Black Crowns: Hallowed Be Thy Fall

A Hellaverse (Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss) Story

Episode 2:

Sweet and Herbal

"It is fairly inaccurate, is it not?" She asked, as she examined the statue before her. A larger-than-life crafting of marble that depicted the worst day of her life, the end of it. "I cannot help but enjoy it. For so long, I had turned men into stone and from such, I learned to appreciate the beauty in a moment in time, forever made immortal."

"Hard to say anything is immortal about stone. Paint fades and leaves nothing behind but white, eventually. All things from the past became filtered out. Bleached by the sun and time." Daän retorted, standing beside her and his eyes ironically fixated on her and her alone. "As for immortality, even memories turn into something else. Truth becomes legend and legend becomes myth."

"Is that how you truly see it?" The way she turned her head toward him was eerie. He could swear that he heard the sound of stone scraping across stone in the process of it. "I wonder how many statues of men I left up in the world above. I wonder if… historians and scholars still ponder if they were just ornamentation and not retaliation for those who so sought my head."

Sister Grey was a monster that dressed as a nun, but to some people in Hell, the opposite was true as well. Her habit was rendered in black, which included a distinctive white wimple and veil that fell behind her head. A black cross, which matched the same obsidian tone of her Black Crown, rested upon her chest on a string of rosary beads.

He would never admit it outloud, but Daän had a weakness now for her. Her face was even whiter than her wimple and the iris of her eyes were like that of mercury, to match his own.

It was easy for him to forget that beneath that habit, was a pit of snakes.

"How do I see it…?" Daän had asked himself now. As if he hadn't done enough self-reflecting in the past week since moving into the former House of Woe with her. "I suppose I prefer truth to beauty now. My own, once-lived life being a myth has been disorientating to say the least."

"A romantic way of putting it. To think a Hero has such a head on his shoulders." The words she used were deliberately cheeky. With a somewhat solemn face, white-gloved hands brought together in the illusion of prayer, Grey examined the statue for a final time before eventually focusing entirely on the sinner who was once the man depicted in it. "You didn't raise your head in such a way, in reality, did you?"

"Of course not. Hermes had contorted the statue on his way out, told me to smile more and to be more prideful. Something of that manner." Clearly, even Daän was confused exactly by his own relationship and pact with the 'Heavenly-Messenger'. The more the two worked together, the more uneven it became. Despite being so far into the depths of the consequences of it all, Daän had no intent to turn back now, regardless. "I didn't feel any joy taking your head at that time. If anything, I felt… something beyond even guilt."

"There is no joy in slaying women. Beast or otherwise." Grey recounted this long-learned fact. It was more a reminder to Daän that it was entirely the right thing to feel. "You regretted taking Lamia's life too, did you not?"

"The armour that Hermes gave me, it nearly burned me alive because of it." The fallen Hero's hand patted against his pained chest. Beneath his tunic was a torso thoroughly bandaged. Not only had he been scalded by the silver, Lamia traced many deep lacerations across his flesh. Even now, his bandages were soaked in blood that had several crimson drops emerge in stains through the tunic. "He failed to tell me that due to its angelic origin, the damn thing would roast me if I committed a sin. But only if I believed it was a sin."

"Tragic. Sounds like it would make for an interesting part in a myth." Sister Grey teased. "And what of the sword he gave you? Will it cut you, as well, if you hesitate in fighting another Black Crown?"

"I am sure there is some literal double-edged trick to it. Hermes loves that shit a little too much." Exasperated with him already, Daän wished that he did not have to run into him again soon. "Every step forward I make in this pact, he somehow has me back pedal even more. The end is hardly in sight."

"Was it all a test, then?" Her clothed fingers tapped inaudibly against one another. Curiosity snaked through her body language that made her almost shiver. She wouldn't admit it, but this was exciting to witness it all unfold.

"I think so. Lamia and you, not too different."

"And how is that?" A hint of offense was in the air.

"Well… Hera jealousy toyed with Lamia's life, in the same way Athena did yours. Both of you got turned into something otherworldly." Daän had attempted to explain, but Grey was quick to retort and re-clarify certain things.

