"W-Where have you been all this time? I searched for you everywhere, but you severed every connection we had!"
I ran my fingers soothingly along his back before fully returning his embrace.
"It’s alright now. I’m back." My voice was barely above a whisper.
He pulled away just enough to look at me, and I nearly laughed.
Carter, the god of love, stood before me, utterly undone. His divine composure lay in ruins, his face streaked with tears that shimmered in the dim light. The effortless grace that so often defined him had crumbled, leaving only the raw vulnerability of a man unashamed of his emotions. And yet, this was quintessentially Carter—overly dramatic, hopelessly sentimental, and entirely unguarded in his affection.
It was almost comical, really. The deity revered for matters of the heart, for passion and devotion, now reduced to a tear-streaked mess before me. But that was Carter. He felt deeply, loved fiercely, and never hesitated to wear his emotions like a crown, even when they left him defenseless.
And, of course, he's also my brother.
"Will you stop crying already? You’re a god, for heaven’s sake! And what in the world are you doing here?!"
"You live here," he retorted, wiping his face, "and I have no intention of returning to the Spirit Realm. Lelith frequents that place."
I exhaled heavily. "Well, I’m going to see her now at the Center," I hesitated, pressing my lips together. "To complete my final mission as a tamer."
His expression shifted instantly. "Final mission?" He repeated, his gaze flickering to Yosuke and the others as if tallying something in his head. "Right... You have just one left to tame. After that, you’re free to leave this place for good."
His voice wavered slightly, but in the next instant, his somberness was replaced with excitement.
"But that means I can visit you in the Human Realm, right?!"
I smirked. "Of course. I’m never shutting you out again."
His face lit up like a child receiving a long-awaited gift. "Then I’m coming with you to meet Lelith. I assume the other rulers will be there as well?"
"Unfortunately, yes," I replied, rolling my eyes.
"Then wait here! I’ll go get changed."
Before I could protest, Carter bolted inside the house.
"Are you two really siblings?" Heie muttered, clearly skeptical.
"What the heck, Heie?!"
The others burst out laughing, and I chuckled along with them. I’d heard that comment far too often.
Carter and I shared a bond so profound that others often misinterpreted it, mistaking our closeness for something beyond familial affection. But to me, he was more than just my brother—he was my confidant, my unwavering constant in a world that had never ceased to test me.
Despite the vast chasm between us—a god and a mere tamer, an immortal and a mortal—those distinctions had never defined our relationship. Titles, power, and fate itself held no weight against the connection we shared. In a realm where allegiances wavered and loyalties were fleeting, Carter remained the one soul who had never abandoned me, never questioned my worth, never turned his back on me.
And for that, I could never let him go.
It didn’t take him long to return, but the moment he stepped outside, I nearly choked. His blond curls now cascaded past his broad shoulders, and his eyes were an even more striking shade of blue than before. But that wasn’t what stunned me.
"Why in the world are you wearing human clothing?!"
He stopped in front of me, looking utterly pleased with himself. "What? What’s wrong with it? It suits me well, don’t you think?"
I covered my mouth, scrutinizing his attire from head to toe. A Christian Dior Atelier quilted over shirt, Dior track pants, and some absurdly expensive shoes I couldn’t even identify.
"Carter... you look ridiculous."
"Well, shall we go now?" He ignored my remark and slung an arm around my shoulders.
From behind me, Yosuke groaned. "I swear to the heavens and hell, I don’t like him."
"Shut up!"
Scott promptly seized Yosuke by the collar, dragging him to the back of the group with little resistance as we resumed our path toward the Center. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, a temporary distraction from the gravity of our impending encounter. Yet, the moment we reached the gates of Aiden’s domain, an unsettling silence settled over us.
The entrance before us was nothing short of monolithic—a pair of colossal, intricately carved gates, each half looming like an immovable titan. The left side was sculpted from obsidian, its surface etched with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly with a crimson glow, as if imbued with lifeblood itself.
The right half was formed from a pale, almost ethereal stone, luminescent silver veins coursing through its flawless exterior like captured stardust. Together, they represented the duality of the realm beyond—darkness and light, death and rebirth, judgment and mercy.
The sheer scale of the gates was enough to make even the bravest hesitate. They stretched so high that they seemed to merge with the sky itself, their towering forms blotting out the horizon.
A heavy, suffocating energy radiated from them, pressing down on us like the weight of an unseen force. This was not merely an entrance—it was a threshold, a barrier between the known and the unknowable, demanding reverence from those who dared to approach.
As if responding to our arrival, two imposing figures emerged from the void-like recesses of the gate’s flanking shadows. Gatekeepers—towering beings, their height easily surpassing eight feet, their forms clad in ornate armor that seemed to shift and shimmer between reality and illusion.
Their presence was an extension of the gates themselves, as if they were not mere sentinels but the very embodiment of the realm’s will.
When they spoke, their voices resonated through the air, deep and commanding, reverberating within our very bones.
"Welcome home, daughter of Lelith."
I scoffed. "Was that even necessary?"
The moment the gates creaked open, a suffocating wave of miasma surged forward, thick and cloying, wrapping around me like a sentient force. The stench was overwhelming—a rancid blend of decay, sulfur, and something far more insidious, something that clawed at the edges of my mind with a whisper of ancient malice.
A sharp lurch twisted my stomach, my body instinctively recoiling from the unseen yet undeniable corruption seeping from within. The very air felt wrong, as though it had been tainted by centuries of suffering, carrying the echoes of voices long silenced. It pressed down on my chest, filling my lungs with an oppressive weight that made each breath a struggle.
