Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Shadow could sense when she approached the warded perimeter. It was not hard to find the half-breed’s den, its cubic shape starkly contrasting against the organic flow of the forest. Still, even with its unguarded exterior, the Shadow paces a wary path around the den, looking for any deadly surprises. Her search coming up empty, she stands, ready, at the edge of the den’s wards. 

An ear-piercing roar erupts from her maw.

The sound has an instant effect, the den lighting up seconds later before going dark again. Listening intently, the Shadow can hear a muffled clamor and the subvocal growl of the Garmr inside. The Shadow found it strange that the demon obeyed its half-breed master, especially a demon so ancient as he. 

Yet, the Shadow would be lying if she didn’t detect something even older in the half-breed’s blood.

Crunching gravel draws the Shadow’s attention. The half-breed walks towards her, a very dangerous look in its eyes. Its weapon strapped to its back, the Shadow can see the fiery glow radiating from its right claw. It pulses angrily, far different from the steady glow she observed during their first encounter. 

The Shadow stands her ground, roaring again.

This was a challenge after all. 

Last time, the Shadow was limited by her little ones, their safety paramount as always. Now certain they were stored away safely, she was free to fight as she normally would. To assure their survival, she needed a kingdom of her own. With this one full of lesser demons and so close to human prey, it was the perfect place to reign as queen.

And all she needed to do was kill the half-breed in front of her. 

Sending ripples of demonic energy down her spine, the Shadow snarls at her opponent. She knew the half-breed understood her intentions, but she was curious if it would flee without its lapdog to support it. It smelt somewhat human after all and humans were supposedly cowardly creatures. 

She is intrigued when the half-breed steps over the warded threshold, intent on answering her challenge. A strange mix of emotions passes over its face, some of which the Shadow is not able to identify. Her experience with human body language was minimal at best. However, she can understand the rumbling growl emanating from its chest. 

The half-breed draws its weapon with a metallic hiss. She can feel the demonic energy emanating from the blade, the same as last time. Yet, its unusual signature still confuses her and for just a moment she indulges her curiosity. 

It’s a Devil Arm, the Shadow is certain of that. However, the power stored within it is not the soul of a conquered demon. At least, not entirely. The longsword is a mess of different magics, some from the half-breed, some from the Garmr, and others so primal she had a hard time identifying them at all. 

She would have to inspect it further after taking it from the half-breed’s corpse. 

They circle for a few moments, sizing each other up. Although seemingly frail, the Shadow now knows better than to underestimate her opponent. The creature was surprisingly fast, something she had not expected when they had first fought. 

She would just have to strike faster. 

Arching her back, the Shadow throws herself forward, a whirligig of blades and destruction. The half-breed dodges to the right and jumps back from a slash of her glaive-like tail. The Shadow follows with a rush of nightmarish jaws, ready to rend the anomaly in two. 

A slash of its sword parries her attack, causing her the backpedal to avoid a nasty underhand slash in retaliation. 

Two protrusions on her back bolt forward, catching the half-breed off guard. One pierces its shoulder, digging into the soft, venerable flesh. She’s satisfied when she sees her opponent violently flinch from the impact, a gasp of pain escaping its lips as blood spurts from the wound. 

She retracts the spike before throwing herself forward again, blades spinning. The half-breed barely stumbles out of the way, clutching its injured shoulder with its clawed hand. Using her momentum, she flies out of her spinning frenzy raking its side with one of her massive paws. 

Blood splatters on the soft earth, dripping from shredded flesh as the half-breed leans heavily on its sword.  

The Shadow goes in for another strike, planning to end the battle swiftly. With no scales or tough hide to protect itself with, a well-placed hit should disembowel— 

The half-breed’s blade is whizzing towards her head.

She barely has time to duck under the swing before red-hot talons tear into her flank.

Startled, she flattens herself as much as possible before sliding under the half-breed’s feet, narrowly missing another hit. The Shadow reforms herself a few yards away, taking inventory of the damage. The creature’s claws were not just for show, and she uses a good bit of demonic energy to close the wound. 

Her eyes lock on her opponent who is approaching at an alarming rate. Blood coats the loose fabrics adorning the anomaly’s body. Its right claw drips with a mixture of the creature’s own blood and her own, the swirling magma under the igneous scales making the mixture glint a sinister burgundy. The spines on the creature’s elbow flare outwards, glittering ominously in the dim light. Distressingly, any damage done to its body seemed to have healed, a thick layer of scales peeking through the tears in the fabric. 

Apparently, the half-breed had more fight in it than she first expected. 

Still, this did not perturb her, and the next five minutes becomes a whirlwind of trading blows. One moment, the Shadow thinks she has her opponent cornered when suddenly it would swing its blade at just the right angle that it would force her to instead parry. She knew she was wearing it down. She had reveled when a scream escaped the half-breed, but she too was beginning to become weary. 

Burning orange and red suddenly consumes her vision. 

Flames snap at her paws as the ground around her suddenly is alight with fire. The air around her shutters and dances from the heat, obscuring her vision further. She snarls in frustration but does not shy away. From what she can tell, the fire only surrounds a small area of their makeshift battleground. If she can just move a few yards away she should—

Claws tighten around her neck.

Helpless, weightless in the air, she is suddenly thrown to the ground with titanic force. 

A leather-bound foot bears down on her, locking even her from escape. 

Above her stands the half-breed, glaring down at her, its blade balancing upon one of its shoulders. It flexes its clawed hand as if anxious for more carnage. A thin layer of scales has climbed up the anomaly’s neck, the dark grey and red scales contrasting heavily with the silvery strands adorning its head. The look of disdain that crosses the half-breed’s icy blue eyes tells of only one thing.

She struggles. What other choice does she have? Clawing at its leg, she is only forced down again and again into the dirt. The fire surrounds them, drawing ever closer. It circles her, contained as if it’s her personal hellscape. She’s running out of energy.

She knows it.

The half-breed knows it.

Her body suddenly rebels against her, the Shadow hears herself let out a warbled yowl. She’s shaking, her ears pinned back without her realizing. 

She’s scared in a sort of way she doesn’t understand.

Death is a strange concept for demons. It is in their nature to inflict it on others and to avoid its embrace at all costs. It’s a simple and straightforward approach. There was no philosophy, there was no worrying about a higher power for judgment. 

Death was simply a tool to be used and a threat to defend against. 

It was logical to be fearful of it in that sense. 

Other than that—

Yet there she lays, her executioner standing before her, frozen by a fear that she would never understand. 

And then everything just… stops.

The miniature ring of hellfire extinguishes. The bone-crushing weight lifts from her chest. 

Scrambling to her feet, she turns to face her adversary once again, but to her surprise, the half-breed makes no move to retaliate. 

Instead, it looks conflicted. 

The Shadow snarls at it again, challenging it to continue their battle, but the sound comes out strangled.

It looks at her with resignation and simply shakes its head.

At that moment, the Shadow knows she has lost their battle. 

All that bloodshed, all that risk, and she lost it all. 

Now injured and forced to wander, there would be no way for her little ones to survive.

She had failed. 

The Shadow looks up at the half-breed, this time really looking at the creature.

There was something almost familiar about this impossible organism. Something the Shadow could not completely place. As the victor stands there with questioning eyes, the Shadow begins to understand why this demon was able to dominate this territory, and why a mighty demon such as a Garmr may follow her. 

Standing carefully to her feet, she watches the demon before her tense. 

The Shadow steadies herself, looking up at the demon, meeting her eye, and does the only thing she knows she can do.

She bows.

Chapter Text

Pushing open the ornate doors, Skylar immediately feels out of place in the library’s marble grandeur. Boots echoing against the pristine floor, she self-consciously tugs at the scarlet hood of her inky leather jacket, hoping to hide her eye-catching hair. She walks past the librarian at the counter, noticing the hard stare directed toward her. The woman’s sharp gaze follows her until she passes a bookshelf, the sea of literature obscuring her from prying eyes. 

She attempts to loosen her jaw. 

The majority of her youth was spent curled up in a corner, reading or researching. Libraries were a sanctuary from both the elements and the supernatural. Days when it was too cold to be outside or if it was pouring down rain were best spent in the safety of book-laden halls. If she was especially lucky, there were days she was able to sneak Fenrir in. She would read him stories, the demon an eager audience.

However, Fortuna’s library was nothing like the ones of her childhood. Unlike the public libraries she used to haunt filled with colorful posters and well-worn carpets, Fortuna’s library was a proud, towering structure with history in every stone. 

And here she was. Some outsider, who looked like more trouble than was worth, sullying the sanctity of the freshly polished floor with scuffed boots. 

In reality, she should be used to the feeling by now. 

She wanders through the aisles, her steps silent. Part of her wanted to make sure the librarian had no reason to kick her out. Another just enjoys being a ghost, without fear of others’ judgments. 

Eventually, she plucks two leather-bound tomes from the creaking wooden shelves. With the library virtually empty, she hunkers down at the nearest table, the contents of her backpack strewn about the gleaming surface. Popping in her earbuds, Skylar clicks her pen idly. The Iconography of the Demonic as well as Spells and Seals of the 17th Century stare back at her. She sighs. If she was going to learn anything about demons, this would be the place. 

Flipping open her notebook, she gets to work.

Three albums later, Skylar groans. Shrugging her shoulders, she tries to work out the tenseness in her back. Her neck cracks. Sitting for long periods has always been hard for her. It’s taken years to stop herself from constantly fighting the instinct to move.

It didn’t help that the material was mind-numbing. Could the authors have used stuffier language?

The library has started to pick up, patrons mulling about the silent halls. Most of them give her a wide berth, shooting her cautious glances when they think she’s not watching. She rubs a gloved hand over her face, a resigned sigh on her lips.

Annoying, but not dangerous. 

Strangely enough, she feels like she’s being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck bristle ever so slightly. Raising her book closer to her face, Skylar scans the area. She barely stops herself from snorting when she finds the culprit.

Curious green eyes peek around a bookshelf two aisles down. His carefully brushed hair sticks up on the back of his head, the mousy brown locks barely clearing the second shelf. The kid’s school uniform looks a bit big on him. A hand-me-down if Skylar were to guess. 

She ignores her observer. Children were curious. Seeing a stranger with white hair was bound to draw some attention, especially in a community closed off for so long. Usually, it would only take a few minutes for them to get bored and leave. Sometimes their parents would find them and shoo them away as if in fear they were going to be infected by her weirdness. 

The song fades after a wicked drum solo. Skylar looks up, expecting the kid to be gone by now. 

Instead, she’s surprised to see he’s still there. 

Strange.  

Her finger carefully taps against the cracked glass screen, pausing her music. She pops out one earbud. 

“Uh, hey there. Did you want something or…”

The kid’s eyes widen. His head disappears behind the bookshelf. 

Skylar blinks.

Alright then…

She returns a few days later. Passing the librarian, Skylar gives them a casual wave, hoping to garner some favor with Fortuna’s population. The icy stare she receives does not instill any sense of confidence.

With The Iconography of the Demonic being a bust, Skylar focuses her attention on the other book. She’s careful as she flips through the worn pages. As a creature of fire, the paper is tinder in her hands, a simple spark and the whole book would erupt in flame. 

She had learned early in life to treat the world as if it were made of glass. 

Idly drumming on the table, the sensation of being watched returns. Skylar’s eyes flick toward the bookshelf. Sure enough, the kid’s back, staring at her again. 

Was this going to become a thing now? She knew outsiders were not generally seen in Fortuna, but it wasn’t like she was some zoo attraction. It’d been years since she’d had this much scrutiny over her hair. Did the kid want something?

Skylar watches him out of the corner of her eye. Every so often, the boy’s eyes flick to the seat next to her, as if contemplating sitting down. 

Interesting…

Papers shuffle against the table, the chaotic mess contained to one side of the workspace. She returns to her work. 

The chair beside her squeaks as tiny hands move it out from under the table. Hopping up onto the chair, the boy plops a menagerie of children's books onto the tabletop. He gives Skylar a cursory glance as if daring her to object to his presence. At her silence, he plucks a colorful picture book off the stack of literature and begins to read. 

They sit in companionable silence for the next hour, the boy reading and Skylar jotting down information in her notebook. She almost forgets the boy is there, up until there’s a shuffle of movement, the boy sliding off the chair, wordlessly pushing it back to its designated spot. Collecting his books, he shuffles off without a word. 

Huh…

The boy comes and sits with her every Tuesday and Thursday. It’s by week three that she realizes it’s becoming a pattern. At three o’clock, he appears, a new collection of books in hand. Skylar now preemptively clears the makeshift desk of her work, making room for the kid’s stuff. 

She’s flipping through a copy of Phenotypical Similarities of the Natural and Supernatural when he appears. Wordlessly, she pulls out the chair beside her. Scrambling up onto his perch, he unpacks a blue backpack, markers, and a spiral-bound notepad carefully removed. Skylar raises an eyebrow. She’s never seen the kid draw before. With a mental shrug, she turns her attention back to her notes. 

Scratching out an error in her notebook, she snatches her pencil to sketch out a diagram of a Mephisto. As of late, they have been coming down the mountain in some sort of strange migration. Maybe it was the changing of the seasons, maybe there was some bigger, badder demon chasing them out of their territory. Either way, they were becoming a nuisance, their ghostly nature making them annoying to hunt. Today she was hoping to rectify that. 

Outlining the demon’s compound eyes, she pauses, listening to the telltale sign of scribbling. Skylar glances over at the little scholar, curious to see what he’s drawing. Her eyes widen. 

A messily drawn demon sits at the center of the boy’s page, its cloak a chaotic mishmash of lines. Despite the lines and the lopsided nature of the drawing, it is most definitely a Mephisto, its pointed fingers a blatant giveaway. Skylar looks closer at the strange lines surrounding the drawing. She bites back a laugh. 

Arrows point to different parts of the beast, messy lines hovering above them. Skylar can pick out words such as “fingers” and “bug” from the crooked handwriting. 

The kid was copying her notes. 

Looking up from his work, he does a double take, not having expected her to be reading over his shoulder. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair realizing he’s been caught red-handed. Skylar snorts in amusement. The whole situation was strangely endearing. 

Scooting the book closer to him, she lets him get a better look at the demonic diagram. He skims over it for a while, curiosity sparking in his eyes. Hesitantly, he turns to her, his finger pointing to a passage explaining the demon’s similarities to modern-day scorpions. He sits there for a moment.

“What does this mean?” He whispers. 

Skylar tilts her head.

“Like the whole thing, or…?”

He nods. 

“Well…”

Reading the passage out loud seemed to grant her some type of trust, the kid asking questions as they worked through the book together. It was fun in a strange sort of way. Although the material was dry as a desert, the kid’s wild questions made the arduous task entertaining. Eventually, Skylar goes in search of other material, eventually, the two of them stare at a book about insects from around the world. She can’t help but smile when his eyes light up at the sight of an illustrated dragonfly. 

The hour passes quickly. It’s obvious the young scholar is reluctant to leave, having just started looking at a chapter on butterflies. He stares longingly at the open book. 

“We can read next week if you want.” Skylar offers. “I don’t think anyone’s going to check it out.”

“Really?” Excitement bleeds into his voice.

“Yeah, why not? Seems pretty interesting.”

It was a partial truth. Honestly, much of the terminology went over Skylar’s head, but the base information was interesting. What made the book shine was its beautifully illustrated pictures. She couldn’t help but be fond of the classical ink-drawn creatures dancing across the pages.

Paper rips beside her. Skylar looks up to watch the boy tear a page out of his notebook. He hands it to her. 

“Maybe this will help you with your studying. Miss Kyrie says working together is always best.”

She takes it, surprised by the sudden kind gesture. Inspecting it in her hands, the corner of her mouth tugs upwards.

“Well, Miss Kyrie sounds pretty smart. I’ll make sure to put this in my notes.” She gives him a nod. “Thank you.”

The kid nods back, before deftly packing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He offers her a shy wave and disappears through his path around the bookshelf. With the scholar gone, Skylar unfolds the paper still in her hands. A small smile spreads across her face. The kid’s Mephisto doodle stares back at her. Carefully refolding the drawing, she pauses, noticing the messy green marker on the back. 

Thank you for reading with me. From: Julio

Her heart clenches, followed by a happy little jump. 

Making sure Julio’s valuable research is stored away safely, she closes her notebook.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take long to notice the large snout pushing against her cheek. A puff of hot air slaps her face, a snuffling wet nose quickly following. The rumbling growl finally convinces her to pry her eyes open. A dark figure looms above her, midnight black fur silhouetted by the pale light. She looks up to see pair of burning amber eyes staring doawn at her. 

Their owner slowly blinks. 

She owlishly blinks back. 

Massive paws spring upon her as her world transforms into a fluffy mess of fur and discarded blankets. Cringing at the slobber now coating her face, Skylar wrestles with the overgrown puppy that disrupted her beauty sleep. 

“Alright, you big mutt! I’m up! I’m up!” 

Playfully swatting the wolf’s scarred snout, she plants a soft kiss on the top of his head. She is rewarded by a wagging tail and a pleased grumble.

“Good morning to you too.” She chuckles in Infernal. The demonic language rolls in the back of her throat as naturally as the human tongue. 

Pushing the mass of fur off of her, she quickly gets up before her companion attempts to play-tackle her again. Scratching her head, a quick glance over to her right reveals a large dog bed, cluttered with a menagerie of stuffed toys and blankets. Something nudges against her hip. Looking down, she smiles at the sight of her friend holding her hairbrush between his teeth. 

“Thanks, Fen.” She ruffles the wolf’s fur, before tying up her hair into a messy bun. 

Drawing up the blinds, she opens the window. Tiny motes of dust flutter about the room as delicate morning rays race into the cramped grey room. Fernadette sits in the corner, her leaves a bit greener than the week before. Skylar makes sure to check the growing collection of cacti and succulents littering the low table near the window. She makes a mental note to water them later. 

A low whining breaks her from her thoughts. Another nudge. 

Knowing her companion’s patience is running thin, Skylar shuffles into the kitchen with Fenrir following close behind. She carefully steps over some unfinished tile and begins scrounging around for some cookware. Fenrir paces around the kitchen, the great beast finally plopping his head on top of the counter. He whines again.

“I know Fen, just give me a minute.”  She mutters. “I can’t cook eggs without a pan.”

Fenrir huffs in disappointment, his eyes turning yearningly to the magnet-riddled fridge. 

Another minute of hunting rewards her with a frying pan and a spatula. Popping open the fridge she grabs eight eggs. 

“Alright, grab what you want,” Skylar says looking at Fenrir. “Just warning you, we don’t have prosciutto.”

Fenrir gives her an affronted look.

“It’s not my fault! You ate all of it two days ago. We still have ham and chicken.”

An annoyed grumble.

“Look, that stuff’s expensive. Buying that was a one-time thing. A treat. I can still make you a killer omelet without it. What else do you want from me?”

He gives her an expectant stare. 

“That’s not prosciutto.” She deadpans. 

Fenrir fishes out the packet of bacon with a haughty expression before going to place it on the counter.

“Spoiled brat.” Skylar mumbles, still crouching down, also rummaging through the fridge. 

A tail smacks her face. 

They end up eating in the living room, as the kitchen table is riddled with miscellaneous tools and kitchen hardware. When she started the project, Skylar was confident that she could have the kitchen remodel done in about a month. 

It was going on a month and a half now.  

Did she know what she was doing? Absolutely not. But it wasn’t like she had the money to hire a professional. 

Munching on her omelet, Skylar sinks further into the worn leather couch. There’s a creak from the paint-chipped bookshelf shoved in the corner of the living room. Skylar sighs, hoping that the wooden structure wouldn’t crumble. She found herself doing that a lot lately. 

She should have expected that when purchasing an abandoned cottage out in the middle of nowhere. 

Not that she should complain…

It was a roof over her head and besides, the price had been great, low enough that even her meager savings covered a majority of the cost. There weren’t many who wanted to live right next to a demon-infested forest, in a city that was just attacked by some overgrown statue. The surrounding magic was still a chaotic mess here, despite what many of the officials claimed. 

For her, it was the perfect place to hide. 

Clawed fingers wiggle in front of her face. She stares at the demonic appendage, turning it so the dull, bulky scales reflect slightly in the calm morning light. A constant reminder of why she was she was forced to run. 

If it so desperately wanted to hunt her, she was going to make it hard for it to find her. 

She was going to enjoy having a home, for however long she may.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to rid herself of it forever. 

She knew something was off the moment she sat down.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Julio questions, looking up from his half-finished sketch. They were reading about ocean animals today, the young scholar being very interested in orcas. 

Skylar gestures to her own cheek, indicating the scratch atop Julio’s cheekbone. 

His gaze immediately flicks away.

“I uh, just fell. I’m fine.” He lies. The slight waver makes her sure of that. However, she stays silent, knowing that pressing him would only make him clam up. Skylar makes a mental note to keep an eye out for anything strange.

They continue their reading session in relative peace, that is until she sees a picture of a strangely familiar rocky beach. She breathes a soft scoff at the awkward camera angle.

“Heh, of all the places they could have chosen for that shot. They would have had better luck near the cliffside. The babies like to play near there.”

Julio’s head whips around.

“You’ve seen an orca before?! But, the book says they don’t come near Fortuna.”

“They don’t. But further north they sometimes hang out near the coastline. If you’re lucky, you can see them from shore.”

His book is quickly forgotten and Julio stares at her in awe. 

“Does that mean you’re from far away?” He asks. “Like, not from Fortuna?” 

“Yeah." She answers, quirking a brow. Skylar's a bit unsure about his sudden eagerness. "I just moved here a few months ago. I, uh, used to travel a lot.”

“Really?! That’s so cool! I want to travel too, but my teacher Miss Carter says the outside world’s dangerous because of all the demons since the Order’s not around. Is that why you’re reading about them?”

Of course, she’s not going to tell him the truth. Not only was it not for the ears of a seven-year-old, but in reality, it would probably put him in danger. The last thing she wanted to do was drag a child into her problems.

“Kind of, but demons run amok Order or no Order. It shouldn’t stop someone from seeing the world. There’s a lot out there worth seeing with your own eyes.”

“Why’d you stop then?” Julio tilts his head, obviously confused. “Fortuna’s boring! There’s nothing here like in the books.”

Safety, her mind supplies. Not having to constantly break into abandoned buildings to sleep, having an actual bed with sheets and a blanket… the reasons continue to list on and on despite her answer. 

“I think I wanted a home, someplace to call my own.” She answers, a bit to her own surprise. In the chaos of everything, she’d never really thought about why she settled. Yes, it was a place to hide, but she hadn’t needed to buy a house. Something so permanent was so alien to her. “Traveling is fun and all, but it’s stressful. Exciting is not always good.”

“What do you mean?” 

Skylar props her elbow against the desk, balancing her temple against her hand. She contemplates his question.

“A lot of places are boring, especially if it’s all you know. It doesn’t mean that they’re bad though. It can mean you’re familiar with it. That makes a lot of people feel safe.” 

She receives a confused look.

“I guess so. Fortuna’s not safe though. Like when the big statue destroyed the city. Why would you want to live here?”

Skylar pauses. There was something that she was missing, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The fearful look in Julio’s eyes is hauntingly familiar. 

“Simple answer? Adult stuff. They needed people to work and I needed a job. Kind of a win-win.”

Tiling roofs was the last thing she thought she would be doing. Not like she could get a job anywhere else, she’d tried. Batting down her pride, she’d practically begged the stubborn mule that was now her boss for a job. After taking one look at her, he immediately seemed to pin her as a troublemaker. Everything about her already screamed of an outsider. She was amazed he had given her a chance. 

She was lucky Fortuna’s architecture was so perilous. Few dared to walk their sloping spires and treacherous heights. 

To her surprise, Julio doesn’t comment, instead turning back to continue reading. Skylar decides to drop the subject, turning back to her notes. She tries to ignore the foreboding twist at the pit of her stomach.

The next week arrives. Skylar sits in her designated spot, another new book flipped open in her hands. Looking at the clock, she notices it’s a quarter past three. She shrugs. Probably just running late.

Time passes slowly. Every so often she checks the time. She looks at the bookcase. 

Half past three.

Quarter till.

Four.

Huh. Maybe something came up.

Skylar tries not to think about it too much.

Another week. 

Alright, she’ll admit, she’s getting a bit worried about the little guy. After two months of their impromptu book club, Julio’s absence is certainly noticed. She chews on her pen, her anxiety getting the better of her. 

Nothing could have happened to him. Right?

There had been no recent demon attacks in the city limits. At least not to her knowledge. 

Snap!

Great...

Skylar sighs. She spits out the top half of the pen clenched between her teeth. At least she missed the ink cartridge this time. She takes this as a sign to call it a day.

Walking towards the exit, she slows her steps. The librarian sits idly, flipping through a book at her desk. Skylar tosses the choice around in her head.

Damn it.

“Uh, hey, excuse me?” Skylar says walking up to the counter. 

The librarian looks up from her novel. Shrewd eyes scan her face, finally landing on her hair. Skylar can already see the sneer forming on the woman’s lips.

Geez, what was it with everyone and the hair?

“Uh, I was wondering if you’ve seen a kid come by here the last week. About ye high, brown hair, blue backpack? His name is Julio.”

The librarian narrows her eyes, before giving her a grunt and returning to her book. She pointedly ignores her as Skylar stands awkwardly at the counter. 

Great job Skylar. Way to not at all sound like a creep. 

She mentally curses herself, before turning towards the exit. Flipping up her hood, she shoulders open the door, bracing against the rain. 

Fenrir plods beside her, sticking close to her side as they weave through the crowd. It’s not a difficult task, most of the townspeople giving them a wide berth. Some go as far as waiting for them to pass in a nearby doorway of a random shop. Skylar ignores them to the best of her ability.

Her backpack loaded with groceries, a paper bag in her left hand, and another one hanging from Fenrir’s jaws, she just wants to get home before anything spoils. As much as she disliked it, going through town was the fastest way to get to the outskirts. She lowers her head a bit, hoping her height to be less noticeable. 

They’re just about to duck away from the main street when a familiar voice catches her ear. Quirking her head, she motions for Fenrir to follow, turning down a nearby alley. They walk in silence, the beginnings of an argument clear as day. Peeking around a nearby building, Skylar observes the scuffle playing out a few meters away. 

“When are you going to learn freak? You’re not welcome here.”

“Hey! Let me go, Todd! I wasn’t doing anything!”

Julio is shoved against a nearby wall. Surrounded by three older boys, his eyes dart around him, trying to find some means of escape. His breath echo in short bursts, evidence he’d been chased moments earlier. The biggest boy shoves him again.

“In our part of town?” The bully sneers. “Nah, don’t need your weirdness rubbing off on us.”

Julio mumbles something.

“What was that freakazoid?”

Julio straightens his back, defiantly staring the ringleader in the eye.

“I said, I’m not weird!”

“Then where’s your mommy, huh?” Todd hisses back. “Oh right, she left. Now only other freaks want you.” 

“Don’t call them that! Miss Kyrie and Mister Nero aren’t, aren’t—”

“Aren’t what? C’mon, I’m listening.”

“My dad said that Nero guy is cursed or something.” The boy on the left mock whispers. Skylar mentally dubs him “Glasses”. “That’s why he looks so strange.”

“Well, my parents said he’s the reason the Elisions died.” The other lackey responds. “Buzz-cut”, she nicknames him. “He’s why the demons got to them.”  

“Miss Kyrie must be under some type of spell to stay with him. Oh, or maybe she’s cursed too! She’ll probably be next!”

The boys laugh at Julio’s beet-red face. He clenches his fists, rage boiling in his eyes. 

Skylar bristles. The boys’ words irk her, despite not being their target.

Her knees scrap on the pavement, a sharp kick sending her sprawling. Laughs ring above her as the older girl pulls back her leg for another swing. 

“Hey, leave her alone!” 

Eleanor stands in the doorway, staring defiantly at—

The memory kicks her into action. Anything to not relive the past. 

Tucking away her groceries in a nearby doorway, Skylar slinks out of the alley on noiseless footsteps. She gestures to Fenrir to stay put until signaled. The demon’s tail wags in anticipation, his black fur melding with the midday shadows. Julio spots her immediately. Blinking, he’s obviously confused and seems about ready to call out to her. Skylar lifts a finger to her lips to silence him. 

With the bully’s ire focused on their prey, Skylar steps a bit closer. A part of her had been hoping Julio would have come up with a genius comeback, turning the tables on his assailants so that they may never torment him again. 

And the other part…

Well, let’s just say she was very excited to scare the shit out of these brats. 

She leans down a breath width away. They still haven’t noticed her. 

Lucky for them that she wasn’t a demon. 

…or at least a full one. 

“You know, it’s not polite to talk about others behind their back.” She says casually. Her voice echoes right behind them. “You never know whose listening.”

Their reactions are as priceless as she had imagined. Glasses stumbles back, his namesake clattering to the ground. Buzz-cut lets out a pig-like squeal. Todd flails his arms, yelling with his other lackeys. It takes all of her willpower not to laugh.

Todd recovers first, turning to face her with a glare. She can sense the panic rolling off of him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“A passerby who is tired of hearing your crap. Three versus one doesn’t seem very fair.”

“Yeah, well it’s none of your business! So go away!”

“That’s not going to happen.” She states, pulling herself to her full height. She glares down at them. “All three of you need to apologize to Julio and promise to never go near him again. Until that happens, I’ll stay right where I am.”

“Todd, look at her hair. She’s cursed too!”

The three boys look fearfully at the silvery tuft sticking out from under her hood. Rolling her eyes, she lets the hood fall away. What was with the people here and different colored hair? Did they not know hair dye existed?

“Ah yes, look at me all cursed and… stuff.” She says awkwardly with a wave of her hands. “Now you better apologize to Julio or I’ll curse you too.” 

“You wouldn’t! You can’t do that!”

An idea suddenly pops into her head. Skylar crosses her arms, shooting the troublesome trio a devilish grin. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…” She says a bit too gleefully. “Ever heard of a hellhound?”

The Garmr takes his cue, slowly stalking out of the alleyway. Shadows stick to his form, obscuring him to a terrifying effect. He growls a deep bone-shuddering rumble. Skylar doesn’t so much as flinch. 

“If you ever get so much as near him again, I’ll make sure my friend there pays you each a visit.” Her voice drops an octave, matching the fury boiling inside her. “And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Fenrir snarls, his eyes flickering like burning embers. A short burst of flame escapes his maw. Glasses gives an audible gulp. 

The grin turns bloodthirsty.

“I’d get to running if I were you.” She snarls.

Fenrir barks. Claws scraping against the cobblestone street.

The brats run screaming down the road. Skylar watches them, chuckling to herself as one trips. Maybe she went a little overboard. Who could blame her? Don’t make threats if you can’t back them up. 

She turns back to Julio, who stares up at her wide-eyed. Skylar cringes. Damn. Did she scare him too?

“You okay?” She asks gently. Crouching to his level, concern sits heavily in her chest. “They didn’t hurt you, right?”

Julio blinks, continuing his silent staring. His gaze swaps between her and the now quiet alleyway. 

“Um.” He pauses as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Uh, I’m okay Miss Skylar. They didn’t do anything to me.”

“That’s good.” There’s a small sigh of relief. “Those idiots had it coming. It’s not right to pick on others. I’m guessing they’re the ones who gave you that scratch a few weeks ago.”

Julio nods.

People were afraid of things they did not understand. She had learned that very early. She had become accustomed to the wary glances, unknowingly sensing something off with her. Humans had a natural sense of the supernatural, whether they were aware of it or not. To sit somewhere between the uncanny valley made interactions with others difficult. Yet, Julio obviously lacked anything demonic…

Cruelty came in many forms. Despite their hatred for demons, humans shared many qualities with them.  

“Uh, hey Miss Skylar.” 

Julio’s words shake her from her thoughts.

“What’s up?”

He looks nervously behind her. 

“Is there actually a hellhound over there?”

Oh… right… 

She’s not surprised the Garmr hadn’t left his hiding spot. He’s always been aware of his intimidating stature, always careful not to scare the unsuspecting humans around him. From where he had learned such empathy, she still does not know. 

