Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The demon killer did not have a chance to move as an angel came crashing from the skies. 

Jisung cursed as blood spurted from the dying man before him, winced as the last few gurgling cries left his throat and then ceased completely. The angel’s wings were broken, jagged in all the wrong directions and already adhering to the concrete like glue to paper. The thing lay dead-unmoving as its lifeblood slithered out of its body, painting the ground a coppery red. 

Beside him, Jisung felt Hyunjin shift; an arm coming to wrap around his shoulders and pull him back. The blood had gotten on his shoes, it was warm as it soaked into the fabric of his laces. 

“He almost fell on you.” Hyunjin muttered, the Stringbearer looking up at the sky as if searching for any other falling beasts. 

Jisung shrugged out of his hold, his hands coming up to rub his arms. “I’m fine,” he breathed. Hyunjin huffed, golden eyes rolling. “You almost weren't. He could have flattened you.”  He poked Jisung with a finger. “You’re lucky I was with you, my poor mortal friend.” 

Jisung only scoffed, pushing Hyunjin away. “Arrogant Fate bastard.” 

Hyunjin only laughed, golden eyes gleaming and that long silver hair falling into his face. “You love my arrogance.” 

And that Jisung did, as he loved most of Hyunjin’s kin dwelling in the House of the Destined. Not familial kin but kin in a tether sort of way. The house was home to many different kinds of Fates, Stringbears like Hyunjin who as their people claimed; held the strings of life and death themselves and had the power of ending and lengthening and restarting such things. The Heartbearers, fates who held the tether of love itself and could glimpse into the hearts of those who sought an endless love. A skill that many of the oracle or vision blessed witches claimed for themselves. A lie and trick that only desperate money grabbers would claim. The witches could conjure love potions, glimpse into the future and see, but only the Heartbearers could truly access that part of the heart that called to another. Only they could delve deep into the soul and find that tether to another being, a soulbond that could not be extinguished. 

And then there were the Destined themselves. While the Destined had the power to begin, end and restart life like the Stringbearers, they had been given more from the Gods. Not just the power of life and living and giving. The Destined held the magic of all gifts, of all knowledge. They were not Gods, not truly. The Fates were immortal, put upon this world to lead and guide their charges through life and whatever was after life. 

Hyunjin had been assigned to him only two years ago. Their initial meeting was not as gleeful as one would hope, seeing as Jisung had thrown a knife at the Stringbearer only five minutes after meeting. The blade had scratched Hyunjin’s shoulder and embedded itself into the wall of Jisung’s kitchen, the wallpaper still bearing the scar as did Hyunjin. 

But somehow, after weeks of Hyunjin following him around like a dog, Jisung had started warming to him. And it was only after a slight brush with death, Jisung coming so damningly close that he’d finally accepted Hyunjin as fate. 

A beat of wings had Jisung glancing to the sky. Endless obsidian clouded the sky, bat-like wings flapping through the sky as five Rythani troopers circled then dropped to the ground. Their black leather clothing fit their bodies perfectly, weapons strapped to their hips and helmets upon their heads, silver bands clasping their wrists. 

Jisung blinked. “Rythani?” 

Hyunjin pulled him closer, his own brows rose. “I suppose someone put in a clean up order.” he spoke but still took a step back. 

The Rythani were nothing more than slaves. Beings that bordered on being considered Demon born, but had apparently been blessed by a long forgotten Goddess that once ruled these lands. But regardless, that hadn’t stopped the Yitan court from declaring them slaves or the neighboring lands either. 

The Rythani, if Jisung remembered correctly from his Demon 101 classes, held their own power. Shadow wielding, the curse of mind infiltration. The silver bands at their wrists dampened whatever connection linked a Rythani to their power, not enough to sever it completely but enough to make them too sick to use it. A shackle that the witches had concocted long ago during an ancient war. The shackles themselves could be used on any magic wielding being, but these binds had been crafted especially for the Rythani. 

And Jisung? Even with his mortal eyes could see the sleek engraving of Fae tongue living beneath the bands. A mix of witch blood and Fae knowledge to lock down a demon soul. The Fae were long gone and dead though, at least on this continent. 

War had raged on the continent 400 years ago, the Fae royals that ruled within the southern border between Noura, Witchland territory and Brewn; the small territory that had been given to the humans and mortals that dwelled within Yita. Julan, the former Fae Kingdom, had gone to war with the Angels, Witches and whatever Demons had been let free to fight. The history books had never revealed why exactly the Fae had gone to war or why the rest of the continent had risen up against them, only that the Fae had lost and been ended. Not too long after that, a treaty had been signed between all the races' rulers. 

The treaty of Polm.  

Named after the capital city that now lived within Yita. Sections of the continent had been broken up, forming the countries that were formed today. Julan had been left to waste away, the territory condemned as a ruin and off limits by the court. 

Hyunjin cocked his head, watching the Rythani clean the splattered angel. “It’s a shame,” he said softly, sniffing the air. “He was sick.”

Jisung raised a brow. “What?” 

The stringbearer shrugged. “His scent, he smells like sickness. It’s deep within him, almost..” he sniffed again, recoiling. “Ugh. Whatever he had, may the Gods bless me with health.” he exhaled, rubbing at his forehead. “Let's go.” 

Hyunjin held out his hand, a slight golden light emanating from his palm. And Jisung knew, that if he grabbed that hand, it would be warm and calming. Another part of Hyunjin’s fate gifts, not power per se, but a soothing essence. 

So he took it, let Hyunjin’s fingers clasp around his and let that warmth engulf him. 

He’d been a demon killer for six years now. 

It had been all Jisung wanted to be since he was a child, since that day in his parents home. He’d been just a boy then, a small trembling useless child to prevent the carnage that would rattle their home. 

The demon had snuck in during the night, under the cover of the snowfall that had befallen that winter. And Jisung, Jisung had been asleep when it had happened-until he wasn’t. Perhaps it was a God that had lulled him to sleep that night, one of the many Dreamwalkers that their people worshipped. But regardless, he’d awoken too late, too late to save them, too late to do anything but waddle out of his room barefoot and into their living room. A child seeking the comfort of his parents after a bad dream. 

But the nightmare was sitting in his living room. 

At that age, Jisung had known what death was, had been told that sometimes, even with the Fates and the Gods, and the endless magic that thrived through this land,that life had an end. He had not expected it to be so brutal. 

