Chapter 15
It's easy to be skeptical about our chance for understanding. We are, in our own ways, similarly guilty for this untenable situation. The only light I see in this blinding darkness is that we all die together. The Earth was our shared cradle… and it will be our shared grave.
-Quote attributed to Hades; spoken during his trial for gross negligence and dereliction of duty
Ingvild sighed in relief as she finally set down everything she was carrying. Unfortunately, Dragon King Tiamat did not seem interested in allowing her a moment to rest.
"Go put on your activewear," Tiamat told her. "We don't have much time to waste."
"Hold on," Percy interceded, "can't she at least have dinner first?"
The Dragon King looked at Ingvild with a raised eyebrow. "If you want to vomit it all away, be my guest. If not, leave the food for later."
Ingvild swallowed thickly. "I'll—I'll just leave that for later."
The Dragon King nodded. "Good call." She turned her eyes toward Percy, as if to say, 'there you have it.'
"All right," Percy shrugged. "No skin off my bones. I'll have something ready for when you two get back. Hope you like beef stroganoff."
"I'm looking forward to it," Tiamat said agreeably.
With that, Ingvild once more took up a bag and carried it away to the bathroom. She locked the door once inside. Her head ached something fierce, and when she turned the lights on to look at herself in the mirror, Ingvild noted how haggard she appeared. Nearly two hours in the labyrinthine metropolis called New York City had taken a visible toll on her.
This is Tiamat's fault, she thought. Planting her hands on the vanity's nigh-reflective top, Ingvild allowed herself a few deep breaths. That Dragon King will be the death of me…
Tiamat's argument for introducing her to the modern city was, unfortunately, a sound one. Simple, too. Ingvild had no clothes except for those the Dragon King loaned out. She certainly needed something else to wear. Furthermore, it would be a good way to ease her into the idea of living in the twenty-first century. When Percy had agreed with Tiamat's thinking, Ingvild could only reluctantly go along with their plan.
Of course, Ingvild had not been prepared for her proper introduction into the current era. They had taken her into the heart of an alien city, flitting between massive buildings made of metal, concrete, and glass. Strange automobiles of all sizes and colors clogged the roadways, choking the air with clouds of noxious exhaust. Then came the people in all their numbers and forms, and the lights that switched on as night fell. By the time they reached the market—"mall," as Percy called it—Ingvild was dizzy from her time in the city.
As fate would have it, the "mall" was no easier to acclimate to. With so many shops and so many people, Ingvild had been overwhelmed by one look.
Thankfully, Dragon King Tiamat made it a point to help in her selection of clothing. This as Percy had gone off on his own in the "mall" to give them time and space. In the end, after no small amount of confusion at the fashion trend of current-day New York City, she'd managed to choose several garments that suited both her tastes and desire to blend in.
Ingvild rubbed her eyes. She changed into the activewear Tiamat had insisted upon and folded the outfit she'd borrowed from the Dragon King. Stepping back, she took a moment to examine herself in the mirror.
During her time outside, she saw many women wearing trousers. According to Tiamat, trousers were quite popular in many countries these days. Now that she had a pair on, Ingvild could say they were quite nice, despite their purpose as athletic clothes.
She ran a hand over the fabric of her top. That Percy had purchased these items for her… All the more reason to find a way to repay him. However, in order to get to that point, she first needed to help herself. That's why she would endure Dragon King Tiamat's tribulations. She was no use to anybody in her current state.
Steeling herself, Ingvild nodded at the mirror and spun around, exiting the bathroom with bated breath.
Back in the living room, Percy was sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep.
Had she been gone that long? There was no way. He must have been dead on his feet to fall asleep so quickly. Perhaps the day had been a long one for him already.
Ingvild's gaze lingered on him for a few seconds. Whatever dream he was having did not seem to be pleasant. His expression was a far cry from peaceful, seemingly on the verge of becoming a snarl or scowl. One hand was thrown under his head for support, while the other was wrapped tight around a pen on his stomach.
"Are you ready?"
Ingvild turned to find Tiamat leaning by the front door. She nodded and followed the Dragon King out of Percy's home. Before they could move down the hall, Tiamat turned and tapped the door with a finger.