"Remarkable input." But first, her words bore some sarcastic malice. "I was beautiful, sure, but I was also always a woman of a temple. Lamia was a sorceress who carved her own temple from nothing, I was a priestess of Athena and served in her temple by choice. My own will was with who I saw as a true Goddess…"

Slowly and with a unique cadence to her step, Sister Grey began to retrace some steps back into the inner sanctum. Much of the glass and blood had been cleaned up, her own doing. The place was still woeful, but it would soon come to emulate something more tasteful.

"I sought not any man and seduced none. I was a celibate who was pilfered by Poseidon. I was taken advantage of, in a holy place." Grey's head aimed upward, but toward nothing in particular. A force of habit. She was so used to averting her gaze from eye level. "I was desecrated, but it was Athena who cared more about the desecration of her temple. She turned my golden locks into snakes and gave me a heart of stone."

Something inside her head clicked. A connection was made.

"I just realized I had been exiled to an island far away from others… not unlike this temple, that Lamia emulated in her own seclusion. And once more, Hermes has brought me to one." The similarities could not be ignored as a mere coincidence. "He is playing with us both. And in turn for the sword, he also set you upon a mission to slay a beastly woman."

"Never liked being a pawn in the games of others, but that is sadly exactly where I find myself. Dammit." Daän sighed. He had no reason to try and debate this, for he knew it was true too. "Hermes loves parallels and yet, he dissonantly loves contradictions as well. He's eccentric at heart. Must have some reason for all these orders and conditions."

"I guess he must have lent out the other godly gifts." Joked Daän, but it was likely more true than either of them realized. "Out there, Hermes has someone else running about in winged sandals, Hades' helm of invisibility and Athena's mirror-shield. Who knows what the Hell the other champions of Hermes' are doing with them."

"Haa!" Sister Grey's face cracked with a truly mischievous smile. "If I know anything of Greek men, living or dead, they are probably shoving all those gifts up their ass."

"Classy." Somewhat disgruntled now, Daän chose to cast that crude statement aside rather than address it further. "Either way, Hermes must be setting me up for something. He wants more Black Crowns, that much is clear."

"All this for Andromeda…" The name of Daän's love was always bitter in Grey's mouth. "And if Hermes drags you to the Heavens to see her, what are you going to tell her? That you have been seeing other people? Sleeping with the Gorgon you killed?"

"Oh, please, Grey- Err… Medusa. It is not like that." Daän felt it was appropriate to use her actual name from time to time, as if to remind himself and her who they really were. After all, she could not say his true name and that had only fortified his own disillusionment with the pact. "I need to be sure that Athena kept her promise and did well by her."

"Mmmthhss…" An erotic hiss erupted from the disguised nun. "I love it when you say my name like that. It almost makes me forget all the unfortunate things you used my head for."

"Turning Phineas to stone?! You and me both know that asshole had that coming-"

"From using my head to defeat your enemies to getting head from me. Amusing." Truly, the habit-clad Gorgon relished in the fact that she had cuckolded Andromeda. After all, if not for her severed head's use by Perseus, then Andromeda would have never been freed from her sacrificial altar. "Forgive me, I have been devious as of late. Flustering you is an amusing pastime."

"I deserve it, sure, whatever." Daän crossed his arms and huffed silently to himself. "Listen, I know my way of treating women was hardly appropriate at the time. I'll admit you have wisened me up a lot."

"I just enjoy the spotlight, time to time, is all." Admitted Grey. "What can I really blame you for? You were a product of the times. Not like it justifies anything. Of course, what was wrong then is wrong now. But I am… satisfied to know you have grown."

"As much as I love going over my past mistakes in a very compulsive and obsessive manner, I tend to do well enough just upon my lonesome in that self-harming sport. After all, it was a hundred, two hundred years ago. I'm hardly the same Hero I was back then."

"Yet you still find yourself taking orders from Hermes…" Grey's smile was like a snake. It would make any man recoil as it slithered across the white sands of her pale face. "I have teased you long enough, Percy."

