Part XLVI: The Lost Night

It wasn't hard to find his trail.

His comrades were scattered along the back alleyways of Canterbury, like discarded bread crumbs leading up to him. She was close; she could tell by the worsening of the carnage as she approached. The maimed and broken bodies he had left in his wake. The blood that spilled and pooled and diluted in the falling rain. She could only pray that none of it was his.

She clicked her tongue as she passed over the groaning, pained mortals, registering, distantly, that Levi seemed to have taken care not to kill them. But she had no time to consider what that meant. Time was fast slipping between her fingers, and she could feel the danger breathing down his neck. The maddening sensation intensified the closer she drew to him, robbing her of all logical thought. She had no time to think of what a few mortal souls could mean on the undying scales that would determine his afterlife. For now, keeping him alive outweighed all other concerns.

She clung to the shadows, skirting like little more than a wind past the roads where the fighting was thickest, mortal hands at mortal throats like so many hopeless fools, but still she had not found him. With a sense of mounting frustration, she pulled free from the shadows, assuming her corporeal form, only to regret it instantly as her injuries also took form once more.

Pain lanced through her body with a burning vengeance but she fought against it, panting as she tried to override the survival instinct that begged her to stop, to rest, to see to her injuries. Slayte winced and sucked in a sharp gasp as she took in her surroundings. He had to be nearby, but where?

A shrieking flare shot up into the sky, leaving a trail of red smoke in its wake, causing all thought to flee the shadow nymph's mind as she spun on her heel and took in its trajectory.

To her surprise, men and women in suits stepped wordlessly out of the nearby buildings as if summoned by the red smoke. They exchanged curt nods and began bolting towards the source of the noise. Others raced in the opposite direction, equally armed and ready for action, each group clearly operating on precise orders. Orders that had been put into action with the sight of that flare.

Slayte frowned as an anxious sense of foreboding crept through her, whispering confirmation of her greatest fears. She receded into the shadows and kept pace with the mortals racing towards the flare, certain that wherever they were headed, she would find Levi as well.

She followed them down the winding, interconnected side roads, dread growing as she considered what she might find at the end of these pathways. Their hasty rush ended in an alleyway nearly hidden beyond a narrow passageway between two buildings. It ended in a brick wall - an effective dead end - and in the center of that dark alley, under the incessant drizzle of rain, two men stood at odds - each eyeing the other, ready to strike.

One of the two, a bearded blond, she noted, held some sort of weapon in his hands, red smoke still wafting up from the barrel. Clearly, he had been the one to fire the flare and thus summon the seven or so men and women who had come to his aid. They stood in a semi-circle with their guns raised, sorely outnumbering his opponent. Still, Slayte could see fear hidden in the depths of his eyes. The fear of a man who knew he was not out of danger, even with every advantage on his side.

But the man standing across from him was as a demon, barely restrained. Rain dripped from his black locks, the cutting edge of his glare sharper than the knife he held in his hands. His posture firm, confident, the bearing of one who knew no fear. There was bloodlust laid bare in those eyes, simmering there like molten silver. That one did not care that he was surrounded with no way out, he did not care for the flecks of blood on his hands and face, or the imminent threat the other posed. Perfectly composed, even in the face of certain death, weighing his options - that one was hers.

An impossible moment stretched between them, hanging in the balance like time frozen as the two men eyed each other, and then she saw the decision Levi had made almost before he had consciously arrived there himself. Eliminating his opponent took clear precedence over his own safety.

No, she realized with a sinking sense of dread. It not only took precedence - he was going to sacrifice himself to ensure his opponent was taken care of.

Ice flowed through her veins. Jagged, sharp and painful - robbing the breath from her lungs. He intended to die? Without her?

The betrayal of it caught her off guard. The very realization felt like a kind of death in itself. And with a sick quickening, her body reacted before her mind could rightly follow.

She rushed forward just as Levi bolted as well, knife poised to strike. Slayte collided with him, throwing him off course and sending the incoming bullets awry. She felt them go through her shadow form, rendered utterly harmless.

Levi slammed into the brick wall behind him, but she could not summon the part of herself that usually flared with concern whenever he was hurt. He was alive to feel pain, wasn't he? And by no merit of his own.

No, he would have left her behind. She couldn't grasp the concept. For all he censured her time and time again, for all he swore he would not let her leave him… he would have gone to his death, willingly, and left her behind. Even worse, she suspected, the thought of her had likely not even crossed his mind.

She held him firmly in place, concealing him with the shadows of her element, until the danger passed. She could feel his pulse racing, his chest rising and falling still, with the adrenaline that coursed through him as he fought against her hold. But she would not give him over to the Underworld.