“Not quite.” She turns, addressing the alleyway. “Hey, Fen! You’re good to come out now.”

The Garmr slowly approaches, carefully taking a spot next to her. Sitting down, he tilts his head, curiously staring at Julio with intelligent eyes. His demonic features have vanished.

“Julio, meet Fenrir.” Skylar gestures between them. “Fenrir, Julio.”

Julio stares at Fenrir, unmoving. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was scared stiff. However, Skylar recognizes that fascinated glimmer in his eye. She can only guess how many questions spin inside his brain.

“Don’t worry. He’s not dangerous.” She assures the little scholar. Skylar pats Fenrir’s side. “Honestly, he’s a big goofball most of the time.”

Fenrir nips her arm. The Garmr receives an offended look. 

“Ow. Mean.” She complains.

Julio giggles. 

“So demons can be friendly?” He asks, curiosity back in full force.

“Uh, not really.” Skylar corrects. “It really depends on the ones you meet. In a way, it’s like meeting new people, just... with demons, some are good, but a lot of them are bad. It’s all a big game of chance. But the chance of meeting someone like Fen here is really, really slim.”

Julio nods, his eyes still glued to Fenrir. Shuffling his feet, he seems suddenly nervous. Skylar gives him a questioning look, worried that he was still frightened by the demon. She was ready to tell Fenrir to move away when…

“Can I- can I pet him?”

Skylar tilts her head, not having expected that response. She turns to Fenrir.

“You good with that?”

With a soft bark, Fenrir rises from his spot next to her. He calmly trots over to Julio, lowering his head. Holding out a tentative hand, Julio lets Fenrir give it a cautious sniff. Sitting down, Fenrir raises his right paw with an expectant look. Julio stares at him, confused.

Skylar gives a soft laugh. 

“He wants you to shake his paw. It’s his attempt at being polite.”

Taking the outstretched paw, Julio shakes it. He looks at the demon in wonder.

“Nice to meet you Fenrir. My name is Julio. Thank you for helping me.”

Another happy bark. 

Dropping his paw, Julio holds out his hand again. He giggles as the wolf buts his head against his palm, nuzzling his hand. Scratching his neck with his other hand, the wolf leans deeper into the action, sitting contently.

Skylar rolls her eyes, but relief floods her nonetheless. Although a bit intimidating, Fenrir had a tendency to get along with everyone he met. Her soft-hearted friend loved affection and knew exactly how to use his charms to win almost anyone over. Still, it was a bit of a gamble introducing him to other people.

Julio turns his attention from the mass of fur. 

“He’s so fluffy!” 

A grin.

“That he is.” Skylar agrees with a laugh. 

Scratching Fenrir’s chin, his hand ghosts over the scar on his muzzle. Julio crinkles his brow, worried.

“What happened to his nose?” He asks. “Why is there a big mark on it?”

She’s starving, shivering, drenched. Heaving herself into the warehouse, she collapses beside the broken window. A pained growl drags her back to the present. Blood stains the dirty floors. A blade plunged in tattered flesh. Burning eyes bore into her soul. Trapped and helpless. She knew the feeling all too well.

Skylar holds back a shudder, taking a controlled breath.

“Let’s just say our friendship had a bit of a rocky start.” She explains, focusing on keeping her voice steady. Focus. Focus. That was years ago. “Both of us weren’t in a good place.”

It’s obvious he wants to pry, the question hanging on the tip of his tongue. She shouldn’t be surprised. The kid was observant. To her relief, Julio simply nods, turning his attention back to Fenrir. 

Tapping her foot, a thought suddenly crosses her mind. Digging into her jacket, she pulls out a square, blue piece of paper and a marker. On a nearby flat surface, she scribbles the necessary sigils, before folding the crumpled paper into an origami crane. With Julio distracted, she subtly presses a flare of magic into the paper creature. The runes glow gently and the crane flutters for a moment before stilling again. 

“Hey, Julio.” She calls, catching his attention. “Can I give you something?”

To Fenrir’s disappointment, Julio stands to address her. 

“What is it, Miss Skylar?”

Skylar offers the paper critter to Julio. He takes it, obviously confused.

“A paper bird?”

“Not just any paper bird. It’s a magic paper bird. If you ever are in trouble you can use it to call me.”

Julio’s jaw drops. He looks at the crane with renewed curiosity.

“Really?” 

“Yep. Just toss it in the air and it’ll come and find me. And don’t worry, it’s a little speed demon so it’ll… well it’s not actually a demon, but you get the point. It doesn’t have to be Todd and his goons either. If you need help or you feel like you’re in danger, you can use it.”

Julio holds the crane close, his gaze cast downwards. He suddenly seems nervous.

“What if it’s demons?” He asks after a moment, his voice timid. Scared. “Do I throw it then?”

Her insides squirm, confirming her suspicions that this child has experienced the horrors of the supernatural. He’s around the age she was when…

“Especially if it’s demons.” Skylar nods, her expression growing somber. “You even see one, you hurl that little bird. Anytime, anywhere. Got it?”

Steeling himself, Julio meets her eye. He gives her a determined nod. 

“Got it.”

Chapter Text

“Make sure you don’t drop those tiles, missy!”

“Yeah, yeah! I got it! You should be yelling at Travis over there! He’s the klutz!”

“Don’t drag me into this snowball!”

Skylar snorts, balancing the stack of shingles in her arms. Deftly stepping on the unfinished roof, she carefully places them on a stable surface. She stands there for a moment, overlooking the city. 

Damn, she loved when they got jobs like this. 

The church spire allowed for a breathtaking view of Castle Town, the glittering ocean dancing in the distance. She still needed to make a trip out there, but working and researching in the library took most of her time. Maybe when spring came around. 

“I don’t know how you can stomp around up here like it’s nothing. I don’t even want to look down.”

Travis sets down his own albeit smaller stack of roof tiles. He adjusts his tool belt, always having one hand on the slopped roof. She’s surprised by the man’s nervousness about heights, having retired from an organization that hunted literal demons. Although in his early forties, he has impeccable balance. She shouldn’t be one to judge she reminds herself, everyone had their stuff.

“I’ve always liked heights.” She answers. “The wind, the view, there’s just something about it.”

“Whatever you say snowball. I for one prefer my feet on solid ground.”

“Sky’s in the name for a reason.”

Travis huffs a laugh before carefully scooting back down the rooftop. When she had been hired on, Skylar had tried her best to keep her head down and stay out of trouble. She didn’t need to make friends, she didn’t need to socialize. Yet, for some reason, Travis hadn’t accepted that always making sure to work with her on more extreme jobs such as this one. 

“Here.” She remembers him handing her a crumpled paper bag. She had taken it cautiously and with a good amount of confusion. “I was talking with the missus and made a comment that you never brought anything to eat. Can’t do work like this on an empty stomach.”

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t tear up after Travis had walked away. From that day onward, the older man always had an extra set of eyes watching his back, making especially sure he didn’t get hurt. 

Skylar follows him with confident strides, footsteps eerily silent on the wooden bones of the roof. Travis grabs onto the scaffolding with a relieved sigh. 

“Ready for another trip up?” She teases watching him catch his breath.

“Dark Knight save me. Ugh, this is the worst.”

“Don’t let Craig hear you say that. He’ll go on another rant about how in his day he would have had this job already finished and another halfway there.”

She receives a tired smirk. 

Skylar reaches down to grab another pile, only to freeze as something catches her ear. Travis is halfway up the roof before he turns to shoot her a questioning look.

“Are you coming? And here you were giving me grief for lagging behind.”

Skylar ignores him, stalking the edge of the roof. She looks down to see the other construction workers mulling around below. Everything seems to be normal, Craig yelling orders to a confused electrician, and another roofer climbing up the ladder. 

Then why…

Her right arm itches like something's crawling beneath the bandage-bound scales. A shiver runs down her spine. 

“Everyone on the roof! Now!” She yells. 

Craig looks up at her, ready to ask what the hell she’s shouting about. The words die in his mouth as he hears an unmistakable shrill shriek. 

Pandemonium.

“Go! Go! Go!” He orders, waving on his crew. 

Workers scrabble up the scaffolding as demons flood the courtyard below. Travis has joined her, helping the other workers up the precarious structure. Skylar counts about ten demons, a variety of Hell Antenoras and Scarecrows. Small fry, she sighs relieved. 

The feeling is short-lived when she notices Craig’s still on the ground, trying to help up a worker. A Hell Antenora shambles towards them.

Skylar curses.

Swinging from the roof, she lands heavily on the plank walkway. The workers on the roof yell, Travis shouting something. Bolting towards a discarded pipe, she snatches it, her eyes still locked on target. Her tool belt drops onto the uneven surface. Craig and the worker desperately try to ascend the ladder. 

Skylar vaults off the walkway. 

Screech!

The pipe jams into the Hell Antenora’s chest, staggering it backwards. It writhes, trying to free itself from the makeshift weapon. Skylar obliges, kicking it across the courtyard. The pipe drips with demonic ichor. 

The clattering footsteps behind her have paused. Craig and his crew stare at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief. 

“Don’t just stand there!” She roars. A Scarecrow is smashed like a piñata. Beetles scurry away from their host. “Keep going!”

Ducking under a Scarecrow’s swipe, she swings the pipe like a baseball bat. The Scarecrow smashes into a nearby dumpster. Skylar grabs a nearby crowbar and hurls it at the demon. It pins it to the dented green metal. She parries a strike from a Hell Antenora. The pipe splits in two. She curses.

A hammer finds a home in the demon’s skull. 

“Travis! Pull the ladder up!” 

She doesn’t look up onto the roof, the telltale sound of footsteps ceasing. Yanking the crowbar out of the dissolving Scarecrow, she slugs its kin, swiping at it with her newly acquired weapon. She hisses as its bladed leg grazes her arm.

“But what about—“

Another demon squirms under her boot. Skylar promptly dispatches it. 

“I’ll kick it down if you don’t! Do you want to be stuck on the roof?”

There’s a moment of hesitation. However, Skylar is relieved to hear the sound of scraping metal. With a running start, she twists in the air, narrowly avoiding the edge of a rusty cleaver. She lands noiselessly a couple of meters away. A frustrated growl rumbles in her chest. If only she had Ragnarök. 

A flutter of paper catches her attention. Skylar’s heart drops as she watches a blue origami crane flutter in the air. She weighs her options, quickly deciding her course of action.

Change of plans.

The crane zips down the street. She follows close behind, demonic screeching right on her tail.

“C’mon then.” She snarls in Infernal before clanging the crowbar against a nearby pole. “Try and keep up.”

Julio holds her hand, obviously not fond of the chaos in the market. Kyrie doesn’t mind, happy that the young boy feels safe being around her. He’s always been so shy. 

She enjoys strolling through town. Watching the city be restored to its former glory was uplifting. It gave a strange sense of hope, an act of defiance to the demons and the organization that wreaked havoc through her home. Fortuna was a part of her, no matter how some of the more unsavory people treated her, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. All of her memories were here. 

She slides the needed funds to the stall owner, takes her goods, and gives him a nod of thanks. He smiles back at her, before turning to another customer. Opening her patchwork bag, she stores the two jars of honey away. It’s only then she notices Julio looking intently at a nearby stall selling books.

“Do you want to go over and take a look?” Kyrie asks.

Julio looks up at her, surprised. He eagerly nods, already creeping towards the hoard of literature.

They peruse the stall for a good half hour, flipping through well-worn novels and moth-eaten pages. At the moment, Kyrie isn’t interested in the more romantic stories lining the rickety shelves. While she enjoyed them, the lessons stored in many of the surrounding boxes seemed more worth her attention. 

Julio gasps beside her.

“This one looks good!” Julio exclaims, holding up a book to show her the cover.

Wielding a needle, an illustrated mouse rushes across the worn paperback. The Tale of Despereaux scrawls in looping cursive above the unorthodox swordsman. Kyrie snickers to herself, the drawing reminding her of a certain swordsman at home. 

“That looks wonderful Julio. Maybe Kyle and Carlo will like to read along with you as well.”

Julio makes a face.

“But Kyle doesn’t even like to read.”

“Yes, but maybe he would like reading with you. I would ask him. I think you will be surprised by what he says.”

Kyle had confided in her that he wanted to play with Julio but didn’t know how to approach him. The boys were so different, with Julio’s penchant for literature compared to Kyle’s love for sports and outdoor play. Trying to find a playmate for him was difficult and Carlo still too young to join in on the fun. Kyle had also taken a shine to the older boy, evidently wanting Julio to like him. Unfortunately, Julio still didn’t completely understand that and at times complained that Kyle was annoying and clingy.

It wasn’t a surprise. Julio had grown up an only child for the majority of his life and had been forced to find ways to entertain himself. Nonetheless, Kyrie felt bad for Kyle, hating how dejected he looked when the older boy brushed him off.

Baby steps, she has to remind herself. Baby steps.  

“Well, maybe it’ll be a good storytime book. Nero may even read along if he’s feeling up to it.”

“And do the silly voices?!”

“And do the silly voices.”

Nero always made it a point to come home before the boys went to bed. While sometimes it wasn’t possible with the nature of his work, Kyrie always appreciated that he still tried his hardest. Demons continued to run rampant despite the hell gates being destroyed. It was people like Nero who kept everyone safe.

Even if some people didn’t appreciate it. 

“Oh, hello Kyrie! How are you today?”

Kyrie greets the middle-aged stall owner. The woman adjusts her glasses, the corners of her eyes crinkling upwards from the friendly greeting. Mrs. Agosti, if Kyrie remembers correctly.

“I’m well, thank you. Julio and I were just running some errands. Work has been a bit hectic the last week so it’s been difficult to find the time.”

A few months back, she had taken up a job helping at the local clinic. While she didn’t necessarily have any medical experience, extra hands were always needed, so she tried her best to take every new experience as something to learn. It also helped that much of the staff was so friendly, the doctors and nurses seeing firsthand the destruction Sanctus wrought. They were some of the first to rally around her when she explained how Nero had saved all of them from the demons.

She likes to keep busy. She likes to help, to save people in her own way. She likes not thinking about how she could have saved him if she hadn’t been so gullible, so weak in the face of danger. That he would still be here if—

“Well, I’ll have to stop by soon and drop off some more donations. Is the book drive still going, isn’t it? I have some writing books that might be of some use.”

Kyrie idly bobs her head, dragging her attention back to the conversation at hand. She plasters on a pleasant smile.

“That would be very helpful, thank you.”

Pulling out her wallet, she thumbs past the neatly folded receipts to pay for the books. 

“By the way, did you and Nero happen to adopt a dog?” The older woman suddenly asks. Kyrie pauses her search to raise an eyebrow.

“Um, no? Why do you ask?”

Mrs. Agosti slides off her glasses, tapping one of the temples against her cheek.

“Well, my youngest was out the other day and saw someone with white hair walking a large hound. Swore it was him.”

Julio stiffens beside her for some unexplainable reason. 

Of course, Kyrie notices. What was running through the little boy’s head for such a reaction? Regardless, she brushes it off. Maybe he was frightened of dogs? Still, other than the elderly population, Nero was the only one with a head of silvery hair. Maybe there was some kind of misunderstanding, a trick of the light?

They pay for their newly acquired literature and continue to make small talk at the counter. Eventually, Julio and her wave goodbye, the clerk promising to swing by at a later date.

Swinging her arms, Kyrie hums a soft, playful tune. Julio skips beside her, humming along with her, clearly enjoying the warm autumn day. They wander closer to the bus stop and find a group of people sitting and waiting. Others stroll on the sidewalk, also enjoying the beautiful day. 

Now all she needed to do was catch the bus and make it home to start dinner. Nero was probably on his way to pick Kyle and Carlo up from daycare, so she had some time to do a few chores while the house was quiet. She was extremely thankful that he had taken the initiative, as now she didn’t have to travel across town. Maybe she could ask him to pick up some jam while he was out. They had run out of the blackberry that Kyle was so particular about…

Click, click, click…

Kyrie tugs Julio a bit closer to her as a chill runs through the air.

Hiss!

Bricks shatter on the ground. A large reptilian demon crawls down a nearby building. People scream, fleeing the area. Julio grips her hand, trembling next to her. 

Run.

They push through the crowd of fleeing citizens. Someone shoves into her, causing her to trip but she quickly catches herself. Regaining her footing, she drags Julio behind her trying her best to lead him away from harm. Eventually, she scoops him up, before sprinting with him.

He weighs heavily in her arms. 

Skidding to a halt, they duck into an alleyway. Kyrie pants, setting Julio down in an attempt to regain her breath. Her arms shudder from the change in weight. Scanning the area, she makes sure they weren’t followed. A moment later, she grabs her phone from her bag and calls the only person that can help them.

“Kyrie?” Nero answers on the second ring. “Hey meadowlark, what’s up?”

His voice already soothes her nerves. She tries to maintain her composure. 

“Demons on Third Street near the bus stop. We’re okay, but I don’t—“

“Where are you?” There’s a flurry of movement. A door slams open. His footsteps echo as he enters the garage. 

“We’re in an alleyway near Mr. Leoni’s café.” 

“I’m coming right now. Stay on the line, alright? If you see an opportunity to run, get out of there. Only if it’s safe though.”

“What about the Kyle and Carlo?” 

“Still at daycare. They’re going to be okay Kyrie. You and Julio are priority right now.”

She can hear his breakneck pace through the phone. He must have put her on speakerphone, freeing his hands of any distractions. Outside the alley, she can still hear the sounds of people fleeing, demons running rampant downtown. Glancing at Julio, she watches as he digs through his backpack. His desperate search rewards him with a crumbled piece of paper. Kyrie looks at it confused. 

A blue origami crane.

And what’s that strange writing all over—

After straightening the crane’s wings, Julio pulls his arm back. He throws it with all his might. 

To Kyrie’s astonishment, the crane flutters to life, flapping its delicate wings. It zips off without a sound.

She blinks.

“What…” 

“Kyrie? Everything still alright?” Nero asks, his voice muffled. 

“Yes. I think so. Julio just… I really don’t know actually.”

She crouches down, meeting Julio’s gaze. Kyrie can see the worry in his eyes, the poor boy trying his best to keep calm in the nightmarish situation. He clutches his new book to his chest. Holding out her hand, Julio takes it and Kyrie makes sure to give it a soft, comforting squeeze.

“Don’t worry Julio,” Kyrie assures. “We’re going to be safe. Nero’s on his way to help us. Okay?”

“Yeah, almost there bud. Gotta few more streets.”

With a sniffle, Julio jerkily nods his head. 

“You being so brave, sweetheart. Were you trying to help Nero with the paper crane? Did you make it?”

Julio shakes his head. 

“Miss Skylar gave it to me. She told me if I was ever in trouble to throw it and she would come and find me.”

Kyrie pauses.

“Who’s Miss Skylar?”

“The nice lady from the library. She has a really cool dog.”

Kyrie fiddles with a stray lock of hair, twirling it anxiously. Julio had talked about someone at the library he used to visit before they started fostering him. She had thought it was just one of the librarians there, but evidently, she had been wrong. Librarians didn’t give away enchanted paper cranes, at least to her knowledge. 

Who or what had Julio just called?

“Did you hear that Nero?” Kyrie asks, lowering her voice a bit. 

“You’re dam- dang right I did.” He sighs. “We’ll deal with that later. For now, just… keep an eye out.”

They sit in uncomfortable silence, Nero’s footsteps pounding against the road. Red Queen revs every so often, followed by the thunderous snap of Blue Rose. It rings simultaneously from the phone’s speaker and the street, a deadly duet of bloodshed. The Order’s knights trying to fend off the demonic onslaught only add to the chaos. However, by the sound of it, it seems like they’re winning. 

Click. Click.

Kyrie freezes. She motions Julio to stand, herding him behind her. They step deeper into the alley. Static hisses from her phone.

“Ky— You… are—“

The line goes dead.

Shadows dance at the mouth of the passage, glinting reptilian eyes staring at them. Kyrie clutches her bag tighter. She wouldn’t let them get to Julio without a fight. The demons stalk closer, chittering amongst themselves. Her eyes dart around the brick death trap, desperate for some way of escape.

Nothing. 

One of the beats snarls, clicking its talons. Julio whimpers behind her. More chittering. 

Footsteps patter against the rooftops. A tall, hooded form drops from above, standing between them and the demons. 

Hope floods through her. 

Nero?

A paper creature lands on their shoulder.

No, not Nero. Red Queen and Blue Rose are nowhere in sight. Kyrie doesn’t recognize the blood-splattered sweatshirt, Nero never having a taste for green. The stranger tilts their head so that their attention never leaves the demons before them. 

“Hey, Julio!” The mystery woman greets. She sounds too chipper standing in front of the hoard of monsters. “Sorry for the delay. Traffic is really bad today.”

“Miss Skylar! You’re here!”

A puff of laughter. 

“Of course I am. Good going, by the way, this was exactly what I was talking about. Now, I’d recommend not watching this part. It’s about to get a little icky.”

The demons hiss something, one raking its claws against the concrete. Skylar hisses back, the sound sending a chill down Kyrie’s spine. The woman widens her stance, blocking them both from the demons’ view. A growl rumbles through the alleyway. 

“You want to do this the hard way?” Skylar snarls, her voice pitching downwards an octave, unnaturally echoing off the walls. “Fine. Bring it.”

With a snap of its jaws, a plumed demon strikes first. It jumps between the opposing walls, bounding toward their unexpected guardian. A claw swipes forwards. Skylar sidesteps, grabbing the creature's outstretched arm. 

She smashes its writhing body into the ground. 

Kyrie jumps back as the demon suddenly bursts into flames, fire eagerly devouring its flesh. 

Within seconds, the monster’s dead, only its charred bones remaining. 

“So…” Skylar drawls, casually rolling up her sleeves. Something shines under the thick bandages wrapped around her right arm. “Who’s next?”

There’s a whirlwind of movement. One moment, Skylar’s wrestling with one of the demons, another, she’s tearing into one of their scaly hides. She barely blocks a bite, the demon latching onto her right arm. It is hurled into another of its pack. Plumes of fire follow its ascent. 

Kyrie stands there, frozen in shock. Julio shakes next to her, flinching when Skylar bites back a pained yell as one of the demons claws her. Grabbing a nearby bin, she hurls it at the creature. Stunned, the demon receives a kick to its chest.

Crack!

It collapses.

Using the bin’s lid, she blocks her next attacker, only for it to shred through the flimsy aluminum. It jumps on her, desperately trying to scale her back. Skylar stumbles back, blindly grabbing for her assailant. She does her best to cover her neck, lest the demon snap it in two. Its malformed jaw instead latches onto her shoulder.

A strangled yell rips from her throat.

Whirling around, Skylar crashes onto her back, the force disorienting the creature. She struggles to pin the demon down. With a flick of her wrist, the beast falls silent, the remains of the demon’s throat dripping from what seems to be... 

Splat!

Another demon rushes the woman to avenge its fallen comrade. Barreling into her, it uses its momentum to pin her to the street. Her shoulder bleeding profusely, Skylar wrestles with her opponent, locking her hands with the demon's claws to keep its snapping maw away. Its claws sink into the flesh of her hands, yet she continues to hold on. 

Kyrie’s heart thuds against her chest. 

There was no time to think. The Scarecrow throws itself into the air, blades eager to tear into the weeping child. She curls herself around him, hoping, praying, that he may be spared. She was no soldier, no knight, no Nero, no Credo. All she had was her faith, faith that all would be good in the world, that she and her loved one would be safe. But how was any of this good? Her breath stutters. Fear. Not for herself. She had failed, failed—

Plunging her hand into her bag, Kyrie yanks out a clear vial. Dashing forward, she pops the cork and slings back her arm. The demon turns to her, growling, ready to strike. 

The vial’s contents splash onto Skylar and the demon. 

Screech!

The reaction is instant. As if it were a caustic substance, the holy water eats away at the demon’s flesh, deforming its already hideous maw further. It springs back, roaring and spitting as it desperately tries to rid itself of the liquid. 

Skylar bounds upwards, aggressively wiping at her face and arms. Her skin sizzles where she’d been splashed. Angry red burns mar the exposed flesh, and ugly welts begin to form. To her surprise, Kyrie watches as the woman’s hands stitch back together before her very eyes. Her shoulder oozes, having formed an ugly-looking scab. 

The demons surge forwards.

“Run! Go! Now!” Skylar commands, blocking the creatures’ path.

Kyrie doesn’t have to be told twice.

Lifting Julio into her arms for the second time today, Kyrie makes for the street. A demon snaps at her, only to be dragged away by its tail. It howls at its violent demise. She keeps her head down to avoid any loose debris. Something snarls next to her. 

She’s not sure who or what it is. 

Kyrie continues to run, despite being clear of the alleyway. With no way of knowing how long the woman could hold the demons off, there was still a good chance they were in danger. Her legs burn with every step. 

Finally, she catches a glimpse of a familiar blue coat and red hood. Kyrie bites back a sob of relief. 

“Kyrie! Julio!” Nero calls. He dashes towards them. 

Wrapping them in a hug, he exhales a shaky breath. Specks of blood stain his shoulder. 

“Are you two alright?” He asks, analyzing them for any injuries. His posture is tense, filled with worry. “When the phone went dead I…”

“No, no, Nero we’re okay. We’re okay. They didn’t touch us.”

Julio tugs at his coat, his eyes full of tears. 

“Mister Nero!” He hiccups. “Miss Skylar is still back there! We’ve got to go help her!”

Kyrie stiffens. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten about the mysterious woman in the alleyway. Her attention had been so focused on getting Julio to safety. 

Nero dips down to Julio’s level, his hand hovering over the boy’s arm as if uncertain how to calm him. 

“Hold on bud. Who—?”

“She saved us! But she sounded like she was hurt! She’s probably still there!”

Julio’s evident distress has Nero glancing up at her, confusion and panic flitting across his features. She knows how much he hates seeing the boys upset and hates it more when he can’t do anything about it. Kyrie tries to answer his silent plea for help.

“It’s true Nero. Whoever she is, she protected us. And there- there were a lot of them.”

“Please Mister Nero!” Julio pleads, suddenly grabbing hold of Nero’s sleeve to his surprise. “She could be really hurt!”

Nero sighs, sweeping his free hand through his hair. One of the longer locks sticks up strangely from the action. Kyrie can tell he just wants to go home where he knows it’s safe. However, his resistance crumbles at Julio’s watering eyes. 

“Alright, fine. We’ll take a quick look. But both of you have to stay close. Any sign of danger and you two high tail it.”

They silently make their way back to the alley, the sound of fighting having died off. Nero signals them to stay at the entrance. With Blue Rose at the ready, he steps into the shadows. 

“Well, well, well...” He whistles impressed. “Someone did some damage here. Julio, you should stay back. This is something you don’t want to see.”

Despite the warning, Julio cautiously peers around from behind her. He holds her hand again in an attempt to find comfort. Kyrie runs her thumb over the back of his hand hoping to soothe him.

“Is Miss Skylar there? Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure. But I can take a closer look if you want.”

Julio hastily nods, holding Kyrie’s hand tighter. Reluctantly, Nero takes that as a signal to investigate.

Strolling through the carnage, Nero exhales another shaking breath, trying to control his trembling hands. That had been indescribably close. He should have been faster, should have been more on guard. He had power, but what good was it when he couldn’t use it? Nero shakes his head and tries his damnedest to shove down the roiling emotions.

That was something to dwell on later. 

Inspecting a deteriorating corpse, Nero analyzes the obvious burn marks littering the Assualt’s thick hide. Glancing around, Nero counts eight Assaults, all in various states of decay. He turns to a pile of smoldering ash and notices a charred skull.

Okay. Nine. 

Scanning the area, there is no sign of the mystery woman Julio spoke about. He sniffs the air, cringing at the scent of rotting demon. Nevertheless, he tries to separate the strange amalgamation of smells. Something at the end of the dead-end alley catches his attention.

Crouching down, he inspects the pool of crimson near the wall. It’s too bright to be demon blood, but it doesn’t smell like human blood either. Looking up, he follows a trail dribbling down the side of the alley only to find a claw-like gouge in the sturdy brick. A splatter drips from the roof’s ledge.

Seems like “Miss Skylar” was still kicking.

It would be easy to track her down. Probably would take an hour, tops. A part of him was still itching for a fight to burn off the anxiety still racing through him.

He sighs. 

Begrudgingly, he turns around, hopping over the crater left in the middle of the sidewalk. 

He had more important things to worry about. Whatever was in the alley could wait.

He had his family to protect.

Chapter Text

Skylar rolls her shoulder. Although healed, it was still a bit stiff from the scuffle a few days earlier. It’d been a while since she’d taken a hit like that. 

It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to being thrown around. Even when she and Fenrir sparred, they were usually left somewhat worse for wear. Honestly, it was just the way things were. Using yourself as a human shield was a completely different story. 

A wince.

That Assault had bitten down hard. 

Flopping onto the couch, she kicks her feet up on her freshly scavenged coffee table. Fenrir was off doing who knows what in the woods, probably playing with his new demonic friends. Skylar snorts at the image of three kittens “attacking” her “fearsome” companion. Despite the wolf’s protests, she knew he adored the little cubs. How could anyone not? Despite being demons, they were absolutely adorable. 

Skylar yawns. Maybe she should just close her eyes for a bit. She had some time to kill before Fenrir came back asking about dinner. Leaning her head back, she—

She jumps. A shrill ringtone jars her awake. Groaning, she answers her phone.

“Yeah?”

“Hello? Skylar, this is Craig. Are you busy?”

Snapping awake, Skylar sits up with full attention. A nervous jitter shudders through her.

“Oh uh, no, not at all. Uh, what can I do for you?”

Great. Here we go. Better get the resumes ready.

“I wanted to call to make sure you’re doing alright. You gave quite the scare on-site missy.”

Skylar chews the inside of her cheek. She stands, pacing around the room.

“Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that. I… I just didn’t know what else to do. Was everyone able to get out safely?”

“Arturo sprained his ankle, but he should be fine. Nothing a little ice and rest won’t fix.”

“Good. I’m glad. I’m not a fan of close calls.”

“Neither am I. Which is another reason I’m calling.”

The pacing becomes more erratic. Swapping her phone to her scaled hand, she runs her fingers through her hair. She takes a deep breath, exhaling unsteadily.

“I’ll make sure to return my stuff on Monday.” Her words fuel her dread. “I’ll be out of your hair right after.”

Silence. 

“What?!” Craig exclaims. “That’s not— I’m trying to give you a job.”

She freezes mid-step. 

“Huh?”

“Or something closer to a new position.” He continues to explain. “You seem familiar with demons. At least, with killing them?”

A snort.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Good, then the next time you come in, you’re in charge of lookout. If any demons pop up again, you get free reign to handle them. I’ll even raise your pay for the extra work.”

Her thoughts screech to a halt.

“You’re kidding.” 

“No, I’m not. I’m serious about keeping my crew safe. If the Order’s Knights aren’t going to do anything about the sudden outbreaks, I’m willing to take matters into my own hands.”

Leaning against the back of the couch, Skylar attempts to reign in her astonished tone.

“Wow, Craig, I uh, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Craig chuckles on the other side of the line.

“I should be thanking you, missy. You saved a lot of good men back there. I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure about you at first, but you seem like a good kid. Just make sure you don’t go slacking off.”

She stands at attention, despite being the only one in her living room at the moment.

“I won’t sir. I’ll do my best. I, uh, do have one question though.”

“Mhm?”

“How do you feel about swords?”

The other side of the line goes silent again.

“You know we’re in Fortuna, right?”

They talk logistics for the next half hour, Skylar scribbling down notes on a discarded napkin. They would write up an official document the next time they met. Clicking the pen closed, she tosses it on the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll be there on Monday bright and early. Thanks again.”

She ends the call. Carefully placing the phone next to the discarded pen, she sits there silently. 

“Holy shit.” Skylar breathes, flabbergasted.

“Holy shit!” She crows, jumping into the air with a pump of her fist. Excitement bubbles in her chest. 