"Oh, please, not only are you flirting too close to having Hermes' pact eating me up entirely by nearly uttering my name – the last thing we need is another Percy running around, interacting with Hellenistic legends." Daän was sure to stop that before it could begin. "I have rested long enough, anyways. My wounds may still bleed, but I can walk without wincing at least."

To prove this, Daän took some heavy footed-steps and barely hid his winces as a small tear came to his eye.

"What is it you plan to do? What if someone comes here, thinking it to be a genuine cathedral?" It was a genuine and sound worry expressed by Medusa. "I know that half the reason I wear these garbs is to let everyone think of me as a delusional sinner, who can pray their way to heaven, but what if some actual fools arrive thinking that exact thing?"

"A bunch of sinners seeking reform and rebirth in Heaven, by repenting and overcoming their wicked ways?! Haha!" Quick to scoff at the entire suggestion, Daän shook his head and turned, ready to start his next tasks to be delivered soon by Hermes. "Truly, that may sound like a good story on paper, but I doubt the execution of it would be underwhelming."

"Fine! Walk away and go play hero some more! Just remember if any prospective nuns come this way, I am blaming you for it!" At least with him gone, she could attend to making this place significantly less dreadful and more in-line for what she had in mind for the hideout. But there was one thing she would like to remind Perseus of, before he went away for who knew how long. "Oh, and I love you, Percy!"

Daän was caught off guard by that. He nearly turned back to confront her, but he felt her stone-turning stare propped and at the ready at the back of his head. Oh, how she would enjoy having him around as just a mere statue to have as her own.

"L-love you too…!" A timid reply from a hardly timid man was enough to make her swoon some in his absence. Deep down, Daän knew that there was hardly anything truly romantic between them. She was a powerful ally to him, a victim of his own enemies as well and a trump card of sorts.

He had to keep telling himself that, as he entered the temple's exterior grounds once more from the entrance. A breath of the fresh air of the Pride Ring was due to set his head straight.

The Hero took in a big whiff of sulfur and nearly coughed until the point of vomiting. Now he remembered why he hated this vile place. The taste that still lingered on his tongue forced him to bring the black cloth up to his mouth in concealment again.

"You two are a lovely couple, I really mean it!" The all too familiar voice of Hermes had shaken the atmosphere. Sitting childishly on a ledge above the entrance archway, was the Pact-Demon himself. His fingers idly picked away at imagined soil from his nails and he mockingly flicked something from his lap toward Daän. "Daän, you have a way with the ladies. You really know how to get inside their heads, which is much harder than taking them. Colour me bloody impressed."

"You suggest I'm manipulating her!?" Daän dared to question this logic, his arms out wide at the accusation. Said arms quickly withdrew back to his pained side, the burns and lacerations still tormented him beneath his tunic. "Ergh, dammit all, this pain…"

"Not at all, I am just saying that you and Medusa have amazing chemistry. Andromeda, meanwhile, she always resented that she was the sacrificial lamb rescued by the Hero and not a Heroine herself." Somehow, Hermes had all the right words to twist Daän's heart into knots. "Feel free to get a little angry with me, but I am a man who appreciates the truth above beautifully told fairy tales."

"Oh, I am sure the opposite is true. You were so willing to keep Medusa free of your pacts and you even dropped your claim to her Black Crown, all because you find it amusing that the man who slayed her is now her sole protector." Perhaps it was the agitated state of his injuries that made Daän so especially argumentative with his benefactors on this day. But Hell would have to get much colder before it would actually lead to anything productive. "Banter aside, I am still grateful and I am still willing to put in the work that is required of me. I just hope there is an ending to this story where I can walk away free from you."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Daän. You claim to be grateful and I just do not see it." Hermes gave a wry, crooked smile. "After all I do for you, to think… I am helping you build equity for yourself and your community. Why, I do think, that I may just get a permanent place in Heaven for starting a repentant circle down here that could elevate sinners to Heaven."

"Cute." Disregarded the Hero. "The guest room they have set up for you is not enough?"