He seemed to think that death was naught but a moment, but he was wrong. It was an eternity. One she was in no haste to relinquish him to.

The enemies milling about, searching for him, gave her no trouble. She knew that Levi was as invisible to their mortal eyes now as she herself was and mortals always relied far too heavily on what their eyes could see. She heard them curse and shout, confused as to how he could have disappeared into thin air, but she paid them as little heed as she would dogs barking in the night.

She watched, instead, Levi's perplexed expression. The blood and rain tracing familiar paths over his beloved features. He wasn't quite the Levi she knew at that moment. Not the sea of calm whose tides she readily gave herself up to without a thought. Not the soft touch of moonlight that kissed her when she wavered in darkness.

No, he was a valley of fire now, ready to burn all that approached. He was an unrepentant demon, ready to drag the damned back to hell with him. And the sight of it sent chills down her spine. There was no side of him that could make her love him any less, no action he could take that would diminish the overpowering depth of affection that lay barely contained within her, always. And yet, she feared he might not love himself when the blaze of his anger subsided. Worried he would avoid looking in the mirror. Worried he would no longer hold his head as high.

She wanted to speak to him, to comfort him, but she didn't trust herself to abandon her shadow form. For one, the pain of her injuries was fast becoming more than she could bear and for another, she didn't trust herself to face Levi at that moment. As much as she wanted to offer him solace, another part of her wanted to shake him, to shout at him, to ask him if he had even considered her in the moment he had charged at that damned blond. But she couldn't allow herself to be that selfish. He was suffering, too.

Why?

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of what she had seen. What would prompt him to throw himself to his own demise that way? The Levi she knew, the one who had kissed her at the door to the tea shop as if he wanted to steal away her soul for safekeeping, would never have been so reckless with his own life. So, what… ?

They were his family.

The natural conclusion hit her with a moment of sudden clarity. It wasn't that she mattered so little, it was that they mattered so much. His uncle, he had said, was the leader of this ragtag group of bandits. And clearly, he meant far more to Levi than he had let on. That must have been the true reason Levi had allowed them to lay their hands on him at the tea shop. The reason he had covered the repairs out of pocket instead of holding them responsible.

Not because he had no choice, but because they were his family, still. Even after all this time.

And if they were his family, she accepted begrudgingly, then they were hers as well.

She waited until the group retreated, until she could no longer hear their footfalls echoing back along the alleyway before releasing him with some reluctance. She had to let him go. Had to let him do what he needed to.

He wasn't like her. He didn't make choices he regretted. That was his life's motto, wasn't it?

She watched him from the shadows, his puzzled expression when he was freed at last, the way he stared at his own hands, where the lingering shadows fell away most slowly. She wondered if he knew it was her. Wondered if he could recognize her essence. She wanted to reach out - to touch him again - but she restrained herself.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out in the night air, startling them both, and Levi's head shot up, his gaze turning towards the road that led back to where the fighting had been. Without a moment's delay, he took off in the direction of the sound.

Slayte watched him go, anxious beyond measure. He wasn't being targeted by underworld creatures, as she had feared, but fighting demons of a human nature. This was his territory. She had to trust him. What else could she do? When it came to protecting those who were dear to him, there was no risk he wouldn't take.

That was a sentiment she understood only all too well.

There were too many of them. Like a roach infestation - all of Zeke's little underlings. The way they spilled through the alleyways like a flood, hands poised to strike - with whatever weapons they had on hand. They fell upon the Eldian Devils wherever they found them, and Levi's comrades, disoriented and caught off guard by this turn of the tide, fell to the ground like domino tiles - one after another, any resistance they offered too little, too weak, to make a difference.

The Yeagerists were simply too many, too well-armed, too quick. They had no qualms about taking any lives. They struck to kill, well aware that Zeke Yeager could cover their asses. It wasn't about disarming their opponents for them - but disabling them permanently.

But the lifeless faces that looked up from the rain-soaked pavement belonged to people he knew. Some he had broken bread with, others had cried to him about their failed love lives, others still had admired him - and sworn to follow in his footsteps. Even after all these years, he was stunned to see how many of them he still knew. And how many of them had been taken too soon, without remorse.

It came with the territory, he knew. One always ran the risk of death, but not like this. Not stomped out, en masse, like they were less than human.

To kill or not to kill?

There was no time to make that choice. It wasn't up to Levi. He could only choose to die - or not. And not dying meant killing the bastard in front of him, the one with a shitty revolver aimed at Levi's face. If he didn't kill Levi outright now, he would kill one of Levi's friends later. And Levi was no longer willing to take that risk.