A web of glowing strings sprang from the point of contact, spreading across the door in the blink of an eye. After a moment, the strings began to fade away, quickly leaving nothing in their wake.
Magic. This was the kind of power she needed.
"I should have known," Tiamat muttered.
Ingvild noticed the Dragon King wrinkle her nose. She tilted her head. "What's wrong?"
"A new ward was placed on Percy's apartment." Tiamat flicked the door, causing the glowing strings to appear again. She clicked her tongue. "Heaven's brand of magic. Yahweh created a robust method of sorcery that is still considered second to none when used defensively. Seals and wards were his specialties."
"Heaven's magic... Percy isn't in danger, is he?"
"He is."
"Huh?"
"But he's always in danger," Tiamat said. "While I doubt that Heaven has anything malicious planned for him, there are less scrupulous dangers to worry about."
"Is it all right to leave him alone?"
"Strange as it sounds, I do trust him to stay alive. Percy's battle prowess is more formidable than I'd first suspected. You are our main concern right now."
"I'm sorry—"
Tiamat interrupted. "I recognize you aren't to blame. You were raised as a human girl during a relatively peaceful time in your nation's history. What need did you have for learning the art of battle? And that you are now willing to adapt to these circumstances which are out of your control… well… I respect you for taking the first step, insurmountable as it may have seemed from your position."
While it wasn't necessarily Tiamat's respect she was after, Ingvild felt somewhat reassured knowing she had it.
Continuing on, Tiamat said, "For your own safety, though, you shouldn't leave Percy's apartment without either of us. Preferably me, but Percy would make a decent enough guard dog if push comes to shove."
Ingvild cocked her head. "Percy is… frighteningly strong, isn't he?"
"He may seem that way to some," Tiamat said while leading her away from Percy's home. "I'd call him good enough. And that's all you need most of the time. To be good enough. But being good enough doesn't deter people. Let them fear you instead. Be better. Less blood spilled that way. Of course, if you enjoy fighting, then you can remain good enough."
I'll have to be better than good enough, then, Ingvild thought morbidly. What exactly did "good enough" mean to somebody like Tiamat, though? The implication made her shiver.
"Does that scare you?" the Dragon King asked. She looked over her shoulder. "It does, doesn't it?" When Ingvild nodded, she smiled coldly. "Good. Fear is an excellent motivator. That you feel fear is a boon for us."
"Who wouldn't be scared?" Ingvild found herself asking.
"The insane," Tiamat answered immediately.
Ingvild smiled wryly. "I suppose that means I have my wits. For better or worse."
Tiamat stopped at the line of windows looking out over part of the city. They had arrived back in New York at sunset, and their journey through the market had taken more than enough time to let darkness claim the sky. "By that logic, I suppose I lost most of my wits with age, then. Until a short while ago, I had forgotten fear's touch."
"If you don't mind me asking… um… how old are you?"
"Older than most of the named gods. Older than all dragons sans one or two. Older than ancient. A majority of my life spans a time before farming became widespread."
"You were alive before the human race existed?"
"No. Humans were already on this Earth by the time I coalesced. That was… ah, I've lost track of the years. Hazarding a guess—seventy thousand years ago. If human theories are correct, then they predate me by about two hundred thousand years. Their species, I mean." Tiamat glanced down either side of the hallway. Satisfied that they were alone, she gestured to the floor, where a glowing circular pattern began to fade into existence.
Ingvild looked at the Dragon King. She recognized the pattern as a magic circle, identical to what Tiamat had used to bring them back to Earth from the Underworld. Moving between locations instantly was certainly useful and novel, but the experience itself was less than pleasant.
"We can't stay in the city for what I have planned," Tiamat explained. "If certain groups think you're up to no good, they'll gladly be rid of you. New York is home to a dozen secret societies of all types, from the Third American Vampire Coven to the New England Illuminati. That's not even mentioning the substantial presence of Christian exorcists. Keep your head low, and you'll be fine. Cause a ruckus, and you'll disappear. The powers that be support the status quo, as it allows them to continue operating. Exceptions apply only to the most powerful, such as myself, though even then I feel the need to tread carefully. I can't keep my guard up indefinitely, after all."
With her piece said, Tiamat shepherded Ingvild onto the magic circle.
"Where are we going?" Ingvild asked.
