The Burning City

Elizaveta made it a habit to celebrate holidays with the people she looked after. And although it required her to be more careful when near hostile dedicates, the holiday was worth the risk.

But as she sat in one of Drachma's many squares, her enormous wings tucked politely behind her, she felt something shift in the city. The wild abandon of celebration altered to an overpowering sense of terror. Perhaps the frantic dedicates she'd seen running about all day were the cause. Most of them wore Gilbert's colors. Elizaveta pondered what plot the god was concocting.

When the sun slipped away and the great temple bells began to toll, Elizaveta had stopped with the rest of the city. Something was happening—something big.

The echo of the bell rolled across the city. Everyone, including Elizaveta looked to the sky and waited to see what the tolling heralded. Elizaveta counted heartbeats after the ringing had faded into the night.

One…

Two…

One the third beat of her heart, the blasts erupted from all around the city. Pillars of light and smoke rose, making the rising moon glow red on the horizon. Elizaveta felt the fire in her blood, and the chaos rapidly taking hold of the city was sliding into her heart, filling her with the Drachmans' fear.

She turned to try and calm the citizens around her, but her efforts were interrupted as the buildings by the water burst into flames. The ancient wood buildings crumbled before Elizaveta could process what was going on. As they fell, sparks and tongues of flame jumped onto the old, crammed-together buildings.

This must be Gilbert's doing, she thought, staring helplessly as the panicking civilians shied away from the flames that surrounded them. With a furious scream that sounded more hawk than human, she raised her great wings and took to the air.

The heat from the inferno lifted as if she were just another spark dancing up to the sky. The pine-scented smoke stung her eyes and choked her breath, but she circled the city.

There were a few places that seemed untouched by flames. One of the older slums near the top of the city, the southernmost docks, and the areas around the temples. The temples made sense, if this was an attack by the gods. But to leave the docks and especially one poor slum untouched? What was Gilbert playing at?

In her quick survey of the city, Elizaveta saw what made the flames so deadly in this watery town. They traveled through the canals on thick slicks of oil. Whatever the oil clung to so did the flame. Pockets of damp just made the oil fire spit furiously, spreading further.

Her people were dying, burning and choking. She would find Gilbert. And when she found him, she would tear his heart out for doing this to her people.

Alfred watched the distant glow grow into an inferno and he'd never felt more useless. For all that they'd stopped one trap from being sprung, more went off without a hitch and now the city burned.

Gilbert stood beside him, staring at the rising flames with a look Alfred could not decipher.

"What do we do now?" Alfred asked.

Gilbert didn't answer for a long time, and Alfred worried he hadn't been heard.

"Gilbert?" Alfred said. "What—"

"I heard you," Gilbert said. "I don't know."

Just as Gilbert finished speaking, a scream ripped through the air. A large figure dropped through the smoke and landed on top of Gilbert, knocking him to the ground. An enormous wing buffeted Alfred. He stumbled back as the ball of raging daemon clawed at Gilbert, never ceasing her awful apian shriek.

Alfred tried to get in close to help, but Elizaveta's massive wings kept his at bay as she attacked. Gilbert, though caught by surprise, managed to get one of his daggers out and between the two of them. The metal of the blade sizzled where it touched her skin, but that just seemed to drive the woman into a deeper rage.

"Alfred!" Gilbert shouted.

Alfred took a page from the daemon's own book and came at her from above. He dropped like a stone, letting his momentum tear Elizaveta off Gilbert.

Which left him to grapple with the angry daemon.

Elizaveta took a swing at Alfred, trying to get a hold of his neck. Alfred barely fell back out of the way, but her sharp fingernails scratched his cheek, drawing blood.

"We're not your enemy here!" Alfred shouted at her as she loomed over him. If she heard him, she didn't seem to believe him or care. She drew a sharp obsidian dagger from her belt, and was about to lunge at him when Gilbert knocked her off balance from the side.

"Listen to the boy," he shouted. Elizaveta rounded of Gilbert, a snarl on her face.

Alfred scrambled to his feet and held empty palms out to her. "We're on the same side, Elizaveta."

She glared as Gilbert sheathed his dagger and raised his own hands.

"Why should I believe you?" she said. "You ravaged this city only months ago with the rest of your kin." Gilbert looked at the ground guiltily. She chanced a second look at Alfred and seemed to recognize him.

"You are Arthur's human friend, aren't you?" she asked, though her eyes never strayed from Gilbert for more than a second. "I remember you. You saved him from the war goddess during that attack."

