The Devil You Know

[Zeik]

Zeik accepted Q’s invitation to sit, easing himself into the weathered stone bench in the courtyard. It was a rare moment of peace, one that he hadn’t allowed himself in quite some time. The old warrior, though worn by war and memory, still had an eye—and a palate—for the finer things. He welcomed the glass of wine she offered with a nod of thanks.

He gave the pour a gentle twirl, watching the wine run down the inside of the glass. “I’ve always favored a dry red,” he muttered, almost to himself. With a deep inhale, his mind slipped away. In the scent alone, he could trace the vineyard, the season. Had he held his breath just a second longer, he might’ve divined the winemaker’s lover. Such was his gift—or curse—for detail.

But before the haze of memory could claim him completely, a voice rang out like a bright chime in his mind.

“Haiiiii!”

He blinked. She’d been there the whole time. A girl—young, vibrant, and strangely familiar. One look into her eyes, and something stirred in him. A sense that he'd known her, though he was certain they had never met.

“You know me?” he asked, brow furrowed. “Strangely enough... you seem familiar as well,” he said with a soft smile. "Though...im certain we've never met."

He lingering on her tone, disecting with scrutiny. Her words were bright with innocence—a rare quality in this hardened world.

“Taller?!” he bellowed, laughter booming from his chest. The kind of laugh that banished ghosts, even if just for a breath, and pulled others into its warmth.

Then came a name. One that caused his smile to dim, just slightly.

“Edo’s full of tales about you,” she said. “Mostly good.”

Edo... Arcturus... Wounds reopened in the silence that followed. He closed his eyes and took another sip, using the taste to bury memories too heavy for words. Those names held pain—failures he’d long tried to forget. Or perhaps never could.

But the girl, undeterred, continued.

“Anyway. I’m Khei. I’m human too, and apparently, I like to keep very dangerous company.”

Zeik looked at her more fully now. A stranger, yes—but there was something in her presence. A brightness. A sincerity untouched by cynicism. He didn’t know her. Not really. But the moment felt... significant.

[Qarinah]

Qarinah's lips curled, just slightly—more smirk than smile, savoring the initial meeting of two powerful personalities.

“Charming, isn’t she?” She said lightly, easing back into her seat with a languid grace. “Though don’t let that fool you. She’s far more than what she appears to be… dangerously so.”

Her gaze slid to Khei and lingered—not just with fondness, but with a glint of quiet calculation, as if weighing something only she could see. Then, just as smoothly, her attention returned to Zeik, and her smile sharpened at the edges.

“In fact,” She continued, folding one leg over the other as the velvet of her gown whispered against itself. “She's one of the reasons I asked you to join us tonight. But we shall get to that soon enough.”

She lifted her glass, letting it catch the moonlight as it tilted toward her lips, and took a measured sip.

“Now,” she went on, her voice dipping into something lower, more intimate—velvet over steel, “..indulge me, old friend... how was your journey to Aeon?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion but anticipation. “You rarely stray from the land of Muu, and never without purpose. But to do so alongside the Venkage?” She exhaled softly, the faintest suggestion of a smirk returning. “Well.. that spells trouble in every tongue I’ve either learned or tasted.”

There was warmth in her tone—genuine, earned over centuries. But beneath it all, a subtle gravity. She already knew something, perhaps everything. But she wanted to hear it from Zeik’s mouth.

To hear what weight it carried in his voice.

[Zeik]

Zeik didn’t smile—he hadn’t earned the ease for that.

Instead, his gaze lingered a moment longer on Khei. Not with judgment, nor even concern. Just that quiet, unnerving way he had of seeing things before they became what they were meant to be.

Then he turned back to Qarinah and sat down, slow and deliberate—like a man sitting beside a fire he knew would go out before morning.

“Aeon wasn’t a visit,” he said finally, voice low and edged like weathered stone. “It was a descent.”

A breath passed. He didn’t rush. The weight spoke better than the words.

"I went with ZK.”There was a ghost of something softer in that name—only for a second. “You know how he is—trouble follows him like a shadow that never forgets its master. But this time… we weren’t running from it.”

He exhaled through his nose, as if trying to steady something inside.

“We were looking for something ancient. Buried under frozen land no map dares mark. And we found it—or what was guarding it.”

His jaw tensed.

[“A Herald. Not of war. Not of famine. But of Death itself. And he wasn’t waiting to be summoned. He was already moving.”

He let that settle, the way only someone who’d stood too close to oblivion could.

“The curse he unleashed… it’s called a Subterfuge. A type of sorcery that shouldnt be possible." He looked up at her now, eyes still but far. “Every soul that dies now joins his army. Every war, every illness, every accident—feeds Death’s Army.”

