Chapter 29 – A beautiful lie and a painful truth

Perched atop the ruins surrounding Ulthane’s clearing, Fenja let her gaze wander across the landscape beyond. Of all the desolate lands she had crossed with Fury over the past few weeks, this place remained the only one where nature still seemed to resist the grip of chaos. Here, grass still grew, trees stayed green, and a clear waterfall flowed peacefully, bringing an illusion of life to a broken world. Fury had explained that the demonic presence had wiped out all vegetation elsewhere, but that Ulthane guarded this oasis jealously, protecting his sanctuary like a final bastion against devastation.

Her eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the remnants of a forgotten world faded into the distance. Once again, anxiety clenched her chest. Strife and Idris had returned a few days earlier, to her great relief, and Death had come back just the day before. But Aisling and War were still missing. The waiting gnawed at her. Should she go looking for them? Ask for permission? Since their departure, a heavy weight had settled on her shoulders—a dull, oppressive feeling that never truly left her.

She often thought of Nimrach, of the simple life the three of them had shared before everything had fallen apart. The conversations by the beach where Aisling kept her little personal garden, the early morning hunts to bring meat back to the village, the stories by the fire, the scent of leather, the laughter of a few children and the occasional visitors from neighboring islands. There, there had been no war, no infernal creatures, no decisions heavy with consequence. Just the everyday and its quiet calm.

How had it all changed so brutally?

Night had begun to settle over the clearing, and Fenja was about to head back to Ulthane’s shelter when a movement caught her attention. Near one of the entry points, several silhouettes stood out against the fading light. She squinted. Angels…? Walking beside them, small in comparison, was Aisling, listening intently to one of them as he spoke. War brought up the rear, accompanied by an angelic woman whose presence radiated authority.

Fenja’s heart skipped a beat. She dropped from the top of the ruins and broke into a run, shouting toward Ulthane’s underground forge.

“Idris!! She’s back!”

Her cry tore through the twilight stillness, and she picked up speed, her legs carried by an indescribable sense of relief.

She had barely reached the entrance when Aisling’s eyes found hers, and the young healer quickened her pace to meet her.

“Fen!”

The two friends threw themselves into each other’s arms, breaking into tears under the weight of relief. Moments later, Idris appeared as well and lifted Aisling clean off the ground, laughing with joy.

“Ais! You’re finally back! You really kept us waiting!”

He set her down before pulling both of them into a tight embrace, unable to contain his happiness.

Fenja, however, was quick to notice something strange. She studied Aisling’s face—her drawn features, the gray shadows under her eyes, the gauntness. Her gaze had changed. There was a new gravity in it, a dimmed light, something broken. Idris seemed to sense it too.

“Aisling… What happened?”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

She gave them a tired smile, but Fenja didn’t believe it for a second. The rest of the group reached them.

“I’d like you to meet Uriel and the Hellguard,” Aisling said, turning toward them. “They’re here to help.”

The angels watched the scene with a mix of wonder and relief. Some of them showed genuine emotion at the sight of living humans.

“So there are others…” one of them whispered, awestruck.

“Plenty of others,” Idris confirmed, folding his arms. “Though many of us are still missing.”

“Incredible…”

Uriel looked almost moved as she gazed at Fenja, Idris, and Aisling standing together. She offered a faint smile, seemingly reassured. Death, Fury, Strife, and Ulthane had joined them, their attention fixed on the newcomers. Death was the first to step forward, offering War a simple nod in greeting.

“So, who’s chasing a lost cause now, Uriel?”

“Says the Pale Rider,” the angel replied with a touch of irony. “This isn’t just some mission you’re on. Elemental Essences, restoring Earth, saving Humanity…”

“Speaking of, how’s our little dove doing?”

Strife walked up to Aisling with a mock-casual air, slinging an arm around Idris’s shoulders as he leaned toward her.

“Do we have anything to make a bonfire and celebrate?”

