Sylia, the Dark & Light Saint

November of the Sainted Year (Second Civil Month) - Present Day

Sylia rose just an hour before dawn. She'd be late for the big day if she wasn't careful. Today was Revenge Day. She couldn't miss it.

The room had expanded again overnight, and as she looked around it, she smiled. Yes, last night had been wild. She might have overdone it. And it was entirely Tamren's fault.

The man was now fast asleep, snuggled against one of her Divisions. She'd dumped him there just to slip out of bed herself. For now, he didn't seem to realize the difference but he might soon. Sensitive bastard. Still, she smiled. She may have over-spoiled him. That was fine. He'd always amused her, and she did tease him a lot.

She sighed.

She needed to throw out all the sleeping men—and a few who were still awake, tangled up in bed with her Divisions. She regretted not having used more Time-Spells., but she'd been cautious. Masha and her Goddesses were always watching. And then there was Grenar or rather, the thing living inside Grenar's body. That one might be particularly sensitive to Time changes.

She still had to order them breakfast and relocate them all to a house big enough to hold them—and there were over a dozen of them. Then she needed to check on her other boyfriends. And after that, she had to go make breakfast for the Slum kids, as promised. They knew she was leaving soon—first for a while, then for good. She'd given them that much assurance.

Maybe she'd stick around longer after all.

Tamren had made it very clear last night how desperate he was to keep her. She could at least stay long enough to grant him his wish. The children would be happy too. She was certain Mathias was going to purge the Slums in the most ruthless way. He wouldn't have summoned two Pieces of himself if he hadn't meant to go through with it.

Sending for Mathissizar, the Chipmuck, had been a nice touch. Julend and Kuschiel had been so surprised.

Sylia had been lucky to get a warning from her Source. They'd combined their Chipmuck Dark Dolls to go meet Mathissizar. Her Source had cackled, saying she knew he'd always loved that Doll. And suddenly, just like that, he had lost all interest in this place and gone off to play with the Doll instead. They went off to some dangerous planes crawling with Demons.

Sylia smiled. Mathissizar would probably be kept busy for a good while torturing the few Fallen Gods that lingered there. She didn't feel an ounce of remorse. He had dropped by unannounced, after all and she already had enough on her plate.

Anyway, it was her mission. She wanted to take her time. With his powers, he'd likely make things too easy.

Now she only had to entertain the most dangerous Piece of Mathias: Matissio.

Matissio was usually a nightmare. Her Source had learned that firsthand. She had to be careful, or some of her boyfriends might leave her for him. That Division had that much charisma and charm. He was also far too flexible with gender preferences. Not that Sylia thought he stood a chance against her. He was still mostly uninterested in sex, even at his very advanced age. He grew bored of it quickly. Alarmingly so.

No, Matissio was more interested in play, or research, as he called it.

Sylia, on the other hand, like her Source, was committed to living life to the fullest, even if it brought danger.

Matissio? Never. He would never risk his own person.

Not all his Divisions were like that. It had always fascinated her Source how different they could be. He was truly as complex as she was simple.

***

That morning, several people across the Region had a harsh awakening. Some felt briefly reassured. Sylan Syrmundi was among the latter. He nearly leapt with joy when Grenar's message arrived shortly before dawn. Everything had gone according to plan, Grenar claimed. Sylia would be extracted that very day.

Sylan silently thanked the Lords and Spirits. But his joy was short-lived. Within a few hours, word spread that the entire small army of Greesham the traitor had been wiped out—by just two people. The soldiers had been whispering about it in hushed tones ever since.

Inside the city walls, Dio Krevoski-Sigmund stretched out his back. It had been a long night. He was far too old for this. Every time their woman started acting out, things got wild. She always got too excited. He was glad his brother, Gyuntez Sigmund, hadn't fared much better. The man looked utterly wrecked.

He couldn't really blame him. Whenever Sylia started getting worked up, their bodies started giving out. Gyuntez must've had it the worst, being used to his dainty wives these days.

Gyuntez groaned, voice hoarse. "Has she gone mad? She created a Nights Semi-Enclave right in the middle of the city. This is Master Mathias' territory!"

Dio's other brother, Guntaz, chuckled. "What are you talking about? This was planned from the start. It's good news for us. Well, maybe not for you, but it comes at just the right time. Dio's kids need a hideout too. A few of them already used their powers. They can't stay here long now."