Not only had Craig given her the extra work, but he had also bumped her pay to something she had only dreamed of. For the first time in, well, forever, she felt like her life was stabilizing. She wasn’t being fired, and probably wouldn’t be fired as long as she didn’t screw up. Hell, she was in Craig’s good graces. Craig of all people. Skylar would never have expected that. 

Flopping back down on the couch, she let’s out a sigh of relief. A laugh bubbles from her throat. 

She couldn’t wait to tell Fen.

Something scratches at the back door. Looking up from her dented laptop, it’s only then that she realizes how late it’s gotten. Did Fen get locked out? She flips the laptop closed and reaches out with her senses. 

That wasn’t right.  

Unlocking the door, she swings it open to find Nyx staring up at her. The Shadow grumbles a greeting, tilting her head to peer behind her. 

”No, Fenrir’s not here at the moment.” She explains, idly scratching the nape of her neck. ”To be honest, I thought he was with you.”

Nyx lets out an irritated growl. However, there’s a bit of worry behind it. 

Fenrir’s absence was a bit strange, but it wasn’t the first time he’s been this late. Chewing the side of her cheek, Skylar sighs. She strides back inside to grab her boots. Better safe than sorry. 

Tugging at her sleeve, the familiar leather scent of her jacket soothes her nerves. The enchantments sewed into its dark burgundy interior flare to life, recognizing its creator. Flipping up her hood, she swings Ragnarök onto her back. The door clicks shut behind her. 

The wind weaves between the trees, rattling the balding branches. The smell of rain permeates through the air, signaling the incoming storm. Nyx pads noiselessly beside her, violet eyes roving the landscape. Skylar ramps up her pace, fearful of losing Fenrir’s trail. Her steps are silent against the leaf-covered ground. The dark color of her jacket allows her to walk as a wraith in the dense woods.  

Something wet rolls down the bridge of her nose. 

The sky opens up, raindrops splattering to the ground. Lightning cracks above her, thunder rolling quickly behind. She curses, the rain washing away any trace of her friend. Nyx growls, sharing her sentiments. Nonetheless, they continue to search. Fenrir would have tried to avoid the rain, especially with a storm like this. He would have come home.

Where is he?

A deafening bang cracks through the air. Skylar stills. Another follows soon after.

That wasn’t thunder. 

The rain does well to disguise her frantic steps. Vaulting over a rotting log, she takes a hard right, following the gunshots. There’s a familiar snarl. Fenrir’s scent wafts toward her. He smells of blood.

She runs faster, the Shadow sprinting right beside her.

Breaking the tree line, she watches Fenrir skid backward, his panting breaths fueling the anxiety swirling within her. His shoulder bleeds sluggishly from a large gunshot wound. Favoring his left paw, he makes a break for it, fleeing with uneven steps. He freezes just in time, a shot tearing through a nearby tree. 

“Not quite the big bad wolf that I was expecting. Eh, oh well.”

A humanoid figure walks out of the undercover. In his left hand is a wicked-looking revolver. The motorized sword on his back screams the same deadly finesse. The red hood of his navy blue coat obscures his features, making it difficult to read the intruder. Fenrir growls, standing his ground. 

Why wasn’t he defending himself? 

“Sorry Fido, looks like this is the end of the line. It’s the huntsman’s axe for you.”

The hunter draws his sword, stalking toward his prey. 

Despite the shitty weather, the hunt had been going surprisingly well. After getting a call about some hellhound running amok through Fortuna, Nero had been able to trace it to the outskirts of the city. With Fortuna’s big rebuild in full swing, areas this far out were usually neglected. It allowed the demon scum to come crawling back in and create a foothold. Not that it really mattered. No one lived this far out from the city. It was too dangerous with all the demons lurking about.

Firing Blue Rose, he scowls as the hellhound suddenly changes directions. He was surprised at how fast it was, a harder target than he initially thought. Nero lines up his shot again. While Blue Rose was not specifically designed for such a long range, enhanced senses gave him an extra edge. 

The demon leaps. 

Bang!

Yelp!

Jackpot. 

The rain’s really picking up. Adjusting his hood to shield himself from the downpour, Nero ducks under a low-hanging branch. He hadn’t expected so much of a chase. Breaking through to the clearing, he watches as the demon tries to flee again. 

Bang!

He was getting sick of this game of cat and mouse. Walking forwards, he deftly reloads Blue Rose.

“Not quite the big bad wolf that I was expecting. Eh, oh well.”

The hellhound growls at him, seemingly at a loss of what to do. Fire dances from its jaws and glows beneath its dense fur. Obsidian spines peek out from its back, glittering in the dim light. Cornered with nowhere left to go, it’s only option was to fight, something Nero hadn’t seen much of yet. The whole situation felt… off. The client had described the demon as a bloodthirsty, violent monster, intent on devouring children. From what he’d observed so far, the demon in front of him didn’t fit the bill. 

Nero’s mind wanders to Julio, Kyle, and Carlo.

Can’t take any chances. Not after the alley.

“Sorry Fido, looks like this is the end of the line. It’s the huntsman’s axe for you.”

Drawing Red Queen, he expects some reaction from the hellhound. Part of him wanted the demon to attack, a weird sort of justification for slaying the beast. However, even as he strides forwards, the hellhound doesn’t move. Nero sighs. Now he just felt like an asshole.

Red Queen weighs heavy in his hand. He’ll make sure to—

He backpedals, a large feline demon swiping at his head. It roars, its dark coat bristling with demonic energy. It seems ready to strike again but freezes at a harsh guttural snarl. A figure steps out from the brush. The demon, a Shadow he realizes, snarls back at it. There’s a flare of demonic power and a hiss catches his ear. With an annoyed grumble, the two demons flee from the corner of his vision. He moves to pursue them, not keen on losing his target.

A glint of steel.

He narrowly avoids the blade swinging past his face. Another slice, Red Queen parries in turn. 

Nero turns to face his new adversary. 

The rain makes it hard to see the woman standing before him. Her form seems to meld with the shadow laden landscape, her crimson hood hiding her features. A broadsword is clutched tightly in her left hand. His Devil Bringer itches. 

Another demon?

“Hey Red Riding Hood, I was in the middle of something! Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt?”

He knows the nickname is a bit hypocritical, but with her lupine companion, it’s too perfect to pass up. Her feet shuffle into an aggressive stance. Unlike the demonic wolf, she seems keen on fighting. 

“Could ask the same of you.” She snaps at him. Her voice carries a guttural undertone. “You’re trespassing on my terr— property. Get out, before I make you.”

“And let two dangerous demons go? Yeah, sorry lady, not happening. And speaking of demo—”

Red Queen parries another strike, the force radiating up his arm. Nero’s eyebrows raise. That was a lot more powerful than he had expected. Countering, Red Queen bares down on his opponent’s sword. Even throwing his weight into the swing, the demon pushes back. She uses the flat side of her blade to leverage against him. 

Clang!

Another strike, another block. A symphony of battle like no other.

Thunder roars above them. 

Red Queen answers in turn, the Exceed hissing at the droplets of rain. Steam billows from the super-heated blade. His opponent does not look perturbed by the fiery display. Instead, she twirls her sword. The metal sizzles, the runes adorning it pulsing with a warm glow. 

Nero can’t help but smirk. It’d been a while since he’s fought anyone that could keep up with him. There’s a part of him that’s glad the hellhound escaped. He revs the Exceed to its maximum. 

This was going to be good.  

He pulls his arm back for a backhanded strike, before feinting and suddenly changing his grip. His opponent grunts at the impact of the swing. Red Queen struggles against the heavy rainfall, her sputtering flames licking at the woman’s sleeve. 

Her movements are fast and aggressive, with a sort of primal ferocity behind every strike. Every swing seems to have a purpose, momentum transferred from one string of combos to the next. There’s a strange elegance behind it. 

Yet despite the impressive display of speed, Nero picks out the many flaws in her swordsmanship. Her movements may be fluid, but her posture leaves room for openings, her footwork creating venerabilities. This was clearly someone with no formal training. 

Her back foot sits at a weird angle.

“Better watch you’re footing.” He warns, curious if she’ll take the hint. “It’d be pretty pathetic if you tripped.”

“It’s called home-field advantage for a reason.” She scoffs. “What? Is a little mud slowing you down?”

“As if!”

Another flurry of swings.

That back foot again. 

Nero ducks into a crouch, sweeping at the faulty leg. 

The woman trips sideways. Using her right arm, she launches herself into a sideways flip. His Devil Bringer tears into her leg, a spray of blood splattering with the rain. She skids a few meters away with a curse.

He did warn her.

Flicking his hand clean, Nero rolls up his sleeve to reveal the demonic limb. The ghostly afterimage appears above it. He hurls it at her with outstretched claws. Her initial reaction is to dodge. 

Yeah, bad move.  

She goes flying into the brush, smashing into a tree. The wood splinters and the tree slams to the ground. 

“Timber.” He jeers. 

No response. 

“Hey, ya still alive over there?” Nero calls. There’s no way that ended it. “Hello?”

A rustle. Nero turns to the source of the noise. 

What the—?

He summons the spectral form of his Devil Bringer to block the wave of fire bearing down from above. Red Queen cracks against the opposing blade. Something rips into his shoulder.

“Shit!”

Clang! Clang!

The sudden change in brightness blinds him for a moment. 

Reeling back, Nero clutches his left bicep. Blood trickles down his torn coat. He wills the wound to stitch back together.

“Damn Spooky. Not much of a tree hugger, huh?”

Molten talons pulse with crackling energy. The sharp spines at her elbow flare outwards in an angry display. A bulky slate hide covers her right arm in an eerily familiar fashion. 

“Well Red, you’re the one who broke it.”

Not a moment later and they’re back into the fray. The clearing lights up in an array of ghostly blues and fiery reds. Blades lock, only to be pushed away again. Blue Rose rains down hell, only to be countered by sizzling fire bolts. Eventually, Yamato makes her appearance, the ever-present specter shielding him from a wave of hellfire. The demon stares at him in what he assumes is trepidation. However, she seems to conquer it quickly, charging head-first back into the battle.

His Devil Trigger eventually smashes her into another tree. An annoyed yell echos from the pile of splintered wood.

Bonk!

Something smacks against his head. He curses and his Devil Trigger vanishes. He looks down to see what…

A rock.

What the hell?

He looks up just in time to watch his opponent chuck another pebble at his head. The action is so petty, it pisses him off. 

Oh, now she had it coming…!

Bang! Bang!

Nimble steps dash around the muddy grove. 

Vroom!

A parry. 

His opponent draws in close, her leg locked at another strange angle. Nero almost rolls his eyes. Same mistake, again and again.

“Oh c’mon. You’re making this too easy! That back fo—“

Wham!

Nero stumbles back, reeling from the roundhouse kick that impacted his chin.

The woman cocks her hip, her sword resting on her shoulder.

“You mean this foot?” She taunts, shaking the offending appendage.

Nero growls. 

Clang!

Red Queen stains crimson.

Clang!

A scorched thigh soothed by the rain.

Clang!

Panting breathes whisper beneath the raging storm.

Red Queen plunges into the mud, bearing his weight. He looks across the clearing to see his opponent clutching her side. Blue Rose had found her mark moments earlier. 

“You can’t have him.” She wheezes. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

“It’s nothing personal.” Nero sighs. Shit, his leg burns. “Just can’t have demons running around in the city. I’m just doing my job.”

“So am I.”

She charges, a wild and desperate assault, evidently intent on finishing their battle. The longsword tears through the air, aimed at his head.

Showtime.

Nero counters the overhead strike and his opponent’s blade swings upwards. Red Queen goes soaring into the air. A thrust of her blade. 

Nero sidesteps, hopping out of the way. Grabbing the woman’s hood, he uses her momentum to toss her forwards. The swift motion throws his opponent off-kilter. She faceplants into the forest floor with a grunt, her sword skittering away from her reach. Red Queen is caught in his outstretched hand. 

Pushing herself off the ground, she tries to swipe at him with her Devil Bringer. In one fluid motion, he pins her right arm under his boot, Red Queen pressing against the opposite side of her neck. She snarls, trying to free herself. Weak sparks dance from her palm only to be extinguished in the constant deluge. 

Heh, he’d never thought he’d be on this side of that move.

He’d have to use it on Dante someday, just to get back at him for…

Well, the guy had to be around first. Not like that was happening anytime soon.

“Do you have a death wish or something? Face it. You lost. Nothing you can do about it now.”

Her left hand flies to his blade. Nero presses it deeper against her neck in warning. Rivulets of blood seep onto the soaked ground. She freezes.

“I won’t let you hurt him.” She spits. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Nero blinks, taken back by the unexpected declaration. Nothing in her voice betrays any type of doubt. To go to such lengths to protect another demon. What could possibly…?

Lighting rips through the clouds above.

Steely blue eyes stare back at him in defiance. 

Looking at her face, Nero can’t believe he missed the familiar wintery locks crowning her head. The loose ponytail sits messily behind her, stained with blood and dirt. Yet despite the uncanny color palette, it’s her features that give him pause. Anyone could dye their hair. Blue eyes weren’t exactly that rare. But her face… while feminine, her sharp features are ones he is all too familiar with. He recognizes the sturdy jawline, the intense stare. It’s the same ones he sees every time he looks in a mirror. 

Nero glances down at her Devil Bringer, a reflection of his before it changed again only months ago. His eyes flick to his own.

A shiver runs down his spine.

It’s not from the rain. 

Wordlessly, he reaches for his hood. The woman tenses, her Devil Bringer flaring angrily. Nero observes the fear swimming beneath the belligerent expression. Raindrops soak his hair.

They stare at each other, both utterly lost on what to say. Nero cautiously removes Red Queen from the woman’s jugular, stepping back in one purposeful stride. His arms hang in a non-threatening manner, despite still holding his weapon. The woman lifts herself from the ground. Gingerly holding her side, she picks up her sword. 

Wordlessly, she faces him, her blade clenched in her grip.

They stand there. An unknown feeling swirls in his chest.

Family. He had a family. It wasn’t just Dante.

Nero tenses as the woman raises her arm. She pauses, eyes glued to him. Slowly but surely, she completes the motion, her sword returning to its scabbard. Nero sighs in relief. 

Red Queen returns to his back. 

“So… we done trying to kill each other?” 

He tries to sound confident, as surefooted as he did minutes earlier. As he did before his life was flipped upside down for the second time in a year.

“That depends on a few things.” She replies. Nero can hear the slight waver in her voice. She’s just as shaken as he is.

Another crack of lightning. 

Alright, that was getting a little close for comfort.

Looking at the sky, the woman seems to come to the same conclusion. She chews the inside of her cheek, silently staring at him.

“The fountain in Cathedral Square. I’ll be there at eight o’clock.”

Wordlessly, she turns, walking into the woods. The shadows devour her with every step.

Nero lets her go.

Chapter Text

Kyrie lets out a sigh of relief when she hears the door to the garage squeak open. Despite assuring her today’s job should be an easy one, Nero had been gone for much longer than usual. The vicious storm raging outside did nothing to help her nerves. 

Wet socks pad on the floor. 

Kyrie gasps. 

His normally silvery hair is stained with a mess of mud, a cut on his forehead weeping blood. Purple splotches the side of his face, a nasty bruise marking his jaw. Part of his shirt’s torn from what seems to be a blade. Limping past the living room, he seems to favor his left leg. Kyrie can understand why from the still-healing burn on his thigh. 

Nero freezes, wincing at the jarring movement. He gives her an awkward wave. 

“Great weather we’re having huh?” He tries to joke. The smile he tries to send her comes closer to a grimace. 

“Nero, what happened?” Jumping from the couch, she dashes forwards to help him. Her hand hovers over his battered face. 

He laughs, a nervous, bitter huff. That in itself puts Kyrie further on edge.

“I, uh, I guess I found someone who could actually keep up in a fight. Not surprising when that person is also a half-demon swordsman.”

Kyrie’s eyes widen.

“You fought with Dante?”

“I wish. Things would be so much simpler if that were the case.”

Water drips onto the rug. Trying to wipe his eyes, Nero winces again, his hand grazing the cut. Kyrie scowls at the sight of his split lip. 

“Let me help you up to the bathroom.” She insists, offering her arm. Nero takes it with a silent nod of thanks. “Then we’ll talk.”

Careful not to disturb the pack of sleeping children, they silently make their way up the stairs. Nero uses her arm to balance himself, attempting to keep his weight off his bad leg. Kyrie cringes in sympathy. Making it to the small master bath, Kyrie allows him some privacy. 

The rushing water of the shower eventually tapers out. Nero limps into the bedroom, his charred leg now on full display under the hem of his shorts. Kyrie stares worriedly at the angry red skin, the wound only half healed. Nonetheless, it looks healed enough to bandage without any complications.

Small mercies. 

With gentle hands, she gives the wound another once over, applying a bit of antiseptic. Nero remains uncharacteristically silent even as she bandages his leg. She’s winding it around the lower portion of his thigh when…

“I think I might have a sister.”

Nero winces as she tightens the bandage too quickly. Swiftly apologizing, she continues to wrap his leg, albeit much more carefully. 

“Did you just say…?” Kyrie can’t believe what she just heard. She secures the end of the bandage. 

Nero nods, his brow furrowed from the thoughts swirling around his head. Kyrie crouches down beside him, resting a hand on his good leg. She stares up into his storming eyes, searching for answers.

“The job seemed like it was going alright.” He begins his tale. “Followed the demon into the forest near the edge of the city. Had the thing on the run. It should have been easy.”

Nero gently takes her hand, twining his fingers between hers. Calloused fingertips tickle the back of her hand. 

“I didn’t pick up on her because of the storm. Came barreling in, sword swinging, and picked a fight right away. She was protecting the demon I was hunting.”

Her confused look grants her a soft smile.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. It wasn’t like the job wasn’t already weird. The hellhound hadn’t even tried to attack, just kept running. I actually had it cornered before she showed up.”

“She did this to you?” Kyrie asks in horror. Anger pools in her gut, something of a rare occurrence. From the looks of it, Nero had been ganged up on by a mob of demons. 

A soft chuckle plucks her from her hateful thoughts. The mirth sparkling in his eyes soothes her nerves ever so slightly. 

“I‘m sorry if I worried you.” He raises her hand to his lips, resting a gentle kiss on the back of it. The boyish charm is back in full force. “If it means anything, I won.”

“Of course you did. I could never imagine any other outcome.”

A blush warms his cheeks. Nero looks away, scratching the bridge of his nose. 

“It was a good fight. It’d been a while since anyone has given me a run for my money. She had a Devil Bringer as well, except it looked like mine before the scales shed.”

Kyrie remembers well. For a full month, the red carapace of Nero’s arm slowly but surely began to die off, flaking away piece by piece. It had been unbearably uncomfortable for him, despite any efforts to help soothe the constant itching. Eventually, he had decided to remove the dying shed by hand and with her help, peeled away the rough bulky carapace to reveal the sleeker cerulean version of the arm he bore today. 

Her mind wanders to a few days back, to the nightmare in the alleyway. 

“That person Julio called with the crane, I think her arm was like that too.”

“It’d be one hell of a coincidence but I wouldn’t be surprised. Fortuna’s not the biggest of places.” His lips thin into a line. “She asked to meet tomorrow. It seems like she wants to talk.”

“And you’re not sure if you should go…”

He slumps as if the weight of the world pushes down against him. Kyrie hated when he carried such a sense of responsibility. It came with so much unneeded guilt, dampening the luminous soul that she loves so much.

“Yeah… I guess. It’s just…” Nero hesitates before collecting his thoughts. “Our lives have been crazy enough. At least for now, everything seems to be finally calming down. And with the boys just starting to get settled and with all of your work, I don’t want to chance bringing any more madness into our lives. It would be selfish. I don’t want to do that to you.”

His shoulders droop.

“Besides,” He adds bitterly. “Dante already wants nothing to do with me. Why should I expect anything different? I’m just setting myself up for more disappointment.”

Dante. The closest Nero had ever been to answers simply slipped through his fingers, disappearing without a simple farewell. Yes, the man had given him Yamato, but Kyrie knew how many questions that had spawned, how much turmoil it had wrought. “Stay in the family”, he had said, with no explanation to speak of. Kyrie found it almost cruel. She was going to have some choice words for the man if she ever saw him again. 

Still, she couldn’t blame Nero for wanting answers so badly. If she was in the same scenario, she knows she would be desperate for them as well. With that in mind, she sits down beside him. She still holds his hand, using her free one to rest it on the warm scales of his forearm.

“You won’t know unless you try. And when it comes to family, I believe it’s worth the risk.”

Skepticism swims beneath the surface, mixing in with what she recognizes as… 

“It’s not fair though. I shouldn’t get a second chance. Not after…”

She’s thankful she didn’t have to watch her brother die. To this day, she was still tormented by her time stuck in the Savior’s core, helpless to do anything to save him. Nero had only talked about his death once and from his haunted expression, Kyrie doesn’t know if she would have survived the experience. Having to bury an empty casket had nearly killed her. 

“It wasn’t your fault Nero. I don’t care how many times I have to tell you. I don’t blame you. I know Credo wouldn’t either.” 

“Still… I was…”

No matter how much time went by, the ache in her chest never seemed to cease. Now not only did she have to carry such grief, but she also had to watch unnecessary guilt gnaw Nero from the inside out. Just another thing to add to the growing list of how life was not fair.

There were times she wondered if faith meant anything. 

“You’re tired and it has been a long day. How about you get some rest and I’ll wake you before you need to meet? That way, you can make your decision with a clear head. Just know that whatever you choose, I will support you. It’s your choice. Remember that.”

“But…”

“Sleep Nero. I’ll go and see if I can find the crane. Somehow Julio grabbed it when we fled. It’ll be a good way to know for sure if it’s actually her.”

Standing, she gently runs a hand through his hair, brushing the damp locks out of his face. She plants a soft kiss on his forehead. His skin is still warm from the shower. 

“Everything’s going to be okay. I know it will.”

Rain splatters on the moss-laden roof, matching the beat of the gushing shower. The various pots and pans behind him tap to the rhythm with every leaking drop. Fenrir sits near the bathroom door, licking his still healing wound. He pauses, watching the Shadow pad across the room. She sits beside him and sends him a questioning stare.

“Your cub. Why did you let her face such a dangerous foe?”

Blunt as ever. The Garmr had come to expect this. 

“She has proven herself as my equal. I have taught her all I know and raised her the best I could. It is not my place to interfere in such matters. Especially when that foe is her kin.”

He’s rewarded with a curious stare.

“I thought he had a familiar scent.”  

“Indeed. And if I were to attack him, I would be sullying my promise. I am one of my word, no matter the circumstances.”

The Shadow chuffs in disbelief.

“Such sentiments will get you killed. You are soft Fenrir. You are setting your cub up for failure.”

“You may believe that, but honor was what allowed her forebear to succeed. His morals allowed him to thrive. Those same virtues spared both you and your pups.”

“So I was correct. She is of the traitor’s blood.”

Fenrir stops his grooming, readying himself for the answer to his next question.

“Does that change your opinion of her?”

To his surprise, the Shadow releases an amused huff. 

“Not to any of your concerns. She has proven herself as a worthy opponent. I will not attempt to dethrone her.” 

Silently, the Shadow stands, arching her back into a stretch. Her coat ripples, still damp from the rain.

“I have been away for too long. Send my regards to the half-breed. We will talk at a later date.”

Without another word, Nyx disappears under the backdoor. 

Fenrir shakes his head. Despite the nonchalant nature of the demon, he knows the Shadow worries about his charge. When Skylar had come stumbling back to the house, Nyx had been the first to swear vengeance against the intruder. It had taken the pup some time to talk her down, assuring her that it was something that she had to deal with.

Alone. 

He sits in silence, listening to the rushing water and letting his mind wander. At times he couldn’t believe how much the pup had grown, so scared and lost when she first stumbled upon him. But even then, he had seen that spark in her eye, that defiance against everything that sought to harm her. She wanted to live just as he had. Fenrir hoped that determination would never falter.  

“Hey, Fen… could I get a little help in here?”

Nosing open the door, he’s met with the overwhelming scent of fresh blood. Skylar sits on the cool tile, her back against the bathroom vanity, her side bruised and torn from the bullet that bit in her side. The flesh has patched itself around the corners of the wound, leaving the center of it untouched. Shrapnel plinks into the bowl next to her. Tweezers carefully dig into the wound, fishing out more of the metallic shards. 

“Hey, where’d Nyx go?” Skylar grunts, not looking up from her work. “Thought she would have stayed around to chew me out some more.”

”She needed to tend to her pups.”

The wound weeps, a few drops of blood dripping onto the floor. Skylar wipes it clean, continuing to inspect the crater in her side. 

“Huh, figures. Well, probably for the better. Still not sure how much we can trust her anyways.”

With a muttered curse, the tweezers slip while Skylar tries to dig out a particularly stubborn shard. She hisses through her teeth, takes a deep breath, and bites at her bottom lip. Fenrir steps forwards, a silent offer to help. Pausing, Skylar nods to a light next to her. 

“Do you mind holding that while I work? Best if I have my hands free.”

He obliges, holding the light between his jaws. The muscles around her abdomen tense, the macabre scavenger hunt causing her evident discomfort. Setting her jaw, she yanks free a large chunk. 

Plink!

“Two rounds, one shot?” She grumbles. “What kind of shit was that guy packing? Crazy shit. That’s what.”

Plink!

The last of the shrapnel clatters into the bowl, the bloodied pair of tweezers quickly joining it. Leaning back against the cabinet with a groan, Skylar sends Fenrir a tired smile. Already, the wound begins to mend itself together, albeit at a snail’s pace. He sits next to her, the light still clamped between his jaws. Raising her arm, she takes it from him, switches it off, and places it on the floor. His mouth free, Fenrir whines.

“I’m good buddy, I’m alright. This is not my first time getting shot, remember? Just need a bit of rest and I should be good as new.”

She lifts herself off the floor with a grunt, leaning against the vanity. Gingerly prodding her side, she winces. The action does nothing to help both the pain and the mess dripping onto the bathroom tile.

“To stitch or not to stitch….” She pokes the wound again, much to Fenrir’s dismay. Why aggravate something if it already hurt? The pup always seemed to find new ways to confuse him. “You know what, screw it, if it scars, it scars.”

Ripping open a roll of gauze, she begins the arduous task of bandaging her abdomen. Fenrir sits with her for the majority of the process but eventually wanders off into the kitchen. If he knew the pup, which he most certainly did, she would forget to eat, instead heading right to sleep. For a demon, that would not normally be an issue. However, Fenrir had to remind himself that the pup was still mostly human. 

Nudging open the cabinet, Fenrir fishes out one of the strange cereal bars she seemed to like as well as a package of dried meat. The second choice may or may not be a bit selfish. 

The bed springs creak in the bedroom, a short hiss of pain following soon after. Rain continues to pelt the stone rooftop, racing through the gutters. Fenrir pushes the cabinet door closed only to silently pad from the kitchen through the living room. Poking his head through the doorway, he sees Skylar curled up on her side, her arm draped protectively over the wound. If it wasn’t for her accelerated heartbeat, he would have thought she was asleep.  

Her stomach growls, but, she does not move. 

Fenrir huffs. 

Nudging her foot, a tired eye pries open, staring at him. Wordlessly, Skylar scoots over to give him room to sit, propping her back against the wall. He doesn’t miss her wince as she sits up. 

”Thanks Fen….” She tears open the packaging, taking a greedy bite.  Munching on the granola bar, Skylar pops open the bag of jerky, offering him a piece. Carefully he takes it from her grasp, only to be snapped up in one swift motion. Skylar idly runs her fingers through his fur, scratching behind his ears from his spot beside her.  

“Do you think this is some kind of trick?” She suddenly asks after swallowing a bite. It seems she’s too tired to converse in Infernal. “I mean, what are the chances of someone out there that just… I mean, he even had a weird right arm.”

Fenrir doesn’t answer. What was he supposed to tell her? He was almost scared to believe that another one of Sparda’s blood lived on. He remembers his master, brave and powerful like none before him. But why he suddenly vanished, he can’t remember. His time bound had taken so much from him, so much that he wishes he could just…

“Why didn’t you fight back?” The pup asks, breaking him from his thoughts. “You could have…”

He can smell the slight prickle of fear. There were at times he wished the pup didn’t have to feel such things. 

“Never have I met another with your unique scent. At least, not until today. I… hesitated.”

“He could have killed you. Would have killed you.”

“And if that is your kin? You have been searching for your pack for so long. I will not be the one to deny you of that.”

His question gives her pause. Staring at the window, she mulls over his words. The downpour outside fills the silence.  

“I’m not trading you for that.” She finally says, looking towards him. Her jaw sets, steely resolve radiating off of her. “You’re my family Fen. You’ve been there for me longer than anyone else. I’ve chosen my family, and I’ve chosen you. No matter if he’s blood or not, keeping us safe is all that matters.”

“I appreciate your sentiments. I just do not want my fate to befall you.”

Her shoulders slump, her head dipping in resignation. 

“I know… I just… I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.” The words leave hoarse and soft. For a moment, all he sees is the frail pup that freed him all those years ago. “I don’t care if I get hurt in the process, I won’t let it happen again. That's a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

He doesn’t grace her with a response, as something within him twists uneasily. For why he does not know. The answer seems so close, yet it continues to slip from his reach. More stolen memories to dwell on at a later date.

Instead, he gently buts his head against hers. 

“I recommend you rest. I expect tomorrow to be a busy day.” He nuzzles her cheek. “You are not one for early mornings.”

Skylar rolls her eyes at the jab, her snarky attitude quickly returning. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Despite her annoyed tone, buries herself under the covers. She turns towards him, her eyelids already at half-mast. 

“Thanks, Fen. For everything…”

Fenrir carefully tucks himself next to her, resting his chin on her shoulder. He gives a soft rumble in response, lulling her to sleep.

And thank you little pup, for giving me hope.

Chapter Text

The storm had raged through the majority of the night, leaving cloud-ridden skies and cold winds the following day. It was another reason why Nero was grateful for Kyrie’s impromptu gift, curling the navy blue collar of his new coat closer to his neck. His boots echo on the empty cobblestone streets, his gait stiff and slightly offbeat. 

The tender freshly healed skin of his thigh tugs uncomfortably. 

He really doesn’t know what to expect in their meeting. Part of him still regrets leaving Red Queen behind, uncertain if the woman was still keen on violence. Another reason to bring Blue Rose along. At least he always carried Yamato, the Devil Arm a constant companion. Yet somehow, a part of him feels that there will be no need for them, knows that there will be no need. 

At least he hopes so.

Something rattles along with a flutter of wings. Hushed coos catch his ear, calm in the still of the morning. A laugh whispers over the rushing stream of the fountain.

“Simmer down guys. Just be patient.”

Nero rounds the corner, now subjected to the full dangers of the open courtyard. Despite years of combat experience screaming at his vulnerable position, his instincts are surprisingly calm. He boldly strides forward, trying to disguise his sore leg. An inquisitive eye immediately sees through his façade. Likewise, Nero watches as the woman shifts her position, trying her best to take the weight off her side. The clean air allows him to catch a hint of blood fluttering through the air. A bandage is taped to the side of her neck, another is wrapped tightly around her right arm.

He knows the latter is not from an injury.

There’s no reaction when he sits down next to her, leaning back heavily against his arms. The pigeons scuttle about, surprisingly undeterred by his sudden intrusion. One is bold to jump up on his lap. Luckily, it perches on his good leg and looks up at him expectantly. 

Another rattle. An aluminum canister is offered to him. 

“He’s looking for some breakfast.” The woman says with a shrug. Another pigeon sits on her shoulder, playing with a loose strand of her hair. Two sit on her lap peacefully.  “Probably won’t leave you alone until you give him something.”

The bird on his lap coos in agreement. Tiny clawed feet eagerly stomp on his thigh. The action garners a smirk from the woman. 

Nero holds out his hand, a mixture of birdseed, beans, and rice tumbling onto his scaly palm. 

“How’s the leg?” She tosses another handful of grain.