Alfred latched onto that. "Yes! I'm Arthur's friend! I was exiled from Caelei because I saved him, and then I lived in Albion when I visited him, but then he got mad at me. Still he came to save me when I was trapped in the god's clutches!" Alfred held up his crippled wrist to show her. "Arlya tortured me while I was there. And now I'm working to stop the gods from killing all the daemons. He's my best friend!"

Elizaveta spared him a startled look. "I didn't need your life story. But if you were captured by the gods and Arthur saved you, why are you with them?"

Alfred hesitated at that. "It's a long story," he said sheepishly.

"Longer than the one you just told me?" Elizaveta asked with a bemused shake of her head.

"So do you believe us?" Gilbert asked. "We don't have time to fight each other."

"Maybe," she said, glaring at him. "If Arthur can confirm you're story, then we will be allies."

"No—!" Alfred said, but it was too late. Elizaveta sent out a shriek that felt like it pierced Alfred's very being. The sound rippled out, louder than the roaring of the flames and extended to the far reaches of the world. In a moment, the forms of the other high daemons appeared. As they arrived, they shouted and covered their faces against the heat. Arthur was the last to arrive, but only by seconds.

While the other daemons stood confused, Arthur spotted Alfred and immediately leaped towards him. Alfred tried to brace himself from whatever unexpected attack Arthur was springing on him. But there was no attack. Rather, Arthur stopped just short of Alfred, gave him a quick once-over, and then abruptly embraced him.

"I think this is more affection you've shown than in all of the rest of our acquaintance combined," Alfred remarked, but enthusiastically returned the embrace. Despite the danger they were in, Alfred felt a warm stillness wash over him now that Arthur was here. A point of calm in the chaos of the city.

"I was worried that evil woman had hurt you more," Arthur said into Alfred's neck.

"You really do care," Alfred said fondly.

"I don't know what gave you that ludicrous idea," Arthur said, though his warm tone betrayed him.

Alfred squeezed Arthur back as hard as he could. "I missed you too."

"Well I suppose that answers my question well enough," said a voice from behind them. Elizaveta, along with Ivan, and Natalia, stared at them. She nodded towards Gilbert, who still held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Alfred says he's on our side," she said.

Arthur looked at Alfred, who nodded.

"He wants this to stop. We can trust him."

"I believe them," Arthur said, which seemed like it was good enough for the others. Though they weren't happy about it.

"Speak then, God," Natalia said. "What is going on?"

Gilbert sighed. "We don't have time for this," he muttered to himself before giving the daemons the short version of the god's plans.

"That means you should get out of here," Alfred said.

"They're murdering my people," Elizaveta said.

"Let the gods come," Ivan said. "This war has dragged for too long."

"If you stay, you're just playing into their hands," Alfred said.

Elizaveta turned to face the rising inferno. "What do you want me to do, human? Leave? Let my people burn for me?"

Alfred didn't have an answer to that.

Elizaveta nodded at his silence. "I will defend them, and do not be so certain of our defeat."

Alfred looked to Arthur. As their eyes met, they knew what the other was thinking. The prophecy.

"You can't stay," Alfred whispered to Arthur. Arthur shook his head.

"I can't just run while innocent people are dying," he said. His eyes clouded with emotion as he held Alfred's gaze. "And neither can you. You're too much of a bloody hero."

Alfred seemed to deflate. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen," he said, his voice hushed so only Arthur could hear him. Though even to himself he sounded resigned.

"We can't waste any more time!" Elizaveta said.

"Wait!" Gilbert said. The eyes of the daemons shifted to him, heavy with suspicion. Gilbert ignored them.

"They're here," he said. As soon as he'd spoken, figures appeared in the smoke. They moved with deliberation rather than the panicked haste of the Drachmans. The Aenean soldiers had arrived.

As Alfred watched, one drew a sword and cut down a man and two children who hadn't noticed him in their rush to escape the city. In moments, more calm shadows appeared in the smoke, all as deadly as the first.

"We have to get the citizens out of here," Gilbert said.

The daemons exchanged a glance, seeming to send an entire conversation through eye contact alone. With a solemn nod, they looked up at Alfred and Gilbert.

It was Elizaveta who spoke to them. "My low daemons are coming," she said. "Get people to the southern most docks to be evacuated. We will take care of the Aeneans."

