“I won't kneel to you,” Cinmja spat, staring a demon queen straight in the eye. Cinmja had been in worse scrapes than this, she reasoned. By all means, the chamber she stood within had been sealed with runewrought chronometal, rendering a direct escape quite impossible. By all means, her party lay in tatters around them, some incapacitated, some babbling a litany of worship towards the queen, and one scattered across the room as little more than a bloody smear—it wasn't the first time; she'd be fine—but Cinmja herself still stood.

Cinmja, Protector of Dai'zin. Cinmja, the Mythkeeper. Cinmja, the Heroine who Once Was and Would Be Again. Cinmja, the Titan. The world had many names for her, and she knew that she had earned them.

“No?” the queen replied, with a quiet laugh. “Your companions have. You are surrounded by my thralls, sealed in my most central chamber. My Clocktower ticks faster with each rotation and already it is beyond any mortal resistance.”

She was beautiful. The demon queen. The myths always got that part wrong, Cinmja mused, though she suspected it was intentional. The stories made these creatures seem like a force of nature already, why tell an impressionable young man the truth? The lowest of demons were ugly, but as they grew more powerful, they grew more beautiful, too.

“So, little heroine,” the queen continued. “Fall.”

She spoke with weight. Even among the magically inclined, her words would sound like just words. Among the most devout paladins, or the most accomplished witches, perhaps one in every ten would be able to glimpse the edges of the power that a demon queen, practically a deity in her own right, could put into a single word.

Cinmja took a deep breath, feeling the power strike her like a cathedral collapsing atop an ant. It was irresistible, impossibly compelling. Here, in the heart of the queen's power structure? The gods themselves would have knelt and been grateful for it.

With the last scraps of her independence, Cinmja, the Mythkeeper, stepped a moment out of time and snipped the last second from her personal mythos. She raised an eyebrow towards the demon queen. “What did I just say?”

“I- Impossible!” the queen hissed. “The gods themselves—”

“Yes, yes,” Cinmja interrupted. “I've heard it all before. You—” She paused, rolled her eyes, then snapped her fingers. The spell forming in the demoness's hand scattered— “You can't beat me like that. I swear, I've been tearing through enough of your armies, stop and think, right? If that was going to work on me I wouldn't even have gotten here.”

”...it matters not, my Aura is enough. Already, it twists your soul, enthralling you to me. Do you feel the call yet, little hero?”

“No,” Cinmja sighed. “I'm immune to such things. A trick I picked up on another world. Again, you're powerful, but why would you succeed where hundreds of your underlings have failed?”

“I am a Titan,” the creature hissed back. “The world bends to my whims.”

“Yep.” Cinmja shrugged. “Also.”

“Impossible. Each era can have only one destined victor, only one—”

“—chosen by time to stand tall and have the world tremble. Only one foretold to win. Yes, hi. It is I, Cinmja, the Heroine Who Was.”

The World's Scourge paused, and Cinmja could feel a ripple in her demonic aura as that unshakeable confidence began to tremble. “I- I was promised victory by the gods,” she complained. “An unstoppable march as I claimed what was mine.”

“They lied. They always lie. They promised me the power to save the world, told me they would use me to right every wrong, and when I was done, I would join them.” She reached out with her right hand, holding it out to one side. The protections on the chamber cracked with a boom, unable to hold back the mythic power of Mondova, the chosen weapon of a Goddess-In-Waiting. A glittering polearm forged of a barely avoided apocalypse dropped into Cinmja's hand.

“That was about sixty eras ago,” the heroine continued. “I think they expected me to die, and now they keep sending people like you to try to make it happen, but it won't work. It won't ever work.” The tip of her blade sank, cutting through the stone floor of the queen's chambers like it wasn't even there. “I am broken. It is a conclusion I cannot escape. This world is made of paper. Its mightiest heroes and most foul villains are like putty in my hands.”

She gestured over to her companions. Roelia, a redeemed lich, now a devout follower of the Goddess of Medicines. Undia, the Greatest of Them, the last era's demon queen reformed into the purity of the Angelic Host. Grota, the Engineer, she who had built Dai'zin from the ground up one chronometer at a time.

“And then look at you, demon queen. Do I kill you? Do I take you in, turn you into another of my heroes? Do I let you go, and have you become another side character in my story? I have done all this before. I can see the seams in the world? In here I am all but a goddess, but I can go no further, and I am tired. I could convince you of anything and you would listen. You are all like toys, one roll of a dice away from changing your innermost beliefs and falling in line. Playing your parts in a story that has long since grown to bore me, and—”

She fumbled her grip and dropped her weapon. “Ah, shit,” Cinmja swore, watching it fall, cutting through rock and fire without even slowing down. “I guess that'll turn up again some time. Sorry.” She shrugged. “Where was I?”

The demon queen seemed lost for words. After long moments, she found some. “Are you okay? Do you... want to talk about it?”

“No.” Cinmja raised a hand wreathed in unholy fire, and

and

”...Fuck. Yes. Is there a direction nobody lives in?”

The demon queen pointed, and a moment later a cone of impossibility blew a hole through her fortress straight through to the sky. She looked back at the heroine, bemused, while she shook out the stiffness in her casting hand. Cinmja looked up and shrugged. “I can't un-cast spells, it had to go somewhere. Didn't wanna... I dunno.”

“Didn't want to hurt anyone?”

“I guess! That feels pretty dumb, though, I don't even know how many people I've killed by now.” She gulped. Her mouth couldn't really get dry, not any more, but old habits died hard. “I don't even know if it's real any more. Do you ever feel like the world just... doesn't exist, if you aren't looking at it?”

The demon queen took a breath, turning off her enchantments and auras. The room felt a little cold without them. Cinmja shivered, pulling her cloak a little tighter around her, and glanced away. The demon queen muttered something profane under her breath, surrounding herself in an aura of flame, and then walked over.

“If you think that's going to hurt me, you haven't been listeni—”

“Shhh,” the demon whispered, reaching her. The flames licked against them both, harmless, but warm. “Hi. I'm Mirramoth, may I touch you?”

The heroine stared blankly for a few moments, then gave a tiny nod. The embrace was gentle, firm arms wrapping around her body. Mirramoth still felt as if she could have been a paper doll, but it was something.

“I don't know wha-”

“Shh.” Firmer, that time. “Quiet. You say your words could change the world? Then shush, and listen to mine.”

The protagonist fell quiet, expression quivering in confusion.

“I am here for you,” Mirramoth declared. “So what if the gods lied when they gave me my gifts? I asked for them so I could take you.”

“I—”

Cinmja winced, feeling a pulse of Mirramoth's power tugging at her soul. It wouldn't stick. It could never stick. That didn't mean it didn't sting, though.

“I said quiet, Cin.” The unshakeable confidence was back, though they both knew it to be a lie. “If I wanted you to talk I would have said so.” Mirra's gentle hug shifted as she pulled back, and put her hands on the heroine's shoulders.

She pushed down. Cin's knees buckled, though they both knew she could have stood. “I didn't march across a dozen planes just to fail here. This isn't how I'd planned to take you, but it'll do.”

Cinmja blinked, staring at her enemy's feet, reaching out with her magical senses, looking for the spell, for the enchantment. Was she missing it? Where was the trick? There was nothing holding her here at all. Her lower lip began to quiver, vision starting to blur as tears formed. “It's not working,” she whispered. “I feel nothing. You are taking nothing. This is just— agh!”

The demoness's finger beneath her chin was hot, intensely so. Like all the heat of a forge fire pressed into a single moment, it pressed into her, forcing her head up so she could stare her would-be demoness in the eyes. She was smirking.

“I am doing nothing,” she explained. “No magic. Well, fire aura aside, but you'd be cold if I dropped that. No mythic presence, no shaped Intent. Just words.”

“I could strike you down with a thought.” Why did it feel petty to make that point? It was right, but it was hardly heroic to counter an argument with might makes right.

The smirk grew wider. “Oh? And then what would you do?”

The dam broke, and the tears began to flow. “I don't know. I don't know. Just- just cast your spells, let's get this over with. I know how to fight.”

“Shhh.” The profane hand of the foul warlord stroked across the top of the heroine's head, pressing one of her pointed ears down flat. “It's already over, Cin. You lost. You fell to my power, my might.” Her hand reached the back of Cinmja's head and grasped, holding her firm so the demon queen could bare her fangs and lean in close to whisper.

“You're mine, and it doesn't matter that you don't know what to do, because I do. You won't ever need to make another hard decision; you won't ever need worry about that silly little voice of yours and the power you thought you had. You didn't. You were wrong. You're no Goddess-in-waiting, you never were. The only thing you were waiting waiting for was to be my pet.” The queen spoke the last word with all the mythic might she could bring to bear, enough to crack reality itself.

Cinmja stepped outside of her personal timeline and snipped the effect. She didn't get a choice, it was a reactive defence. If she tried to turn it off, even that would just get retconned. She was broken, overpowered, a mistake that could not be undone.

She shook her head, easily breaking Mirra's grip because there was no truth behind it. “I- it's not real,” she whispered. She willed herself to feel it, to look up at this fucking monster with devotion, but it just wasn't there. “That isn't true.”

“Do you want it to be?” Mirra asked.

”...kinda, yeah,” Cinmja admitted. “I'm tired of being everyone's heroine.”

“Then it's real. Or, rather, we can make it be real. Between you and I, and who else matters?” Mirramoth took another deep breath, flexing her power, and the room began to fill with her aura, the one that inspired devotion, commitment, even love. “Do you feel that?” she asked, voice quiet.

Cin nodded her head. “It doesn't—”

“Quiet. Nods and shakes, pet. You feel it, yes?”

Cin nodded. It washed against her soul, leaving no mark, but she felt it. The warmth it promised, the safety it offered. It did nothing to her, and yet she longed so deeply for an impact she could never experience.

“There's a good girl. See, it's not so hard to fall for me, is it? Shake your head.” The texture of the aura rippled, like a quiet joke shared just between them. Nobody else would be able to feel it, they would simply be enthralled.

Cinmja shook her head. It wasn't so hard to fall for her. A hundred voices in her head disagreed, pointed out that it was, pointed out that nothing was really happening.

Yet, the smile of the demon queen still felt good. “Such a good pet. What a shame for the world that you tried to stop me and lost, hmn? That your magic proved weaker than mine? That your armour crumpled to my blows?”

Cinmja nodd— Shook her head. She bit her lip, then whispered “I don't wear armour, my skin is, uh, harder than it anyway.”

Mirra grinned, stroking her forked tail across her thrall's neck, before slithering it around and pulling tight. “Then what a shame that your lack of armour left you defenceless against my enchanted collar—” She squeezed with her tail in demonstration. “The proud warrior ending up just another victim of her own hubris, left helpless in my clutches.”

With a bitten lip, the heroine nodded, feeling the pressure tight around her neck. She closed her eyes and drew on her strength, pressing her will into the world. The world listened, as always, and she held up a thin band of profane material, stylised in the demon queen's colours.

The tail was quickly replaced by Her cursed collar. The enchantments would bind anybody to Her will, while being impossible to remove. That it didn't actually work on Cinmja was something she could maybe learn to ignore. She felt the enchantments washing against her spirit all the same, and maybe that was enough.

“Good pet,” She whispered. “You're doing so well. Is that too tight? I can loosen it if you'd—”

Cin shook her head rapidly, lifting a hand to press against the band. She took a deep breath, feeling Her presence rolling over her. It was warm, and soft, and safe. It posed her no danger, so she could, just, enjoy it. “It's good. It's... it's good.”

Mirramoth grinned. “Are you sure you aren't falling under my spell for real, little one? That corruption eating against the purity of your soul like the ocean against a cliff? Perhaps your so-called immunity simply needed a more patient hand to break.”

Cin didn't think so. It didn't feel like that, anyway. Her immunity hadn't faltered in a long, long time. “I could pretend?” she offered, voice hopeful, and received a laugh in return.

“That's my girl. So bound in layers of enchantment that even now she thinks she's just pretending, right?” The queen winked, pulsing her power with more intensity. A finger trailed across her heroine's lip for a moment, then pressed in. “Suck.” A single word delivered with mythic might.

Cinmja stepped outside of her personal timeline and snipped the impact.

Cin obeyed the instruction regardless, letting her eyes flutter closed as she lost herself in the hot, spicy flavour of—

“Cinnamon, if you're wondering. Hmn.” She reached down with Her other hand and pressed a finger to the girl's collar, and a moment later a nametag hung from its front. “Isn't that right, my darling little Cinnamon?”

Cin nodded, rapidly, tongue still pressed firmly against the fire-hot flesh of her foe. Her skin was surprisingly human, soft and giving, but with an iron hardness beneath. It moved, playing with her, feigning battle, and though Cin knew that she could never truly be overpowered, it felt good to lose the battle anyway. She whimpered around the finger, struggling to suck even with her tongue pinned to the bottom of her mouth.

“Take a deep breath, pet. You can smell me, too, yes? Nod.” Cinnamon nodded. She could. She'd ignored it, before, it hadn't seemed relevant, but the whole room stank of her. A dark, earthy, slightly spicy scent, just like cinnamon. She breathed deep, catching whiffs of all the other scents it carried with it.

A little acrid sulfur burned the lungs just to breathe. A spritz of sweat sent a shameful shiver through Cin's chest. The sparkling ozone aftertaste of magic echoed still. The cinnamon was dominant, but far from alone.

“You like it. No, more than that, you love it. The thought of taking another breath without it feels almost unpleasant. You can feel that silly purity being tainted more with every moment, because you don't want a breath of fresh air, do you? You want me. My scent, my taste. Nod.”

Cinnamon nodded. It... maybe? Maybe a little, actually, yeah. Now that she thought about it. Now that she focussed on it. The spiced scent in her nostrils filled her, and as she breathed out, she couldn't help but smile. Yeah. She'd thought the mix of odours had been almost overpowering at first, but the more she breathed it in, the more she realised how nuanced it was. How pleasant it was to be immersed in Mirra's Presence, feeling her with every sense.

“Good pet. Good thrall. Just one breath was enough, wasn't it? Nod. Good thing. You walked in here with your head held high and now all you want is to get that sensitive snout of yours full of me and beg to worship at my feet. What a shame all your power was for naught and you ended up addicted to me just like everybody else~”

Cinnamon's eyebrows quivered into a momentary frown. Just like everybody else? Was she- is that all she was?

“Uh,” Mirra stumbled over a word, her spare hand reaching up to deliver a quick scritch behind one of Cin's ears. “Not like that,” she whispered, voice low. “I don't mean to devalue you, you're— you're not just another one of them to me, I promise.”

Cin nodded quickly, leaning into the scritches, and gave Mirra's fingers a last few dutiful licks before pulling back. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I- If I'm going to do this, I think I need to feel like you're actually going to take my needs seriously.” She laughed, quietly. “'If,' she says, kneeling before her mistress.” She bit her lip.

Mirramoth's nose wrinkled. “Eugh. That title makes me feel like I'm sneaking around with some old noble. Er, anyway. I promise, pet, I've wanted you at my heel for a long, long time. I... got carried away, is all. Nobody else is important here, I'll send them all home.”

Cinnamon stared up at her Whatever for long moments, lost in either thought or adoration. Possibly both. Her breaths were deep, and her smile couldn't help but widen. Eventually, she spoke up. “Do you have to? I um. I feel like it's more believable if you actually conquer the world, y'know? It makes my defeat feel more like just another one of your victories. Which— admittedly that's kind of contradictory given I want to be special to you but, but, but, I want to be special to you, and... I'd like it if everyone else forgot I was ever anything but yours.” Invulnerable, her skin may have been, but it wasn't immune to blushing.

Mirramoth raised an eyebrow. “Some heroine you turned out to be, pet. I offer to spare the world and you beg me to damn it. Very well, to them, you will be remembered as nothing more than the Black Knight dutifully crawling at my side as I rule this world. To me, you will be my most prized posession and I promise you, pet—” She leaned in close— “Your worries that people will bend to your whims are over. The only choice you'll have left is which of my boots you lick clean first.”