“A bit crispy, but better." He answers and holds out his hand to the ruffled bird. It immediately starts to chow down. "Your side?” 

“Healing. Gunshot wounds are always a bit tricky.”

Nero simply nods, unable to relate. With Fortuna being so opposed to guns, he has never been in danger of being shot. He had been lucky when he had fought Dante. The man’s deadly aim was probably not a pleasant experience. 

Another pigeon jumps up onto his lap. He offers the remaining food as he contemplates what to say next. Instead, he digs through his coat pocket, pulling out the stained origami crane.

“This look familiar?”

She freezes mid-throw, seed slowly trickling to the ground. The air spikes a degree, her eyes glinting dangerously.

“Where did you get that?” Comes a hiss. Muscles tense under her bulky leather jacket. It does nothing to deter him.

“An alleyway where my kid was attacked by demons. But I’m guessing you know something about that.”

He tries not to think too much about the “my” in that statement. It had slipped out before he could think about it, but the thought of Julio being in danger fuels his determination and he returns her burning glare with a silent challenge. 

“Am I right, Miss Skylar ?”

Their impromptu staring contest continues. However, his words seem to garner some good faith, Skylar’s lip quirking upwards ever so slightly, understanding dawning on her features. 

“You must be Nero.” Skylar shakes her head in amusement. “Things are starting to make a lot more sense. By the way, I would keep a closer eye on Julio if I were you. Trouble always seems to find him.”

The cryptic words put him on edge. Her attention flicks back to him and she cautiously watches him out of the corner of her eye. Nero openly scowls at her. 

“Is that a threat?” He growls out.

The average person would shy away from such a tone; Nero has seen it many times before. Yet, Skylar sits there, not cowering as many before her. Instead….

“A threat…?” Her eyes widen as she realizes her misstep, a muttered curse fluttering into the air. “Oh, no, no, that came out wrong! Damn, uh…” 

And just like that, the hostile atmosphere vanishes, leaving behind something much more awkward. The sudden shift leaves him disoriented. 

“Julio’s being bullied by a group of boys.” Skylar rambles onwards before he can get a word in. “I was only able to get one of their names before scaring them off. Todd… I think?”

Outwardly, he keeps his features schooled, not knowing how the woman would react to the sudden snap of anger jolting through him. Something within him snarls menacingly; that demonic part of him rattles at the bars of its cage, hissing, and spitting. He doesn’t notice Skylar observing him until she speaks up again.

“By that reaction, I’m guessing you didn’t know.”

Shit. Could she pick up on that? So much for keeping his cards close to his chest.  

“Damn right I didn’t know!” His words are silted, rage simmering just below the surface. How could he miss something like that? He was far from blind, he knew what it felt like to be bullied; he knew the signs. The pigeon on his lap shuffles nervously, most likely sensing the reemerging hostility. 

The rattling can breaks him from his murderous thoughts. Skylar carefully scratches one of the pigeons under its chin, before tossing more feed out to the growing swarm. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think they’re going to be bothering him any time soon. Fen spooked them pretty good.” A pleased smile curls on her lips laced with grim satisfaction. 

“Fen?”

“Fenrir. My friend. The one you shot last night.”

He winces. Skylar pointedly ignores him, evidently still pissed off about the events of the night prior. The pigeon that first hopped up on his lap seems to have grown bored, deciding that his shoulder is much more interesting. It settles, cooing contently. 

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? A job’s a job. How was I supposed to know that…”

The job. 

Nero made it a point to get his jobs directly from his clients, meeting them and working out the details in person. Kyrie had insisted it was a good way to build a good reputation. While Nero didn’t really care about the opinions of strangers, especially any from the assholes of this city, he knew Kyrie had a point. A good report meant good business. That was especially important now that he had responsibilities and all the shit that came with them. 

So, when an ex-colleague came to him with a well-paying job, of course he’s going to say yes. He’d always be down with stealing the Order’s business, especially when it came with the possibility of showing them up. And with Kyrie so adamant about not taking any monetary payments from Fortuna’s population, rejected Order contracts were his main source of revenue. 

At least, for the time being. 

The hit on the hellhound had come with an appetizing payout, especially with how rare and extremely dangerous they were. It was no surprise none of those Order dipshits wanted to go near it. Which made it even stranger that a bunch of kids were able to outrun…

“That little shit Todd…. That’s where the job came from.”

Skylar quirks her brow. He gives her a rundown of what he thinks happened.

“Makes sense.” She nods. Turning to face him, she looks him dead in the eye. Her intense stare warns him to choose his next words carefully.

”So… what will you be telling your client then?”

Nero pauses, mulling over her question. He knows that whatever he answers will decide the ending of this strange meeting. Either, he leaves ready to hunt a hellhound, knowing that a pissed-off half-demon was going to be instantly on his shit, but with the opportunity for a really good payout and a short moment of financial stability. Or…. 

He makes the obvious choice. 

“Kids have some wild imaginations.” He shrugs. The pigeon still on his thigh pecks at his Devil Bringer inquisitively. “A stray dog is much more likely than a hellhound, especially this far into the city.”

He catches a quiet sigh of relief. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one hoping to avoid a fight.

“That sounds about right.” She agrees, nodding her head. Her lips quirk into a soft smile. 

The pigeons mull around them, seemingly unbothered by the cold of the morning. Nero taps his foot, disliking the lack of action. It was already difficult for him to sit still for long. Skylar seems to be experiencing the same internal struggle on what to say next.

“Whelp… this is awkward….” Skylar comments.

Nero scoffs.

“That’s one way to put it.” 

He continues to tap his foot. His fingers drum on the fountain’s rim. Skylar plays with the bandage around her arm, twisting a loose part of the fabric.

“So… uh… have you lived in Fortuna your whole life? Or um….”

Small talk. A half-demon was trying to create small talk.

“Fuck! This is awkward.”

His words grant him a glare.

“Hey! We have to start somewhere, okay? I just….” She shakes her head in resignation. “Damn it… I just… I don’t know.”

Nero’s heart sinks. Her shoulders slumped, eyes staring at the pavement, it spells the very thing he’s been fearing. The words form on his tongue. The very question he’s been asking himself ever since he could remember.

“Do you know who your parents are?”

Skylar’s jaw clenches. It’s an answer all in itself. His fingers curl into fists. 

“Fuck….” He hisses through grit teeth. 

Was this supposed to be a cruel joke? Every time he felt like he was getting closer to the truth, something always stopped him. 

“Um, I was found in an alleyway when I was a baby.” Skylar blurts out, interrupting his thoughts. “No note, nothing. Just, there, dropped in a basket. The local orphanage took me in soon after.”

“Yeah.” He scoffs. “That sounds familiar. Was dropped right on the orphanage steps. The matron apparently named me after the black blanket I was found in. Not really sure what she was thinking. Ya know, because….“

He points to his very evident white hair. Skylar shrugs.

“If she named you after your hair, I’d be talking with a Bianco.”

He grimaces.

“Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Hey, it could have been worse. They named me Skylar because of the blue eye, white hair combo. A little on the nose, but I don’t mind it.”

“‘Could have been worse’.” He repeats bitterly. “Isn’t that the story of my life?”

Skylar shares his sentiments with a dark chuckle.

“You’re not wrong. So… Fortuna. Always been here or…?”

“Yeah, born and raised. At least, I think I was born here. Records are a bit spotty. But what are you doing in Fortuna? Never seen you around and you’re definitely aren’t local. We would’ve crossed paths a long time ago.”

“Nah. I moved here a few months ago looking for work. To be honest, I’m still getting my bearings. This is the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place.”

“Runaway?”

Her shoulders stiffen ever so slightly, and Nero catches the sudden hitch in her breath. Skylar doesn’t answer for a moment, her attention glued to the pigeon on her leg. 

“Something like that…” She answers cryptically. Her carefully selected words drip with melancholy. 

Nero doesn’t pry, already knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. Instead, he tries to sate his curiosity with a different question.

“But why Fortuna? ‘Specially with everything that happened last year.”

Skylar eagerly latches onto the change in topic.

“How many times have demons compared you to Mister Dark Knight there?” She asks, pointing a thumb to one of the many statues of Sparda in the city. “I can’t count the number of times a demon has cursed me for apparently carrying the blood of that ‘Sparda filth’, as they call it.“ 

“And what better to figure out why than the place he’s worshipped?”

“Bingo.”

He doesn’t completely buy her story and she quickly picks up on his doubt. Skylar heaves a weary sigh, dipping her head. Her earlier bravado has vanished, leaving her looking drained. Nero notes how tired she looks, how meek in comparison. While they stood almost eye to eye, her jacket swims on her, hiding an obviously bony frame, one only consisting of the muscle she needed to fight. Her boots are worn and ragged, the front of one of the soles having been glued back into place. Its edge already seems to be coming loose again.

“Look.” She mutters. “I’m not planning anything. I just want a quiet place to live without demons sniffing me out every ten seconds. Fortuna is a hotspot for magic, making it my best bet for that. Is that too much to ask?”

There’s a pleading edge to her request, beseeching and a tad desperate in a way he immediately despises. Maybe it hits a bit close to the heart. Until recently he never had a place he truly felt at home. She looks at him as if he was in control of her entire future. 

And as much as he hates to admit it, he probably is. 

If he’s right, he’s the only threat to her in Fortuna. While they had both suffered injuries from their fight, he had been the one to come out on top. He had beaten her, which in turn meant he could probably do it again. She was injured. 

Weak, something in the back of his mind hisses.

In the quiet of the morning, with no weapons to defend herself, he could end her, and no one would be the wiser. 

They both knew that. 

And yet, she had come, despite the risks. 

“No. No, I guess it’s not.” He decides. Nero doesn’t miss the way she relaxes, her posture having been drawn taut, ready to spring into action depending on his answer. She had been ready to run, something Nero was now certain that she was familiar with. 

But why?

He had walked into this searching for answers and yet the enigma next to him guaranteed that he would be leaving with only more questions. 

Surprisingly, he’s alright with that.   

With any hostilities long gone, they chat, Skylar immediately curious about Blue Rose and her double barrel build. Admittedly, Nero is thrown off guard, not accustomed to receiving questions about his beloved revolver. Yet, he finds no trace of mocking, no sneering comment of how guns were a brute’s weapon. All he sees is unfaltering curiosity. It’s refreshing in a way he has rarely experienced and as he delves into Blue’s design and mechanics, he receives Skylar’s undivided attention along with a litany of questions about firearms in general. 

Eventually, he flips the discussion, plucking the paper crane from his pocket. To his surprise, it flutters to life, taking to the air to do a lazy circuit around the fountain. It lands atop his head much to his annoyance, garnering a snicker from Skylar. Holding out her hand, the crane glides down to rest upon her outstretched palm. Nero quickly gets the rundown on the basics of spell work and enchanting, something that he had found boring during his time in the Order. However, the application of the different runes Skylar describes has him asking questions he never thought he would. 

It’s only when he starts feeling the familiar stares of passersby that he realizes how much time has passed. The sun now higher in the sky makes him assume it’s around late morning. 

Skylar suddenly tilts her head, raising it a bit higher. Her nose twitches, nostrils flaring ever so slightly. Only when her head turns towards a nearby alley, does he notice their unexpected eavesdropper.  

“Hey, nosey!” She calls over her shoulder. “Stop lurking and get over here.”

From the shadows stalks the hellhound, trotting along as if nothing had happened the day prior. To his surprise, it looks like a normal dog, barring its massive size and wolfish features. Nero tries to locate the demon’s presence, yet it unexpectedly evades him.

“Fen, didn’t I tell you to stay at home?” Skylar chides, scratching the top of the demon’s head. It barks in return causing her to shake her head. Nero continues to stare at the demon, trying to pick out any source of demonic power.

Nothing.

“Can’t sense him either, huh?” She asks, looking amused at his evident confusion. “Don’t worry, I’ve been trying to for years. I still can’t pinpoint him for some reason.”

“What happened to all of the…” Nero gestures loosely. “…ya know, fire and stuff?”

The demonic hound turns to him, tilting his head to meet his gaze. Nero’s eyes widen as the wolf flickers with hellfire, smoke briefly trailing out of its maw. Moments later, the fiery display disappears. 

“Woah….”

He hates how smug she looks.

“Yeah, master of camouflage. You really don’t want to see him when he’s mad.”

“I didn’t think normal demons could do that.”

“Oh, Fen here is anything but normal. Ain’t that right bud?”

It’s at this moment that Nero realizes the demon sitting in front of him was far more intelligent than he first thought. This wasn’t an animal or the demonic equivalent of an animal. That glitter of sentience in the demon’s eyes told him that he understood every word being said, of the gravity of the situation that had transpired. That he had shot him, despite the demon not instigating violence.

Nero clicks his tongue.

Well… this is awkward. Again.…

“Hey, I’m uh, sorry for shooting you. Hope there’s no hard feelings. I was just doing my job.”

The demon blinks at him.

“So… are we good?”

Wings flutter away in a panicked frenzy as the hound jumps up onto his chest. Nero sputters as his face is drenched in slobber, cringing at the slimy tongue running against his cheek. Fenrir rumbles happily, giving Nero an expectant look.

Unable to resist the temptation of the demon’s large fluffy ears, Nero ruffles his fingers through Fenrir’s fur. 

“Alright, you big mutt. I’ll let you have this round, but only because I’m in a good mood.”

The demon barks happily, giving his face another hearty lick much to Nero’s despair. He ruffles the demon’s fur once more for good measure—holy shit it’s so soft—before shifting the demon off of him. Standing up to escape another slobbery kiss, Nero stretches reaching his arms above his head and popping his spine. 

“I don’t know about you but I’m starving. C’mon, I know a place where we can talk. It has some great coffee and I even think they’re dog friendly for Fido.”

Skylar stares up at him as if he’d grown a second head. 

“Coffee? You want to get… coffee?”

He shrugs, continuing to brush himself off. Ugh, his face still feels gross from demon drool. 

“Yeah. What? Scared it’ll stunt your growth?”

“Are you calling me short?” Skylar balks. The pigeons jump from her lap as she scatters the remains of the canister onto the ground. She quickly pockets it in her backpack before joining him at his side. It’s true he’s only about a few centimeters taller than her, but her initial reaction was too good to back out now. 

“You said it shrimp, not me.”

Chapter Text

“Not again! Hey! Don’t eat that! Spit it out!”

Skylar chases around the tiny Shadow, trying to snag him before he swallowed the mouthful of leaves. He ducks under her first attempt, zig-zagging across the clearing. A few more attempts allow her to finally nab the blue-eyed cub and force him to spit out the foliage.

“No! Aether! You’re going to get sick again!” Luckily, she’s able to snatch the slimy wad of half-chewed plant matter from his mouth. 

Ick!

Skylar makes sure to toss it far away before setting the Shadow cub down. Something in her pocket suddenly buzzes, and she looks to see it’s her phone. 

Shit! She forgot!

“Uh hey Nero, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, only that I’m in the usual spot and you’re no where to be seen. Are we still sparring today or what?”

She winces, checking the time. Damn, he’s been sitting there for, what, twenty-five, maybe thirty minutes now? No wonder he’s pissed. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I got stuck with babysitting duty. Can we do it another day? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“Babysitting? You have kids?”

“Hell no! They’re someone else’s. I would have had help if—“

Skylar curses to herself.

“Dolos, no! Stop hitting your brother! You know how he gets when—! Hemera! Get down from there! Oh, don’t talk back to me little lady! I can see that you’re encouraging him!”

Her scolding session is interrupted by Nero’s hearty laughter. Admittedly, she had forgotten for a moment that he was still on the line. 

“That sounds familiar.” He comments almost sympathetically. Skylar facepalms as she watches Hemera tackle Dolos from above. The two crash into a tree, eliciting an angry yowl. 

“Sorry. I was hoping to discuss some stuff with you, but it seems like that’s going to have to wait.”

To her surprise, he chuckles again.

“Need any help? I’ve got a free day.”

With these three, she needed all the help she could get. 

“How do you feel about cats?”

Aether gnaws on her arm, or “Devil Bringer” as Nero calls it, his sharp little claws caught in the rough ridges. She’d been trying to pry him off of her for the last fifteen minutes, but the stubborn Shadow stays latched onto her like a tick. When had she signed up to be a chew toy? Dolos pounces on her foot, her boot taking the brunt of his attack. She sighs, knowing Hemera is not far behind. 

“This was not what I was expecting.”

Tilting her head, she finds Nero standing a few meters away. She reaches out her senses, surprised the wards had not alerted her of his presence. Maybe it was because they were related? She would have to look into it later. 

“I’ve stopped being surprised at this point.” With her free hand, she snatches Hemera before the cub can pounce. Setting her down, Dolos and her run off together. “If life can get weirder, it usually does.”

Nero observes Aether, still chewing on her arm.

“I didn’t know demons could be….”

“This tiny. Yeah, it caught me off guard too. But they have to come from somewhere, right?”

She pats the ground next to her, signaling him to sit. Nero plops down on the grass, curiously watching the Shadow cub. Aether pops his head up, staring at him with his sapphire eyes. He hops up onto Skylar’s leg to get a better look at the new visitor. Nero holds his hand out to let him take an investigative sniff. 

“I’ve heard of Shadows before, but I thought they weren’t a fan of humans.”

Aether jumps off her lap. His paw reaches up to playfully bat at Nero’s hand. 

“They usually aren’t, but these guys are still pretty young. It also helps that their mother respects me in some strange demonic way. As long as I’m not a danger to her and her cubs, she’s not a danger to me.”

“Oh, she definitely respects you,” Nero assures. “She wouldn’t have left her kids with you if she didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“You know the bullshit thing that you always hear about how you wouldn’t understand until you have kids?”

Skylar nods. She watches Hemera stare at Nero from behind a bush. The crimson-eyed cub crouches down, quietly stalking toward him.

“Whelp, they’re not entirely wrong. Fostering the boys has been a real eye-opener. I couldn’t imagine leaving them with someone I didn’t know or at least somewhat trusted. It’s much different than leaving them at school or daycare.”

“Huh. Never thought of it that way.”

Hemera slowly but surely creeps closer. Nero lightly roughhouses with Aether, wrestling with the cub with his hand. 

“How far away is she?” He asks, his focus not changing from the blue-eyed cub. 

“About a meter off.” She replies, acting as if she doesn’t see the novice hunter. “You’ll know when she’s about to pounce.”

Sure enough, as the Hemera steps closers, Skylar can hear the slight shift of the dirt beneath her paws. Nero tries to hide his growing smirk. 

Hemera readjusts her posture, her spine swiveling as she calculates her trajectory. 

She freezes…

…and jumps.

Hiss!

The little Shadow dangles in the air by the scruff of her neck, staring daggers at Nero. She tries to swat at him to no avail. Nero chuckles.

“Gonna have to do better than that.”

Setting her down, Hemera releases an annoyed huff. She stalks over to Skylar, climbing into her lap to sulk. Amused, Skylar obliges the cub, scratching behind her ears. A soft purr fills the air. 

Aether, having found Nero’s Devil Bringer, begins chewing on it much to the man’s chagrin.

“Alright, so this is Aether. That’s…”

A sandpaper tongue laps her fingers. 

“…Hemera, the middle child and the oldest is…”

Skylar’s head surveys the area looking for the signature glint of gold eyes. Panic flutters in her chest.

“ Shit ! Where’s Dolos?”

Nero freezes, his eyebrows shooting upwards. 

“You lost one?!” He asks in disbelief. 

“They’re called Shadows for a reason! Damn it!” Skylar scoops Hemera into her arms. Jumping to her feet, her eyes dart around the surrounding area, searching for any sign of the missing cub. 

“Oh no… Nyx is going to kill me! Literally! I’m so done!” 

Nero stands, Aether curled against his chest. The cub seems pleased with the arrangement, happily teething on the rough hide of his wrist.

“He couldn’t have gone far.” He tries to assure her. “C’mon, we should be able to pick up his trail.” 

She gives him a shaky nod. 

Right, a trail. She’s tracked many demons in her lifetime. How hard could it be?  

Very. 

They lose his trail about ten minutes in, forcing them to split up to cover more ground. Thirty minutes of searching provided nothing but worry.

“This is not how I expected my day to be going.” Nero comments. Setting Aether down, he keeps a close eye on the cub. They didn’t need to be searching for two missing Shadows. 

“You think?!” Pacing with Hemera still in her arms, she tries to not imagine the trouble Dolos may be in. Despite their rough beginnings, she had become fond of the little demons. Watching them grow gave her a feeling of hope that she didn’t know she needed. They were capable of affection, of feeling and empathy. 

And if they were capable of that, maybe she didn’t have so much to fear. 

Well… expect their pissed of mother of course. 

Her stressed-induced pacing is interrupted by Nero grabbing her shoulder and stopping her in her tracks. She shoots him a freezing glare and is about to shove him off when….

“Listen!” He hisses.

And then she hears it and…

Oh no… .

“This way!” Nero commands, scooping up Aether and booking it into the dense foliage. Skylar follows close behind, for now trusting Nero’s ears much more than her own. The putrid smell of demons suddenly wafts in the air causing them to pick up their already breakneck pace. A terrified little growl catches her ear.

“Mom….”

Skylar bolts past Nero, ignoring his angry shout.

A pack of demons circles a looming oak, Dolos trapped up in its inner canopy. Jagged claw marks rake the splintered bark of the trunk. The little cub hises at them, shying away as one gouges the trunk.  

Usually, something like this would be a cakewalk. A few slashes of Ragnarök and one or two jets of fire and it would be a job well done. But with Hemera in her arms, Ragnarök at home, and Dolos up in the tree….

Skylar uses a free hand to fluff the hood of her jacket.

“You stay in there and hold on tight. Understand?” She orders the little cub. “No trying to pick a fight. No wandering off.”

The excited chirp is all the confirmation she gets as the Shadow cub bounds up onto her shoulder and nestles into the confines of her hood. Her oversized paws curl around her neck. 

“And no claws! Got it?”

There’s no time for an answer as she delves into combat, beelining for the Assault attempting to scale the tree. Skylar slams into it, shoulder-checking the giant reptile, toppling it off balance. Standing at the base of the tree, she faces off with the hoard.

“Heard about a cat stuck in a tree. You wouldn’t happen to be the firemen, would you?”

The demons surge forward, dashing around in attempts to evade her and scale the trunk. Summoning her magic, she conjures a perimeter of flames safely away from the base of the tree. Skylar stands her ground, planning to face them head-on and forcing them away if they get too close. For a while, her plan works, Hemera cheering her on from her shoulder. 

Until… she misses one. 

Shit, shit, shit—!

A gunshot cracks through the air, splattering the demon’s brains on the bark. It falls to the ground, dead.

“Hey! You can’t just go running off like that!” Nero scolds as he makes his way over. Without looking, he fires Blue Rose again. Another demon attempting to scale the tree screeches, stumbling back. “Pretty sure teamwork takes at least two people. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Here, catch.”

Twirling Red Queen in his hand, he tosses the sword to her. Skylar snatches her out of the air, adjusting her stance to accommodate the change in weight. The Durandal is a bit heavier than Ragnarök, the machinery near her hilt giving the blade a strange balance. 

“Didn’t expect you would be one to share.” She says, trying to hide her surprise by swinging the blade at an unsuspecting Scarecrow. From the little she knew about him, Nero didn’t seem to be one to willingly share, especially when it came to his precious Red Queen. 

“Don’t really feel like dealing with a pissed-off Shadow.” He shrugs, snatching a demon with his Devil Bringer and hurling it away. “I have a feeling she wouldn’t be very picky on who to blame if her kid got hurt. Besides, not every day I’m saving a demon.”

“But I swear,” Nero adds. Skylar can’t help but shiver at the ice-cold glare that lances through her. “If you put even a scratch on her, I’m gonna be pissed.”

The threat looming over her head, she makes sure to be a bit more cautious with her swings. Despite only knowing each other for about a month, she knew Nero felt the same way about Red Queen as she did about Ragnarök. Such a blade was an extension of themselves, a constant companion in the heat of battle. 

To let another wield her was like a mother handing over their child. 

Speaking of children….

“Hey, where’s Ae—” 

On cue, Aether’s chin plops onto Nero’s shoulder, interrupting her question. The cub sits happily in the depths of Nero’s hood. 

Guess, she wasn’t the only one with that idea. 

Flames lick her right hand. Unfortunately, she had no clue how to work Red Queen’s motor. She would make do with what she had.

“Where’s the fire?” She taunts the hoard with a grin. Nero wears the same predatory smile as he stalks forwards. 

“Oh wait, it’s only me.”

What was…?

Skylar senses the surge in demonic power almost immediately. It takes her a moment to realize it's coming from Nero, who had paused in the chaos of the battle. His right arm flares with a blinding cerulean light.

What the hell was he…?

Nero’s eyes snap open, their icy blue bleeding into a sinister glowing red. A ghostly specter unfurls behind him as he stands off against the remaining demons. Skylar stops for a moment to watch. 

“Devil Trigger”, she remembers him calling it. A physical manifestation of his demonic heritage, a boost in power that could change the tide of battle. 

Another reminder that they weren’t completely human.

The katana cleaves through the demons at lightning speed, singing in his hand the way only Devil Arms did. Perched on Skylar’s shoulder, Hemera watches him wide-eyed, excitement radiating off of her in waves.

Skylar curses under her breath.

She was dead. Nyx was going to give her a slow and painful death because there was no way this was going to stay quiet. 

A sickening squelch drags her from her gloomy thoughts, the body of a Hell Caina dropping onto the blood-stained dirt. The last demon culled, Nero turns to her with a grin. 

“Crisis averted.”

“Hopefully.” Skylar huffs. After returning his beloved blade, she turns her head to the treetops. “Dolos, it’s safe to come down now.”

The cub gives her a hesitant look. 

“It’s okay little one,” She gently assures. “I’ve got you.”

It seems her soothing tone is enough to convince Dolos to climb down. The moment his paws hit the ground he bolts over, throwing himself into her arms. She does her best to calm the panicked mewls, holding him close to her chest and lightly nuzzling his head. Relief floods her when she finds no physical injuries. Eventually, the soft cries hush into quiet purring. 

“C’mon, let’s get you back mister.” Hefting him higher in her arms, she is surprised by Dolos’ sudden protests. Hemera gives her brother a questioning look as he squirms. 

“Hey, Dolos, what are you—?”

She sets him down, lest he jumps out of her grasp. They all watch as the tiny Shadow noses at something buried beneath the base of the tree. Claiming his prize, he saunters back, plopping it before her in silent offering. Skylar stares at the gift, her heart melting at his tiny chirp. 

“That’s why you ran off…?”

Carefully, she picks up the finger-sized fang, mindful of its sharp point. She can’t identify what type of demon it once belonged to, but it certainly at one point had a nasty bite.

“Not gonna lie, that’s kind of adorable,” Nero says, crouching down to get a better look. Cautiously, he reaches out and pats the cub’s head. “Nice catch buddy.”

Dolos preens at the attention.

“Thank you Dolos. This is a very thoughtful gift. Just… make sure you’re more careful next time. Please? You can’t just go running off like that.”

The cub chirps in agreement. Ruffling his fur, Skylar pockets the fang for safekeeping. Only then does she scoop him back up into her arms. With the afternoon beginning to fade, they swiftly make it back to the house. 

Finally arriving back in the backyard, Nero collapses onto the grass, mindful of Hemera right at his heels. The little demon hadn’t stopped chattering away since the battle, eagerly talking about how awesome Nero’s Devil Trigger was. Skylar was thankful he couldn’t understand the cub. The last thing she want was any hero worship to go to his head.

Skylar plops down next to him, laying back on the crumpled leaves and splotchy grass. 

“This never happened.” She groans. What had she done to deserve this kind of chaos?

“You know, if I’m ever in your shoes….”

“Oh no, I know. I’ll be there. Let’s just hope it never does.” Skylar sighs. “I swear, I’m never having kids.”

Nero snorts.

It seems the cubs had enough trouble for one day, Dolos nudges her side evidently wanting to cuddle. Sitting up, Skylar settles him onto her lap, running her fingers through his soft fluffy fur. He hadn’t developed the smooth texture that his mother had yet, but every day he continued to grow into those oversized paws of his. 

Skylar both dreaded and eagerly awaited the little rugrats growing into their own. Babysitting them was bound to become a lot more difficult, but fun nonetheless. 

Nyx was going to be busy.

“Ah, c’mon… not more demon drool.”

Skylar looks over to watch as Nero shakes his right arm, Aether dangling off of it. The cub’s jaw is stubbornly locked on the man’s forearm.

“Aether!” Nero scolds to no avail. He waves his arm again trying to pry the stubborn Shadow off. “Bad demon! Let go!”

Aether continues to blissfully chew on the rough plates, completely ignoring the devil hunter’s protests. His needle-like claws stubbornly dig into the scaled ridges as he teethes. The combination of Nero’s offended expression and the drool pooling down his arm has her doubling over in laughter. He continues to battle with the clueless cub, a battle which the devil hunter is completely losing. She hears the start of an argument between Dolos and Hemera, but can’t bring herself to care. Nero scowls at her.

“Little help here?” 

“Hell no! This is the best entertainment I’ve had all day.”

Her fun is cut short as she senses another presence approach the yard. Nero freezes, his eyes darting over to where Nyx slinks out of the dense foliage. They eye each other, the air growing tense with their standoff. Skylar stands at the ready, not in the mood for any more conflict. Fortunately, the three hellions come to her rescue. 

The trio dash over to their mother, chittering with excitement. Skylar only catches a few words, the Shadows talking so fast she has a hard time understanding them. Nyx stares at them in bewilderment, seemingly also overwhelmed with their energy. With one last cursory glance at Nero, Nyx turns to her, dipping her head in thanks. Skylar returns the gesture and watches as the peculiar family disappears into the woods. 

Skylar heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks…” She says in earnest. Skylar only turns to face Nero after she knows the Shadows are long gone. “I mean it. You really saved the day back there. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to him.”

Nero waves her off.

“Hey, you kept Julio safe. How about we call it even?” Nero holds out his Devil Bringer. Skylar gives it a shake before realizing….

“Eww, that is a lot of drool.” Drawing her hand away, watching as the sticky substance clings to her claws. Nero’s shit-eating grin tempts her to wipe it on his coat. 

“That’s what you get for leaving me hanging like that.”

“Oh come on, he’s the equivalent of a child.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

They begin walking towards the house, Nero eager to go home and wash the gunk from his scales. He suddenly curses. 

“Aw shit. That’s what you get for being cheap.”

Skylar follows his gaze, noticing the small tears in the blue fabric of his coat. She winces, as she realizes they’re not mending on their own.

“You don’t have any enchantments on it?” She asks curiously. Enchantments were an absolute requirement for hunters who wanted to keep their clothes intact. After all, demon hunting was a messy business. 

“A few, but only the bare minimum.” Nero inspects the damage, obviously annoyed. “I haven’t been able to find anyone who can actually do a decent job. With the Order being, well, shit, all my usual sources are gone.”

From the look of the tears, Skylar regretfully concludes that one of the cubs was probably the culprit. Well, since he was already here….

“If you don’t mind hanging out for a bit longer, I could take a look.” She offers. “I’ve learned how to enchant all of my own stuff. Least I could do after all that.”

Nero pauses, mulling over her offer. He finally shrugs. 

“Not like you can do a worse job. Sure why not.”

“Sorry for the mess. I uh, wasn’t expecting company.”

Ever….

At least she had a couch now as well as a coffee table. Not that that was saying much, with the half-ripped-up floors in the spare room and the stray tiles littering random areas of the house. Cringing, Skylar tries to ignore the discomfort gnawing at her. Demons didn’t care about stripped walls and leaky faucets. 

It takes her a moment to realize that she wants to make a good impression. That she actually cares about what Nero thinks. For so long she’s been used to keeping out of the spotlight, not letting anyone get close enough to see what lay beyond. People always had their opinions, and the majority of the time, they hurt. She should be used to that. She shouldn’t care what others thought.

And yet, here she stood, nervously clearing the coffee table of last night’s dishes. 