Their bodies were broken. 

Not in the way that Jisung would break his dolls and snap them back together, but in a way that was impossible to fix. He’d laid eyes on his father first, his throat was gone-the remnants of what used to be leaking down his distorted body and onto the couch. He was splayed haphazardly, form slinking to the floor and drooping. 

And his mother, Gods, his mother-

She had been killed first, that much was clear. Not much of her body was left, the demon that had feasted on her had devoured most of her, only her torso and intestines left. 

He had vomited right there on the carpet. 

And then, he’d heard it. The slight rustling to his right, to the dark hallway that he’d just come from. Again, the thing moved, Jisung held his breath, his body going utterly still. He could hear it now-breathing, drooling. He could smell its stench, the rank mixing with the tang of his parents' blood. 

Dead. 

They were dead. 

A snarl raced from the darkness that sent Jisung running, running- running.

The cold bit at Jisung’s cheeks as he ran through the streets, the feet of snow slowly him. There was growling behind him, growling and snarling and rushing feet. The demon-monster was chasing him. 

Jisung darted left, then right, then left again, zigzagging, attempting to shake the beast off his trail. His little legs would only take him so far. He didn’t bother screaming for help as he passed house after house, knew that there was nothing that a human could do against a demon. He was only preventing the inevitable, his death. 

He would die, like his parents he would be slaughtered by the beast and feasted upon. The beast had his scent, knew what thrumbed beneath his skin. 

A boom echoed behind him, then an animalistic whine and a crash. 

Jisung chanced a look behind him-gone, the beast was gone as if it had never been. He whirled, searching the street, just in case the monster had repositioned itself. 

Nothing. 

Not even a whimper filled the streets. 

Chapter Text

The House of Demons rested on a hilltop adjacent to the Twinniean waterscape. Surrounded by the blue waters of the river, the House looked out of place against the beauty. Various florals crested the earth, painting the scenery with reds and pinks and white flowers. Fish swam within the clear waters, various water beings resting either in the water or along the dock. The river was home to many Nymphs, waterbound witches and even a few Kelpies, albeit, most Kelpies kept to  salt water.

 The grey and black stone building was practically a fortress, a mocking replica of the House of the Destined. Where the Fates fortress was serene and holy, the House of Demons was cold and cruel. From the coal black door knobs crafted to look like broken and torn wings of the Rythani to the iron barred windows that littered each floor. Jisung had laughed the first time he’d seen it, deeming it more of a prison than anything else. He had brought Hyunjin here only once, the Fate had trembled as he stepped foot into the cold building, deemed it an abomination to his kind and begged for Jisung to leave it. 

Jisung had refused of course and Hyunjin had left it at that. It had been six years since then, six years since Jisung had worked his way up from just mere hunter to one of the top killers within the House. 

House of Demons. 

An ironic name, Jisung supposed, considering that the building was filled with demon killers and not true demons.

Perhaps he was a demon; he loved the hunt, tracking down his prey and making them scream for a mercy that would not come. Maybe it was barbaric, but he didn’t care. That demon certainly didn’t care when it had eaten his parents and left their carcasses for him to find. 

That demon would die too. 

Yes, once Jisung found out just what kind of monster it was and tracked it down, he would give it the same treatment it had given his parents. Perhaps Jisung would skin it too and feed it to the Rythani slaves that lived within the basement of the House. It was no secret that the Rythani had a taste for flesh and blood. Goddess blessed or not, that part of their DNA was indistinguishable from true demons. The various royals and Elders and leaders throughout Yita did their best to keep the slaves' hunger at bay, keep their stomachs happy and full. Sure, the hunger could be subdued with animal blood and hearts but even then, the bloodlust could still break through. He’d once had to put down  two after their weekly supply of rabbits, goats and chickens had run out.  He hadn’t regretted  killing the beasts, but he had gone to pray at Yur’s temple an hour later. 

It was still odd for him to go to temples, odd for him to pray at all really. Especially after he’d turned his back on religion. The gods hadn’t saved his parents. But still, sometimes he would accompany Hyunjin on service days or sit alongside his friend and pray with him. He was still confused about which gods exactly he was supposed to be praying to. There were many types of gods or deities that the Fates, Witches, and mortals worshipped. The Mother, the main Goddess that the witches worshiped and her two sisters, Maiden and Crone. And then there was Luna, the blessed Mother of the Holy Light that the Witches claimed guided them back to the dark once they passed. And then there were the Fae Gods, although almost no one spoke of them. Jorlen, God of Homecomings, Yur, Goddess of Stars, Aspen Goddess of Light and Flame. The Fae had an endless list of deities that had once been served and obeyed like clockwork, that Jisung couldn’t remember them all. 

And then there was the mortal God, the God he supposed he was meant to pray to. The humans had only deity, at least that was the tale thrown around, one eternal force that his kind believed created all. Their God was nameless, only that title ‘God. Jisung had never cared to think otherwise. 

But the Fates…the Fates histories with deities was an odd one. The Fates had always existed, their kind had not been made or born like humans or the other races. From what Jisung had been taught in school, the Fates had existed since the dawn of time, weaving their threads of life and death and rebirth. That was how it had always been. They had Gods, but not. Jisung supposed it would be ridiculous to worship a deity when you practically were one. But that hadn’t stopped Hyunjin from finding religion. Albeit, the Stringbearer tended to steer towards the Fae Gods. 

The wooden double doors to the council chamber shut with a loud clang as Jisung entered. His boots scuffed on the marble floors, the knives he had seethed in his belt jingling with every step he took. He had not been summoned to the House today, but had stopped by for information. And the only man who had the information he sought was their Head. 

The Head of the Demon, the Slayer King, some would call him. And while Jisung knew that the man had earned that title,he had not once used it since the man had asked him not to. 

His Head sat at the end of the long rectangular table that filled most of the council room. Papers littered the desk, bills, assignments, client information probably. But Jisung wasn’t interested in any of that. 

He had only one thing on his mind. 

Using his foot, Jisung pulled out one of the chairs and took a seat. He placed his hands on the table in front of him, clasped tightly as he straightened his back. He stared at the blonde man sitting adjacent to him, waiting to be acknowledged. Jisung may have been one of the best Demon killers in all of the Yitan court, but he knew his place when it came to his rank within the House of Demons. 

