Barlocke had been beautiful, once.

It had been years since anything substantial had grown in the soil. Years since anyone – Alexios included – had felt the satisfaction of a full belly. Nephilim were not exempt from the effects of The Rot and all it touched, after all, and though Alexios knew he and the rest of Barlocke were tough, people were still dying.

Determination could only get you so far when you were starving to death, after all.

Alexios himself had been guilty of that mindset, once upon a time. Had thought that maybe, with enough grit and hard work, they'd make it through. If they'd just keep pushing, then maybe…

The smell of decay hung heavy in the air. Trees were withered up and the soil was bone dry. People died without families to bury them.

Barlocke had been beautiful… once.

It was still difficult to leave it behind, as unrecognizable as it was. For as long as he could remember, Alexios had been tasked with the protection of his Province, and he had done it gladly. Leaving felt like a betrayal. Leaving felt like abandonment. Leaving felt damning.

Leaving felt necessary.

Despite having been prepared for a call from the King for years now, Alexios had still been unmoored by it. Tamiel was straightforward but gentle when he'd broken the news – his old mentor had been sent as a messenger, and he was glad for it. He didn't think he'd want to hear the summons from a stranger. Although he hadn't seen the other Nephilim for years, Tamiel had been gentle when he'd broken the news, and had allowed Alexios a moment to absorb and feel what he'd needed to feel. But he hadn't tried to talk him out of it - only reminded him that the road ahead would be a difficult one. That, of course, wasn't news to Alexios. Difficult or not, the road ahead was one he had to take.

Three days. Each Nephilim was requested to show up at the castle in three days.

Alexios made it to the capital in about twelve hours.

Driven by adrenaline and a strange excitement, he'd grabbed a few essentials, said his goodbyes and rushed to the wall. It was an ugly thing, hastily erected some twenty-odd years ago in an attempt to corral the adversary within. Alexios supposed it had done a good enough job of it so far, but it was obvious that it was decaying, corroding, withering away like the rest of the land. That was probably why they'd been summoned, he'd wager, for fear of the beast escaping.

They should have been summoned earlier, in Alexios' opinion. It should never have been allowed to get this bad in the surrounding Provinces. How it had gotten to this point, he had no idea. It was shameful.

Alexios had never been to Soiron, as far as he could remember. The entire city had been evacuated by the time he had turned ten, corrupted entirely by Rot and unable to sustain life. But people had told him stories of the Capital, of dances and feasts and streets lined in all manner of flora from overseas. It had been far fancier than anything they'd had in Barlocke, from what he'd heard.

This was no longer the case.

There was a ghost of something beautiful, in the architecture and layout of the streets. It was dark out, illuminated only by the watery red light of the moon overhead, but even still it was easy to imagine people bustling through the streets, chatting and working and carving out lives for themselves. Alexios' boots crunched the cobblestone underfoot, littered with inky vines and Rot and what were unmistakably bones. Likely stragglers who hadn't evacuated when they should have and starved as a result.

The buildings were taller than Alexios had expected. It made him feel small – made his wings ruffle with the desire to fly him over the city instead. But one glance at the sky, dotted with black figures circling overhead, told him that that might not be the wisest choice. Better not to be eviscerated by demons before even having the chance to see the adversary, let alone actually kill him.

"Damned demons," he muttered to himself, wrinkling his nose in distaste and ignoring the slight flare of phantom pain that ached above his right hip at the reminder of their existence. Just the sight of them had the familiar flame of rage settling in his chest, righteous anger that burned with no end in sight. But it would dissipate soon, he assured himself – as soon as he buried his sword to the hilt in the adversary's heart.

Then he'd rest. Then he'd be satisfied.

"They are out in droves tonight."

The new voice was unexpected, and though Alexios did not jump, it was a near thing. He whipped his head to the side, hand twitching toward the sword on his hip, and was surprised to find himself staring up at the source. Alexios was tall – about six feet – but this man had a few inches on him.

Tall, broad, and silhouetted by reddened moonlight, the stranger looked rather imposing. His hair was a pale golden blond, matching the wide set of wings on his back almost perfectly. And though it was difficult to tell in the dark, Alexios imagined that his eyes were blue. Handsome, surely, which threw Alexios off guard for a moment.

Just because he was handsome, however, did not mean that Alexios was in a talking mood.

"They are," he responded curtly and continued on his way, hoping that the other man would get the hint and back off.

He did not.

"I did not expect to run into another Nephilim so quickly," the stranger stated, tone jovial. His accent was thick and rough in the same way that Alexios had heard from the traveling merchants of Sarlet and Taves. All rolling r's and throaty noises that didn't sound as abrasive as they could have.

