"And then she did what?" Maea asked, delivering a sound punch to the face of a demon that had the audacity to try and jump her and Beth as they were doing a late-night patrol. And in the middle of their conversation too.

"She tripped me," Beth told her, dropping a solid kick to the back of the demon's leg, sending him to his knees. Maea then took another blow to his head and the demon went crashing to the ground. "Like she actually did that, like we were in some dumb tween film. She even made a work of it, feigning innocence."

"Are you entirely positive that her actions were not truly accidental?" Maea inquired, still keeping her eyes on the demon now laid out unconscious between them.

"It's Margie," she emphasized, disgusted expression and all. "It's obvious that I'm the better slayer than her and she hates it, so she's doing whatever she can to make me look stupid. You would know if you met her."

"And yet you've asked that I not bother myself by meeting someone you deem a 'complete waste of space,'" Maea remembered, the side of her mouth quirking in amusement.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, she is," she grumbled. "I just wish she'd leave me the hell alone! Honestly, you'd think she'd get bored after a while."

"Mm, I've come to find you humans will latch onto some of the strangest things," Maea noted. "Despite your short lives, there are things you all refuse to let go of. I believe you refer to it as a 'grudge.' She is only here for a few more months. Can you simply not avoid her until then?"

She sighed. "I wish. While my mum and dad try to keep us from working directly together, Andrew thinks it's a brilliant idea to make us team up and go out. I don't know why, exactly. It's not like he's new to our rivalry."

"Maybe he is simply hoping things will improve through time," Maea suggested.

She snorted. "If he is, he's gone around the bend. I'm not just some academic rival to her, some girl in her class she has to upstage. She hates me to my core. She despises the very thing that I am. And now, since I refuse to cower under her words anymore, I think it's made her worse."

"Yes, nothing worse than when those you deem inferior to you attempt to gain equal footing," Maea murmured. "It only makes her weak, you know, when she acts like this. The world is very large and there are many people out there. Her narrow-mindedness will get her killed."

"Yeah, but that's kind of an inherent slayer quality," Beth reminded her.

"Then maybe that is why so many have died so young," she retorted.

"Didn't you work with a slayer once?" Beth asked.

She sighed. "Yes, and it was a very long time ago. Upon realizing I was 'different,' she had a hard time accepting it. Although, she herself was very different and I think she was lonely in it."

"Huh. So, you're saying that maybe if I was the only slayer period, I might not have so much trouble?" Beth questioned.

"At that point, there wouldn't even be a Slayer Margaret to contend with," she pointed out and Beth huffed. "Now, we ought to do something about this demon before he wakes up. He'll be awful mad if he does."

But before either could do anything, a figure hurtled toward them, bellowing a war cry. He took Beth completely by surprise, so she did not react as he rushed right past her and straight toward Maea. Maea herself seemed just as surprised by the sudden attack, although she did have enough time to quickly sidestep the rushing person.

He came to a stop before turning and rushing Maea again, giving Beth a good look at him. His skin was an odd greyish-brown sort of color and some of his features looked exaggerated, but beyond that, he was remarkably human looking. What really threw her off was the full battalion armor he was sporting, chain mail and all. He carried a weapon similar to the pole axe, though the blade was much longer. It looked like it glittered too, which was unusual.

Snapping out of her reverie, Beth saw as the armored-being take multiple swings at Maea, who expertly avoided all of them. Despite having no weapon herself, she bested him with ease. Regardless, Beth opted to not be some useless lump, taking out her stake and driving it into the being's back between two pieces of armor. He let out a small grunt of pain, turning his head to see who had attacked him from behind. He seemed surprised to see Beth, like he hadn't noticed her presence earlier. Taking his distraction as the opportunity it was, Maea twisted the axe from his hand before dropping a blow to his chest. She must have used all of her strength, as the armored-being flew through the air, landing several feet from both of them.

He got up, slowly, an angry expression of his face when he saw Maea standing there, holding his weapon. He reached around and tore Beth's stake from his back, dropping the blood-tipped piece of wood to the ground before him. Then he stood up, growled at them (absolutely not a joke), before sprinting off into the distance.

Bewildered but still aware, Beth made a move to follow him, if at least to get an explanation because that was super odd, even for someone who's seen as much as she had. She didn't get very far though, before Maea's strong grip came out and stopped her.

"What, you don't want to go—" Beth stopped talking suddenly, when she noticed the cautious and almost worried look on Maea's face. "Uh, Maea?"

Sighing, Maea looked down at the weapon in her hand, twisting it side to side (it most definitely did have a muted glitter to it, that Beth was sure of). "You should return. I think you have patrolled enough for tonight."

"Uh, Maea?" she said again. "Is everything okay? Why did that guy attack you? I thought you said you had stopped helping questionable demons."

"I have," Maea assured, "but for now, you need to return back to your home. Your patrol is over." She let go of Beth, beginning to walk away without so much as a by-your-leave. And Beth was having none of it.

"Excuse me," Beth called out angrily, stalking after her. "You do not just get to dismiss me when you feel like it! Some random guy dressed like he came straight from the medieval times just flat out attacked you and you think you can leave without explaining that?"