"A quaint little place I found while exploring the world centuries ago," Tiamat said as the circle beneath them activated its magics and whirled them away.
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"Before we start, there's something I feel I must say."
Ingvild opened her eyes again at the sound of Tiamat's voice. They were no longer in New York City; that much was for sure. Instead, they were standing in the bowels of a valley. A small river ran beside them, pressed flushed against the slope of a stunted mountain range that trailed around to each cardinal direction. Grass and dwarf trees were their only company in the dead of night here.
Unlike humans, Ingvild could see perfectly well at night due to a devil's preference for the dark. It hadn't always been that way though. Once upon a time, darkness like this, without light from the moon, would have been enough to effectively blind her.
"Listen, and listen well. You are no fighter—that much I think is obvious." Tiamat's voice and mien were frosty, edged, and direct. "You may not want to fight, you may not want to kill, but if you have any self-respect or any respect for the people who have sacrificed for you, then you will heed my words. Am I clear?"
"Yes," Ingvild muttered. She felt small as Tiamat narrowed her eyes. "I… Yes, I—I understand."
The Dragon King crossed her arms. "I'll be blunt in that case. Ingvild Leviathan, you have no right to die. You have no right to choose death. So you must fight, and you must live, regardless of what those around you might say. That is your burden for as long as you draw breath. Life is a journey we must make. No matter how unpleasant the path becomes, I want you to remember that you have a duty to yourself… to complete that journey. Walk until you can walk no further. Never let anybody else decide where your weary bones have their final rest."
Ingvild, unsure of a proper response to such a tirade, simply nodded at Tiamat. To an extent, she knew this was a complete and utter rebuttal of what Percy had said earlier. Where he saw options, Tiamat saw obligations.
It was strange the more she thought about it. Her eyes fell on the Dragon King's hands, though both were free of rings.
Well, it wasn't as if she had expected them to be married.
Whatever their relationship, she figured the values of two people were never bound to be entirely aligned.
Tiamat glanced at the sky with its million-star canopy. "That's enough preamble. We'll begin with the very basics." She cocked her head away from Ingvild. "Punch me."
"Um…" Ingvild clenched a fist but hesitated, not even taking a step forward.
"Do it." Tiamat's voice brooked no argument.
So she did, closing the distance slowly before throwing her arm out. Her knuckles caught Tiamat's jaw. The woman didn't so much as flinch. Ingvild, however, bit her lip to keep from groaning. She may as well have punched the side of a mountain. Her hand throbbed, quickly filling with a burning sensation that made her worry about all the small bones she could have broken. Retreating a few steps, Ingvild cradled her injured hand, doing her best to keep a straight face.
Tiamat gave her a bland look. "What a shame."
"You're…" Ingvild sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, wincing as she tested her fingers. They all moved, thankfully, but brought sharp pain with each twitch. "Too strong."
"That's not the problem," Tiamat rebuked. "This is a fine demonstration of how far you will have to go, if only in your mind. You're a devil now, Ingvild. A devil with plenty of strength. The demonic power within you can be used in various ways, but one of the most fundamentally important is using it to bolster your body. I have a similar type of hidden power to enhance my own physical traits. Without this application of your demonic power, you'll be as vulnerable as a regular human. Worse, anything 'holy' would be immediately debilitating to you. By shielding yourself with demonic power, you have a better chance of surviving all sorts of nasty business, and better yet, you'll be able to actually harm your enemies. Understand?"
"I think so…" She frowned at the obvious question. "How do I use my demonic power?"
Tiamat held her hand out. A flame appeared in her palm, then quickly grew to engulf her fingers and wrist. "Where humans these days use calculations, the likes of you and I can use our imagination to perform all sorts of phenomena. Take this fire, for example. I need only picture the fire's properties in my mind to create it. You can do the same."
Ingvild took that as an invitation to recreate Tiamat's feat. She lifted her arm and looked at her uninjured hand. "So I just… think about fire?"
"That's about it," Tiamat said. "Focus on your task entirely. You should be able to feel the warmth, see the shadows cast by the flames, all before you actually bring forth the fire itself. If you can't, then your imagination isn't strong enough. Essentially, you're overriding reality with just your mind and energy."