Cinnamon nodded rapidly, emitting a rapid series of noises so depserate that only a mythic creature could hope to make them. Alas, she did have to interject. “I, uh, um, yes, I, please... but uh 'Black Knight' is kind of a problematic term, it's a bit racially charged, especially given, like... you're red, so it doesn't even make sense in context. Like I know there's historic reasons but—”

The Mythic Demon Queen sighed. “Well, I wouldn't want to be problematic as I bring this little world to its knees. Fine, my precious little thing. You entered this room thinking yourself a Goddess-in-Waiting and you leave it a pet. From now on, you shall be nothing more than a devoted cleric for your real Goddess, me.”

“I- ah, uh-, um!” Cin shivered, blushing more deeply. “That's, uh, that's very sacrilegious, which— I, the church wouldn't—”

“Silence.”

“Yes, Goddess!” Cinnamon replied, immediately, before realising she'd spoken. “Uh. I-”

“Silence.“

Cinnamon stopped talking, nodding rapidly.

“That's better. Isn't it so easy to just agree with everything I say? Feel my power smothering your will, leaving you hanging on my every word, eager to obey and to serve? Nod for me, my sweet Cinnamon.”

There wasn't any real power behind those words. The collar could be cast off. The name could be refused. The title could be ignored. A moment of reframing could have the sulfur in the back of her nose feel as foul as it once had. Cinmja's will was as present and proud as it had ever been and so much of it wanted her to stand and leave, to apologise for pretending to be something she wasn't. She doubted that anything would ever fundamentally change. She would always be one decision away from breaking free of any control Mirramoth could place upon her, and neither of them could change that.

Cinnamon nodded, anyway. The power didn't need to be magic to be real to them. That she was one decision away from breaking her bonds didn't matter, because she wasn't making that decision. She was deciding to fall, and even if one breath of fresh air might remind her how good freedom had tasted, she knew her foe would never let her vanquished heroine stray far enough for that to matter ever again.

“Yes, Goddess. Your every word, Goddess. To obey and serve, Goddess.”

The fledgeling Goddess pursed her lips. “And that's strike two. Let's talk about punishments.”

I'm gonna be honest, this is pure hypnokink smut, I just have a worldbuilding kink too.

A shadow fell across the burning schism torn through the dirt that had once formed the foundations of Dai'zin, Blessed City of the Gods. The shadow flared outwards, blotting out the sun as an angel's wings spread wide and her presence was imposed upon the world.

As daylight faded, the Century's battlefield seemed almost to ripple, though no two observers would quite agree how. Fires extinguished as if smothered by a tremendous hand. Rot and decay were scoured clean, and the recently killed found themselves breathing fresh breath. Demons fled, scurrying behind the wreckage of buildings or down deeper into the depths.

The Herald of Idona, Goddess of War, had arrived.

The angel carried neither blade nor shield, for her weapon was one forged from force of will alone. Where her attention turned, reality listened to her desires and changed to suit. A mortal creature might call it magic, but a mortal mage used arcane power to effect change; an angel simply allowed the world to bend to her preferences.

As the angel touched down against the earth, her divine footstep echoed and the riot of combat fell silent in its wake. Those that hailed from the age of sin favoured the hit and run; tearing apart that which the Gods had spent millenia building in mere minutes and then running the second anything truly powerful arrived to threaten them. The angel knew it would face no resistance here, for none would dare challenge its divine right.

“Finally,” spoke a voice, breaking the unnatural silence. The angel turned, expression impassionate, to find a demon casually glancing her up and down. She raised an eyebrow. The creature was almost too weak to be a threat to anybody at all, and yet while its fellows scattered and ran, this one alone seemed unafraid.

They stood in mutual silence, meters apart, for long moments before the angel deigned to speak. “Finally?” she asked, voice a chorus with itself. She barely whispered and yet the world would not dare dampen her words. She would be heard, as would every echo from every surface, and it was only by the will of entropic decay that her word did not continue forever.

“Finally,” the demon confirmed. Demoness, on second observation. “I've been praying for an angel for an age and change; I just hope you won't hurt me!”

Demons. Creatures from the age of sin. The inevetable result of the moral decay that resulted from unchecked civilisation deciding it knew better than its creators. Each was individual, yet together they formed a horde of lies, gluttony, and excess that used honeyed words and vicious action to destroy the very history that supported their decadence. To a mortal, such creatures were hazardous even to consider, for even their ideas were toxic to right thought and proper belief.

To the eyes of an angel, however, a demon was an open book. They were creatures of deceit and trickery, but such things worked only on the mortals. To an angel, for whom the truth was as fundamental a thing as air, the machinations of a lower demon were transparent. “Our purpose here is not to bring you harm,” the Herald whispered. The creature posed it no danger, and though it was one of the enemy, it held no tactical significance. The Goddess of War was concerned only with those who fought with strength of arm and magic. “We are here to bring finality to the reign of a dark Goddess, as will be foretold by the sages of Dai'zin-that-was.”

The creature licked her lips, mouth flickering into a barely suppressed grin. “Good, good, yeah, that's excellent. I know just who you're talking about, obviously, but, eh— remind me, first, you things are bound by your word, right?”

The demoness earned little attention. As the herald cast her gaze across the smoking remains of the battlefield, a gust of wind woke and swept away anything that might have dared to obscure her vision. “We are of the Angelic Host, little demon. We are creatures of belief itself. We speak only the truth, and so the world-tree knows to listen to our words.” Some of the demons from the earlier battle had been too large to run, and so had hidden, but with the world bending to the angel's will they could not hide for long. The moment her eyes found them, what little power they had left them.

Some ran. The ground crumbled beneath them, plunging them to a death from which they would never rise. Some tried to stand their ground, only to find the air itself pulling away; they died gasping, unable even to plead to the blade of an uncaring diety. Sometimes one dared to fight, but apparently news of what happened to them had gotten around, and none were so foolish this time.

The demoness chuckled, drawing a sliver of attention. Even a lesser angel knew better than to be distracted, but the Blade of a Goddess was by far practiced enough to split her attention without slowing down her slaughter. In moments there were none left to stand against her, and she finally turned to face the curious weakling before her. “Good little angel, that's right, eyes on me, yes? It's only us here now, thank you for removing all those little distractions. Tricking all those mortals into speaking my prayers for me was worth it, hmn? They were so happy to speak any word I gave them, and your lot don't really care why they pray, so long as the words are right, yes? They referred to me as their dark Goddess. I am the one you seek.” If the creature expected her speech to elicit a response from the angel, she would be disappointed to recieve only a vaguely bemused flat stare. “You may refer to me the same way, if you wish. You aren't here to hurt me, are you, angel?” she continued, with a sly grin worthy of an archdemon revealing their masterstroke.

With time seeming to slow around her, Idona's Herald felt the attention of the world beating down upon her. It felt like pressure behind the eyes, grit in the joints, water in the lungs. The fundamental discomfort of a body in decay. The demon had not quite caught her in a contradiction, but had come close enough that she felt her power weaken. The world's trust was shaken.

The world was a straightforward thing, and it abhored a paradox. If the demon were lying, a single word would strike her down more forcefully than anything a mere higher angel could bring to bear. If she were not, that very same word would condemn the angel, instead. The world demanded truth from those who spoke to it.

For a moment, the pair locked eyes, playing a game of cosmic chicken to see who would admit a falsehood first. The Herald should have been able to detect a lie, but was she willing to stake her own existence on it?

“But you aren't here to hurt me, are you? Or, in fact, anybody else at all?” the demon suggested, offering a single path forward, where Idona's Truth need not be tarnished, at the expense of imposing another Truth upon Her Herald. What choice did an angel have? To admit error would be to invite anhilliation.

“No.”

So divinity spoke, and so the world listened. The supernatural pressure receeded, for the moment, as a clear and coherent narrative was established.

A vulpine grin seemed to cut through the battlefield's smoke and shadow as if it dare not interfere. The Herald wasn't here to hurt anybody, so what reason was there not to smile. “Then why are you here, exactly, treasure?”

To an angel, truth flowed like the ocean in storm. This angel in particular blinked several times in responseto the question, opening her mouth to reply and finding no answer forthcoming. Before she had a chance to consider why, she found herself interrupted.

Again, rescued by the timely suggestion of a temptress. “Just here to wander and have a chat, perhaps? Visiting one of the lower planes recreationally?”

The angel smiled, shaking her head with certainty. Her wings ruffled, working out a little tension. “No, little one. We are the Herald of our Goddess, Idona, and our every action is inscribed with the intent of the Divine. Not a moment goes by where we are not following Her path.” For a brief moment, the angel had felt something quite unusual: uncertainty. Thankfully, the follow-up question was as clear as day in her mind.

Why the demon responded with a snort and a giggle was less clear, but demons were unpredictable creatures. Not all of their actions were designed to trick, merely to mislead or camoflague. Even the Truth-sense of an angel could not divine meaning from true chaos, but by that same token, true chaos was rarely a serious threat. One could not strike a true vulnerability by chance. “Yeah? Wow. Gosh, and you said you were here for little old me? Remind me, how many demons has Idona bargained with?”

“None.” An easy answer, spoken in perfect cadence with the question. Idona was not in the habit of making deals. She was the Goddess of War, and the only mercy a demon deserved was a swift death through holy metal or divine wrath.

The demon's grin cracked even wider, a feat that aught to have been biologically impossible. “Wow. Either I'm pretty special, or I'm not a demon, right?”

The logic held. However, the perfect vision of an Angel could not be tricked by words or deeds. It simply saw the world as it was, unchangeable. The smile had taken on an innocent sheen that might have been convincing were the world not screaming in the Herald's ear that it was nothing but falsehood. “You are a demon,” the angel insisted, voice ringing with the weight of Truth. “You cannot hide your nature from us.”

Counterintuitively, being caught in her lie seemed to please the demon. “I'm pretty special, then,” she replied, with a predatory cut to her bare-teeth grin. “Come, angel, a battlefield is no place to bargain.”

With a flourish, she reached up and snapped her clawed fingers. The sound echoed, despite their being in an open space. A demon attempting to perform magic in the presence of an angel was the height of stupidity; the world would always defer to the Herald's belief. Magic was nothing but a lie spoken confidently, and anybody caught lying to the world would be punished harshly.

Harmed, even.

The Herald was not here to hurt this demon, and yet when she felt the discomfort of the world's gaze as it asked the obvious question, she could not disbelieve the demon's spell. When the world asked, she had little choice but to repeat the lie with confidence enough it would be believed. The sensation of her soul grating on reality fell away, and yet the Herald was left still with a weight in her chest, knowing she must somehow have been tricked and yet not quite knowing how.

Thankfully, the world cared not for the inner turmoil of an angel, only her word. Space tore in an unsightly wound, ripping open a portal between ages right there in the middle of the battlefiekd. Such a spell should have been beyond a demon this weak... but the world deferred to the Herald's opinion on that, too.

The rift joined the battlefield with a brothel, profane flames licking out from the seam joining them. Even mere proximity to it felt like a stain on the Herald's soul. It reeked of corruption, so intensely that she knew on simple instinct that the destination must be far, far beyond enemy lines, in the fortress cities of the distant future.

“We are more comfortable on the battlefield,” she insisted, calling out even as her target stepped through the portal into the potential consequence of a doomed timeline. “We would rather remain here.”

The demon glanced back with a raised eyebrow. “Who said your comfort was important here, birdie? You're here to make a deal, this is where I'll make the deal. So, come.” She snapped her fingers, magic dancing around the moment, then pointed sharply at the ground by her side. The magic took form, shoving the Herald forward, though the portal and out of her own time,

She tripped on the edge. The rift through time could have been placed anywhere in space, and yet the demon had chosen to place it an inch or so above the ground. The Herald flared her wings to catch herself, but the foul air of Posthistory did not recognise her and her feathers found no purchase. They were so far after the front that the echoes of sacrosanctity could no longer reach them.

Unholy stone burned the Herald's hands as she caught herself the mortal way. She hissed, pulling in acrid air through clenched teeth, and willed the profane stench of cinnamon away from her nose. Her demon was looking down at her with a smug grin and a bitten lip, and a moment of her will closed the portal behind them.

The weight of history pressed down harder still, the Herald cut off from her own time entirely. She would be able to open a portal back on her own, she hoped, with time and with effort, but it was always harder to go back than it was forward and she would need to recuperate and prepare.

“Ah, isn't that much better?” the demon cooed. “It's so much more comfortable here, yes? I can't stand being back there, you were all so self-righteous and stuck-up, right? The Shattering was a grand day, I always love being on the right side of it.” She smiled, not bothering to pretend at innocence as she watched the chosen warrior of a goddess suffer with every breath.

The Herald pushed down her brute emotional reaction. She was here to bargain, not to scour this creature out of the timeline with righteous anger. With considerable effort, she pushed herself back to her feet, folding her wings tight against her back. The warding light of her halo barely reached the ground, but she knew from experience that her powers would not fail her even here. The past still held the twin powers of Precedent and Tradition, and the world would still try to listen when she spoke, even if their mutual enemy had long since broken its will.

“We are afraid that we must disagree, this would be a catastrophe unlike any other should it be allowed to come to pass,” the Herald replied, hoping to make her disagreement clear without giving the demon any true arguments to make. Her oaths rendered her incapable of silence, and she would simply need to hope that a token disagreement would be sufficient.

For her part, the demoness raised an eyebrow. She had sauntered across the room to a table set against the nearest wall. It was one of many like it, and, in fact, so were they. The space was so populous that the only thing preventing it from feeling crowded was its sheer scale, and the only thing preventing it from being overwhelming was a surprisingly tasteful design that minimised echoing and left clear walkways by which to move. The demon cleared her throat, drawing the Herald's attention back to her.

“You may call me Goddess,” she explained. After a moment of no response, she grinned. “Or Anodi, your choice. I'm tired of being 'the demon', it's past time you learned how to address me properly.”

The Herald proved incapable of hiding her reaction to the sacrilege. Her face twisted in revulsion. Anodi had a foul sense of humour. “That is no choice at all,” she declared, though this seemed only to amuse the de— Anodi.

“Well, treasure, choice isn't really something you're used to, is it? Would you know what to do with it if you had it? Be a good girl and sit.” She pointed at the bench on the opposite side of the table from her and fixed the Herald with an expectant gaze.

The air around them was a heady mix of cinnamon, spice, and sin. Regardless, the angel took a deep breath as she worked to steady herself and push down her frustration. She wasn't here to take Anodi's bait, she was here to negotiate. Any angel was supposed to be the perfect embodiment of infallible law, the avatars of a proper order for the universe itself. An angel was not supposed to get annoyed at the impertinence of a minor demon.

She breathed out, letting her eyes open back up. The world seemed that little bit too colourful. Proper earthen greys and the beige of worked stone had been overtaken, painted, dyed, stained. The walls of this foul brothel were far from bare, and woven fabric hung shamelessly from them, depicting tales of a dark future that had not yet truly come to pass.

Anodi's chosen table sat beneath a tapestry depicting the fall of Idona Herself. The Herald averted her eyes, understanding intuitively that merely possessing the knowledge of this dark future would make it more likely to happen. Her every step was suspended on the butterflies of happenstance, and every moment spent here would leave the world more confident that this future was true. She needed to be careful even with her thoughts here.

The Herald sat in the specified place, resting her hand on the table. The surface was a dark wood, some mighty oak cut down in its prime and forged into a profane slab. Angelic eyes saw all, and there were signs of life and history weaved into every aspect of this place. Her fingers pressed into the metal bolt holding one of the wooden slats in place, and she winced, feeling the demonic heat of its forging. Her eyes glanced across a groove cut across the surface and she felt a star-pilot's blade slicing through hard wood like it was barely there. She tried to steady herself with a deep breath, only to feel visions of the Shattering descend upon her as she tasted its cinnamon remnants on her tongue,

“Hey,” Anodi snapped, sharp voice slicing straight through the visions with its clarity. “Focus, now, you wouldn't want to get distracted, would you?”

The angel blinked rapidly, glancing upwards. Her host was leaning forward, so close that her presence demanded attention, elbows on the table with her chin resting atop entwined fingers. “Huh?” the Herald asked, casting off memories of a past that she was here to change.

Anodi barked out a laugh, leaning backwards in her chair. “Oh, Me, just five minutes here and you're already drifting? Cute.” Her forked tongue darted out, moistening her malicious lips. “Is this your first time in the present day, my ditzy little angel? You should watch out, the air around here can get in the heads of silly things like you. Some of you find you like it enough you don't want to go back, but you're not here to get wrapped up in enchantments, are you, treasure? You don't want to spend the rest of that eternal life of yours as somebody's mindless thrall, happily serving them however they please?”

