The chasm was far away enough from the Valley that my kin would be undisturbed and unchallenged. We drifted over the edge of the sheer crimson rock face and flowed like water until we reached the bottom in a plume.
Something was wrong. We all sensed it as one.
My kin and I tried to rise, to escape from the chasm. Danger turned the air thick and hindered our movements, but magic locked us and turned our shadows into solid flesh.
Our screams were piercing. A keen of a dying animal.
I had a body. For the first time in my life.
The sand burnt into my dark skin, the dim light seared my eyes. I reached out to connect with my kin. My Cluster. But found nothing.
My legs shook as I clawed my way along the rough rock, pressed close. I did not want to be out in the open, the walls made me feel safer. I was able to see all around and to protect my back. I tried not to look at the ground. The hundreds of pitch-black bodies, hunched over, solid and screaming.
Every step was pain, but I made it.
I felt my kin die, one by one, like candles being snuffed. With every death, I grew faster and more determined. I would survive.
Hairline cracks broke through the sand, and the ground began to rumble. I stumbled along. Every step cut across my new flesh. Touch was pain. Feeling was agony.
The further away I got from the chasm, the less it hurt. I felt my flesh turn to shadows once more. I slumped, head down, relieved to the point of tears, and unable to hold back my despair.
Then I looked back.
A Bhakshi slivered through the dying bodies of my kin. The huge wyrm had razor-sharp teeth. Rows and rows, curved inwards. Dripping. Snarling. Hungry.
My instincts hammered against my mind. Warning me that the Bhakshi would devour all in its path.
I turned back as I ran. The Balance sat on the edge of the cliff face. A hundred feet above me. Her childlike legs swinging as she watched how my life had ended, and my family had died.
I looked up to where the Bhakshi had been, it was gone, along with the corpses of my family. When my gaze dropped down to my surroundings, I found myself staring into the shining silver eyes of a little blonde girl.
“Do you know who created the Bhakshi, and their masters, the Shayati?” The Balance asked delicately, her eyes scanned the chasm with indifference.
I shook my head, still reeling from the trauma of experiencing the worst event of my existence.
“Have you heard of God?” She wondered.
My brow quirked. The Balance sighed.
“Wait?” I shook my hand to try and alleviate some of the tremors left over from my fear. “Are you God?”
“No.”
I eyed the little girl, shrewdly.
“In the beginning, I created two children. Life and death.” The Balance continued, ignoring my studying look. “Nova—all that is life—named herself God of all, and grew her own kingdom. The Summerland.”
I knew about the Summerland, it was basically heaven.
“Nova created her Chosen. Angels.”
“And your other child?” I asked.
“Death created a home. A wasteland, where all that perished would eventually go.” The Balance looked sad. “If Nova was the stars, then Death was the darkness in-between. Vast and necessary.”
“Not to be an asshole...” I stated. “But what does this have to do with those massive worms?”
“Death was happy in their domain. They took in all souls that were not Pure enough for Nova. Death rehabilitated them and recycled them.” The child continued speaking as if I hadn’t said anything. “Nova grew jealous of Death. Of their world. Life has no power over Death. No power over the creatures that Death held most dear. Nova created monsters that had no desire but to devour all in their path. She released them into her sibling's home to strip Death of what Nova believed to be her power.”
“Did it work?”
The Balance shook her head. “The Bhakshi and the Shayati did as they were meant to do. They ate their way through all of the souls that Death had in their care. Death's creatures, Demons, were devoured. Few were left.” The world around us melted away, as The Balance manipulated the landscape around us.
We stood once again on the red sands of Wrath, high on the towering dunes, watching a battle between golden-winged angels and great hulking beasts. I could smell the metal in the blood. The rotting meat of the Bhakshi's foul breath.
“Nova believed that she could simply take Death's world, but she could not. Nova’s creations were too powerful. Her only available action was to beat back The Devouring and trap them beneath the sands.”
“But they got out.”
“Powerful things tend to do that.” The child smiled sweetly. “Several millennia after Nova razed her sister’s home, the Demons came back, slowly but surely. Hell flourished once more, but without Death to watch over it, the beasts once again rose to the surface.”
“What happened to Death?”
The little girl's eyes bored into mine. The silver irises had disappeared and been replaced with glowing white. Every color and none at all. Every question and answer that could possibly be pondered waited behind those eyes, like a sleeping tiger.
“Who knows?” The Balance shrugged.
My fists clenched. The Balance seemed very cavalier over the fact that her two creations—her children—created, played with, and destroyed world’s as if it was nothing.
I had never wanted to wake up from a dream before. The world before waking was my domain. Being faced with the physical manifestation of the universe was enough to make me tuck my tail and admit that I wanted to be as far away from possible from a being that could crush me like an ant.
“Thanks for getting rid of that body for me,” I said. My mouth was dry. I licked my lips.
The universe turned away. “I simply asked one of my Hunters to dispose of it.”
“What?” I was horrified. The mental cogs of my mind were sluggish as I pulled a conclusion from the dregs of my mind. “The only Hunter around was Warren Davenport.”
The universe said nothing.
I had so many questions that they threatened to burst from my lips like vomit. Had The Balance made Davenport clean up the corpse? When he had found me, had he known that I had just killed a man?
I forced calm over my face and chose carefully, hoping that Little Miss Wikipedia was feeling generous with answering questions.
“Who summoned the Ifrit?” I asked.
The little girl waggled her finger, the movement, surprisingly, looked like it belonged to a small child. “It is not the destination, but the journey.” She said. Sage advice in a squeaky falsetto voice.
“Send that shit to Hallmark.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You might make a buck or two.”
The Balance shook her head indulgently. “Mara, be patient. When you find the end of this puzzle, you will find yourself.”
I opened my mouth to argue but found myself jerked backward, my world twisted and turned as the dream changed.
I had hoped that The Balance would tell me who had summoned the Ifrit, and how to defeat the damn thing. The ever-present issue was tedious. What was the point of being friends with an all-powerful being if they couldn’t make your life easier?
“Boil the rice, Ahn-Jae.” A soft but stern voice said in Korean. “The foundation of the dish must be strong. Rice is the foundation of Bibimbap. If your foundation is not strong, your house will fall.”
“Yes, Omma.” A tiny voice responded.
The kitchen was made of cheap linoleum and the kind of kitsch accessories that implied poverty, and not style. Tiny touches, a pizza flyer, and a mayo jar on the side, both written in English, told me that even though the older woman and her son were obviously Korean, they lived in an English speaking country.