Alexios cut a glance at the other man, striding alongside him as though he'd been invited to do so. "Neither did I," he said.

"Which Province do you hail from?" the strange man responded, clearly not picking up on the shortness of Alexios' tone. "Nearby, I assume?"

"Barlocke."

He looked delighted, a broad smile gracing his chiseled face. "Good people in Barlocke!" he announced, as though he knew from personal experience. "Very strong, very resilient. Your Province and mine would get along, I think."

Well. If there was any way to get on Alexios' good side, it was to speak highly of Barlocke. He could feel the pride swelling in his chest already, loosening the tension in his shoulders and puffing out his wings. Barlockians were indeed good people – the best, actually. "…Where are you from?" he asked, deciding to throw the guy a bone. What could it hurt, really?

"Sarlet." Well, that explained the accent. The blond chuckled and gave his wings an experimental flap. The waning moonlight colored them red. "It took me more than a day to fly down here. My wings are quite sore."

"I'm surprised someone from Sarlet got here at the same time I did," Alexios mused, stepping over what looked to be human remains, laid out across the cobblestone paths. "Did they send for you earlier?"

"Perhaps," said the larger man, glancing back up to the sky. Alexios wondered if it was strange, being down from the mountains like this. Soiron was about the same elevation as Barlocke, and while Barlocke was livelier – had people still bustling around the streets and trying to survive, Alexios didn't feel as out of place as he thought he was going to. "I was given four days to arrive at the castle."

"I was told three," Alexios said. "They must've sent messengers to the outer Provinces beforehand."

"That makes sense – Sarlet is much further away than Barlocke, after all." A little more than a day's journey, in fact. It was impressive that the other Nephilim had arrived so soon – he must have flown nearly nonstop.

Alexios pointed out as much. "You got here quickly, even with an extra day."

"So did you," the stranger said, offering him an inviting smile. It looked good on him, Alexios thought, a little spark of interest igniting in his chest. He didn't particularly enjoy talkative people, but this man wasn't overly so, and he wasn't getting on his nerves like Alexios had first expected him to. Talking to him was almost nice.

"I am… eager to complete this mission." That was a bit of an understatement, if Alexios was being honest with himself. He'd been itching to do this for years now.

The blond hummed. "I can imagine," he sympathized. "Barlocke suffered greatly from Rot, didn't it?"

"It did. Does. Will continue to, unless…" Unless Alexios carved the heart from the chest of the evil thing that had started it all. "…This will fix that."

"Well, I am glad to hear that I'm not the only one looking forward to ending this whole ordeal," the other man said, still smiling. "Sarlet has not suffered nearly the devastation Barlocke has, but it's best not to let it get to that point, don't you agree?"

Sarlet was fairly low on Alexios' priority list so long as Barlocke was safe, but he wasn't going to say that to the other Nephilim. Instead, he said, "I plan on being the one to kill it."

"Oh?" The stranger's eyebrows rose, and he shot Alexios an unreadable glance from the corner of his eye. The smile still lingered. "Ambitious, aren't you?"

"That's not…" Alexios trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

They walked along in silence for a few moments before the other man prodded for an answer. "Not what?"

"It doesn't matter." Alexios shook his head and kept his eyes straightforward. "It must be me who does it."

This was a competition, after all. He wasn't here to make friends, and he wasn't here to sit around while someone else eliminated the monster. The very thought of it lit a fire in Alexios' chest, rage and anticipation causing his hands to jitter slightly where they rested by his sides.

"Determined, then," the other man purred, tone taking on an edge that Alexios had heard all too often. It set another flame off within him, lower in his stomach than the anger resided. "I like that in a man."

Alexios looked over at the stranger once more. He wasn't there to make friends, but he didn't have to be friends to end up in bed with someone, and it was rare for Alexios to turn away an opportunity to indulge himself in a handsome stranger.

"Do you, now." It wasn't a question, and Alexios was sure to color his words with the same coquettish spark and twined a finger through the end of his loose curls. "The two of us might get along, then."

The tips of the blond's ears turned a little red, and he scanned Alexios up and down, visibly interested. Still, he didn't respond directly to that statement, and Alexios was internally pleased to see that he enjoyed this type of flirtatious game just as much as the Barlockian did. "In any case," the stranger diverted, "it is very nice to come across someone so like minded already."

