“Janka, one of his most trusted confidants, seized control of the Morarke project the Almighty was working on. They’ve turned against the Almighty and begun their own apocalypse.”
“A plan to overthrow the Almighty Himself?” Myor said, as though he was musing on the idea. “Something not even the Leader was bold enough to attempt. It will be so interesting to see how all this unfolds.”
“From your throne?” Kinzer asked. “I can’t imagine a throne is worth much when you’re not even willing to take up a sword to defend it.”
Myor rolled his eyes and kicked his head back. “Oh, we are weary of fighting. Tired of choosing sides. We have come to terms with our fate. Those who haven’t, have abandoned this place to seek alliances with neighboring cities. But my new friend, Kinzer, what’s the difference between leaving here and fighting to the death or staying here and letting those monsters lay waste to us, as they will anyway? The outcome is the same.”
“It’s the difference between dying with honor and dying without it.”
Myor’s eyes narrowed. “Honor? What does that even mean? I’m not sure any of us can die with any sort of honor after all the time, all the atrocities we’ve committed in these long lives riddled with mistakes and bloodshed. No. Dying with honor means something to the mortals—fools that they are. They die with honor, and for what? They think there is some great palace that awaits them where they will just experience some esoteric idea of eternal bliss. Really, it’s a fairly boring image most have of something as truly remarkable as Heaven. Mortals make immortality seem so drab, don’t you agree? What is Heaven without the parties? Without the orgies? Without the constant, delicious, and excruciating fucking? I guess that’s all you can expect from creatures with such primitive libidos.”
Kinzer grunted. He wasn’t interested in debating philosophy with some nutjob of Hell’s underworld.
“I see I am already wearing your patience thin, Kinzer, so, Quintz, I will ask you to get to the point. What has brought you to my rather magnificent abode? Certainly it isn’t to ask me to take up arms and fight with you. As you know, I was always one for money and never one for war.”
“Yes, I’m more than aware,” Quintz said. “I’m not here to ask you to fight, but to help me track down a portal to Earth.”
“Why would you come to me for that?” Myor asked, rolling his eyes, though it was clear it was more an overdramatic act than anything else. “I wouldn’t know how to get to Earth. The Council certainly wouldn’t approve of me knowing of such things.”
“Excuse me,” Quintz said. “Forgive me for not forgetting about your illegal trade of sinsand into the mortal realms.”
Sinsand was a powerful immortal drug, crafted to provide immortals with the utmost pleasure.
“You are forgiven, but unfortunately, as much as I would love to help you, the portals we would use are in Renovere, which has already been taken by the Morarkes, and as I’m sure you know, to enter a city under the control of those beasts would be suicide.”
“And you don’t know of any other way?” Quintz pressed, as though he knew better.
Myor stared him down.
“I personally do not. However, I have some contacts who may know of a way—one in particular—but if I give you his information, then I would expect payment.”
“Name your price,” Quintz said without flinching. “I can give you far more money than you realize.”
Myor shook his head. “It’s not money I’m interested in. Not at the end of times. What good could that do me?” He glanced Kinzer over. “Some time with this one will suffice.”
“Why him? Why not me?”
“I need a new feather for my throne.”
“I don’t have any to give you,” Kinzer said. “My wings were totally removed at the base.”
“Oh, someone must’ve really had it in for you, I guess. But that’s fine. There is something about you that I find exciting. Perhaps it’s the scowl you seem to be most comfortable wearing. I’m eager to be the one to remove it, if even for a moment.”
“That’s fine with me,” Kinzer said.
Quintz turned to Kinzer, his brows pulling together. “Kinzer, you can’t—”
“I won’t fight you on this, Quintz. If he wants something as unfulfilling as this body, then it’s his. I think the only reason he wants to play with it is because he knows I’m not likely to heal as fast as an immortal. Does that turn you on, Myor? Knowing that you can really do some damage?”
Myor’s lips curled upward in one corner. There was something wicked about the expression, but playful at the same time. “Only if it turns you on, Kinzer.” And the way he said it, Kinzer believed him.
“Then let’s go.”
Myor leaned forward in the throne and rested his cheek in his palm, his playful expression as interested as ever. “But there is the problem of you not having any feathers for my collection, so I will need to add that flit to the mix. He intrigues me.”
“No!” Kinzer exclaimed.
“Now he intrigues me even more,” Myor added, his smile broadening. “With his consent, of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