With a war cry and a huge sweep of her wings, Elizaveta took to the air. Ivan and Natalia soon vanished into the fray, leaving Arthur, Alfred, and Gilbert alone.

Arthur turned to Alfred, speaking directly to him. "We'll give you as much time as we can, but as soon as the Aenean army is here, you need to get out."

Alfred's eyes widened. "You're going to do magic—"

"Shh!" Arthur said, glancing at Gilbert with distrust. "It's going to be dangerous. If you're in the city, you'll die just like the soldiers."

Alfred nodded. "How long do we have?"

Arthur turned towards Gilbert. "God!" he shouted.

"I have a name," Gilbert complained. Arthur ignored him.

"How long until the entire Aenean army is within the city?" Alfred asked.

"It's a big army," Gilbert said. "Maybe few hours?"

"Fine, then. A few hours, then you need to be out."

"No," Gilbert said. Arthur prickled, but Gilbert cut him off. "If we're going to evacuate the whole damned city we need more time. Give us until dawn."

"Alright," Arthur said. "But as soon as it's dawn, you better be out. Unless you want to die the same death the Aenean soldiers will meet."

"Understood, daemon," Gilbert said.

Arthur turned to leave, then hesitated. "Alfred," he said, looking back. He seemed to fumble with his words, but finally managed to say, "Stay safe."

"You too," Alfred said. There was so much more he wanted to say: You're my best friend, or I don't want to live in a world without you so please don't die. But as Arthur left, he felt a hollow cavity open in his chest, consuming words he dared not voice.

"Look out!" a Gilbert shouted, snapping Alfred from his thoughts. Through the smoke came a line of figures. They were far too calm to be civilians.

Alfred hastened to swing his rifle off his back. "Keep them off me," he called to Gilbert.

When Alfred and Gilbert showed no sign of moving, the Aenean soldiers charged. Most of the bore pole arms, which would have given them an advantage over Gilbert's short daggers had he not been a god.

As Alfred jammed the lead slug into the rifle barrel, Gilbert danced around the soldiers, evading their strikes and retaliating when he could sneak into an opening. He dispatched a few soldiers in this manner, but the sounds of fighting brought more to replace the fallen.

Soon, one of the fallen corpses tripped Gilbert, sending him sprawling. A soldier, their face obscured by a helm, rushed forward to spear him. Such a blow would not kill a god, but it would hurt—and more importantly, render Gilbert useless in saving the southern citizens.

Before the blow could land, an explosion ripped through the air. The soldier above Gilbert was thrown back, armor shattered. A woman's scream rose through the smoke. Alfred stared down the smoking barrel of the rifle as the soldier flailed in the dirt and ash before she finally fell quiet. Around the fallen soldier, her companions panicked from the blast of the gunshot and the damage it had done to their fully armored companion.

In the disarray, Gilbert managed to regain his feet. Alfred barely registered Gilbert walking towards him. His eyes were locked at the body lying in front of him.

"Alfred," Gilbert said, his voice pitched as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. "Alfred," he repeated when Alfred didn't respond. "Don't look at it."

Alfred's eyes whipped to meet Gilbert's.

"I did that," he said, then turned to resume staring at the mess of torn armor and blood. "I killed her."

Gilbert sighed. "This really isn't the time to feel bad about killing someone," he said. "Especially a soldier."

Alfred didn't have time to think more on it as one of the tenements around them finally gave out under the inferno. Gilbert and Alfred fled the cloud of ash and sparks that rose from the skeleton of the building.

The screams of citizens drew their attention. On top of a small hill, several children huddled in the bones of a burnt out shack. As Alfred drew closer, he noticed the bodies of several adults, one of which wore Aenean armor. The Drachmans must have fallen while protecting the children from the soldier. The shrieked and the biggest child waved what must have been the soldier's short sword.

"We're here to help!" Alfred shouted. Gilbert parried the child's swipe and grabbed her wrist. Alfred took the short sword from her. She screamed in response and flailed at Gilbert, who still held her.

"Calm down," Gilbert said, trying to sooth her. "It's okay. We're here to help."

The children looked like hell, covered in ash and what was probably their parent's blood. When Gilbert did nothing but hold their impromptu leader still until she calmed, their fear ebbed away.

"You're not going to kill us?" one of the little boys asked. "Like they killed my da?"

"And my brother," another, tiny boy added.

Gilbert shook his head. "No, we're going to get you someplace safe," he said.