“I, uh, should have some books about enchanting somewhere in here. Um, make yourself comfortable I guess. I’ll be right back.”

Making herself scarce, Skylar goes to dig through the stack of books shoved in the corner of her room. She can hear the idle steps from the living room as Nero looks around. Her attention snaps back to her search as she finds the correct tome. 

“There you are you little bugger.” She mumbles to no one in particular. Quickly flipping through the pages, she checks it for the right spell work before snapping it shut. Good, good, now for the components and she should be—

“Didn’t think you were one for plants. You know, with the fire magic and all.”

Skylar jumps, forcefully batting down the sudden surge of demonic power from snapping forwards. It wasn’t often someone snuck up on her. Turning around, she finds Nero leaning against the door frame, staring at her growing collection of plants. His eyes flick around the barebones room and there’s something in his expression she can’t completely pin. She tries not to think about it too much. 

“They’re a lot cooler than people give them credit for.” She shrugs, trying to hide any evidence of her miniature freak-out. “They’ll give you a deal sometimes if you grab one of the sick looking ones. Then all you do is give it a little TLC and most of the time it’s good as new.”

He looks at the tiny fairy castle cactus nestled in the corner. Some of its thorns had been broken, a nasty brown spot marring a portion of it.

“That one’s not looking too hot.”

“Yeah, he’s been having some trouble, but I’m not giving up on him yet. Little more time and I think he’ll pull through. He’s a fighter.”

Nero goes silent for a moment, looking at the struggling cactus. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he will.” He finally agrees. “Can’t let all the other plants show him up.”

He goes back to looking at all the other plants, once in a while asking the species of one or the other. Apparently, his girlfriend Kyrie is also fond of plants and he had been planning on giving her one as a surprise. Eventually, he glances at the worn corkboard hanging on the adjacent wall, a menagerie of photos pinned onto it. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you moved around a lot.” His eyes pause on one particular polaroid. “Are those… clowns in the background?”

A younger version of her stares back, a cheesy smile adorning her face. Dressed in a dull, threadbare jacket and smudged with dirt, she looks very out of place alongside the colorful backdrop. Fenrir smushes against her side, staring at the camera with a somewhat confused expression. The massive bleacher steps loom above them, their makeshift seats in the circus tent. 

She smirks at the memento. 

“Yeah. The circus was in town at the same time we were in Raccoon City. I was, eleven? I think? We were able to sneak in with so many people around. It was the first time I had ever tried cotton candy. If I remember right, Fenrir somehow snagged one of those giant turkey legs.”

They had gotten out scot-free as well. A rarity for many of their adventures in years past. 

“That was a fun day.” She reminisces. “You ever been to a circus?”

“Nah, but Fortuna used to put on a festival every fall; something about renewal or whatever. Didn’t really understand what it was all about, but the city was always decorated with lights that lit up the whole downtown. I used to sneak out of the orphanage and watch the fireworks from the rooftops. Got caught a few times, but it was worth it. Finally was actually able to go when I moved in with the Elisions.” 

“Do they still do it? That sounds like fun.”

Nero shakes his head, his expression souring.

“That old kook Sanctus put an end to it a few years back. No clue why, but I’m not surprised. But, even with him dead, I don’t think it’s gonna happen anytime soon.” 

Skylar doesn’t hide her disappointment.

“Damn, not going to lie, I was hoping to see some fireworks. It’s been years.” She sighs, scooping up her collection of odds and ends. “This is why we can’t have nice things. Psycho megalomaniacs.” 

“Surprised you even know that word.” Nero teases.

“Hey, whose offering to do the complex enchantment work?” She asks in mock offense. “Yeah, me! Besides…”

Skylar pauses for dramatic effect.

“I know a lot more than that.” She growls out. 

Nero scrunches his brow, looking confused.

“What the hell is that? You kept doing it when Dolos was up in the tree.”

“Infernal.”

She receives a look of disbelief. 

“You’re joking.”

Her smirk grows smug.

“I’ve spent more than half my life traveling with a demon. It shouldn’t be a surprise I picked up a few things.”

That garners a scoff. Nero shakes his head incredulously. 

“And here I just thought you were making weird animal noises. Alright, you’ve got me. I’ve got one question though.”

She tilts her head in question.

“Know any swear words?”

The smirk grows into a full-on grin, all teeth, and kindred amusement.

“I know enough to make an arch-devil blush a pretty shade of pink.” She answers as she stands up and begins to make her way into the living room.

“Now you’re talking.” Nero mirrors her grin, following her. He suddenly pauses. “Holy shit.… that’s what you’re doing when we go hunting. You’re swearing in demon.”

“Again, it’s Infernal. But yeah, took you long enough to figure it out. Do you want to learn or not? Because if you keep talking like that, I’m not teaching you anything.” 

“Oh trust me, now that I know your trick, I’d pick it up easily.”

Skylar rolls her eyes as she plops the books onto the coffee table.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“No, no, you gotta roll the ‘r’ more, or else it’s just random noises.”

Nero clears his throat, trying again. Skylar bites back a laugh.

“What? Did I say it wrong?”

“No, that was perfect.” She holds back a snicker. “Congratulations, you just told me you're an idiot.”

A soda can goes flying at her head. She laughs, nimbly dodging it along with the pillow making a beeline for her face.

“Skylar!”

Chapter Text

Kyrie knows Fortuna like the back of her hand. Every little nook, every quiet park bench, she has explored and logged in the back of her mind. For her, it’s only a matter of time until she stumbled across the work site, the scaffolding adorning the buildings a telltale sign of Mister Elliott and his crew. Strolling into the courtyard, the clunking steps on the rooftops echo down to the street below. A nail gun cracks in the air, securing a part of the exposed roof frame. Looking up, Kyrie scans the scattered group of workers. 

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Miss Eleison?”

Kyrie pauses her search, addressing the man with a warm smile. 

“Hello, Mister Elliott. It has been a while.”

Since Credo’s funeral to be exact. Despite Credo’s high rank in the Order, they had kept the procession small, only allowing close friends and family. Mister Elliott had been a friend of her father’s and in turn, had watched her and Credo grow up.  

“How have you been Kyrie? Life been treating you alright?”

“It is certainly busier, but that is not something to complain about. And you? Last I heard Mrs. Elliott made a full recovery, correct?”

They talk, Kyrie catching curious looks from the men on the edge of the roof. She pays them no mind, simply enjoying the mundaneness of their conversation. It had been so long since she had chatted with a family friend. Something so bittersweet had to be taken in small doses, lest she loses herself in a past that she knows she will never regain. It was already hard enough not to dwell on it. 

The bell tower tolling twelve breaks them from their discussion. Boots clatter above, many eager for a much-needed break. A glitter of silver catches her eye and Kyrie watches who she assumes is Skylar plop down on an exposed beam, letting her legs dangle precariously over the edge. The woman balances a hard hat on her knee as she reties her hair. Mister Elliott follows her gaze.

“So she does have something to do with him. I won’t lie, couldn’t believe what I was seeing the day she came asking for a job. The boy’s got his own mini-me.”

“We’re still trying to figure that out.” She says, unable to look away from the woman on the roof. The resemblance was strangely uncanny. “But yes… I can see what you mean.”

Mister Elliott waves his arm to catch the woman's attention. 

“Hey, Missy!” He shouts to the rooftops. “Got someone here wanting to talk with you!”

“Be there in a sec!”

Popping the hard hat back on her head, Skylar deftly lifts herself up and jumps down onto a neighboring ledge. With an unnatural amount of grace, she quickly makes her way down to the street, and Kyrie is suddenly confronted with the woman’s calculating stare. She suddenly realizes how tall Skylar is as she stands next to the two of them, towering over even Mister Elliott. Nonetheless, he looks at her unperturbed. 

“Now, I don’t want to hear from Miss Eleison of any funny business. You’re still on the clock, which means you’re under my supervision, understand?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Be back by two o’clock. I need you to move those pallets.”

Kyrie looks over to see a multitude of stacks of roof tiles. One alone would take at least four men to lift, yet Skylar nods as if this is a normal occurrence, earning herself a pleased look. With that, Mister Elliott walks off without another word, already talking business with another contractor. Kyrie signals to her to follow and the two of them weave through the city streets. It’s a bit of a tense silence, Skylar’s questioning stare lancing her every so often. Kyrie is certain now the woman has figured out who she is but has yet to say anything. They eventually settle on a secluded park bench, far enough from prying ears, but close enough that she could escape if anything were to go awry. 

Kyrie prays that won’t be the case.

“Huh, so you’re Kyrie.” Skylar comments, confirming her suspicions. “I don’t know how I missed that earlier.”

“You remember me?”

“Not every day someone flings holy water on you. Especially that potent.”

Skylar goes silent, her eyes narrowing as her expression hardens ever so slightly. Skylar’s gaze flicks to the purse slung over Kyrie’s shoulder, wariness returning in full force. 

“Where’d you get the holy water?” Skylar asks nonchalantly. The underlying threat lingers. “That stuff is rare, especially nowadays.” 

Despite the hostility, Kyrie levels her gaze, pointedly ignoring the basket. She shouldn’t be surprised that the woman had assumed she was carrying it with her, except, she was wrong about its location. Her hands neatly stay folded in her lap.

“My father taught me how to make it. He thought it would be a useful skill.”

“It’s a difficult thing to learn, I’ll give you that." Her eyes flick over to her bag again. "I’m guessing you have some on you right now?”

“You’d be right. Not everyone can summon fire at a snap of a finger.”

“And what do you plan to do with it?”

“Nothing, as long as I didn’t feel endangered.” She replies coolly. 

That garners an amused scoff.

“Trust me, I don’t have a death wish. I’d be stupid to mess with a devil’s mate.”

“Excuse me?”

It was an odd choice of words, one which had many connotations she wasn’t sure she was comfortable with. Skylar seems to realize that as well. 

“Oh, uh… girlfriend. Sorry, just a slip of the tongue.” Skylar chuckles nervously. She pointedly keeps her face tilted away, but Kyrie can see the blush tinging her cheeks.

What had she meant by that?

“Moving on!” The woman declares, breaking Kyrie from her thoughts. “So, anything I can do for you?”

She decides to drop the subject, for now, instead unbundling the contents of the wicker basket. Retrieving a parchment-wrapped sandwich, she carefully covers the bottom with a cloth handkerchief making sure the holy water is obscured from view. Kyrie holds the sandwich out to Skylar in a silent offering. 

“I simply wanted to get to know you better. It’s not every day I get to meet a new face in Fortuna.”

The woman looks between her and the sandwich with evident trepidation, but she eventually takes it from her.

“Not much to know honestly. Just a nobody who has a penchant for wandering.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard. Nero talks quite a bit about you, you know?”

“Really?” Skylar attempts to smother her evident surprise with a scoff. “Probably nothing good.”

“You’d be surprised. I hear you were the one to help him pick out the bouquet he brought me a few days ago. I must say, you have an amazing knowledge of flowers.”

Skylar idly scratches the back of her neck.

“Oh, uh, well, it’s nothing really. He had mentioned that the first one had wilted really quickly so I just gave him some tips and tricks for picking healthy flowers.”

The classy assortment of flowers she had received told a slightly different story. While she always treasured anything Nero brought her, Kyrie knew the man’s style. It was loud, just as bold as he was, which at times resulted in a large mismatch of different flora. The collection of daffodils, irises, and white lilies had been uncharacteristically elegant, especially with its carefully tied blue satin bow running up the length of the stems. According to Nero, the two of them had walked past the flower shop one day and it had taken only moments for Skylar to showcase her knowledge and fascination when it came to the language of flowers. Nero had designed the bouquet based on what he had learned. 

“Well, they are still very fresh and very charming. I have them on my kitchen counter so I can enjoy them while I cook.”

She receives a quiet nod, but Kyrie doesn’t miss the soft smile quirking on Skylar’s lips. 

Kyrie allows her time to mull over her thoughts, silently unwrapping the sandwich she brought for herself. It’s not until Kyrie takes a bite of her own lunch that Skylar follows suit. After taking a tentative taste, Skylar stares at her food with silent disbelief. For a moment, Kyrie is worried something is wrong but is quickly proven wrong when the woman takes a greedy bite. Nibbling on her own lunch, Kyrie takes the time to really observe her lunch companion. 

Despite being around the same height as Nero, the woman sports a lither frame, lean muscle shifting under her oversized jacket. At first, Kyrie thought the baggy clothes may be a stylistic choice, but the slight gauntness in her cheeks and the protruding collarbone hovering above her shirt tells of a different story.

Nero had once explained while he didn’t require as much food as it normally took to survive, he noticed that a lack of it hindered his healing. Kyrie knew that he still felt the same gnawing hunger despite that by his appetite after a gruelingly long job. She always made sure that he ate some sort of breakfast in the morning, knowing that he probably would neglect to eat until dinner on especially busy days. 

Skylar munches on her lunch quickly, as if fearful it would be taken from her at any moment. Occasionally, her eyes scan her surroundings, an action that reminds Kyrie of a skittish animal. When she notices the shallow cut on Skylar’s brow and the dark bruise below her cheekbone, she’s already making a mental note to send Nero with some leftovers for her the next time they spar.

“I brought extra if you would like. I know how stringent Mister Elliott's work ethic can be.”

Skylar pauses mid-chomp, suddenly realizing that she’s almost done with her meal while Kyrie has only taken a few bites. She sits there a bit awkwardly, fighting an internal battle. With a sigh and a shake of her head, Kyrie fishes out another sandwich, wordlessly handing it to her. Skylar eyes it hesitantly before dipping her head in thanks and taking it. Kyrie shouldn’t be surprised at the trepidation, Nero had a hard time asking for help as well.  

He had told her about the state of Skylar's home, with its cracked ceiling and sparse furnishings. Kyrie remembers that cottage, the house of an old researcher who kept to the edge of the city. He had died when she was younger, the house left abandoned for years to come. To even think about anyone living in it now….

“Nero told me that you liked gardening?” Skylar asks, unwrapping the other sandwich. “I was thinking about building some raised bed in the spring, but I wasn’t sure of what to plant. It’s kind of hard to tell what grows well here.”

Kyrie hums in agreement. 

“I’ll tell you what I know if you tell me about your succulents. In the past, I have had a surprisingly hard time keeping them alive. Is it true you have one that is flowering?“

Skylar perks up at the question but hesitates before she speaks. 

“I, um, have some pictures on my phone if you’d like to see.” There’s a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

“I would love to.”

Eagerly, Skylar fishes out her phone, quickly unlocking it. The home screen is a selfie of the woman and a massive wolf resting its head atop hers. The wolf, who she assumes is Fenrir, sticks his tongue out at the camera. Skylar is captured with her head tilted in the middle of a laugh. Kyrie scoots a bit closer so she’s can read over Skylar’s shoulder. 

“I named this one Plastic because for about a month I thought I accidentally bought a plastic plant. There was this one time that he….”

“Damn it!” Skylar curses, noticing a blob of mustard staining the bandage wrapped around her arm. Pausing her talk about the ins and outs of mixing potting soil, she twists her arm to get a better look at the mess. She snags a napkin, hastily trying to wipe it away, only to smear it more between the dense fabric. Skylar awkwardly tugs a part of the fabric upwards in an attempt to disguise the mess. Kyrie doesn’t miss the annoyed growl rumbling in the woman’s chest.

“Do you need help?” Kyrie asks. She makes sure to wipe her hands clean. “I could rewrap it if you would like.”

Kyrie holds out her hand, her silent offer to help. To her surprise, Skylar violently flinches back, her posture tense, eyes wide and fearful.

“No!” Skylar snaps, causing Kyrie to jump. Fear is quickly replaced with regret as Skylar realizes that she may have overreacted. “I mean, thank you, but I’m okay. I’m…” 

She sighs, avoiding her gaze.

“I uh…” Her hand plays with a loose part of the bandage. “Sorry, I’m just not used to people looking at it. It, well, I...”

“I understand.” Kyrie soothes. “It took Nero some time to not be so self-conscious about his arm. Being in a new place, having lunch with a stranger, it only makes sense for you to be defensive. As much as it pains me to admit, people don’t always have the best intentions. But I know how uncomfortable it can be to keep it covered like that. Nero used to complain about it every once in a while.“

Skylar cocks her head.

“I keep forgetting that you would know about this type of stuff. Honestly, it feels weird talking about it so casually.”

She sits there for a moment in silent contemplation. Wordlessly, Skylar holds out her arm. 

“If the offer’s still there, I, uh, I could use some help. It can be a bit difficult rewrapping it.”

Kyrie nods but does not move in case Skylar changes her mind. Her arm still extended towards her, Kyrie finally reaches out, to grasp her hand. The fingers twitch before going deathly still. Keeping her movements slow, she carefully unwinds the stained bandage from Skylar’s arm. Just as she had predicted, the woman’s forearm is covered in a thick bulky hide. It’s certainly more muted than Nero’s arm, less kept, with dead scales sticking to some of the scutes. Talons tip her fingers where fingernails would usually be, her palm a warm mix of orange and red, unlike Nero’s cool blue. Nonetheless, the subtle glow runs up her arm in a familiar manner, stuttering ever so slightly at her touch. It’s a tick she recognizes from Nero when he’s anxious.

“Yeah, I know, it’s kind of creepy, huh?” Skylar grumbles, pulling Kyrie from her thoughts. The woman pointedly tries to avoid her gaze.

“No, not at all.” Kyrie insists. “If anything, there’s a sort of beauty to it. Like a campfire on a summer’s night.” She properly wipes the bandage clean before rewinding it up Skylar’s arm. Halfway up the wrist, she pauses to look up. Skylar stares at her wide-eyed. 

“You Fortunians must be a different breed. I have no idea how you are so calm about this.”

Kyrie shrugs.

“People come in many shapes and sizes.” She explains as she continues to wind the bandage. “We cannot choose what that shape may be when we’re born, but we can choose the type of person we want to be. We can choose how we act, who we love, if we wish to change. You are no different. Your arm is your arm, just like my arm is mine. It’s what you choose to do with it that matters. Will you hold it out to others in kindness or curl it in a fist and strike? Just like everyone else in this world, that is your choice to make.”

The end of the bandage is secured with a tidy knot. Skylar quietly surveys her work, her left hand hovering over it in amazement.

“I think I’m starting to understand why Nero’s so infatuated with you. You’re certainly more than meets the eye.” She laughs, however, it quickly tappers out. Kyrie doesn’t miss her sudden somber tone. “I wish I had heard that years ago. There were many days that I needed to. It would have helped a lot.” 

Once again, Kyrie holds out her hand. To both her surprise and relief, Skylar takes it, albeit a bit hesitantly. Her grip is gentle but strong, the scales radiating heat from below the coarse material. 

“Kindness is powerful in its own right.” She squeezes her hand for emphasis. “I believe that’s why the Order crumbled as it did. The reason Sparda was so powerful was because he had the ability to love, to show kindness to a race his kind believed were little more than insects. Many people seem to have forgotten that.”

She felt hypocritical saying such things with her faith shaken and her heart so lost. Yet, curiously, she still felt comfort in such words. If Skylar did as well, then it was worth such hypocrisy. 

“Fenrir always talks about Sparda’s thing for honor, but kindness is a whole different story.” Skylar mumbles. “How you talk, he sounds so….” 

“Human.” Kyrie provides.

“Yeah. It’s kind of weird to think about.”

Kyrie nods in sympathy.

“I imagine. Nero’s always been a bit strange regarding Sparda as well.”

Skylar stares silently at her hand still held in hers. Her lips draw into a thin line.

“Can I ask you something that might seem a little rude?” She suddenly asks.

“The fact that you’re asking is at least courteous. Go ahead.”

Despite gaining her permission, Skylar still doesn’t seem keen on asking her question. 

“Has that ever affected your opinion of Nero?” She finally asks. “You know, the fact that he might carry the blood of your god?”

A curious question. She doesn’t blame Skylar for asking it, especially with her situation so similar to Nero’s. Fortunately, it was one question that Kyrie had asked herself many times, especially when their relationship had evolved into something serious. A question that she most certainly had an answer to. 

“Nero is just… well, Nero. That’s how I’ve always seen him, from the day that I met him. No matter how much he’s been through, how many people treated him so poorly, he still tries to help, to protect the innocent. If there’s anything of Sparda within him, that’s the only thing that matters.” Kyrie grins, adding a teasing edge to her next words. “I’ll only ever see Nero as the loving, bashful man I’ve come to adore.”

She’s rewarded with a bark of laughter.

“I don’t know about bashful.” Skylar chuckles. “Maybe as in trying to bash my skull in every week, but the feeling is mutual.”

Kyrie raises an eyebrow. 

“In the nicest way possible I mean! You know, like in friendly competition and all.”

Kyrie would beg to differ from the bruised state Nero came home in some days. But, the memory of the proud grin he wore as he walked into the garage, mixed with the excitement as he recounted an especially impressive combat maneuver he was able to pull off earlier had her holding her tongue. It had been a long time since she’d seen such unadulterated joy. She had to often remind herself that she was in love with a warrior. Fighting was in his blood. 

From afar, Kyrie hears the clock tower strike two. With a groan, Skylar draws her hand away. She slowly stands up, taking her time with every movement. It’s obvious she’s lamenting that her break is done. Rolling her shoulders, she pauses to give Kyrie a polite nod.  

“Thanks for the lunch Kyrie. I haven’t eaten something that good in, well, a long time. I appreciate it. I’ll have to give you the details about the potting soil later.”

Hope flutters within her. 

“Then, will I be seeing you again sometime?”

Any remaining doubt or fear Kyrie carried at the beginning of their meeting is swept away with the genuine grin she receives. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Text

She’s tempted to smack her head against the table. Weeks. Weeks she’s been looking, pouring over countless pages of archaic lore, hoping to find some semblance of an answer, a notion of escape. Fortuna was her last hope to get ahead of it. It’s hunting for her, she knows it. Preparing was all she could do now. 

Hopefully, she would get another chance once it was all over.

Skylar slams the book shut, the spine protesting at the force. Another patron glares at her, obviously annoyed at the sudden noise. In her annoyed state, Skylar openly glares back, not caring about courtesy. It’s not long before the person drops their head, actively avoiding her gaze. 

With the certainty she would notice if someone tampered with her possessions, she walks away, strolling through the columns of literature in hope of finding something useful. Every so often she pauses, plucking a book from the shelf to sift through it, only to snap it close before returning it to its spot. She loses track of how many times she does this, how many times her frustration spikes when she finds absolutely nothing of substance. 

Her magic simmers. The intrusive thought to burn something crosses her mind. 

The book is quickly returned to its shelf. Skylar forces herself to take a deep breath. She really didn’t need to be kicked out for breaking something, especially if it cost her a few months’ worths of her income. Turning to return to her desk and call it a day, she freezes. 

What was…?

Her magic still in flux, something faintly resonates from the second floor. Still reeling in surprise, her curiosity spurs her forward, taking the stairs in twos in hopes of not losing whatever she just discovered. Sparing a quick glance at her surroundings, she unwraps a portion of her Devil Bringer, letting its light illuminate the crowded shelves. Slowly, she examines the silent aisles, following the changing glow of her arm. She threads more magic into the air, hoping for the source to respond. 

A bookshelf against a nearby wall answers; the fiery scales flare as she approaches. Crouching down, Skylar inspects the strange collection of literature, looking for anything out of place. Dust covers the flat wooden surface, evidence of how long anyone has passed through here. 

Were the books a clue?

Thumbing through a couple of the old tomes, it becomes evident that they offer no help. She stares at the shelf, flicking her gaze between it and her still-glowing arm. 

If it wasn’t the books, then….

Removing the shelf’s contents uncovers a rune carefully scratched into a loose brick in the wall. Hovering her hand over it, it pulses with an ethereal blue, sparking to life under her touch. 

Snap!

“Ow! What the—?” Skylar jerks her hand back, her fingers still tingling from the unexpected shock. Cheeky little….

She tries again, albeit with a bit more caution. The magic feels oddly familiar, akin to a thunderstorm roaring from above. Strangely, it doesn’t resist her meddling, easily harmonizing with her crackling energy. A few minutes later, she unlocks the ward, much to her surprise. It shouldn’t have been that easy, right? Carefully removing the brick, Skylar freezes, waiting for any signs of a trap. 

Nothing.

She peeks into the hidden compartment and….

“Huh?” 

The journal weighs heavily in her hand, the leather-bound cover catching the light in an unnatural way. 

Demon hide, she notes as she inspects it. A sturdy metal lock keeps the journal latched shut. It’s impossible to miss the runes adorning it. Skylar sighs. 

Great. More spellwork to break. Whoever was this thing’s owner seriously didn’t want anyone looking inside. Unfortunately for them, she was stubborn, especially when it came to sate her curiosity. However, she already knows it was going to take much more than curiosity to crack this seal. She scratches her head. The magic surrounding it still feels familiar.

Weaving her magic into the lock, she attempts to fry the seal from the inside out. The runes light up again with the blue glow, and she once again snatches back her hand as they snap out at her, this time with more force. It gives an annoyed buzz of warning before falling silent again. With a sigh, she stands up to reorganize the bookshelf. 

This was probably not the best place to be meddling with advanced magic. 

Tucking the journal under her arm, Skylar returns to her desk, noting that her things have been indeed not tampered with. She gives the area a quick glance, making sure no one is around before stuffing the journal in her bag with the rest of her things. Ducking her head, she slinks out of the library, nobody the wiser. 

At least, until she gets across the street and hears someone call her name. 

“Miss Skylar!” 

There are only a few people passing by, luckily none paying her any mind. It’s only when she hears the fast-approaching footsteps does she quickly turn around. Something smashes into her leg, catching her off guard and it takes her a moment to finally process that Julio is clinging onto her leg. His anxious demeanor has her surveying the area. 

Was he being chased again? Were there more demons?

“Julio? Hey, is everything alright? You’re not in any danger are you?”

The kid lets go as she crouches to his level, only to suddenly tackle her in a hug. For a second time today, her brain slowly has to catch up, not really sure what to do. While Fenrir always snuggled up against her, nuzzling her in a demonic version of a hug, it was much different from the little arms wrapped around her. When was the last time she’d been hugged by another person? She’s unsure what to do with her arms. 

“I’m so sorry Miss Skylar! I didn’t mean for you to get hurt! But the demons were so scary, and I didn’t know—“

His rambling is cut short.

“Julio! Julio, where did you…?” Kyrie comes bolting around the corner, finally catching sight of the runaway. A toddler is tucked securely in her arms, the boy clutching a worn teddy bear. “Oh, Julio….”

Julio lets go, spinning around to face her. Skylar ignores the sudden twinge in her heart and silently watches the exchange. 

“I’m sorry Miss Kyrie but I saw her walking away and I had to know she was okay! Please don’t be mad!”

Kyrie shakes her head.

“I’m not mad,” she replies softly, reaching out to ruffle Julio’s hair. “But you have to know whenever you do that, you worry me to no end. Wouldn’t you worry if one of us went missing?”

Julio nods solemnly, his gaze downcast.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. Really. I mean it.”

“I know.” Kyrie sighs. “Just please, this has to be the last time. If you want to go somewhere or talk to someone, all you need to do is ask. Then we can go together. Okay?”

“Okay, Miss Kyrie.”

Kyrie nods as Julio returns to her side, before turning to address her.

“Fancy meeting you here Skylar. How are you?”

“Not too shabby.” Skylar shrugs before adding sincerely. “I’ve been meaning to thank you in person for the stuff you sent over with Nero. You really didn’t have to do that.”

About a week ago, Nero had unexpectedly shown up at her front door carrying a paper shopping bag. He had roughly shoved it in her arms, threatening her that if she tried to return it he would “kick her ass” and promptly left before she could get a word in. Skylar had been so caught off guard that even when she peeked inside and cursed, it was too late to chase after him.

That night she enjoyed probably the best meal she’d ever had. She particularly loved the carefully packed lentil soup; just from the smell, she knew it was homemade, lacking the metallic scent that came from canned goods. The taste was indescribably good, to the point that it even tempted Fenrir to take a taste. She never thought she’d see the day the demon would willingly eat something that contained vegetables. 

It was a miracle, but what else should she have expected from Kyrie?

Her arm suddenly hums in a familiar manner, the sensation crawling upwards and tapping at the base of her skull. Skylar looks to the other side of the street, already knowing who was about to turn the corner. Sure enough, Nero appears, a boy with blonde hair and a dinosaur shirt in tow. He had to be only a little younger than Julio.

It was strange. The more time she spent with the man, the more accustomed she was becoming to his presence, a strange sixth sense to his current whereabouts. Nero looks up meeting her eyes, his brow quirking. It seemed as if the connection worked both ways. 

“You know? It’s not cool to just shove random stuff in my arms and walk away with absolutely no explanation.” She scolds as he joins their conversation. “You could have at least texted me.”

Nero scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“And give you time to bull- make up an excuse not to take it. Not a chance. I know how you operate.” 

A bit of worry crosses Kyrie’s expression.

“Did everything taste alright?” She asks earnestly. “I was in a hurry when I packed everything.” 

She watches a smug grin tug at the corner of Nero’s mouth, knowing she’s been backed into a corner. Despite only knowing Kyrie for around two weeks, the woman had already found a place in Skylar’s heart. 

Also, she was just impossibly kind. Like seriously, how ?

“Kyrie, everything was amazing. Is there anything I owe you or—?”

Kyrie shakes her head.

“No, absolutely nothing.”

“Are you sure? Because—“

“Skylar.” Kyrie interrupts her again, this time partnered with a sharp, warning look. “ Nothing . Understand?”

Skylar gulps. 

“Yes ma’am.” In all honesty, she’s scared of what will happen if she gives any other response. To her relief, that seems to sate the surprisingly terrifying woman.

“Good. Now with that out of the way, we were planning to go to the park. Would you like to join us?”

Julio radiates excitement. 

“Yeah, Miss Skylar you should come! I can show you my favorite spot to look for frogs!”

She doesn’t miss Nero’s ghost of a shudder at the mention of frogs. Kyrie seems amused at the man’s discomfort, her teasing glance hinting at some inside joke. Her curiosity getting the better of her, as well as having nothing left to do for the rest of the day, Skylar agrees.

“Now I can’t miss that.” She replies, tucking that factoid away for later. “Sure, if you don’t mind me tagging along.”

“Awesome!” Julio exclaims, snagging her hand with no hesitation and tugging her forwards. Unable to think of what else to do, Skylar surrenders to the boy’s enthusiasm, allowing herself to be pulled along. 

Their odd little group strolls through town, Julio filling the silence with various trivia facts and things he’s learned about in school. Eventually, the boy walking with Nero chimes in, Kyle she learns, adds his own two cents. A bit of a chatterbox, Kyle seems to quickly get on the little scholar’s nerves. Julio makes it a point to correct Kyle on his misinformation, and the discussion quickly devolves into the start of an argument. When the two begin to bicker, Nero intervenes, leading the conversation away from whatever dispute was about to erupt and guiding it back to safer waters. The adults of the group give a collective sigh of relief when the situation defuses.

Every once in a while, Skylar can’t resist the urge to steal a few glances at Kyrie in hopes to wrap her around how such a woman could be so strangely terrifying. The last time she felt intimidated in such a way was when the orphanage matron had caught her scaling one of the building trellises on a dare. The verbal lashing she had received still haunted her. 

“Something on your mind?” Nero asks, breaking her from her thoughts. Kyle now rides atop his shoulders.

“I fight literal demons every other day, heck, I live with one.” Skylar nods her head in Kyrie’s general direction. “But she gives me an angry look and I immediately want to run for the hills.”

To her surprise, he merely claps her on the shoulder, a look of understanding in his eyes.

“Welcome to my world.”

Chapter Text

The bus jostles as it hits another pothole, waking Nero from his light slumber. Rolling his shoulders, he tries to stretch in the cramped space, having been sitting for much longer than he’d wished. He wrinkles his nose, the stale air in the cabin unpleasant. Straightening in his seat, he surveys the now mostly empty bus. Other than the bus driver, a balding man in his late forties, six other people occupy the surrounding seats. With it being so late, the majority of them are dozing, with a few swiping away on their phones. A woman, four seats in front of him, hushes a baby, her soft words comforting the newborn back to sleep. 