"A guest is always a guest, never a neighbor or a peer." Hermes was quick to correct. "It is not enough to be near greatness, I want so greatly to be a part of what they have up there. At the same time, coming down here, well, it makes me humble. I am a vacationer who sees a far and distant, beautiful land and then distance from it makes me as desperate as a refugee to taste its splendor again. Once you get a taste of Heaven, when I let you see your dear Andromeda, you will surely understand."

"And what then? Think that it will unlock some ambition in me that will ensure I work with you forever?"

"Oh, Daän. Forever's a long time." With a swift motion, Hermes hopped from his perch and landed delicately without a sound. The demon was as light as a feather, but fell with the grace of a heavy rock. "You must know that I am, too, just a humble servant. You and I are acting on Heaven's orders."

"Doubt that. Heaven cares not for anyone down here. Although…" Daän gave it a small flicker of thought. "The Black Crowns. I am sure their existence in Heaven is just as contentious as it is down here."

"Too many chiefs and not enough soldiers. That is precisely the problem." The solution to this, according to Hermes, did not need to be reiterated. "It is all a manner of balancing. For years now, living creation, whether they reside in Hell, Heaven or Earth, have all wandered the same forest as hunters, blissfully in the dark. When the light shines on, and trust me – it soon will – no one will want to witness peers among the rival ranks of others."

It didn't need any further explanation, Daän understood the metaphor perfectly, but it was the conditions of how it came to be this way that bothered him the most. With his head shaking, he wanted to give his input as honestly as possible.

"If the Heavens are so incorruptible and incapable of mistakes, why are there living creations alongside mankind that play the part of predators? And why is it that humans are so quick to brutalize themselves worse than any beast could?" To Daän, it made no sense. "I know you have the answer. If I am to work for you any further, you should tell me. Not everything that ruled among humans were meant to be living alongside them, is that right?"

Hermes so greatly enjoyed the curious Perseus. It was bewildering that most did not ask these questions and instead, blissfully buried their own heads into the sands of self-indulgent ignorance.

"Mankind did not fall alone. Angels did, as well. And Angels came to not just Hell, but Earth and laid with humans. From them, these Nephilim offspring – they became mortal Heroes, others became Gods and Goddesses of human religions. Others became true Devils. In the end, everyone's Black Crown is earned by an unfortunate truth." With a slow inhale, Hermes closed his eyes and enjoyed the ecstasy of being able to explain his thesis. "We are false gods. That is why we are Crowned in Black. We are mistakes, anomalies. And our existence among living creation made people question Heaven's narrative, more or less."

Of course it was this, Daän admitted to himself. All mankind and all Angelkind and Demonkind, they were all just puppets of a Higher Power that was distant from the suffering that influenced their lives. Once the strings were cut, they realized they had destiny in their own hands. But that also meant, with free will, they were given the option to fail. The safetynet was no longer drawn beneath them. No one to catch them when they fall.

"What an actual cluster fuck."

"Indeed, it is." Hermes agreed. "But you and I are going to be a great equalizer."

"Going to finally tell me what you need me to do next?"

"I did consider giving you a considerably longer break. Given your injuries and… recent increasing reluctance. Which is frankly surprising, for someone who is the Father of the Bold Persians…"

"Maybe they take after their mother."

"Surely. Never knew a Persian who'd dare travel through dangerous lands without a sword."

It was just then that Daän realized his mistake. The sword, Harpe, was not on his person. And as he patted himself down for it, it only made him look all the more foolish. Not to mention, it only made his still open wounds beneath the bandages hurt that much more.

"Worry not and stop touching yourself so openly. You're going to make the blood seep through your tunic entirely." Hermes approached with something behind his back. Something that was not there even a moment before. Obviously, Daän could have guessed what it was, but he did resent how cheeky Hermes had to be about it. "Forgive me for pointing out your lack of awareness, but how did you manage to leave the sword back in the temple where it could so easily be stolen or taken, with you gone? Lucky for you, I retrieved it and even created something to help guard its distinct appearance from unworthy eyes."