Nodding, Ingvild closed her eyes. She put aside her doubts for the moment. If Tiamat thought she could do it, Ingvild would have to do it. Learning how to use her power was not optional.
Anything to feel like more than just a burden. She wasn't sure how much more of that she could handle.
Fire. Fire. I need fire.
She recalled every fire she had ever seen. The fireplace at her home, the accidental fire at the shoe factory, the inferno that swallowed the Leviathan manor—she saw them all again, felt the heat cracking her skin, and only then did she open her eyes.
There, on the lines of her palm, she willed forth the fire, concentrating her memories, crystallizing them, forcing them to manifest. There was a vague sensation of movement in her arm, as if she could feel the blood flow through her veins, and then…
Fire.
The flames sprung from nothing but her material imagination.
Suddenly, the heat was real. Ingvild yelped and shook her hand, extinguishing the fire before it could travel up her arm and consume the rest of her body. She suppressed a shiver and stared at her palms for a while, then looked up at Tiamat.
The Dragon King smiled crookedly. "Very nice. For somebody who knew nothing about demonic power until a few weeks ago, you pick up on it quickly. That's excellent. Now, you may have realized that creating something with your demonic power doesn't necessarily mean you control it."
"I noticed."
"That is why most devils use magic circles in conjunction with or instead of their demonic power. Magic circles often have prescribed ways to control the sorceries you may call upon. We won't get into that today, but we will in the future. The idea behind the fire was to introduce you to a tangible example of using demonic power."
"What else will we do today, then?"
Tiamat gestured to her chin. "You're going to punch me. More than once, probably. You'll keep punching me until I feel something. Then, once I'm satisfied with that, I'll punch you. We'll keep it simple today."
Ingvild regretted asking.
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"Answer me something, if you can."
Ingvild groaned as she forced herself up from the ground where she'd been lying. Everything ached, but for some reason, Tiamat had been particularly fond of punching her in the belly. Her muscles there protested angrily at the smallest movement, and as Tiamat had promised, she had thrown up. More than once, at that.
The Dragon King, on the other hand, looked none the worse for wear. Ingvild had spent the better part of an hour simply running her fist into Tiamat's body, yet there she still stood, imposing and monumental as ever. The Dragon King's mere presence demanded attention from those near enough to perceive her. She was larger than the monolithic buildings in New York, and the shadow she cast loomed menacingly at the best of times.
"I think I can," Ingvild croaked.
"Once you have the power you need, what will you do with it?"
Ingvild managed to frown. The question didn't make sense. "Do with it? I need it to protect myself… isn't that what I'd do with it?"
After all, she only chose this route because Tiamat and Percy had agreed it was the best choice. They had more experience with these sorts of things, so she trusted them to lead her along.
"I mean your aspirations beyond simply living. Have any?" Tiamat sat down on a fallen log. She pulled her hair back and cocked an eyebrow. "Humans tend to set goals for themselves, right? Living for but a single century… I suppose that's a blessing and a curse for them. The urgency must be maddening. Humans have been insane for longer than I have been alive. Yet, as a devil, you don't have to worry about that as much. You'll live for thousands of years. Whatever goals you set for yourself can be accomplished in time, at whatever pace you wish to set."
Ingvild swallowed thickly. She looked down at her hands, trembling as they were, covered in dirt and scrapes from the times she'd fallen. She would look exactly the same as she did now in a thousand years if she so wished. Yet, the world would not be the same.
One thousand years ago… she imagined castles and walled cities, small farming villages, wandering knights, peasants toiling for kings—nothing she would call familiar. She couldn't imagine living through one thousand years. Yet, her natural life would stretch even farther than that.
What would she do for all that time?
What did she want to do?
She couldn't remember. Or maybe… she'd never actually known. In the first place, she'd never really worried about those kinds of things. She had only ever expected a traditional life.
But she was apparently meant for more. Her safety could not be afforded indefinitely by another person. Not her parents, not her spouse, not even God. She could rely on others for a time, but the burden would always be hers, directly or otherwise. Her conscience could only bear so much guilt.
The precipice of eternity had been laid bare before her. In any other life, she would have assumed the Devil to be bargaining with her. Not here, though. Here, the Devil was none other but her, so far from God's grace that she could not utter his name.
