are composed of. Clark doesn't think it's water vapour.

Clark stands there hardly able to believe what he did. He then looks down at the necklace in the shape of a golden snowflake.

A memory strikes Clark. It was after Magneto 'died' and they were at that base in the Sahara. Clark chased after Colossus after putting his foot in his mouth and Piotr talked about how Magneto made him work for the Master of Magnetism, talking about his sister.

"I call her my little snowflake because as each flake is unique and special so is she."

Superman smiles. "That's lovely," he remarks about the sentiment behind Colossus' choice of nickname.

"I even gave her a necklace with a small golden snowflake attached once. She always wore it...and now she's gone," Colossus says, his heart broke.

"Snowflake necklace," Clark breathes as he makes the realisation. He looks down into the cloud below. "Illyana?" he queries.

"Wow," War remarks. "Never saw that coming."

Can't be. She can't be that little girl Piotr was always talking about. Emphasis on the little. That was no little girl. That was a woman...a demon-woman to be sure. One that has been trying to kill him repeatedly. Most certainly not a little girl and not Piotr's sister that he just kicked off a mountain, possibly to her death.

Luckily Clark doesn't have time to dwell on what would be overwhelming guilt. The hordes are coming. He shoves the necklace in the pocket of his tattered pants, puts the axe back on his back and starts to climb once again.


Is the girl once known as Illyana Rasputin dead? Of course not. She can teleport.

But now she finds herself back in her Master's castle explaining her latest failure to kill the Star Child. He's not happy at what has become a repeating theme. Her continuous failures to bring him the body of the being of prophecy.

Darkchylde grovels on her knees in front on his throne upon which he sits. "Forgive me, Master. I swear I will kill him even if takes me an eternity."

Belasco looks down at his failed apprentice, his expression dark, contemplating her punishment.

His thoughts are interrupted by coughing. Black Swan.

"Prophecy, remember. You can't kill her until she kills the Star Child," she reminds him that only Darkchylde can kill the Star Child...or at least that is what the white-skinned woman claims.

"I remember," Belasco says, his tone angry. "But she will be punished for this failure," he assures them all.

"Yes, discipline, important, got it. Why don't you leave it to me," Black Swan proposes. "I'll ensure she's properly disciplined...plus she needs more than that. Some more...enlightenment on how to destroy the Star Child which my vision can bring. The old carrot and stick approach."

Belasco makes a noise of disgruntlement. "Very well," he agrees with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But I expect severe discipline," he warns, pointing his finger harshly in Black Swan's face.

"Of course," Black Swan humours him. "Come, Darkchylde. Lets us depart," she orders.

Darkchylde rises to her cloven feet and follows, her head bowed.

"Oh don't do that," Black Swan says as they walk through the corridors. "Don't shrink. You're a demon sorceress and more than that you're a woman. Head held high with pride please."

"B-but my Lord Belasco..." she actually stutters.

"Can kiss my ass," Black Swan says.

Darkchylde smiles at that a little.

"I don't have time for his medieval punishment crap. Neither do you. What is important is that you learned something from your last encounter. Did you?"

"I underestimated him. I thought his powers long ago exhausted," she berates herself for being sloppy.

"Oh that wasn't his power," Black Swan explains. "There's a dark entity dwelling inside him. This place brings it out."

"Like me?" Darkchylde queries, her tone piqued with curiosity. She use to be the dark entity inside a human. She knows that much. This place brought her out and as time passed and she got stronger, as more of her soul was taken...the human side of her...she can barely recall it exists at all now. It's reversed. Her human side...it's become like the tiny voice inside her.

"Kinda...but hey, I warned from the start this would not be easy," Black Swan reminds her. "Plus I know for a fact you've been having the time of your life. You were always moaning about the lack of a challenge."

"That is true," Darkchylde says as her glowing eyes brighten as she remembers the hunt of these last few weeks. This has been thrilling beyond anything she has ever experienced. She feels...so alive when she's hunting him, fighting him, avoiding his cleverly laid out traps. He's clever and cunning and courageous and a skilled fighter...and she is loving it. She's almost going to be sorry when it's over. He has done a very rare thing and earned her admiration and respect. In fact he may be the only one who ever has. She then remembers some bad news. "He took my necklace," she confesses. "I'm...sorry. You told me never to lose it."