"It is." Alexios was surprised to find that statement to be true. He'd almost expected to stride right into the castle all on his own to cut the beast down. For some reason, it had hardly occurred to him that there were other Nephilim who might want this just as badly as he did, but it did make the whole ordeal less isolating.

Even if it was still going to be himself to end the damned creature.

"Ah!" an exclamation from the stranger jerked Alexios out of his brief reverie, and he looked back over to the blond. "I never gave you my name!" he continued, offering Alexios a broad smile and reaching a hand out for him to shake. "Boreas Cirillo, head Nephilim of Sarlet, at your service. But you already knew the last part."

"Alexios Rahmiel," the brunet replied, reaching out to briefly take Boreas' hand in his own. The Sarletan had a firm grip and warm hands, surprisingly much less calloused than Alexios' own.

"It is a pleasure, Alexios Rahmiel," Boreas said, and it sounded as though he truly meant it. "I am glad to see someone else taking this job seriously."

"Likewise." Alexios found that he genuinely meant it, as well – Boreas had been nothing but pleasant to talk to, so far. But the way he kept talking about how nice it was to find someone so like minded, so serious, so determined… Alexios couldn't help but point out, "You say that like you expected to be the only one who considered this situation important."

Boreas' nose wrinkled just slightly before his features schooled themselves again, and he hummed in thought. "Well, it's not that I expect them not to, necessarily," he began, clearly thinking out this response carefully. "I don't know many of the other Nephilim, after all. But my neighbor to the east, Neven of Carault… well, it's a bit difficult to get them to focus on much of anything. So, I was a bit worried."

Neven of Carault? Alexios was sure he'd heard the name from someone – perhaps Klieo or Sirona had mentioned them at some point. "They sound foolish," he replied.

"Maybe a little bit," Boreas conceded, and looked quite pained to admit it. "I don't mean to speak badly of them – they are kind and well-liked in their Province, but… Carault is a very spirited place. They like to have fun."

"Now is not the time to have fun," Alexios huffed, a bit annoyed at the very thought of someone being flippant with how important this mission was. They'd been training for nearly their entire lives for it, after all. Or, at least, most of them had, Alexios thought with a prickle of shame crawling up his spine.

"Not any fun?" Something more amorous had crept back into Boreas' tone, and Alexios perked up a little. "Because I was rather hoping you might be up for some, at least. No reason we can't enjoy ourselves just a little."

The idea of having Boreas beneath him, panting and perhaps begging, was far too inviting to turn it down entirely. "…I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world," he admitted, after a few moments of silence. Unfortunately, Boreas seemed to take that for hesitation rather than the fantasizing it was.

"If I am making you uncomfortable, please let me know," he amended gracefully. "I apologize if I've been too forward."

"You are not," Alexios reassured, "making me uncomfortable."

Another smile graced Boreas' lips – this time it was more self-satisfied. Alexios liked that expression on him, too.

For a while, the two walked in silence once more. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, but it was eerie. Alexios was far more used to Barlocke with its dense population of people mulling about, trudging on through their daily lives. It was never this quiet, in his Province – Barlockians were busybodies, always working, always chatting, always moving. Even consumed by Rot, Barlocke was lively.

Soiron was nothing but a ghost town. Barlocke could be like this in the future, Alexios realized, and clenched his fists as a new wave of anger swamped him.

Being so near the source of Rot was comforting, in a way. Soon, he could fix this. Soon, this would be over. Soon, his dying Province would be nothing but a bad memory, and the massive orchards and fields full of crops would return, and no one would ever go hungry again.

The thought was comforting.

After a stretch of time, Alexios could no longer handle the silence, and decided to introduce a new topic of conversation. He'd noticed something a while back, but hadn't thought to bring it up before now.

"You're not carrying any weapons," he pointed out. Boreas was dressed in a dark outfit – navy blue or black, Alexios assumed – with sophisticatedly-sewn silver patterns around the collar and cuffs. But there wasn't a sword on his hip, like Alexios himself had, and he didn't see the outline of daggers under Boreas' clothing. He seemed to be entirely unarmed.

Boreas looked a bit surprised to be addressed, and then delighted, and then smug. "I don't need them," he replied breezily, but did not elaborate. Instead, he demonstrated.

The temperature around them dropped suddenly, and Alexios shuddered under both the chill and the wave of magical energy that seemed to shake the air he breathed. The stones under his feet iced over immediately, and Alexios could feel his lashes begin to stick together with frost. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume winter had slammed into them full-force.

Boreas was powerful. A chill of an entirely different type rocked his frame.

"I s-see," Alexios said, teeth chattering against his will. He wondered if this was what Sarlet felt like all the time, and he was suddenly grateful for Barlocke's mild weather.