The first time he used his knife with intent to kill that night, a visceral disgust consumed him - an overpowering nausea. He would have contemplated that feeling, he might have retched with self-loathing, but there was simply no time. Within seconds that same knife was stuck in the throat of another man - one whose gun had been aimed at Ouruo. Levi had scarcely felt the blade fly from his fingers, acting on instinct.

It was us and them. That sentiment was familiar and dangerous. We needed to survive, and they needed to die. The logical part of him had been put to rest, the part that knew an eye for an eye would leave the whole world blind. The part that knew humanity and civilization needed to rise above such base instincts.

All that was left was a desire to protect - at any cost.

He didn't hear his comrade's word of thanks as he retrieved his knife. Two deaths in a span of seconds, the blood of two men dripped from his blade, but the night was far from over and Levi suspected he would soon lose count.

The younger Ackerman made his way through the fray, his movements fluid and rhythmic, as if these were the practiced steps of a well-rehearsed dance. The music to which only he could hear. Gunshots setting the beat, the familiar song of violence crescendoing in screams. All of it familiar, his feet and hands moved by instinct, deadly wherever they came to rest. He wasn't fast - the others were just slow. Their movements too predictable. And it was so much easier when he stopped worrying about whether or not to spare them.

It wasn't hard to kill them. There was no mental barrier to overcome. There had never really been one to begin with. He'd been taking lives since before he'd learned how to make a cup of ramen. Had learned how to hold a knife before he'd learned how to hold a pencil. He was made for this. For one bloodbath after another. Everything within him cooperated, his mind and body and soul, as if finally releasing a pent up breath he had been holding for far too long. He'd avoided it for years, holding back, not because it weighed on his conscience, not because it was unbearable for him to take the life of another - but because it was so fucking easy .

It could become a habit without him even taking notice. It had been a habit, once. And even after all these years of retirement, the terrified faces of his opponents made clear that they had not forgotten. He was like an alcoholic, one who knew he had to stop drinking, but wasn't quite convinced that it was wrong. And what did Levi's retirement do for anyone, anyway? People were still dying, just the wrong people.

His remorse served no one. Trying to coddle his conscience, trying to turn a new leaf, just to indulge his sense of worth. Just to convince himself that he was better than this. How many lives had that cost? Were those lives a price worth paying to feed his sense of moral superiority? Would he give up his own life to be a goddamned-upstanding-motherfucking-citizen?

No more.

It was kill or be killed, and Levi had already screwed up once.

There was no way he was leaving Slayte alone in this shitty world. No way he would be as quick to accept death as he had been when working these streets in the past.

What had happened before, in the alleyway with Zeke, had been a slip-up. Falling back into old habits. He could not be that careless again. He had something worth living for now. And even if the lives he took that night would be the ruin of his afterlife, at least he would spend his time living until that point with her .

She would forgive him for killing. She wouldn't forgive him dying.

She was the only god who mattered, to his thinking. Her judgment was the only one he cared about.

So he turned as he sensed the swish of a blade incoming, dodging the strike smoothly he used his blade with disregard, digging it into his attacker's back - clean through his right lung. He pulled his knife free, well aware that it meant the death of his opponent. Levi did not so much as spare him a glance as he fell, already moving onto his next target. Every single one of them a stand-in for Zeke, who deserved death the most. The bastard who had unleashed this chaos.

Every life lost was another life saved. And the lives saved actually meant something to him. It was simply the price to be paid. If his knife could tip the scales, then he was damned well going to make sure they tipped in his favor.

And as he hacked his way through the masses, shouting orders to those close enough to hear, and providing some organization to the ragged group, he lost something of himself.

It was as if a demon had slumbered within him - and someone had prodded it awake. He felt neither remorse nor regret. His veins were alive with the thrill of the fight, with the plain knowledge of what he could do when he stopped holding back. The accurate assessment that there wasn't a man or woman on those streets that was his equal.

He could cut through all of them until his dagger went dull. Until his blade rested on Zeke's throat.

He didn't know if it was rain or blood that had soaked his clothing through to the skin, and he didn't care. He had come to do a job - and he was going to get it done.

The night crept on, and the Devils caught wind of Levi's stalwart resistance. Of the fact that he, alone, was gaining ground against the damned Yeagerists and soon they rallied beside him, pushing the offensive.

In the chaos of the gunfire, men broke and fell like spiders from gossamer-thin webs torn through. Buildings burned and Levi knew it was only a matter of time before the authorities rushed in. He planned to be gone by then. But he also planned to take down another dozen bastards before that time came.

When a hand landed on his shoulder, Levi spun on his heel, blood flying from his knife as he raised it over his head to strike - only to stop suddenly as he saw Ouruo's terrified face.

"I- it's the boss…" Ouruo stammered, terror garbling his words as he glanced over his shoulder, back the way he had come.