"Beth!" Maea shouted, her voice clipped. "For the time being, you will have to be satisfied with not knowing everything. Is that understood?"

Taken aback by the harsh tone, Beth didn't say anything as Maea continued to leave, not sparing another backward glance at her. Cursing under her breath, she went to retrieve her fallen stake. Seeing that it was nearly two in the morning, she guessed it wasn't the worst idea to wrap up patrol and head home. She shot another glance in the direction Maea had gone though, wondering what that was all about. Rarely ever did Beth see Maea looking anything less than calm and collected. Living for several millennia gave one great emotional control. The attack really must have shaken her, if she let even the barest of worry leak out. Naturally, Beth was worried for her friend, but without anything to go off on, that left little for her to do.

Sighing grumpily, she figured it was best to let it rest until later, when she'd bug Maea about it again. For now, she'd simply finish dispatching the demon and go home and sleep w—the demon was gone. At some point during the small skirmish, he must have woken up and made his grand escape.

"Bloody fucking hell!" she groaned, kicking a lamp post.

-.-

79 A.D., Pompeii

It was in times of peace like this that Maeaonis truly felt restless. Despite her exile, she still breathed and lived through war. Many found it brutal, as she was sure, but the great Roman Empire had been such a lively sight for her. It was conquest, though sometimes inhumane, and she thrived upon its expansion. Before she had been forced to live out her unending existence upon this pitiful planet, she had raged great battles against her foes, often coming away victorious. She had been revered amongst her people, for she was fair and just in battle. Humans always tended to lean toward less than moral behavior, but she would take what she would get.

"Evander!" she called out as she entered the abode where she resided with a sort of friend of hers. She had met him accidentally nearly two centuries ago and had written him off as the strange, crazy man everyone had claimed he was. He had even called out to her, but she had ignored him, wanting to keep her head low at that point. But then she'd spotted him nearly two years ago in Pompeii and even with her shock, he'd greeted her like an old friend. He was a seer, who saw the past, present, and future all at once—often so getting them mixed up—so maybe in his head they already were.

"Ah, Maya!" he greeted, often calling her by the wrong name. She changed it depending upon the culture she lived in, wanting to stand out as little as possible. Sometimes he called her names she'd never used, but was now certain she would one day. While many wrote Evander off as mad, she knew better than most. Even amongst other seers he was deemed insane, his mad ramblings turning most off. She at times struggled to understand him, but alone in the world, with no other person such as she, she would take what she could get in her long, dreary existence. "How goes the market?"

"I went out to the well to do laundry," she reminded him, placing the basket of linen on the table. Evander was off stationed near a window, scrawled-on pieces of parchment littering him and the ground surrounding him. She picked up one piece, reading some of the jumbled phrases crisscrossing the page. She couldn't be certain, as some of the words overlapped one another, but he seemed to have prophesized giant balloons in the sky. She almost never understood any of his prophecies, as she largely dealt in concrete things. Most of what he wrote was irrelevant though, and hardly consequential. He'd write about lightning striking a tree or a child stumbling into a ditch most of the time; it was only rarely that true, prophetic visions haunted him. And when they did, it disturbed him greatly. Otherwise, he was mostly his normal, cheerful self, though still a bit off.

"Ah, yes, the market is Tuesday," he remarked, though she hadn't gone to the market stalls that Tuesday. "How went the washing then?"

"It was a standard as it comes," she replied.

"Did you perhaps stumble upon dear Antonius?" he inquired innocently, though she saw the glint reflected in his eyes.

Dropping her head to hide her blush, she responded briskly, "No. He has other matters to attend to this afternoon. You know that as well as I."

"Only because you have informed me of such," he responded in a teasing manner.

Antonius was one of the few humans Maeonis found herself having any sort of long-term contact with. She mostly abstained from it, as her long lifespan easily dwarfed theirs. Sometimes though, one or another would somehow slip into her line of sight. She had stumbled upon Antonius, the son of a baker, six months ago. Since then, she had found herself often returning to him.

Where she had come from originally, the idea that a God such as herself would have any sort of relationship with a mortal, at least that beyond the standard association she had as the High General of the King's army, was laughable. It was a thought that had never once crossed her mind. She had spent long hours with her second-in-command, but never once had it occurred to her to extend their relationship beyond the battlefield. But now, having spent long centuries living amongst the mortals as one of them, she sometimes forgot why it was best to leave them be. One who lived as long as she did, did not mesh well into the mortal world; it always ended so painfully.

She didn't know why Antonius was different; she had met numerous mortals being here in this old hell dimension, but none had stuck to her such as he. He would smile and she would loathe what she felt inside, but only after he had gone. When he was with her, she often forgot that he thought only of her as another woman in the city; he knew nothing more about her or where she came from.

"How is he, by the way?" Evander asked suddenly, looking up from his papers. He had a sort of keen look in his eyes, one that instantly disturbed her greatly. She had spent very little time in the company of the seer, but she had easily picked up on his many mannerisms. Her latent empathic abilities helped her so.

