You really enjoy killing, don’t you?

  A voice ripped through space and time, cutting into Ethan’s brain like a synaptic bond.

  You are like a child, tearing legs off insects.

  Ethan lowered his blades and glanced at the smooth material of the unbreakable door.

  “Am I speaking with the one known as the Architect?”

  Architect, the voice scoffed – its timbre filled with hidden threat. A name bequeathed by humans in their endless desire to categorize and control.

  “I am no human,” Ethan replied.

  The voice’s words were swift as a quick death.

  You are just as human as the rest of them.

  Ethan felt the fog of the mountain range grow colder. The broken world around him seemed to vibrate with raw, primal rage.

  As with the rest, you have come here seeking power, the Architect’s ancient voice muttered in his mind. Just like them, you shall leave here disappointed.

  Who does this asshole think he i-

  Ethan ignored Sys and dropped to one knee, embedding both his blades into the burned ground beneath.

  “Please,” he said. “I come here for guidance, not for strength.”

  You come with the desire to best your enemies, the Architect rumbled in the depths of the earth. You come here for knowledge that will help you build your perfect world. Such worlds are built on the bones of the dead. And I shall have no part in it.

  “That is an assumption on your part,” Ethan retorted. “Am I to understand that you haven’t heard my Mandate? For the first time in Argwyll’s history, I am on the threshold of creating a nation of harmony – of co-dependence and cooperation between Hybrids and humankind. I would have you see it as it is with your own eyes before you place judgement upon it.”

  The earth vibrated again, and the voice came fast and thick – like a spike was being driven right into Ethan’s frontal lobe.

  There it is, the Architect rumbled. Those very human words, uttered by an all too-human tongue. Peace. Nation. Harmony. Co-dependence. Judgement?! Do not dare to speak to me of judgement, pretender.

  The air around the mountain range suddenly grew thick – corrupted by whatever forces the Architect commanded. Ethan felt the foggy air claw at his throat, and was thankful for his Incorruptible Passive that no doubt must have given his new foe pause.

  But he got the sense that the Architect wasn’t really trying to kill him. Instead, it felt more like he wanted his message to sink in.

  Human, hybrid, Greycloak, Lightborn, Archon – all of you come, and you go. You debase this world and tear from it everything that you feel is important, giving nothing in return. I have watched it happen, Archon Ethan. I have watched the Cycle occur since before even the stars had form. And your part in the Cycle will be no different to the rest.

  “I disagree,” Ethan stated emphatically, rising and spreading his arms wide – offering cooperation as opposed to supplication, now. “All I ask is a chance to show you what I want for your world. All I ask is a chance to show you that it is not domination I seek over this earth.”

  The voice crackled with vile laughter – a chorus of sound like the whole world was chuckling with it.

  The Grey One who came here also spoke such lovely words before I drove him off to hide. His tongue was just as silvered as yours. Unfortunate that I cannot destroy you as you are. But neither can you compel me to listen to your drivel. I have heard it all before you ever set foot on this world. And I shall hear it again and again, till the earth is swallowed by chaos.

  “We can prevent that,” Ethan said through gritted teeth. “If you just listen to what I have to say.”

  Why should I give the last line of failures the time of day? You have not earned an audience.

  “Earned?” Ethan snarled, the world ringing in his ears like a raging bull in a china shop. “You have no idea what I’ve done. What I’ve had to do – what all of us have had to do to make it this far! This world could be saved. And you sit by and watch. Is that the extent of your powers?

  Ethan expected anger. He expected to coax this creature out of its layer by pissing it off enough.

  But all he got was a sense that some paternal guardian was utterly disappointed in him.

  No matter how the beings of this world may try to dance their little numbers on the stage, a lie is still a lie.

  The threads of fog began weaving themselves between the busted forms of them golems.

  Your talents lie not in building, the Architect echoed in his mind. No – they lie elsewhere. Behold the fruits of your labor. Behold all you shall ever accomplish on this earth.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  For a moment, the image of Argwyll’s death at his hands flashed in his mind again, and Ethan closed his eyes to the sight of his own mirthful face staring back at him.

  Then he felt the voice begin to draw away, dense fog dissipating and leaving him in the golem graveyard alone once more.

  “No,” he said. “Wait!”

  You are not worthy, the voice of the ancient repeated. And you shall fall like the rest.

  Then the mountain range was back in sight, clear as day.

  And Ethan stood alone.

  He stood in the middle of the crushed stone and grey-matter that had once been the golem army, absent-mindedly staring at the piece of stonework that wouldn’t move for him no matter how hard he tried.

  I hate to be the guy that says ‘I told you so’, Sys quipped. But let’s face it – from the sounds of his voice alone, he doesn’t exactly seem like the kinda guy who’s willing to lend a helping hand.

  Ethan felt his fingers grip his sword hilts harder. By this point, the hands of the angel were red-raw.

  You can’t win em all, Sys tried telling him. Sooner or later you’ve gotta realize that.

  “He has something that even Remiel feared,” Ethan whispered. “He feared it enough that he never wanted me to meet this creature.”

  You don’t need it! Sys yelled – loud enough to give Ethan pause. By the Archo-eh- you – you’ve got all the damn power in the world, now! Kaedmon doesn’t stand a chance. You know that!

  “I do,” Ethan whispered as he looked at his reflection in the flaming blade of his longsword.

  “…but it’s not him I’m afraid of.”