The bus dips again. His hand steadies Red Queen’s case leaning next to him in the aisle. The person in the seat next to him shifts, sleepily mumbling something, before settling again.

To his left, Skylar is curled up in her seat, her head cushioned by her arm. Despite her height, she somehow smushes herself against the window, her steady breath fogging up the smudged glass. Her red hood obscures much of her face, yet a strand of white hair still flutters over her cheek. Fingers curl around the worn fabric of her leather jacket.

It had been Kyrie’s idea for Skylar to tag along to his first job outside Fortuna. His mixed feelings had been evident, as he was used to working alone. He had suspicions the higher-ups had been trying to get him killed, assigning him to progressively deadlier targets. After everything that happened with the Savior, he could guarantee that had been their intent.

He holds back a shiver, trying not to think about who those targets might have once been.

But now, as much as he was used to being alone, he didn’t always like it. After mulling it over for the rest of the afternoon, he’d agreed to Kyrie’s suggestion. Her relief confirmed his suspicions.

Kyrie worried when he worked alone.

Being alone meant no backup if things went awry. Being alone lead to a chance of injury. 

Being alone could get him killed. 

And it wasn’t like bringing Skylar along couldn’t prove useful. As Kyrie had pointed out, he had never traveled this far away from home. Navigating the train station and then jumping multiple buses had been much more stressful than he had imagined. Not only was it strange being in such unfamiliar territory, but interacting with so many different people inflicted a strange anxiety he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe it was how many of them only spared a quick glance at his hair, before going about their day, or how a few people had outright flirted with him instead of scrutinizing him or calling him a freak. 

Skylar had laughed at him when they had boarded the train. A clerk had been very keen on getting his number. Minding his manners, he politely told Skylar to “fuck off”, which spurred a whole new wave of teasing. Nero had gotten his revenge when Skylar ran into a pole at the next bus stop, having been distracted while tormenting him.

It seemed even supernatural reflexes couldn’t outpace karma.

Yet, despite their rivalry, despite the occasional squabbles, despite the smug remarks, Nero preferred the chaos. All his life, he had been the outcast. His parents hadn’t wanted him, the orphanage hadn’t wanted him. Even after being fostered by Kyrie’s folks, he still didn’t feel as if he belonged. When he had met Dante, he had hoped that feeling would have faded. He had hoped, wished, hell, prayed , to have the older man be around, just to have someone to talk to. 

There weren’t many who he could connect with and even fewer that would understand what it felt like to walk the line between man and devil. For most of his life, he thought there was no one else in the world like him. When he finally found someone who was, Dante kept him at arm’s length. He’d felt alone again. 

Then by some twist of fate, Skylar came barreling into his life, Devil Bringer in tow. 

He honestly couldn’t believe it. At times, he’s scared to. 

Was there actually the possibility of a second chance?

Staring out the window, Nero catches a glimpse of their location. Checking his phone, he calculates they're still about two hours out. He smacks the back of his head against the headrest. 

Already, he knew he hated traveling for work.

Another pothole.

Bonk!

“Fen, I swear if you try that again….” 

“I don’t think they would allow dog breath on the bus. Too much fur.”

Blearily, Skylar peeks over her shoulder, taking in her surroundings. She rubs her eyes, before looking at him.

“You would be surprised. Fen’s puppy eyes are super effective.” She mumbles, keeping her voice low to not wake the other passengers. “How long was I asleep?”

“About an hour or so. You haven’t missed anything.”

With a tired hum, Skylar unfolds herself from her seat. Popping her spine, she readjusts herself, crossing one leg over the other. Nero wonders how she hasn’t messed up her back by now. 

“So what, we’ve got about… three hours left?”

“Two hours.”

“Still, two hours too long.” 

He hums in agreement.

“I don’t know how you can stand being stuck cramped in one space for so long. You didn’t have to come with me ya know.”

“I guess I’m just used to it.” Skylar shrugs. “Besides, it’s not like I had anything to do this week and from the sound of it, you’ve never taken a step out of Fortuna your entire life. Wouldn’t want you getting lost now.”

Nero scoffs.

“I would have been fine and you know it.”

“Sure, sure. But, I wasn’t the one who almost got on the wrong bus three stops ago. Just saying.”

“And you ran into a pole. Grow up already.”

“Grow up already.” She parrots back at him. Somehow, she dodges under the swat aimed for her head despite being stuck between him and the window.

“So did this Morrison guy give you any more details about the thing we’re hunting?” Skylar asks, quickly changing the subject to avoid the chance of another attack. “I rather not go in blind.”

Nero shrugs, jostling the headphones draped around his neck.

“Other than it’s lurking around a destroyed apartment complex, nothing much. He promised me he would tell us the details once we arrived.”

“And you trust this guy? Even though he’s giving you bare-bones information.”

Another shrug.

“Apparently he’s one of the best in the business. Dante’s gotten jobs from him for years and he’s been in this business a lot longer than me. Morrison hasn’t steered him wrong yet and he’s promised me I can take any jobs Dante doesn’t want. It’s a win-win I guess.”

“There’s that name again. This Dante guy, who is he? Is he another hunter?”

That was not a can of worms he wanted to open tonight, especially on their first job together. The call from Morrison had already dredged up many conflicted feelings. He desperately wanted to avoid bringing them to light, at least for tonight.

Or maybe forever, who knows?  

“Yeah, something like that.” He doesn’t elaborate, despite Skylar’s evident curiosity. To his relief, she doesn’t press him for any more information. Instead, she rummages through the bag at her feet, pulling out a leather-bound journal. Nero pops on his headphones to avoid any chance of more Dante-related questions.  

Thirty minutes later and Skylar has yet to open the journal in her hands. 

“You still fiddling with that thing?” He asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s so special about some old book?”

Skylar releases a frustrated huff.

“Well, it was locked in Fortuna’s library behind some crazy spellwork for who knows how long. That, and I can’t pry it open.” 

“Why not just tear off the lock?” 

“I actually never thought of that…” She seems conflicted for a moment, a finger twitching as if she’s contemplating the action. “But, that might not be a good idea. Who knows what crazy shit might go off? Whoever made it definitely didn’t want anyone snooping in it.”

Nero clicks his tongue, staring at the book.

“Damn… now you’ve got me curious. Hand it over.”

Skylar passes him the journal, which he flips around to inspect. To his surprise, it hums gently in his hands, the runes dimly glowing with cerulean magic. It almost seems, happy to see him. A book couldn’t have emotions… 

Right?

Without a second thought, Nero takes the lock, snapping it open. The magic gives one final pleased hum, before fading away. Skylar stares at him, her mouth hanging slightly agape. He shoots her a smug grin. 

“You….” She says incredulously, before falling back in her seat. Skylar smacks her head a few times on the headrest. “Oh c’mon, really?”

The action elicits a soft chuckle.

“Don’t see why you were having so much trouble.” He jokes. “Opened just fine for me. Maybe you’re not as good as you think.”

“Har, har.” Another glare at the book. “Damn it, I was trying to crack that thing for weeks. You sure you’ve never seen this thing before?”

He dislikes the nervousness in the question.

“Uh, no. Creepy demonic artifacts are more your thing. I’ll stick to steel and lead, thanks. Why, what is it?”

She’s uncomfortably silent. Nero watches as she tries to find the right words for whatever she’s about to drop on him. 

“Because there’s only one way you could have opened that so easily. Whoever made that seal is directly related to you, as in…”

Her mouth draws into a thin line.

“A parent.” Nero breathes, finishing her thought. Skylar nods. 

He carefully leafs through the journal, taking in the elegant cursive that adorns the pages. Skylar reads over his shoulder, scanning the text as he goes. 

“So if I was able to open it and you weren’t, what does that mean?”

“Well, magic is often passed down from parent to child, so there’s a good chance that us being siblings is out the window.”  

Fuck. A part of him feared something like this was going to happen. If she was right, maybe they weren’t as closely related as he thought. Did that mean that she was going to leave? Was she only staying under the assumption that they may be siblings? Was she going to ditch him?

Was he going to be abandoned again?

Silently, he waits for her answer with bated breath, hoping she doesn’t notice. Nero totally doesn’t jump when she speaks up again.

“Can’t be certain though,” Skylar answers nonchalantly. “Magic also manifests differently depending on the person. Honestly, could mean a whole bunch of things, but nothing that’ll bring us closer to any answers.”

Hope flutters in his chest before he gets the chance to bat it down. 

“Doesn’t change anything though. You’re still stuck with me.”

He doesn’t let the evident relief show on his face. In hopes of moving her attention, he continues to flip through the journal. 

It’s obviously a research journal, meticulously detailing different demons and supernatural phenomena. Nero scans over the entries, in hopes to find any hints about the unknown author. 

“Woah, did someone have a few when they wrote this? That’s some seriously freaky chicken scratch.”

The sharply drawn runes starkly contrast the rest of the writing on the page. Skylar cocks her head inspecting them.

“I don’t know. Reminds me of your shitty handwriting if I’m being honest.”

He swats at her. This time his aim is true and he’s able to smack the side of her head. 

“Inviting you was a mistake.” Nero groans, garnering an offended gasp from Skylar.

“What are you talking about? I’m a joy to travel with!”

“Bet Fenrir would tell me different.”

Skylar opens her mouth to retort, but she suddenly pauses as she rescans the page he’s flipped to.

“Wait… that doesn’t make sense.” She mutters, her eyes flicking over the chaotic scrawl once more. Nero raises an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Skylar looks puzzled. 

“It’s just a bunch of gibberish. None of the words make sense, at least as a sentence.“

“Wait, you can read that? Let me guess, demon shit again, right?”

A sigh.

“For the last time, Infernal . It’s Infernal .”

“Sure, sure. But what do you mean it doesn’t make sense? Surprised demons can even write.”

That fact disturbed him if he was being honest. The idea that many of these creatures had not only the ability to speak their own language but to also write in their own tongue, meant they were capable of complex thought. He imagines there was a question regarding morality in there, but he had no intention of digging for it. It also didn’t help that a part of him almost felt drawn to the jagged scrawl, that restless, fanged part of him pausing for just a moment, curiously scanning over the words. Their meaning edges on the cusp of his grasp, shuffling into something coherent. But that didn’t make sense, he’s never seen something like this before….

“Nero? You alright there?” 

A hand shakes his shoulder.

“Nero?” 

He tears his eyes away from the page, meeting Skylar’s furrowed brow. Nero shakes himself from whatever stupor had taken hold.

“Yeah, no I’m good.” He tries to clear his head. What the hell had that been? “Shit… that was…. I don’t know, almost felt like it almost made sense for a moment.”

Skylar hovers her hand over the open book. With a quick glance around the bus, she softly mutters a hissing incantation, causing the runes to glow softly on the page. Her brow furrows deeper.

“Huh, must be some sort of decryption spell. It probably recognizes you, but not enough to decode it.” Skylar sighs. “Which means that we’re going to have to do this the old fashion way if we want any answers.”

Nero doesn’t complain, snapping the journal closed for now. The last thing he wanted was some demonic bullshit trying to screw with his head. He would let Skylar take a crack at it later. Magic was more her expertise anyways. 

Before they know it, the bus eases to a halt. 

“Alright, end of the line. Everyone off.”

Slipping out of his seat, Nero swings Red Queen’s case over his shoulder. He grabs his duffel from the seat behind him as Skylar secures the bag concealing Ragnarök to her back. Snatching Skylar’s duffel bag as well, he tosses it to her. They follow the small crowd exiting the bus.

Outside, the streets are abandoned, the late night painting the streets in dark hues, only broken by flickering street lights. Nero watches his breath fog at the tip of his nose. Walking down the empty sidewalk, it takes them some time to stumble upon a place to stay. “Vacancy ” glows red on the worn motel sign. 

He leans against the staircase railing next to the front door of the reception office, waiting outside as Skylar secures them a room. Maybe it was a bit of paranoia or the fact that he’s never been this far away from home, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is watching him. His eyes rove the empty parking lot, his search finding nothing out of place. Despite the unease, Nero digs through his jacket pocket, retrieving his phone. Tapping out a message to Kyrie, he makes sure to keep an eye on his surroundings.

Nero : hey made it in one piece. going to meet with morrison soon. everything ok at home?

A reply pings a minute later.

Kyrie : That’s great! Yes, everything’s fine here. Although, I think Carlo misses you a bit. The boys say hello.

Nero : tell them hello from me. guess that means i’ll have to make sure to be back soon.

Kyrie : You better. He’s not the only one who misses you. ♡

Kyrie : Stay safe, okay?

Nero : i’ll try. promise. i’ll text you when the job is done.

Kyrie : Sounds good. I love you, Nero. Tell Skylar hello from me.

Nero : will do. love you too kyrie. good night.

Kyrie : ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Nero : <3

“Aww, look at you, you big softie! You sent her a little heart! That’s so cute!”

Nero quickly snatches his phone as it slips from his hands. He whirls around to face his snooping companion. Skylar stands perched on the second step, a devilish grin painting her face, having obviously been reading over his shoulder. Nero scowls. 

“Fuck! Damn it, Sky! What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?”

She crosses her arms, still wearing that shit-eating grin.

“I don’t remember you telling anything about that. Thought you were supposed to have nerves of steel or something, being a professional devil hunter and all.”

Nero rolls his eyes, earning him a laugh from the younger part demon.

“Everything okay?” She asks. 

“Yeah, before you appeared out of nowhere.” Nero sighs. “Did you at least get us a room?”

“No, I went in there for my health.” She deadpans. “Yes, of course, I got a room! Now if you’re done complaining…” Skylar tosses him a key, spinning its twin on her index finger. She heads up the stairs. “Faster we get this done the less time I’ll have to listen to you lament about how much you miss your sweet little meadowlark.”

“Oh, and you haven’t called Fenrir, like, five times today. Pot meet kettle.” Nero rebukes, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“He gets anxious when I’m away!”

“Yeah, anxious you’re gonna do something stupid!”

They bicker up the stairs, finally arriving at room nineteen. Nero unlocks the front door before roughly pushing it open. The door sticks to the doorframe, creaking at the movement. Flipping the light switch, the ceiling light illuminates a cramped room with two beds, a nightstand, and a cheap-looking television. On the opposite side of the room, Nero can see a door leading to the bathroom. 

Although the room is dated, with its 80’s style bedding and worn carpet, it’s at least clean. 

“I would start getting your gear ready. After I talk with Morrison, he’ll probably want us to meet him somewhere so we can get the details.”

Throwing her bag on the bed farthest from the door, Skylar simply nods before beginning to unpack. Nero raises an eyebrow as she pulls out a stack of hot pink sticky notes. She’s still rummaging through her bag as Nero dials Morrison’s number.

It’s a few rings before….

“Password?”

Nero shakes his head. Always with the password.

“Jackpot.” He replies plainly. 

“Took you long enough. I was starting to wonder if you weren’t going to show.”

“Yeah, well it’s not like I can fly. Apparently, airport security is already tough enough to navigate.”

Morrison chuckles on the other end of the phone.

“Meet me at ‘The Roadhouse’ in twenty minutes. It’s on Terrace Street. Shouldn’t miss it.”

Before Nero can respond, the line goes dead.

“All good?” Skylar asks. The fountain pen in her hand is stained with a red liquid. Thankfully, from the smell of it, it doesn’t seem to be blood. 

Nero shrugs.

“As good as it’s going to be. Morrison wants us to meet him in twenty minutes.”

“Cool, cool.” Skylar idly acknowledges, turning back to her makeshift art project, drawing a new strange assortment of runes. Peering over her shoulder he watches her work.

He finally breaks the silence. “What’s up with the sticky notes?”

Five identical sticky notes line the end table. Skylar waves the last one in the air, trying to get it to dry faster. 

“Quick, portable warding.” She explains as she snags two more, careful not to smear the ink. Nero takes the remaining three and follows her to the door. “As you know, demons like to strike when you’re least aware, so a bit of extra protection never hurts if you’re traveling. And since majority of places aren’t keen on people drawing on the walls….”

Skylar arranges them on the wall, placing two on the door. The scent of blood prickles against his nose as Skylar nicks her thumb against one of her unnaturally sharp canines. She taps it against each piece of paper, muttering something under her breath as she goes. There’s a surge of magic, the runes glowing with a warm light. Skylar gestures proudly at her work.

“Sticky notes.”

It made sense, but there was still one thing bothering him.

“Any reason they’re obnoxiously pink?” He asks.

He receives a pointed stare.

“Because they’re fabulous and they bring me joy.” She deadpans. “What demon would admit they were stopped by a hot pink sticky note?”

Thinking about it for a moment, the more and more absurd the idea grows. Eventually, he shakes his head, trying to hide the fond smirk tugging at his lip. 

“Fair enough.”

Chapter Text

Morrison was right. The Roadhouse was hard to miss. 

Skylar follows Nero into the grungy bar, squinting at the change in lighting. Outside, the red neon sign had almost blinded her. Now, she was struggling to adjust to the dim atmosphere. Cigarette smoke hangs heavily in the air, causing her to scrunch her nose. From the corner of her eye, she sees Nero do the same, cringing at the toxic fumes. 

Sometimes, enhanced senses sucked. 

Passing patrons in varying states of intoxication, Skylar fidgets with the strap holding Ragnarök. Her stomach churns at the acrid smell of booze. She forces herself to keep a steady, confident pace, as it’s impossible to miss the eyes on her back, boring into her as she walks by. It takes all of her self-control not to adjust the bandages on her right arm. Although she knows she’s not in any danger, her fingers tighten around the fabric. 

At least she’s not the only self-conscious one. She watches as Nero’s equally bandaged fingers twitch as if wanting to reach for his hood.

At the bar, Nero scoots out a stool second to last from the end. Being the closest spot to the corner of the room, it was far enough away from prying ears. Following his lead, Skylar sits next to him, idly tapping her fingers on the wooden surface. Various spots of unknown liquids dot the lacquered bar. Skylar avoids guessing what they are. 

The bartender eventually wanders over to them, looking extremely bored by the lack of business. He’s exactly what Skylar would imagine a back alley bartender would look like, gruff, with a sour attitude. 

“Anything to drink?” He grunts, addressing Nero. 

“Nah, I’m fine. Just waiting for someone. Sky, do you want anything?”

“I’m okay.” She answers plainly. 

Shrugging, the bartender wordlessly wanders away. Skylar continues to drum her fingers on the table, trying to ignore the constant stares. Nero leans over, dropping his voice.

“Are you alright? You seem tense.” He asks, looking a little concerned.

Skylar chews the inside of her cheek. She contemplates if she should even say anything. A soft sigh escapes her. 

“I usually tried to stay away from places like this.” She explains. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan of the clientele.”

Nero’s brow furrows as he nods his head in understanding.

“Yeah, I can see the creeps over there staring.” He grumbles, before scanning the room with a tilt of his head. “If it means anything, I bet you could kick every person’s ass in here with one arm tied behind your back. And if you somehow couldn’t, ya got me to back you up.”

That elicits a tiny smile. Letting her mind wander, she can clearly imagine smashing the creep near the jukebox through the table behind her. 

“A bar fight would definitely make things interesting. But we would be wasting our time with these small fry.”

She receives a shrug.

“Eh, I don’t know. It’d be hell of a story. And, it’d check one thing off the bucket list.” Nero jokes. They share a smile before Nero lightly punches her shoulder. The action elicits a soft chuckle. 

They sit in comfortable silence. The clinking of glasses and the mumbles of bets being passed around fills the room. A cue snaps at a billiard ball, a cacophony of chaotic clunking following soon after. Despite the eyes still fixed on her, she feels more at ease with Nero’s sturdy presence beside her. 

Cool night air snakes down her neck. The bell on the door jangles signaling a new soul entering the establishment. A man dressed in a dark dress coat and a fedora strolls in, a cigar hanging from his lips. 

“How are you kid? Been a long time.” He greets sitting down next to Nero.

“I’m alright Morrison. I’m surprised you reached out. Doesn’t Dante usually get first dibs on jobs like these?”

“He would if he was around. Dante’s jumped town for a while. No clue where he’s going or how long he’ll be gone.”

Nero scowls, his brow creasing slightly. Skylar can tell he’s concerned, but she doesn’t know why. She makes a mental note to ask about it later.

“Seems like you have a shadow. Who’s the kid?”

Morrison's attention turns to her, shrewd eyes picking her apart. She stands her ground, doing her best to keep a cool and collected appearance. 

Nero answers for her.

“An associate. Don’t worry, she can handle herself.”

“She better. My reputation depends on how you all perform. I don’t want some greenhorn messing with my operation. And don’t think you’re getting paid extra. Whatever you make you’re gonna have to split between yourselves.”

Skylar finally speaks up.

“Mister Morrison, I’m only here to learn and to help where I can. Money is not a priority here.”

Morrison scoffs.

“Money is always important if you want to survive in this business.”

A part of her disagrees with the man’s statement. While not a proper devil hunter, as someone who has dealt with demons all of her life, knowledge and vigilance were the two commodities that kept her alive. Money meant nothing if you were not alive to spend it.

“I disagree Mister Morrison.” She leans against the bar. “But I don’t think you came all this way to talk philosophy.”

Morrison snorts, chewing thoughtfully on his cigar. He addresses Nero again.

“Where’d you find this kid?”

“Long story.” Nero immediately shifts topics. “But enough chit-chat, what do you have for me?”

Puffing on his cigar, Morrison eventually reaches into his coat, pulling out a beige folder. He slides it over to Nero.

“There’s been some reports about some weird shit going on in a local apartment complex. Place caught fire a few months ago. The city wants to demolish it, but anyone who goes near it goes missing. I was going to call Lady on this one, but she’s already running a job for me. Besides, it’ll be a good test to see if you got what it takes.”

Nero flips through the file, scanning through the information. Another scowl forms on his face.

“No one’s seen this thing? Not one witness?”

Shrugging, Morrison takes a puff of his cigar. 

“Shouldn’t stop ya. Unless, it’s too much for ya. I could always just call Lady and have her….”

Nero raises an eyebrow as if to dare the older man to finish his thought. When he doesn’t, Nero snatches the folder, snapping it shut.

“I’ll call you when the job’s done. I’m still getting the amount we agreed on, correct?”

“You keep up your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine. I always do.”

Nodding, Nero rises from his seat. Skylar follows suit, standing beside him.

“Oh, and kid?”

“Yeah?” They answer simultaneously, both turning to look at Morrison.

Skylar stifles a laugh at Morrison’s annoyed expression. Nero grins smugly.

“Don’t die, alright? Bad for business.” He says. Smoke dances in the air from another puff of his cigar. 

Nero gives the man a two-fingered salute before following behind her to leave the bar. 

Pushing open the door, she sighs in relief as the fresh air purges her nose. While used to prying eyes, the hungry look on many a patron’s face made her nervous. She adjusts the bandages on her forearm, making sure that they’re still in place. After hours of travel, she was looking forward to finally unwrapping it and getting to scratch that itch that’s been bugging her since—

The stench of alcohol assaults her senses. There’s a rustle of cloth, a hand reaching out to snag her wrist. She pulls away before his grimy fingers so much as graze her. Turning to tell him off she—

“Hey angel, why the rush?” The drunk….

Angel.

A strangled yelp. The man is slammed against a nearby wall. Her Devil Bringer wraps around his throat, disguised claws digging into his skin. The sturdy leather glove is the only barrier between her talons and his flesh. 

“Didn’t think I would notice?! Huh?!” She snarls, trying to disguise the slight tremble in her voice. “Can’t help but throw that name around every moment you get! Better step up your game you sack of shit!”

The puppet struggles, its borrowed fingers tearing at her vice grip. She slams it again, rewarding her with a wheeze. Footsteps quicken behind her. 

“Think you can fool me?! Where are the others?! You never send just one! Where are they?!” 

“Sky! Stop! What the hell are you doing?!”

No no no—! Nero! She couldn’t let it get to Nero! It couldn’t know about him! It couldn’t know!

Something forcefully grips her shoulder in an attempt to pry her off. 

“Skylar!” Nero’s voice rumbles in her ear. The demonic undertone catches her off guard. “You’re hurting him!”

The puppet whimpers as if struggling to breathe. Fear drenches the air twisting with the stench of urine. 

That wasn’t right. It didn’t know fear. There was no way….

She hears it…. 

That shouldn’t be….

Rearing back, she tears her arm away as if it had been drenched in holy water. Broken breaths rattle in her chest as the panicked beat of the man’s heart hammers against her ears. The drunk takes her confused state as an opportunity to flee, darting down the street. A shudder runs down her spine. 

She had been wrong. She had almost…!

“Hey, breathe Sky. In and out. There we go…. Easy now.”

Her hands shake without her realizing it, trembling with the rest of her frame. It takes a conscious effort to breathe and she slowly realizes she’s collapsed onto her knees, the cold of the pavement bleeding into her legs. There’s pressure on her shoulders and when she eventually raises her head, she’s met with a worried Nero. He gently squeezes her shoulders.  

“Did he try to hurt you? Do I need to go after him?”

Shaking her head, she tries to focus, his presence helping to ground her. Stuffing the roiling emotions away in the deep dark pit she’s set aside is the only thing she can do. She has a harder time schooling her expression, but she eventually wrestles with it enough to hide most of her earlier distress.

Still, she can’t look at him. Nero takes her silence as an answer.

“Alright. Fine.” He sighs, unhappy to let the subject drop. “I won’t pry. We all have our demons.”

It takes her a moment but….

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” She asks, a hoarse chuckle escaping of its own volition.

She can hear the subtle mirth in his voice. 

“Maybe.”

He offers her his hand, pulling her up, and gives her another scrutinizing glance.

“Are you still good to go? I won’t judge if you sit this one out. First job jitters can be a bitch.“

It’s strange having someone other than Fenrir be concerned for her well-being. She claps her hand over his shoulder to assure him that she’s fine. 

Liar. Something hisses in her mind. Coward.

She doesn’t argue with it.

“If I leave, I’m officially the worst backup ever.” She grins at him, turning to walk down the street. “I would prefer not to have that title.”

Her back turned to him, she takes one final moment to recollect herself. The fabric of Ragnarök’s duffle digs deeper into her palm. 

“Come on.” She calls over her shoulder. “We’ve got bigger, badder demons to hunt.”

Without the buses running, they’re forced to walk to the job site. It wasn’t like they could call a cab for demon hunting. However, as they walk, it gives Skylar some time to look over the contents of Morrison’s file. 

Nero had been right, there wasn’t a lot of information on whatever they were hunting. From what she could gather from the sparse pages, the fire had started in a unit on the third floor, quickly spreading to the adjacent spaces. The majority of the occupants were able to escape the blaze, but there were still five total casualties. One of note was a Dayna Harrell, a twenty-seven-year-old mother, living with her daughter Lila near the origin of the fire. The cause of the blaze was deemed inconclusive, but due to all the disappearances, was never reinvestigated. The daughter had escaped the fire but her mother had not been so fortunate.

Gravel crunches beneath her boots, the dilapidated structure a haunting sight in the pale moonlight. It’s obvious where the fire roared through the building, broken windows and scorched walls painting a path of destruction. Stepping over a melted kiddie car, she’s surprised by the lack of graffiti and garbage. With still many units still intact, it would be the perfect place to squat. Surveying the burnt wreckage she—

Thump… thump… thump…

“Little half-breed, oh little half-breed? We know you are here little one. Don’t you wish to come out and play? We sure do.”

Taking a steady breath she attempts to center herself, looking away from the scorched remains of the orph— apartment complex. She needed to focus. This was not the time for a panic attack. A ways away from the scorched rubble, Skylar releases Ragnarök from his fabric prison, hooking his scabbard onto her back. Her fingers tremble at a swell of emotion which she forcefully stamps back into the pit. 

She needed something to fight, and soon.

Rolling up her right sleeve, she removes the bandages from Devil Bringer, its fiery light illuminates the surrounding area. Behind her, she can hear Nero popping open Red Queen’s case and loading Blue Rose’s cylinder. 

Together they walk the halls of the burnt building. Eerily silent, Skylar glances every now and then at her arm, looking for the telltale sign of a demonic presence. The lack of activity makes her anxious. 

A strange sound causes her to tilt her head.

Was that, chewing?

Her eyes dart around the empty hall. 

Her Devil Bringer lays dormant.

Then why did it sound like it was coming from…?

Besides her, Nero chews a wad of bubblegum. He’s in the middle of blowing a pink bubble when he notices her watching him. Pausing, the bubble pops a moment after. Ignoring her evident confusion, Nero digs through his jacket pocket. In his hand is a rumpled cardboard box, its worn pink packaging holding several sticks of aluminum-wrapped gum. Nero holds it out to her. 

“Want a piece?” He offers, his words muffled by the gum in his mouth.

Silently taking one, she can’t help but be amazed by the man’s collected attitude. Aimlessly wandering the building has been slowly fraying her nerves. There’s a part of her that swears they are being watched, but there has not been any evidence yet to suggest that. 

“Thanks.” She replies, popping the gum in her mouth.

Her eyebrows raise at the overly sugary taste hitting her tongue. While bubblegum was not one of her favorite flavors, it definitely sated her sweet tooth. Gnawing on the gum, Skylar attempts to blow a bubble, snapping it back into her mouth with a satisfying pop .

“Just make sure you don’t choke on it.” Nero chides.

Skylar blows another bubble, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a child.” 

“I don’t know short stuff, you could’ve had me fooled.”

“Who are you calling short?!” Skylar squawks. “I’m like, a few centimeters shorter than you! Max!”  

They make their way to the second floor, hopping over heaps of burnt rubble. Skylar tries the door to the stairwell, only to find it blocked by a collapsed wall. The broken ceiling is the only way to ascend. 

With a running start, Skylar kicks off the adjacent wall, propelling herself upwards. Summoning a burst of magic beneath her feet, she gets enough altitude to allow her to dig her claws into the second-floor wall. Pushing herself off, she flips backward, landing in a crouch. Behind her, she can hear Nero following her path. However, instead of an extra jump, a spectral claw latches onto the floor’s edge. 

Nero lands silently. He brushes some dust off his coat.

Okay, that was pretty cool.

Almost at the end of the second floor’s hall, Skylar can sense Nero’s growing impatience. Occasionally kicking stray debris, he glances at his own Devil Bringer. She sympathizes with his annoyed growl. 

A muffled sob catches her attention.

Holding out her arm, she forces Nero to stop. She can hear the beginnings of a question, but she quickly shushes him. Signaling him to follow, she walks further down the hall. Nero lays a cautious hand on Red Queen’s hilt, now hearing the crying. 

Silence. 

Drawing Ragnarök, Skylar listens intently. The noise from outside is silenced by the dilapidated walls. Creaking, the building shifts from the cold. Spitting out her gum, she tries to stretch her senses outwards and through the halls. There’s a squeak behind them.

Silence.

Red Queen gleams under the light of Nero’s Devil Bringer. Its spectral shine tells their foe is near. Her own arm glows, the sensation skittering up her arm. Tucking it behind her, Skylar tries to meld with the inky backdrop. 

Silence. 

The putrid stench of burning flesh assaults her nose. Almost gagging at the smell, Skylar tries to pinpoint its origin. 

“Ugh, shit, what is that?” Nero coughs. He brings up his arm to cover his nose. 

Skeletal fingers grip his ankle and a surprised yell escapes him. Wooden shards pepper the walls as he is dragged to the floor below. 

“Nero!” Skylar shouts, bolting over to where he had been standing seconds earlier. 

Something grabs the back of her jacket, flinging her through the ceiling. Her back smashes floor after floor, eventually sending her sprawling into an abandoned apartment. 

Silence.

“Nero?” She calls again. Skylar brushes off the debris as she steps back into the hallway. 

Down the hall, she can hear the familiar rev of Red Queen. Her boots echo in the empty space, the chaotic roar growing louder with every step. Skidding to a halt, Skylar kicks open a nearby door.

Silence. 