Dio sighed. "What about Syliamor? My granddaughter's not exactly in Master Mathias' good graces. Her father, Dreneckwan, already fell to Malevolence. And from what I've seen, she's started acting out against Mathias himself. I love that girl, I do but if she keeps pushing like this, we may all be executed. The people she's defying are far too powerful."

Gyuntez stared at him, shocked. He never thought Dio would say something so heartless.

Dio frowned. "Don't look at me like that, Gyuntez. Do you even know what my children and I have gone through? Maybe because the Division she was born from was unstable, and my son's Malevolence was too high, she's put us in danger more than once. She keeps losing control of her powers."

Guntaz stepped in. "The decision's already been made. She'll be divided into five parts, and each one will be remade into a more stable person. If nothing is done, she'll become a Source of Malevolence. One of the Dark Lord's Crows will come to make the changes. You'll be in charge of the least stable version—the one that most resembles her now. They want to test that part before deciding how to reconstruct it."

Gyuntez snapped. "Have you lost your mind?"

Guntaz raised an eyebrow. "Have I? Do you really want a Malevolent Goddess running loose?"

Gyuntez staggered back. "What?"

Guntaz sighed. "I guess they made you forget. Unless it's a side effect of those pacts you made. They'll probably cut thousands of pieces from her before they even get to the Mortal part. And even that part will still be nearly as powerful as a Celestial. They'll decide which fragments are salvageable as a simple Mortal. She's not like us—not just a Mortal Soul."

Gyuntez stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dio exhaled slowly. "I was surprised too, Gyuntez. Some of Sylia's main Divisions give birth to children with a dual nature. What we see is only one part—the Mortal side. The main essence is born in the Spiritual World. Thankfully, that's not true for most of her children. Some are only born here, and they're weaker. But Syliamor… she's strong enough to end half the world if she falls to Malevolence. The Gods won't risk the entire Realm for one being already considered doomed."

He looked at his brother, voice hardening. "You never understood their will. I didn't either, not for a long time. Your kind of mercy and theirs are not the same. Yours would get us all killed. Theirs might save what's left. You were always the type to play with fire and act surprised when it burned you. I gave that up long ago. I can't walk that path again."

Dino's son, Gyundon, folded his arms. "Father, what should we do now? My wife was involved in the last scheme. She was manipulated by Grenek."

Gyuntez paled. "What?"

Gyundon continued, calm but firm. "Grenek was doing Grenar's dirty work again. He was captured yesterday. Sylia's planning to salvage whatever she can from Grenar and the others whose Souls have already been nearly devoured by the Gods. Half of yours is already gone which is why you can't walk with us anymore. Father lost a large part too, but they're trying to regenerate his. His case was circumstance. Yours was choice. Sylia's given up on seeing the real you again. There's just not enough of you left."

Gyuntez' voice dropped. "What the hell are you saying?"

Guntaz cut in. "There's no use crying over the past. He's happy now and he can spend the last years he has left with the woman he loves. If he strays, Gyundar and I will end him."

Gyuntez looked at his brother, shaken. Guntaz wasn't joking.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"How long do I have?" he murmured.

"It's hard to say." Guntaz replied. "Sylia's been trying to feed you Divine Mana compatible with your condition. But they couldn't extract that Worm completely. If they had, it would've shattered your Soul. They only managed to partially seal it. And honestly? I think Sylia's tired of trying. You look at her like she's a worm but you're the actual worm. She has to destroy half the Divisions she sends you because they come back contaminated. I don't think she'll keep doing it much longer."

***

Kuschiel and Julend were just glad Sylia had at least given them a decent breakfast. She had ignored them the night before, but they had expected that much. Still, they had managed to spend most of the night dancing and messing around. Kuschiel could tell Julend was still frustrated, though.

"I have to meet my uncle soon." Kuschiel said, already planning how to escape. "We're even supposed to have breakfast in that new sector he'll be working from. I'll pack some food. I don't want to be too full when we sit down. What about you?"

"Don't even talk to me about it." Julend grumbled. "I've got a double date. I have to see my fiancée first, then the one that woman arranged for me. First one probably just wants money, not sex."

Kuschiel grimaced. "How the hell did you end up in that mess?"

Julend cursed under his breath. "Stupid pact with Tasha. I don't mind screwing my girlfriend, but the other one? I might have to do something violent. She smells like rotten slime. I don't know what the hell's inside that body, but it's bad. Really bad."

Kuschiel sighed. He understood what that meant.

