between hell.

IV

act one: the limbo

part four: aer

Beside me always, a kingdom of spirit; inside of me, a haunted house.

-Segovia Amil.

NOLAN ASHWORTH

"Trust me, Macaria Asker. I know."

Macaria Asker's face was nothing but a blank page. She didn't let her expressions betray her thoughts but, a mild wave of anger ran through her purple eyes, and she clenched her jaw.

She wasn't able to hide that.

Onyx waves framed her fierce face. The color of cardinals were splashed across her sharp cheekbones and her skin was a cosmic masterpiece. Stars were imprinted upon her Roman nose and crimson constellations were painted across her lips. Her eyes unfurled into lisianthuses, amethysts so bold they threatened to intimidate him, flecks of chaos sprinkled in them. Imperium veiled her glare, and it led him to a realm beyond words.

She looked like an angel, but truly was a daemon. She was like night: dark, chaotic but still more prepossessing than anything else in the Realm. Even the moon feared her, as it hid behind cloudy bars. Macaria Asker was a name that was never going to escape Vulroye and Cambion tongues, the ichor in her veins and the blood on her stainless dress made it impossible to forget her. Mortals didn't fear gods as much as they feared Macaria's wrath. A woman with no soul was one to be intimidated by.

"How do you know who I am?" Her silvery voice was calm, although he could hear the undercurrent of vexation hidden behind her articulate speech.

"I know things about you, Macaria Asker, that are worse than your name."

A ghost of a smile was the only response he evoked from the assassin. Her gown was as ebony as her soul, as idyllic as her mind. She was draped in sparkling silks, and threads of starlight that were woven in the fabric. She truly was an alluring woman, perhaps the most enticing one he knew.

But, Nolan knew better than to even think of Macaria in a way that he knew would be indirectly stabbing his father in the back. Macaria's beauty was something she used as a weapon and she wasn't going to hesitate to use it against him. After all, she didn't know him. But, even if she did, he doubted she would even have a scruple before she used it.

"So, Deimos, you're not much of a talker, are you?"

"It doesn't really matter."

She clicked her tongue. "It does, because I really want to know something."

Macaria moved closer to him, their frigid breaths mingling. The night suddenly seemed a lot warmer than before. Her body heat wrapped around him. On any other day, the lack of distance between a woman and him would've been something he cherished. But, she was Macaria Asker. He had the intelligence to draw lines there.

"What do you want to know?"

"Who sent you here? And, what you came to do here... does it involve me?" She interrogated, her Reaper self more prominent than before. Her voice had a seductive undertone, but he hardly suspected she was trying to bed him.

The Reapers were the harbingers of the end for Cambions. If any Cambion ever touched a Reaper's blade, they would immediately return to dust, from where they rose. Nolan's hatred of the Reapers definitely came from being surrounded by constant death and havoc. He's heard stories of the Reapers- Macaria Asker, Darian Theimos and Airmeith Orliamsik- sneaking into Neconair, through the Thorn Mountains, the only passage to Neconair near Easby. He'd heard stories of villages, burning brighter than the flames on candles in a dark room, with men and women and infants slain, with no mercy.