"He has been well," she replied slowly.

He nodded, accepting what she said as the truth. She did not know if he had seen something, or knew of something she did not. She did not have time to ask him though, as he suddenly let out a pained cry, his nails raking at his skin as he fell from his chair. She immediately rushed to him, prying his hands from his skin so he would not injure himself further. He began to spasm, his screams reaching pitching levels.

"It rains fire!" he cried, his head thrashing side to side. His eyes, once having been squeezed shut, were now wide open, the pupils blown enough so that only the barest slit of the iris remained. His eyes seemed to be searching the sky and she knew he was seeing something she could not. "Oh, it burns, it burns, it burns…"

He continued his babbling for another minute or so, Maeaonis still holding his arms as he slowly began to calm down, returning to the present time. Finally, the twitching stopped and his breathing, though ragged, was not as spastic as it had been.

"Evander?" she asked carefully once he calmed, letting go of his arms. It was red where she had gripped him hard, forgetting her strength in the moment.

She noticed there were tears in his eyes and he turned to look at her with such a frightful gaze. "Oh, Maeaonis, it is terrible."

"What did you see?" she asked as she helped him back into his chair. He sat slouched as she fetched him some water. He looked old and drawn, such a sharp contrast from his usual jubilant self. It was at these times that she would wonder how old he was, if not as old as time itself, and what sort of terrible visions had plagued him in those times. The mortal world was one of chaos and peril, wrought with disasters many times over. There was joy and happiness as well, but Evander did not often receive such visions.

"The mountain," he said in a low tone. "It blackened out the sky. Oh, and the air was poisonous! My breaths the very death of me!"

"Evander, what are you speaking of?" she demanded softly, having no time for his ramblings.

"The mountain will erupt," he claimed. "From out of it will pour hot ash and rock, raining it down upon this city. We must flee, Maeaonis! Before it is too late for us!"

Jerking her head back, she regarded him critically. "And this will happen soon?" she asked and he nodded. "And what of everyone else? Should we not tell them?"

He looked at her mournfully. "An event of such proportion is terrible, but it remains natural. You know we cannot intercede. Take solace in knowing that not many will die. Most will flee before time runs out."

"But many will still remain," she concluded and he nodded hesitantly. "I dislike this non-intervention nature of you seers. It is cruel."

"It is life," he corrected, this tone soft, begging for forgiveness. Despite having been cast out from his seer clan, Evander still kept to the rules. He knew better than to go off spouting prophetic visions like some men on the streets did. Those who disobeyed the Powers That Be were not greeted kindly upon death. And one such as he, ageless and endless, knew better than to invoke such wrath. It was painful to witness such catastrophes and be powerless to save them, but he was not God, and he did not decide who lived or died. Unfortunately, such a thing could not be said for Maeaonis. As a God of War, she saw most everything in terms of tactics and strategy; the world was her battle ground. To allow inaction such as this, to allow people to remain though she possessed the knowledge and foresight to save them, was an act of treachery. Though the citizens and tourists of Pompeii were not her people nor her soldiers, the feeling remained. It grated on her to be so without purpose.

"You know what laws that I am bound to," he reminded her.

"I know," she spat out, though not angry at him. "Those people cast you out and yet you still hold true to their laws."

"On my honor," he told her and she could not hate him for that. His loyalty to even those who betrayed him was commendable, and she could not ask for a better companion.

"Allow me one concession," she implored.

"You wish to tell Antonius," he said, having been aware of her request before even she had been.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"There is the likelihood that he will leave with the rest," he reminded her. "As I stated, many will flee in the days coming the first."

"His family's livelihood is here," she reminded him. "If there is even the slimmest possibility to them that it will pass, they will not seek asylum. But if I were to tell him of the visions you saw, he would urge his family to leave. He would be safe."

Evander looked troubled by her request. "I don't know," he said softly. "Even one man can change the setting of the world."

"Then let the punishment befall me if my actions were to upset the balance," she told him. "I would gladly take the punishment for you. I would be deserving of it anyway. Besides, I only ask for your blessing. Even without it, I would still tell him."

"I figured," he muttered. "Then go. If I cannot stop you, I see no point in telling you no."

Smiling at him, she rushed off to find Antonius, prepared to deliver the dreadful news.

-.-

She found him outside near the vineyards, ambling between the rows. He walked as if he expected her, though they had made no plans to visit with one another. Never the less, he greeted her with open arms, which she gladly accepted.

"Maeaonis," he greeted warmly when he let her go. "It is a fine day, is it not? Though, dare I say, the sun shines brighter in your presence?"

"Need I remind you that you are no poet?" she teased, though she had been pleased by his words. It was more than often she had been commended on her skill in battle long ago, compliments rained down upon her for her actions. Mortals though seemed more inclined to compliment looks than anything else. And while it was shallow, it could still be welcomed.

"There is a dark look on your eyes," he stated, his tone taking on a more serious note. "You bear bad news."

"I do," she admitted, seeing no point in hiding it. "As I have told you, a dear friend of mine, he sometimes receives terrible visions."

"A man of God, yes," he agreed.