"Can't you just avoid her?"

"Are you kidding? Mathias wants her bound to the Spiritus he stuck on me. That's probably why Sylia's been avoiding me too. Bet he stuck one on you as well."

Kuschiel pressed his lips together. Julend wasn't wrong.

Julend leaned back, eyes narrowed. "Don't you think that Chipmuck Lord was absolutely adorable? I nearly fell out of my chair when I heard he was related to Master Mathias."

Kuschiel nodded slowly. "Yeah. He really was. And there's not a single adorable thing about Master Mathias."

"Is that so?" said a deep voice right behind them.

Both brothers jumped, instantly stiffening as they felt two invisible hands settle on their shoulders. They started trembling before even turning around.

Mathias Herves materialized with a wide, gleaming smile, staring not at them but at their almost untouched breakfast. With a casual wave of his hand, he rearranged the table and slid them around to face him. Then he helped himself to most of the food. What was left for them wouldn't fill a squirrel.

Still smiling, he looked up at them. "So, what were you saying about me?"

Julend didn't blink. "Nothing, sir. Please enjoy your breakfast. I need to get started on the tasks you gave me."

Mathias tilted his head. "You were talking about my sibling Division. How adorable he is. While I, apparently, don't have a single adorable bone in my body."

Julend broke into a sweat and shook his head quickly, but Mathias just smiled deeper.

"No, go on. It's true—we're very different. He's a Chipmuck, and I'm a Fire-Blood Chipmuck Knight. Still, we come from the same source. Just… different aspects. You know how Divisions are."

Julend blinked.

Mathias nodded, thoughtful. "Some Divisions are built from the pieces we absorb. Others are built with some assistance. That one, my adorable sibling, was created with the power of two very powerful beings. They wanted a Division that looked like the Original. The latter prefers companions that complete him—not ones that copy him."

Kuschiel stayed quiet, but Julend's eyes were already wide.

"I burn things down." Mathias continued easily. "That one? He plays with bad Demons. And tortures Divine Beings."

Julend suddenly felt like he didn't want to know more but his brother leaned forward like a fool.

Mathias looked pleased. "The Demons adore him. Literally. They call him 'Adorable' too. It's built into them. You either worship that Division… or you die. And they genuinely love the Creation-Blood Drinks he brews. I nearly forgot—he's a major Demon Maker. Has whole races of his own. Some of them are so horrifying they strike fear into even the worst things."

Julend swallowed hard and kept trembling.

"As for me," Mathias added, now dabbing his mouth with one of their napkins, "I specialize in Angels. Dragons. Most Celestials, really."

Kuschiel blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Mathias sighed. "I've always had trouble making tiny humans like you. It's like asking someone who can conjure castles with a flick of a hand to start crafting little needles for intelligent chipmunks. Well… maybe not that bad. I speak from experience. Chester once found a bunch of them and asked me to make them needles so he could watch them knit him a sweater. By hand. Normal thread. Normal needles."

He paused, then added with a dry smile. "Only later did I learn the chipmunks were actually Rage Demon Gods he'd trapped in those bodies. And the task was impossible on purpose."

Julend swallowed hard.

"One of them still succeeded." Mathias went on, almost annoyed. "It got bloody after that. Even I thought Chester overdid it until I found out what those three had been up to. The worst part? Chester knew one of them would succeed. It was a trap. He just wanted to see which one would break first and admit guilt."

He leaned back slightly, eyes distant. "The vain one gave himself up right away, thinking he'd get praise for it. Well, he didn't get any praise but definitely got something."

Julend and Kuschiel didn't say a word. The sweat was already running down their backs. They both knew this was going to be a long, long morning.

***

Grenar Krevoski and his wife, Tasha Bimal, woke before dawn. The bath had already been drawn—hot, which was rare enough in the Slums—and this morning there were two bathtubs in the apartment. One of the bathtubs hadn't even been there the night before. The other one they hadn't used in weeks. Not since Sylia tempered with their apartment. This was just the kind of bath no one in this part of the city or in this family expected anymore. The couple didn't ask questions. They got in.

(A hot bath in the Slums)

When they emerged from their rooms, the table was already set with strange, unfamiliar food. It took them a few seconds to register the woman sitting quietly near the window.

Anastasia.

They almost gasped. One of Sylia's Sub-Servants though perhaps it was better to say Cesylia's.