The apartment is empty. Freezing, Skylar quickly realizes the hallway behind her looks off. The hole that she had busted through was now gone and she is greeted with an endless corridor.

Great….

Slinking down the hall, she tries to find any indication of Nero or the demon. 

Silence.

Alright, plan B. 

Running her Devil Bringer over Ragnarök’s blade, a trail of fire follows behind it. The demonic runes glow molten, Ragnarök ablaze with hellfire. Skylar spins around, the flames burning through the darkness.

If you can’t find the demons, have the demons find you.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” She calls into the darkness.

Silence.

Huh….

Now she just feels stupid. What? Was she going to have to be stuck in some mirror dimension or—

Something giggles next to her ear. 

Ragnarök slices the air behind her. 

“Where is she?” A chilling voice echoes around her.

“Who’s she?” Skylar asks, trying to find the voice’s owner. “You’ve got to be a bit more specific.”

Something chitters on the ceiling. 

“You’re here to take us away from mommy…” Dead eyes stare down at her, attached to a misshapen head and a dislocated jaw. Blackened vertebrae create a long, undulating neck, connected to a malnourished torso. An amalgamation of spider legs and human appendages completes the nightmarish monstrosity.

“…just like before…”

Its breath reeks of rotting flesh.

“We won’t let you.”

The creature leaps down at her. Skylar dives out of the way and swings her sword, the space around her bursting into flame. Hissing, the demon skitters back. It climbs up onto the wall, lunging at her again. In the tight space of the hall, Skylar swipes at the demon with her Devil Bringer. 

It catches fire.

“Now we’re cooking!” She crows. Lining up another strike, the demon jumps back.

Its neck cracks with every movement. It reels back, swiping at her with sharp scythe-like forelegs. Flesh melts off it as Skylar dances around its strikes. 

It freezes. A twitch, its body still smoldering.

With a screech, it disappears.

Silence.

“Hey! What the hell?! We were just getting to the good part.”

The floor rumbles, a cacophony of tapping, clicking legs.

Barreling towards her, an army of spider-legged monstrosities trample over one another. They flood the hallway, surging in unison. 

She cringes.

“Oh boy. That’s not good.”

Positioning Ragnarök behind her, Skylar cleaves the blade forward, a wave of fire tearing a path through the sea of demons. Charging towards the hoard, she hops on the writhing mass of bodies, hacking and slashing. Further and further down the corridor she runs, a pile of scorched bodies in her wake. The walls begin to line with a sticky thread. 

She catches sight of a corpse wound tightly in a silken casket.

Well, at least she’d figured out where the missing people went. 

Grimacing at a lucky blow from one of the spider demons, Skylar thrusts her blade through a nearby demon’s skull. It makes a gross, meaty squelch as she pulls it out, only to stab it into another victim. A glob of web locks her in place, the substance hardening on contact with her leg. 

“Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?” They chant, over and over and over.

One of the creatures tries to take a bite out of her, only to receive a mouthful of Devil Bringer. Smashing through the webbing, she sets the demon on fire and tosses it at another. Tiny legs climb up her boots, crawling upwards. Barely containing a shiver, she stamps her foot, a burst of flame sparking below her heel. 

Gross gross gross gross—!

With every demon she cuts down, a new one seems to take its place. The tight corridor doesn’t give her many options to maneuver. It’s not long before they’re climbing on top of her, digging into her skin. Tearing them off one by one, she trudges forwards. Ragnarök dances around her in an arc, clearing a circular perimeter around her. Skylar raises her head. Despite the smoke and the wretched smell of charred bones, she can feel a draft coming from the end of the hall. 

“You know what happens when you play with fire… right?!”

The demonic wave rears upwards. Screeching and wailing, the nightmarish mass moves to drown her. 

“Let me show you!” Skylar roars back.

Burning away the web-encrusted wall, she kicks off the now exposed surface. Arching her back, Skylar twists over the swarm, bounding with ease over a few stragglers. Now being pursued, Skylar sprints down the hall, throwing bolts of fire behind her to slow the massive tide. 

Faster and faster she runs, knowing the trouble she may face if they were to catch her. She can’t fight them forever, already feeling her magic reserves beginning to wane. The faint whirring of machinery catches her attention. Skylar skids to a halt, sheathing Ragnarök. A black abyss greets her, spider demons still crawling out from it.

Crap, that looks like a long way down.

Without warning, the demonic mass slams into her. Weightless, she tries to grab onto something to try to stop her descent. Teeth latch onto her arm. Snarling, she hurls the beast away. Snapping jaws clack around her, all desperately trying to claim a chunk of her flesh. The engine’s roar grows louder. A demonic screech echoes from below. 

“Alright then…”

Corkscrewing in the air, flames spin around her. The blaze chars anything in striking range. Diving, Skylar tries to accelerate to maximum velocity.

“Going down?”

Soon the surrounding apartment walls transform into an underground tunnel. Angling her body, Skylar deftly weaves past the jagged rocks and silken traps. Bodies splatter behind her, their descent ending abruptly in a gory spectacle. 

“Pack it up freakshow! This is your eviction notice!”

A titanic arachnid-esque devil scuttles below her, its hairy body covered in a mass of webbing and bones. Parts of it are scarred, the human torso atop the monster covered in burns of varying severity. Long, black, silken hair covers its face, but Skylar can hear the snapping of mandibles below it. 

A Jorōgumo, Skylar realizes. 

The Jorōgumo swipes at something nearby, a flicker of blue catching Skylar’s eye. Nero dances out of the way, revving Red Queen’s Exceed only to strike at the skeletal hands. To Skylar’s relief, he seems to be unharmed.

“Hey! Hands to yourself lady!” Nero snarks. Blue Rose’s double shot cracks throughout the cavern.

Alright, now or never.

Angling herself over the Jorōgumo, Skylar leans back, her feet facing the ground. She cocks back her Devil Bringer, the scales catching fire. 

Downwards she soars, a meteor hitting the atmosphere. 

“Touchdown!” She roars. The devil looks up to face her.

Wham!

Chitin shatters under her fist, inky black blood spurting from the impact. The smell of burning hair assaults her, wails of the damned following soon after. Skylar jumps away to avoid the Jorōgumo’s claws, backpedaling until she eventually stops next to Nero. 

“Glad you made it. Thought I lost you there for a second.” Despite his flippant tone, he sounds relieved.

“Aw, were you worried for little ol’ me?” Skylar teases. 

Nero scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Nope. I was fearing for my own well-being. Kyrie would have killed me if you had bit the dust.” 

“Figures.” She laughs with a shake of her head. “Although, we’re not out of the woods yet. Until that Jorōgumo is dead, your head is still on the chopping block.”

“Well, it’s two versus one now. Shouldn’t be that bad.”

A nervous gulp.

“Uh. About that….”

The swarm suddenly floods the cavern, surrounding the Jorōgumo. Nero clicks his tongue.

“Huh, so that’s where they ran off to.”

Propping Red Queen atop his shoulder, he strolls towards the hoard.

“Alright, I’ll take the big one while you deal with the rest of them.”

“Hey!” Skylar protests. “Why do you get to fight the cool spider queen and I get stuck with the grunts?”

Nero shrugs.

“Because I was here first. Oh, and also…”

Eyes glowing with a deadly crimson, Nero summons Yamato. Above him hovers his phantom double, filling the space with a sapphire light.

“…I can do this.”

Grumbling to herself, Skylar turns to the fast-approaching swarm. However, she stops. Spinning around to face the other hunter, she raises her Devil Bringer. With a quick flip of her wrist, she flips him off and walks backward.

Nero returns the crude gesture, refusing to break eye contact with her as he trudges towards the Jorōgumo. The blue specter reflects his hand motion, also flipping her off. It’s only when the enemy is directly on top of them that they actually focus on the battle at hand. 

Together, they push back the hoard, Nero grappling with the Jorōgumo and Skylar fending off waves of lesser demons. Using her magic, she strategically raises piers of flame, clearing a makeshift arena for Nero to utilize. Blue Rose snaps into action every so often, repelling a demon that scuttles too close. Spectral projectiles skewer it, before being lit aflame by Ragnarök. 

Fighting side by side, it’s not long before they clear the lesser demons, Skylar eventually receiving a chance to join Nero in his battle with the Jorōgumo. To her surprise, Nero summons his Devil Trigger once more, only to wave her over.

“Feel like going airborne again?” He calls over the chaos. 

The specter copies his movements as he angles Yamato, the ghostly copy of the blade a perfect launch point. A wild sort of glee buzzes in her veins.

“Oh, hell yes!”

Ducking under another swipe, Skylar sprints toward her hunting companion. Nero adjusts his footing for the sudden change in weight as she balances on the flat of the blade. 

“Three, two, one…!”

The blade swings back. Demonic energy spikes the air.

“Liftoff!” He roars.

The change in momentum sends her racing forwards as Nero flings her into the air. She smashes into the Jorōgumo, Ragnarök piercing through the demon’s chest with a sickening squelch. Skylar yanks the blade out, kicking into a backflip as the demon collapses. She lands gracefully a meter away.

Holy shit, that was awesome!

Flicking ichor off her blade Skylar freezes when a harsh wheeze catches her ear.

“Lila… Lila, where are…?”

The demon cranes her neck, turning her head in a desperate search. Skylar’s thoughts wander back to the file, the name of the little girl who had lost her mother. Her heart drops to her stomach.

Shit…!

Crouching down, Skylar rests a hand on the demon’s shoulder, trying to give her any type of comfort. All this time, the poor woman had still been searching for her child. 

How had she missed that?

Demons came in many shapes and sizes. As such, they were born in many different ways. Some were spawned from the depths of hell, others from the wicked and corrupt souls of the damned. But on rare occasions, sometimes an unfortunate soul was killed in a tragedy, suffering a slow, agonizing demise. Such occurrences rend the heart, twisting them into something beyond recognition.

Sometimes, it took death for those souls to finally find their way home. 

“She’s safe.” Skylar hushes. “I promise you, she’s safe. Please, just rest now.”

The Jorōgumo stares up at her with unseeing eyes, her mandibles clacking with two whispered words.

“Thank you….”

And with one final shuddering breath, the demon falls silent, the cave ringing from the lack of sound. 

“That was her, wasn’t it? That mother in the file?”

Skylar wordlessly nods, removing her hand from the shoulder of the now disintegrating corpse. Nero stands at her side, uncharacteristically silent.

“I just wish we could have done more for her.” She finally says. “If only we could have….”

“I get it. Seriously, I do.”

She’s never heard so much regret from him, his words softly tinged with something she can’t quite make out. Nero doesn’t give her the chance to, turning to exit the lair.

“C’mon. Staying down here won’t do us any good. Besides, the sooner I get this shit off me the better.”

Yet, a question weighs heavy on her tongue, bitter as the sentiments she held for it. She’s probably a fool to ask this now, but she’s never been given the chance. 

“Nero?”

A pause.

“Yeah?” He sounds tired and a bit annoyed. Still, his silence tells that he’s listening. Skylar speaks up before she can change her mind.

“Have you ever wondered if… if something were to push us over the edge, would we end up the same way? Would we become monsters as well?”

Looking down at her Devil Bringer, she watches the warm light pulse beneath her scales. 

“Oh, little angel, look at you with your fury and hate! You never cease to amaze us.”

It takes her a while, but she finally gathers the courage to look up at him. Skylar finds the man tense, his jaw working as he tries to find an answer.

“It’s crossed my mind. But… I don’t know. I try not to think about it.”

Nero’s equally bitter tone hints at the opposite. While she knows he’s given her a somewhat half-assed response, it’s more than she’s ever received on the matter. She sighs. 

“Yeah, probably for the best.”

Rising to her feet, Skylar follows behind him, sparing the one final glance behind her. Small petals of crystallized blood are all that remain. It’s a strange phenomenon, one Skylar had never encountered.

Hopefully, that meant Dayna was in a better place now. 

They walk in silence, the gloomy atmosphere much too depressing after a successful hunt. Knowing she’s to blame for it, Skylar decides it’s time to rectify her mistake. 

She dashes past Nero.

“First one to the top gets dibs on the shower!” She hollers over her shoulder.

“Hey! No fair!” Nero yells from behind.

Skylar bolts to the exit, her clamoring steps echoing through the still cavern. His angry shouts catch her ear as she begins to scale the cavern wall. 

Wiping away the steam fogging up the mirror, Skylar stares at her reflection for a moment before dragging her gaze away. It was strange looking at herself, the demonic appendage connected to her so alien looking, with the scales slowly fading into the pale flesh of her bicep. Sometimes she wondered if someone had swapped it out when she was sleeping, a strange sort of taxidermy. But then she remembers the pain, the blood soaking her arm as scales desperately tried to seal the lacerations and—

She takes a deep breath, counting to ten in her head. Some type of biological reset or something she had found online. Skylar wasn’t sure if it worked but, she was willing to try anything at this point.

“Fear is such a fickle thing… don’t you agree?”

The bathroom plunges into darkness as she hastily flips off the lights. Sleep, she needed to go to sleep. If she didn’t now, she wouldn’t anytime soon. Already her thoughts begin to tangle, spiraling into an uncontrollable descent. 

Creaking open the bathroom door, she sneaks into the dark hotel room. Bare feet pad silently on the rugged carpet. Creeping to the front door, she checks the wards one final time to ensure they’re still in place. Satisfied with her work, she turns around, only to freeze at the shifting of fabric. There’s a low mumble before the room falls quiet again.

Glancing over to Nero, Skylar has to stifle the laughter building in her throat. Damp hair sticking up in various directions, Nero looks as if he had gotten zapped by a Blitz. His limbs tangle in the loose blankets, his right leg sticking partially off the bed. He hugs one of the spare pillows, his arm resting on top of it. 

Although she’s very tempted to snap a picture to send to Kyrie, she doesn’t. He had already allowed her the privacy of her own thoughts. She would give him the same courtesy, especially after gracing her with such trust.

Trust.

Talons bite into her palm and she idly realizes she’s clenching her fists. Skylar relaxes her grip and carefully sits on the edge of her bed, only to bury her head in her hands.  

If he only knew. If he only knew, he would not be so keen on inviting her into his life. 

Every moment she stayed endangered him, her mere presence a threat to all those around her. And yet, here she was, selfishly staying at his side in hopes to fill that gnawing loneliness in her heart. Moving to Fortuna was not to make friends nor to surround herself with people that for some reason seemed to care about her. Her goal had been to disappear from the world. 

How had she failed at such a simple task? 

This was her burden. She had no right to drag anyone else into her mess. Fenrir was already stuck with her, a fact that still weighed heavily on her conscious. 

After all, he was not the one it wanted.

Deciding sleep is a lost cause, Skylar tiptoe’s over to Nero’s discarded duffle, carefully pulling free the journal. Already she feels guilty rummaging through his stuff without his permission. Despite having found the tome, it would be stupid to consider it to be her’s with how it reacted to him. She would borrow it only for the night. If luck was with her, maybe she could do something good for a change and give him some answers. It was the least she could do after all of his kindness. 

Day comes quietly, the hushed roar of cars signaling the arrival of early morning commuters. In the pale light of dawn, Skylar cracks open the mysterious journal, praying to find anything that may speak of some hope of escape. Her own notes sit scattered across the duvet. She carefully uncaps her pen.

There was an old saying, wasn’t there?

“No rest for the wicked.”

Yeah, that sounded about right.

Chapter Text

“Miss Eleison, would you please come to the front? We need your assistance.”

The clinic bustles with activity, new patients being wheeled in and out of the cramped hallways. There was a part of Kyrie that enjoyed the chaos, able to lose herself in the nonstop work of helping with patients and shuttling records and supplies from office to office. This was somewhere she could make an impact and to her, that’s all that mattered.

She pushes through the small crowd gathering in the front lobby. The smell of blood already catches her attention.

A group of four knights stumbles in, each in varying states of injury. A man with a captain’s uniform helps one of his subordinates limp through the door, the wounded knight looking worryingly pale. She hurries forwards alongside a nurse donning a pair of surgical gloves. Just as Kyrie is about to reach out and help the injured man, the captain stops her. 

“Out of the way traitorous witch! You are not wanted here.”

Kyrie freezes at the venomous tone, her body tensing as the captain all but snarls at her. The nurse next to her also shares her look of disbelief. Wracking her brain, Kyrie finally recognizes him as a knight who used to serve under her brother.

“Mister Ricci I—“

“ Captain Ricci!”

Kyrie resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

“ Mister Ricci,” She states again, earning her a deathly glare. “I understand we may have differing philosophies, but this man is injured and needs medical attention. Let us help him.”

“Help him as you helped my general? Bestow on him the same fate?” The captain looms over her, disdain in every word. “No wretch. I will not let you lay a finger on him, not with hands sullied such as yours. I can practically smell that demonic bastard’s filth on you. Pitiful!”

She looks over, hoping to find respite from the nurse next to her. Her heart sinks when she finds the woman missing. Now facing this monster alone, Kyrie readies herself to stand her ground.

“This has nothing to do with my brother nor my relationship with Nero. I am only trying to—“

“We do not require your help whore!” Ricci snaps. “If anything we—!“

“That is enough!” Doctor Spini commands, striding through the chaos. Her sharp emerald eyes challenge the knight’s stare. Kyrie has always respected the authority she seemed to channel, despite being only a few years older. “Captain Ricci, you have no right to verbally abuse my staff. You are to leave my clinic immediately!”

“And you’ll do what outsider? You have no authority over me!”

However, Doctor Spini does not look perturbed. Despite being half his height, defiance settles over her petite frame as she speaks. Kyrie finally notices the nurse from earlier standing next to her, staring daggers at Ricci. 

“No, but as one of the few medical facilities on this godforsaken island, I imagine your superiors would not be pleased with any conflict, especially with the recent attacks. Doctors are in high demand. I can not say the same for captains.”

Quietly, Ricci contemplates her words, the vicious sneer marring his features growing with every passing moment. Eventually, he glares at her before he passes the injured knight to the waiting nurse. He turns to walk out the door, but as he passes Kyrie, he slows. 

“Your brother would be ashamed of you, sharing a bed with that monster.” He hisses under his breath. Her blood runs cold. She is not sure if it's from the venom of his words or the seed of doubt he had freshly planted.

It’s almost two years after Credo’s death, almost two years of trying to come to terms that her noble and brave older brother was not part of her life anymore. Every time she closes her eyes she could still see his face and feel his steady presence. A protector, a friend. What would he think of her now, turning her back on an order he had devoted himself to? An order that he gave up his humanity to serve. 

“Out!” Doctor Spini’s voice cracks next to her ear. 

Kyrie glances at Ricci and for a moment, his sneer twitches into a vicious smile. He knows his insults had found their mark. Without another word, he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The surrounding staff descends upon the injured knights, the clinic now free of Ricci’s toxicity.

“Kyrie, are you alright?”

Kyrie schools her expression, trying to ignore the echoing doubts within her. She meets the doctor’s gaze, taking strength from the gentle concern on her face.

“I’m fine Doctor Spini. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Doctor Spini shakes her head, her expression further souring.

“Those idiots. Can they be any more blind? The whole lot of them can go burn in hell!”

Kyrie wordlessly agrees, letting her rant. While she did not like to speak ill of others, Kyrie could not help but share her sentiments. Doctor Spini shakes her in resignation, huffing a sigh. 

“Mrs. Elliott is waiting for you in room three. I think it would be a good change of pace for you, especially after all of that.” Turning to her, the doctor gives her an earnest look. “If anyone gives you any more trouble, please let me know immediately. You have been a great help here Kyrie, I would never forgive those bastards if they chased you away.” 

The doctor pats her on the shoulder and hands her a clipboard. 

“Don’t worry if you're a bit late reporting in. We’ve got everything covered up here. Besides, the poor woman has a bad hip. That’s ‘ought to slow you down, so make sure you take your time .” The doctor remarks, giving Kyrie a meaningful stare. Concern still sits heavily in her voice. With one final nod, she strides into the chaos, a young tech rushing up to her with a clipboard. 

Taking a deep breath Kyrie tries to calm her racing heart. She almost jumps at the voice behind her. 

“Uh, excuse me miss?”

She turns to come face to face with an elderly gentleman, hunched over a walking stick. To her surprise, he’s deathly pale, his skin sagging, adding to his wrinkled appearance. He looks as if death warmed over him, the slight twitch in one of his bloodshot eyes very concerning. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a sense of unease as she looks at it. It’s probably her nerves still acting up from her encounter with the captain. Kyrie tries to focus on his other eye. 

“Oh hello, sir. Can I help you with something?”

The man smiles a bit lopsidedly as if he had a hard time moving the other side of his face. 

A stroke?  

For a moment, Ricci’s barbed words are ignored, shoved away by her fear for the older man’s wellbeing. 

“I was wondering if you could direct me in the way of the check-in. Another young lady showed me earlier but, I must admit, I have forgotten. My memory is not like it used to be.”

“Of course.” Kyrie nods. “Down that hall and to you’re left. You won’t miss it. Do you need any assistance?”

If the man did have a stroke, he needed medical attention immediately. She sees one of the nurses from earlier and is about to wave him over when….

“No thank you, I should manage just fine.” The man suddenly interrupts her train of thought. “I appreciate the offer, it is very kind of you. Hopefully, our paths will cross again.”

Before she can protest, the man is already gone, moving down the hall at a surprisingly fast pace. 

“Sir, I don’t think—!“

She blinks, trying to process how such an elderly man had disappeared. Another quick search of the hallway, and indeed, he’s gone. 

How had he…?

Looking at a nearby clock, she curses herself for her tardiness. As much as she disliked abandoning her search, she knew she couldn’t leave Mrs. Elliott waiting much longer. Kyrie quickly informs a nearby staff member about the man and his symptoms before rushing to room three. Knocking on the door, she hears Mrs. Elliott’s voice on the other side. Kyrie opens it and waves, wheeling in a small medical cart 

“Hello Mrs. Elliott, are you finding everything alright?”

Kyrie is met with kind grey eyes and a warm smile. Mrs. Elliott sits on the examination table, a paragon of grace, despite her drab surroundings. Her clothes and greying auburn hair are immaculate, just as she remembered from when she was a little girl. 

“I am dear, thank you. Although, if I may ask, what was all the commotion? That sounded like a lot of shouting.”

Kyrie waves her hand.

“Oh, it was nothing. Just a patient having a rough time.”

Quickly, she takes the woman’s vitals, unwrapping the blood pressure cuff to attach it to her arm. She only realizes her hands are shaking when Mrs. Elliott gently clasps her wrist.

“That doesn’t seem like it was nothing. I may be old, but I’m neither deaf nor blind.”

Mrs. Elliott scoots over on the examination table and gestures for her to sit. 

“You seem like you could use some rest. Sit with me, would you?”

Not wanting to be rude, Kyrie does so, the sanitary paper crinkling loudly as she balances on the edge of the table. 

“It was one of those fools from the Order, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Elliott asks, but from her tone, she already knows the answer.

“A knight. Ricci. He used to serve under my brother.”

“What load of crock was it this time?”

Kyrie says nothing, suddenly not trusting her voice. Staring down at her feet, Kyrie only raises her head, when Mrs. Elliott gently takes her hand. 

“Kyrie, dear, you’re safe here. If you wish to speak, speak, but only if you wish to. From what I can tell it has shaken you.” Kyrie is about to retort but Mrs. Elliott cuts her off. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Even the strongest of us can crack if enough pressure is exerted. But, that’s not all, is it?.”

Kyrie twirls a loose lock of her hair between her fingers. If she were to choose anyone who was going to listen to her plight, a family friend would be a likely choice.  

“Do you think my brother would be disappointed in me? Ashamed of who I am?”

Mrs. Elliott's eyes widen at her question, disgust mixes with her dismay.

“Nonsense! If anything, he would be indescribably proud!” She tells her in earnest. “You have done so much for Fortuna and her people. How could anyone be disappointed in such an act?”

Kyrie’s mouth thins into a line.

“I’ve turned my back on an order that my family loved so deeply. I am aware of its corruption, but, I feel as if I’m sullying their memory by completely turning my back on my faith. And as much as it pains me, I think there is a part of me that misses it. But after everything that happened, how can I still believe? After everyone we lost?”

She’s met with a sad smile. 

“I’ve lived here my entire life my dear. I have seen many a good day and many a terrible. But, while some days may seem like the end, we always have seemed to pull through. Hope is not a bad thing. If anything, it gives us the courage to stand up for what we believe in.”

“But faith is what drove Sanctus to do such horrible things.” 

“From what I’ve heard it was also his desire for power that also drove him.” The older woman points out. “Wicked men unfortunately do wicked things. There is good and evil in everything and he was the worst of all of us. But, my faith grants me some peace, knowing who we lost are in a better place. What am I to lose with a little faith? If I’m wrong, I will never know.”

Mrs. Elliott gently squeezes her hand.

“This is not to push you towards faith, nor is it to push you away from it. That is your choice to make.” Mrs. Elliott assures. “Just, know you have friends here Kyrie. People who believe in you and Nero. Remember that it is not a weakness to rely on them.”

And against her will, tears slip down her cheek, dripping down onto the waxy paper. Kyrie can’t stop their descent as the older woman pulls her into a hug.

His feet carry him on their own accord. A low-level nest exterminated this morning, he had the rest of the day free for whatever he wanted to do. He could have done anything with his time, especially with Red Queen gunked up with demon guts. Weaving through the cemetery, clutching a scraggly bouquet of white lilies, Nero wonders why he tortures himself in such a way.

Not that he didn’t deserve it. 

Plucking a few stray weeds, he wipes away any stray dust that may have accumulated after his last visit. Carefully, he removes the dead flowers from Kyrie and his last visit, replacing them on the gravestone. Standing there for a moment, Nero wonders what to say.

“Hey, Credo.” He starts, his words already faltering on his tongue. Nonetheless, he stubbornly continues. “I’m doing alright, just working, keeping busy, ya know. Kyrie’s doing good. She actually got hired on with the clinic she was volunteering at not too long ago. Seems they really like her there, but I mean, how can you not like Kyrie? She uh…”

Nero sighs, his head dipping on its own accord. 

“She misses you. She doesn’t admit it a lot, I think it hurts too much. She’s trying to stay strong, but… just watch over her, please? She still needs you. I…”

"I still do hangs" unspoken in the air.

“Can’t help but feel like an ass when I think about how much I miss you. I can only imagine what she’s going through. It, it shouldn’t have been you. You were the best of us Credo it…”

Nero swallows thickly, pushing down a swell of emotion.

“I’m sorry I failed you.” His hoarse apology whispers in the quiet afternoon. “After everything you did for me, saving you should have been the least I could do. I wasn’t worth it. I’m not worth it. You’d probably still be here if I hadn’t fucked up so badly.”

The nightmares had been worse lately. Haunted by his failure to save his family, to protect his home, it was not a surprise his dreams reflected such guilt. But as of late, they had begun to twist into something new and equally disturbing. 

Sometimes it was Credo or one of the boys being murdered by Sanctus, falling as he struggled against the Savior’s grip. 

Sometimes it was Skylar skewered under Agnus’ blade, her pained screams echoing in the desolate chamber. 

At the worst of times, Kyrie lay dead in his arms, a look of horror marring her face, her chest ripped open. A few yards away, her heart is smashed to a pulp. 

He startles as his Devil Bringer suddenly glows brighter, the air chilling around him. Nero quickly surveys the graveyard, hovering his hand over Red Queen’s hilt. 

Strangely, he didn’t sense any demons nearby. He glances down at the demonic arm again. 

What the…?

Soft golds run through the usually blue light of his forearm. It crawls up his wrist, bleeding through to his palm. Looking around again, there was still no sign of anything remotely demonic.

What, was he being haunted now?

Despite his work, Nero wasn’t the superstitious type. Yeah, he worked with the supernatural every day, slaying demons, and dealing with magic, but ghosts? Admittedly, he wasn’t sure if there was an afterlife. There were times that he pondered about it, sure, but it was something he tried to avoid thinking about. 

If he was really part demon, what did that mean for his ticket into heaven, if there even was one? Was he already damned to begin with?

He glances down at his arm again, still glowing with a soft golden light. Its warm glow reminds him of his missing hunting partner, who he hasn’t seen since the spider queen hunt. There was only one ghost that would even bother haunting him. One that he would give anything to hear from right now.

Well, can’t do any harm, right?

“I, uh, need some advice,” Nero states awkwardly, looking around the empty cemetery. “If you’re up for it.”

The silence that follows is expected. Still, Nero takes his chance.

“A few months back, I found someone, someone like me. It wasn’t Dante but some chick that’d been living out in the forest. You know the one that you always used to tell Kyrie and I had a shit ton of demons when we were younger?”

It feels colder all of a sudden. Nero rubs the back of his neck, surprised, if not a tad annoyed.

This all has to be in his imagination, right?

But as he sits there, cross-legged on the grass, he lets himself imagine for a moment that Credo was listening, that the man’s spirit was by his side. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know you weren’t lying. At least now I do, but back then I thought you were full of shit.”

Nero shakes his head.

“So yeah, this chick, looks just like me, even down to the arm. And well…”

He tells his story, plucking at the grass to keep his hands busy. Despite being alone, for a moment, he feels like he did when he was a teenager, venting to Credo on an especially bad day. That had been more often than he would have liked, but as much as he tried to ignore the scathing insults, there were some days he just couldn’t. There were some days that he just wanted to curl up and disappear from prying eyes and vicious words.

But Credo, the voice of logic, always found a way to make him feel better.

“There’s something wrong, I know there is. She’s been distant lately and she keeps brushing it off as if nothing is going on. Hell, she’s been radio silent for almost two weeks now and I have no idea why. It’s frustrating. Every time I try to reach out, she pushes me away. Kyrie says that she just might need some space, but I don’t know. I’ve just got a gut feeling that something’s up.”

By the time he’s finished his tale, there’s a bald patch of grass beside him. 

Oops….

“Am I overreacting? I mean I know I’m not always the best with all the touchy-feely shit. Kyrie has always been the best with that sort of stuff. But… I’m scared I’ll push her away, that she’ll disappear. I don’t want to lose any more people. I mean, haven’t I already lost enough?”

The ocean fog swirls lazily in the air, dancing to the tune of a robin nesting in the nearby trees. Far off in the distance, the trees loom, standing tall and proud. 

It was stupid, giving himself so much false hope. 

Yet, for some reason, a memory from years surfaces, back from when he was training under Credo as a squire. He had been picking himself off the dirt after a group of older squires had ganged up and beaten him to the ground. Every blow had fueled his burning rage, as Nero knew he could wipe the floor with every one of them. But if he had fought back, he would be kicked out of the training program. He was already on thin ice, and those assholes knew it. Credo walking over to him had broken him from his vengeful thoughts. 

Nero remembers how ashamed he had felt, knowing Credo had seen him beaten in such a way. It’s why he had been so surprised when the knight had offered him his hand. A firm grip had lifted him off the ground, steadying him as he stood. 

And then, the man pulled him into a hug.

Kyrie made it to give him a hug or kiss every time they parted from the house, no matter if they had argued or were angry with one another. He was still getting used to the constant signs of affection, but as with everything with Kyrie, she made it feel so right. 

But an angry, lost, fearful version of himself receiving a hug from imperturbable Credo?

It was funny looking back, what five years could change. 

“Yeah, I think I get it. Doesn’t make things any easier, but I get it.” Nero chuckles softly.

Standing, Nero brushes himself off. Loose blades of grass tumble from his lap. 

“I’ll be back again later this month. Maybe I can convince the whole family to come next time. You’d love the boys.”

He’s about to walk away, but he pauses and allows himself one final look back.

“Thanks again Credo, for everything.”

Nero turns, walking away, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The chill at his back has lessened, instead replaced with a warm breeze.

Huh, maybe the sun’s finally come out.

His back turned, Nero misses the figure sitting peacefully on the stone’s sturdy edge… 

…and the soft smile on his lips. 

Chapter Text

Bong!

One quiet Saturday morning, that was all he asked for. 

Bong!

Who was he kidding? Things were never that simple. Life really must have a fun time messing with him. Or maybe he pissed off someone in a past life. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

Bong!