Aisling gave a faint smirk, clearly exhausted but satisfied. With a gesture, she pulled aside the top of her tunic slightly, revealing the red glow running through the roots beneath her collarbones.

Strife spread his arms wide with a burst of laughter.

“Ha ha! One down, three to go! Well done, kid! And you too, War… for actually managing to keep her alive. That’s a miracle!”

He let out a sigh but didn’t comment further. Fury, however, who had been watching Aisling closely, didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“The roots…”

Her voice carried a hint of concern. Fenja followed her gaze and finally saw what she had missed until now. The roots had spread. Deeper, more visible beneath her skin, they now climbed higher than when Aisling had left.

“The Fire Essence fed the seed with its energy,” Ulthane observed as he finally stepped forward, his massive arms crossed over his chest.

His gaze shifted from Aisling to the angels, then to the Horsemen, as if wary that these powerful beings might disturb the peace of his sanctuary.

“I’ll prepare what’s needed to take it out of you, lass,” he added, his tone gruff but attentive. “You two, get her inside.”

Without waiting, Fenja slipped an arm under Aisling’s to support her, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing on her friend. Idris followed closely, staying near them as they headed toward the underground forge, where Ulthane’s chambers and workshops offered a safer shelter.

“Come on, Ais… I bet you’re dreaming of a soft bed after all this,” Fenja murmured, tightening her hold slightly, though she cast a curious glance back at the strange assembly that seemed all too eager to see them go.

The atmosphere felt lighter below. The cool, damp air brought a welcome sense of relief. Fenja sensed Aisling relax a little as they descended the stone stairs, but her mind still seemed clouded.

“Did you discover anything interesting?” the young healer asked, breaking the silence, her gentle voice contrasting with the muffled echo of their footsteps on the rock.

“Fury has the wildest stories about our early days in Nimrach!” Fenja exclaimed, a new energy in her tone. “You’d love them! She’s… inspiring!”

“She’s her new hero…” Idris muttered to Aisling with an amused grin, clearly enjoying the teasing. “She hasn’t left her side since.”

“That’s not true,” Fenja grumbled in response, slipping back into her stoic tone. “More seriously, we explored lands farther east, well beyond the human ruins, looking for signs of the Elemental Essences… but the world is shattered. Dead. Devoured. If they’ve manifested, we haven’t found where yet.”

Despite the faint smile she gave, Aisling seemed to catch the shadow of concern behind her voice.

“Maybe the Essence didn’t lash out… maybe it’s hiding?” the young healer suggested softly.

“Hiding?” Fenja raised an eyebrow.

“Yes… Taming the Elementals seems different from what we might expect. Maybe their behavior varies too? The Fire wanted to be released but needed to be calmed… Maybe one of them doesn’t want to assert itself, but rather to disappear?”

The huntress nodded slowly, considering the possibility.

“Maybe…”

She studied Aisling for a moment, scanning her worn face. No, something had definitely changed in her—not just exhaustion. Something deeper, more unsettling. And Fenja didn’t like it.

“For his part, Death did find signs of a presence that wasn’t angelic or demonic,” Idris added, “but nothing more. Strife and I, on the other hand, brought back a little friend.”

“A friend?” Aisling repeated, intrigued.

“Well… its head, to be exact,” he clarified with a crooked smile. “You’ve got to see it. Coming, Fen?”

“I’ll catch up in a moment,” the huntress suddenly stopped, waving them forward. “I forgot something up top.”

She let them go ahead, descending the stairs toward the underground quarters, then quickly turned on her heel and climbed back toward the surface, making sure to stay as quiet as possible.

When she reached the entrance, she slipped into the underbrush, holding her breath. The main group hadn’t moved. The angels of the Hellguard had stepped aside to begin setting up a camp. Her eyes lingered on the Four, gathered with Uriel and Ulthane, deep in what seemed like a serious conversation.

Something was wrong. And Fenja was determined to find out what.

“Things turned out to be more… complicated than expected,” she eventually heard War say gravely.