She smiled and gestured politely for them to sit. "I'll be leaving this plane with my Mistress soon." she said with a slight bow. "We appreciated knowing you. So I prepared this modest meal to thank you… for all the entertainment you've provided us over the years."

Grenar grimaced. He wasn't sure if it was a joke or a threat. His son Kirshel stood near the doorway, pale, eyes wide with dread. He hadn't had time to explain anything yet.

Grenar cleared his throat. "May I ask who your Mistress is?"

Anastasia smiled faintly. "She is the Goddess of Nights and Rights, bearer of a fragment crafted by the Dark Lord's Crow. Sadly, that part can't be enslaved. It is leaving soon. But don't worry. You'll still get your wish with Tasha. Masha, along with the contaminated shard from her and her Goddesses that you like to call Sylia, will be Enslaved. The Churches you worked with will ensure it."

She paused, eyes gleaming. "There's just one catch."

Grenar stiffened. "What catch?"

"Since the pact was designed to trap my Mistress, the Churches and the Gods who made or blessed the pact will be enslaved as punishment. A few of our Crows have already begun the work. They'll consume them until nothing remains. That's how it functions. You receive your wish… and in exchange, you give yourself."

She looked directly at him. "You sold yourself as meals. The kind the Crows eat slowly. They have all the time in the world. But you should focus on the bright side—you've won. Celebrate."

Tasha's hands began to tremble. She looked at Anastasia, who was now half-transparent, her body flickering like smoke trying to stay human.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I've gone by many names. You may call me the Crows' Wisdoms. I can't maintain this physical form for much longer. I'm currently enslaving and binding several of the Gods involved. I'll return to Spirit form soon. You don't need to wonder about your fate. You are now among my Slaves. Tasha, you've been extremely amusing. We might keep you around for several more years. Just under a different shape."

She turned to Grenar. "You, however… your time is almost up. I'll still allow you some more time if you sell as many people as you can before tonight. If the balance tips, you go. Now, who can you sell to buy yourself some time? We're not little naive Sylia."

Grenar's eyes widened. "Wait! I can give you Dyetro. Dunkareh, too. And many of their children! Please!"

Kirshel's whole body tensed. Tasha hadn't even reacted. She'd already begun to eat quietly—bird meat and large green beans, chewing slowly, absently.

Anastasia nodded. "Then we'll talk tonight. Dunkareh won't be enough, but Dyetro and his wife… maybe."

Grenar blinked. "His wife? Oh. You know."

Anastasia laughed softly. "What are you talking about? Lower beings are one thing, but you think you could strike pacts with Gods in the domains of the Crows and the Dark Serpents without our approval? You of all people? Didn't you and Tasha realize what was happening?"

Grenar started to sweat. "We're caught in a feeding web… That means the Spiders must have lured us here."

Anastasia's voice was almost kind. "No. They would've been far too obvious. We used another method."

Tasha's eyes widened suddenly—briefly alert—but then drifted again, growing vacant.

Anastasia tilted her head. "I want to thank you. You solved a problem for us. That pact Yullina made—the one forged by a special child born from Divine-possessed parents—it trapped the Goddess's core fragment inside her. That saved us considerable effort. She was born under the blessing of several Goddesses. Now she's merged with one."

Her smile turned cold. "Tasha might never forgive you for that. For obvious reasons I don't need to explain. But still, we did appreciate your cleverness. In the end, there's no mystery left about why you fell."

Grenar had started to shake.

"You're lucky Sylia is so naive." Anastasia added, amused. "She didn't see it coming at all. You succeeded. She thought you were smarter than you are. We warned her. You and your little group are some of the dumbest things to crawl under the Crows' shadow."

She leaned closer, voice mocking. "The Dark Lord himself is ashamed you were ever associated with the Darkness element. His entire Flock booed your name the moment it was spoken. But you do have one fan."

Grenar looked up, hopeful.

Anastasia smiled, cruelly, beautifully. "Yes. The Master of Blood Lords. Your biggest fan. In all his eternal life, he has never encountered planning as pathetic as yours. He insists on dissecting you. He wants to preserve the tiny piece of you that comes up with the lamest strategies imaginable. He says it's too lame to replicate. His power can't even mimic it. He'll keep that fragment, juice it endlessly, and use it to construct his perfect torture chamber for a few of his special 'friends.'"

Grenar whimpered.

Anastasia stood. "No need to remember me until tonight. That's when I'll be collecting what's mine."

(Anastasia)

(To be continued in second part of the chapter)