The Head signed a few more documents, before shoving them away and placing his pen down. He gave Jisung a mischievous smile that the boy only returned. The blonde man leaned forward. “Hello Jisung,” 

“Hello Chan.”

Chan’s smile only widened as he took in Jisung’s appearance. “I see that you’re armed to the teeth today. Going hunting?” 

“Always.” Jisung purred. He pulled out one of his daggers, holding it up to the light and watching it shimmer. “Let's cut the small talk and get to business.” 

Chan raised a brow, partially in delight and partially in challenge. Jisung ignored that look and placed his knife on the table. “I seek a demon.” 

“We’ve been over this Jisung,” Chan said. “You’re not ready.”  

The demon killer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was the same conversation every time, Chan claiming that Jisung wasn’t ready, wasn’t trained well enough to survive this hunting. The killer only snorted, rolling his eyes. “You say that every time.” 

Chan didn’t smile or laugh or give any hint of amusement. “You’re not ready," he repeated.  “The demon you seek, it’s dangerous.” 

“Aren’t most?” Jisung drawled. “That’s never stopped you from sending me out on hunts before. And you of all people know what this means to me. If you know what or where this demon is-” 

“-I will not help you get yourself killed.” 

The head of Demons stared him down, hands massaging one another, knuckles cracking. He didn’t meet Jisung’s eyes,  a gesture that had Jisung raising a brow at his mentor and head. 

“Is…is this about Jeongin?” 

Chan stiffened at the name, eyes closing for only a moment. 

Jeongin.  

Chan’s brother. 

Jisung had heard the stories, heard of the tale that had befallen Bang Jeongin. Jeongin and Chan were only half brothers, with Jeongin's mother being a Fate herself. Jeongin had been born with the gifts that every Heartbearer bore, had been trained under the guise of the Elders since he was young and was preparing to pledge himself to Eternal service. 

And then it happened.

A demon had appeared right on the Destined steps before Jeongin before disappearing with the Heartbearer. 

Chan had been there, watched as the demon stole his brother and ushered him off to the Gods knew where. He had been searching for the demon and for the brother who was no doubt dead for 2 years now. 

They were mirrors in that sense, both hunting for monsters that had torn their families apart. But Jisung would not let his prey be loose any longer. He would find this monster that had killed and eaten his parents and make it beg for mercy. 

He straightened in his chair, staring down his mentor. “Do you know what type of demon it is?” 

Chan opened his eyes, letting out a breath. “A Hyx,” Chan whispered. 

“Shape shifter?” Jisung said with actual surprise in his tone. He’d known most demons were blood thirsty but the Shifter race were lower leveled demons, practically considered  food to everyone above them. 

Chan shook his head. “ This demon, this Hyx is so much more than just a mere shifter Jisung.” He opened his mouth to say more but stopped himself. “I can't help you.” 

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

"It's not what I'm not telling you, it’s what I can't tell you.” 

“Chan-” 

“-talk to Hyunjin.” 

Jisung blinked at those words. “What?” He looked the man over, then at the all too quiet room. “What does Hyunjin have to do with this?” 

“Hyunjin,”  Chan spat. “Knows all too well about the monsters we’re hunting.”

 Jisung shook, confusion and rage fighting within him. “What does that mean?” 

The Head of Demons sighed. “Hyunjin has been hunting for the demon that killed your parents for five years now.” 

Jisung blinked, then shook his head. “No, no, Hyunjin doesn’t hunt demons, his Elders wouldn’t allow a Stringbearer to put themself in danger like that. Besides, Hyunjin would have told me if he had information about this demon. He’s my best friend.” 

“Your best friend is a Fate and a liar, Jisung.” Chan spat. “That is the issue with you Jisung, you constantly forget that you live in a world of immortals and monsters. And I don’t mean the demons. These Fates ,” he sneered the word as if it were a curse. “These Mystical creatures and Witches and Fae have been alive for Eons, some have even walked with the Gods they now worship. They play games, Jisung. Long, drawn out games that we get stuck in the middle of. And these beings do not care if we humans survive it.” 

“What does this have to do with Hyunjin?” Jisung asked. He was still trembling, his body and mind on the verge of giving up . He needed answers, needed to find Hyunjin and hear it from his own mouth. 

“ Leave it,”  Chan begged, voice cracking a fraction, a sound that Jisung had never heard the male make. His eyes were still and empty. Jisung’s own eyes slid across Chan’s features, the scars that rattled his face and hands, the callouses and that unhealed bruises that  lived on his body. 

A fighter, that’s what Chan was, had always been. 

The man had clawed his way to the top of the mortal pyramid and become a King of Killers. Jisung recognized that anger and hatred and the look of aching revenge on the man’s face. Because the same look reflected in his own face. 

No, Jisung would not leave it as Chan had commanded him. He would not leave his parents murder in the hands of his best friend. He would find Hyunjin, give him hell for lying to him, and then they would hunt this bastard together. 

And Jisung would kill him once and for all. 

He had been born to die. 

Hyunjin had known his fate since the day his mother had bore him to the world.  As would be all Stringbearers destinies. And although he had the ability to manipulate life and death, he was not sure if he truly believed in reincarnation. He had never seen it done before , only heard whispers and even then rumor claimed that only the Destined had successfully orchestrated a rebirthing. 

In Hyunjin’s seventy years of living, he had not once killed a person. He had severed life threads before of course, but to hold the reins of life was different from cold blooded murder. 

And tonight, he wondered if he would make that plunge off that cliff. 

Jisung may have been a killer of demons, but Hyunjin was a hunter of monsters. 

And he had found his prey. 

The tip had come in early that morning and one of his Elders had sent him out to collect whatever information he could. There was nothing and no one waiting for him when he’d emerged on the docks of the Twinniean waterscape. Just the empty river that sang to him as he searched it. He knew that the Hyx he was hunting was Shifter born and may have very well shifted in a fish or an otter and disappeared beneath the water to escape him. But still, he had come back to the docks with nothing but the lingering scent. 

It had been five years since he’d been given this assignment, five years of running into dead ends and dead beasts as the Hyx evaded him at every turn. And then, Hyunjin had gotten his first break in his investigation.

  Jisung. 