The fire in Levi settled as if he had been doused with water. Kenny's absence had registered in the back of Levi's mind, but he had tried not to think about that or about what it had to mean. But
Ouruo's terrified expression, his willingness to brave Levi's rampage to haul him out of the fighting, could only mean one thing.

Catching his breath, he glanced towards his companions, who quickly closed ranks behind him. Annie sent him a curt nod, signalling they would finish what he had started, and push the remaining Yeagerists out of the city.

With a returning nod, Levi allowed Ouruo to lead him out of the wreckage. Annie was right, the battle was as good as won. Zeke would not be back so soon. The territories Kenny had set out to claim were unmistakably theirs now.

If only he lived to celebrate the victory.

Levi did not want to think about the very real possibility that his uncle would have already departed this world. That he would not be able to make his goodbyes. Zeke would have gone after Kenny first - just as Levi had intended to strike Zeke down preemptively. But the Devils did not function as the Yeagerists did. They would keep fighting, even without their leader. They would fight on, even if only one man was left standing.

As they turned into yet another alleyway, he saw his uncle, leaning against a wall of grey brick, the wall at his back reddened with his blood. Kenny's face was cast in the shadow of his signature cowboy hat, veiling his expression and Levi's blood ran cold at the sight of him. He hadn't realized until that very moment, until the instant he stood there, wavering, unsure if he still lived - just how much his bastard of an uncle meant to him.

He approached carefully, not quite willing to ascertain for himself whether or not the older man was alive. Afraid to be disillusioned. Afraid he had missed his chance to say goodbye.

Kenny coughed suddenly, then, causing Levi to release a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"The hell did you get yourself into, old man?" His words were empty of their usual bite as Levi hastened towards him now, and knelt on the wet pavement, his eyes passing over him in a quick assessment of Kenny's wounds.

"Did 'em in good, did ya, kiddo?" Kenny grinned weakly, pride twinkling in his eyes.

"Just like you wanted," Levi muttered bitterly.

"Ah," Kenny released a low breath and leaned back against the wall behind him, letting his eyes slide shut. "We can die easy now, you and I."

"I don't know about you," Levi scowled, his sharp gaze flitting over his uncle's form - assessing his injuries, the first-aid he would require, "but I'm in no hurry to darken hell's doorstep." Levi tore Kenny's shirt clean through with his knife, to better assess the damage, and cast Ouruo a sharp glance, "Call an ambulance."

The other man seemed taken aback but Levi paid him no heed, he knew his uncle would be against professional medical care, and the legal hell that would follow, but if Kenny was alive, then what did the consequences matter? Instead, he pulled the bloodied fabric of Kenny's shirt away to better observe the gunshot wound in his abdomen. It was bleeding far too much, far too quickly. Even if he found something to use as bandages, it would not stem the bleeding. He needed to pack the wound, but if it the bullet had gone clear through him, then… Kenny's hand shot out and caught on to Levi's wrist with a strength that was surprising from a man so close to breathing his last.

"Oi," Levi's brows furrowed as he returned his uncle's steely gaze. "You're taking your prickly ass to the hospital. You owe me."

"Tch," Kenny spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement and Levi's nose wrinkled in disgust. "And then what? Spend the rest of my old age in a jail cell? I ain't ever seen the inside of one and I'm not about to start now."

"Kenny," Levi's voice was low now, simmering with something akin to anger as his steel eyes flashed in warning. "You'll die."

"Brighter than you look, eh?" Kenny teased.

"Don't fuck with me," Levi seethed. "What did I do all this for, if you're just going to go dying on me?"

"We needed it." Kenny released Levi's forearm at last, too tired to hold onto it any longer. "Revenge."

" You needed it." Levi corrected with a frown, any feelings attempting to creep up on him held firmly at bay by the task at hand. If he bandaged Kenny's wounds, if he applied pressure, if he took all the right steps… would that be enough to save his life? Tearing off his own shirt, he made quick work of the cotton, ripping it into bandage-like strips and began packing the wound, trying not to worry about the risk of infection. "I didn't give a damn about your territorial feuds."

Kenny barked a laugh that quickly devolved into another bloody cough. "You think this is about territory?" He shook his head wearily.

"Shut up," Levi ignored him, deciding he could not afford the distraction and tied a firm knot of the cotton he had wrapped around his uncle's midsection, but he could already see that it did little to stem the flow of blood. He was beginning to despair that there was anything he could do to stop the blood flowing. "Call the shitty ambulance!" he barked at Ouruo, who jumped but remained otherwise motionless.