The Heavenly Messenger presented it between the two of them. The sickle-sword had a new reinforced leather sheath, designed and custom-molded to fit the curve of the blade snugly. The material was dyed in deep, rich tones of burgundy that it had nearly become black. It was hardened with some wax or a resin to provide it a rigid structure that protected the blade's edge and point.

"I added a little harness as well, for ease of carrying." And indeed, Hermes had told the truth. As Daän grasped it, he strung the belt-like strap over his torso and tightly fastened the concealed blade to his back. "Not too tightly, now. You're now bleeding worse than before. And may I ask, why on your back and not at your waist?"

"Nghh… Its shape would sit uncomfortably at my side. Besides, a blade with a curved end, it makes sense for it to be drawn with an arc from my shoulder." Daän had quickly explained, trying to distract himself from the pain. "Is it lined with anything in particular on the inside or…?"

"Of course! It is lined with soft sheepskin. Nice and simple." This was stated by Hermes in a matter-of-fact manner. Greeks have a shepard tradition just as long as their martial one. "Could it have been anything else, but a sheepskin?"

"Felt would allow me for a smooth draw from the sheath. But sheepskin is kinder to the blade, and wouldn't dull it." Noted Daän. "Still, old fashioned. But if it works, it works."

"If only you knew how old fashion it truly was." As always, Hermes could never have a simple conversation. He was a master of threading specific words into topics that encouraged further investigation.

"And what do you mean by that? It has only been a few hundred years since we came here."

"Hmmm… much longer, actually." There was an evil glee in how Hermes corrected his champion. "For many, many more years than that, neither Heaven nor Hell knew what to do with… False Gods and Idols, such as ourselves. The deliberation took much longer than you'd like to know."

Daän didn't want to play too much into his hand, but he was intrigued. With a sigh, he nodded his head and with that gesture, he asked Hermes to continue.

"Before it was decided we'd serve in Heaven or suffer in Hell, the entire world of the living creation changed. Your Medusa, she wears a cross, does she not? And what nun, did you know in life, that looked like her? Surely, those are not the garbs of a priestess of Athena." Hermes' shit-eating grin was in full force again.

"Hm. Assumed it was some religion native to Hell and Heaven."

"And why is that?"

"Makes sense that sinners would want to get out of this place. Repentance, humility, vows of poverty… Just makes sense. Trying to be virtuous."

"You are not entirely wrong, but the conventions of this faith were actually constructed by living creation."

"Really now…?"

"I guess you can say, the cults that revolved around our generation are not too different from the new one, on-going." Hermes took some pride in this. "It is just that the new generation's cults are closer to reality than even they expected. A true… Heavenly Messenger had replaced me long ago and since then, I've been but a traveler."

"So the… actual Heaven sent someone down?" To Daän, this brought all sorts of complicated feelings. "Someone beyond even the figures of our own cults? Was it… Him?"

"Some say it was Son."

"Pfft, okay, you lost me." Daän shook his head and Hermes laughed. That was enough for Daän to think this was all just a prank at his expense. "I honestly thought the cross and all that, was something like the Ankh of Egypt or something. I thought maybe the faiths of the Pharaohs had finally conquered our own up there."

"This is so amusing!"

"And why is that?"

"Honestly, the fact you have Medusa playing into some naughty nun dress up, without either of you knowing anything about this faith system at all." Hermes loved irony more than he loved pacts. It was a common theme within his schemes."Even the genuine adherents of this faith understand why they wear what they do, why they wear the cross, why they pray, why they toil, why they seek repentance."

"Let me guess, you don't know what the cross means either?" Daän had already begun to walk away, for real this time. "Or do you have some convoluted story involving that too?"

"Would you believe me if I said God was three persons, all equally one another? And that one of them had actually been killed on a cross?" Venomously, Hermes couldn't contain his glee anymore. "It is true. God sent a part of Himself and His own creation killed him."

"Now you are truly making things up."

"He got better-"

"Oh, I'm sure he did…" Scoffed Daän, waving a hand and finally, disregarding Hermes' comments entirely. "Just tell me where I need to go, who I need to kill."