"He has it now?" Black Swan queries.

Darkchylde nods sullenly.

"I'm not pleased," the white-skinned woman states clearly. "However, I'll let it go if you get it back."

"I shall. I will not fail you, Black Swan."

"See that you don't," she warns sternly. "So where is he? Still in the mountains?"

"That would be my guess. It'll be harder to track him up there."

"Ah what's life without challenges though?" Black Swan asks the demon-sorceress to contemplate. "Tell you what why don't you try and get some sleep. Rest up before resuming the hunt," she suggests. "He can't leave this realm so a few hours won't make any difference."

Perhaps Black Swan is right. She could do with a rest.


So to her bed she goes, slipping under the covers. Her room was a testament to her nature. The walls lined with shelves full of ancient books. She has a studious nature in part.

There is a small part of it that reflects what remains of her human side. It's more a subconscious décor choice really. Unnecessary nick knacks and colour here and there. Things that are sentimental...which is a human quality. Not a demonic one.

Her demonic side was more reflected through the varying weapons on the walls and the trophies kept of her vanquished enemies, their heads, varying other body parts...which is not sentimental but a warning to any who dare challenge her. Plus she can use them in spells, like to power the magical glyphs which also cover her walls, floor and ceiling. Wards to protect her. There isn't a being here who wouldn't try and slit her throat given half a chance so they could replace her at Belasco's side. Which is why she makes certain they never get even a sniff of a chance.

Her room...was always the one of the 'nicer' ones. Her loyalty to her Master had been rewarded.

It means the bed is...an acceptance to the fact she is still human enough to need a comfortable place to lie her head. It's a four-poster deal.

Darkchylde closes her eyes and tries to get some rest. Tossing and turning a few times until she finds the right position.

Ah. That's better.

She's not alone.

She can sense it.

There's someone in her room.

Impossible they could get through her wards...but she won't let them know she's aware of them. Let them think she is helpless. Lure them in.

Closer...

Closer...

Now!

She rolls over and kicks out...hitting them in the stomach, driving them back.

Darkchylde springs to her feet. "Star Child!" she roars.

He grins lopsidedly at her. "DC," he greets her. "Did you really think you were the one doing the hunting?" he asks her with a wolfish grin and predatory look.

Darkchylde ignores that shiver of lust that look brings to her. "You've made a mistake coming here," she promises, the threat clear.

"To use a phrase that's rapidly passing its sell-by date; Don't write cheques your ass can't cash. Not even as nice and shapely ass as yours."

Darkchylde wastes no more time on pointless banter and attacks him.

But every attack he blocks or dodges as they dance around the room almost. This can't be right. He's not this good nor fast.

Finally she manages to tackle him and they land on her bed, rolling around but he manages to pin her beneath his large frame...and hold her there despite her struggles.

She looks up at those piercing blue eyes...staring right into her.

That look is like...like...those eyes. Those eyes haunt her...taunt her. Every battle, every fight they have had, the memory that sticks out the most is those oh so blue eyes looking at her with such intensity, like he's looking deep down inside her for something more than what is there.

And for what? What are they looking for?

"The real you," he answers as if reading her mind.

"I am what you see."

"Are you?" he asks her as if he knows something she doesn't...and those eyes. They're still looking at her.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like...like..."

"You're beautiful and desirable. Why? It's what you secretly fantasise about isn't it? This...position we're in now, isn't this what you want?"

"No," her voice says weakly, her denial lacking strength. It wasn't just the eyes either that were having an effect on her. He had a warrior's toned body and this scruffy beard and an internal voice calls it a tousled bed look...and it was so...so, damn sexy. There she admitted it. Part of her truly lusts after him so yes, part of her has wanted this.

He releases his pin. "Ok, then. I guess we finish our fight to the death."

He starts to get up off her...and next thing she knows she has grabbed him, pulled him back down, her lips locked in desperation with his. Growls of lustful pleasure escape deep from her throat.

Clothes get discarded, hands and lips skim across skin...and then when the moment comes they become one.

Darkchylde gasps at the feeling of him inside her...and he's still looking at her with those eyes...those eyes filled with lust and pleasure and want.

Want of her.

And she wants him too...desperately.

And then they're moving together. Skin slipping against skin. His hands locked with hers.

