No time was wasted when the morning came. Vera woke them with the clashing of her knives against a helmet, and forced Snow back into her poor clothing, throwing them both onto the back of her cart with her crates of cabbage, melons, and many carrots.

  “Touch my carrots and die,” Vera snickered. “If hunger has you by the balls, crack open a melon and eat one of those.”

  “Some of these are rotten,” Death said. “I will not eat rot.”

  “Eh, who cares, the vendor I sell them to won’t complain about a few rotting fruits. Caron is a twenty-minute straight ride to the east; we’ll be there before your morning stiffness goes limp.”

  “I do not get morning stiffness,” Death snarled.

  “Whatever you say. All men who can get it, always do, I haven’t met a soul who differs.”

  “First time for everything,” he said. “We are travelling by cart. Snow, what about your horse?”

  “People are kind to Esroh,” Snow yawned. “People surrender plenty of carrots, and that horse stays where the food is. She’ll be fine.”

  Death gave a grunt of acceptance.

  “What’s the story behind the scar on your back?” Snow asked.

  “Huh?” Vera seemed anxious at the mention. “Oh… well it’s an embarrassing story for me to tell but if I’m going to devote my life to serving you two, no harm in telling.”

  “Well, are you going to tell us?” Death said after a stale silence. “I’m not often intrigued, but now you’ve caught my attention.”

  “I was a horrid child,” Vera admitted. “I discovered my gifts of quickness almost immediately; didn’t take long for me to find I had two daggers bound to my summons. I took my first life when I was twelve, some drunk outside my father’s home trying to collect some debt he owed… stabbed him thousands of times until you couldn’t even recognise it was a corpse. I enjoyed it, the warm splashes of blood just made me feel home. My father, he did not agree. He took me to my room and cast me to the floor, tore open the back of my dress and whipped me with a chain for hours. I never understood why he did it for so long, until I looked in a mirror, expecting to see ugly gashes and my body scarred, but it was smooth and clear. I felt angry that my own father would try and torture me rather than help me understand the powers I was growing into. I went into his bed in the middle of the night, my mother snoring as she always did. She must’ve heard my breathing, of course she did, she’s the one who gave me my ears. I saw fear in her eyes, and I didn’t wait to let them calm me down. I raised both daggers above their heads, and I took both their lives.”

  “Doesn’t explain the scar,” Death mumbled.

  Snow hit his elbow. “Don’t be rude!” she squeaked. “That’s not how you talk to someone telling their tale.”

  “Morning came and there was a knock at my door, obviously the men in iron suits saw the blood from my actions. They entered, found the corpses of my parents and the sack of meat from the drunk, and drew their swords against me without stopping to ask what happened. I mean, it was me, but it stung that I couldn’t hide it well. They attacked me, and I fought back, I killed them all one by one, but they just kept on coming—I stayed in my home, unsure where to go, eventually they sent in the Valan royalty.”

  “Seriously?” Snow asked. “How did they get there so fast?”

  “I used to live in Vatanil, the Capital Kingdom of Valan, that’s why it was fast. It was one of the blue-haired ones, many said it was the youngest prince Stroke. I was cocky, knowing my body was strong against attacks, so I took my knife and aimed for his liver. He smacked down, the pain still haunts me. I remember his smirk as I turned my head and saw him swing for me with a sickle. It sliced me deep, the scar you see now is where he got me. I ran, he never chased me. I left the city, sprinted through dozens of towns, just kept on running until I collapsed and almost died from blood loss. It’s embarrassing that I was defeated in such a way, even more so that I fled like a coward. I never bothered to check, but I bet there’s a large bounty for me on many of the bounty boards of Vatanil… if I ever step foot in that city, I will likely die.”

  “That’s so sad,” Snow whispered.

  “Yes, very tragic,” Death sighed. “Is that the gates to the town? Did twenty minutes pass by in a blink or are your horses the fastest in the nations?”

  “My horses are fast,” she said. “And I also guessed the time, I don’t know how long the ride is, I suppose it’s not twenty after all.”

  They passed the inspections of the gate. A few guards gave a suspicious glance to Death and Snow, but they were let through with no issues. Vera sold her crates to a vendor for three golden coins, then took them to a library, where the elderly librarian woman gave Vera a hug and greeted the other two with soggy kisses on their cheeks.

  “Are you looking for Willie?” the librarian said.

  “I—uh—excus—huh?” Snow squeaked.

  “Willie, my grandson.”

  “Oh!” Snow exclaimed, relieved. “Is that who we’re looking for, Vera?”

  “He’ll be in the basement,” Vera said. “He never leaves there.”

