Page 52 of Sanctuary

The goddess sighed and flicked her fingers. The apple streaked to Farhang and broke over him in a shower of snowflakes. The space behind the magav split, yawned, slurped him out of Nav, and snapped shut.

A vast dark shadow loomed in the wide doorway that led to the tree and the balcony. His black cloak swirled about him. The glow of Morena’s tree lights played on his scale armor. The God of the Final End stepped onto the balcony.

Time to test the waters. Roman met his god’s gaze.

Angry?

The left corner of Chernobog’s severe mouth quirked. The answer exploded in Roman’s mind.

YOU ARE MY VOLHV.

A strange feeling filled Roman. It was as if the world had been tilted slightly off-kilter, and now it suddenly righted itself. Power coursed through him, bringing relief, peace, and hope.

Morena gave him a sharp smile.

“You two should go. I will send Finn to you after we speak.”

Nav tore in half.

Roman opened his eyes. He stood on his porch.

Potholes covered the yard, the ground plowed here and there by random tracks, some still oozing with ichor. The remnants of the bone hands stuck out of the dirt. The porch was a mess of shattered boards, scarred with burns from the yellow goo. The front window lay shattered in his living room. The door and the front wall were full of holes.

And they still didn’t know where the priest and the warrior had come from or if whoever sent them would try again.

He sighed.

The door behind him creaked. Farhang stumbled out into the daylight, his face bright and bewildered. The pack of nechist spilled out onto the porch with him, Roro in the lead.

“I am…myself.” Farhang grinned at Roman. “I am myself, my friend!”

He scooped one of the kolovershi up and spun around with it. The little beast squealed. Farhang let it go and half-ran, half-jumped onto the yard, flinging his arms wide.

The kolovershi followed. Roro thought about it, sidled up to Andora instead, and licked her hand. “Roro.”

Andora absentmindedly petted Roro’s head.

The iron hound slunk out onto the porch, hesitant. Behind him, the anchutka crawled out, blinking at the sunlight.

Farhang laughed, making weird little circles.

“How long did you say he was stuck?” Andora asked.

“Three years, he thinks.”

“Ah. That would explain the frolicking.”

Farhang wandered down the driveway, hopped over a puddle of goo that used to be the mercenary sniper, and took off into the woods, spinning his arms. The kolovershi trailed him, clearly concerned.

“They won’t let him wander too far off,” Roman told her.

The house behind them creaked. They turned to look at it.

Darkness slithered up the walls. The glass shards lifted from the floor and reassembled into a window. The holes in the door and the porch closed. The yellow goo vanished, leaving unscarred stone in its wake. The house was as it had been. The yard was still a mess, though, but he was not one to look a gift from a god in its mouth.

Thank you.

“I guess you are forgiven for your tantrum,” Andora said.

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