Both of them giving as good as the other...and this is what deep down part of her wants. Not to be dominated or to be the one dominating. But to find an equal. Someone who will accept her as she is. Someone she never has to hide any part of herself from.

And somewhere deep down she knows that is all he seeks too.

That's what his eyes are always looking for. To see the real her and in return for her to see the real him under all the masks.

And soon...too soon...far too soon she can feel the delightful knot form inside her.

It snaps. The pleasure inside her explodes beyond her dreams...

Darkchylde snaps up in bed with a huge gasp as her body is racked with waves of pleasure rolling through her. It takes her a minute.

Beyond her dreams?

It was a dream.

She covers her face with her hands and waits for the last electric shocks of nerve tingling pleasure to dissipate.

She takes a few deep breaths.

There's only one answer to this.

"I am so going to kill him," she swears with a growl.


In his hiding place up in the mountains Clark wakes up with a gasp and the last tremors of orgasmic pleasure wash over him.

He takes many calming breaths. "Holy crap," he swears. Now he's what? Having wet dreams about the demon trying to kill him...but she's not a demon is she. Not really.

Clark doesn't know what she is or how she has become this way. All he knows for certain is that she is...or certainly was once upon a time Illyana Rasputin. He has enough time to think it over and he's completely convinced that it is her.

"Toldya you had the hots for her," War says smugly.

Clark would retort...except for the rather sticky mess in his pants that says otherwise. Dammit! He can't possibly have the hots for her. Ok, so he has previously admitted he admires and respects her...and sure she's got a great body...which she doesn't cover with very much...and turns out he does like blonds...or at least he likes her long, curly blond hair and the way it frames what is a very pretty face...and for some reason beyond reason he kinda digs the tail.

Oh double damn.

Ok, fine, she's hot. There! He admitted it.

He also has to admit that he has now officially completely flipped. There's no other explanation.

Or is there?

In Clark's hand still lies Illyana's snowflake necklace and for a moment he swears it glows.

He doesn't have time to think on it as many growls signal the demon hordes have found him.

"Company," War tells him.

Clark pockets the necklace and grabs his axe before exiting the cave he was in. This is not good. They have him cornered in this steep valley.

"You want me?!" he shouts at them. "Here am I!" he almost dares them to come at him...and of course they do.

The relentless demonic hordes charge down upon him and in response Clark charges right back at them. The only escape he has is to cut a path through them.

So they meet and Clark wades into the mass, axe swinging but there are just so many...and he is also just getting angrier and angrier and angrier at it all.

The contrast from that dream only minute ago to now...

And the angrier he gets the more Clark slips away and the more of what you see is War delighting in the bloody slaughter as blood spatters all over Clark...but he's hopelessly outnumbered this time. This time they have him.

Eventually the numbers tell as weapons and claws slice into his body and he drops to his knees, beaten, the hordes closing in for the kill.

He spots the snowflake necklace on the ground, having obviously fallen out his pocket. He takes it in hand as his last act...a strange voice echoes in his ears...the necklace glows super-bright...like the sun.

The demons bring their weapons in for the final blow...only for them to stop, centimetres from hitting home, all glowing green. They get ripped from their hands by an unseen force before they turn on their previous wielders slicing them apart...and they keep going and going until the floor of this valley is littered with the corpses of their former owners.

Only one being remains alive and that being rises to his feet...only it's not really the man he was any more. It starts quietly before it expands into a full creepy maniacal laugh.

"Someone's happy. And that someone I name thee War."

War...for it is War turns and looks up. "Patricia Swan," he says the name of the woman standing at the steep entrance to the valley. "It was your voice I heard speak...and then next thing I know Kent is gone," he explains what happened. Clark's just gone and he's alone and in charge.

Black Swan shrugs. "Must be something you're holding," she says with a knowing amused grin.

War looks down in his hand. "The necklace?" he queries.

"I cursed it long ago to repress Darkchylde's human side...and now I activated it to do the same for you. It does mean you must hold on to it but small price and all for control wouldn't you say."

"Why?"

"I told you. I'm carrying on my father's work."

War arches an eyebrow. "And now what? I owe you?"

Black Swan snorts. "Heavens no...but you must understand this...and I think you do considering who your Master was. I've been planning all this for decades. I foresaw all of this and have waited for you, War," she explains.