  “If you want any milk and cookies, give me a shout!” offered the librarian. “I’ll be right here!”

  “What a nice old woman,” Snow whispered.

  “Yeah, she’s basically my mother,” Vera admitted. “Told her I was an orphan, Willie knows my story, thinks it’s cool.”

  “It is cool,” Willie interrupted. He was average in every regard. Brown hair, brown eyes, no scars, a face Death would soon forget. “I assume you’re looking for knowledge.”

  “Willie buys and steals every book he can get his fingers on. Brings them down here, says the soldiers can’t hide away the truth if he has every book in existence.”

  “You’ll thank me when they start burning the grand libraries in the cities and towns!” he exclaimed. “This basement isn’t registered to exist in any plans… if they burn the books above, the ones below will keep on turning their pages.”

  “Yes, very nice,” Death scoffed. “Can you help us or not? Where are these ‘books’ you claim to keep safe?”

  “A precaution,” he said, pushing into the wall. It opened and revealed many shelves of scrolls, novels, ancient paintings, anything Willie deemed needed protecting. “What fits your fancy?”

  “The extinction of the succubi,” Vera answered. “This is Death, that’s Snow, they think there could still be one roaming.”

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  “Just one?” Willie said. “Impossible. Let me guess, guilty until proven innocent?”

  “Yeah,” said Vera. “They told me one is still alive, so now in my mind one is alive, until someone proves to me it’s untrue.”

  “I think impossible proves it’s untrue.”

  “Not to me, Willie, go and get the book.”

  He searched through his archives and carried a book half the size of Vera’s body to a strong oak table. He turned the pages, Death saw many depictions of wars, scribblings of succubi and knights facing each other in battles. He took in every face he saw, none matching the one from his memory.

  “Here we go,” Willie said. “Three thousand two hundred and twenty-seven years ago, the Great Extinction of the succubi, is this what you want to know about?”

  “Yes,” Death scoffed. “Spare no detail. I must know everything that happened.”

  Willie blew dust off the table and lit a candle, bringing chairs for them all to sit and reading it like telling a children’s tale.

  “It all began in the nation of Naveen, a cold and stormy night where even the warmth of a castle made the royalty shiver. The war itself began with one single cough, coming from the lips of the little Prince Rall Naveen, aged four, the only heir to the nation as all of his older brothers died through various accidents, and the king’s wife passed away birthing this final son. The king grew desperate as his little son grew weaker and thinner, and soon the little late Prince of Naveen succumbed to an illness, one unnatural, one that turned his skin purple with yellow blisters. Upon cutting open his tiny chest they found fungus in his lungs, roots in his kidneys, maggots in his stomach, consuming all food the little prince tried to eat for energy. ‘Witchraft!’ the king screamed. ‘My little boy has been killed by an evil witch! Summon the mightiest warrior, the fiercest fighter, bring them all to me!’ he screamed louder. Dozens of the most intelligent and skilled individuals gathered at the table of the prince’s body. The strongest of them all determined ‘twas not witchcraft, but the work of a demon. At the root of the prince’s death, deep in the tissue of his heart, a tiny flake of obsidian, pulsing with magic… the man crushed the flake in his palm, a demonic cackle shook the castle, and the potent stench of succubi blood flooded the room.

  Word spread of this faster than fire in a forest. Nations recalled their embassies from Naveen, and fingers were pointed at every nation with a demon-blooded family member.

  The king grew spiteful, angry, he sent the mightiest warrior that discovered the obsidian to the neighbouring nation of Dastane to kidnap a princess mothered by a succubus, a cambion. He infiltrated the castle like a shadow, and found the young Princess Mella alone in her chambers, painting a portrait of little Prince Rall, a boy she’d met a handful of times, but remembered every detail of his face. It was intended as a gift for the king, a way to show that she was horrified of the news, and that she condemned the wicked acts… it was at that moment the mighty warrior was struck with confusion. He expected a red-skinned devil, horned and tailed, reeking of evil, wings, sharp teeth, everything related to a cambion… but he was met with a smile without malice, gentle eyes with no fear, the only reason he knew this was his target was her left eye, which was black and red. She invited him in, unaware of his order to kidnap, and she never did get taken, because this mighty warrior gave her throat a wide red smile.