Ouruo turned away sadly, unable to look at the two of them any longer. He could not summon an ambulance. Not only out of respect for Kenny's wishes and the gang who would be caught up in the ensuing chaos - but also for Levi, who had wanted to live a different life, who had wanted to wash his hands of all of this - who would undoubtedly be caught up in the interrogations should an ambulance, and then the police, arrive.

"No, boy." Kenny's eyes sought out Levi's and a familiar fire burned in their steel depths. "I'll haunt your ass to hell and back if you call a goddamned ambulance. No, listen to me, you brat. Who d'you reckon it was, stole your mother from home? Who d'you think it was, kept her prisoner all those years?"

Levi stilled, suddenly. For all the years he had spent asking his uncle to tell him about his mother, asking for anything, even the faintest memory of her - of what she had been like before life collected its dues, before she had fallen ill, Kenny had maintained a stalwart silence. The older man had simply teased him about being a mama's boy, a sentimental crybaby, until Levi had stopped asking.

Levi had long since realized that Kenny's behavior had been a result of his own unresolved grief and accepted the matter. He had never expected his uncle to bring his mother up again of his own accord.

Kenny heaved a rattling sigh, bitter and full of grief. "Didn't even know where she was until she smuggled out a message, asking me to come get you."

He raised his arm with great effort and gestured around them weakly, at the flames rising ever higher, at their blood-stained faces, at the sirens sounding in the distance. "You think this is hell?" He let his arm fall, almost relieved to be free of its weight. "No, kiddo. Hell is what I raised to get you out of there."

He attempted a smile, but it manifested as little more than a pain-addled grimace. "And look at you now. Kuchel would be proud."

Levi averted his gaze, coming to terms with the revelations Kenny had laid bare. The Yeagerists had been responsible for his mother's plight? He did not remember her well, but had always assumed that circumstances had forced her to make the difficult choice of the life she had chosen to lead. But he had always believed it had been just that - her choice.

To learn that she had been forced to live that way? That he had likely been forced onto her as well? Her weak smile was all that was left of her memory. He knew she had loved him despite their circumstances, but what sort of life could she have led, if she had only been given a choice?

And Kenny, as well, had founded the Devils at a young age and had been their confident leader ever since. Had that been because of the Yeagerists? Because they had kidnapped his sister? How many lives had been forever changed because of their utter disregard for innocent bystanders?

Levi's hand clenched into a fist as his mind reeled with the implications. His family hadn't been outcasts that society looked down upon from the start. The Yeagerists had made them that way. And although he'd claimed he had not needed revenge, he knew well that he had killed men for slighter offenses.

"It was my time," Kenny coughed, bringing Levi back to the present. "And now it's yours."

Levi met his mentor's gaze, his own conflicted, emotions laid bare as they seldom were as it dawned on him that this truly was goodbye. "I never wanted this."

"I know, I know," Kenny sighed. "But you've a talent for it I've never seen before. And ain't a man among them who wouldn't follow you after what you've done today."

Levi frowned, "I don't give a shit about that." Emotions warred within him, he had no doubt he could lead them, no doubt he could crush the remaining Yeagerists into the dirt, but that wasn't the life he had wanted in the past. It would be another life lost to insurmountable circumstances. In truth, the only reason he had accompanied them on their mission… "I came here for you. Because you asked me to."

It was as much affection as Levi could put into words. A vague attempt at burying the hatchet. At conveying to his uncle that all of his efforts and care were not lost on Levi, as unorthodox as they were.

"Aye," Kenny agreed with a wry grin, blood and spittle clinging to his lips. He had expected as much. Levi had walked in his footsteps, had grown up in his shadow - but he deserved his place in the light. "and you still have your demon lady waiting back home, eh?"

Levi's brows furrowed, caught off-guard. "What do you -"

But Kenny cut him off before he could finish, dismissing his previous suggestions, deciding Levi was man enough to choose his own destiny. "You don't need to worry so much about the aspirations of a dead man. Decide for yerself, and it looks like you're decision is already made, regardless." Kenny's steely gaze caught, briefly, on the ring hanging from Levi's neck, resting against his bare skin now. "She may not be like us, but she'll do right by you."

Levi bristled. There it was again, mention of his deepest secret, his surest weakness. There was not a soul he trusted when it came to Slayte, and Kenny having mentioned her - twice now - put him on guard. "Why bring her into this?"

"Don't interrupt me, asshole," Kenny barked with a sharp glance at his nephew, "these are my last words." The two Ackerman men glared at one another, fighting against emotions both unfamiliar and painful. At length, Kenny confessed quietly, "I'm giving everything into your hands, boy. What you do with it is up to you. You don't have to lead them, you don't have to do anything."