Boreas smiled, and the temperature returned to normal. Alexios took a moment or two to stop trembling, his body unused to such extreme temperatures. It didn't help that he absolutely hated the cold, and he made a mental note to avoid Boreas in any combat situations in the future.

It seemed as though neither man had anything more to say, so the conversation fizzled once more and they were met with the oppressive hush that had its claws over the city. Fortunately, they weren't far from the castle now – it was well within sight, and Alexios was pleased to see that the path leading up to the front door was illuminated for them.

The castle was a gargantuan thing, its outline dark against the cloudy night sky. Its pinnacle was in the center and was at least eighty feet tall, draping down to curved walls that made up the outer barrier. It was surrounded by what must have been gardens at some point, but were now just round patches of dirt with dead trees standing in the center. Alexios looked into a small pond to his left, which might have housed fish at one point, and was unsurprised to find nothing but black sludge. Any fish would have died long ago, along with everything else in the garden.

There was something eerily beautiful about the place, even now. Alexios wondered what it had looked like just twenty five years ago.

The gate was standing open, likely expecting visitors. Alexios and Boreas entered without incident, and had to cross a final courtyard before making it to the castle's front door.

"Look," Boreas said, wings ruffling a little with interest. "The Angels."

In the very center of the courtyard, standing tall in two perfect circles, were twelve individual statues. All made of what Alexios expected was gold, depicting the Angel from each Province. There was an outer ring and an inner ring, which Alexios expected had something to do with how their very country was laid out. It was too dark to make out which was which, though, and he made a mental note to return in the morning to see them in the daylight.

"I appreciate you talking with me," Boreas spoke, catching Alexios' full attention once more. He was still smiling, and Alexios wondered if the man ever stopped. "It made the walk feel much shorter."

"It wasn't a hardship," Alexios assured, and was surprised to find that it really hadn't been. "I enjoyed it."

While he was eager to enter the castle and truly begin his task, he found that he was a little disappointed that their stroll had come to an end. Boreas did the honor of reaching up to the door knocker and gave it a few taps against the wood, and the two were left to wait for a moment.

It did not take long for someone to greet them. A servant, old and tired-looking, opened the door and offered the two Nephilim a smile. She had to be at least in her sixties, and was too thin, dressed in tattered robes and looking far too unkempt for a maid in the castle.

"Welcome," she greeted, voice hoarse and hollow. "Please, do come in. We've sent for Prince Asher – he should be down any mome-"

"I'm here!" a more familiar voice called, and Prince Asher hurriedly descended the staircase. The redhead looked a little unkempt, himself – it was late at night, after all, and Alexios wondered if they'd woken him up. His hair was loose and his clothing was clearly thrown on quickly, all rumpled and completely unlike how Asher typically dressed. Alexios had never seen the heir look quite so frazzled – he had been far more put-together in their prior meetings. "I apologize for keeping you two waiting."

"You didn't," Boreas assured, warm and kind and still smiling. "We only just arrived."

Prince Asher relaxed visibly at the reassurance, his boyish face softening. He had reached them now, and had to tip his head back to look up at the other men. "I'm glad," he said, and it sounded honest. Alexios wondered if the Prince truly liked them as much as he seemed to, or if he was simply being polite. But considering they were here to kill what was unfortunately his biological brother, Alexios feared the latter. "The King would be here to greet you, as well, but he is currently retired for the night."

The King, not Father. Alexios didn't allow himself to dwell on Prince Asher's choice of wording for too long.

"That's alright," Boreas spoke again, and Alexios was mildly glad he didn't have to lead the conversation at the moment. "It's quite late, yes? Perhaps it would be best for all of us to get some rest."

No, Alexios wanted to protest. They were here to kill the damned adversary, weren't they? Waiting even one more night seemed almost unbearable.

But even he had to concede that he was exhausted, and he couldn't imagine how Boreas felt, flying down from Sarlet over the last day or so. Even if they were to face down their opponent right now, the both of them would only be fighting at a fraction of their normal strength. As much as he hated to admit it, sleep sounded like the best option for now.

"Of course," Prince Asher agreed easily. He offered them a gentle, amicable smile and gestured for them to follow him. "If you'll come with me, I can show you to your rooms."

Walking up the stairs reminded Alexios of the ache in his legs, and he found himself looking forward to the chance to sit down. Still, tired though he was, it was difficult not to appreciate the beauty of the staircase itself. They were made of white marble with swirling golden handrails for contrast, well-lit and glorious. There was a set of four steps going straight up, and then the stairs diverged, almost reminiscent of spread wings, which converged once more at the top. Alexios ran a hand along the metal handrails, feeling the detail in each individual leaf, and took a moment to simply be in awe of the craftsmanship.