  There was an outcry, war was waged the same day, the king gave an order to kill every succubus to live… and they accepted this as a challenge, cracking open the earth of Naveen, a chasm of blood and fire straight to Hell. The site still exists today, the portal sealed, known as the Naveen Hell Oasis. Millions of demons came from the hole, millions of humans raised their swords. The length of the battle is disputed, with the shortest being an hour, and the longest being eleven days… the Battle of Human Hell. Magical arrows flew, a mountain of bodies formed, the demons lost, but in truth both sides suffered defeat. All branches of Naveen royalty perished at the battle, and who was left to pick up the crown? The mighty warrior that discovered the obsidian, killed the princess, he put it atop his head and claimed ownership. Some hated this, and many accounts surfaced with accusations: some claim he crafted the illness that took the prince himself; some claim he orchestrated the whole war to take power; some call all prior accusations pointless, and that the royalty simply died of their own ego.”

  “That’s… I’ve never heard the tale in that much detail,” Snow said. “A horrible story… those poor children, suffering because of power.”

  Death was unimpressed by the tale and was annoyed that he was sealed during what sounded like a spectacle to witness. “Not a single Succubus survived this war?”

  “Not one,” Willie said.

  “And they never repopulated? The process of succubi breeding is quite a complicated process, surely you know there are powers that can directly corrupt the blood of humans, cambions, anything with human blood, and rewrite their soul? Did no one create more, did the incubi not mass breed cambions with their stockpile of stolen seed and seek ways to re-strengthen?”

  “Incubi extinction was hand-in-hand with succubi extinction. I don’t think you understand the scale of this war, all demon-blooded answered the call from Hell, none hid from battle. Cambions nearly went extinct, the demon race nearly perished. As far as we know it, Hell could be a barren wasteland, no portals have opened since the war. Demon-bloods are now rare, one hasn’t been sighted in Valan for two hundred years, and the one they did see got killed.”

  That bitch must’ve been amongst the battle, Death thought. but if so, surely the scarred man would’ve aided her, and with my powers stolen he should’ve won… even if she was there on her own, she can only be killed by me, she would’ve won for her side against all strength. I can only conclude that she wasn’t at this battle… but why? Why wasn’t she there? “This mighty hero that took power, his name?”

  Willie scanned the page. “Barro Kan,” he said.

  Barro Kan… this could be the scarred man.

  “…deceased,” Willie continued.

  Ah, I supposed not then.

  “Died of old age, lived to ninety-nine. His line continues today, the Kan name is one I know—Naveen boasts their strongest fighter, Lumi Kan, the heir of a power that lets her become one with the shadows… Naveen used to be glorious, now it is the worst nation, too few to reform an army and grow food, too many to feed, the end result? Widespread cannibalism. Even their royalty partakes in the feasting of human flesh, they call it a delicacy.”

  “Is there any mention of a scarred man in any wars?”

  “Plenty of scars,” Willie nodded.

  “A scar on the eye.”

  “Hair colour? Eye colour? Anything else?”

  Death thought hard. For some reason, all he could remember was the scar, and nothing else.

  “I can’t help you with just that,” Willie said. “There’s too many people who would fit the vagueness of an eye scar.”

  Death grabbed Willie’s head and slammed it against the table. “Useless piece of filth,” he scoffed, grabbing Snow and leaving with her. “I never should’ve come here.”

  “Oh,” Snow whimpered, flustered by his touch. “We’re sorry! We thank you for the tale!”

  Vera apologised to Willie and gave him one of the golden coins. He insisted she keep it, and that the slam didn’t hurt, but his broken nose and shaking hand said otherwise.

  “What the fuck was that?” Vera yelled, chasing after them into the streets. “Not sufficient enough for you?”

  Death got close to Vera and jabbed a finger into her neck. “You are not useful to me, do you understand? You want to serve, but I do not want incompetence, my time was wasted and the only thing I know is that the succubus I am hunting survived this extinction, which I already knew.”

  “Just, stop,” Vera begged. “Why do you know she’s alive?”

  “Because at the peak of my power I made it so only I could kill and injure her. I was sealed; she was physically unable to die.”

  “We’re sorry,” Snow whimpered. “Tell your friend that he did well, but he’s not what we need.”

  “I can still help,” Vera said. “I don’t want to be useless. There are books in the Great Lizard Hall even older than the ones Willie has, ones that have information he doesn’t know… ancient scrolls, ones that could have information you need. Give me another chance to prove I can be useful. They are guarded but we can infiltrate and read what we need.”

  Snow looked up at Death with loving eyes, the decision was his.

  “One chance,” he snarled. “If there is nothing of worth, this will end, no more alliance, and I will kill you.”

  “You’ll kill me?” she whimpered. Even though she was stronger than Death currently, her instincts told her to follow his order. “If there is nothing in those shelves… I’ll give you my life, let you have my power… that’s how confident I am there will be something of use to you there.”

  “Thank you,” Snow said, shushing Death. “Let’s make a plan.”