The gods must have thrown him a bone by bringing Jisung to him. After the boy had accepted him as his Fate and told him the story of how his parents had been killed, Hyunjin had known immediately which demon was responsible. He hadn’t told Jisung, no, he knew that Jisung wanted nothing but revenge and would go to the ends of the earth to get it. And Hyunjin wasn’t interested in getting his friend killed. 

While searching the Waterscape hadn’t brought anything to light, all demons had their hideouts and Hyunjin had the demon's scent. 

He followed that scent all the way across town to where he knew it would take him. 

A grungy two-story brick building to the east with a LED flashing banner sign that read, PIRATES DEN. 

The den was a known hideout for demons who were unfortunate enough to have a brush with the law or had a bounty on their heads from the Slayer King. Only once before had Hyunjin set foot in this place,  just once had his Elders given him an assignment to scope the place out, get to know the crowd and blend in. He’d been found out as a Fate in under an hour, but not before making significant progress. 

The Den ran in packs, much like a true wolf den. The more stronger demons ran most of the establishment while the lessers served. The hierarchy was then split into races and those beings mostly clung to each other. 

The Stringbearer took at step back, hiding within the shadows as he gazed at the building across the street. A larger built dark winged Rythani stood outside the door, arms crossed over his chest. No shackles lay upon his wrists, no silver band crested in the old language of a fallen people or blood of witches. A free one then, an odd sight but not uncommon around these parts. Most of the blood witches within these parts were known for performing unshackling’s for the slaves.The act was illegal according to Yitan laws but clearly the demons had no care for such things. There were many underground businesses that thrived on the freeing of the Rythani or even just smuggling them off the continent.

This Rythani stood tall against the door, his black wings nestled against his back, eyes scouting through the dark. Hyunjin took a step back into the darkness, braiding his hair back as he shrugged off his cloak and the one dagger he had sheathed at his thigh. He couldn’t enter the Den as a Fate, no, he’d be found out in a nanosecond and quickly eaten. So he would enter as an old friend. 

The Rythani only blinked boredly at him as Hyunjin waltzed up. “What?” he sighed. 

Hyunjin purred, toying with the end of his braid. “So rude tonight..Byira.” Hyunjin said, glancing at the man's nametag on his breast. Byira only rolled his eyes, stepping aside and unblocking the entrance. “We’re closing early tonight, there's rumors of a raid going down. Be out by nine.” He handed Hyunjin a red ticket and allowed the Fate to step inside. 

It was just as he remembered it. 

A pair of ghouls sat at a booth in the far back near the rear exit. A largely fanged wolf pranced around  a counter that looked like it had been reorchestrated into a bar judging by the many bottles of alcohol laying upon it. And to the left, Hyunjin’s golden eyes flickered over a pair of females holding trays of food and what seemed to be goblets of blood. It was them that he watched, his eyes following the shorter of the two as she split off with a goblet in her hand to the upper level and out of sight. His feet made quick work to follow her, his steps silent as they mimicked hers. She led him through halls that were of the darkest black, only a flickering light at the end illuminating an out. The darkness was no doubt an accommodation for the demons who were nothing but shadow or spirit.  But further the woman went, the tray of blood in her hand perfectly balanced, not a drop spilling. 

They reached the end of the hall, where that ball of light bloomed. To the left gleamed an iron door, the woman reached for it, her nimble fingers gasping around the handle and slipping inside. Hyunjin debated surging for the door and ripping it open, if only to keep up with her before it closed. 

But the door had not shut he realized, not completely. 

It was the smell that had him moving, the scent that forced its way into his nostrils and down his throat. 

The beast he’d been hunting all these years was in there. 

He moved—adrenaline or perhaps the magic in his blood propelling him forward. And then he was there, within that room, surrounded in darkness once more. 

Nothing.

There was nothing here in this scape of darkness. He blinked, reaching inside him to that beacon of magic in his soul, casting it out into the nothing. 

Ah. 

Hello little fate. 

Hyunjin’s eyes flew open and he whirled. The room was still dark, so silent and—had it gotten colder? 

He was alone, there was no one in the room with him. Less of a room he supposed, there was nothing tangible here, nothing but his body and his mind and that crushing cold. 

Wrong— this was wrong, so very wrong. 

The voice spoke again, a voice of dreams and eternity. 

His mind, the thing was in his mind. 

This was not the Hyx, not the monster and killer he’d been hunting for half a decade. This thing, this beast— demon, was darkness and misery and pain and fury. 

I am not the beast you seek, am I, dear Stringbearer? The voice echoed. Oh, no, for that beast is only a pawn. 

“What are you?” Hyunjin found himself asking. 

The thing chuckled, deep and yearnfully, a lover’s caress. “ You know what I am, Fate. Your people have been whispering my name for eons. They thought they could trap me here, but they were wrong.” 

A shiver sent itself down Hyunjin’s spine and he tried— tried to find his way back through the fog, to connect to reality once more. But this thing, being of wind and shadows somehow held him there. There was no connection to the magic in his blood or to his body.  

“I have been waiting an awfully long time for you, Stringbearer.” The thing spoke. “For you are only a pawn in a much bigger game.” Another chuckle from those nonexistent lips. “Or have the Elders not told you of that part? Have they sent me a lamb to slaughter?" 

“I am no lamb.” Hyunjin said through gritted teeth. There was no magic in his veins, no power pulsing from his fingertips, no way out of this. 

For this was it— his end. 

For this was the moment he’d been forged for, the hand he’d been dealt by destiny. For Jisung he could do this, for Jisung he would die, if only to set things right. He took a step forward, his golden eyes staring straight ahead and stared down the beast that called itself Eternity. 

For that was what it was, the beginning, the end and the after. The darkness between worlds and a void that consumed everything. 

He took another step forward, fist clenching at his sides. Destiny had chosen him, given him Jisung as a gift and a curse and a reminder. 

He’d been born to die. 

The board was set, the pieces in place, the game had begun. 

Chapter Text

Hyunjin’s grave rested under the House of the Destined. 

Not out of spite or to shun the fallen bearer, but out of respect for the magic that rested in the male's veins. Hyunjin was life and death, and rebirth. Nature was the same. The fates had no gods, but the laws of nature were respected in the highest order. As a Stringbearer Hyunjin should have been buried with his brothers and sisters within the Tombs upon the higher levels of the House, close to the sky and open air. That way whatever remained of his spirit would sore free and commune with the other souls breaching the Afer. 