Then, did that mean she was evil? Was she meant to oppose the Lord?
Impossible. While she was far from pure in thoughts and actions, Ingvild didn't feel as though she was evil. Surely she erred no more than the norm.
If her purpose was not as His adversary or His child… what was it? What did she want it to be?
"You can help people, Ingvild. I know you can."
Was there something beyond that, though?
Ingvild started when she felt a hand touch her chin.
"The answer is never easy," Tiamat said. The Dragon King was kneeling before Ingvild, lifting her head so their gazes could meet. Her fingers seemed to run hot on Ingvild's skin, and her eyes were the richest shade of blue on Earth. For just that moment, infinitesimal as it was, the Dragon King was right there at eye level, presence no longer as sheer and towering as a cliffside. "That's especially true for people like us, with long lives. I didn't ask to distress you. My curiosity simply got the better of me. Even so, I'll add to my earlier piece. You get to decide where your weary bones rest—and what made them weary in the first place. Power gives you the right to choose. I'll help you gain the power needed."
Tiamat's words drifted through Ingvild's head. There was still something fantastical about the Dragon King.
Ingvild's eyes flitted to the Dragon King's mouth. She felt her face grow warm. Her ears burned especially hot. A sinful thought—in more ways than one—crossed her mind.
Lord forgive her.
This was not the first time such a perverse desire had manifested, and while her first kiss had been shared with the cobbler's son under the glow of warm candlelight, Ingvild knew her heart was wayward in God's eyes for the affection it gave men and women alike.
However, she knew better than entertaining such flights of fancy. The Dragon King's gentle touch certainly made her heart pound, but indulging in her desire would do neither of them any good.
"What… What if I make the wrong choice?" Ingvild asked, once more directing her gaze at Tiamat's own.
"You can't. Heed my words, and you can't make the wrong choice. Recall, your only duty is to yourself." When Tiamat smiled, it was a far cry from cold or sarcastic. It was a small thing, delicate but steady. She pulled her hand away. "Besides, if I ever felt my pupil was making the wrong choice, I'd be more than happy to lecture them to my heart's content."
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They arrived back at Percy's apartment sometime later with little fanfare. Tiamat grumbled about the new ward placed by Heaven's own and its interference with her magic, but all that meant was Tiamat had cast a short-lived cloaking spell before teleporting them to the hallway outside Percy's home.
Thankfully, it seemed they hadn't woken Percy when he opened the door for them and invited them back inside. The rich scent of cooked meat greeted Ingvild as she passed the threshold, causing her to reconcile the pain in her belly as a combination of hunger and blunt force trauma.
"Good timing," Percy said. "The food's still hot. I don't know if you'd rather eat first and clean up later or…"
"You know my choice," Tiamat said, patting him on the shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.
Ingvild limped after Tiamat. She gave Percy a weak smile to show her gratitude. "I think I'll eat too."
"Uh, yeah, sure thing." He gave her a quizzical once-over. "Looks like you went through the wringer. She didn't go too hard on you, did she?"
"It was hard," Ingvild admitted.
"She didn't heal you up with those Phoenix Tears?"
"I didn't feel the need to pamper her," Tiamat called from the kitchen, where she was already serving herself. She pointed a fork at Percy. "Ingvild is made of stern stuff. I won't disrespect her by insinuating her hard work is easily overcome by certain conveniences."
"She'll always find a way to lecture me, huh?" Percy muttered as the Dragon King turned to the food.
Tiamat didn't bother facing him. "Pardon? You'll have to speak up."
Percy grimaced, then gave Ingvild a conspiratorial smile.
Ingvild laughed softly. Between Percy's concern and Tiamat's praise, the aches became more tolerable.
The three of them ate together. It was a late dinner, and her appetite had been somewhat dulled by her earlier vomiting, but Ingvild savored the atmosphere as much as she did the food.
The television was on in the background, the kitchen still emanated a faint warmth, and they spoke about nothing of great consequence.
With how dark her world had become, this small light shone extra bright.
Author Note: This is shorter than usual because I wanted this separate from the time skip that's coming next chapter. Just felt right. I'm also trying to pick up the pace because... well, you all know already. We've gotta get to the big stuff eventually, right?
Thanks for reading.