The girl in Gilbert's arms started screaming. "There's more! There's more! They're going to kill us all!"

Alfred looked over to where the girl stared with wide-eyed terror. More Aeneans in shining plate strode through the burning city towards the group of children. Along with those wielding spears, their leader had a long sword.

"Al!" Gilbert called. "I can't take all of these kids at once. "Can you hold them?"

Alfred glanced at the girl still screaming in Gilbert's arms. A warmth he'd never felt before flooded through him. In a rush, a fury rose, dispelling the horror of killing that clung to his mind.

"Go!" he shouted at Gilbert. "I'll hold them off!"

With a crack, the god and several children were gone, leaving Alfred alone to face down the oncoming soldiers.

He swung the rifle off his back and reached for the powder. He wouldn't have enough time to reload at the rate the soldiers were coming. He turned over his shoulders at the huddled children.

"Can you slow them down?" he asked. The children looked at him with blank terror. "Throw rocks or wood at them? I just need a minute."

The children glanced between each other. Then one bent and picked up a rock from the road. With a grunt, he hurled it at the soldiers. Aided by their superior position, the rock flew far and hit one of the soldiers in the chest with an audible clang. It clearly didn't do much more than irritate the soldier, but the sound of rock hitting armor seemed to light a fire in the children. Soon they were screaming curses that would have infuriated their parents while pelting the oncoming soldiers with whatever debris they could get their tiny hands on.

When the rifle was finally reloaded, Alfred yelled for the kids to get back. They retreated behind him obediently. When the pelting stopped, the soldiers shouted and charged.

Alfred propped the rifle into his shoulder and looked down the sight. He aimed at their leader, but they charged in a snug group. Even in the likely event that the bullet fly off course, he'd hit flesh.

"Eat this, you bastards!" Alfred shouted. His aim was true, and in the same instant that the rifle cracked, the sword-wielding soldier was blown off his feet, a hole ripped through his armor and his chest.

The children around Alfred screamed at the sound of the bullet, but quickly recovered when they saw that it was the soldiers who this machine of war was aimed at. Though the surprise of the bullet scared and scattered the oncoming soldiers, they were professionals. They raced up the road, too fast to give Alfred time to reload again.

"Stay behind me!" he shouted to the few remaining children. Stooping, he picked up the bloody short sword from the bodies at his feet. He may only be able to use one hand, but it was better than being cut down while reloading the rifle.

Alfred had another advantage—Elizaveta's attack on Gilbert had given him an idea. With a swift kickoff, he gained some altitude on the soldiers, which both startled the soldiers and kept him out of reach of their spears. The short sword was awkward in Alfred's hand that had only been trained with daggers. Nevertheless, its increased heft worked to his advantage as he dropped on the first soldier. He easily batted the spear away and let gravity sink the blade into the gap in the soldier's armor he'd seen Gilbert target.

The blade ripped into the soldier, and carried both of them to the ground. Alfred yanked the blade free of the soldier's corpse, but already the others were closing on him. Twisting, Alfred barely managed to dodge the sharp edge of a spear, catching the solid wood across his shoulder. The blow sent him sprawling and the sword tumbling from his grasp.

Alfred scrambled, trying to get airborne. One of the soldiers knocked him back and raised his spear for the killing blow. Alfred braced for impact.

But it never came. An enormous battering ram of smoke collided with the soldier, unnaturally solid despite its wispy appearance. It screamed its fury, a terrifyingly human sound. The remaining soldiers scattered, fleeing the creature's thrashing.

Glowing orange eyes settled on Alfred once the soldiers were gone. Alfred got to his feet and the low daemon made no movement. As it stood still, its smoky form settled into that of a giant antelope, its great antlers bared.

"Thanks," Alfred said, bowing his head to the creature. It raised its head, and examined him. After a moment, it seemed to acknowledge Alfred as an ally. It looked with concern at the corner where the children had been. None remained.

Just as Alfred was following the daemon's gaze, Gilbert reappeared.

"That's the last of them," he said, then seemed to notice the enormous creature behind Alfred. The beast narrowed its eyes at Gilbert, huffing through flared nostrils.

"Woah, girl," Alfred said. "He's on our side."

The daemon gave one more snort than turned away from Gilbert, pointedly ignoring him.

"I suppose this is our backup," Gilbert said. He turned to Alfred and said, "Those children are safe."

"Out of the city?" Alfred asked.

Gilbert nodded.

