I sit down next to my brother with a cup of sacred water in my hand, spitting out a mouthful of blood welling up behind my teeth as I do. I managed to eat dirt a few times, so at least I'm able to clean out some of the grit stuck in my broken teeth.

"So," I cough. Shit, the little fucker hit me hard in the ribs a few times. "Nateos wants us to become gods."

Thelios slants me a look of pure disbelief from his one open eye. "He said-"

"That his daughter deserves a god. Which we," I take a gulp of sacred water and swish and spit, "are not. Not yet."

When Thelios talks his speech is slurred through his broken jaw. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't just wake up and become a god, right?"

"You do not," I agree. I hand him my cup and take out the blade that 'killed' me. The mouth of the pit viper was open before Mara struck it into my back. Now, the snake's mouth is closed tight.

"But, we can find a way to become gods. You said there was a library."

I expect Thelios to protest immediately. Or, if not right away, to think about it and tell me that it's a crazy idea.

Instead, he says, "I remember... a story of the arena. If you fight a god and win, then you can claim power as a boon. We need to take power from a god. Otherwise, it must be gifted to you." He looks into the cup pensively.

"So we fight in this arena and can win our place in the pantheon of gods?"

He shakes his head. "I can't remember," he says, frustrated. "I was never good at studying," he says hoarsely.

"I am," I say bitterly, "and you are the one that grandfather tossed away so easily to die. If it had been me I would remember."

"And I wouldn't have killed Mara!" he snarls.

I hold up a hand, "I'm not trying to insult you, Lios. I'm just saying, if our positions were reversed..."

I rub my hand over my face. Thelios... he is identical to me. We are the same height, the same weight. Our eyes are perfect copies of each other. Our tattoos are different, true. And he no longer has wings, but other than that we look as if we were carved from the same stone.

And he is so different from me. If I had been sent to the Underworld, I would have remembered all of the tomes I studied. If he had been in the above, he wouldn't have harmed Mara. I believe him. I've seen the way he stares at her. Everything else falls away for Thelios while with me... I am always plotting, thinking. She envelopes all my thoughts, always there, but she's not all that's there.

"Lios..." he murmurs. "The Mother showed me a vision of what our lives would have been like, had I lived. We were friends. You called me 'Lios' in that vision," he says quietly.

"We are brothers, dumbass," I say casually.

"We both had wings. And we saw Mara. She was a cute little thing," he doesn't rile up to my insult.

"All elbows and knees, with her hair always a mess," I tell him, remembering the sweet female I met over two years ago.

"How could you kill that beautiful creature?" Thelios whispers.

I look at the dagger. "She betrayed me, so I was told. The pain of that was so awful. I was protecting my heart, I suppose."

"You are an idiot," he says blandly.

I shrug.

"What god would it be?" he changes the subject back to our new quest to become gods.

"Urto," I reply easily. "He is the youngest and the most isolated. And War... it just feels right."

Thelios takes a large swallow of from his cup. His jaw has healed enough. "I fought the War god once, when I was younger. It did not go well. I was winning, actually, but he used hellfire to burn my eyes. I couldn't see for weeks. How will you stop him?"

"I won't be the one to stop him." The words are pulled from my chest reluctantly.

"So, you are willing to allow me to have Mara?" he asks, unsure.

My grip tightens on the blade in my hand. "It is her choice," I remind him hoarsely. "But my suggestion would be for us to both fight Urto, at the same time."

"Two on one?" he says, affronted.

"Problem?" I ask him.

"Both of us, together?" he asks.

"Yes."

He's silent for a long heartbeat. "If it wins me-us Mara, then I agree." He passes the cup to me.

"So be it."

We both drink. Blood is dripping slower and slower as our wounds heal. Skin stitches together and the pain from our endless battles slowly fades.

"How the fuck do we leave the pit?" he asks me suddenly.

I snort. "I don't fucking know."

He pauses, "you're a shitty big brother."

"I know."

I am sweating by the time I have disrobed both Recondite corpses. No one ever tells you just how heavy a dead warrior is, but I had to cut off most of their clothing. Even with my gargoyles tugging and pulling and ripping, it took too much time and effort to strip them down.

I need sacred water and the only source I can think of is Belen's tomb. His brethren had carried buckets here themselves, just weeks ago. It will still be fresh... mostly.

It takes all five gargoyles and myself to heave the stone slab off of Belen's cairn. As it is, we can only move the lid of the sarcophagus until the stone slides together, forming a sort-of triangular opening over his head. The large cat is still immersed in the liquid of the dead. A good thing, because it suffocates the stench of rotting death that would otherwise be revealed when opening his tomb.