  ***

  “A toast to us – the Guardians of the Archon!”

  Amidst the smell of pungent spirits, Tara, Fauna, and Klax were swept up in their own little world.

  But the spirits they indulged in were not the mystical kind.

  Tara’s revelation had been heretical – she had pilfered some fine Camoran vintages from the wine cellars of Cassandra and her fellow nobles in the city while Ethan tore the Cathedral apart. Her frequent ‘trips’ to the capital city on ‘scouting missions’ in the Eastern Sanctum tunnels had finally begun to make sense. While they plotted their assault on the Barrier Tower of the Mages, Tara had some secret entrances dug right under the noses of a few prominent Cardinals in the city.

  “You can always count on a priest having a good vintage,” she slurred.

  Such revelry had been rare among the Hybrids since Ethan’s ascension as the Dark Angel. They now barely ever got the chance for a break amidst all the chaos of the Mandate, the new world, and the impending assault on its very God. With the cover of night, and under the gazes of the stars, they decided that now was the time for a little bit of reminiscing.

  “Remember when we did this just after Ethan took that dumbass spider’s body?” Tara quipped, guzzling down another bottle of brandy.

  “I remember it all too well,” Klax muttered while he took a few sips of his own glass. “You were good enough to lead Ethan into battle and accept your punishment afterwards.”

  Tara scoffed, but it was clear that she recalled the event and regretted it, even if she had nothing more to say on the matter.

  “…I forgot you hate fun,” was all she sighed.

  Before the two of them could get into a heated debate, Fauna let out a shrill hiccup and pouted at the bonfire between them.

  “Where ish he?” she moaned. “He sshouldn’t be gone thish long. Tara? Tara – you think hesh left ush aga – hic! – again?”

  Tara and Klax shared a knowing look.

  “Our Sis finally stirs,” she laughed over the rim of her bottle. “Here I thought you’d become just as miserable as our glorious leader had.”

  “He is not miser-hic!-miserable!” Fauna wailed, standing on wobbly legs. “He’s just under a lot of -hic! -press – p – press-ah!”

  Tara leaped over the fire and threw Fauna’s arms around her. Klax, meanwhile, sat back and smiled at the sight.

  “We’re all under too much pressure these days,” she told her sweating sister. “But soon, the world’s gonna be saved. And you’ll have him all to yourself.”

  Fauna tried to remain her new stoic self. But when it came to alcohol, her old bashfulness shone through.

  “…I’m not thinking about that,” she muttered. “Especially not at a time like thi-wow!”

  Tara, giggling manically, suddenly began throwing Fauna around in a parody of human line dancing.

  “Klaxy!” she shouted. “Give us a beat, man!”

  Cupping his hands together, Klax began a masterful practice of the ancient art of ‘beat-boxing’. Ethan had shown them that this was how the people on the streets of his city did battle – engaging in brave duels on street corners against foes who would dare to dishonor their reputation.

  Tara and Fauna ended up chuckling away as they both began to lean into the dance by the fire. Klax kept up his pace, their furred feet moved to the tune.

  “The guy always leads,” Tara whispered to her bemused (and very tipsy) friend. “Follow my steps and I’ll show you how to dance with our glorious leader when the time comes.”

  Fauna rolled her eyes at her friend, looking back at Klax who was taking his musical accompaniment way too seriously.

  “How do you know so much about human dancing rituals?” Fauna asked her partner.

  “Meh. You pick these things up.”

  Now it was Fauna’s turn to mock her friend for her uncharacteristic bashfulness. As the rabbit-girl smirked up at her, Tara averted her gaze.

  “You wanna try it on him, don’tcha?”

  “The dogbrain wouldn’t know how to go with the flow,” she muttered as they twirled through the night.

  “Maybe he needs the right incentive.”

  With a sly slip of her hand, Fauna grabbed Tara’s arm and placed her paw on the slip of her back.

  “That’ll get him to pay attention,” she smiled.

  Tara looked at her friend with surprise before an impish grin spread across her face.

  “Miss Fauna,” she chuckled. “I’ve been a terrible influence on you.”

  The pair kept up their dancing as the night went on and the flames of their campfire sparked lightly, sending their own lights into the star-filled sky of evening. Up here in the Southern reaches, far from the changing civilization below, Argwyll seemed eerily peaceful. As they joked and laughed together, the trio could be forgiven for believing that this might be the way the world was headed. Numb to the sounds of revolution echoing in the valleys of Eastmarch below, they escaped into their own little realm of joy and song.

  Then, suddenly, a pair of wings flapped in the cold, and Klax abruptly ceased his beatboxing.

  Fauna and Tara tripped over themselves, sending several bottles of booze worth more money than they’d ever seen in their lives scuttling down the mountainside.

  But one of them trundled towards the raised foot of Ethan Hawke, and he stopped it with a single tap.

  “Ethan,” Klax said.

  He seemed ashamed, and began to cover up the bottles he’d already downed with his tail while Tara and Fauna looked on from the ground.

  “We’ve – we were keeping watch!” Tara fumbled. “Honest. We just – y’know – wanted to take the edge off and –“

  She stopped when Ethan simply raised one of his hands and picked up the bottle at his foot. With a single, swift motion, he shoved the wine into his throat and downed its contents in five seconds flat, exhaling with a brisk burp in the aftermath.

  To his confused Hybrid’s faces, he had only one thing to say:

  “Tonight, we’re going to find out how wasted an angel can get.”