"He has seen the coming destruction of Pompeii," she informed him. "In some few days' time, the sky will blacken out and poisonous gas will befall this city. If you do not leave now, I fear you will not survive."

"You do not jest," he said, searching her face for some sign that she was telling a joke. "You believe him."

"I always have," she told him. "And I know you are skeptical of his words sometimes, but Evander sees the truth. He knows of what is to come and is already planning his own departure from the city. I beg that you go as well; tell no one else, but take your family and leave."

"I will leave, if that will make you happy," he conceded. "I will take my family to Neapolis, but only if you promise to come with me."

She nodded, willing to do anything as long as he agreed to go. "I will meet you there," she promised. "First, I must assure Evander leaves safely. He is sometimes forgetful and easily loses track of time. Once he is safely out of Pompeii, I will join you and your family in Neapolis."

"Do you promise?" he asked softly, taking up her hands.

"I do," she replied fervently, gently pressing her lips to his. Their encounter was a short one, as she was soon rushing him to leave again. He was to return home and immediately begin his and his family's departure. She watched him go from the vineyard, as he turned around and waved at her. She returned the wave before falling into an almost mournful state. Though, maybe at last she would get her peace.

-.-

Antonius and his family left two days after her request, his father claiming better business elsewhere. It was a flimsy excuse, as most were shocked that the man would abandon such an enterprise. With Rome's wealthiest flooding the streets, it seemed almost idiotic to leave. They did though and for that Maeaonis found peace.

Evander left a few short days after, taking very little with him. A long life had taught him to how to pack lightly, as it had her. He took only some of his scrolls with him, along with food and water for his journey.

"Where will you go?" she inquired, wondering if she would ever see him again. She hoped not, though not for reasons some might assume. He was better company than most and she did not regret knowing him.

"There is a world far beyond the Caesar's control," he claimed, "and I wish to see it."

"I hope it is as magnificent as I am sure it is in your head," she told him.

He returned his comment with a sad smile. "Are you sure you do not wish to come with me?" he implored. "I am not all-knowing and I do not know yet when we will meet again. I fear if you were to have your way, we never will."

She hummed softly. "I am not one of the men in your visions. I am a power outside of your Powers and so they do not tell me my path. I decide my own."

"I know," he said, "though I do wish you would seek out something bigger for yourself. Maeaonis, I know that you are not here by your own design. To you, this is your prison, where you are contained and shackled; but there is a great, big world out there, and it excites me to think of what possibilities it may have in store for you."

Instead of replying to his comment, she simply said, "Go now. And, if your Gods be willing, may we meet again."

"It is not my Gods who need be willing," he told her, before kissing her softly on her cheek. He left her then, and she was alone, waiting out the end.

The eruption was not as fantastic as Evander's visions had made it seem, though she had only been audience to his reactions. For mortals though, it was a dark sign, when the mountain quaked and stormed, throwing up ash and gas into the sky. Day fell into a night which lasted for days. Many left, as Evander had said they would, though still many stayed. Maeaonis was among them, and she went outside and lifted her hands up into the sky as the darkness fell down and the air choked her.

-.-

1637, Aki Province, Japan

The glorious light of the growing fire was only ruined by the smell of burning flesh. Despite this, Mai breathed in the embers, feeling the bright power fulfill her. Even in her bondage, she sought out the power fire bequeathed upon her. She resisted the urge to thrust the blade of her katana into the flames and watch as the metal glowed iridescently, reminiscent of her God Weapon, lost to her long ago.

She did not move toward the fire though, staying in the shadows as was requested of her. It was not until smoke clouded out the sky and the sweltering heat from the flames made even standing in the far tree line nearly unbearable, did figures begin to emerge from the wooden structure. She watched as they ran from the burning building, themselves already burning to ash.

Vampires were of great interest to her. In her homeland, she had often heard stories of mortals who sold their souls over to demons for powers, though she had not seen such. Demons were scarce where she came from; but upon Earth, they were abundant. Vampires in particular were viewed as vermin to those who knew of them. They were a pestilence to society, often decimating populations with only a few of them. Mai herself looked down upon them not for their inability to control themselves, but as a God. Though she was bound, they were still an inferior species. Further, they had no sense of loyalty or justice, killing viciously and without provocation. They were ceaseless murderers, and for that she helped kill them.

Soon, all the inhabiting vampires had fallen to ash, of which she made sure of. The structure was nearing instability, the heat unbearable. She waited though, even as the structure collapsed under the weight of itself, waiting for a lone figure to emerge from the shadows, tired and bloody, but victorious nonetheless.

It was not until sunrise and when she had scoured the surrounding area did she return back to camp with a heavy heart. She'd gone and done something impossibly stupid again; she'd given her heart away to another mortal, one whose death was even more slated than most.

-.-

Yuki Makimura had proved herself to be one of the odder mortals Mai had happened upon in her travels. This was not simply due to her status as a warrior female—though odd in its own right such a thing was. Mai had seen the perseverance of humanity in the face of unspeakable evil, and she had seen its inevitable downfall when it took on a power greater than itself. Demons were not a species to be trifled with, yet again and again did humans run out and face them imperiously—Yuki being one of the more prominent characters. What had surprised her though had been the sheer force the girl had exhibited when meeting her demonic enemy; she'd demolished him without a single flinch. It was unimaginable. Exhilarating.