"Waited for what exactly?"

"He who sits on the throne of Limbo inherits its powers and its armies. Tell me what could you do with such power?"

War takes a moment to think on it and concludes, "I could finish the Great Apocalypse's work."

"Assuming you can get through Darkchylde and her Master of course," Black Swan adds the caveat.

"Oh trust me I can," War assures her.

"But I can help," she says as she signals with her finger for him to come near.

War does so.

"By the way love the beard," she has to say about the one that has grown in his time here. Even with it Clark is very handsome...only ruggedly so now. Of course no Clark at the moment...all thanks to her. It's all part of the plan. Just like how convenient it was that when the demon hordes finally cornered Clark, Darkchylde was away resting...just like Black Swan had ordered her. She cracks open time and space and steps through.

War follows.

On the other side they stand over a valley down in which an army of demons, making preparations for war.

"All those attempts to usurp Belasco these last few years...I instigated them," Black Swan confesses. "It was all a distraction. Sacrifice a few while I build my army...or more correctly your army."

War grins impressed. "Oh Patricia...you've been a bad, bad girl haven't you."

Black Swan chuckles. "Depends how you define bad. Personally I think I'm doing the right thing."

"Still not seeing why you're doing this," War presses her for a better explanation.

"Long ago Magneto transformed me and I fell into the cracks between reality. I saw the patterns of fate. I learned. I saw what my place was and what I must do. Sounding familiar no?"

Yes. That sounds like his Master who also saw and knew his place, his purpose. It is fate they are together. She has been sent to him to aid him in finishing what Apocalypse started. It can be the only explanation.

And War shall finish his Master's work. Make no doubt about that.

The throne of Limbo shall be his and then he will return to Earth with the armies of Limbo in tow...oh, those poor pathetic residents of Earth, they don't have a clue what's coming for them.

All the better to determine who is worthy of existence.

Only the fittest shall survive!


At the Institute...

It was the end of the day now and all attempts to find Clark...or Lois for that matter had failed so they turned to the more unconventional means.

Tarot and her ability to see through her cards.

Marie agreed to try with the warning that Clark was a very difficult subject to get a reading on so here she sits at the Professor's desk, laying her cards out...shaking her head in a not too hopeful manner. "It's just like I warned Claire before. Fire and death have come for Clark. He is now in the grip of darkness and he is beyond our help. His fate lies in the hands of the scheming daughter."

Claire's face grows pensive. Damn, damn, damn, she was hoping somehow she could prevent that. Seems she has failed.

"What about Lois?" Chloe asks, being one of several people in the room. She was naturally worried over her cousin.

Marie turns a card over. "She will return...a little wiser perhaps...and that's all I can see...oh no," she says as she turns another card over.

"What is it Marie?" Charles asks.

"Is it Lois?" Chloe asks in worry.

Marie shakes her head. "No. No. The new arrivals...they're in trouble. Death is coming for them...tonight," she says urgently.

"New arrivals? You mean the new mutants in District X?" Scott seeks to make clear.

"I think so, yes. We need to go. If you want to save them we have to get over there now," Marie tells them.

"Scott...go," the Professor orders.

"On it, Professor," Scott assures his mentor as the Professor sends out the telepathic message to all the X-Men that an emergency has arisen.


Limbo...

War and his demon army supplied by Black Swan lay siege to Belasco's castle. It was like a medieval siege with catapults and siege towers. It was all glorious.

In large part it was due to Black Swan who was inside because her scheming couldn't be revealed just yet.

Her last words to him had been that she had never been here and they had never had any sort of conversation.

What a twisted little schemer she is. War admires her a lot.

Who he doesn't admire is Belasco, hiding behind his walls.

The coward.

Just because War already whooped his army and sent it in retreat in disarray doesn't mean he shouldn't be out here defending his kingdom.

This is why he's going to fall and War will claim his throne.

The only person worth his respect is Darkchylde who held the line the longest in the battle that preceded this siege before she too was forced to retreat.

No, he really does respect her. It was the one thing he and Clark agreed on...well before Clark was pushed aside.

Actually speaking of Darkchylde where is she?

Since she was forced to retreat he hasn't seen her. Leading the defence has been Belasco's 2 lieutenant demons.