“We... of course not,” the Herald replied, brow furrowing at the very thought. She took another deep, focusing breath, only to realise a moment later it would do nothing of the sort. By Idona, she really did feel every lungful of air here. Moisture and heat clung jealously, while the stench itself gathered in the lungs and the head, clouding her thoughts. Was this how it had happened? How it might happen, she corrected herself. The whole world simply giving up when the very air was defiled and nobody could be trusted?

Anodi thankfully seemed to accept the answer, nodding promptly. “Well then, be a good girl and pay attention to Me. I'll make sure you don't become some random demon's pet,” Anodi insisted, with a smile so innocent that the Herald would never have trusted it, had her Truthseeing not corroborated. She nodded, taking a loose, shaken breath, and fixed her gaze on Anodi's eyes.

On a whim, she reached out with her power, hoping to purify a little air to help her head clear, but her demonic protector simply giggled and wiggled a pair of fingers to dismiss her attempt at magic. “Now now, none of that, hmn? You wouldn't want to draw attention to yourself, would you? Why, there's a lot of people around here who'd love to own a pretty little relic like you. The Last Herald of Idona, here in the flesh? Oh, this room would be packed if anybody knew, and how would we negotiate if somebody had already wrapped that adorable head of yours in suggestions so deep you couldn't remember your own name?”

Anodi chuckled to herself, as if laughing at an unspoken joke.

“We— fine,” the Herald replied, forcing down a whimper. She was the chosen of her Goddess and a little foul air would not overwhelm her force of will. She may be at a disadvantage, but she wasn't going to let that stop her from striking a deal. She had a job to do, after all. She steadied her gaze and sat taller, fixing her attention on the demon sat tall before her. “Then we shall not waste your time further. The negotiations must begin at once. Name your—”

“And what can I get you two sweethearts?”

Focus broken, the Herald twitched in surprise, gaze snapping over to the newcomer. A succubus in full tactical gear, holding a clipboard and a pen. The angel couldn't help but look across the bulges in her pockets, assaulted by future memories from conjectural timelines. Half a dozen wands charged with corrupted magics, each drawing on one of the long-fallen spirits of the Gods and Goddesses of the Herald's time.

Idona Herself among them. The mightiest of them, reduced to mere fuel for a combat wand.

The Herald felt her blood boil, quite literally, as she rose to her feet, wings quaking with fury. With bared teeth, she hissed “What is the meaning of this? How dare you bring such sacrilege before us? In the name of—”

“Ange,” Anodi snapped, showing a rare moment of actual anger. “Sit down this instant, you are embarrassing me.”

The Herald's cheeks flushed bright red. With the wind torn from her sails, she could see the newcomer was little more than a scared waitress come to take her order. That she happened to be carrying magic derived from her fallen Goddess was a crime against reality itself, yes, but a crime that few in this establishment did not commit. She was here to prevent it from occurring altogether, not to exact revenge on a what-if. She froze up, torn between her urge to tear this timeline apart for its crimes and an inexplicable desire to apologise to this waitress, who was hardly the most deserving target of her ire and very likely was just making the best of a situation she had no hand in creating.

The snap of fingers caught her attention a mere moment before a blast of magic shoved the angel unceremoniousky down onto her seat. “Don't make me tell you something twice,” Anodi insisted. “We haven't even started bargaining yet and you're already insulting me. I hardly think your Goddess would be pleased if you failed her simply through weakness of character, hmn?”

The Herald's cheeks burned. She was alive with righteous fury, and if she so chose she could burn this establishment to the ground. Few of her kind ever made it this deep into the future; perhaps she could do some real damage and make a real difference, and then she wouldn't need to put up with this pointless humiliation. Idona would be pleased with her if she fought and won. Negotiation be damned, she was a warrior and her strength would—

A demonic hand grabbed her halo and roughly pulled her gaze around to look Anodi in the eyes. “Answer me, angel.”

The Herald bared her teeth, and for a moment her eyes seared with the flicker-flame of war. She glared up at the demon, waiting for that telltale moment of fear in her eyes as she realised she had gone too far and her games had come to a close. Her halo grew hot and she relished in spotting pain in her adversary's gaze “We—”

“Are not here to hurt me,” Anodi whispered, voice soft. “Remember? Think for one second before you let your emotions rule you.”

The flame snuffed out. The Herald tried to avert her gaze, but a sharp tut and a sharper pat on the cheek forced her eyes back, fixed on Anodi's. Where mere moments ago her eyes had been sharp with justified rage, now the heat of humiliation weighed heavy instead. Here she was, being lectured by a demon on why she needed to keep control of her own emotions, and she wasn't even permitted to look away.

They stared each other down for long moments, shame growing only heavier with the passage of time. Anodi eventually released her halo, but kept her fixed in place with gaze alone. “Well?” she finally asked, voice impatient.

“W- What?”

“I told you to answer me. Are you deaf, or just getting ditzier by the minute?” For once, Anodi wasn't laughing. She was right not to. The Herald had embarrassed her, along with herself and, of course, Idona, with a thoughtless, emotional outburst that would have led to ruin. The angel's lips quivered. She was a warrior, trained to fight, not for this.

The pair were close like this. So close, in fact, that each breath of sweet cinnamon air was pregnant with Anodi's own overtones. Ash and sweat, playful anger, a saccharine tang with sharp zesty aftertaste.

”...No,” the Herald admitted. “My Goddess would not be pleased if we failed Her.”

After an impatient moment, Anodi motioned for her to continue.

Staring up into her gaze was so hard that, in a better world, songs would have been written of the willpower required to avoid averting her gaze. The Herald forced the answer from between unwilling lips. “We are not deaf,” she answered, hoping it would be enough. Obviously, it was not. She could feel the embarrassment staining her own soul as she continued. “We are getting ditzier by the minute.”

Anodi's anger evaporated in an instant, replaced with a proud smile. She went to give the Herald a pat on the head, but after a moment of uncertainty settled for affectionately rubbing her halo instead, forcing out a quiet whimper and a somehow deeper blush. “There's a good girl, understanding simple instructions on only the third attempt! That wasn't so hard, was it?”

A beat passed, making it clear she expected an answer. “It was not so hard.”

Anodi's smile widened. “And she can learn.” She gestured over to the waitress, still waiting, still clearly a little upset. “Apologise.”

Apologise? To a demon? Waitress or not, this was still a creature of sin, an inheritor of catastrophe. She carried the stolen valor of deities in her pockets as if they were meaningless trinkets. The Herald would—

Anodi cleared her throat, interrupting the descent into divine fury. “Now, what did we just say, sweetie? It wasn't so hard. Do as you're told. Apologise. Now.”

Hard? It was impossible! It was against her nature! It was against Her teachings! The angel forced herself into silence by biting her own lip and staring at the ground, but of course that couldn't be allowed.

One hand under her chin and another on her halo forced her vision back up. “Aww, perhaps that's just too complicated an order for a little ditz like you, hmn? No need to answer that one, cutie, just say I'm sorry.“

Hate. Hate and fury and— “I'm sorry,” the Herald echoed, voice quiet.

Anodi's grip grew softer, even affectionate. Fingers beneath the chin stroked carefully as she continued, “I've been treated poorly in the past, and sometimes I get spooked.”

Brimstone and damnation, they weren't done? “I've been treated poorly in the past, and sometimes I get spooked.” It was hardly untrue, was it? Even if the exact details were being hidden by the evasive wording.

Anodi's other hand joined the first, cupping the angel's cheeks in a soft embrace. She leaned in close, whispering the words straight into her angel's ear. “I didn't mean to scare you, and I'll do better in future.”

The Herald despaired. Again, technically true. She had meant to tear the creature into pieces. Hearing demons weave lies by sharpening truths was foul enough, but becoming the mouthpiece for them was a thousand times worse. “I didn't mean to scare you. I'll do better in future.”

A tut and a quick tap on the cheek informed the Herald of her wrongdoing. “Verbatim, ditz. Apologise to me for misspeaking.”

A breath taken in anger was deep and uneven. The foul stench of cinnamon-stained cotton candy filled her, calming the angel almost by force. A few steadier breaths and she thought she could obey the order without breaking her vow to not hurt Anodi. It would not do to betray her oaths. “I didn't mean to scare you, and I'll do better in future,” she echoed, before glancing at her tormentor. “I am... sorry for paraphrasing.”

Though the words brought a smile to Anodi's face, they were not enough. “I promise I won't be allowed to hurt you, or anybody else. I can be hasty, but I know to follow my Goddess's orders.”

“I promise I won't be allowed to hurt you—” She froze, recognising what she had just said at the same time the world heard and believed it. Damnation, at least she caught herself before speaking the other words. She was bound by two oaths here already, and that was likely compromise enough that Idona would already strip her of her rank the second she returned to her Goddess's realm, but the rest of the statement would have been far worse.

Anodi giggled, leaning close to whisper. Her claws stroked over unblemished flesh, leaving a few sharp lines that could not be mistaken. “Verbatim, pet. I'd be ever so offended if you didn't finish speaking, but look at this poor waitress. You showed her your fangs, you dumb little airhead. She's terrified of you. You'll scare her if you try to break my leash. You'll hurt her, and I won't allow you to do that. Hold your silence here and you make paradoxes of the both of us, and wouldn't that be a blow to your poor little Goddess? That might even be the reason you were her last Herald~”

Speaking as if compelled, on dry lips, the Herald had no choice but to continue. To do otherwise would be to break the oaths she was already bound by. It would doom her, and by extension, her Goddess, and by extension, the very world itself. At least if she wrapped herself in further layers of verbal bondage she would still have a chance of fixing things.

“—or anybody else. I can be hasty, but I know to follow my Goddess's orders.”

Pleasure came immediately, flowing into her like a sign from Idona herself. The Herald let out a gentle groan, feeling the warmth of knowing her Goddess was pleased with her all the way down to the soul. Faith came easily to her, and how could it not, when the presence of her diety was as clear as stone beneath your feet?

Anodi's laugh was like music to her ears, the gentle caress of her hand like silk against the skin. She was the most beautiful of demons and the kindest, too, for her willingness to protect a silly ditz like the Herald from her own instincts.

“See?” Anodi asked, speaking only to the waitress. A hand gently laid atop the Herald's head let her know to stay quiet. “She's harmless, truly. She used to be a big deal, once, but she's harmless now, and much happier when she serves her Dark Goddess. Isn't that right, my ditzy little fallen angel?”

Emotions crashed and crumbled. She had been trapped in a web of sharpened half-truths, and now silence would violate one oath, speech another. To contradict Anodi here would destroy her, and though the world would likely show mercy and not punish her for violating an oath to a paradox, the act would surely terrify the waitress, and that oath would hold strong regardless.

Perhaps the Herald could escape, if she could find some way to bind the waitress in turn and show both of the demons to be liars at once, but she had no clear path to achieving that here and now.

There was only one answer that would not doom them all. “Yes.”

Anodi grinned, again allowing her predatory edge to the foreground. The Herald could not help but feel a spark of nervous anticipation and fear as she gazed upon it. “Yes what, my little angel toy, so hopelessly out of her depth?”

”...yes, Goddess.”

“Such a good girl.” Her praise was immediate and potent, hands exploring to find the perfect place to scratch to make her angel sing. The words were over in an instant, but the impact echoed through moments of pleasure, pride, shame, embrassment, humilation, and then back to pleasure. “Now, we really should get on with that negotiation, hmn~?”

The Herald was reeling, unwanted power and emotion crashing through her soul. 'Yes, Goddess'. Two simple words, and ones she had spoken uncountably many times prior, but with meaning that sagged low under the weight of her devotion. Idona was everything to the Herald. The light that showed the path; the context and purpose for her existence; the only love she had ever needed or would ever need.

She had never before spoken those words with anything but adoration and joy in her voice, and the world knew it. The weight of Precedent could not be changed by a single action, no matter how coerced it had been in the moment. The pattern had to hold.

And so, as the Herald looked up at Anodi with a mounting horror, she realised two things in quick succession. Firstly, that she was so far into the future that she was likely the only individual left even capable of Sin; and secondly, that the building emotions of love and adoration she had been feeling had nothing to do with her Goddess of War.

Her lips parted while she searched rapidly for words to speak. Her heart longed to reply with the words of worship and devotion that even now gathered on her tongue, Truths she was desperate to speak to the world simply to show it how deeply she longed to serve her Goddess... but her head knew better. Her head knew that she was supposed to feel those urges towards Idona, her real Goddess, and that this was nothing but a test of her faith. Her head knew that she should not want to want this, and the only correct course of action was to pretend that she did not until she could find a way out from the trip.

Anodi's smug grin, growing only smugger, steadily stole any progress she managed to make. How was she supposed to stay angry with somebody who looked at her with such delightful hunger? Nobody had ever looked at her like that, with such want and intent. Finally, mercy was granted when She looked— when she looked back towards the waitress. “Do you still do the curly fries? Oh, fantastic, can I get a bowl? She'll have water, too.” She glanced back at the Herald. “Won't you, pet?”

“Yes, Goddess!” chirped the angel, feeling gratitude welling up in her chest that She would be so gracious as to both decide her Truth and give her an opportunity to show her gratitude for it. She pressed her cheek into the offered hand, nuzzling into the divine heat of her purpose. Only a moment after speaking did her smile falter, replaced with a deeper horror still at the realisation of just how automatic her response had been, and how ingrained the urges she was fighting against were.

The Herald bit her lip, purposefully averting her eyes in the hope she could escape the feelings of devotion rattling around her ditzy head. She would have to be very, very careful with her words if she were to return to the present day with her loyalty intact and her true Goddess pleased.

The waitress departed, now seeming truly unafraid of the pacified warrior sat at the side of the room. In fact, nobody seemed afraid of her here. The room was teeming with demons, daemons, devils, and the damned, yet the presence of one of the Angelic Host seemed hardly notable. A handful of those present occasionally glanced over at her, and of those, a fraction had their gaze linger for a few short moments, but nothing more than that.

They simply didn't recognise her. The thought sent a shiver down the Herald's spine. Though it was perhaps thousands of years into the future here, the mortals of the present day would have recognised a Herald of the Gods in an instant. They were unmistakable. To see her was to understand what she was, and no normal creature could resist comprehension.

The Herald glanced back towards Anodi, who was watching her with open hunger. “Where are we?” she asked, gesturing around them, hoping to find distraction for a moment. “What harem of sin and debauchery would not recognise an angel?”

Anodi snorted. “This is just my local community hall. It's like, uh—” Her eyes flicked up and to the side as she searched for the word— “Kind of a mix between a tavern, an inn, a church, and a theatre, from your time? And people probably do recognise what you are, it's just rude to stare.”

“We care not for the lies of demons,” the Herald exclaimed, raising her voice to its mightiest... only to find it emerging weak and soft. “This— What have you done to us, foul beast? You declare yourself polite while—” Anodi raised a finger to her mouth and shushed.

“It is also rude to shout, pet. You should know better. Aren't you supposed to be polite? Worry not, I'll have you well trained before you know it.”

The Herald tightened her lips, glaring at her companion. She wished to answer, and yet something deep within rebelled at the idea of speaking when her Goddess had ordered silence. The knowledge that this profane beast was no true Goddess did nothing to quell the anxiety that rose within her when she considered disobedience. The world understood that the word of her Goddess was Truth and Law, and the world would lose faith in her should she disregard it so clearly. If she was honest with herself, so would she.

Anodi chuckled, reaching across to gently stroke a pair of fingers under the Herald's chin. Simple contact burned, as that sacrosanct met profanity of the highest order. The Herald was left squirming in her seat, fighting back the urge to make a sound despite the growing pain. “Goodness, I had heard stories of how you things were with those silly gods of yours, but I hadn't quite believed it until now. I am going to enjoy putting you through eternal torment. That's right, pet, it hurts, doesn't it? Endure it for me.”

For a moment, her teeth seemed sharp and her touch raw. She shifted position, gripping the Herald's entire head, and the burn intensified, joined with a sizzle. Steam, or perhaps even smoke, wafted up from around Anodi's fingers, twirling in the air, and for a moment the Herald could smell nothing but Anodi.