At first Mai had assumed she'd met with a companion of sorts, someone who was in the same situation as her. Of course, it was upon questioning that Mai found that Yuki was in fact human, as mortal as the rest, but that within her rested a sacred duty. For the Gods had granted unto her a power beyond imagination, unparalleled strength with a destiny to fight against the powers of darkness—the demons. At first Mai had been skeptical, sure the girl was lying to her in an attempt to trick her or simply make of fool of her, but curious, she had stayed with Yuki and learned much. For one, there was power outside of the Powers guarding Earth that Mai knew of—they were known as the Watcher's Council and they oversaw the slayer, Yuki. Neither had met this shadow force, though Yuki did have a man known as a Watcher who kept up her training.

Mai, fascinated by this new addition to the mortal race, and seeing a kindred spirit in battle, pledged to help Yuki with her sacred duty. She had seen nothing wrong with it at the time; she, after all, was a child of battle as well. And while demons were a different force and she did not meet them on a battle field, it was war nonetheless. With Yuki, she found herself again, and fought with renewed vengeance. It was glorious. And after the death of Yuki's Watcher, it was become just the two of them, and Mai vowed to train Yuki to her best, leading her to be the longest-lived slayer the Watcher's Council had ever seen. What a short, yet glorious time that had been.

"You speak English," the man stated to her as she sat upon the tatami mat in her hut. He stood, looking out-of-place with his distinctly European attire and, if she was not mistaken, slight French accent. He did not introduce himself, though when she saw him, she knew who he was. Why else would a French man be in Japan of all places?

"I do," she replied, giving him a quick once-over. She gestured for him to join her, and he turned his nose to the very idea of sitting on the floor. She rolled her eyes; she could see why the Watcher's Council had foregone their normal protocol of sending someone in to train a slayer and instead found someone within Japan when Yuki had been called. The clash of cultures seemed far too great an obstacle for this man to overcome.

"You have provided the Watcher's Council with insurmountable resources and information, including yourself," he began, the very picture of diplomacy and harbinger of bad news. "While the Council had long since been wary of outside forces enacting themselves in our stead, we have greatly appreciated all that you have done, not just with Ms. Makimura, but for the Council as a whole. You have been a great asset and ally."

"You did not come to compliment me," she rebutted, cutting off his ramblings. "And I do not ask you to. What I ask is that you do not waste my time. I am aware that you Watchers enjoy recording the lives and subsequent deaths of their slayers. In the absence of Yuki's Watcher, am I correct to assume that you wish for me to recount her last moments? I must disappoint you then. I was not in the building when it burned; the only thing I can't account for is the death of the vampires you wished to have expunged for this earth, including the most feared son of Archaeus."

There was a very pregnant pause that followed the end of Mai's words, enough so that she glanced up at the Watcher, wondering if it was possible that while her English was impeccable, his was not. After all, she had centuries on him. Instead of seeing his confused expression, she saw only a guarded one.

"You have come for something else," she stated carefully, her eyes watching him for every minute change in expression. Mortals, though they tried to mask their feelings behind stoicism, forgot just how truly expressive they could be. And in his face, she saw something akin to true fear.

"We have many connections in Japan," he said by way of beginning. "We were able to still watch over you and Miss Makimura through these sources."

"I am aware," she interrupted, afraid he was starting off on another one of his lengthy speeches when she only wanted him to get to the point. "It's how we knew to go after the Master."

"Yes, and in return those sources feed information to us as well," he informed her. "And these sources have come to us with the gravest of information."

"Which is?" she prompted.

"The Master is not dead," he told her and she was taken aback by the information.

"Impossible," she snorted, not ready to believe him. "I watched the building. No one escaped. He and all his vampires burned—Yuki along with them. I know this to be true."

"Then you do not know the truth," the Watcher said in return, his tone more acerbic than Mai was ever used to hearing. She openly sneered at him, never one to accept such blatant disrespect. "The Master lives."

"And what, you have come to me to cleanse the world of his pestilence?" she asked, almost in disbelief. While she had no respect for any demon, she did not understand the Council's almost obsessive nature when it came to the Master. While he was a threat, she hardly saw him as the worst offender. He had only come above ground to recruit more vampires for his Order, not to decimate an entire village as some vampires were so keen to do.

"While that would be ideal, he is no longer out biggest concern," the Watcher told her, his expression grim.

"Then what is?" she asked waspishly, hardly wanting him to continue speaking. She wished to be left alone, mourning the death of another comrade, one with whom she held close to her heart almost desperately. The worst news was yet to come though, enough so that she was surprised that it did not kill her. Though, after this long, she'd come to realize very little actually would.

-.-

She tracked her down beyond the Aki Province and into the next. Mai had followed the trail across the length of the country until she hardly knew where she was. She had kept her distance with a purpose though, her tracking skills still intact after all these years. She had needed preparation for what she was about to do.