“Understatement,” Fury replied, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched. “The girl reeks of power from miles away. Your return must’ve been rough.”

“My men made sure to handle any problems before they could reach us,” Uriel clarified. “And she… she was too absorbed in her training to really notice. She threw herself into it with an intensity that was almost… troubling.”

“Even more of a miracle that she’s still alive,” Strife muttered, a flicker of disbelief in his voice.

Ulthane, who had been listening silently until then, shook his head and crossed his arms.

“That’s why I’m going to remove the Essence,” he stated firmly. “I thought the Seed would be enough to contain its power, but instead, she absorbed it—she harmonized with it. That’s not normal.”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

“War, what exactly happened?” Death asked, breaking the silence with his slow, calculating voice.

The Horseman met his brother’s gaze, hesitating, until Uriel gave him a slight nod.

“The End War is upon us… For real this time. And Humanity is involved.”

Fenja, hidden in the underbrush, felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart skipped a beat, and only her rigorous hunter’s training kept her from stumbling. A cold sensation spread through her, as if all the blood had drained from her body.

“What?” Fury choked out, visibly stunned, her piercing gaze darting between War and Uriel. “Impossible! You saw them yourselves! They’re not ready!”

“They won’t have a choice,” War sighed heavily, his expression grim. “Aisling triggered the hostilities. In the eyes of the Universe, she proved that Humanity would answer the call.”

Strife burst out laughing, incredulous.

“The little dove? Triggering hostilities? Are you serious? We are talking about the same kid, right? She can barely stand!”

War’s gaze darkened.

“She slaughtered an entire contingent of angels, a demon emissary and his court, and a Watcher,” he stated coldly.

The atmosphere froze.

“The Fire Elemental…” Ulthane seemed to understand something.

“Ragel’s disciples had imprisoned him,” War added in a hoarse voice. “Aisling too. Something happened between them, and it completely escalated. I believe both of them were defending themselves, but…”

“…that’s the equivalent of a declaration of war,” Death concluded with a heavy sigh, slowly rubbing his face with a weary expression. “Why didn’t she call me? I left her a way to do it…”

“She couldn’t, my brother,” War slowly shook his head. “Something… someone prevented her.”

“What does that mean?” Fury snapped, impatient.

“She’s had other encounters…” War replied cautiously. “Samael, and… something else.”

“Old Sammy’s still around?” Strife let out a whistle. “What did he want with her?”

“The Yurba Collar,” Uriel replied, her voice betraying contained worry. “And more than that, but…”

She cast a glance toward her soldiers, still stationed a little farther away, as if their mere presence reminded her of the urgency of the situation.

“But we’ll talk about it later.”

“She exhibits other strange abilities, brother,” War turned to Death. “Dreams where she glimpses waves of the future. And something else, a sensitivity I’ve noticed in her fights. I wouldn’t say she predicts incoming blows, but… there’s something.”

“Hmmm… I might know someone…”

“What do we do now?” Fury asked finally, her features drawn between frustration and concern. “We can’t let Humanity engage in this war: they won’t survive it!”

All eyes instinctively turned toward Death. The Horseman didn’t respond immediately, letting a heavy silence hang. His cold, impassive gaze betrayed deep reflection, but his face remained carved in unyielding neutrality.

“Once the realm of men is restored and Humanity is rebuilt, it will no longer be our concern.”

His voice dropped like a blade, sharp and final.

Fenja felt her fists clench. A quiet rage welled up inside her, mingled with dread. He really meant to abandon them like this? It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed a cold detachment in him, but today, it felt much more like indifference… even rejection.

“Death, you can’t be serious!” Fury exclaimed, her voice vibrating with indignation.

She stepped forward, emotion burning in her gaze.

“Abandon them in this war? They don’t stand a chance! You know everything that’s been sacrificed for…”

“Yes, I know.”

