The following week was filled with recovery and heightened quiet practice. The meeting, with Nyx weighed heavily on Cassiathon left unvoiced. How could you explain to the Angel of Death that a Primordial Goddess was now gazing into your soul? He concentrated on the physical sharpening the accuracy his father required the recollection of the severed connection becoming his standard.
A visitor of another sort disrupted the tranquility.
This knock was not the foreboding tap of Valentina. It was an ordinary pounding on the lower postern gate the one utilized for commerce with the small number of remaining reliable scavenger groups.
Tania, with her handgun subtly tucked beneath her apron stepped forward to respond. Cassiathon observed from a balcony.
The individual stationed at the entrance was, unlike anyone he had encountered before. He donned a journey-worn coat atop functional battle attire yet it was his bearing that captured attention. He appeared fatigued yet vigilant possessing a time-worn attractiveness. His hair was dark. His gaze reflected a sparkle that was simultaneously playful and profoundly melancholic. Resting across his back was not a gun but a smooth mystical apparatus that vibrated with restrained power.
"Hail the house!" the man shouted, his tone coarse yet. "I seek provisions. Fresh water, knowledge. I can offer -fall technology or… alternative services in return."
"We're not a marketplace " Tania remarked, cautious yet intrigued.
"No you aren't. You're a fortress shielded by sorcery that feels older, than the Abyss itself. That suggests you either guard something precious or someone wildly perilous within." The man's grin was keen. "Name's Morgan. Morgan Morningstar."
The name sparked a shock, within Cassiathon. Morningstar.
"What kind of information?" Tania inquired, ignoring the name.
"Whispers " Morgan remarked, resting lazily against the gateframe. "About a man possessing unusual abilities spotted on the Ashen Plains. About a disappeared research initiative named Phoenix.. About a rise in demonic scout operations in this exact mountain region." His gaze shifted upward straight toward Cassiathon's hidden spot. "I'm not aligned with them. Actually I tend to oppose anyone who becomes overly arrogant—Heaven, Hell or the corporate offices, in the middle."
The Angel of Death appeared next, to Tania arriving silently. He examined Morgan Morningstar, his eyes sharp and focused.
"The offspring of the star " the Angel declared. "Your heritage is steeped in defiance and destruction. What brings you here?"
Morgan held the Angel's stare steadily despite a twitch of his jaw. "Because destruction tends to ripple. Word is the Queen is searching for something.. Where she searches fires follow. I have folks I want to keep safe from the flames. Thought a spot that catches her attention might hold something to exchange." His gaze moved beyond them into the courtyard settling firmly on Cassiathon as he, at last emerged into view. "Perhaps possibly I'm searching for another person who understands what it means to be a failed attempt, in someone else's grand plan."
Tension filled the air. Morgan Morningstar embodied an option—not demon, not death but rebellious, fallen human nature. A possible. A disastrous unpredictable factor.
The Angel of Death finally spoke, his decision echoing in the silent yard. "You may enter. For one night. We will… talk."