Ash, fire, heat. Sulphurous spice, like chilli powder packed into a cannon and fired. The touch seared and the Herald had little choice but to breathe deep and pray that she could squash the urge to cry out. Her face twisted with agony, the pain of the damnation that awaited them all should her iron will waver, but with every breath she found that will strengthening. With every breath, letting the flame curl within her lungs and warm her from the inside, she found the pain a little easier to endure.

After long seconds, the Herald was confident she was not going to make a sound. She dared to open her eyes again, and found Anodi staring down at her with a possessive pride. She leaned forward with an open mouth and sharpened teeth and licked a long, wet line up the Herald's face. That, too, burned, but an angel was not so weak as to fall to simple pain.

“That's right. Such a good girl you are,” Anodi cooed, so close that her exhalation was the only thing that could overpower the haze of smoke surrounding them. The Herald's lips quivered upwards into an unwilling smile as she breathed in second hand air and felt second hand thoughts drifting across her mind. “Staying silent for your Goddess, no matter what I do to you. I could call the whole negotiation off and simply play with you until you break and you wouldn't utter a word of complaint, would you? Speak.”

“It matters not how my Goddess chooses to use us,” the Herald whispered, voice revenant, “merely that we are of use.”

Her Goddess grinned, finally releasing her angel, and leaned back. The smoke began to dissipate, and with it, the other scents of the world snuck back in, though they no longer seemed quite so pungent. If anything, the hall's own aroma felt mild and inoffensive by comparison to the overpowering stench of mere moments before. It was surprisingly unpleasant, far more so than it had initially felt. Something felt missing without Anodi's spice wrapped around her lungs. The angel reached out with an expression of her power and tried to pull the smoke back in, but the world did not respond to her request.

The Herald found herself staring up towards Anodi with wavering, uncertain eyes. If she focused, she could still catch whiffs of her host's presence, but they cut through her thoughts like they weren't even there and that focus was scattered in an instant. She quickly lost track of how long she spent stuck in a loop of finding focus enough to begin to sate the need in the back of her mind, only to lose it the moment she found an instant of success. However long it was, it was apparently enough for their food to be delivered.

“Something on your mind, my Herald?” Anodi leaned back in her chair, and her presence went with it. The Herald leaned forward to match, acting on subconscious instinct, but she could not get close enough to feel her demon's presence, and smelled only the spices on the profane snacks between them.

“We... no,” she answered, in a voice like a chorus of distant, sleepy angels. A moment later she blinked, coughed, and straightened her back, trying to shake her head clear even as the blush on her cheeks grew darker. “We... we are here to negotiate,” she insisted. “We must... We...”

“Be a good tool for your Goddess, and execute her will even here?” Idona suggested.

“We must be a good tool for our Goddess, and execute her will even here!” the Herald echoed, voice regaining its surety and firmness. She lifted her chin, sat with pride, and summoned a slate and chisel on which to write. “Speak, demon, what are your demands?”

Anodi tutted, shaking her head, and blew the Herald a quick kiss. It was made of the same thick smoke they had been embroiled in before, and the Herald breathed deep on some unexpected instinct, letting it in to scramble her thoughts and inflame her with Anodi's heat. She relaxed back into her chair, though she was not sure if she decided to do so or if it simply happened.

“This is an important bargain, pet. Begin properly, make your Declarations. Intent, Honesty, and Clarity, remember?” As the Herald's mind bathed in Anodi's presence, she found herself staring up at her demoness's eyes, nodding along with her words.

The angel merely blinked, smiling lazily over while her thoughts struggled to collect themselves. “Uh...” she mumbled, blinking rapidly. “Um... right! Yes, we apologise. We are the Herald of Idona, and our actions are Her will. We are Trusted with Her Truth, and Our word is Her Law. We are Empowered to negotiate, and there is no higher authority here but we. Our Word will Bind.”

Across the table, the demon's smile only widened.

Over the next several seconds, with that smile growing sharper, the Herald felt her head clearing up as the cinnamon aroma of the greater hall became dominant once again. She winced, hearing her own thoughts too loud in her own head, like she were shouting, and the apex of each word felt sharp without Anodi's presence there to soften it.

Even the noises of the other demons seemed more painful now, as while the room seemed carefully designed to muffle sound—and the Herald was fairly sure she could sense several enchantments and mechanisms which restricted its movement further still—the low buzz which did reach her still felt like an unwanted pressure on her senses. She was used to the angry roar of a battlefield, where every sound was a new datapoint to keep track of, but this felt somehow more stressful for its novelty. There was more than she could track and yet none of it was important.

“Feeling a little overwhelmed, dear?” Anodi asked. Her voice was the only one that came through clearly. The Herald glanced over at the nearest table and found that she couldn't make out what they were saying, despite their proximity, and from there her eyes quickly found the circle of runes surrounding each table. Anodi apparently noticed that her attention was wandering. “Eyes on me, pet,” she insisted.

The Herald glanced back, up to her host's eyes. Had Anodi always been that tall? And pretty? The predatory grin twitched, and the angel's eyes were drawn down towards it, only to receive another sharp tut. She fixed her gaze onto Anodi's eyes again. They were kind of fascinating in their own right, glittering with a curious profane power just outside the edge of the Herald's conscious perception, like a sound that was too low to be heard and yet was felt all the same. Something about them just wanted to draw her in.

“Crowds can be a lot, can't they?” Anodi gestured around towards the others, though the angel did not follow her finger.

She nodded, feeling a tiny spike of shame as she did. She was supposed to be the Herald of War, and she was getting stressed out by a room full of civillians casually socialising? Not that she could ever admit that to be the case, not to one of the enemy.

“It's so much harder than a battlefield, isn't it?” Anodi paused to receive another nod. “That's right. There, you know just what to do. You have a plan, you have a goal. Here, it's more complicated, isn't it?” Another pause, another nod. “Yes, it is. It helps to have something to focus on, like me, doesn't it? It does. See, just like you're doing now, focusing on me; you're feeling less stressed already, aren't you?”

Another pause. Another nod. The Herald was. The rest of the room was still there, but she didn't have to take it all in. She just had to keep her eyes fixed on Anodi, feeling her dark power like wind tickling against the skin.

“You want to remember to blink, pet, don't you?”

The Herald blinked, once, and then a few more times as she realised how dry her eyes had gotten. The air wasn't as humid as she was used to, she supposed. Her tongue snuck out to moisten her lips, while she was at it.

“That's right. Good pet. Just keep your eyes focused on me. You can feel the rest of the room starting to fade away, can't you? Yeah.” The Herald wasn't sure if she'd nodded before or after Anodi's confirmation, but it was correct all the same. The more she fixated, the less present the room seemed. “Keep your ears focused on me too, so that all the other sounds can just slide off, barely heard and hardly noticed. Yeah, just like that, my pretty little angel.”

The Herald found herself smiling. She didn't get called pretty often. She was, objectively so, yet it was rarely the first word out of anybody's lips when they saw a magically armoured demigoddess falling from the sky.

“And,” Anodi continued, after a beat. “My pretty little angel.” She paused, leaving the Herald a few extra moments to bask in the warmth of being pretty. “Now that you're ever so fixated on me, isn't it so much easier to know what to do? Now that I'm here to tell you, you don't have to worry, do you? Remember why we're here, mmh? We're here to find a middle ground, a compromise. We're here to find a way for you to make me happy, and for me to make you happy, aren't we? We're negotiating.”

The Herald found herself nodding in agreement. “We're... negotiating,” she echoed. Figuring out how to make each other happy.

“But that definition is a little silly, don't you think? That's right, you don't think, do you? Gosh, it's so much work, right? It's a lot. It's so complicated. So much harder than a battlefield, where all you need to do is achieve your objective. Here we could agree anything. It's a lot. It's so stressful, isn't it?” As she spoke, Anodi's voice grew a little faster, a little more worried. “You don't know what I want, and you don't know what I'd be willing to give, and if you get it wrong you could agree to something that doesn't really help. It's so complicated that you're already starting to stress, aren't you? You are.”

She was. The Herald wasn't forgetting to blink, now. In fact, she was blinking fairly rapidly, feeling her heartrate elevate and her hands start to clam up. If she couldn't handle being in a room with other people, how could she handle negotiating for the future of an entire world?

“But it helps to have something to focus on, doesn't it? You know that. So let's both do ourselves a favour and agree to focus, okay? Agree.”

”...okay,” the Herald agreed, realising she was expected to speak. It sounded like a good idea. It worked with the room, after all, why wouldn't it work here?

“Okay. Good girl. You're being very good for me, alright? It's okay. I know that this is so hard for you, but you aren't in this alone. We're both on the same side here, aren't we? We are. We're negotiating for the best outcome for both of us. So, how about we split the responsibilities? I'll focus on how to make you happy, and making sure you leave the negotiations feeling like you won, so you don't need to worry about that any more, okay? Doesn't that sound good?”

The Herald nodded, quickly. “Okay. Yes, that sounds good.” It would take a lot of the edge off, if she wasn't having to be so adversarial about things.

“That's my good girl. Then, so that I can do that for you, I need you to focus too, alright? You can do that for me, can't you?”

“I can do that.” She nodded. She could focus. It was why she was here, to negotiate.

“Such a good pet. In that case, I'll focus on making sure you're happy, and you'll focus on making sure I'm happy, and between us we'll find a nice, happy compromise. That sounds good. You're being such a good negotiator already. So let's begin.” Anodi leaned back and clapped her hands, summoning a writing device of her own. Some kind of black slate with glowing symbols down one side.

The Herald twitched, taking in a sharp breath and wincing as the sharp sound punctured her calm just for a moment, and the rest of the world rushed in to fill the gap. Everything was too loud and she needed to focus.

“Right. Um. Yes. Beginning. Negotiation.” She took a deep breath and lifted her chisel. She had a task here, she could focus on that. So long as she made sure Anodi was happy, everything else would be taken care of. She just had to worry about this one little thing.

The Herald coughed, feeling like a bit of cinnamon had gotten stuck in her throat. She looked down at her slate, trying to focus herself. The ambient roar of the inn felt hot against her ears, while the stench of this rotten future was loud in her nose and her mouth. The colours around them were garish and demanding, sharp and prickly.

Idona's Herald forced herself to take a deep breath. This foul future was what she was here to fight against. It felt like too much, but she had a job to do, and she just had to focus on Anodi and they would come to an agreement, one that would help prevent this cursed course of cause and effect from ever occurring.

“Okay,” she began, glancing up at her negotiation partner. “So, what do you want?”

Her demoness winced, sucking air through clenched teeth. “Oh, my sweet little angel, no. That isn't a good negotiation strategy, is it? No.” She leaned forward, extending a single claw. She drew it slowly up the angel's chin, lifting it by degrees. The air itself seemed to fizz where they met, good and evil coming into contact and not handling it well. It must have been hurting both of them, but the Herald was by far the more mighty. “That puts me in control, see? You surrender the flow of conversation, let our conversation be purely about me. About what I want. Do you really want to put me in control? How would you get what you want, like that, hmn? Don't tell me this is your first negotiation?”

The angel flushed. One sentence in, and she was already messing this up. “We— admittedly— Idona's Word is more often one of combat than compromise.” This was important. She was perhaps managing to ignore the sounds around her, but only because her heart beating in her own chest was overwhelming in its volume. Only because every breath scorched, though thankfully the claw beneath her chin had begun to smoke, and wisps of pleasant-scented black were wafting upwards. She couldn't help but breathe it in.

“Understandable,” Anodi replied, with an easy smile. “Let's try that again, hmn? I already know what I want, but of course, my focus here is making sure that you get what you want, yes? Yes. So, begin by telling me what you can offer me. How can you make me happy, pet?”

The Herald nodded, very slightly, still wary of the claw. Anodi smirked, then pulled it away, watching her angel's hungry eyes as she reflexively took one last deep breath to inhale the last of the smoke. “We— the Angelic Host of War is by far the strongest individual force of its time,” she spoke, rattling off the words as if rehearsed with slightly unfocused eyes. Anodi's warmth curled within her, even if it were rapidly cooling. “While there can be no peace with demons, we could accept your peaceful surrender?”

“How generous.” A giggle rang out across the table, followed by a few moments of scribbling on the much thinner, profane writing tablet. “But do you really want me to accept that? Look around you, pet. Really look around you. See just how many of us there are, in this one room of this one building of this one city. Imagine, for me, if you could, thousands of rooms just like this.”

As she spoke, Anodi dragged a finger down on her magical tablet, and the angel reflexively agreed with the world that her power should have an effect. The binding ring of runes surrounding their table glittered, wavering in intensity, while the control symbols around the edge flicked from one phrase to another.

Sound crashed in.

Suddenly, the Herald could hear the world around clearly, and the same senses that made her indomitable in battle identified and tracked every one. A dozen conversations; no, two dozen. Demons discussing what they were to order for lunch, one table 'enthusiastically' arguing over the interpretation of a die roll, the waitress taking another set of orders. Perfect situational awareness turned to torture her.

More. Worse. Though the room was filled with nothing but demons, she felt the fear some of them held; the nervousness; the excitement. Three of the creatures in this room had been forced here, bound by spellwork and wordplay. Victims, in a sense, of the world gone wrong, for the spells binding them bore the unmistakable aura of Idona's power; the power to fight, to struggle, twisted into its polar opposite: enforced surrender.

The Herald rose to her feet, wings spread wide. Regardless of where she was, there were some forms of injustice she could never let slide. She could summon her strength here, if she could figure out where to point it first.

“Thousands,” Anodi repeated, drawing the angel's attention back. “Perhaps tens of thousands, across the world. “Imagine it, if this one room seems so vivid, then how would a thousand more feel? How far do your senses stretch, Herald of War?”

“As far as they must,” the angel whispered. “No battlefield is beyond me.”

“No battlefield is beyond you,” Anodi agreed, with a smile. “And what is this world but a battlefield? Can you hear them all? The tens of thousands?”

The Herald felt her demonic host flexing her power, and agreed with the world that it should take effect before taking the moment to think that she should have taken. She was already feeling overwhelmed just being here, but as the demon's spell took hold, she began to understand how overwhelmed she truly was.

The room she was in was one of sixteen in the inn. It was the biggest, by far, but there was also an entrance hall and an assortment of bedrooms, bathrooms, and other utilities. The inn was one of five in the village, but the village itself had ninety eight total buildings. In the region, there were two dozen of these villages, but they were all arranged around the great walls of the fortress city of Dai'zin, or what had become of it.

Seven such regions made a country.

Eighteen such countries made a world.

She heard them all, though even her power had limits and she could not understand, could not keep track, could not— could not— it was too much.

The Herald staggered backwards, dropping to her seat, and reached out with her power to undo the spell, to re-ignite the magic circle, anything. She couldn't. She lacked the focus to understand how they worked. The whole world was screaming at her in unison. The whole world was wrong. There were kinds of injustice she could not let slide, and yet she was so surrounded by it that she could not even begin to determine where to start.

“Eyes on me,” Anodi whispered, and her voice was the only one that could cut through the noise. The angel turned, eyes wide and frantic, to focus on her. The only one who she could focus on. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I— we—” The herald stumbled over her own words, and Anodi's expression flickered. She swore quietly under her breath and reached down to her tablet to drag her finger back across. Nothing happened. If the world had reached out to ask the Herald's consent, it had been lost in the uproar. “Too much, too much,” she whimpered, trying to cover her ears with her hands to no clear effect.

“Hey, it's okay,” Anodi replied, voice quiet and soothing. She didn't need to shout to be heard; the Herald could hear everything. She extended a hand and the Herald reached for it on instinct, clutching her lifeline even as the contact burned her skin. “Shhh. It's okay. Just focus on me, okay? You can do that for me, I know you can. You've been doing it so well already.”

With so much skin touching skin, the smoke was already starting to build. The Herald breathed deep, letting the pungent aroma drive out the overwhelming scent of a world bathed in cinnamon and gunpowder. She felt Anodi's warmth settling in the bottom of her lungs, dulling her senses and her perception, and all the world began to blur but Her.

The pair sat there for long moments more, the angel's frantic breaths slowing bit by bit while the demon's words whispered of comfort and warmth.