"She is stronger than any creature we have ever seen," the Watcher had told her, stressing the severity of it all. She inwardly scoffed at him though.

"Then that means you have never seen me," she had said in return.

"She will not be herself," he then told her quietly, urgently. "I am aware of how…close you two were."

"You know very little," she had replied scathingly, not sparing him a glance as she moved about her hut, collecting what she would need for her journey. "She is the enemy now and that is all I know."

Mai spotted her enemy standing in a clearing besides a dirt road. She seemed to be waiting; as a hunter, it was likely she knew she was being tracked.

Dropping all pretenses of a hunt, Mai dropped down from her tree and strode out into the clearing, moonlight glinting off her katana.

"I was wondering who they would send," she murmured, her voice no different than Mai had remembered it. "It is good to see you with new eyes, Mai."

"I wish I could say the same for you, Yuki-san," Mai said in return, keeping her tone neutral. She regarded Yuki with cold eyes, something that she noticed seemed to upset the turned slayer. "I believe you know why I was sent after you."

"Yes," Yuki sighed, sounding almost forlorn. "My sire assured me of such. The Council could not let someone like me live, though he told me that I would be stronger than anything they sent after me. I did not mention you. It does not have to be like this, Mai."

"I do not know what you could possibly mean by that," Mai spit back. "You are a scourge upon this Earth and it is my duty to cleanse it of you."

"Your duty?" Yuki asked scornfully. "You never liked the ideologies of the Council, and yet you speak of a duty to them?"

"To them? I do not believe that is what I said," Mai told her, maintaining eye contact.

It took a moment for it to sink in for Yuki and she seemed taken aback when she realized that Mai intended to hold true to her promise of protection and carrying on in Yuki's stead. "I am not so different," Yuki tried to assure her. "This does not have to be the end, Mai. You and I can still be together."

"You are not as you once were," Mai insisted. "I saw into the eyes of Yuki and what I saw is not reflected in yours. You are, though you wear her face, a beast above all with an allegiance only to your own nature."

"Do not assume yourself so much better than me," Yuki snarled, her hand going for the hilt of her katana.

Mai raised hers in return. "But I do because I am."

The subsequent fight was not nearly as long as it felt. Mai fought methodically and without any passion, a fact that had Yuki crowing in early success. She had seen the ability of Mai often and had assumed that her lack of current passion meant she was not giving it her all. What Yuki did not know was that Mai's love of battle came with her passion; without it, it was only a job.

She drove Yuki to her knees with ease, astonishing the newly turned vampire. She wasted no time, only allowing Yuki's eyes to widen in comprehension before she swung her katana. There would be no body, only ash in the wind. Her panting breath disturbed the ashes as she fell to her knees, bracing herself with her katana. She closed her eyes, only hearing as her breath came out raggedly, feeling the tears drip down her face. She had nothing left, and memories were only stains in her mind she could not erase.

"The history books cannot remember this," the Watcher had informed her as she had left.

"Then I can only hope you will return the same sentiment to me," she had said in response. "Do not seek me out again, Watcher. I wash myself of you and your machinations. This is the last task I will do in your stead, but know that I do not do it for you."

-.-

1948 New York City, New York

Holding on tightly to her scarf as the wind attempted to blow it right up into the trees, Maya crossed the street heading toward the small café on the corner with the forest green umbrellas, just as the letter had directed her. Living in some dingy apartment in the slums, she had been caught off guard when a letter had been slipped under her door. For one, there were few people who knew of her continued existence, and even fewer who had reason to contact her. So, it had been a bit surprising when she realized it was a letter from an old friend. Ernest—he was going by that now—wanted to see her. Her first reaction was to simply throw the letter out and forget it ever came, but she then realized he would likely just send another one. He was a seer after all; there weren't exactly any addresses of hers he couldn't find.

She spotted Ernest easily. While he wore the clothes of the decade and with the diverse ground of New York he blended in easily, he still looked out of sorts to her. The air around him seemed to shift in his wake, leaving him a wide berth. No one else around him seemed fully cognizant of it, but Maya could tell by the way they held themselves and stole glances at him that though they didn't recognize it, they felt it on some level.

"Ah, you came!" he greeted exuberantly as she sat down across from him. She shrugged as he pushed a cup toward her. Coffee, she noted. "What do I call you this time? Um…I'm feeling Mariela."

Despite herself, she shot him a dry smile. It was hard for her, even now, to not find a sort of old comfort in his lack of present. "You're a little late for that one," she informed him. "I took that name back in the 20s, when I spent some time in Italy again."

"Where we met," he remembered after a moment. "We did meet there, right? I always forget the order. Like, just yesterday, I thought I was supposed to meet you somewhere on the west coast."

"We've never met on the west coast," she informed him, taking a sip of her coffee. Lost in his thoughts trying to reformat their history, she took a moment to study him. He looked no different that she last remembered seeing him—almost two centuries ago—if not a bit skinner. He was his usual odd, happy self, something she found so out of place with the current world. Of course, though, he was always so out of place. It felt as if for once it was the future he could not see, though its path was laid out quite clearly for her.