Death’s blunt, implacable tone cut off any further protest. Fury froze, her lips tight, as if called to order. Her gaze flared with exasperation for a moment, but she said nothing in reply.

“Don’t let your attachment to them cloud your judgment,” Death continued, his voice growing cold again. “It is not for us to protect them further. They will no longer be our responsibility. They should never have been.”

Strife shook his head, clearly disagreeing.

“A little late to wash your hands of it now, don’t you think?” He crossed his arms, his tone tinged with bitterness. “You saw it yourself, they’re not enough and they’re not ready. A single squad of the Hellguard could wipe them off the map in twenty minutes. And besides, you don’t know them like we do, Death. They never asked for any of this. They have no idea what’s waiting for them. They deserve our help.”

The Pale Rider said nothing, merely turning his head slowly toward War.

“And you, brother? You have nothing to say…”

War remained silent for a moment, his brow slightly furrowed, weighing his words carefully.

“They are as much victims as we are of the Council’s machinations and all those who work in the shadows,” he finally declared, his voice deep, resonating like a judgment. “What Balance will we restore if they are annihilated the moment they reclaim their kingdom?”

“You’re idiots…” Death’s voice cracked, brutal.

Fury and Strife exchanged a glance but said nothing. The weight of the conversation fell on them, heavy and uncomfortable. Up until then, Ulthane had remained in the background, but now he stepped forward.

“There’s still work to be done before we get there. You don’t forge a blade without first lighting the forge, Horsemen,” he said gravely. “There are other Essences to recover if you want to restore this world.”

“And perhaps your answers will appear by themselves…” added Uriel, her piercing gaze steady. “The Ardent Council and those who orchestrated your downfall will not sit idly by. The idea of you returning their kingdom to the humans will not sit well with them.”

Death let out a weary sigh, as if all of this were a burden. He swept the air with a vague gesture.

“You’re all missing the point. Your guilt blinds you,” he finally spat, his tone laced with almost contemptuous detachment. “We’re already doing more than our part: we won’t go beyond that. Ulthane, take the Fire Essence from the girl… we’ll see what happens after.”

He didn’t seek to continue the discussion. Without another glance, he turned on his heel and walked away. No one attempted to stop him. Strife, however, couldn’t help but mutter, half to himself, in a sarcastic tone.

“We can agree he’s getting worse with age…”

“Go say that to his face,” Fury snapped sharply.

Strife placed a hand on his heart in a mock dramatic gesture.

“Sister, you wound me… For once we agreed on something!”

“He’s got something in mind,” concluded War, fixing his gaze intensely on his older brother as he walked away, as if trying to understand, but finding no answers.

Uriel briefly placed a hand on his shoulder before heading back toward her soldiers. Ulthane, for his part, resumed his path toward the forge, followed by the three Horsemen.

Fenja, hidden in the shadows of the tall grass and foliage, waited until the group disappeared into the entrance of the underground before finally daring to move. So, the war was truly upon them… and Aisling had brought it right to their doorstep. She struggled to believe it. Aisling… the gentlest, kindest soul she knew. A healer, not a warrior. A clumsy young woman, sometimes reckless, but never violent. Never. How could she have been the cause of all this?

Fenja felt her stomach knot as memories of the attack on Nimrach flooded back to her. If a war was to come, humanity could not face it alone. The angels and demons who had attacked had wiped out their lives in the span of a lifetime. How could they possibly claim to enter a cosmic war that the other two sides had been preparing for millennia? And why was Death refusing to let the Horsemen take part?

Should she talk to Idris? No. Bad idea. He and so many others were just waiting for an excuse to rush into battle, lulled by heroic illusions. But Fenja knew what war truly cost. The very thought of Idris going into battle made her catch her breath. A dizzying wave came over her. Flames. Screams. And her father’s body, lying in the dust, surrounded by a devouring blaze. A cold shiver ran through her. No… This could never happen.