Instinct tells him that the fact he can't see her is either really good; she's injured or dead or it's really bad; she's up to something.

As if to illustrate his point beneath the catapults and siege towers fire erupts...explosions destroy them and punch huge holes into his lines...and pouring out the holes comes Darkchylde leading her own army.

"Clever girl," War comments in admiration. She must have built tunnels right out from under the castle to underneath his lines. It's impressive how quickly she did it. Then again time doesn't seem to mean much here from what he has observed.

Grabbing the axe off his back War does what he does best. Wage war.

"Arh! Darkchylde!" he roars as he charges into battle directly at her.

The fierce warrior that she is turns to meet him head on.

Soulsword against Horseman enhanced axe clash in a fierce, bright burst of energy as all around them their armies slaughter each other.

"Or should I say Illyana Rasputin?" War questions.

Darkchylde's face twitches. That name. She knows that name from somewhere. She shakes it off and resumes her task. Defeating the Star Child as is her destiny.

War smirks. He saw the twitch. There's still some residue left, some familiarity left of Illyana. He can use that to his advantage.

The two continue to fight, twirling and slashing and clashing in a fight of extraordinary skill and ferocity as around them their forces continue to clash in bloody slaughter. No ground given or taken. For right now stalemate.

"You're good Illyana...but you can't win," War taunts her. "I am War incarnate."

"Why do you call me that?!" she demands to know as she sends a stream of brimstone at him with a sweep of her sword.

War ducks out of the way. "Because it's your name, Illyana. The one stolen from you. Join me, Illyana and I'll help you remember everything you use to be," he offers. Does he mean it? In War one uses all sort of tactics to confuse their enemy.

"I will never join you," Darkchylde asserts. "I am destined to destroy you!" she vows as she attacks him again.

"Funny thing destiny," War comments knowingly as his axe grinds against her sword and their faces lean in...almost touching above where their weapons meet. "Illyana Rasputin...I served someone who was destiny manifest into flesh. You cannot win for this is not how Fate has written my end."

"Fate can be rewritten," she determines.

"Not by you...Illyana."

"Stop calling me that!" Darkchylde snaps before her eyes finally notice her necklace around his neck. "That's mine!" she roars.

"Not any more," he denies her.

Darkchylde inhales and sends a stream of mystical energy from both her mouth and her eyes...forcing War to stagger back...the heat scorching his skin...though not as badly as it could. She charges at him but he deflects her off, sending her rolling across the ground until she comes to a stop in a crouch, ready to pounce.

War's face grows determined. "Let me show you what true power is Illyana Rasputin. I am War...and all its instruments are merely tools at my command," he declares as he raises his axe above his head.

Darkchylde's glowing eyes narrow.

Around the battlefield fallen and broken weapons, swords, spears, axes, arrows daggers, shields, pieces of armour, all start to have a green glow form around them. They begin to vibrate and move...together, coalescing, forming a shape...a rough shape of a knight in armour wielding a sword and holding a shield. It's like an irregular 3d jigsaw.

A really, really big one. Like Sentinel sized.

"Lets call him my Knight of Pieces shall we," War sniggers, deeply amused. "Now Illyana. If you will not join me then you will meet your destiny."

The construct moves toward the demon sorceress, crushing all, friend and foe alike, who get in the way under its giant feet.

Darkchylde raises her Soulsword, the fire around it builds higher as she prepares herself for combat.

The giant, jerky moving construct brings it sword down to strike her.

Darkchylde flips backward out the way as the impact kicks up the ground. With a growl she charges forward, leaps, lands on the sword and starts to climb and jump her way up the arm, the chest, to the shoulder.

Her Soulsword flames brighter still as she slices into the 'head'. Of course it's not a literal head. The whole construct is made up of thousands of bits...and if necessary she'll hack her way through every little bit until it's nothing but a broken, smashed heap of metal.

War makes the gesture of a hand reaching for her and his construct follows his movements and it grabs Darkchylde.

Ancient, spoken words pass her lips and the 'hand' starts to dissolve to dust.

She drops free...only for War to have his Knight snap its shield round, striking her hard, sending her flying until she impacts the castle walls and punches a hole right through them.

"Oh look a way in!" War announces. "Lets give Illyana a hand everybody! Get it! A hand!" he jokes as he gets the Knight to wave around it handless arm.