The stairs led up to a long hall which stretched in either direction, left and right. The floors were carpeted here, soft and plush under Alexios' boots, and vibrant red in color. It was a nice contrast to the dark brown wood of the walls, which were mostly bare, save for the series of doors that they were led to.

"You two are free to choose whichever room you'd like – they're all essentially the same," Prince Asher explained. "The lavatories and bathing rooms are downstairs, down the hall to the left of the front door. And if you get hungry, feel free to call for a servant – we received a new shipment of supplies yesterday morning, so there's plenty to eat."

"Thank you," Alexios spoke up. Where's your brother? he wanted to say. Do you even know? But he refrained, and Prince Asher offered the two of them a smile.

"Rest well. We appreciate you both getting here so quickly," Prince Asher responded, but the words didn't sound like they belonged to him. "Please make yourselves at home."

With that, the Prince turned to head down the hall on the other side of the stairs, presumably toward his own room, and left Boreas and Alexios on their own once more.

Unsurprisingly, Boreas broke the silence first. "So we were the first to arrive," he hummed.

"We are fairly early," Alexios said, looking over at the blond. Boreas was still watching down the hall where Prince Asher had disappeared, smile still on his lips, though he looked more contemplative than Alexios had seen him all night.

"Perhaps that has its perks," he mused, dark eyes finally flashing toward Alexios. "He mentioned a bathing room – would you care to join me?" There was that sultry tone again, suggestive and promising. Alexios would have to be a fool not to at least consider the offer.

And consider it he did, but…

"Not tonight, thank you," he declined, as tempting as it was.

Concern crossed the older Nephilim's expression, and he floundered a bit. "I apologize if I've overstepped," he replied, smile dropping from his face for the first time since he'd snuck up on Alexios. "If I've read the situation wrong-"

"You didn't read the situation wrong," Alexios interjected, holding up a hand as if to physically halt the apologies. "It's not a no. Just a… later."

"Oh." Boreas perked back up a bit, lips quirking back up at the corners. "Well, in that case…" he drawled, "would you be kind enough to give me something to visualize, for now? Do you prefer to toss or catch, so to speak?"

How forward. Alexios gave the other man a deliberate glance, up and down, before meeting stormy blue eyes directly. "Toss," he stated.

"Mm," Boreas hummed, lids falling to half-mast and cheeks pinkening slightly. "I would enjoy that."

Something stirred in Alexios' stomach, interested and warm, but he said nothing further and instead offered the larger man a small smirk of his own.

"Well, then," the Sarletan said, turning to head back down the hall toward the staircase in the direction of the baths. "Good night, Alexios of Barlocke. I will see you in the morning."

"Good night," Alexios responded and went in the opposite direction, toward the end of the hall. There were twelve doors, six on either side, and he was drawn to the furthest one on the right.

It wasn't anything particularly extravagant, but it was larger and more beautiful than he was used to. Blue wallpaper with intricate gold leaves adorned the walls, which were decorated with large paintings of Angels as well as fixtures that cast ample amounts of light. There was a round bed in the center, dressed in white sheets and perfectly built to accommodate winged people, with plenty of walking space on either side. Floor-to-ceiling windows stood on the far end of the room, big enough to open and leap out if they needed to take sudden flight. It was clear that the room was built with Nephilim in mind, and if one ignored the tendrils of Rot that had begun to creep in through the window sills, it would be perfect.

The familiar sight of dark veins, leeching energy from their surroundings caused a sick feeling to churn in Alexios' stomach, but it also steeled his resolve. This was why he was here, after all. This was his purpose.

He sat on the edge of the bed and sat his bag and sword on the floor beside it. It was nice to be able to rest, even for a moment, even with restless energy coursing through his veins and his hand twitching to bury his blade deep in the beast's chest.

All of this would be over soon. He would make sure of it.

An - Hello! Thank you guys so much for your patience! I'm sorry for the crazy wait for this chapter but a lot of life stuff happened and things and I didn't really feel up to writing much, but I'm definitely back now! I appreciate you all so much and I can't wait to introduce more characters!

Alexios Rahmiel was created by Son of Arryn
Boreas Cirillo was created by me!

Special thanks to my wonderful partner Yu for helping me and plotting with me and all that, and for everyone who has sent in a character to the story! You're all very appreciated!

Thank you,
van