My limbs are shaking from fatigue as I hurry to gather up all of the jugs and cups left behind by my Postites.

Biting my lip, I hurry to take out as much water as I can from Belen's tomb with jugs and cups. The gargoyles and I form a fire-line from Belen's cairn to the dead Recondites. Harku is the last, his face fixed in careful concentration as he soaks the Recondites in the sacred liquid.

I try to not look at Thelios' friend, my friend. The reality of death is that bits and pieces of Belen's form will be dissolved away, revealing a corpse that will appear half-eaten.

I may be death's daughter, but when the water is nearly gone and every cupful has parts of Belen floating in it, I have to pause from the nausea that rolls over me. It is beyond disgusting.

Harku has given up his job to Alnue and has started to pick out fur and flesh from Belen off of the Recondites. Gathering it all up in his arms, he carries it back to Belen and starts to piece the cat back together.

I don't even know what to say about my little beastie. His cleanliness may be a problem...

When the water is used up, the Recondites lay in puddles on top of the slab. I can only hope that it is enough to imitate the healing effects of the sacred pool. The last thing I want is to bring souls back into bodies that are still fatally wounded.

"Right, well, should I just... do this?" I ask Momo.

I'm not sure why I asked Momo. He just shrugs and pokes one of the males' flaccid penis again.

I nod and try to mentally prepare. I have no idea what will happen when I do this and losing more blood will make me even weaker.

But this has to happen, now. Before Inanji and Urto come knocking at the mausoleum doors with their plans to lock my soul away forever.

"Alright," I encourage myself out loud, "I can do this. It can't be too difficult.

I close my eyes and try to focus on my own sorrow and grief. A close companion, it's silky dark shadow hugs me closer than a lover. Grief breathes when I do, moves with me, beats steadily with my heart.

I pour that energy into the fallen warriors. Grief stutters, hovering, then slowly absorbs through the sacred liquid, wicking away bit by bit until the water is saturated with dark power.

Opening my eyes, I see the bonds stretching faintly from the corpses of the Recondites. I smile. They are healed. Flesh is flesh, and this flesh can be lived in again.

I approach slowly, seeing the ribbons twisting and curling from them. There is one... a soft blue-white that gently unfurls from one male and into another. They were good friends. They were grieving for each other, as they lay next to one another dying. Grief has strengthened their bond of love.

I touch that one first. Let them have each other. They may need to support one another forever if this works.

The ribbon glows fire-hot, before fading into the dark red that marks bonds of grief. My bonds.

I find another coming from one of the males. Silver, thick, and vibrating with lustful need. Love's bond. But with who?

Should I leave it intact? I will be destroying the bond of some other nameless, faceless shifter if I severe this one.

I am gnawing on my lip, now. I can't leave it intact. With a heavy heart, I snip it with a knife Alnue found for me.

It snaps like a whip, but I know now to duck out of the way. The Recondite's body bows outward under the force of the bond breaking and I hold my breath, waiting for the outcry of some unknown shifter.

Nothing.

I breathe a little easier.

Finally, I take a strip of my own robes, soaked in the sacred water, and tie the string to the warrior's right hand, then my own. I do the same with the other Recondite, tying him to my left. Then I run my opposite hands along the strings.

At first, nothing happens. Then, the gargoyles all start to chatter and gasp as the strings turn bright red. Like snakes or worms, they begin to wiggle and squirm their way into the Recondites' inert bodies.

I watch the strings, now bonds, snake through their bodies. Much like with Enlil, black lines appear, red at the outer edges, before fading back into their skin.

A slight pang of discomfort draws my attention down, to my own wrists.

The scars, the only ones that my father left on my body, glow brightly, though I feel no real pain. The ragged, broken edges of skin that healed into thick, white scars two years ago disappear, replaced with what looks like a thick, red tattoo of a simple line.

I touch my left fingers to the tattoo on my right wrist in awe. It's beautiful.

Momo coos, his ears waggling as he peers so closely at my new ink that his nose nearly touches my skin.

When I'm finally done admiring my wrists, and I admit it takes a while, I step up to the Recondites, ready for the final step. I hope this works. Otherwise, I just bonded to two warriors in the Underworld.

With a deep breath, I cut along the new red tattoo on my left wrist, nicking my skin just enough for a few drops of blood to well up. I place my wrist on the mouth of the warrior who is attached to my left. Then I repeat the same with the right.

Now, to wait.

I have no idea how long it would take. Are a few drops of blood even enough? Tafia stole an entire vial of blood and clearly, didn't use it on these males or they would have-

Double snarls, suddenly come screaming out of the males' mouths. It's so loud and sudden that I let out a cry of my own and fly to the opposite end of the mausoleum.