"Oh, it doesn't matter!" he said after a moment, waving his hand. "How have you been?"

"I have been well," she said slowly, carefully. Taking her eyes off him, she reached out for the plate of sugar cubes, dropping some into her coffee and stirring.

"I ask that you don't lie to me," he said softly and she refused him eye contact, though he attempted. "I may not be an empath, but anyone could see that you are not well. In fact, I think I felt it across space."

She snorted softly, shaking her head. "Are you analyzing me, Ernest? I wish you wouldn't."

"Have you entered into another one of your blander states?" he inquired. "You always seem so restless and unhappy after a bout of war. And this was quite the war. The war to end all wars—though they said that about the first one too. I was actually surprised I hadn't heard any wild stories about some red-headed woman tearing through concentration camps, freeing prisoners. You were there, weren't you?"

"I was," she answered, her tone guarded. She was beginning to fidget, something he'd never seen her do before. She acted almost like a caged animal, and he could see her mind prowling behind the bars of her eyes. "I did not spend my time there, though."

"But what of justice?" he ribbed softly, almost playfully. He did not want her to feel like he was interrogating her, for he knew that would only make her shut him out more. Already, she was veiled to him. As a god, she held the power to step outside of the run of time and the sequence of events; sometimes she ran parallel and sometimes she went off so far that he lost sight of her. But she always came back—she had to, with her chains. It had been ensured she could never go so far from everyone else.

She snorted derisively. "What of justice?" she repeated snidely. "I find little room for that in this world any longer."

"Maya, why do you act like this? It is not as if humanity has not been capable of such atrocities," he reminded her. "Humans may have unbounding compassion, but in turn they show great lengths in brutality."

"This? This is different," she emphasized, her hand gesturing toward the sites around them. Ernest looked around, but didn't see anything but people eating and reading at the café with them.

"Maya," he began, almost placatingly, reaching for her hand. She snatched it away though, throwing him a reprimanding look.

"I was in Hiroshima," she finally said and silence fell over the table.

Ernest's mouth fell open and closed as he tried to formulate a reply. Even with all he could see, he had not seen that coming. He was not oblivious to Maya's attempts to escape her imprisonment (through whatever means, no matter how permanent), so he should not have been surprised. Though, he did not think she meant that she was once again unsatisfied that the human world failed to produce something that could truly kill her. No, she meant something else. He remembered when the bombs had fallen—he had felt it across time after all. Such life wiped out all at once was always a sharp blow for him, but it was war, and death was not uncommon. In fact, it was humanity, and death was not a stranger. Maeaonis was the God of War; this was not something beyond her comprehension.

"For Yuki?" he finally said after a moment.

"No," she said sharply. "That was nowhere near there. It had been purely coincidental."

"Then what is the issue?" he inquired.

"You felt their suffering, Ernest, but you did not feel their pain," she reminded him. "But I did. I felt my skin burn and turn to ash, my intestines boil as the fire consumed me; can you claim to know such things?"

Now it was his turn to fidget and he did so in discomfort. While he had felt their suffering, he had not felt their true pain as she had. He felt the joys and suffering of humanity acutely, but he did not experience them as they did.

"It was war," he reminded her softly. "You are no stranger to battle."

"This was not battle," she argued. "This was—this was destruction. Annihilation. Tell me you see what this means."

"They're always building bigger and better weapons," he told her, almost pleadingly.

She shook her head, refusing to allow it all to blow over. "No, this is not the same. Before, fighting was a man on a field, weapon in hand. The glory of war was real and tangible. This is removed. How can you feel the weight of a fight if you drop a bomb from the sky? Thousands gone in a minute, Ernest. Don't tell me that's the same. I never fought like this. I took my sword to my enemy, I felt his life slip from his body and I reveled in the power, but I also honored the life taken in a fair fight. He had every opportunity to take mine as I did his, and he recognized that. Here and now, it had become wiping out as many of the enemy as quickly as possible."

Ernest sighed, a sad smile on his face. "It's always been different for you, Maeaonis. You feel war unlike any other living being here. For humans, it's always been survival."

"Then maybe my eyes have finally been opened," she realized. Finishing her coffee, she pushed the cup from her and stood up. "Thank you for your time, Ernest, but I really must be going."

"Must you?" he asked. "We're eternal; where could you go where you can't just go there later?"

She scoffed, though not to be rude. "We may be eternal, but everything and everyone else is not. Good-bye, Ernest."

"Will I see you again?" he asked, reminiscent of old times. Every time they met, he asked that same question.

"If you don't know that, I don't see how you could ever expect me to know," she mused.

"I think we will," he said, such conviction behind his voice. She looked into his eyes and believed him. Though she could not see it as he saw everything else that had happened, was happening, and would happen, she could feel the assuredness of the statement as clearly as he did. Though, under what circumstances they would meet again, she could not say. He sure didn't know.

"I hope we will," she told him in return before politely bowing out and heading back across the street, her scarf billowing behind her.