Fenja had never liked conflict. Idris excelled at it, and Aisling knew how to defuse tensions with diplomacy, but Fenja usually just turned away. Too much energy wasted on pointless clashes. But this time, there was no Idris to defend her, no Aisling to act as the mediator. This time, she had no choice.

Without thinking, she leapt out of her hiding spot, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She rushed toward Death and stopped just a few steps behind him. A mere distance, in light of the chasm that truly separated them.

“You can’t abandon us!”

The Horseman barely turned, casting a brief glance over his shoulder.

“Eavesdropping? I’ve crucified people for less.”

The threat was not veiled. Yet, Fenja did not step back.

“If you don’t help us, we’re all going to die.”

Death raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Everything dies one day, human… It’s the way of things.”

Fenja felt her stomach tighten. She knew that Death was not known for his compassion, but… this cold indifference, this total detachment, made her sick.

“How can you say that as if it’s nothing? My entire people could disappear. My race could go extinct. And you… nothing?”

A silence. Then, slowly, Death turned to her, his eyes a bottomless void.

“You have no idea how many races I’ve seen disappear over the centuries… and the role I’ve played in their end, almost systematically.”

Not a confession. Just a statement. Cold, implacable.

“When Earth is returned to you, and human souls return to their cycle, the Horsemen will have restored the Balance.”

And as if that settled the matter, he turned away again. Fenja shook her head, incredulous. Was this their sacred mission? To erase the damage and walk away?

“So that’s it? You’ll restore Humanity just to correct War’s mistake for the Apocalypse—”

She didn’t have time to finish. Death spun around abruptly, his shadow stretching around him like a tangible threat.

“Watch your tongue, huntress,” his voice carried the sharpness of a blade just drawn. “My brother has paid enough for a crime he didn’t commit. Once Humanity is restored to Balance, the debts will be erased.”

Fenja felt her heart hammering in her chest.

“And you really think the Council will forgive you? Pretend like nothing happened?”

A sinister smile.

“Oh… I’m not counting on their forgiveness,” something darkened in his gaze. “We still have those debts to settle. But I won’t expose my brothers and sister to a fight we were never meant to be anything more than arbiters of.”

Fenja finally understood. This wasn’t indifference.

“You’re doing this to protect them…”

Death turned his eyes away, fixing on some invisible point.

“Twice, I’ve chosen Humanity over my own kind… and I don’t regret it. But there will be no third time.”

Fenja felt her throat tighten.

“You’re doing this for your family. I’m doing this for mine. Aisling is dying, and I’m not just talking about those roots under her skin. What she’s going through… it’s changing her.”

“It’s called growing up, huntress. Innocence must die. You’ll go through it too.”

A croak split the air. The Horseman’s raven swooped down, flapping its wings before landing on his shoulder. Death absentmindedly stroked its dark feathers, then looked up at Fenja.

“We’ll have company soon. Let’s go down… before your friend causes another catastrophe.”

Fenja gritted her teeth.

“Her name is Aisling. Not ‘your friend,’ not ‘the girl.’ Aisling.”

“That remains to be seen. She’ll be the one who led Humanity into the End War,” his gaze darkened, a fleeting thought crossing his mind. “I was named Kinslayer for what I did to my own race… So, I wonder… what name will they give her when all this is over?”

Fenja felt something break inside her. She wanted to scream, to prove he was wrong, that he was blinded by his own shadows. But no words came.

“Why are you so cruel?”

A silence. Death stopped just before the entrance to the underground. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward her. What she saw in his eyes struck her more than his words. He looked old. Exhausted. Worn down by the weight of ages.

“I’m not,” his voice was low, almost weary. “Life is just a beautiful lie…”

The raven on his shoulder stirred, letting out a harsh cry. Death took a deep breath.

“And I… a painful truth.”

Without another word, he vanished into the shadows of the underground, leaving Fenja alone with the vast emptiness that gnawed at her heart.

“But how could we change a painful truth… if we stop believing in beautiful lies?” she murmured, uncertain if he could hear her.