Nothing from anyone...but to be fair they are busying trying to slaughter each other.

War repairs the hand and has it lift him atop his creation's shoulder. He then has his army move in behind as he marches on the walls...and then has his Knight smash right through them at the damaged spot where Darkchylde punched through it.

His Knight marches into the courtyard within as his army swarms in through the broken defences.

It's only a matter of time now until the Throne of Limbo is his.

"Oh Belasco!" War calls out. "I'm calling you out, bub! Come face your death like a man!"

And high up one of the inner towers the red-skinned Hell Lord appears, dressed in black armour, a large black sword in his hand.

War chuckles manically. "Before you die you want to know the ironic part of all this?" he asks.

Belasco tenses, preparing for battle. He will not surrender his throne without a fight.

War explains himself. "If you had not brought me here I would have never known of this place's existence or yours. The prophecy that I will destroy you...you've made it self-fulfilling through your own actions," he points out, laughing at the irony. What a loser.

War has his Knight slash down...only to watch Belasco block the huge sword with his own. War sweeps the shield round in a slicing motion...through the tower beneath Belasco's feet.

As the tower crumbles to pieces the Hell Lord runs and leaps for the battlement walls lower down.

The Knight slashes down ahead, smashing the walkway to pieces before doing the same behind Belasco.

"Nowhere left to run boyo. And it seems to me your power is fading because I've seen nothing yet from ya. Want to explain that?" War asks...then waves it off. "Know what. Don't care. Just makes it all the easier to kill you."

War is correct. Belasco's powers are fading. He's been cut off from his throne somehow. That's why he hasn't been leading the battle, leaving it to his apprentice. He doesn't know how this has been done but when he finds out who was behind it he will kill them in ways that are horrific even by Hell's standards.

And the person responsible for this? A certain white-skinned woman who watches on from the battlements atop the tallest tower. Like she said she's been planning this for a very long time. Learning all of Limbo's secrets, Belasco's strengths and weaknesses, figuring out how to render him powerless at the right moment...and that moment is now. And soon, oh so soon, her decades of planning and scheming will reach its inevitable conclusion. Time and space crack open behind her as she steps back. This is the moment for her to not be here...as all will see why shortly.

Down on the ground a large stone block rocks back and forth before being flung aside as Darkchylde pushes herself to her feet. She shakes her head with a small growl. Luckily she just about managed to conjure up a mystical shield before she impacted the wall. Still stunned her though.

She looks up and sees her Master in trouble.

No. This is not how will it end.

She quickly searches through her memory of every dark spell she knows. This constructed Knight...its pieces are just metal. Limbo metal...and everything in Limbo possesses a faint magical energy, a residue...and she's got it!

She knows what to do.

A stepping disk forms around her and she vanishes into it.

"If only my Lord Apocalypse was here to see this moment," War laments sadly that his Master is not here to see how far he has come. He readies his own axe to finish the task at hand personally. "Time to die!" he announces gleefully to Belasco but before he can...

"War!" there is an angry roar.

War snaps his head round as Darkchylde leaps out a stepping disk high above, flaming Soulsword in hand as she slams it into the back of the Knight construct...and from the impact point it seems like the flames of her sword start to spread outward...and it is, using the residual magic in the metal as a conduit and on and on it goes until the entire construct burns bright...and brighter and brighter...and there is only one inevitable outcome to this chain reaction.

One War realises in horror and rage. "Darkchylde!" he screams in defiance.

Darkchylde's last expression is a triumphant smirk as the construct explodes.

The force blasts the stronghold of the Ruler of Limbo apart. Warring demons on all sides are blown apart or crushed as the walls of the castle come tumbling down.

When it is over a dead silence falls over the now tumbled down ruins of the structure.

The silence is only broken by the crackle of numerous fires and the last groans of the dying.

Like Tarot foresaw. Fire and Death.


Author's Note: Ah, that Black Swan. She's a bit of character ain't she. All that scheming...and really whose side is she on? Well her own obviously but I wouldn't say that every screw up there is tightened properly. Clark is gone and War has returned fully all thanks to her. Though Illyana may have just ruined everyone's day. She's awesome isn't she. Thanks to everyone who wrote reviews. Next up; Who survives in Limbo and the battle for District X begins.