However, Hermes did not say anything. In fact, when Daän turned back to confront him for his silence, the Pact-Demon was gone.

"That purple-bastard… Is this because I ignored you? For a single moment?!" He called out into the air, hoping the coward would come again. "Really soft, you are! My attention was not enough? Fine, go harass someone else! "...Or better yet, maybe help someone out! Don't you owe Apollo some cows or something?!"

"Excuse me..." a voice replied, that of a lady. "Are you just a mad fool or are you a pilgrim to this temple here?" Dan turned to see a woman, with a horned head, enveloped in a soft pink traveling cloak, with dark tones of sorceress robes beneath, its edge embroidered with intricate lighter rosy patterns.

Daän realized that he had been standing around, yelling at nothing like a mad man. Anyone who had witnessed this would have gotten a laugh out of it. Thankfully, this unknown maiden did well to conceal any laughter she may have mustered.

"I live at this temple, in fact." Plainly, Daän replied. "Myself and… Sister Grey."

"Hm... So it is true." She took a few steps forward more and her face was more visible beneath the hood than before. Her eyes were adorned with dark, long lashes and a serene expression in them. Her pupil and iris the same color as her sclera, a surprising whiteness that contrasted the multi-toned, pinkish flesh of her face. "You're a Black Crown and a Black Crown Slayer. A fallen hero and a nun fucker."

"Nun fucker…?" Nearly choked Daän. "Is it really that obvious?"

"This is Hell. All the nuns down here, gripping their rosary and crosses were denied Heaven for a reason." A mischievous glint in her expression shifted into reality. "You didn't think they became nuns only after arriving down here, did you?"

"O-of course not!" Daän would not let the traveling maiden know of his shameful misconception. It was bad enough Hermes busted his balls about it just moments before. "Alas, that was the case for her. She came to this faith, seeking eventual departure from Hell. And… I'm the groundskeeper. I tend to the garden."

"Do you now?" The maiden was skeptical. Slowly, she tread a circle around Daän and sized him up. Her eyes took special attention to the sheathed weapon at his back. "Most Black Crowns are from the Era of Heroes. Heroes that had the tendency to slay beasts, beastly women, or just… women. You know this, do you not?"

"True, true and unfortunately true." He sighed. Denying it would be dishonest and whatever integrity he had built should be preserved from scrutiny, he thought. "Trust me, I'm a nobody. No one knows my name."

"Or…" The maiden stopped with her back toward him. He half expected her to explode into a flock of bats or turn into sentient mist at this rate. "You are not allowed to have your old name. It has been stolen or sold."

"And how do you know that?"

"I am a specialist in things that were considered otherworldly, even during my time among the living." Her fingers gripped the fringe of the hood and suddenly pulled it down. Between two black horns was a floating Black Crown. "I try my best to help those in need. It did me no favours in my past life. But I used to come here often to assist Lamia."

"..." Daän silently gulped. The cloth around his face hid any visible hint to the act. His finger twitched and so desperately, he wanted to grip the hilt of Harpe and begin swinging it. "Word travels fast. I was the one that took the House of Woe from Lamia. You knew her well?"

"Very well. I knew that I was not allowed to say her name, for it would make her disappear. That was how she was once deceived and killed by the cruel Hermes." Her horned head now turned to face him with an expression of muted honesty. "It is a sad story. I did everything I could to try and revert her back to the form Hermes had once given her. Alas, it seems that Hermes has gotten the last laugh once more."

"He can be a cruel one." Admitted Daän. "But I don't need to explain anything to you. Lamia clearly told you a lot. She probably knew that someone was coming for her eventually. Another champion of Hermes, if not Hermes himself."

"You are quick to remove any blame from yourself. You really believe all the smoke that Hermes shoots up your ass?"

"Hardly." Daän shook his head at the suggestion. "He has the ability to allow me to see something. Someone. It is entirely transactional. I am aware that hunting down other Black Crowns is hardly a kind thing to do, but he is the only one that can help me."

The maiden sighed. "Such a bore. All you Heroes don't even pretend to have any virtue anymore. At least you are all the more honest."

"Who are you?"