“Yeah, that's right,” Anodi whispered. “Focus on my words, and let all the other voices fall silent. Focus on my eyes, and let all others be unseen. Focus on me, and let the world outside of simply you and I fall away. You're safe here with me, aren't you, my angel? I won't let you come to harm.”

The Herald nodded, with the roar of a dark future distant in her mind, lost beyond the constant, slow monologue. Ashen spice weighed heavy, leaving her feeling sluggish, almost lethargic, but most importantly, left her magics dulled enough that though they still wished to show her the world, it was too fuzzy for her to really make out the details.

“There's a good girl. There's my good girl. I'm going to let go now, okay?”

The Herald tensed, but after a moment, nodded. They had a negotiation to finish. Anodi gently extracted her hand, wincing as she did. She lifted it to her lips and blew the last of the smoke away. The Herald greedily inhaled, letting a little whimper escape. As she breathed out, a little of Anodi's smoke escaped between her lips, and though it still seemed to burn, she found the lack of it much more painful.

She moved to try to catch it, but her eyes snagged on the sight of her own hands. Where her skin had once been pure and white, the burn of prolonged demonic contact had stained them the same darker purple as Anodi herself. That wasn't right. The Herald was... well, the Herald of a Goddess. Contact should burn, but it should not burn her. She stared down, not quite comprehending, while the aromatic blanket slowly lifted from her thoughts, and her senses began to sharpen. Almost immediately, the Herald felt herself growing tense, shoulders hunching, wings curling in around herself. It was going to be too much. She wasn't going to be able to handle it. She looked up at Anodi, focusing in on her, and that helped, but she knew it wouldn't be enough without the intoxicating blanket to dull her thoughts.

But she had a job to do. She had to negotiate. She had to tell Anodi what she could offer and what she needed, and trust that she would do what was best with it. Stained hands balled into fists as she tried to ward off the overwhelming input of a world lost to heresy. “This is all too much,” she admitted. “All Idona's Host is good for is war and fighting. We– we can fight? If you need?”

“This world has seen too much war already,” Anodi replied, with a sigh, and shook her head. “All that 'goddess' ever brought was strife and pain, and for what?”

“We— because that is Her will?” the Herald asked, voice a little strained.

“It didn't have a will, it was just a force of nature. Fight, fight, fight. Kill, kill, kill. Do you hate me, pet?”

The Herald shook her head sharply, eyes fixed in place. If she let them slip even for a moment, the world would overwhelm her. “Of course not!” she exclaimed, as if shocked to be asked the question. Anodi's smile split into a grin.

“That's a good girl. You don't want to kill me. You aren't here to hurt me, remember? Nod, just like that. Good girl. Not here to hurt me.”

“Not here to hurt you.” The Herald shook her head.

“Good girl.” Anodi's smile softened. “You're here to focus on how to make me happy, right? We agreed on that; all you need to focus on is me, and keeping me happy.” She wiggled a finger, encouraging, only to pull it away as the Herald tried to lean in close. “Say it, pet.”

“Here to focus on you,” the Herald echoed, nodding rapidly. “Keeping you happy.”

As a reward, the finger returned, slipping between angelic lips. The Herald whimpered, spice biting at her tongue. She gasped, sharp, only to feel the heavy heat of smoke swirling down her throat, settling her, soothing the burn of Anodi's flavour. Her tongue grew brave, burning itself on profane flesh.

“Aww,” cooed her demoness. “Is my ditzy little angel feeling needy?”

There was really no other answer to give but a nod. She had to keep her focus on Anodi, or the world would overwhelm her.

“Uh-uh. Use your words.” Anodi pulled her finger back, and though her angel followed as far as she could, she could only lean forward so far before the table got in the way.

“We– Yes,” she breathed, her thoughts starting to clear already.

“Yes what?” Anodi's words were firm and pointed. She reached forward to wipe her finger dry on the Herald's cheeks, then took a moment to inspect it. Unlike the Herald, she seemed no worse the wear for their contact.

“Please,” the Herald gasped, slurring her speech slightly thanks to her freshly forked tongue. “Please, it helps. Please, we need it.”

“That is not a strong negotiating position, pet. What will you give me in return?” Her finger remained frustratingly out of reach. “What can you give me, little Herald of War?”

”...war?” she asked. “Conflict. I'll– I can fight?”

“You aren't here to hurt me.”

The Herald echoed, the call and response now an established pattern.

“Idona's plan was simply to kill us all,” Anodi explained, as if mentioning a by-the-by. “Yet by your own admission, you were sent not to hurt me. Curious. Is my silly little pet too much of a ditz to have noticed the contradiction? Did you think about your orders at all?”

“We—” The Herald paused, blinking rapidly. The eyes of the world focused in hard. Everything dropped away. Anodi, Idona, the inn, the world itself. The silence was absolute. The world stopped turning. The question being asked of her by reality itself was wordless, but she could not fail to comprehend.

Somebody had been caught in a contradiction. Oaths and promises had been made and somebody was not telling the truth. In such cases, the world turned to the highest authority and asked them to adjudicate. These were the questions asked of the Gods.

But the Gods weren't here, and Idona's Herald was. Either Idona's promised plan to wipe out the demons was nothing but a lie, or the order given to negotiate could not have happened. Perhaps the Herald was wrong in her beliefs, that the order had in fact never been given. Perhaps Idona herself was lying to her followers. Perhaps Anodi was playing games with truth. Ordinarily, Idona Herself would be above reproach, as she would decide which of the others to smite, but they were in a future where Idona Herself had fallen and so the question came down to the highest remaining power, the Hera—

“Eyes on me, pet.”

The Herald fixed her gaze on the demoness, spotting the carefree grin on her lips from the edge of her vision. She blinked rapidly, mind racing as she tried to piece together the truth from scraps of lies in an addled mind.

Anodi blew her a kiss, derailing every train of thought at once. “What? Is my ditzy little angel trying to think? Silly little thing, that's hardly your area, is it? You just blindly follow your orders without a moment of critical thinking, don't you? Nod.”

The Herald responded to the sharp instruction before really processing the words. Her prompt obedience earned her a smile, and she felt pride.

“Good pet. No, I don't think this decision should come down to you, should it? No. You're very good at doing as you're told, and it's hardly your fault if you were lied to.” She fixed her gaze on the angel and spoke with weight. “You're nothing but my ditzy little pet, and you won't even believe the words of your precious Idona above mine. Will you, pet?”

It was all too much. Decisions of this magnitude weren't meant for creatures like her. They were meant for the gods. She shook her head quickly. “No. We– We do not know what to believe.”

“No, what?” Anodi insisted. There was nothing to distract from the question, nor the weight of the world's gaze. “You're mine, and I will have respect from my property.”

The world was still looking to the Herald for answers, but the absence of an answer could be an answer too. As the seconds went by and she did not contradict the demoness, she could feel the obvious conclusions being drawn. She let her head fall, staring down at the time-locked table between them.

“No, Goddess. I won't. I don't understand, what you're saying makes sense, but Idona is...”

The Herald winced as gentle fingers brushed across her cheek, burning hot even in their caress. “That's enough, pet. Quiet down, now. You don't need to understand. In fact...” She leaned back, then snapped her fingers and pointed firmly at her feet. “Down, girl.”

Moving in chronostasis was an unusual affair. The air didn't really want to get out of the way. The wood refused to bend or compress. All the same, a scrambling angel found herself carried along on a burst of borrowed intent, taken to her knees, back bent, head low, and despite her magnificent height she found that she did, in fact, fit comfortably beneath the table.

“Goodness, haven't I made such an obedient little toy out of you?” Anodi asked, laughter like music. “Thank me. Be obsequious about it, my helpless thrall.”

Every word hit the Herald harder than the last. She was in this too deep to stop now. Every time she failed to disobey was precedent set, and the world knew it as well as she did. Whether she wanted it to be true or not, Anodi spoke no lies. “Thank you, Goddess,” the angel spoke, after a long moment of failing to work up the willpower to disagree. “We— Thank you very much for making us your obedient toy. Thank you for taking us. Thank you for making us yours.”

Rumbling with delight, Anodi made a sharp gesture with a hand held at her pet's new eye level, pointing again at her feet. “Come,” she insisted.

The stone surface was profane, even here. Cold, hard, lacking the empathy of soil or grass. Though she could have sworn the table had only been a few feet across, it felt like miles from beneath. Perhaps it was? There was no need for the world to make sense to her. Anodi had said that she didn't need to understand, though how could that possibly be true? The world was looking to her for answers, still.

Instead of getting a moment to think, her impatient goddess gestured more sharply, pulling magic from her pet's confused will to shove her forward with a sharp slap across the rear. The Herald of Idona, Goddess of War, cried out in hot shame, forced to crawl on hand and foot to move forward, placing purple-stained palms against slightly uneven stone one after another.

This was wrong. She was an angel! She was the chosen of a Goddess! She was, apparently, the highest authority the world had remaining to it! Yet she was humiliated, treated like little more than an entertaining pet or a cheap thrill. She glanced up, only to find the table much, much longer than she had remembered. Some kind of demonic trickery was afoot, but little good the realisation did her. She had to crawl regardless.

Her cheeks burned as easily as those of any mere mortal. She couldn't even see the demoness's face from here, only her lower half, but that was enough. She could sense Anodi's giddy energy; she was clearly enjoying herself. With even the smallest movements, the Herald dragged her battle dress through the dirt, and even while the floors were actually astonishingly clean they still left her feeling filthy, far from the gleaming white she had once been.

The Herald let her head droop. Was this really how far she had fallen? To crawl before a demon while barely even understanding why?

Anodi tutted, and another sharp gesture brought a second pulse of magic down against her rear, taking the angel's attention by force. “Head up, pet. Smile. Remember, all you have to worry about is making me happy, and I want to see you proud to be my new toy.” Her words were firm, even sharp, though the Herald could not miss the undertone of enjoyment her Goddess was taking in this. She lifted her head, focusing on her, and smiled. If she was making Anodi happy, then she knew she was doing the right thing.

She could not see the resultant smile, but she felt it rippling through the frozen air regardless. The eyes of the world watched closely, but after a moment the Herald realised she didn't need to be afraid of their judgement. She may not truly understand whether Idona had betrayed her by sending her here... but she did understand that her Demoness was happy with her, and so she was doing the right thing.

“Now that's a good girl! Keep this up and you might just earn dinner today.” Anodi chuckled, tail curling around her body in delight. “That's a joke, to be clear. You will earn my generosity. Hmn, let's see... put a bit of a wiggle in your step. Hurry it up, too. Oh, and breathe deep. Get yourself nice and addicted to me.”

The Herald bit her lip, letting her eyes slip closed as she inhaled. Anodi's scent was faint, she must have been whole meters away somehow, but with every step it grew stronger. She began to move faster, following her nose, and found her body naturally emphasising her movements more when she stopped focusing on them so much. All she needed to worry about was pleasing her Demoness, of course the details came naturally.

As she finally approached, the creature's scent grew so intense as to be overpowering, and she felt a familiar, welcome fog begin to cloud her thoughts, and—

The table rocked as she reached the end and found a support beam a few inches lower than the rest of the surface. Her neck yanked back, uncomfortably far, as her halo caught upon it. She and Anodi both squeaked in surprise. The table wasn't supposed to be able to move, it was time-locked! Apparently her halo was so fixed in place that even a stopped clock was not strong enough to break the link.

Regardless, after a moment of rubbing feeling into the back of her neck, the Herald opened her eyes and gorged herself on the view. Anodi Herself, viewed from the proper place, kneeling just between her legs while the demon paid attention to something else entirely. Though no magic had been cast, there was a clear tingle growing in her chest, in her throat, in her mind. One of Anodi's hands came down to rest heavy atop her head. It burned, even here.

“There's a good angel,” her demon cooed, gently stroking through her hair as she pushed down, moving her Herald to settle in comfortably against her thigh. “There's my good angel. Isn't that right? Don't answer that, pet. You don't need to know the answers, do you? No. Don't answer that, either, just settle in there, nice and comfortable, and let me make all the decisions.”

Her other hand came down to rest against her angel's cheek, pressing her in on three sides. The contact burned. Acrid, ashen smoke was already building around her, reducing visibility to almost nothing. The entire world shrunk to encompass only Anodi. The pain was exquisite, cathartic, burning away the humiliation of maybe having lost and leaving only the pride of being hers. A slight shift of position pressed the Herald's lips up against Anodi's skin, and on instincts barely muted by her sluggish mind, she began to worship her Goddess.

“Oh yes, that's it, just like that. Fuck but it's hot to have you so broken for me.” The beautiful voice of a diety wavered slightly, trying to maintain her air of detached superiority and only largely succeeding. “For all you know, I could be the one who tricked you, hmn? Maybe I just wanted my own pet angel.” Her fingers scritched, gently at first, but soon growing rough. The angel whimpered as claws drew blood. “Perhaps that goddess of yours really was unimpeachable, truly, and never said a word out of place?” Her other hand wrapped around her angel's neck and began to squeeze, firmly enough that breathing quickly became impossible. “Maybe I was playing you all along, and you could smite me with a word and go back to that perfect little life you had.”

Why was she saying this? The Herald felt her head clearing more the longer she was kept from breathing Anodi's musk, only to have that temporary capacity begin to fail as her oxygen ran short. Anodi was a demon, a creature of trickery and deceit. Idona was a goddess, the personification of truth itself.

The vicious grin that stared down from above made the answer plain as day. Of course Anodi had been playing her from the start, and a single word could fix all of this. With a firm hand clamped around her windpipe, she couldn't utter so much as a grunt. Finally, it began to dawn on her just how thoroughly she had failed.

Anodi held firm, looking down at the asphyxiating angel as the light in her eyes started to wink out for good. The demon shivered, head to toe, letting out the most profane moan of appreciation before finally releasing her grip. Air rushed into the Herald's lungs, but along with it came the irresistable scent of her. “But you don't care about the truth, do you? It's too much to ask you to decide, isn't it? Don't answer, remember. You don't need to answer. You'll never need to answer a question again. Just breathe deep, and learn your new place.”

The Herald got the sense that Anodi was not only talking to her only when she felt the weight of the world's gaze began to lighten. She inhaled obedience, and exhaled the last dregs of her purity, losing herself in worshiping the body before her.

“That's right!” Anodi grinned, pinching her cheek and patting her head. “You're nothing but a pretty plaything, aren't you? Don't answer. You're a dumb, silly toy who just does whatever she was told to do last, aren't you? Don't answer. Even though you've given all those oaths, spoken all those words of devotion to that wannabe goddess, you're mine and mine alone, aren't you? Say 'Yes, Goddess.'”

“Yes, Goddess,” the Herald gasped, between one burning kiss and the next. She could feel the weight of each of them as direct contact stained her soul. She cried out in profane bliss as Adoni gave her one last pat on the head, then reached up and tore her halo free.

The world's gaze left her entirely as what little defence she had left faltered and failed. This close to her Goddess, her presence was simply overwhelming, and each breath left her only more desperate for the next, a desire tempered only by the need to show her devotion through her acts of worship. The world had seen her subservience and decided she was little more than an extension of her owner's will.

”... authority she had is now mine ...” The Goddess's thumb brushed across her lip, drawing out a panting promise of unending obedience. “... matter at hand, I judge that neither I nor my pet ...” Her Divine skin burned so wonderfully against Her angel's cheek as she nuzzled in deep, showing affection without a care for how the world would interpret it. “... didn't understand; doesn't need to understand ...” She didn't understand the meaning beneath her actions. She didn't need to understand the meaning beneath her actions. She was free. She was finally free.

”... good spirits. Good world. My world.” The Goddess's fingers gently curled around one of Her pet's horns, holding it firmly in Her fist as She lifted Her pet to look towards Her. Immediately, Her Herald felt the world's gaze again, though it felt little like it once had. It was simply Her gaze now, and Her pet knew Her judgement would be fair, even if Her ditzy little thing could not understand it.

She breathed deep, smelling nothing but Her, seeing only Her now glowing as if lit perfectly despite the relatively poor lighting in the room. “And, you are such a good pet,” She exclaimed, absent mindedly bending the halo still in Her grip. “I'd explain to you the chronotheological ramifications of what we just did, but you don't need to understand, do you? You may answer, now that you are answering only to your Goddess, only to Me.”