But there was no body in this grave. 

Two months had passed since the funeral, two months of searching and two months of silence. The Elders, nor their scouts, nor even the best hunters from the House of Demons had been able to find Hyunjin’s body. Jisung had gone out himself every day since then, taking a hound with  him to search even the worst parts of the city. He’s even wandered far enough into the Witches territory to warrant being chased away. The Witches had always been an iffy bunch when it came to dealing with his people from the House, they were not demons although Jisung had debated that fact many times. While the mostly female race were blood thirsty, they didn’t need it to survive. They were killers, no doubt about that, but unlike demons, the witches had moral codes and laws. 

They had buried an empty grave. 

Hyunjin’s mother had decided on the burial spot. She’d claimed that this is what Hyunjin would have preferred. Jisung wasn’t too sure about that though. Yes, Hyunjin loved nature and the earth, but he’d once told Jisung that should he die before him, that he’d prefer for Jisung to have his body cremated and for Jisung to have hold of his ashes. 

Not many Fates believed in cremation, some even deemed it deplorable and an insult on their many years of tradition and disrespectful towards the reincarnation process. But Hyunjin hadn’t cared, he never seemed to care about breaking tradition. 

And this was only temporary, once Jisung tracked down the monster that had killed his friend and found out what exactly it had done with Hyunjin’s body, he would give his friend the sendoff he deserved. 

With a silent whatever god would listen, Jisung placed the bundle of lilies upon the cold stone. For Fates, it was custom to leave lilies upon the physical graves for the fallen, white for rebirth, yellow for the freeing of the spirit and blue for safe travels. Jisung hadn’t been able to choose which ones to bring that morning, so he’d bought every color. If Hyunjin’s spirit was watching him, at least he knew that Jisung hadn’t forgotten him. 

The door creaked open just as Jisung was getting to his feet. He sighed, grabbing his bag off the stone floor and shouldering it. 

“I’m on my way out, no need for an escort.” he’d uttered those same words just the night before when one of the lesser Fates were sent down to retrieve him. And the night before that and the night before that. 

He exhaled once more, kissing two fingers and pressing it to the stone. 

I will find you and bring you home. I promise. 

He stood, turning to the door and the awaiting Fate. Yet, it was not a Fate at all that greeted him as Jisung came face to face with one of the human servants. 

Seungmin, Jisung remembered the man’s name to be. One of the human workers that Hyunjin had befriended within the House. The brunette had his back pressed against the door, a bundle of yellow lilies in his hands and a sad smile on his lips. “You don’t have to leave,” He gestured to the door with his thumb. “Elder Mackin has told everyone that you’re allowed to stay as long as you want.  I’ll be gone soon, I just came to pay my respects.”

Jisung waved him off, strapping his bag tighter. “Thanks, but I actually have some work to do. I’ll be back tomorrow though.” He glanced back at the stone, to the empty grave below. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.” 

Seungmin shifted, the plastic wrapping of the bouquet rustling in his hands as he too looked to that sorry excuse for a resting place. “It’s weird, you know?  Not seeing him. Hyunjin was the first person to speak to me when I came here. He was kind and one of the only genuine people here,”  A soft mournful smile crept onto his lips. “He and Jeongin were my closest friends.” 

Friend. 

He’d been aware that Hyunjin had other friends, people who he hung out with besides him, a completely different social circle. Hyunjin had been loveable and inclusive to all, even the humans and the servants that were always seen as lesser within the House. That had been something Jisung had always loved about the male.

Seungmin inhaled, those eyes landing on the grave behind Jisung as he continued. “When Jeongin.. died, ” He said the word as if he wasn’t sure if it was accurate.

“I had a hard time coming to terms with it. Gods, Chan wouldn’t even allow any of us to have a funeral for him. So I mourned my friend alone. Hyunjin would sit with me sometimes, come over on the bad nights when I couldn’t bear the loneliness. He loved Jeongin, you know? And now that they’re both gone, I..” he trailed off, eyes distant, still focused on that cold stone. 

Jisung recognized that look, recognized that feeling that was swimming within Seunmin. It was the same abyss rising inside him, the swelling of pain that threatened to overflow.  Not just grief or anger or agony. There was chasm within their hearts, a writing emptiness that wanted to consume them both. 

Seungmin blinked, eyes clearing as he found Jisung’s gaze again. “I just wanted to say that if you need someone to talk to or if you just want company, I’m here.” 

Companionship, that was what Seungmin was offering. Perhaps Jisung needed that offering, to take that outstretched hand that the man had reached out to him. 

“I think about it.” were the words that Jisung settled on. “I..i have something that I need to do first.” 

“You’re going after Hyunjin’s killer?” 

Jisung nodded. Seungmin nodded back, straightening his shoulders. “Will you promise me something?” 

Jisung raised a brow in question. 

“Bring him home.” 

Jisung would. 

He would bring Hyunjin’s body back from whatever hellscape that demon had stashed it. And then Jisung would right it all, kill that monster that had taken his friend and shattered his world. 

And when that was done, when Hyunjin was properly buried and mourned, Jisung would return to his original task and find the monster that had killed his parents. 

He would make it all right. 

His room at the House of Demons was the first stop he made. He’d avoided most of the other killers, spies or even just the servants. Technically he wasn’t even supposed to be here, Chan had banned him from working and had told him to take the time to mourn. But Jisung was so tired or mourning, so tired of spending time in his apartment alone. He needed to feel something. Drinking hadn’t helped, only made him feel ten times more guilty for letting Hyunjin’s killer run free. So he had gone back to killing. Ripping a demon's spine from their body always seemed to make him feel better, soothed that ache within him. 

The room Chan had assigned to him was mostly bare, the only things within it were a bed, a few books and lamps. He had no personal items here, nothing he was attached to. No, all of that was still in his and Hyunjin’s apartment. 

His apartment now, Jisung supposed. He didn't have the courage to pack up Hyunjin’s room though. It was where he slept most nights. The scent of the man had long since faded despite the sheets remaining unwashed. If he had been anything other than human, would he have been able to keep that scent? 

Hyunjin had a flower scent, but even that memory was fading. 

Was it roses or dandelions?

Perhaps lilacs?

Perhaps it had not been flowers at all and his mind was only playing tricks on him. He couldn’t remember. 

He couldn’t remember . 