The others stiffened beside me, their expressions taut with unease. Even Scott, ever composed, furrowed his brows, his fingers twitching toward the hilt of his weapon. Yosuke let out a low curse under his breath, his usual bravado momentarily eclipsed by the visceral reaction this place invoked.
Beyond the threshold, the world was shrouded in a thick, undulating fog, its tendrils slithering across the ground like living things. The path ahead was obscured, swallowed by the abyssal gloom stretching endlessly before us.
"The scent of death," I murmured, forcing myself forward.
As soon as we stepped inside, the massive doors thundered shut behind us, the echoing boom reverberating through the desolate expanse like the final toll of a death knell. The force of it sent a tremor through the ground beneath our feet, sealing us within the oppressive gloom that stretched endlessly ahead.
Before I could fully process the weight of our entrapment, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A wisp of black fire materialized mere inches from my face, its form shifting and pulsing like a living ember caught in an unfelt breeze. Its eerie, luminous eyes gleamed within the writhing darkness of its body—watchful, intelligent, and strangely inquisitive. There was an unsettling duality to its presence; an entity born of shadows, exuding an aura of menace, yet possessing an almost childlike curiosity.
The wisp hovered in place, studying me with silent intensity, its flickering flames casting brief flashes of spectral blue light against my skin. Despite the primal instinct urging me to step back, I remained still, caught between wariness and fascination. The air around it pulsed with an unfamiliar energy—neither wholly hostile nor benign—yet undeniably powerful.
"You must proceed alone from here."
Its soft, ethereal voice sent chills skittering down my spine. I nodded in understanding.
"No! I’m going with her." Carter’s voice was resolute.
"My apologies, god of love, but your sister’s duty is none of your concern."
Carter’s expression darkened as he stepped forward. "YES. IT. DOES," he enunciated each word sharply. "She is my sister. I will accompany her—whether you approve or not."
"This is Lelith’s command."
His jaw clenched. "How dare you—"
I placed a hand on his arm, halting his advance. He looked at me, frustration evident in his eyes.
"Let me handle this. I’ll be fine."
He exhaled sharply, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to argue. "Fine. Just don’t take too long."
I turned to Kurama and Ryuu. "As always, you two are in charge."
They bowed. "Yes, milady."
Carter let out a final groan and faced the wisp. "Do me a favor, then. Tell Lelith I have a bone to pick with her after this."
"As you wish, god of love."
With that, I followed the wisp down a vast corridor, my steps slowing as doubt gnawed at my resolve.
"Do I really have to do this?" The rational part of my mind screamed in protest.
Once I entered the council chamber, there would be no turning back. Failure meant death. But if I abandoned my duty now, I would only be granted temporary freedom before they hunted me down. Either way, my life was no longer my own.
How sickening.
Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself and continued forward until I reached the end of the corridor which opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling stretching so impossibly high that the very air seemed to thin the farther up one looked.
Pillars of obsidian lined the walls, their surfaces etched with shifting constellations, pulsating faintly like the heartbeat of the universe itself. And at the far end, seated upon thrones that defied mortal comprehension, sat the rulers of the Center.
The gods were enormous—monolithic beings whose mere presence commanded reverence and fear in equal measure. Their thrones, sculpted from celestial stone, loomed like mountains carved into the very fabric of existence. The air around them shimmered with raw divinity, distorting space as if reality itself struggled to contain their vast power.
At the center sat Adonis, his form radiating an ethereal glow that seemed to bend time around him. His features, striking and flawless, carried an otherworldly serenity, yet his golden eyes held an intensity that could unravel souls.
To his right sat Lelith, a goddess of radiance, her presence casting a golden glow across the chamber. Draped in shimmering silk that shifted like dawn’s first light, she embodied warmth and power in equal measure.
Her golden hair, crowned with a diadem of crystallized brilliance, cascaded like liquid sunlight, while her amber eyes pierced through illusion with quiet authority. She was not merely a beacon of light but its very essence—both a guiding force and an untamed power capable of creation and ruin alike.
To Adonis’ left sat Aiden, a figure wreathed in a perpetual shadow that devoured all light. Though his form was solid, there was something unsettlingly fluid about him, as though he was both present and absent, both here and elsewhere. His mere existence was a paradox, and even the air around him seemed to waver in unease.
And standing behind them, like a silent specter, was Spencer—the Center’s sorcerer and Adonis’ right hand.
We were the same age, yet time had not touched him. His features remained frozen in their youthful sharpness, his dark eyes as piercing as ever. There was no warmth in them, no recognition—only a cold detachment, as if I were just another nameless visitor, another insignificant mortal passing through his endless existence.
"Welcome back," Lelith greeted.
I responded with a withering glare before shifting my attention to Aiden.
"Let’s cut to the chase, old geezer. Tell me what I need to do and introduce me to this so-called last descendant."
Aiden raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Eager, aren’t we, daughter of Lelith?"
"More like daughter of Alexa," I corrected. "I didn’t come here to discuss family matters. I came to finish my job. So spare me the theatrics."
He chuckled before turning to Spencer. With a snap of the sorcerer’s fingers, an image materialized—a man, surrounded by swirling black miasma.
"His name is Travis," Aiden began. "The last surviving descendant of Aquarius."
My brows furrowed. "Last? Then why must I tame him? Descendants can no longer reproduce once tamed, correct?"
"Correct," Lelith confirmed.
Aiden’s expression darkened. "But Travis is... different."
As they spoke, the truth unraveled before me—his origins, his transformation, his descent into something beyond mortal comprehension.
By the time they finished, I could only glare at them in fury. "So you expect me to tame neither a human, god, nor descendant—but a creature of unknown origin? Are you all insane?!"
Adonis stepped forward. "Do this, and you are free. We give you our word as gods."
I turned my back to them, my decision made.
"Wait for me, Mother..."