He didn’t blink.

“We barely made it out. ZK… didn’t.” His voice lowered even further. “He was broken. Asked me to take him to Fenri. And that’s where we met another one.”

Now his tone hardened—quietly, not sharply. Like ice beneath snow.

“War’s Herald. Towering. Elv-blooded. A beast cloaked in reason and genocide. He spoke of purging mankind like it was already decided.”

He paused. Then, more quietly:

“And all of this… came after my daughter turned me against shadows wearing the faces of my own order. She made me wage war against the likeness of the Trinity—myself included."

His gaze drifted, jaw slack for a heartbeat. Then, almost absently:

“I’m out of time, Qarinah. Prep time. Mercy. Distance.”

Then came the line, not spoken with flair—but finality.

“Trouble doesn’t need to knock anymore.” His voice was almost a whisper now. “It’s figured out how to pick the lock.”

He leaned back, slowly, letting the moment stretch. The moonlight caught the lines under his eyes and the weight around his shoulders.

[Qarinah]

The silence that followed Zeik’s words wasn’t discomfort—it was reverence..

Qarinah didn’t speak immediately, but when she finally did, her voice was softer than usual. Almost… distant.

“I have felt it,” she said. “For weeks now. Perhaps longer, before I knew what it was.”

She raised her hand, flexed her fingers as if they were not entirely hers. Something in her poise had shifted—not weaker, but withdrawn. Like a predator who’d tasted poison in its own veins.

“..But your words have brought clarity.” Her eyes flicked toward Zeik. “Grim clarity, I'm afraid.”

Her fingers curled back around the stem of her glass—but she did not drink, she simply glanced at her reflection in the swirling liquids.

“This Subterfuge..” She said, her voice sharp now. “..has affected me directly.. Intimately.” She paused. “Every soul that passes through my lips now does not nourish me—but empowers him.”

Her words were precise. And heavy.

“I do not fear starvation.. Not in the mortal sense. But I have no desire to become an unwilling vessel for the army of Death. Not while I still have the will to defy him.”

She said, taking a long, thoughtful breath before she continued.

“Which is why I've asked for your attendance today, Zeik. I've already spoken with Khei.” She said, focusing now on the moonlight, dancing along the courtyard. “Soon, I will fall into a deathlike slumber. And I will not awaken until my body has been fully restored.”

She said plainly, despite the implications of her words.

“The castle will carry me, as it always has. Across rift and ruin, far from the horsemen's grasp. It will keep me hidden, but absent...”

Her voice dropped, elegant and clean.

She turned then, eyes falling on Khei—not like a general appointing a successor, but like a jaded matriarch preparing to let go of the only thing she’s grown to care for in centuries.

“..and in that absence… she will act in my stead.”
Qarinah smiled, watching Khei's expression unnerved by her weight of responsibility. But Qarinah's gaze didn’t waver. “She's a small thing, but whatever you see in her now.. barely scratches the surface.”

Her voice dropped again as she looked at Zeik. “I trust her, and I'd like you to as well.”

[Zeik]

Zeik sat with the weight of her words pressing against him, and for a long moment he said nothing. His jaw worked once, then stilled. His eyes drifted to the floor, then to Khei, then away again.

The silence stretched—not dismissive, but heavy, as though he were biting down on something sharp and refusing to bleed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Cold at first.

“You're.... stepping away?”It wasn’t an accusation, not quite. More like the stone fact of it. His gaze flicked to Qarinah—quick, hard, then gone again.

His fingers drummed once against his knee, then tightened into a fist. The gesture stilled him, anchored him.

“The war is days old. I don’t have an army. I don’t have the time.” A breath hissed through his teeth, controlled, measured. “And now one of my best is asking to leave the line.”

The words should have struck like steel—but instead they fell quiet, almost weary. His eyes softened for only a moment, enough to betray the pull of something older than anger.

He leaned back, shadows collecting across the lines of his face. The cursed flame smoldered faint in his eyes, a restless ember gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Then he looked at Khei again. This time longer. Studying. Measuring.

When he spoke, his tone had shifted—still cold, but with an undercurrent of reluctant warmth, something human breaking through the stone.

“If she matters to you, then she matters to me. I’ll keep her standing. It’s the least I can do… for someone who’s carried me further than I had any right to go.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than any vow.

Another silence followed, deeper this time. His gaze returned to Qarinah, and for the first time it lingered, searching.

“But tell me, Q…” his voice dropped, almost a whisper. "…this trust you’re placing in me—what if you wake to a world already lost? Or worse…” His eyes darkened, the ember in them flaring just enough to betray the war within.