A swell of pain writhed within Jisung, trailing up from his stomach and into his chest-all the way to his heart. It squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. 

He couldn’t remember. 

He couldn’t remember. 

He couldn’t remember. 

The pain festered, the air was ripped from his lungs and Jisung halted. The room spun, the lights all too bright for his eyes. He couldn’t breathe, it was too much- this pain was too much. He couldn’t do this-didn’t want to live in this world without Hyunjin. 

There had been a time, a time where Jisung had believed them to be bonded. A silly, useless thought, he realized not too long after. He had never known a human to be bonded to any immortal. But that hadn’t stopped the feelings from growing, it hadn’t stopped his heart racing whenever he saw his friend or from that ache building in his soul. 

Bonded or not, there had been a connection, a thread tying them together. Perhaps they were not bonded lovers, not soulmates, but something other . Something more than just a normal love. 

He could feel himself breaking. The pain eating at him bit by bit , carving him open from the inside. He wanted to submit to it, to give in and just drown in all the anger and the fear and the hurt. He was ready to accept it, to end it all. 

Not yet. A small voice said to him.

Not yet. It called again, so familiar, so warm.

He knew that warmth, had leaned into it many times before. 

Breathing was a pain, but Jisung attempted to inhale, to fill his lungs with air. 

There were still two demons on the loose that he had to track down. He would keep his promise to Seungmin and bring Hyunjin home. 

Even if it tore him apart to do so..

Chapter Text

Chan caught him on his way out. 

Jisung had barely acknowledged the man's presence as he stepped into step beside Jisung. “You look like shit,” 

Jisung didn’t bother responding, his mind was preoccupied. He would go east today, travel down into the capital and search every alleyway, ditch, and demon hiding ground that he could find. He would stay in Polm for two nights before following the river northward. He would revisit the slums within Brewn, push into the Witchlands and start hunting there. He had questions, so many questions and no answers. 

He needed to know, why had Hyunjin been hunting his parents' killer? Why had the Elders ordered him to do so? Had Hyunjin being assigned to him, truly been a coincidence or had destiny or the Gods brought them together?

“Jisung,” Chan said softly. “You have that look in your eye that screams you’re ready to kill someone.” He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, gentle and warm. “I know you’re hurt. But running into danger won't bring him back.” 

“No,” Jisung said. “It won’t. But at least I’ll be ridding the world of a few demons in the process.” 

He thumbed for the blade seethed at his side, ran a finger over the hilt, feeling the lettered engravings. 

H.H. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

The blade had belonged to Hyunjin, Jisung had found it after looking through Hyunjin’s drawers. It wasn’t uncommon for Fates to have blades or knowledge about weapons or to have the skills to use them. But most preferred the magic in their veins to use in times of distress. Hyunjin had been trained by the best fighters across the land since childhood, he’d told Jisung that early on in the first days they’d met. But despite that skill, it had not been enough to save him. 

“Will you just listen to me for one second?” 

Jisung halted his steps, turning stiffly to face his head. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why should I do that? You seemed perfectly content to shoo me away the last time I came to you for help” 

“I’m trying to keep you alive.” Chan bit back. 

“Why? I am nothing and no one. Hyunjin was a Fate, he had more purpose in this world than I ever did and he is gone. Because you and him chose to keep secrets from me. If I had known, if you had told me then he would still be here.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do. I know that my friend lost his life to track my monster, my burden. I know that if I had been there, I could have prevented it. If I had known-” his voice cracked, a tremble in his words. Jisung bit back the tears threatening to consume him. 

“Knowing wouldn’t have saved him.” Chan said gently. “Hyunjin was a Fate, he had his own path to walk that had been decided long before his birth. Hyunjin knew what being a Stringbearer would cost him.” 

“It’s not fair.” Jisung whispered. His fingers trembled at his sides. “It’s...it’s not fair that he died. This world needed him, I needed him. And he...he left..left me.”  

“Not by choice.” Chan said. “If he could choose, Jisung, if he had a choice in his destiny or yours for that matter, he would have stayed. He would have chosen you.” 

A stray tear slipped from Jisung’s eye, the male wiped it away with his sleeve. “None of it matters now.” The demon killer let his hand fall back down to his side, his body becoming hard and cold once more. “He is dead. My friend is dead and his body is stuffed in some hellscape with a demon probably feasting on it. I have no care for what if’s or could have been’s.” 

“Jisung..” 

Jisung took a step back, eyes narrowed into slits as they looked upon Chan. “I am heading out to search. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, I suggest you get Drayian to fill my place for the time being.”

Chan only stared at the young boy before him. “I’m not replacing you.” 

Jisung shrugged. “You need a third Chan. Changbin can’t guard you all by himself.” he took another step, turning away from Chan. “If you get any leads for me, give me a call.” 

He didn’t wait for Chan to attempt to stop him again, didn’t wait for a goodbye or for Chan to scream that he was being foolish. No, the killer of demons only treaded out of the House, his bag strapped across his shoulders and ice in his veins. 

Outside, the sun had just begun to set, the sky turning a pleasant purple and orange, the clouds nothing more than whispers of a God's breathing. From the steps and atop the hill, he could see the Twinean river, the waves slowly rippling as if they too were on the verge of sleeping. Jisung took in the sight, let himself inhale the scent of the trees and the flowers and committed it all to memory. 

Because he knew, just as well as Chan did that he would not be returning to this place. 

In the darkness it watched. 

Those glowing yellow orbs blinking with every step the demon killer made. The human scent filled its nostrils, delving deep within the being and settling in its stomach. The being hissed at the familiar taste, licking its lips in want. For it was hunger that drove the beast, hunger and ancient promise. Soon the beast would pounce, soon it would end this game. 

But for now. 

It watched.

Chapter Text

Kallisky Deverno knew he was a bastard.

And perhaps the few dozen Rythani slaves he now fed knew it too. Perhaps their strong noses could scent the human blood within him; the Gods knew they definitely scented the beast blood within him. It would be hard for them not to, as it was the same blood that ran through their own veins.

A halfling, that's what he was.