-.-

Present time

Maea hurried into her apartment, slamming her door shut behind her so hard the frame rattled. She'd have been surprised it hadn't simply broken (she'd closed it pretty hard) had she not been more focused on the current predicament. She went straight to her closet, rifling around for things she didn't need. She felt rushed, almost frantic, with little to no goal to put forth her energy toward.

"Place is a bit of a dump, isn't it?"

She slammed her closet shut, whipping around to see the lone figure of Abechius leaning against the window sill behind him. The apartment was dim with only the lone lamp in the corner to light the room, but she still did not know how she had missed him. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have; she would have sensed him before she had even entered the building. But times were different now. He had made sure of that, she remembered, sparing a glance at the bracelets on her wrists. Innocuous to all, made to match whatever was the current style, hiding an insidious reality behind the façade. To her they were chains; to everyone else they were simply an accessory.

"What do you want?" she hissed, unwilling to stand down. Although at this moment she was surely at a disadvantage, she would never cower before the form of her traitorous brother. She was restrained, but she would never be weak for him.

"Such hostility," he remarked, tutting as he did so, making her bristle. Neither made a move toward the other, though Abechius did allow himself to wander around the room, his hand brushing over and touching various things within her apartment. Most was idle items she owned, always having been one for traveling light. She moved too much to really amass objects. "Is this any way to greet your younger brother?"

"You are no brother of mine," she told him lowly, her eyes never leaving him. She tracked him like a predator and she knew he felt it from the way he twitched, though he tried to look the picture of relaxation.

"Now, that's no way to act," he reprimanded lightly, throwing her a cautious look. Her grip tightened on the door knob behind her and she withheld the gut feeling inside her that told her to rush him. "Father always said family was the most important thing and didn't you always listen to him? You were his favorite. Of that I have no doubt."

"A coward like yourself could never be of my own blood," she hissed darkly. "You are the highest of betrayers."

"Am I?" he asked, his tone taking on an edge. He finally stopped moving and turned to fully face her, an irritated expression on his face. "I could have killed you, but I didn't! In fact, it's now I who must suffer for letting you live."

"And have you come to ask for forgiveness?" she asked incredulously. "If that is what you seek, go home Abe. You left me here to rot."

"I let you live," he reminded her, his voice rising.

"I would have rather died!" she shouted. "I tried to die! This cursed world is too weak for me and you left me here, for what purpose? To ease your own conscious? Couldn't kill me, so you sent me away, trapped me in this god forsaken hell-scape so that you may sleep easily?"

"It's Roth you should be angry at, not me!" he insisted vehemently. "He is the one who wanted you dead and was too prim to do it himself."

"You are both cowards," she stated coldly. "Two men too afraid of their own short-comings."

"Well, he's finally admitting to his," he grumbled, looking skyward. "He's decided that the best approach to getting a job done is to do it himself. I sent you here to spare you, to be merciful—"

"You know nothing of mercy," she cut in.

"—But now I see that was futile," he continued, ignoring her little outburst. "He has found out about my gaffe and now wishes to rectify it."

"He sent the sentry," she realized. "He did not send you."

He snorted. "He wouldn't trust me to wash his hair. The sentry was one of his own personal men, sworn to carry out any task he ordered. He was ordered to engage with you, assess your situation. He knows you are not at your fullest, Nissie."

"Do not call me that," she hissed.

"But what, you may call me Abe?" he chuckled. "Then what to call you?"

"Maeaonis works fine," she informed him.

"Fine, Maeaonis," he sighed, rolling his eyes and she growled. "This time, he has come to wipe you out. He will ensure you never reclaim Father's throne."

She snorted. "Is this what it is all about for him? You have left me helpless here. What good can I do?"

"He believes that long as you breathe, you pose a threat to his kingship," Abe explained. "The power has gone straight to his head and made him paranoid."

"And so, you have come to warn me?" she asked him, absurdity lacing her tone.

"Who was that girl?" he asked suddenly. "The one you were with before?"

"And so now you are spying on me as well?" she asked, avoiding the inquiry.

"I happened to be observing," he explained exasperatedly. "So, who was she? She exceeds the level of strength that a mere mortal should possess."

"She is of no concern to you," Maea said, her tone unyielding. "Now I suggest you leave before I make you regret ever visiting."

"No need to be so harsh, I will leave," he responded, walking toward the front door. She watched his every step, not even blinking. He opened the door, stopping before he stepped out. "And may I suggest finding a new home? This place hardly seems fitting for someone of your caliber." Before she could say anything in response, he was out the door, shutting it lightly behind him. She knew it would be of no use to go after him; she'd open the door and he would be gone, having vanished from the hallway. She could not even be sure that that had truly been him in her apartment. His tricks were vast and hard to spot, and she had had little success spotting them in the past. He could just as easily have been a projection as the real thing.

Letting out a pained roar, she slammed her fists against the doors of her closet, cracking through the flimsy wood easily. Now was not the time for mindless destruction, but for the moment, she would allow herself one concession. Because tomorrow, with the impending arrival of Virothan, she would need to start preparing. Despite his shortcomings, he was dangerous in his own right and if he was coming, it could easily spell the end for humankind.