Reanimation comes quickly to these warriors. Muscles seize and clench, their bodies jerking to and fro. One of them falls off of the stone slab from the violent, involuntary movements. He hits the ground with a heavy thud and keeps twitching.

I'm just glad that they are mostly silent. Their growls fill the air, but they aren't screaming.

When they finally fall still, I creep closer to them. Their eyes are open, tracking my movements.

"Are you alright?" I ask like an idiot.

They both climb to their feet, helping each other stand. Only to kneel at my feet.

"Um... what are your names?"

They stare up at me silently.

I bite my lip again. Intelligence shines in their eyes, but nothing else. They are not speaking and my gods, I couldn't shut Enlil up, could I?

Did I break them?

"Do you have names?" I ask. Nothing. I have no time to guess their proper names, so I just decide to call them by their orientation to my own tattoos. "Alright, you are Rasted, the right hand, and Gired, the left."

Rasted and Gired

Your Assassins

"Assassins!" I exclaim in the quiet interior of the mausoleum. "I have assassins?" I question my father.

Both Rasted and Gired are smiling at me. Not full smiles, with teeth showing and cheeks stretching, but small quirks of approval. Now I feel a little bad that their names are 'right' and 'left.'

"Well, assassins," I sigh. "You have something to do for me."

They regard me calmly, patiently, just waiting. It makes me wonder, who are they? "Father, did the souls of the Recondites return or did I drag other creatures into their bodies?"

Goblins of the Underworld

Shadows and Invisibility are their speciality

They volunteered

He tells me nonchalantly.

"Goblins?" I whisper. "I didn't know we had goblins!" I take a breath and think about it, "what are goblins?"

Both my assassins look uncomfortable all of the sudden.

They wish to remain your assassins

"Oh! Of course you are my assassins!" I suppose I can solve the mystery of goblins later... after I die.

"Right, well, your first duty to me," I say. I bite my lip again.

Stop biting your lip daughter

You will hurt yourself

I roll my eyes, but stop chewing on myself. I am hungry and he is worried about a little bit of flesh on my starving body. Flesh is flesh, father, I say silently.

Mishu pokes me and I realize that I dazed off instead of telling my assassins what I need from them.

"Go to the First House. Can you do that?" I ask them.

I get two nods.

"Good. Go to the First District," I amend. "And make certain that they are trapped in the city. Can you... does that make sense?"

They still don't speak, but both rise, and bow to me in unison.

Then, they turn and leap from the toilet window, disappearing into the night. I feel a tug on both my wrists as they get farther and farther away from me. The blackened red bonds stretch, but they are still strong.

"Byyyyye?" I turn to see Harku, holding up the discarded rags from the new assassins.

"They were fully nude," I observe.

He nods with a shrug.

"Alright, help me close Belen's cairn and we need to arrange 'bodies' of my two assassins," I tell the gargoyles softly.

I can't help but scream when I turn around. Sitting on top of Belen's cairn is a dark cat, five times the size of one of my gargoyles. Gasping, I stumble backward, until I realize that the cat is just sitting there, calm and placid.

I look to the left of the cat. Alnue is sitting, curled inward, ears laid flat against his head. In his hands is the blood-soaked rag I used to obtain Enlil's loyalty.

"Belen?" I ask softly.

The cat blinks at me solemnly. "Alnue! No! You can't just bring them all back to life!"

He shakes his head, hands held out to his sides. I march over to the cairn and peer inside, ignoring the cat who is just next to me. I can feel warmth, the animal breathing on me. Inside the cairn is dry and empty as if it wasn't filled just moments ago.

"Belen? Can you shift back?" I ask him. I feel panicked and overwhelmed and I just want to speak to another voice that isn't strangled by stone tongues or the echo of a god from the Underworld.

The cat huffs and leaps gracefully from the stone slab to the floor, then struts over to a heap of blankets and lies down.

"Kiiitttyyy," Mushu croons at the cat.

I see it then. Belen had so many bonds, friendships and love pouring from the gregarious male. The cat has one, a red strand, circling his neck and leading to me, like a leash.

"You are just his cat," I tell the shade of the animal dumbly. Belen's soul isn't there. The cat purrs, closing its eyes and kneading the blankets, ignoring me entirely. Just like an overgrown housecat.

I spend the rest of the night making shrouded "corpses" out of blankets and the remnants of the assassins clothing. Harku helps me, of course.

But, when I try to close Belen's coffin, I can't. It's stuck open.