A bastard child born of human and beast; not true Rythani, but not a true human either. In his 31 years of living, he had not once been shackled by the courts or deemed a slave.Despite the black leathery wings  that put his heritage on display and the unearthly green of his eyes. Without a doubt, his freedom was only garnered due to his fathers human status. His mother on the other hand had not been as lucky. The story he'd been told was that his mother had been a slave belonging to the Witches and his father had been a general in the Witch Queens legion. By law it was forbidden to procreate with the slaves but that hadn't stopped his father from raping his mother until she'd turned up pregnant with him. The man had been “disciplined” as his Aunt had put it. Meaning that he'd been given a slap on the wrist by the legal system and not even the Witch Queen herself could do anything about it, despite the crime happening in her lands. As for his mother; the woman had been withdrawn from the Witch queen's employ and given over to a human lord up in the valleys of Desparta, where she had given birth to him. The lord had raised him until puberty, until his Aunt had come looking for him.

Loui Deverno had taken him in, given him a bed and clothes and made sure he had enough food to eat every night. Despite knowing how he'd come into this world, despite knowing exactly the type of man her brother had been, Loui had been kind to him. The woman herself was a soldier, not in a legion or military but a soldier of life. From the stories he'd been raised on, his aunt and father had been raised by a sadistic bastard with a temper. The man that should have been his grandfather had been a torturer, beating his two children daily and then slipping into their beds at night. 

Perhaps that was where his father had learned it, perhaps the trauma from his own childhood had broken something so irrevocably  in the man. 

But none of that mattered in the end, the man had violated his mother, that had been his choice.  

Kallisky had only ever met the man once; after his father had been notified that his mother had been executed and burned. The man had stood on Loui's porch holding the box that held her ashes. Kallisky had said nothing as he snatched it from him and shut the door in the man's face.

That had been eight years ago.

He was 31 now, a high ranking killer within the Heads convoy, spy, and Director of slave functions. His head had taken one look at him, heard his story and decided that having a half Rythani male in charge of his slaves had been better than having one of the City appointed keepers. And the slaves liked him. Well most of them liked him, the other half were still too feral to regain their mental functions. He was as good to them as he could be considering they were still slaves. but they were Rythani, his people, his mothers people. 

Sometimes, when he was given overnight watch, he’d sneak down to the cellars where his kin slept and listen in on them telling stories to the younger Rythani babes. Most of the time it was in Ryhea, the ancient language of their people, a language that Kallisky didn’t understand one bit of; but sometimes when they spoke the common tongue, he would take a seat and listen. 

His people had been born from starlight itself.

 Or so goes the story.

“From the beginning, we have always been.”  he remembered one of the older slaves saying. 

 “From the pit of darkness that all life emerges from, our beginning sat there, waiting to be touched. And as it would be expected a kernel of light crashed into the pit. A blessing from the Goddess of Stars and Light herself- a summons to awaken. Thus, we were born. The heart of a star burned into a people. ” 

Light and darkness, a beginning and an end. 

And then the wars had raged, his mothers people turned slaves and their power locked away. Centuries  of depravity and still, these people-his people fought. While most news outlets downplayed the seriousness of Rythani rebellions, there had been many in the recent years although without any true power, his people had no chance of  succeeding. 

At least Chan was a kind owner, as kind as he could be with the city heads checking in every month. But where Chan couldn’t provide humanity or kindness, Kallisky stepped in. 

Such as tonight.

A young Rythani girl lay on her back on a cot of old sheets and hay; a cold rag on her forehead. E’laia, he remembered her name to be, not her real name, no, that had been stripped away from her the day she’d been claimed by the court and then sold off to Chan. Renaming had been one way the slaves had taken a small bit of control back, most of the chosen names brought from the old language, the names of old gods or cities. 

The girl rasped on the bed, a sound Kallisky had heard many times throughout his life. 

A death rattle. 

The sickness that lived within her had spread to her lungs. Kallisky was not a doctor, nor healer and the city heads refused to bring in either for slaves. They’d given E’laia a death sentence as she would surely die without any treatment. But for the time being, the only thing Kallisky could give her was comfort in her last days. 

E’laia wretched,  arching off the cot and bowing over a bucket as she vomited. Another slave, a girl with raven dark, back length hair braided against her spine holds the bucket firm, her other hand running soothing rubs into E’laia’s back. 

“She’s getting worse.” The dark haired girl said, her wings shifting as she helped E’laia back onto the pillow. 

“I know,” Kallisky said softly, kneeling to his knees beside the cot. He laid a gentle hand on the sheer blanket upon E’laia’s leg  giving her soothing rubs. “I’ll bring her some tea later tonight, it should help soothe her stomach.” he sighed, staring at the contents of the bucket. “How much did she eat?” 

The dark haired girl exhaled, her eyes worn with exhaustion. “Two bites of bread and a few pieces of the meat. Which isn’t odd for her, she usually gives her meals to the babies,”  She sighed, straightening.

 “She collapsed only a few minutes after that, and has been like this ever since.” 

Kallisky nodded, swallowing her words. 

“She’ll die won't she?” the girl asked. Kallisky only nodded, not having the heart to lie.E’laia groaned on the cot, her body trying to find a more comfortable position as she slumped back into a deep sleep. The girl sighs, getting to her feet, wings rustling against her back. “Will..will the Head allow a burial?" 

Kallisky shifted on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. “I can ask,” he says. Although part of him expected the request to be denied. Slaves were property not people. Most times when a slave passed their bodies were burned or dropped into the Twinnean to sink away.  

As if their kind were nothing more than trash. 

“Do you know the prayers?” The girl asks moving away from the cot to fold a pile of old raggy towels that, even from his spot a few feet away, Kallisky could still smell mildew on them. He’d need to see to getting new ones for them.

He blinks, turning towards the female, brows raised. “Prayers?” 

She nods. “In the old world, it was tradition to mourn our dead for three days and three nights; to pray every hour for their safe travel to the heart of Biethat.” a hint of an accent leaves her lips as she pronounces the name, her hand coming to tap at her own heart. 

He hadn’t known that, had never been taught such things from his aunt. 

“No,” Kallisky answers. He opens his mouth to speak again, then furrows his brows as he realizes; “What…what is your name?” 

She doesn’t smile nor meet his eyes, only continues her task of folding moldy towels. “I have no name.” 

He blinked, kicking at the stone ground. “You..haven’t chosen one yet?” 

The question pulls a bitter laugh from her lips. “I was born without a name, stolen as a babe from my mothers womb. I was slave from the moment I entered this earth. As far as I'm concerned, slave is the only name I've ever known.” 