Kenny sucked in a long, rattling breath, "She's right. You ought to do what pleases you. Do what makes you happy so that Kuchel can see I did right by you. You'll do that for me, won't you, boy?"

Levi went still, confused by his uncle's change of heart. Kenny's intentions in dragging Levi into an attack of this scale had not been lost on him. He had suspected Kenny had wanted to bring Levi back into the thick of it, back into the heart of the gang's affairs, so that he wouldn't be able to extricate himself again so easily. What could possibly have changed the stubborn old man's mind?

"Was she here?"

"Aye," Kenny nodded slowly, weakly. "Didn't think you'd believe me, to be honest. Right little beast, that one."

He gave Levi a long stare, as if committing his image to memory. "Loves you though, I'll give her that. Good to know you won't be alone."

Levi found he could not form words if he tried. He could do nothing but kneel there, petrified, as he watched the life bleed out of his only family. His torn shirt had done little to treat the injury. With the amount of blood lost, it was a wonder Kenny was still talking at all.

Levi still wanted the ambulance. Wanted someone to come and try to save him. At this point, he would even take shit-for-brains. But Kenny had made his choice clear, and Levi had no right to take that from him.

"Can't…" Kenny coughed and tried again, sweat beading on his forehead as his vision blurred and weakness overwhelmed him. He felt his strength waning faster now, sensed that his time was nigh. "See you so well… C'mere…" There was a note of desperation in his voice, as if he were willing to give up his life without complaint, but not without the sight of his nephew, his protegé, his family.

Levi acquiesced quickly, approaching Kenny even as his own throat constricted, thick with emotion. His face was inches from his uncle's when the older man stopped squinting as Levi's countenance came into focus and released a sigh that seemed to come from the marrow of his very bones. The scent of it - of whiskey and tobacco, settled in Levi's nose, bitter and familiar. All the memories of his childhood were wrapped up in that scent.

"Was always you, boy." Kenny mumbled, almost too low for him to hear, his blue-ringed grey eyes fixed firmly on his nephew. "Always."

And then, without warning, there was no light left behind those eyes that so mirrored his own. And then, he was alone.

No sooner did Slayte assume human form on the tea shop's doorstep, intent to put things to rights before Levi returned, than she fell to her knees, gasping for air.

She had been injured before - had suffered loss of limb, even - but nothing to this extent. The accursed harpy had impaled her clear through with its talons and with no way to accelerate her healing on the surface, she was bleeding out faster than even her regenerative powers could cope with. Thanatos had come to her rescue the last time she had cut it this close, but now… she glanced at her arm, where the damned cuff curled around her limb like a burning brand, paining her still. The price she had to pay for summoning power that wasn't there. If the bit of scrap metal was still functional, she could have used it to summon the darkness of the Underworld - to feed on it until she was whole again, but as things stood…

The warnings of her Underworld companions echoed in her ears - that death on the surface, away from her element, meant true death - one she would not return from. She wasn't truly immortal on the mortal plane, she knew, but had never come close enough to dying to have given it due thought - until now.

Slayte released a shaky breath and, dragging herself towards the tea shop, sank against its walls, resting on the hard pavement. A cursory glance at her injuries revealed that she had gone far too long forcing herself through the pain.

The full extent of her injuries dawned on her now with painful clarity. For all she had convinced herself of the contrary, she realized that these were injuries her compromised immortality on the surface could not overcome.

Already, her dark blood was spilling from countless wounds, pooling around her. Slayte bit her lip, fighting back whimpers of pain. She couldn't stay in shadow form indefinitely - and to what end? It was either die here or flee to the Underworld as a shadow, to heal herself with the dark nature of the realm - but with no way to return. And what had she fought against those harpies for, if she was going to go back there on her own two feet?

She refused to consider the notion. She had been lucky to escape once, she doubted that luck would hold a second time. Not now, where she was already being hunted. And although Thanatos had permitted her to stay on the surface for the time being, allowing her to leave the Underworld again - should she return - would likely be another story entirely. Was her life worth her freedom? Was it worth leaving Levi behind without a word? Absolutely not.

She squeezed her eyes shut as her heart constricted with sorrow. She couldn't do that to him. Not when he had just lost his only family.

That strange encounter came to mind as she struggled to slow her breathing, to calm her racing heart, to tame the onslaught of panic that accompanied unbearable pain. She had stumbled across him on her way out of that interconnected web of alleyways and side roads, as she escaped the fighting to make her way back home. And although she had been determined to ignore him at first, to tend to her own pressing injuries, the sight of the accursed old man who had gotten Levi wrapped up in all of this nonsense gave her pause. There he had been, sprawled across the pavement, bleeding and helpless. The very one who had led Levi down an errant path that had been the cause of so much grief. The arrogant mortal who had doomed his own nephew's afterlife.