Her pet shook her head, slowly, with a dazed and distant smile on Her pet's face. “No, my Goddess. Your pet doesn't need to understand Your judgement. Thank You for saving Your worshipper from Your worshipper's own thought.”

Anodi cackled. “Good toy. That's exactly right. Whatever you used to be before I saved you doesn't matter at all. Your sins against Me are forgiven. You just need to do exactly as I tell you to do.” A flick of Her fingers broke the halo open. “You just need to think exactly as I tell you to think.” She lowered it to Her toy's neck. “You just need to be exactly what I tell you to be.” She clicked it shut, sealing it with a tiny fraction of Her power. Her plaything was not asked for its opinion.

“Isn't that right, My love?”

Her pet nodded, so suffused with Her presence that Her plaything wasn't sure Her possession could even kneel without leaning on Her for support, never mind stand, and smiled wider still.

“Yes, Goddess,” Her acolyte sighed, staring up until Her prize lost itself in Her eyes entirely.

I slammed my fist into the wall. The sickening crack of my own bones breaking echoed down the alleyway.

Stupid fucking thug dodged my blow. How dare he? Didn't he know who I was? With a thought, I willed my power into action, filling my hand with a warm tingle that reknit my bones and snapped my skin back into place. With a growl, I pushed further, to tear claws from my fingers.

My next swipe was decisive.

Blood splashed over the pavement.

It dripped down my claws, but I cast the man's vitae aside with a sharp swing, splattering the white-paint brickwork that surrounded us. The very same brick building these criminals had been trying to break into, probably to steal, or to loot, or to vandalise.

I turned, focussing my sharp eyes on the next thug in line. She was backing away, but too busy staring at her fallen comrade to pay attention to the fight. “Y'know,” I quipped. “If you'd spent less money on Starbucks and Netflix, maybe you could have afforded to learn some situational awareness?”

I danced to the side, ducking into a spin to put as much force behind a kick as possible. The brick went flying, clipping her on the side of the head. She and it struck the ground in concert.

My powers hadn't taught me how to fight, but they had amped my strength and reflexes up so far that that hardly mattered. I'd been a brawler as a kid and I was a brawler now, only with ten times the force behind every blow.

“Oh. And you probably wouldn't have had to resort to crime, huh?”

I flipped open my phone and called it in.

“Yeah, uh, and I stopped another burgulary over in Saint Pauls last night, too.”

I was sitting on a rusted metal chair so uncomfortable that only the tingle of miraculous power kept me from needing to get up and stretch my legs. “Dangerous one, too, I think. They looked like they were really ready to fight.”

“I see.” The man at the other side of the desk looked over at the computery thing to his side. He must have been forty-something, maybe early fifties, with greying hair, a bushy mustache decorating his upper lip, and an impending sense he was moments away from talking about 'kids these days'. He tapped a few keys on his keyboard with a clack clack clack. “Okay. What else?”

“I couldn't find anything else.” I glanced away. “I was out every night, but ever since the Powers in Policing Act passed it's been harder to find—”

“I just need the answer, Grace, it's a checkbox on the form, I can't put anything else in.”

I picked at the little hole in my top. Well. The hole in my top. “I didn't find anything else.” I could feel my heart twisting as I spoke the words. I was fucking superhuman. I could tear everybody in this room in half without breaking a fucking sweat. I shouldn't need to deal with this shit. Every two weeks without fail, having to report in to these fucks. If I missed an appointment, there went my stipend. If they missed an appointment, it was my problem too. I should just get up and tear this place in half.

Then what? Get a Knighted Constabulary breaking down my door? I could grow claws, bulk myself up, change my shape in almost any way I could want, so long as I could understand well enough how it worked, but none of that would do shit against anointed armour. Miraculous my biology may have been, but I still had to follow biological possibility. I couldn't face down the Royal Guard.

I gritted my teeth and looked back at the kind, sympathetic face of a civil servant.

“When you came to us, you agreed to a claimant commitment, Grace. Three violent crimes prevented per calendar week and at least fifty hours of searching. Those were the requirements you set out. I'm sorry, I'm going to have to put you on sanctions.” He smiled the understanding, ostensibly apologetic smile of somebody who didn't give two fucks what happened to people like me. You know the one. It's only people like him who don't.

“I— That's bullshit!” I exclaimed. “What do you want me to do, lie? If there's nothing happening, there's nothing to stop!”

Fuck, why did I even need to do this? I'd had a good job, before. Before I developed powers and suddenly my attitude was 'intimidating' and my suggestions weren't 'being a team player'. Firing somebody over their powers was supposed to be a crime, but it was my word against theirs and they had the lawyers.

“Have you considered travelling further out? You could also look for crimes that aren't quite your preferred type. I hear there's a lot of drug use these days, and many of my other 'cules have been using the new—”

His voice faded into a blur. I'd had the speech before. I left with blood rushing in my ears, before I risked starting to spill it.

Nobody ever suspected the small black cat. Even if somebody had noticed me—which was unlikely, given the lateness of the hour—the sight of a cat prowling around early morning harbourside was commonplace enough to be unworthy of note.

Oh, right, and that cat was me. Nature's tiny little predators were a perfect choice for a superheroine who needed to get around without making a scene.

Anyway, I'd only just arrived when my lack of sleep betrayed me. I yawned, a soft miaow apparently loud enough to catch my prey's attention. Shit. I could make my biology do just about anything I understood, but there were a dearth of good public domain research papers on what exactly sleep did. Without knowing what I had to fix, making myself immune to sleep was far too risky. Unfortunately, a twenty three hour day hit me as hard as it would anybody else.

Ugh. They were coming over. I backed up a couple inches and bared my teeth, raising my tail in the universally understood language of fuck off. They turned back, but only to signal another one of the gathered goons loitering outside the bank.

Not a branch, I mean—nobody robbed banks in the year of our lord twenty twenty two, you'd maybe get twenty k and you'd definitely get a criminal record—but a big office block filled with, as far as I knew, nothing interesting. Just papers and computers. Probably that was interesting to somebody, I guess. I still had complicated feelings about offices. I used to work in one, before— Well, that was in the past, and I had to look forward now.

Where was I? Right, office buildings. Papers, computers. Silent alarms, too. I'd been getting ready for bed when the notification had come in, and at this point my reflexes were well trained. I'd hit the accept button in the app before I'd even had a chance to read the details. It was either that or surrender yet another crime to Southern Belle, and quite frankly she could get fucked for all I cared. She didn't even need the money, she just did this for fun. Bitch. Didn't she realise we couldn't all live off of our business empires?

I blinked rapidly, snapping back to the present as two fingers tapped against the top of my head. I realised I'd gotten distracted, yet again, and I'd been snuck up on. “You okay, kitty?” the goon asked, giving my skull another quick tap. I glanced past them only to find the entrance to the building was now being covered by another couple of goons. So much for sneaking in. I stared up at the one bothering me for a moment, then hissed. Go away. I was busy.

“Uh-huh. C'mon, kitten, let's get you some food.” They reached out, grabbing me. I yelped and tried to wrestle out of their grip, but before I could get anywhere they had the scruff of my neck between a forefinger and thumb and I just...

My power did let me take some shortcuts, I figured. I didn't need to know everything about how a creature worked, just enough for something else to fill in the gaps. The religious lot would tell you it was God helping you along; the Tories were adamant that it was the Queen's Grace; but there was near universal—and unanimously ignored—agreement among miraculous biologists that powers just tended to dig into the subconscious.

There were some research papers on that in the public domain. Studies on the exceptionally abled, but with brain damage, or who'd been intensely traumatised, or who's worldviews had changed significantly since they'd Embodied. All ended up suggesting that there was a statistically significant link between how somebody's power worked and how they, y'know figured it should work. Southern Belle's instructions were always interpreted how she expected them to be because she had a lifetime of getting her way without having to work for it. Arktis Verge's lasers didn't bend when going through water because he was a fucking idiot. Shadow Huntress—that's me!—'s animal shapes worked like the animals did because I had expectations of how animals behaved. I wasn't as good at exotic creatures, and I was kind of afraid of dogs and hedgehogs, but I could do cats pretty well.

At least, that's the theory. I'm just a cat, not a scientist, what do you want from me?

Anyway. Point is, the moment their fingers grabbed me by the scruff I felt my limbs all falling slack. I was pretty sure I should be more concerned about it than I was, too. The person picked me up, cradling me in one arm while keeping a tight grip with the other, and I realised I was a tad stuck.

The disguise of being just a cat only worked if I behaved like a just a cat, right? The moment I broke character I'd lose the element of surprise. So, there I was, trapped in a cage of expectation. If I broke free, they'd know it was me and they'd alert whoever was inside the building. If I got another four star rating I'd lose first refusal on local jobs, which essentially meant getting nothing but the gruntest of grunt work. No thank you.

“Aww!” one of the guards cooed as I was carried over. “He's a cutie! Can I get a picture?”

“She, I think,” replied my captor, giving me a quick squeeze. “No collar, though. Must be a stray. Seemed terrified when I went to say hello, right froze up an' everything. Claire said there was a break room inside we could use? I wanna go see if I can get this poor thing something to drink. It seems so cold and lonely.”

“Oh aye, Abby, finding the first excuse to skip guard duty again?” The guard rolled her eyes, but opened the door. “Fine, but I want that picture when you're done.”

The goon holding me—'Abby'—slipped through into the building and the door closed behind us. Well. That was one way to infiltrate a crime scene. Now I just needed to slip away from Abby—was that short for Abigail? Probably. That was a nice name. I'd considered that for my own name, but, I liked Grace too—and figure out what was going on in here.

For that, though, I'd need a moment to myself. We travelled down a corridor, and then another, and— At some point I realised I'd gotten distracted trying to figure out what perfume Abby was wearing. I could have sworn I recognised it. Something with strawberries? Unfortunately, by the time I'd realised, I also had to realise I was lost. These old office complexes were laybrinthine, and I couldn't risk an altercation with a minotaur.

Abby backed into a door, twisting the handle with her butt and pushing it open with her shoulder, and we emerged into the most boring room I'd ever visited. Beige walls dotted with beige posters informing me of such delights as office policy on personal calls (no), chatting (also no), and family emergencies (definitely no). Chairs with auras that seemed to suck the life out of me just from thinking about sitting in them. A fridge that looked like it hadn't been cleaned out since the Emergence.

Abby knelt, finally letting me loose. Thankfully, instincts kicked in before I'd had time to think, spinning me around in mid air so I could hit the ground feet first. Not thankfully, the door had one of those little smooth round knobs for a handle and my paws would not open one.

Curse you, interior design trends from the—I glanced around the room and tried to guess at its age—mid-1830s. I'd get the better of you one day.

I looked around, hoping for a backup option. Hmn. There was a vent! Excellent! I loved vents. Vents were great. All the best buildings had vents. It had a little metal grating covering it, but very few ventilation systems had “human-intelligence cat deliberately trying to get inside” as a seriously considered threat model.

I leaped! My second favourite part of being a cat, after curling up in a sunbeam. Up onto a chair, then to a table, then over to one of the walls with my claws unsheathed. I landed halfway to the ceiling, kicked off again, and scrambled up on top of a horrible looking coffee vending machine. From there, up onto the row of cupboards that lined one of the walls. I sauntered the last few feet and stared down the vent, looking for some aspect of it that'd give if I applied enough force. The screws were small, they'd probably shear right off if I could get a claw under the grate.

“Where did—” Abby grumbled from behind me. “Oh, kitty! C'mon, I turn my back for five seconds! How did you even get up there, love? Come on, down you... uh... Oh!”

I looked back just in time to catch the business end of a broom being raised to my level. Abigail carefully pushed me off. I yelped, grabbing onto the handle to avoid falling into the sink below—full of cold, used washing up water! Eugh, the thought of getting soggy crumbs on my coat chafed. I hissed, then began shuffling down the broom handle as quickly as I could. I'd show Abby what I thought of this behaviour. She'd pay for this betrayal.

Or I'd try to make her pay, anyway. I reached out to swipe her across the nose, but she waved the broom hard enough I lost my grip and fell. I tried to turn to land on my feet, but she snatched me out of the air, gave me a quick hug while I was too disoriented to respond, then set me down in front of a bowl of milk.

I turned up my nose. Embarassing. I wasn't going to drink out of a bowl. I was better than that. I wasn't going to drink it. It was normal to stare this hard at things you weren't going to engage with.

The thing was, though, I was hungry. I wasn't skipping meals or anything, I'd just decided to go without dinners as a cost-cutting exercise. It was financial planning. Alas, my animal snout smelled things so much more than my human one ever had, and something about the smell was just divine.

Or, and hear me out here, maybe I was just starving.

It wasn't embarassing if I was a cat, I decided. I leaned in and began to lap at this bowlful of ambrosia, rumbling softly. Full fat, just like I liked it. Fuck me but I'd been hungry, hadn't I? After a few moments I felt Abby's hand on my back, slowly stroking down my fur with a firm, gentle pressure. I'd hiss at her later, I guessed, and continued finishing my meal. I was busy.

It was just liquid, though. It was still a lot better than nothing, and I found myself grateful, but a proper meal would have been nice. My stomach still rumbled. My nose sniffed of its own accord, alerting me to food. I raised my head and found myself immediately assaulted with a potent scent. It drew my gaze up and around to the gooey little chunk of—

I closed my eyes and breathed deep—

Spiced and flavoured soy? Something vegetarian, anyway. I sniffed deeper, smelling the slightly acrid afterscent of industrial processing, and the much sweeter tangles of Abby's perfume mixing with her natural odor. It was a nice scent. After a few moments of getting lost staring up at the woman, I eventually spotted the open pouch of vegetarian cat food lying next to her. She held the chunk out for me.

I was supposed to be a wildcat. I didn't take food from humans! But... I was really bloody hungry, y'know? I was pretty sure my local's idea of a “meal deal” cost more every week, and the portions only shrank. Plus, cats burned through a lot of calories on a hunt.

I snuck forward, careful, careful, then batted it right out of her hand. It bounced off of the floor and I pounced, devouring it in two hungry bites before she could think about taking it away from me. Fucking gods it was delicious. Why had I never tried this before? Decent cat food was so much cheaper than good human food. It felt like the spices were specifically formulated to drive me wild. That may actually have been the slogan on the packet. Speaking of the packet, I dived for it. One of Abby's hands warded me off while a second redirected me with another chunk, pulling my attention towards the closer food. I went in to bat it free, but she was ready for me, and pulled it back.

“Nuh-uh, kitty. Play nice.” She held it out of reach, staring me down until, reluctantly, I sat back on my haunches and waited. Ugh. I shuffled awkwardly, staring up at my prize, mouth slightly parting in readiness.

After a few moments, the offer was extended once more, and I feasted. After that, the rhythm established itself quickly. She'd hold out a few chunks in her palm, and I'd eat them while she lavished me with calming strokes and pets. At some point I ended up in her lap, I'm... not entirely sure when. It was... weirdly pleasant, but maybe I would have thought that about anybody who fed me something more filling than a cardboard and sandpaper baguette.

I was going to escape after she was done feeding me. I was, I promise, but the thing is that a whole pouch of cat food felt like quite a lot after an eighteen hour fast. It wasn't even my biomatter, so my powers were useless here. I really didn't want to move. I didn't fall asleep, though, even though like I said I hadn't slept for twenty two hours. It was a food coma, which is completely different.

Abigail slowly lowered me onto my side, curled up in her lap, and used a pair of fingers to slowly lull me to sleep.

I woke to a sudden bump. The familiar sound of moving vehicle rumbled in my ears and in my chest. I perked up, but a moment later the hand atop my head pushed me back down. I should have slipped away, I knew, but the hand smelled like Abby and she had my whole head in a gentle hold, with a thumbnail gently scratching behind my ear. I settled down, because...

Fuck.

It'd just been a long while since I'd had a hug, y'know? Abby was a criminal, and I was going to have her put into one of Her Majesty's gaols, but she was also warm and smelled nice and cared about me.

Or, at least, the cat I was pretending to be. Gods, why was I still here? I needed a plan. I'd royally fucked up the job, but it seemed Abby wasn't ready to put me out on the streets just yet. Maybe I could learn something. I closed my eyes to cut out the constant motion from the windows and tried to focus on listening instead.