She drops the pile of towels on a box, configured into a table. “A name means nothing to me. I will die sooner than later, probably from the same sickness she has or from whatever treatment I am subjected to by whoever buys me when your master is done with me.” 

“You..you can’t truly believe that.” Kallisky speaks. “Chan, would never let you be purchased by a monster.” 

She shrugged. “Even the Head of Demons isn’t all powerful.” She turns away bracing her hands on the boxtable. “The prayers begin as follows,” her voice dipped as she uttered the words of ancient prayers, her tongue pronouncing them with efficiency. Kallisky stared at her, biting down on his lip. “I...i don’t speak Ryhea." 

 The woman cocked her head. “You are Rythani,” 

“Half,” Kallisky said, not meeting her eyes as a lick of shame ran through him. He’d had thirty years of life and not once taken an opportunity to learn. “I..i was raised by humans.” 

As if that was an excuse. 

She blinked. “Oh,” she said softly. “You are Kallisky then.” For some reason, the way she spoke his name sent chills down his spine. “The others talk about you quite a bit.” 

“I’m sure they do.” he said, the words taut, emotionless. He cleared his throat, straightening, wings flexing in tow. “How do you know the language? You seem barely older than twenty.” 

She gave him a faint smile. “Like I said, I was born slave. I was taught by the old ones as were the others.” 

Behind them, E’alia rasped again, a choking sound coming from her lips as she coughed. The black haired female shifted as if she’d go to her, but Kallisky held up a hand. “I’ve got her.” 

The female paused but nodded. “You are a kind male, Kallisky.”  

Again, she spoke his name with such..reverence, with such meaning behind it. As if it meant something to her. 

Kallisky took a step towards the cot E’laia lay on. “You should get in your cell, lights out is soon. I don’t want to be forced to whip you.” 

The female nodded, stepping away. “Goodnight, kind one.” 

Kallisky didn’t watch her go.

The head of demons sat in a chair of cedar. 

Kalisky stood with his back against the door, his wings brushing against the cool wood. 

Chan reclined in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he set down a stack of papers. “Yes Kal? Don’t just stand there like a tree.” 

Kalisky swallowed the chuckle in his throat and straightened. “I just came to ask for a favor.” 

“What type of favor?”

“A slave girl is sick,” Kalisky said, words soft yet firm. “I would like permission to have her buried.” 

Chan turned in his seat, eyes landing on Kalisky hard and unmoving. “You know the law Kal.” 

The halfling let his eyes drop to the stone floor. “I do. But, I was hoping that maybe you could offer her a bit of kindness? She’s..very sick, won’t make it until the end of the week it looks like.” 

“And you want to bury her?” 

“She’s a person Chan.” Kalisky said. 

Chan raised brow. “She’s a slave.” He said sternly. The blonde male stood, cracking his knuckles as he took steps towards Kalisky. “I have sympathy for you Kal, I do. I understand that you are torn between two peoples and I try to make things as..merciful around here as I can. But the law is the law. If the girl dies she is to be burned or sunken.” 

“No one has to know,” Kalisky whispered. “She deserves a sliver of respect even if that comes in death.” 

“I agree with you. But you know that the Cityheads will have my head if they hear any whispers of mercy towards the slaves. I know you mean well Kal, but my answer is no.” 

Kalisky bowed his head, teeth clashing together. “I don’t know why I expected anything different. You wouldn’t even have a funeral for that Fate you call a brother. I should have known you’d show no mercy for those considered lesser.” 

Chan blinked, rage filling his eyes as he took in Kalisky’s words. “Don’t you dare bring Jeongin into this.” 

“Why? Can’t handle the truth? Tell me Chan, how did the great slayer king allow for his own brother to be taken by demons?” 

Chan bristled, jaw locking and unlocking. “I’d choose your next words carefully. Or I just might show exactly how I got the title of Slayer King, Deverno.” He stood from the table, crossing the few feet towards the halfling. “I am your Head, you answer to me and I owe no explanations to a subordinate such as yourself.  Disrespect my brother again and it will be the last thing you do. Is that understood?” 

Kallisky said nothing, only nodded and bowed his head. Chan let out a deep exhale and he turned back towards the table. “Jisung will be indisposed for the time being, I need a new third.” 

Kallisky raised a brow, he and Jisung had never been close; only really spent time together on hunts or assignments when Chan demanded it. The human killer was only a few years younger than Kallisky, yet he’d risen through the ranks and become one of Chan’s most sought after members.

“What of Drayian?” Kallisky asked. Drayian Hera, another member of Chan’s personal triage. Drayian was one of the only other non-human killers that dwelled within the House, a vampire that Chan had sought out years ago and trained to be his personal assassin and spy alongside Changbin. 

“Drayian is working on an assignment in the Gigoran valley. He won’t be back for months; I’ve promoted Yami to second but that still leaves Jisung’s spot empty. So I am asking you to take his place.” 

“What if I say no?” 

Chan shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to find someone else. Although, I would rather have you by my side. Regardless of our different beliefs, you are one of my most talented killers. Not to mention you’re Rythani heritage makes you faster and stronger than normal humans. And then theres the magic..” 

Kalisky blinked. “I don’t have any magic.” 

“Don’t you?” Chan chuckled. The head ran a finger along the wooden table, assessing invisible dust. “Most hybrids come into their power late in life. Jeongin didn’t discover his until he was 15.” 

“His mother was a powerful bearer, Jeongin was always going to have power.” Kalisky said. “That’s not the same thing as being Rythani born. Our magic doesn’t play by the same rules. And again, I don’t have any.” 

“Have you ever tried accessing it?” Chan asked. “How can you be so sure that there's nothing there when you haven’t even looked?” 

Chan sighed, turning away once more. “I need power Kal. I sense that things are going to get bad. And when the time comes I'm going to need more than mere mortality to fight against it.” 

“What? You mean like a turf war?” the halfling snorted.

 But Chan didn’t laugh, only stared. 

“War is coming.” He said. “And I intend to survive it.” 

The words had Kalisky straightening, wings tucking in. “What do you mean, war?” 

But Chan only smiled. “If the girl truly succumbs to her illness, there is an unnamed grave a level below the dungeon. Bury her there.” 

Kalisky didn’t get a chance to thank his Head as Chan walked out of the room.