He had been fast fading, his injuries rivaling her own, and although she had told herself to do just that she had been unable to leave him there to die. So she had shielded him against her better judgment, concealing him from his opponents as they passed and using a partial shadow form to prevent his injuries from bleeding out before Levi could get there and say his goodbyes. There was little else she could do, even as her own injuries had made her lightheaded and set her ears ringing.

She hadn't attempted to hide what she was from him and, thinking about it now, she wasn't sure why. Perhaps she had simply been too exhausted to deliberate the machinations she would require to perpetuate the falsehood and still be of help to him. Perhaps she had accurately surmised that he wasn't much longer for this world anyway and would know the truth of matters soon enough. Perhaps, she had wanted to be truthful with Levi's only family.

Or maybe she had just wanted to scare him.

She considered him now. Wondering if his soul had gone on to the underworld - collected by Thanatos. There was no hope for him in the next life, she knew, and his life on the surface had known no joy either. How could it have? He had condemned himself to a life of crime, was ever on the run, and had lost touch with his only family. It saddened her that someone so dear to Levi had led such a miserable life. Even if he had committed countless sins, she realized now, that his love for Levi, at least, had been genuine. That alone ought to absolve him of his crimes - to her thinking.

"Who do you think it was, made him what he is?" That gruff voice echoed in her ears, still. "I took that boy and made him into a man. Protecting himself, protecting you… I taught him how to do that. So, you can hate my guts for it all you want, but I kept him safe - you can't argue that."

Safe…

She had scoffed at him. It was hard to stomach those words when Levi had come so close to death mere moments ago, when his afterlife hung precariously in the balance, and when the very mortal who was to blame for all of that was helpless beneath her hands. When, instead of twisting up his insides until he screamed - she was prolonging his wretched life.

Levi deserved better, and she had told him as much, but the old man was unrepentant.

" People like us," Kenny had rasped, "Always get the short end of the stick, when we're pretendin' to be summat else than what we are. Levi's just the same, he can't ignore it forever. You can take Levi out of the fight, but you can't take the fight outta him."

Her head had been spinning and she hadn't felt great about arguing with a dying man - even one she despised. "He deserves to be happy," she had said. "He deserves to be loved, and he deserves to say goodbye - so shut up and let me concentrate."

She didn't know which of them was right. There was some truth to the old rogue's words, she had seen as much in the feral look in Levi's moonlit eyes when he charged at his opponents that night. But she didn't think that facet of him was the sum of who he was. If so, then who was the Levi that held her at night and traced her features tenderly with the gentlest of touches? Surely, Levi as a whole was someone able to encompass both of those extremes - and many more besides.

That had been the end of their conversation and although Kenny's eyes had widened when he realized that she was manipulating actual shadows to stem his bleeding - he did not comment. It was only when she had quietly announced Levi's arrival, hastily preparing to make her escape that Kenny had spoken his last words to her, "Take care of him for me."

She had turned to him with a glare, a thousand words on her tongue at the audacity of his request. That he would ask that of her . As if he was the one who truly cared for Levi and she were some outsider - some interloper.

When he was the one who had dragged Levi back into this nightmare against his will, only to leave him behind to deal with the authorities, with the mental fallout that would no doubt follow on the heels of having compromised his principles, not to mention the loss of his uncle, the responsibility Levi would no doubt feel for the gang that Kenny was leaving leaderless… how could she possibly undo the damage that Kenny had wreaked with a single night's events?! How dare he pretend that he somehow had Levi's best interests at heart after all that he had done?

But Kenny's next words stilled her protests. "Promise to take care of him… and I'll let him go."

She had heard Levi's familiar footsteps approaching but held the old man's gaze, her own piercing him with cold fury. No doubt, his final words would influence the course Levi would chart after this night. Kenny could lay it on thick, emphasizing the legacy he was leaving behind for his nephew - or he could acknowledge Levi's freedom to choose, and in so doing free his nephew from the burdens of leadership. The burden of leading the kind of life his uncle had led.

She would take care of Levi regardless, whether or not the pretentious mortal asked it of her. Thus deciding, Slayte had nodded solemnly, once, before she dispersed in shadow - like a sigh on the wind.

She sighed at the memory, but the sound died in her throat as the deep breath only served to exacerbate the pain of her wound. Wincing, she adjusted her position against the wall. Would Levi come back from saying goodbye to his uncle - only to find her dead as well? Guilt flooded through her at the thought. She couldn't do that to him - but what else could she do? Without access to the underworld's shadows?

Tears burned at the edges of her vision. She would never have guessed, when Levi had said goodbye to her at this very doorstep, that the world she knew would be so irreparably changed in the span of a single night.

