The fire from the battle still smoldered in the distance, painting the canopy in shades of orange. Mausgrau perched on a half-broken branch, her whiskers twitching as she studied her uneasy ally. Delilah's body—his body, now—stood at the center of a clearing, steam rising from her shoulders where fire had burned too brightly.
She finally spoke, voice sharp. "Why are you here? Why fight them? Why not simply take what you want? With power like yours, you could crush cities in a day."
The nameless man—wearing Delilah's face, her body, but with eyes that burned like storms—turned slowly toward her. For a long moment, he was silent. Then he sighed, and the world seemed to sigh with him.
"Because I am tired."
Mausgrau stiffened. She hadn't expected that answer.
He walked closer, each step gentle now, as though he feared cracking the earth. "I do what I do because I want what you already have. To walk the earth as a man. To breathe without breaking the air. To live quietly. To live… normally."
His hand trembled as he held it up, shifting from stone to water to flame before clenching it shut. "But my body never allowed that. It betrayed me, turning to dust piece by piece. Even when I ruled—" His voice hardened, old pride flashing. "Even when I defeated Odin himself and bent the world beneath me, I had nothing. No peace. No home. Only power, and the dust that devoured me."
Mausgrau's tail lashed, her eyes narrowing. "You expect me to believe a god-slayer only wants to play farmer?"
His laugh was quiet, bitter. "Believe what you wish. I conquered once. I will not do it again. Not here."
He turned his gaze to the burning horizon, softer now. "This time, perhaps, I will even try to be what you call a hero."
---
Mausgrau's ears flicked. She wanted to hiss, to bare her teeth, to reject his words outright. But something in his voice—weariness, honesty, or maybe the ache of someone who had once had everything and lost it—made her pause.
Finally, she said, "If that's true… then prove it. Fight with me, but not like a conqueror. Like a protector. Like someone who belongs here."
The nameless one inclined his head, and for the first time his smile wasn't cruel. "Then perhaps," he said, "you and your forest will be my beginning."
---
High above, unseen drones—Serpent scouts—watched. Transmitting everything.
The Black Serpents now knew their enemy's secret: a god in mortal flesh, tired of war but dangerous beyond measure.
And they began to plan.