"A victim of a Hero."

"Doesn't tell me much."

"How sad is that?" She mustered a frown. More genuine than it was feigned. "How many people have you Heroes hurt without consequence?

"I've saved people too! Ladies even!" Daän blurted suddenly in defense of his character. Although, now, his fingers eagerly reached for the sheathed blade. "And with that… I've told you my name indirectly."

"Pfft. You all think you are so important that I know every Hero who has saved a maiden? Come on." Bitterly replied the pink one. "I'm not like your sort anyways. I came to heal and to help, to provide to those who are hurting. As well as to find some shelter."

Just as Daän had slightly unveiled the blade, he now slowly let it slide back into its sheath. "Lamia provided you shelter from others, while you tried to help her? And now you ask for shelter in the same temple, knowing that I had killed her?"

"I thought you were just the groundskeeper." She teased. "I am a master maker of potions. And a herbalist of the highest degree. In return for shelter, I could even craft something to heal your wounds. Assist you in your battles. Blade oils, as well."

"The proposition is attractive." As was she, Daän thought. "But Hermes does have me on a mission to hunt down other Black Crowns. I can't promise that you will be safe with me forever."

"Mhm. Some savior of women you are." The potion-maker was also adept at making poison with her words. "Alas, I'm not looking to hide myself from harm. I did not craft magically augmented ointments for Lamia's scales because I needed her protection from others. I am very capable of defending myself. I have had to be."

"What are you hiding from then?"

"I am trying to better myself, first and foremost." She said with a wry grin. Daän half thought she could have been Hermes in disguise for a moment. But no, Hermes loved himself too much to be anyone but himself. "But also I love irony."

Actually, she very well could have been Hermes after all.

"Hm." Daän nearly spat at her phrasing, if not for his masked mouth. "What does this irony entail?"

"I knew one day, someone would come and slay Lamia. It was her deepest, darkest fear. And it came true. We both knew it would be, not only just a Black Crown, but a Hero."

"I get the feeling you don't like Heroes."

"There is a Hero I want to see be slayed by a Hero." It all came full circle in the end after all, the pink maiden thought. "You see, I'd do it myself, but I want him to be cut down by someone better than him."

"There is more to it." Daän saw through her just well enough to accurately detect this. "You are physically able, but he's not… physically here. Is he?"

"You are a smart one, blue boy." Her eyes had more light to it now, like a glistening opal rather than just complete whiteness with the sterileness of a polished pearl. "He's among the ranks of the Angels. Some of the Black Crowns were too valuable for the Heavens to cast down here."

"What makes you bloody think I can kill an angel!?"

"You may not know, but you are obviously in league with Hermes. And that cuckold flies to Heaven often as a tourist, does he not?" She knew more than she let on. The sorceress types always did. "He knows for sure. Otherwise, he would not have you on the warpath against all Black Crowns."

There was a lot to contemplate for Daän, but this stranger wanted to seal the deal sooner rather than later. "You're bleeding."

"I'm aware."

"Are you aware of how much?"

Daän peeped over himself. Spots of thickening red had appeared throughout the tunic. Lamia's markings were again opening as fresh wounds, with their stubborn inability to properly heal. "I will admit, this is looking pretty bad…"

"Lamia's claws were infectious. You have something in your blood that is preventing it from clotting properly and your body is simply not healing." The observations had to be true. The pink one said it all so confidently. "I know exactly what to pick from the nearby flora to treat the wounds… But first, I have something that can remove the pain."
Beneath her cloak, she had a satchel concealed at her side, a trove of both alchemical and herbal medicines. Daän watched closely, recognizing the leather as being not too different from what Harpe's sheath was made out of.

"I have plenty of things that can be of use to you. Vials of potent elixirs, tinctures of various extracts…!" Clearly, she had organized it meticulously. Her hand searched past small tools of cultivation, a tightly packed mortar and pestle, some small pruning shears, salves, balms and aromatic bundles of tied herbs. The inner pockets and compartments were lined with a waxed canvas that preserved the potency of these botanicals. "Here…"

She had decided on something, and was just about to secure the satchels flap with a buckle, before she noticed a peculiar detail. The growing blood stains on Daän's blue tunic made the thick, golden stitching at the edges all the more visible. "Actually…"

The vial she initially grabbed was carefully reasserted into its place, while another one was extracted from the satchel instead. "This one!"