"Then we move on," Alfred said. "Where next?"

At the question, the daemon made a strange cry. Alfred and Gilbert turned to it.

"I think she has an idea," Alfred said. He considered for a moment, then picked up the short sword from where it had fallen. "Could you take us?" he asked.

The daemon kneeled down, and with a whoop, Alfred pulled himself onto the daemon's back. Despite its wispy appearance, Alfred could definitely feel the creature's solid bulk beneath him.

"Come on!" he called to Gilbert, who as if Alfred had asked him to cut off his own leg.

"I'm not riding that!" he shouted.

"Don't be stubborn, Gil!" Alfred said impatiently. "She knows where to take us!"

"Fine!" Gilbert said, and suddenly he was seated behind Alfred on the daemon's back. "But I don't have to like it."

"Let's go!" Alfred shouted. The daemon cried along with him, and charged forward. The daemon was much taller than even Gilbert, and its long strides ate the distance. The daemon knew the streets of the twisting city, and they took many lost soldiers by surprise. Enemies screamed as the daemon lowered its head and mowed them down with its antlers. The cold metal of their armor made the creature's flesh smoke and filled the already acrid air with the reek of burning peat moss. The daemon was too enraged to care about its own injuries and continued.

The three of them found pockets of survivors, and Gilbert took them to safety as Alfred and the daemon took care of the soldiers.

Time became meaningless in the routine of charging, fighting, then charging again. Even the daemon was looking worse for wear when they finally left the treacherous alleyways for an open square. Despite their exhaustion, Alfred, Gilbert, and the daemon lifted their heads to listen. Screams were coming from nearby. It was time to return to the fight.

Alfred gulped as he saw a great wall of flame between them and the screams. One of the canals lay before them, they oil slick burning high. With a war cry, the daemon ran for it at a full tilt. Alfred and Gilbert shouted and clutched its back as it leaped the canal. Flames licked the daemon's belly, but otherwise, it made the jump without seemingly any effort.

On the other side, the smoke was less thick, but the open square they had landed in was a war zone. Alfred and Gilbert slipped off the daemon's back and threw themselves into the fray. The two found a rhythm that worked. Gilbert was everywhere at once, letting Alfred drop the heavy blows from above, then covering him as he recovered his footing and his advantage. When they wore down the Aenean army to give the Drachman civilians room to breathe, Alfred took a moment to retreat back to them. He looked upon faces filled with terror and rage. They looked at Alfred, and recognized that the lack of heavy armor marked him as a friend.

To the side, the low daemon stood, looking at Alfred expectantly. Alfred nodded at it, then turned to the Drachmans.

"We need to get as many people out of the city as we can," he shouted over the roar of flames and fighting. "The daemons will carry you to safety. For those who don't get carried out right away, make your way south. There are boats and daemons waiting to take you away from the city!"

"I'm not running from these northern bastards!" a young woman shouted. She held a spear in her hand with an ease that suggested she knew how to use it.

"You need to get out of the city!" Alfred repeated. "The high daemons are planning something to take care of the invaders, but if you're here when it happens, you'll be killed too."

"Elizaveta sent you?" the girl asked, her eyes narrow. "How do you know you're not sending us into a trap?"

Alfred grunted in frustration. He had no time for this. "I arrived here riding a freaking daemon!" he shouted, pointing at the daemon.

The woman considered that, and turned to the people around her. "You heard the boy!" she yelled. "We'll load that daemon up with children, then push south."

"Al!" Gilbert shouted from behind him. The god was surrounded by more soldiers than he would be able to hold off for long on his own. With a final nod at the Drachmans, Alfred flew towards Gilbert, using his momentum to bulldoze a few soldiers away from Gilbert.

"We'll hold them off until they get a decent head start," Gilbert said.

Alfred's trip to send the Drachmans on their way had cost them their advantage, and the superior number of soldiers kept the two on the defensive despite their individual superiority.

When Alfred nearly lost his head to a sword swing, Gilbert grabbed him. "That's enough of a head start," he said, and with a crack, he and Alfred were gone.

They reappeared on top of one of the temple roofs. The smoke hit Alfred like a brick wall and he doubled over coughing. Pulling his sleeve across his mouth, he managed to catch his breath. Gilbert peered through the smoke and sparks, seemingly unbothered by either.

"It's almost time," he said, turning his eyes skyward. Alfred couldn't see anything through his smarting eyes, but he believed Gilbert.