“—what we came for, yeah. All on this little thumb drive,” somebody was saying, pitch raising at the end in something that could have been a laugh. It was hard to tell; was that a welsh accent? Something a bit unusual, anyway. Not foreign unusual, which was odd for a criminal, but I supposed a welshwoman was probably as capable of evil as any other alien.

“Please tell me you didn't just copy incredibly important data all onto that, Sam?”

'Sam' definitely laughed that time. “Of course not, C, don't worry. It's all uploaded; Liz is probably already elbow deep in code figuring out how to analyse it all already. We stuck to the plan, don't stress about it, it all went perfect.”

Another bump in the road set me squirming. Potholes weren't exactly uncommon around here. I could probably have figured out where we were from the pattern, but I didn't think I could recognise it in a van. I'd never learned to drive, and honestly I really didn't like the things. I shied deeper into Abby's lap, earning a coo, a scratch under the chin, and a deep feeling of personal safety.

I hated cars. Vans. Busses were kind of okay, I guessed, but smaller vehicles made me so uncomfortable. They were just constantly loud, with the sound of wheels on the road fighting with the engine, and everybody shouting over the top of the cacophany. I hated it. That much noise just stressed me out.

“Do you even know if it's house trained?” asked a voice. Whoever 'C' was. Was that Claire? Whoever'd been guarding the doors had mentioned a Claire. Maybe she was in charge around here

I startled. Oh, heck. They were probably taking me right back to their lair! Re–sult! Not just stopping a crime, but taking down their whole operation? That'd get me back at a five star average fo-sho. Maybe even onto the partners list, and then I'd get called in for the real stuff!

“It is a she, Claire, and...” Abby coughed. “Admittedly I'm not sure, but, but—” I felt hands wrapping around my torso, just under my forelimbs. I was lifted up and placed on display for everyone. “Look at her! Look at her coat! She's beautiful, but she's so unkempt! And scruffy! And she must be starving, she was so eager for food! And no collar, so, y'know, she's a stray! This isn't even catnapping! Free cat! Can I keep her? Please? Pretty please? You know I've been wanting a pet.”

I opened my eyes to look up at Claire.

At Styx. My arch enemy and the queen bitch behind my current lacking Instacrime rating.

I tried to keep my cool, I really did, but this wasn't the first time we'd met and the time before had left me in the hospital. I gave it a ninety percent chance she'd seen the security footage and knew exactly what my cat form looked like. This was a real, first rate supervillain. Out of my league, but fuck her.

I felt my power throbbing through my veins, curling around my bones. It blurred my vision and filled my ears with the sound of my own beating heart. I could be fighting in half a second. Surely I could take her if it was a surprise, in an enclosed space? She wouldn't be expecting me. It maximised my advantages and devastated hers.

The problem was, of course, that I was in a moving vehicle filled with other people. I could almost certainly take one woman, but Styx was a gifter, capable of granting invulnerability to others. I had no idea what 'invulnerable' actually meant to her, but I did know it had seriously thrown off my plans last time.

My arch-nemesis smirked down at me. “She's cute. What's she called?”

“I was thinking Sphynx,” Abby replied, without skipping a beat. “Sticks with our theme, and—” She coughed, then pulled me back in for a one-armed hug with her spare hand pressing my head into her chest, which also flattened my ears and stole the rest of the conversation away. I had to admit it was a relief, there was so much noise in the van that it had been overwhelming, but this way the only thing I needed to hear was Abby's heartbeat thump-thumping into my ear.

Maybe she'd sensed my discomfort. She kept me there for the rest of the ride, head pressed into her chest while her other hand slowly stroked, reminding me that I was safe and nothing was going to hurt me. She probably didn't know why it worked. She wouldn't have been stroking me like that if my cover had been blown. I really was safe here.

Unfortunately, the journey was almost over, and I only got a few blissful minutes. Abby kept me close even when the van finally stopped, carrying me out. She held on tight, which I had to admit made sense. My behaviour so far indicated that I'd run if I could. They didn't know that I was exactly where I wanted to be: Styx's lair. I was gonna trash her whole operation, all because nobody ever suspected the little black cat.

The four or five occupants of the van made their way into what looked like a pretty nice house, maybe even a small mansion. We must have been somewhere on the outskirts of the city. I wasn't totally sure where exactly. It was too nice an area for me to get to regularly, that was for sure. They had a garden. A well maintained one. God dang, I wasn't sure I'd ever touched an actual garden.

The next few minutes were blur, folks unpacking their van and bringing papers, files, hard drives, and all manner of other things inside while Abby and I watched over them. That part was nice too. It was like spying on them, except I didn't have to do any of the work. I just got held in place where I could watch intently, trying to will myself to remember the details later.

I wouldn't, but, y'know. I had to try.

Once the loot had been properly organised—it was kinda cute that they had labelled boxes for 'blackmail material' and '(stolen) cat photos' next to each other—Abby had apparently had enough. She headed for the bathroom, and I wondered if this was my moment. She surely wouldn't take me in with her.

As the bathroom door clicked shut behind me, I realised that was exactly her intent. She carefully put me down into the bathtub, then busied herself organising various products. Seems like maybe she just wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle for a bit? I definitely related to that. People could be a lot, and sometimes I needed to be the only person in the room for a while too. I carefully clambered up the side of the bathtub—needing several tries, thanks to the smooth ceramic—and miaoed up at her, earning a quick ruffle and a smile.

“Gosh, you've gotten friendly,” she noted. “I guess the way to a cat's heart really is through the stomach.”

I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

After a few more minutes of organisation, Abby turned, armed with bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and grabbed the showerhead. She was dang lucky that I trusted her, because usually anybody who dared to point a showerhead at me would get a faceful of claw. “Let's get you all cleaned up,” she threatened, trying to scratch beneath my chin with a pair of fingers. I backed away, staring up at the instrument of torture held above. Hang on, I hadn't agreed to this!

My clear discomfort was not enough to change her mind. Abby reached over and pulled a lever, and water shot out in my general direction. Ack! It was freezing! I yowled! I didn't need to just take this! I did my best to get away and... entirely failed.

She was ready for everything! And the bathtub was too smooth to get a grip on! I tried to leap out, but my claws just scratched against the ceramic uselessly. I tried to climb up the side of the bath, but all it took to push me back down was a flick of the wrist to set the water's full might on me, and I was washed back down into the tub. I wasn't sure how long it took me to just give up, but an indeterminate amount of time later I found myself meekly sitting with conditioner all lathered through my fur and a stream of hot water cleaning me off.

It felt magical. The showerhead seemed pretty good by human standards, but in a feline form it was a torrent of warmth. Abby's firm fingers had been almost everywhere as she'd worked the conditioner in and— fuck! That was what she smelled like! The strawberry-scent of her conditioner now wafted up off of me, too, and I smelled it more intensely with every breath. I luxuriated in the water as Abby scrubbed me clean. It was over all too quickly.

As she hung up the showerhead, she reached out towards me with a loose fist. Acting on some instinct I didn't know I had, I shuffled forward and rubbed my cheek against it, purring gently.

“Now, Sphynx, are you going to be a good girl for me and let me wrap you up in this towel?” Abby asked. Ah. Back to the threats. She lifted a small square of bright pink fluff. I miaoed back up, though of course she wouldn't expect me to understa—

Fingers under the chin. Nails scratching behind my ears. In my moment of weakness, a towel wrapped me so tightly I couldn't move. “Yeah, thought so. Cutie.” Abby giggled. “C'mon, Claire should be ready for us by now.”

Uh. Why would we be going to see her? I tried to struggle free, but the towel was wrapped tight enough there was nowhere for me to go. I wouldn't even be able to shift my shape like this, I had no room to grow into. Abby cradled me in her arms as we wandered through their little castle. We entered into into the first room I'd seen that actually seemed to deserve the description of lair.

The lighting was dramatic. The floor was an old dark wood, while the walls seemed like metal. Racks of computers lined one wall, with trophies of Styx's victories on another. Then, in the middle of the room, the supervillain herself. Full costume.

Okay. It was game over for the spycraft, then. As Abby was putting me down, she messed up and the towel slipped just a little, just enough for me to get a claw pointed out through the fluff. In a storm of teeth and sharpness I shredded it to ribbons and let my power loose, snapping back to superhuman form in the blink of an eye.

The room froze. I grinned. Element of surprise, bitch!

I pounced, enhanced muscles pushing me forward with claws so sharp no natural creature could have sustained them. I reached out to end her. Powers wouldn't matter if I could make the decisive strike before she had a chance to think.

Styx stepped to the side and let me tumble past. I hit the ground in a roll, recovered, and kicked off one of the computer racks. It crashed down to the ground, forcing a wince out of poor Abby. Oh, she must be heartbroken. I didn't have time to think about that yet. I pressed my assault and this time I forced a response. Styx reached out with an arm to knock mine aside, sending my blow wide. I growled, baring teeth.

“Night Huntress, right?” she asked, dancing a pair of half steps backwards while deflecting my fury. I was going at her like a monster, why the fuck could I not connect?

“Shadow Huntress,” I spat, going for her throat. Unfortunately, I overreached, and a sharp shove on my back had me tumbling to the floor. I pushed myself back up in an instant and was upon her yet again.

“Apologies,” Styx replied, waving one hand airily while the other fended off my attacks. “We had a Night Huntress back in Manchester, I must have gotten you two confused. Won't happen again!” she exclaimed, cheery as anything while I tried to gouge out her eyes.

She paused halfway through a motion, apparently realising one of my strikes was going to go wide even without her help. Fuck, I was getting sloppy. Her hand came up, open palm, to strike me in the chest. I lost balance, but I'd almost recovered when she kicked my leg out from under me and had me on the ground again.

“It'd better not,” I growled, scrambling over to one of the walls and pushing myself back up to my feet. I was breathing deep, but my power kept me at top performance each and every moment. I wouldn't slow down. She would. “You'd think you'd know your nemesis's name.”

Along with the quip, I rushed in. I finally landed a hit, tearing a shallow line across her cheek. Finally, a break in her guard! There'd be more where that'd come from! Now, what had I done right? Why had she messed up?

Because... she was laughing? What—fucking—ever, god, how could one person be this infuriating. I pressed my assault. Unfortunately, that one hit was all I got. Even while laughing she managed to dodge or block my blows, even if only by inches, and any mistake I made was punished immediately. She couldn't do me any real harm, but I could feel my focus slipping as I got angrier.

“My what? Honey, I'm sorry, but I didn't even know who you were before Abby brought you to my attention.” I faltered, losing my stance. She stepped over and flicked me on the end of the nose, before dancing back out of my reach. I turned to look at Abigail, who had taken a seat at the edge of the room, watching with an intense expression.

Styx grabbed my attention again. Literally, she reached right through my distracted guard and pulled my face back around to focus on her. “But, I've spent the last few hours looking into you, and—” She paused, pulled a face, and moved. As I came in for a blow, she stepped aside, hand grabbing my wrist. She danced, and as I came around to strike her with my free hand, she took that from me too too, pushed me off balance, and pinned me down on the floor. I tried to fight, but I had no leverage, even with superhuman muscles. The moment she'd chosen to end it, it had been over in seconds.

“And,” she continued, hardly even out of breath, “your form is so sloppy I that doubt you'd ever get another hit in. I swear, are you just entirely coasting on having superpowers, here? Take a self defence class, please. I'm not even third dan, that was embarassing.”

I growled and tried to fight my way up, but even with just one hand she had me right where she wanted me. “Oh, fuck off. Do you know how much those cost? Not all of us can just steal our money and live in big mansions.”

“Kitten,” Abby interjected. “Be polite, please.”

I shot her a glare, but the resulting game of emotional chicken was not one I was equipped to win. I looked away first.

“What, this place?” Styx asked. “Gosh no, we got this the old fashioned way. I used to be a project manager, Abby over there did software development, et cetera.” She coughed. “'course, the last owner was a landlord who mysteriously decided to sell all of his houses for pennies after I found out he was scamming his tenants out of the money they needed to eat. Coincidence, I assure you.”

I thought of my own landlord, doing much the same to me. Hang on, it wasn't a scam. “That's just rent! Rent is a normal and legal thing to do! Breaking the law isn't justified, even if you don't like what somebody does with their property!” I complained.

“Right, right, we've all got to do our part to keep the status quo rolling, right?” Abby suggested.

I nodded. “Right.” Maybe I could convince her to give up her evil ways? Abby was nice. She couldn't be a real criminal. “I know you probably think you're in too deep, but— Both of you, if you give yourselves up you'll get a chance to make your pleas in front of a judge. They might take pity. You could be out in ten to twenty years.”

“Hmn!” Styx was rummaging around behind me. I couldn't see for what, but whatever it was, it probably wasn't good. “Begging for the mercy of the ruling class, huh? You really think that's a viable option?”

I gritted my teeth. I was trying to help them! “It's— I wouldn't put it like that, but, of course! If you work with people, they'll be more likely to want to help you. Don't be one of the bad ones, please. You just make it harder for the rest of us.”

“Which is why you can't afford self-defence classes and you're so touch-starved all we needed to do to catch you was literally pick you up and take you home. Because you're one of the good ones, huh?” Styx turned back to me and tapped my shoulder with something made of cold metal. “How's that working out for you?”

“It's— That's not how it works. I know things are bad right now, what with the Recession and everything, but—”

“The recession that's been going on for our entire lives? While the billionaires become trillionaires? Things aren't bad, we're just all getting robbed.”

“Y'know what, fuck you, Styx!” I exclaimed. I dare not look over at Abby. Did she agree with this toxicity? “If you put as much effort into campaigning as you do pointless evil then maybe you could actually change something! I know the Labour leader isn't... great right now, but he'd be better than nothing.”

Styx laughed hard enough I actually managed to slip an arm free. Before I could capitalise on it, she casually grabbed it and hauled it behind my back again. Fuck. “The same Labour who hasn't won an election since the Emergence? Long before either of us were born? Please. They're a pile of liberals and centrists who gave up their ethics for votes and ended up with neither.”

“At least they're something! What the hell are you doing?”

“Direct action, like,” Abby interrupted. “Everything we steal either goes on our upkeep or gets used for local community support. The documents we just nabbed should get us a few million in funds stripped from oil barons and... uh, regular barons, and every shilling will go straight to those who need it.”

Fuck. That was a much better answer than I'd expected. “Abby, please, you can't buy your way out of your crimes.”

Styx snorted. “Of course you can. The rich just get fined for most stuff. Anything else goes through so many layers of lawyers that nothing serious ever gets pinned on them. You can't buy your way out of crimes, Shadow Night, but they sure as fuck can.”

“That— That's not right! They're innocent, and you're evil!”

For the first time, something actually seemed to wrinkle her unflappable resolve. I winced as she pushed down, straining my bones against their sockets. “And what is 'evil', Night Huntress? Is it those with power deciding that those without deserve to suffer for it? Is it those who have exploiting those who have not because they can make sure their alternative is death? Oh, was it evil when your last job fired you for being late just three days after you came out? Oh yes, Grace, I looked you up. Do you even know how cheap exclusive rights to your personal data was?”

She leaned forward, growling into my ear. “Was it evil, what was done to you? Or am I the evil one because I look at that and I say no more? Because I look at the way the many are hurt by the few and side with the former? Because every one of us gets forced into these choices every day and I'm the one who refuses? I don't just mean powers. I didn't even need to look up your history to clock you, Grace, shapeshifting is as trans as you can get.”

“Great work on that, by the way,” Abby added.

“I suspect you've got some neurodivergence up in there too, right? You drift off a lot for a kitten. By the time you embodied you were already on the losing side of a war you didn't even know was being fought.”

“And you deserve better,” Abigail insisted. “It isn't fair what was done to you. You don't just have to accept it, Sphynx.”

I gulped, suddenly feeling quite naked, both literally as well as metaphorically. “Personal details are meant to be off limits,” I whimpered. It was a crime on the same level as protesting or homelessness. Don't touch a superhero's civilian life.

“Why?” Styx asked, running that cold metal down my back. “It just isolates us from each other. I could call you Night Huntress—”

“Shadow,” Abby corrected.

“Apologies. I could call you Night Shadow, and then you're an enemy. We punch each other.” She reached forward and patted me on the cheek. “I win, obviously. Let's do something more constructive instead. Call me Claire. I'm a person, just like— Well. Let's not go that far.”