"You expect me to just drink something from a str-aughhh…" The pain had leapt through Daän's body in a rush. The wounds had worsened. Each day, they had managed to bleed more and become more devastating. But only now did he realize how crippling the torment truly was. "... something from a stranger, you expect me to just drink it?"

"I don't think you have much of a choice." She toyed with the vial between her fingers and examined it for herself. It was no larger than a thumb and made of clear glass that showed the liquid's enchanted clarity without obstruction. It was an inviting shade of azure, with small, delicate swirls of light within it. Highly potent, whatever it was. "Take a drink and you will see that I know my medicine better than anyone else in Hell. I was very skilled before death, too. Even more so, back then, actually."

"My brain is telling me 'no', but my wounds are begging for some reprieve." Daän eyed the small vessel, though unassuming in size, it promised significant relief. "Fine, hand it here."

Once in hand, he saw that it was sealed with a stopper and wax-dipped to preserve its contents. The imprint on the wax itself was that of the caduceus, an emblem of healing and medicine but it was also the Staff of Hermes.

Daän wondered if he knew her name and said it outloud, if she'd disappear too. Could it be that she had been a victim of Hermes' pacts before? If she had somehow gotten out of it, he would like to know. Until then, this woman absolutely could not know his true name.

Having opened the vial, he couldn't allow himself to be tormented by its taunting, gentle iridescence any longer. He lowered the cloth from his mouth and took a small whiff of it, as a spectrum of soft, pastel colors swirled and shifted from it as if alive. It smelled sweet and herbal, like a blooming meadow after a spring rain.

After a tentative sip, the taste actually was rather pleasant. It was likely brewed with some wine or even a mead as an alchemy base. Floral notes with a hint of honeyed sweetness, which masked the bitterness that came in the after taste. There was a warm rush of relief, that promised to knit together his wounds and ease his pains. With his confidence in the potion enforced, he drank down the rest in a single swig.

"Not too terrible." Daän admitted, before the pain surged back and made it feel like his eyes were about to explode. "Oh."

His eyes turned to nearly solid black pools, as the bags beneath them became heavy. The veins in his face protruded, becoming widened and purple breath his blue skin. Eventually, they took on an almost black tinge. The fearsome and unnatural appearance was the evidence of the potent alchemical concoction that now fought a war within his body.

"What did you do…!?" Daän snarled like a beast, as he collapsed in pain at her feet. "Who are you…?!"

"I'm a sorceress who has a distaste for Heroes." The pink one admitted, kneeling gently before him and placing a mocking hand against his face, which was now disgustingly cold. Like a corpse. "I noticed the stitching in your tunic… It is from the Golden Fleece. I should have known all of you Heroes were in bed with one another, scheming, cutting down Black Crowns. Is it not enough to simply be special? To be legends in the world of living creation, even to the modern day up there?"

"I don't-" Daän coughed thick, congealed blood. His complexion went from light blue to something more pallid. Truly, he had begun to look ghostly and corpselike. "I don't even know who you are-"

"That is not for you to know. I will, however, come to find out what your true name is, Black Crown." The maiden smiled again and stood above him. To Daän, she seemed so much taller than before now. Like a living tower above a small hamlet. "Don't give into the blackness of a second death just yet… You and I are going to watch a very interesting little theater show. With you and your regrets as the main stars! Now! Let's find out who you are, Hero."

The edges of his vision began to blur, colours brightened to unnatural levels of vividness. And yes, there was darkness, but he turned away from it. He knew what the ever growing black dot was.

The shapes of everything twisted and morphed in ways that defied logic. Sounds became layered and distorted. The ground underfoot felt unsteady, as if he were standing on the rolling deck of a ship at sea.

"No, this can't be-"

Daän was returning to the first day he saw his beloved.