Lifting her eyes to the starry night sky, she wondered briefly if this was precisely what she deserved for letting Elissa be taken to the Underworld alone. Abandoning her to her fate. Some friend she had turned out to be. Levi had put his life on the line for his loved ones - had not even thought of the fact that he was leaving her behind, to protect those dear to him. Did Elissa mean less to her than those men had meant to Levi? Or was she simply more of a coward?

Bitter tears spilled down her cheeks, even as she tried to restrain them, knowing they would only weaken her further. But the feeling of failure, of disappointing her friends, of utter incompetence overwhelmed her. She was an immortal nymph and yet, she had done nothing - absolutely nothing - to protect them. Rather, she was always the one being protected. Appalled at her own audacity, her disloyalty to the ones she considered most precious, her cowardice, she could do little more than weep helplessly; apologies budding and wilting on her tongue without ever coming to bloom.

Dying here would be just another failure. What would Levi do when he found her? Would he lead Kenny's gang as the old man clearly wanted him to - despite his promises to let him go? How would he overcome the grief of her loss? Would he overcome it? She had promised to take care of him - and this was the best she could do? The cruel irony of it was almost bitter enough to make her laugh.

Exhausted, Slayte's head lolled to the side, as the strength to hold it up seeped out of her. Dying scared her - a little. She had thought she still had choices. Had hoped she would be able to make things right. She had foolishly believed she might still see Elissa again. That the night would end with Levi in her arms. But the Fates seemed to be having a laugh of their own at her expense.

Even as darkness tinged the edges of her vision, her weary gaze caught on the inky-black feathers that littered the ground and were slowly being consumed by the ever growing pool of her blood. Slayte blinked at the sight of it, disoriented. She stared at the gleaming black feathers for several moments before her inert mind made sense of what she was seeing.

Black feathers. Itachi's crow.

It, too, had been killed by the harpies, she recalled. But its body had not fully disintegrated into shadow. It lay there on the wet pavement, little more than an arm's reach away from her, wisps of shadow rising up into the air from its prone form.

Like her, a shadow of the Underworld.

No sooner did the thought cross her mind than she acted on it. With trembling arms, she crawled towards the fallen bird and lifted its stiff body in her pale hands. If she could consume what was left of the Underworld's essence within it… would that suffice?

She held the cold, dead bird up to her lips and opened her mouth before she could overthink it. Its cool, smooth beak slid over her tongue and the feathers that followed brushed against the inside of her mouth and then - as if her body recognized her intent, as if like was eager and ready to consume like, her throat expanded and she swallowed the bird whole - her waning essence sucking it in greedily to replenish itself.

Almost immediately, she felt her own element coursing throughout her body, like icy water rushing through a narrow channel as it surged and knit her flesh closed, sealing what had once been split. Pain faded away as the shadows made quick work of her injuries, she felt the hole in her chest heal - beginning with the muscles around her heart and expanding outwards until even the skin on her chest and back regenerated - leaving not so much as a scar where there had once been a gaping hole. The shadows' healing powers feathered over the rest of her form until even the faintest scrapes were fully healed.

As her agony - and with it, her desperation - ebbed, nausea upturned her stomach, threatening to consume her. What had she done? She had eaten a dead bird . The sight of it, stiff and cold, wings askew, was still fresh in her mind. The feel of it in her hands, its feathers against the walls of her mouth. She felt …

Filthy.

The word came to her unbidden, in Levi's voice, accompanied by an expression of disgust written into his features.

Her stomach heaved and she retched where she stood, clinging to the tea shop wall for support. Nothing of substance came up, the bird had disintegrated within her almost immediately, torn apart by her starved essence, but still, she gagged and retched, emptying the paltry contents of her stomach until she could scarcely stand.

She felt disgusting. She felt sick. Elissa's imagined expression of revulsion flashed across her mind. She had swallowed a dead crow whole. She felt… inhuman.

And then she realized, with a horrified start, that that was precisely what she was. With a grimace, she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and understood suddenly, why Lord Thanatos had always made that puzzled, disdainful expression when she spoke of her life on the surface with her friends. As if she were playing house with them. Pretending to be something she was not.

With startling, painful clarity she understood how true that sentiment was. She had not only fooled her friends into thinking her a mortal, she had been deluding herself as well.

Her true self was this, she realized, staring unseeingly down at her trembling hands.

A monster.

-

Well! This was a depressing, LS heavy chapter. Truth be told, this chapter and the previous one were written as one chapter but had to be split because it was just way too long.

I'd love to hear what you think on all of this development!

(No emoji commentary unfortunately, as I've been informed it doesn't work on this platform. T_T)