I couldn't escape her grip, but I could snap at her hand as she brought it close. I missed, unfortunately.

“Kitten!” Abby snapped. “No biting.”

I bared my teeth, but, fuck. It wasn't like Styx was going to give me another chance anyway. I acquiesced.

“See, I can't just let you go, can I?”

My blood ran cold. Here it was. After all the moralising, the supervillain showed through. “That's one hell of an evil thing to say.”

“True.” Styx laughed. “They'd execute me on the spot if they caught up to me anyway, so I may as well indulge a little, right? I need you out of my way. I need Grace Sharp gone. Do you know why?”

“Fuck you. You won't get away with this. There's tracking on the app, and—” Fuck. I hadn't actually brought my phone. Cats didn't have pockets. “Uh.”

“That's okay, we sent somebody over to collect your stuff while I was cleaning you up,” Abby told me. They fucking what? “I'm so sorry you had to live like that. I promise you don't have to any more.”

“I—” I spluttered. “Hang on, what makes you think that you can just do this to me?”

“Because you're a danger, Grace,” Styx insisted, pushing me down further. I could barely even move my head. “To others. To yourself. I've got your records. Do you know how many people you've put into the hospital? Do you know how many people you've killed?”

I couldn't see Styx's expression, but I could see Abigail's. She glanced away from me, looking down. Her disappointment stung. “That's not my fault,” I complained. “If they didn't fight, I wouldn't have to stop them.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Abby agreed, speaking softly while staring at the wall. “What else were you going to do? If you hadn't stopped them, your heroic stipend would have gotten cut off. Nobody would give a sanctioned, trans, miracle a regular job. You'd have starved on the street, or been forced to turn to crime yourself.”

I wished I could move enough to look away. She wasn't wrong, I just wasn't used to it being put so bluntly. It wasn't my fault, because if I hadn't done it I'd have ended up no better off than my prey. Eventually, I replied. “Yeah. It's just human nature. If it wasn't me doing it to them, it'd be somebody else doing it to me, so I may as well do whatever keeps me fed. I can be more gentle than whoever would replace me.”

“I'm sure that line went over great with the other bootlickers,” Styx grunted, twisting my arm a little further. I cried out, kicking at nothing in a frustrated, frustrating expression of my own helplessness. “But I don't give a shit. You're hurting my community, and you're done. I'd say I was going to give you two options, but I don't think you do well with options, do you?”

“Fuck you, you self-entitled bitch. You think you can change the world? Fuck you. You can't change human nature. Nobody can.”

“Yeah, thought you'd say that. Anyway, you either join up, becoming an equal partner, full rights once you're passed probation, or you don't. You'd have to pull your weight, and we'd expect you to put some real effort in just like the rest of us. Fair warning, that's also basically an invite to our polycule, but Abby's taken a shine to you, so. You'd do fine.”

“I said fuck you.” I glanced towards Abigail. A shine? What did that mean? I couldn't bring myself to swear at her too. She'd been nothing but nice to me.

Styx sighed. “Yeah, okay, it was worth a try.” She brought the small metal object down against the dangly bit of my ear. “Never got your ears pierced?” she asked. “Makes sense, I guess, it probably gets in the way of the changing, right? I don't really care about that.”

She pulled some kind of trigger and I winced, feeling a sharp pain lance through my ear. I could have fixed it with a thought, but before I got the chance a thin piece of metal was pushed through the hole. I winced, feeling it tugging against damaged skin as Claire screwed on the clutch.

The fight left my body. Even after Claire released me I could do nothing more than push myself up to my feet. “What did you just do?” I demanded, glaring up at her, trying to will myself to attack. I tore claws from my fists and tried to raise my hand to use them, but she just took my hand in hers and lowered it back down to my waist.

Her other hand took my chin, holding it in a rough grip. I didn't know why I let her. She grinned down. “That one's not for me to explain, Sphynx, I have important business to attend to. Abby, dear, you said you wanted to take this one?”

“With pleasure,” Abigail purred, finally standing from her seat. She snapped her fingers, pointed at the floor in front of her feet. Tapped one foot, impatient. “Sphynx, sit.”

Her voice was sharp, dancing at the edge of disapproval without quite cutting in. She stared with a singular weight of expectation that was almost crushing. Fuck. I was so fucked. Styx had done something to me and I couldn't figure out what.

Abby would help me, right? She liked me. She'd taken a shine to me. She'd been nice to me all day, that had to mean something, didn't it? I crumpled, falling to my knees at her feet. In a moment, her hands were playing across my scalp, rubbing where ears would once have been. “Abby, please,” I begged. “I don't know what she did. I'm scared, can you help me?”

Abby pressed a palm against my lips and shushed. “Styx there is harmless. She could have been a superhero,” she explained, gesturing after the departing supervillain. “She's got nice clean powers, easily applied to your line of work. Me, on the other hand? Never had that luxury.” She drew a finger beneath my chin, tilting my face up to meet her gaze. A thumb rubbed over my lower lip, demanding. Possessive. “I restrict. I deny. I take.”

Her thumb slipped inside. I let it. She was explaining to me something horrifying. I'd thought that Styx was the threat, but I was helplessly under her power. Maybe I had been ever since she found me? It would explain a lot. I'd never stood a chance. I was just going to be her toy, and I could do nothing about it.

Fuck, why couldn't I hate that?

“I know what you're thinking. Not because of my power,” she insisted, “I've just spent a lot of long nights hating myself. I can see all the fears in your head because they've been in mine. It's not like that. It's not an easy power. It's not mind control. I need to get something inside of you. A thumb will do—” She grinned a wry grin, though did seem to be enjoying my tongue's worship. When had that started?— “but what I've found works best is a piercing.”

She tapped the new stud nestled securely in my ear. “I'd say it was a shame for you that you had to wait until now to really feel my control, but you were such a good girl for me all day long, Sphynx. I don't think you're going to need a heavy touch, are you? You were eager. I think you're going to enjoy this very much.”

I stared up, eyes wide, trying to find it in me to argue. I wasn't eager, I was just... I just needed it so badly.

Wait, fuck, that was being eager. I wasn't. I wasn't desperate for the affection of a bloody communist supervillain, I wasn't, I— I was. Fuck but I was. I'd been such a good girl for her, and I'd had excuses, but what if that was all they were?

While I tried to come up with a response, her eyes roamed over my body while her free hand stroked down my hair, holding me in place while I suckled gently on her thumb. Should I stop doing that? I... didn't want to.

She shrugged, giving up on my response. “Either way, you can't fight me. That new piercing of yours ensures it. No fighting. No resisting. Not even any disagreement, if I got the incantations right. Maybe I'll take it out sometimes once you earn my trust, but for now, you couldn't bite down even if you wanted to. Could you, kitten?”

She pressed her thumb deeper, pinning my tongue to the floor of my mouth, and waited. Giving me the opportunity to fight. All I'd need to do was lean backwards. I had no reason to believe she was anything but a baseline human physically. I could tear her in half. I should.

Instead, I found myself staring up at her with wide, open eyes. I raised my hand, in large part just to prove to myself that I could move at all. I grabbed her hand, but I couldn't pull. I couldn't even squeeze. I just held on. After long moments of silence, I was forced to admit the truth. I couldn't bite down even if I wanted to, and I couldn't bring myself to want to.

“There's a good girl. There's my good girl. I've always wanted a pet cat,” she admitted, grin turning a little sheepish. “My parents wouldn't let me have one, and even when I moved out I never met the right cat. Then I saw you, you sweet little rescue.”

“I'm not...” I trailed off, words dying in my throat. Right. No disagreement. “I don't feel very sweet,” I admitted.

“Of course not,” she soothed, slipping her thumb out of my mouth. She took a moment to wipe it dry on my cheek before taking my head in two hands and holding it still. “You were a monster, Sphynx. You hurt people. People who didn't deserve it. All to defend a status quo that hurts everyone, even you. Tell me I'm right.”

If she was telling the truth about her power—and I had no reason to distrust Abby—then she had no way to compel anything from me. 'No disagreement' didn't mean 'agreement'.

What if she was right, though? I couldn't accept that. It would mean that everything I'd been doing for years was all for nothing. Worse than nothing! I'd been actively harmful, I'd done damage! I'd made the world a worse place, and for what? A chance at the approval of people who didn't care about people like me? A chance to appease faceless, inhuman systems that hid accountability behind so many layers of paperwork that every single person involved in them would claim they were just following policy, and nobody actually made the decisions that hurt her?

“I'm a monster,” I whispered. “What have I done? How many people have I hurt?”

Her smile widened, twisting into a soft smirk. “Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, kitten. Let's focus on the things you can control.” She tapped a point on the top of my skull and gently pulled up on my pierced ear. “Be a good girl and let me reshape you.”

I winced, feeling a pain as my fresh hole chafed. “I, I can't really do that,” I admitted. It wasn't disagreement if I literally couldn't. “I can't– I need to understand how something works to change into it.”

Abigail tutted, and yanked on my ear with a little more enthusiasm. To my surprise, it moved. “Silly little kitty, thinks she can tell me how my own pet's power works. You don't need to understand, do you, sweetie? It's enough that I know what I want. Say it.”

I gulped. Her fingers danced over my flesh, kneading a human ear up into a sharp triangular point. I could feel it happening. I could feel the familiar tingle of my own power, but I wasn't in control. It was dancing to her tune now. Why? How?

“I... don't need to understand,” I replied, realising the layers of meaning as I spoke them. It wasn't my place to know things. She wanted a pet, not a partner. My power, apparently reacting to my sudden imposed change in worldview, flipped on its head. I no longer needed to understand the change. Abigal understood, and she was reshaping me. “It's enough that you know what you want.”

Fuck. I was so fucked. I whimpered, feeling the pleasure of being stroked and petted right down to the bone as she worked my flesh for her own pleasure. I moaned helplessly as she pulled a thin covering of fur out of my skin, and I shivered in unstoppable bliss as she rewired my senses and gifted me a cat's hearing. The world was so much more alive. Abby was so much more alive. I could hear her every breath. I could hear the excitement she was barely holding back.

Fuck. I was so fucked.

“Yeah, there's my good kitty. Come, up onto my lap.” She spoke as if she expected immediate compliance. I... fuck. I'd trusted her. I'd trusted that she would keep me safe, and yet the moment she had me in her clutches she revealed herself to be the worst of them all. Even Styx hadn't dared violate my body like this.

I crawled onto her lap because... of course I did. I couldn't resist. I couldn't disagree. I was hers. I couldn't stop that, no matter how much I might want to. Sitting on her lap, I almost towered over her. She pulled a face, put a hand atop my head, and gently pushed down until we were on a more even level.

No, that was wishful thinking. Until I was shorter. She plucked whiskers from my cheeks and squeezed my irises inwards, giving me characteristic feline diamonds. A kiss on the tip of every finger stole away my claws, and as she held my hands I felt them changing, shifting closer to padded paws. I wouldn't be opening any doors by myself for a while.

None of that compared to the main event. With a slightly embarrassed, indulgent cackle, Abby reached down to my butt and gave it a short, sharp spank. I cried out, as much in surprise as shame. What was she—

Ohhhhh. I groaned, leaning forward into her as she grabbed the tip of my tail and began to pull. Every inch was painstakingly drawn from the base of my spine, and every inch was felt. It was bliss. It was wonder. It was agony. I shook with the pressure of it, clinging to her while she filled my ears with soothing sounds.

“Yes, that's right. That's right. You're doing so well. Just a little more, now, you can do it. Say it.”

“I— I can do it,” I gasped, “I can do it.”

I could do it. I could feel my body changing, matching her expectations, her desires, her knowledge. As always, my power filled in the gaps. I'd never noticed how much it did so before. I suppose it had always been doing it with my subconscious expectations. This time, it was hers.

I could feel subtle shifts in distribution of fat that nobody would ever think to make, all barely noticable, but together conspiring to change my body, my face, everything. I felt my own perception of colour shifting. Huh. Had my colour blindness never been recorded anywhere? Abby hadn't known that. It was gone now. My muscles slackened, weakening me because Abby, on some level, figured that I should be weak. I softened, everywhere, losing my callouses and my scars.

I was hers, down to the bone, my power conspiring with hers to make me fit her preferences like a glove.

As the pain began to fade, she smiled down at me with the same kind smile she'd always shown. Fuck. I needed to find a way to fight her soon or I'd. I— Ow! “And a second sweet little stud,” she cooed, slipping another bar of metal through the hole in my other ear that of course she thought I should have, “to take away all that hate. All that anger. All those...” She ran a hand through my hair and I melted into her, whimpering gently. “Negative little feelings, sad little thoughts. You weren't happy, Sphynx, but I'll have you happy. You're going to be a good girl for me now, aren't you?”

I... They'd kidnapped me. They'd literally kidnapped me. They'd threatened my life and... fuck, but Abby smelled so good, and she was so warm, and I'd felt so good all day long with her. Yet I knew that she'd done this to me. I had to fight this, but...

Did I, though?

Another fingersnap caught my attention and pulled my gaze up to another expectant look. In her hand was another chunk of something delicious. I leaned forward on learned instincts, hoping to eat it out of her palm, but she pulled back. “Uh-uh, kitty. Say it, first.”

“I— I'm going to be your good girl,” I admitted. I couldn't resist. I couldn't disagree. I expected to feel a rush of shame, hate, anxiety. I was surrendering to her. She was a supervillain!

Yet, those were negative emotions. Abby had taken all those away.

All I felt was relief and elation. She'd been so nice to me, and she was going to keep being this nice to me? I sniffed, hard, tears rolling down my cheeks, and darted forward for a hug. I could escape her grip, I found. If I wasn't trying to fight her, the first piercing did nothing to stop me.

She stiffened up, taking half a step back before resting a hand on the back of my head. “Kitten? Are you okay? Oh, dear, I've not done an emotional binding this broad before, is it not working? Or did I mess with your body wrong? I don't really know how to use your power.”

I shook my head hard, then buried myself deeper into her. “It's working. I'm— Thank you. I know you've done this to me. I know I— I know I disagreed with everything you wanted a few minutes ago. I don't care. Please. Please let me be your good girl. I promise I'll be good. Please don't make me go back to how I was. Please keep me. I'm yours.”

Fuck, the anxiety at everything. The dread felt in every waking moment. The pain of just fucking existing. All gone. Not replaced by anything, not yet. Just taken away. Abby lightened my load and I finally felt as if I had room for more in my life than pain and strife.

“I, um,” Abby replied. “This isn't— I thought you'd try to fight me more than this. Maybe I took away too much, I don't want you to feel incomplete.”

I shook my head. “You were nice to me. Fed me when I was hungry. Let me sleep when I was tired. I trust you. And— And— That's—” I felt my strength of will returning to me. It was still there, I just needed to point it in a different direction. “You're wrong. Your power might just take away, but you give. You didn't have to take care of me. You did it just because it was right. I think I love you? I mean, I... can't think anything negative about you, so, I guess love must be right? The... simple fucking love of a dumb animal, maybe, but I love you. I love you, Abigail.”

Abigail grinned down at me, gently fingering the newest metal bar oh-so-securely piercing my body. “You do, huh? Tell me you'd do anything for me, kitten.”

“I'd do anything for you.”

“Tell me you'll turn to evil~” she cooed, steepling her fingers.

“I'll turn to evil. For you.”

“Tell me you'll, um...”

“Help you achieve your goals and be the best you that you can be? Be your Sphynx, whatever you want that to mean? Fight as hard as you let me to help you shine? Of course I will,” I insisted. All I'd had was my fear and my hate driving me. With those gone, I had no fire of my own left. I needed to borrow hers. I'd always been strong willed, and Abby hadn't taken that away. Not yet, anyway. It was her choice. Maybe I could prove it was worth letting me keep it. Serving and pleasing... “Uhm, what may I call you?”

She let out a happy little sigh, planting a fingernail behind my new ear and scratching. I melted into her, listening intently. My power couldn't help make her words reshape my mind, but I thought I could handle that one on my own. “Well, Sphynx, my enemies know me as Echidna, mother of monsters.” She paused, for dramatic effect, and to scritch her pet monster under the chin. “You, on the other hand? Let's go with Mistress for now. I'm still learning exactly what I'm into, but I just know you'll love helping me explore, pet.”

Serving and pleasing Mistress it was, then.

“Yes, Mistress!”