"Has it really been hours?" he asked.

"Weird what the thrill of fighting does to time, isn't it?"

"What are the daemons planning?" Alfred wondered aloud.

Just as he voiced the question, the earth roared. Alfred and Gilbert flailed for balance as the temple tilted.

What remained of the burnt out buildings crumbled as the earth shook beneath them. The cobbles and bricks of the footpaths sank into the ground. The ground shuddered then liquefied. The flames gave their last burst of sputters as the mud choked it out. Screaming filled the night air as the ground swallowed the city of Drachma.

As the earth that held the temple's foundation vanished, Alfred and Gilbert spilled with the falling building. Instinct kicked in for Alfred, and he leapt into the air, and grabbed onto Gilbert. The god shouted as the peak of the temple came crashing towards them. Just as it would have knocked them straight into the sinkhole, Gilbert vanished them.

They appeared just out of its way, and crashed into the sludge as the temple crashed beside them. Alfred flailed, trying to take to the air, but the sinkhole swallowed him and he was falling into thick, dark water. He tried to kick his way to the surface, but the more he struggled, the more he sank. His lungs began to burn, but he kept his mouth clamped shut. Water pressed into his nose like cold fingers, trying to pry their way into his air-filled cavities.

Just when he thought he couldn't keep those cold fingers from strangling him, a hand pressed down through the thick water and snatched at his head. It took an immense effort, but Alfred managed to shove his hand up to meet it. The hand clasped onto his and heaved. The sinkhole didn't want to release Alfred, but slowly gave him up.

Alfred's shoulder popped from the strain, a sensation he felt rather than heard. His mouth opened in a scream and immediately flooded with water. He barely managed not to inhale any. Finally, with a final pull, Alfred was above the surface.

"I told you to get out the city!" Arthur shouted, his voice shrill.

Alfred spit out the water in his mouth and managed to wipe the sludge from his eyes. Arthur had pulled him up on the toppled tower that poked out of the mud hole that had recently been City of Drachma, the jewel of the south. Now the canal city was leveled. The structures that hadn't been devoured by the quaking earth stuck out at odd angles like ribs from a decaying carcass.

Alfred looked at Arthur, who was as filthy as Alfred felt, making it clear who his rescuer was. Despite his angry shouting, Arthur scrambled over to Alfred and started examining him for injuries with gentle fingers.

"I think you did something to my shoulder," Alfred said.

Arthur nodded. "Did it pop?"

"Yes."

With a swift motion, before Alfred could protest, Arthur popped his shoulder back.

"Fuck!" Alfred gasped. With a shudder, he collapsed back into Arthur.

"So," Arthur said. "Why didn't you get out of the city in time?"

Alfred shrugged the shoulder that hadn't been dislocated. "We lost track of time," he said. Looking around, he couldn't see much in the pre-dawn grey. After the constant roar of the burning city, the quiet felt like a physical presence. "Where is everyone?"

"You lost track of time," Arthur repeated, shaking his head. "I should have known it was something as stupid and avoidable."

Alfred felt his exhaustion in his very bones. He felt like he could sleep for years and still be tired. "It's not my fault they weren't keeping the time. Whoever was in charge was probably busy with the whole city burning down thing."

Arthur snorted.

"You didn't answer my question," Alfred said. "Where is everyone?"

"Elizaveta saved our godly ally. The other daemons and Gilbert are around nearby. The people we managed to save are gathered along the lakeshore. The nomads had caravans outside of town, and they're providing care and shelter to those they can."

"So we did it," Alfred said.

"We survived the night," Arthur agreed.

Alfred looked at Arthur, for the first time noticing how terrible he looked. At first, he thought it was just that he was soaked and covered in black mud. But as Alfred looked closer, he could see Arthur tremble.

"Are you alright?" Alfred asked.

Arthur looked up at him with glazed eyes. "It just takes a lot out of us," he said.

"The magic?"

Arthur nodded.

Alfred crawled closer to Arthur, and pulled him into his arms. Arthur collapsed, his breathing shallow. As the grey half-light lifted into true dawn, Alfred buried his face in Arthur's hair.

"It's going to be okay now," Alfred said. "I'm going to take care of you, like you've done for me so many times."

The first strings of sunlight crawled over the eastern horizon, bathing the world in new light. Cracks like lightning broke over the city.

The gods had arrived.

A/N: Just one more to go. Sort of. Thanks to those of you who left a comment! You guys rock my world!