The cathedral’s bell fades with every step toward Mitis Forest. It had been months since Nero’s heard its toll, months since its warning rang through the city, telling citizens to hide in their homes. His mind wanders to his own home, Kyrie and the boys tucked away behind a layer of wards and locked doors. Part of him wants to be there with them, to make sure nothing happens to them, but he knew he couldn’t. Kyrie was right, he had a duty, no matter what the townspeople may think of him. Credo would have told him the same thing. 

It didn’t mean he had to like it. 

At least there was an extra layer of protection now in the form of a familiar lupine demon. Nero had sensed the breach in the veil and its demonic invaders before the alarms had sounded. It was to his surprise to find Fenrir scratching at his front door. He had no idea why the Garmr was at his house, but any questions were quickly abandoned when the demon padded inside, only to promptly curl up next to Julio who was sitting at the coffee table. Nero stared at the wolf, who only blinked at him in response. 

Never in his life would he have imagined he would be trusting his family’s safety with a demon. 

The cacophony of carnage grows closer, already having passed some knights picking off some of the smaller game. A familiar shout grabs his attention, a fiery flare of demonic energy following soon after. Leave it to Skylar to already be knee-deep in a small-scale demonic invasion. Red Queen preemptively roars to life in his hand. A pair of knights stumble past him, attempting to escape the chaos behind them. Nero grimaces at the wounded recruit leaning on his comrade. The red staining through his uniform doesn’t look promising. 

A blur of movement drags his attention back to the battle at hand. Sure enough, he’s met with the sight of Skylar leaping off the back of a Behemoth, locked in combat with a Fury. A Behemoth bucks wildly, its chains shaking and clattering with every thrashing step. Skylar steps deftly around it using it to clear the rabble swiftly closing in. An Assault creeps too close, only to be smashed flat, leaving only a bloody pulp. 

Nero bats away a demon invading his space. The trill of the Exceed catches the younger devil hunter’s attention.

“Ah! There you are!” Skylar yells over to him. An unlucky Hell Caina squirms under her blade. She uses her free hand to wave. The bandage wrapped around it is torn and burnt, revealing some of the glowing scales beneath. “I was wondering when you would show up. As you can see, the party’s already in full swing.”

The Hell Caina screeches one final time. Ragnarök is yanked from the demon’s corpse.

Clang!

Skylar shoves the Fury off, Ragnarök dancing in a wide arc. A cascade of fading embers originates from the blade and the impact cleaves the demon in half. Skylar lets out a huff, flicking the blood off of her sword. She spares Nero a glance.

“We’ve got a rowdy bunch this time. That was the second Fury that came through. And don’t get me started on the big guy over there. He’s been driving me insane for the last fifteen minutes.”

The Behemoth in question thrashes again, a muffled roar escaping its bound jaw. It smashes its chin against the ground in an attempt to free itself. Demons stalk forward, wary of the bound monstrosity. They hiss in displeasure. 

“Then let’s get to it.” He says, idly twirling Blue Rose. “Kyrie’s making raviolis tonight and there’s no way in hell I’m missing that.”

Two rounds bury into a Chaos, breaking off one of its saw-like spines. Nero sidesteps its whirling charge, trading spots with Skylar to allow her to take a hefty swing. 

“You lucky duck!” She shouts over her shoulder. The Chaos stumbles back, Red Queen shatters its deadly scales. Ragnarök lops off its tail, Blue Rose finishing the job. 

“You know, you’re invited to join us for dinner, right? Kyrie’s been wondering when you’d come over again. It’d be good to finally catch up.”

The Behemoth charges towards them, taking out a Riot that was preparing to pounce. Together, they vault over the creature, Nero making sure to rev Red Queen with a flourish. Landing, a squadron of Marionettes shambles towards them. 

“Wait, really?” Skylar asks as she grabs one of the demons by the neck with her Devil Bringer. The wooden demon lights up like tinder, only to be hurled into the advancing group. The bandage flutters away uselessly, nothing more than strips of burnt cloth.

“Why not?” He shrugs. “The resident mutt’s already there and Kyrie cooks enough for a small army. Call it a family dinner.”

Nero hadn’t expected the woman to freeze in the very active combat zone. She mouths a silent word, disbelief etching into her features. Nero’s unsure if he should be concerned.

“You okay there Sky?”

Clang!

Red Queen deflects a swipe from a Marionette previously aimed at Skylar’s head. Waving his free hand in front of her face, Nero snaps his fingers.

“Hello?! Earth to Sky! Kinda in the middle of a demonic invasion here.”

The demon loses its leg, the wooden flesh splintering. Skylar promptly lights it on fire, Nero following her prior example by throwing it at a passing Assault. The demon hisses, evidently confused by the sudden flaming projectile. Clearing her throat, Skylar blinks a few times. She readjusts Ragnarök in her grip.

“Oh, uh, yeah yeah, I’m good. I’m good.” With a shake of her head, her eyes glitter with something he’s never seen before. She turns to him, the smile on her face warm and genuine. 

“I’ll be there. Seriously, thank you Nero.”

He nods, returning the smile. Family was a strange concept for both of them. It would take time to finally settle into the idea that there were others out there to support them. Even after knowing Kyrie for years, it was still something he struggled with. Yet despite that, a part of him knew he would get there someday. 

“Now, c’mon Red, get your head in the game.” He tugs on Yamato, the Devil Arm responding to his call with an icy melody. “Don’t want to be dragging your sorry ass back home.”

Skylar scoffs, sparks jumping from her Devil Bringer. Nero can feel the air simmer with heat.

“Not in a million years Spooky. You just need to focus on keeping up.” 

“We’ll see about that.”

“Sky! Catch!”

Blue Rose spins in the air, deftly caught by Skylar’s left hand. Adjusting the grip, she lines up the shot, a Scarecrow about a meter away. Finger over the trigger and…

Bang!

…She misses. 

Bang!

Nero pauses, staring wide-eyed at the woman’s horrible aim. No way she would—

Bang!

Ragnarök eventually slices the demon in half. Blue Rose is shoved back into his hands with a pointed glare. 

“Not a word!”

Nero chokes back a laugh. 

A fire bolt whizzes past his head almost singing his hair. 

“Double down!”

Red Queen skewers the Behemoth’s skull, blood violently spurting from the wound. The demon lets out one final haunting keen before lifelessly slumping onto the ground. Nero lets out a tired sigh, tugging the blade from the gory mess. His boots hit the crimson-stained grass, making a strange squelching sound. 

Ew….

Looking around, he’s relieved to see that the demons are no longer pouring out of the breach. A few stragglers mull about, sifting through the carrion, but it seems the majority of the hoard has been culled. His exhausted body is thankful for that fact. Fighting the underworld’s ugliest for multiple hours was a lot, even for him. But now with the majority of the demons slain, it was only a matter of time before whatever breach opened up sealed. 

Now, all he had to do was find Sky and….

Something screeches a few yards away. A rotting Assault hisses and spits at him, its decomposing maw flaking with dead skin. Bulbous eyes pepper its body, all turned to stare at him.

That’s… unusual.  

Drawing Red Queen, he stalks towards the creature. To his surprise, it flees.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

His Devil Bringer flares to life. Nero snags the demon's tail with the spectral claw. The tail crumbles in his grasp, a mess of decomposing flesh. Tossing it aside in disgust, Nero pursues the demon.

It’s quick for a zombie. Nero has a hard time following it amongst the mass of deteriorating demon carcasses, almost tripping on a Riot’s tail. The stench doesn’t help either. 

Someone screams.

He immediately abandons his chase. Nero bolts toward the source. His blood freezes.

Skylar looms over a young woman, the tip of her sword pressed against the woman’s throat. Wisps of flame hover behind her, ready to rain hell from above. Bloody and bruised, the woman’s back presses against a nearby tree. Her arm twists at a strange angle as she clutches it to her chest in a protective manner. A look of horror twists her delicate features. 

“Sky… what the hell ?!”

They both jolt in surprise. The distressed woman flicks her gaze towards him so as not to accidentally rend her own throat. 

“Please! You have to help me! I- I don’t know what— She just attacked me and—!“

“ Shut up! ” Skylar hisses. Her Devil Bringer flares. “Shut up! Don’t talk to him! Don’t look at him!”

The woman lets out a dry sob. 

Skylar grinds her teeth, the muscles of her neck taut as the rest of her. Her magic is a whirlwind of chaos like he has never felt before. Nonetheless, he picks out one emotion in particular amongst the storm.

Fear.

Skylar’s eyes never leave the woman. Her Devil Bringer trembles ever so slightly. Memories of the bar ghost his mind and he stares at the woman he’s just started to trust warily. 

Had he been wrong all this time? Had he invited a monster into his home?

“Skylar, let her go!” He commands. 

A claw twitches.

“You need to go right now.” Her voice wavers. “I know what this must look like but you have to trust me.”

“Please!” The woman begs. “Plea—“

“And why should I Skylar?! So you can lie to me again? What is wrong with you?! What kind of fucking monster does—?!“

“Nero! Please!” Skylar interrupts him, desperation lacing every inflection. “Just go before—!“ 

Nero snaps his arms out, catching himself as he is violently shoved to the ground. Something smashes into his side, sending him tumbling meters away. His rib cage strains with every breath mimicking being skwered by a rusty nail. Groaning, he pushes himself up. He searches for the bastard that—

Blood slicks her abdomen, pooling onto well-worn combat boots. It mixes with a toxic green fluid dripping with it.  Hands shake as they strain to free their host from the wicked stinger piercing her gut. Skylar coughs, red dribbling from her mouth. Her eyes stayed glued to the nightmarish amalgamation of lion, man, and scorpion before her. 

The stinger is ripped out. Skylar collapses without a sound. 

Nero stares, trapped in a mixture of horror and disbelief. When had— what…?

A crooning voice tears him from his thoughts.

“Oh, little angel, as foolish as ever. Did you really think escaping us would be so easy? After all of these years, we thought you would have known better.”

The woman from earlier strolls up to her, observing Skylar with cold, calculating eyes. Twisted fingers yank at Skylar’s hair, dragging the devil hunter’s head from the ground. A strained whine cuts through the air as the motion jostles her.

“It’s been a while little one. Why do you keep avoiding us? Aren’t we supposed to be family?” It tuts, tipping its head in question. It clicks its tongue, sounding nonchalant. “No matter. We forgive you, little angel. Besides, you always make our hunts so fun.”

Skylar’s magic flutters like a bird trapped in a cage. Amongst the blood, terror pricks the air.

“Get away from her!” Nero yells, Red Queen gripped tightly in his hand. Eyes turn to him, observing him in the same calculating manner. The laugh that follows sends a chill down his spine. 

“This is the creature you took a blow for? Another half-breed? Predictable, especially when he reeks of traitor’s blood. ”

Skylar’s head smacks dully against the earth. She doesn’t move.

“Nero, was it…? What an interesting name! Quite an ironic one at that.”

The beast lumbers forwards, every step rumbling with deadly intent. From the corner of his eye, Nero watches as some of the nearby corpses twitch to life, rising from their deathly slumber. A Frost gurgles a few steps away, its torn-out throat dripping with ichor. Nero takes a cautious step back as the undead hoard lays eyes on him. 

“Wouldn’t consider this a fair fight. All of you versus me? You’re already setting yourself up for an ass-kicking.” He taunts, trying to keep his voice steady. The hours of ceaseless battle are starting to sink in. 

“Fair?” The demons around him scoff. “Oh little half-breed, this was never supposed to be fair.”

They descend upon him, a hoard of gnashing teeth and claws. Red Queen meets them, her razor-edge tearing through the undead demons. Ducking under a decaying Hell Caina’s swing, Nero tries to keep an eye on the still unmoving form of Skylar a few meters away. Blue Rose takes down a demon creeping too close to her.

Thunk!

He gasps, a burst of pain erupting in his shoulder. Blood drips from the transparent quill lodged there, barely visible under the tree’s canopy. Attempting to tear it out, Nero fails to notice his enemy’s silent approach. The venomous demon whirls on him, its stinger grazing his side. Red Queen lashes out in defiance, but he can already feel the venom seeping into his veins. Nero staggers, black spots dancing in his vision. 

“How disappointing… pathetic really.”

“Don’t… speak so soon…!” He grits out. Yamato tugs at the edge of his mind, his Devil Trigger curling around him, a silent sentry ready to heed his command. And oh boy, does he have orders. 

His movements are quick, without their usual flair. The extra set of hands are useful, the ghost blocking some attacks aimed at his back. The venom has waned, no longer a source of deep bound agony. Nonetheless, every once in a while, one of the demon scum would land a lucky hit. 

Raising Yamato, he prepares to block the—

The Frost screeches, quickly engulfed in flames only to be silenced as its head is torn from its body. Skylar stands hunched over, her chest heaving with every strained breath. Scales pepper the base of her neck, her right pupil drawn into a reptilian slit. 

“ Fuck off Legion! ” She roars to his surprise. “Your fight is with me !”

The demon tuts, or well, the demons tut, their voices resonating around him.

“We haven’t forgotten about you angel. We could never forget our favorite plaything. Yet, it’s not every day to find the blood of the Dark Slayer running through another’s veins. That blade is unmistakable.”

Dark Slayer? What’s that supposed to mean?

Motes of flame flicker around them, as if trying to create a barrier between them and the hoard. Skylar hefts Ragnarök a little higher.

“Aim for the head.” She rasps without looking at him. Her eyes dart across the landscape, finally landing on something behind the tree line. Nero follows her gaze and is surprised to see the rotting Assault creeping on the outskirts. Tensing, she zeros in on her target. 

Nero flanks behind her as she dashes through the hoard. The Assault skitters away, dipping and diving around its allies. All of its twitching eyes stayed glued to the two of them, watching as they cut their way through the waves of demons. Nero finally yanks out the barb in his shoulder, planting it in a nearby demon’s head. He bites back a yell as another lodges into his calf. A flickering wall of flame gives him only moments of reprieve. 

Clank!

The amalgamation crunches down on the spectral blade of his Devil Trigger. Distracted, it misses Skylar as she dashes behind it, promptly lopping off the wicked tail. It screeches in dismay allowing him to shove the beast off of him. 

The air ripples, signifying the presence of the breach. 

Skylar tackles the zombified Assault, wrestling with the monster. Ragnarök is knocked from her hand, sliding out of reach. Unperturbed, Skylar snatches something from an inner pocket in her jacket. Clutching it in her Devil Bringer, she shoves it into the Assault’s mouth. With a strained yell, she hurls it back through the portal. 

The hoard closes in.

Yamato’s icy presence creeps up his arm. For a moment, time seems to shudder. Nero lets the sword guide his movements, working alongside his instincts. He charges forward, the blade cutting through the shimmering air. Skidding to a halt, he summons Yamato’s saya, sheathing the katana in one fluid motion. 

Shink…!

The breach rends, abruptly sealing off the underworld. The venomous demon collapses, a puppet cut from its strings. Demons crumble around them, the grove going silent for the first time in hours. Yamato disappears in a flurry of electric sparks, leaving him drained. He grunts as he finally pulls out the spine embedded in his calf. With a shaking breath, he finds Skylar on the ground a few meters away.

“Nero! Run!”

“Credo!”

Dragging himself up, he staggers towards her. Every step feeds the dread pooling in his gut. 

Not again! Not again!

His head still pounding with a residual burn, he forces his limbs to obey him, stumbling towards—

Chapter Text

Smoke curls in the air, the screech of the fire alarms screaming through the building. It mixes with the terrified screams ringing from the surrounding rooms. She’s frozen under the bed despite the flames licking the walls. Voices echo from all around her. Clutching her head, she squeezes her eyes shut in hopes that this was all a nightmare.

Monsters weren’t real. This all had to be a nightmare!

She hears the matron scream in the other room. A baby wails before falling abruptly silent.

Thump…!

Thump…!

Thump…!

Holding her breath, she curls herself tighter to try and stop herself from trembling. She spies Eleanor on the other side of the room, huddled under the other bed. Her strangled breaths quicken as the monster draws closer. The bed springs creak above her, struggling under an unseen weight.

”Oh, what a lovely scent.” Something hisses from above. The bed shifts again. “Abominable in every way and yet… so enticing. The Dark Knight’s blood flows strongly in you.”

Her world spins as she’s thrown across the room. The bed frame crashes somewhere nearby eliciting a frightened cryfrom Eleanor. A monster looms over her, a mess of twitching eyes and burnt flesh. 

”There you are.”

Her mind freezes, one word screeching within it.

Run.

Ducking under the creature’s swipe, she dashes into the burning hallway. The click-clacking of claws chases close behind her. Black spots dance in her vision as she’s smashed into a dilapidated wall. Her cries are strangled by the vice grip around her throat.

”How perfect! The spawn looks just like its father. The master will surely be pleased!”

Struggling to no avail, the flames draw ever closer. Tear-stained cheeks are dried by the scorching heat, the smoke filling the hall at an alarming rate. Yet, the smoke is the least of her worries.

Crack!

Her world tilts as she’s suddenly let go, her body weightless as she falls through the floor. The monster screeches and other screeches respond in turn, echoing from above. A shuddering wheeze hisses from her lungs as she impacts with—

Soot-stained fingers claw at the wooden spike protruding from her gut. Panic races alongside the pain pulsing through her veins as she writhes, desperately trying to get free. The flames grow closer, licking at her clothes, and the ceiling above her whines in protest. Yelling for help, the words catch in her throat, anything escaping drowned out by the roaring inferno. Something splinters above her and—

“Sk… Skylar! Skylar!”

Someone roughly shakes her. Cracking open an eye, she tries to focus on the face swimming in her vision. After a few moments, she decides it’s too much effort, letting her eyelids slip shut again. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Her world tilts all of a sudden. She idly realizes she’s leaning against… something? In reality, she has no clue what it is. Another shake rattles her already scrambled thoughts. 

“Wake up damnit!”

A twinge of regret has her trying to open her eyes again. She doesn’t like the desperation in the faraway voice. It feels… wrong, but she doesn’t know why. She just knows she needs to fix it and fix it quickly. Maybe then she’ll be able to rest. 

Blinking a few times, her world wobbles into focus, Nero’s bloodstained face with it. He stares at her, relief rushing into his features as she holds his gaze for a few seconds. Why was he covered in blood? Blood was never a good sign, especially in their line of work. Was he hurt or—

Legion!

Black spots dance in her vision as she pushes away. She needed to get away and fast. The longer she was around him the more danger he would be in. Legion would not hesitate to go after him and his family if it meant succeeding in its hunt. Stumbling to her feet her thoughts continue to race, a plan quickly forming. Maybe she should leave Fenrir here. He’d grown attached to Julio and now that Legion knew about Nero, he would be a good deterrent from—

Nero roughly grabs her arm.

“Skylar, where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Despite the snarled question, Skylar can hear his concern bleeding through. She shoves him off.

“Go away!” She spits. “This- this doesn’t involve you!” 

Nero steps in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Like hell it does! That thing knew about Yamato! That alone is dangerous!”

Clutching her blood-soaked abdomen, she tries her best to rise to her full height. 

“Then if you’re smart you would drop it and walk away! I’ve dealt with this for years! I don’t need your help! I don’t need you!”

The words scorch her tongue and she instantly wants to take them back. Her guilt only grows at the hurt in Nero’s eyes. 

And like a coward, she trudges past him, unable to look at the damage her words have wrought. 

It was better this way. Legion would get its hunt, Nero and his family would be safe, and Fenrir would finally be free of her. Like the fire she wielded, she only brought destruction. It was only a matter of time before the people around her were burned. And if Nero hated her… 

…then maybe it would be easier to leave.

Maybe home just wasn’t in the cards—

The back of her throat burns, the taste of blood and bile heavy in her mouth. Her name is called from behind her, but she barely hears it, too busy retching the contents of her stomach. Vision swimming, a dark puddle pools beneath her. The sight itself makes her sick.

She heaves again. It feels as if she’s being stabbed all over again.

Tears prick the edges at the corners of her eyes. She squeezes them shut, trying to battle the nausea. Coughing, her stomach rolls painfully. A whine shivers through the air. It takes her a moment to realize it’s coming from her.

There’s suddenly a hand on her back, hovering uncertainly. An arm braces against her, keeping her steady. She tries to focus on the steady presence. Despite being laden with blood, the familiar scent is comforting. Honestly, she would take anything to ignore the venom pulsing through her veins.

Her stomach twists again.   

Eventually, they stagger over to a fallen tree, where she drops heavily to the ground to lean her back against the marred bark. Nero sits down next to her.

“That didn’t look fun.” He comments. There’s a slight rasp to his voice, betraying his own exhaustion. "You doing okay?”

He looks at her with sympathy and Skylar knows she doesn’t deserve an ounce of it. Her brain tries to string together some semblance of, well, anything. Anything that will push him away. Anything that will distance him from her. She opens her mouth to speak and…

“I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry! I- I didn’t mean it, I—“ The words come tumbling out, betraying her with every sobbing breath. She tries to stop, but the dam has already broken. 

“I should- should have never said those things. I’m so sorry. But Nero, you got to go! You need to get away from me! I’ll only hurt you in the end, like- like everyone else who gets close to me. It wo- won’t stop! It never has!” 

Skylar grabs a loose part of his coat, in hopes to portray the severity of her plea. 

“Please.” She begs. “L-let me go! I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you to end up like them!”

Her desperation seems to take him by surprise, and Nero suddenly freezes as he stares at her. Carefully, he untangles her hands from his coat, holding her wrists to steady her. 

“Who Sky? End up like who?” He asks, his question soft and sad in a way she’s never heard before. The unexpected sympathy has her tumbling further into her despair.

“Th-the orphanage… it killed them… and I- I ran! It wanted me ! It’s all— it’s all my fault!”

Her chest tightens with each hitching breath. Legion’s vice gripe is at her throat, strangling her as her world burns around her. She can still hear their dying wails after almost a decade. 

Coward! Coward! It’s all your fault!

“There w-was a fire and demons and the- the floor collapsed on me- and- and—“

The hug is sudden if not awkward, Nero’s arms wrapping around her, pulling her in close. It breaks her from her spiraling thoughts, causing her to freeze. Hesitantly, she lifts her arms, returning the hug. Tears that she had been trying to push back rush forwards, streaming down her face. It’s not long before she’s sobbing into his shoulder, years of pain and despair finally surfacing.

Nero’s chin rests on her shoulder, hiding whatever expression he may be wearing. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, his usual snark unnervingly absent. Instead, he rubs small circles on her back, occasionally whispering hushed assurances. 

Time passes. Eventually, the wracking sobs morph into soft hiccups. Skylar sniffles before taking a deep shuddering breath, trying to regain composure. Never before has she felt so… hollow. It’s a strange sensation, akin to a wet towel being rung out to dry.

“Sorry.” She mumbles. Her face is still buried in his coat. “I shouldn’t have….”

A sad sigh rushes past her ear. 

“I get it. It always feels like you’ve gotta be at one hundred percent or the world’s gonna pull a fast one on you. Like…”

“Like if you show weakness for even just a moment, everything you care about will be torn away.” She responds, finishing his thought. Nero’s chin tilts against her shoulder in a silent nod.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Eventually, she lets Nero go, knowing that the sooner she gave him an explanation the better. Shuffling away, the world suddenly flips, her vision swimming in roiling waves. Skylar squeezes her eyes shut again in an attempt to center herself amongst the chaos, only to end up leaning heavily against Nero’s side. To her surprise, he doesn’t complain about her invasion of his space. 

“What do you want to know? You deserve that at the very least. No more lies, no more secrets.” At his silence, she looks up at him, meeting his evident hesitation. “Go on. Ask away. Don’t worry about me breaking down again. I don’t think I have enough energy to have another crying session.”

Okay, that last part might not be completely true, despite her earlier statement. Honestly, despite the emptiness, she still didn’t feel completely sound to talk. But at this rate, she would never be able to give him a proper answer.

“What was that thing?” Nero finally asks. “What does it want with you?”

Skylar takes a deep breath, steeling herself one final time for what she knows will be a harrowing explanation. 

“It calls itself Legion. From what I have gathered, it’s some sort of demonic hive mind, an ancient one at that. It’s how I learned about the connection to Sparda. Now what it wants with me…” Skylar huffs. “I honestly have no idea.” 

Nero furrows his brow.

“That’s why you came to Fortuna.” He realizes. “You were trying to find a way to get rid of it. Because if you could kill it, you already would have.”

“Yeah. Fortuna also has a pretty volatile magical field surrounding it. Probably because of the hell gates, even though they’re destroyed. You get more demon attacks, but it makes for a great hiding place. Legion must have picked up my scent again when we went on that job a few weeks back.”

“So when you said you were a runaway….”

It feels as if looking him in the eye is too much. Dipping her head, Skylar focuses on picking some dirt out from beneath her talons. 

“I was ten. Ran for about a year, barely scraping by until I met Fen. He was locked up in some old abandoned warehouse. I had broken in trying to escape the cold.”

“And Yamato… it knew about Yamato.” He sounds a bit shaken by that fact. Skylar doesn’t blame him.

“That surprised me too.” She admits. “Same with the whole ‘Dark Slayer’ thing. I’ve never heard that title before.”

Continuing to idly pick at the muck-covered talons, she eventually gives up on the endeavor, knowing it’s a lost cause. She stares a bit mournfully at the grime-encrusted scales, before she collects her thoughts, readying herself for what might be her final words to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have. I was stupid not to. But there was a moment when I thought maybe I had escaped, that maybe I was free. That’s what you get for being selfish, huh?” She chuckles darkly. “I understand if you hate me. Now that they know your name, I’ve put you and your entire family in danger. Hell, you should hate me.”

Maybe her keenness to move was not only to protect those around her but to protect herself from such heartbreak when she inevitably had to say goodbye. It was impossible to miss something never experienced. Until recently, she had never held onto the possibility of having a home or people she would consider friends.  

“Call it a family dinner.”

Family. 

How one word could leave her so breathless, so giddy in a way she thought impossible. The feeling is one she simultaneously despises and adores. It felt cruel, knowing that she would now never be able to experience such a feeling again. 

Would it have been better not knowing? Skylar suddenly realizes this would not be her final goodbye, her plan to leave Fenrir in Fortuna seeding dread within her. For the first time since the fire, she would truly be alone. 

Skylar fights back a shiver and pushes such thoughts away. She would have plenty of time for soul-searching once she was on the road again. 

“But… I uh, still want to thank you. This last year has been the best of my life. You, Kyrie, the boys, all of you gave me a taste of what it feels like to belong. So, thank you. Thank you for giving me that chance.”

Steeling herself, she looks up to the man she considers her friend, ready to face all his disdain and hatred. She’s honestly surprised he hasn’t pulled away yet, still allowing her to sit at his side. Yet, when she finally meets his gaze….

“Nope.” He says, so matter-a-factly that it throws her off guard. Absent is any of the hatred she had been expecting. Instead, she finds… determination?

“I’m sorry. What ?”

Nero shrugs, a gesture much too casual for the dire situation at hand.

“Nope, not happening.” He states again. There’s still no sign of malice in any way, shape, or form. 

“What do you mean, ‘not happening’?” Skylar balks. She leans back to make sure he hasn’t suffered some sort of head injury. It’s hard to tell from the crusted blood covering his face. “Did that Manticore knock a few screws loose?! I am a danger to you and your entire family. Your family with three young children! Legion knows you exist now and—”

“Exactly!” Nero points out, interrupting her. “Which is why it would be stupid for you to dip town. This thing’s a hive mind, right? Pretty sure that means it can be in multiple places at once. Which means, we would probably be safer if we all stuck together. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Skylar gnaws at the inside of her cheek. 

“I don’t really know. If I left Fenrir with you, he would help you protect them. It wants me and I’m not going to endanger one of you because of that. I wouldn’t be able to live knowing I lost one of you because of me.”

Her words seem to silence Nero. He stares off into the distance with an expression troubled, mixed with regret. Following his gaze, she spots a fallen knight in the carnage sea. Robes torn and sullied, his blade lays just out of his reach, the blood staining it a combination of demon and man. The knight looked to be only a few years older than both of them. 

Skylar wonders if Nero had known him.

“Have I ever told you about Credo?” Nero suddenly asks, pulling her from her thoughts. Skylar shakes her head. Only then does he look away from the fallen knight to address her.

“He was Kyrie’s older brother,” He continues. “And in a lot of ways my older brother too. He was always there if I needed him, hell, sometimes when I didn’t. I admired him, his sense of justice and his drive to protect others were what convinced me to join the Order, even though I didn’t believe in any of their bullshit. Really, he helped shape me into the person I am today. He was everything I strived to be when I was younger. At times, he still is.”

Nero turns his head away and his brow furrows, his mouth twisting into a silent, bitter scowl. The fabric of his glove whines as he clenches his hand into a fist.

“And then he was murdered right in front of me and I was powerless to stop it. All to protect Kyrie and me.”

Pressed up against his side, Skylar can keenly sense the sudden shift in his magic. Although tired and weakened, his magic flares with his anger, singing with his despair. The sensation sinks through her skin, giving her a taste of the sorrow he felt. 

The guilt.

The failure. 

What agony to lose someone so dear. 

“Even though Sanctus killed him, I can’t help but wonder if there was something I could have done. We have all this power and yet when we need it most it’s never enough. It feels like some type of cruel joke. It’s been more than two years now and I still can’t…. Kyrie has told me time and time again that it’s not my fault, but sometimes, I just….”

He tears his eyes away from the fallen knight, landing on her in a way she could only describe as haunted. Every fiber of her being hates how he wears such an expression.

“When I saw you, all I could think about is how I failed you like I failed Credo. I can’t let that happen again. I can’t live through that again. Do you understand?”

Desperation reminiscent of her earlier plea bleeds into his voice. She realizes he’s just as scared as she is, their reasoning different, yet similar all the same. Of course, both of them have been too stubborn to admit it. Ignoring her pride, Skylar decides to change that.

“I guess I’m just… scared. Terrified really. For so long, I’ve only had to worry about Fen and me. But now…” Skylar searches for the right word. When she finally finds it she’s surprised.

“I’m happy.” She whispers incredulously. “For the first time in a long time, I am truly happy. I have everything to lose Nero and that scares the shit out of me.”

Her admission seems to spark some understanding.

“Then we’ll just make sure we’ll fight tooth and nail to keep it. Got it? Together. I’m not about to give up my best hunting buddy.”

“Aren’t I your only hunting buddy?”

Nero shrugs. 

“Eh, I always have the mutt.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. The comment elicits a hint of a smile. Yet, despite his teasing jab, Nero’s tone grows serious again. A hand on her shoulder turns her attention to him.

“Promise me Sky. I need to know you’re not going to do anything stupid.”

She scoffs again, albeit a bit nervously. 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Skylar….” He warns. It’s evident he does not believe her. It’s not a complete surprise, but at this point, she just wants to rest. Besides, it’s not an absurd request, especially after everything that had happened. Stomping down her pride hopefully for the last time today, she nods. 

“Fine. I promise I won’t run off. You’re stuck with me.” She sighs tiredly. “There, happy now?”

Nero pauses for a moment, mulling over her simple oath to avoid any dumbassery. Skylar admits when his expression softens she’s a tad surprised, his eyes glimmering with an unfamiliar fondness. But, that can’t be right, especially after everything she put him through.

The fingers that suddenly ruffle her hair speak otherwise. Her surprise is the only thing that stops her from protesting, as she stares dumbly at the other hunter and his very genuine smile. 

“Yeah, I am actually.”

Chapter Text

“We don’t have to worry about Legion following us back, right? Rather not lead an army to my doorstep.”

Skylar leans heavily against Nero’s shoulder. While she had burned off a good portion of the Manticore’s venom, much of her remaining energy had been sapped from its remnants. Even now, she can feel her blood attempting to fight off the infection. It was times like these she was a bit envious of Nero and his fancy sword. His Devil Trigger seemed to have cleared most of the toxin. Nonetheless, his wavering step tells that he did not leave unscathed. Skylar tries to support him as best she can.

“No, it shouldn’t bother us for a few months now, taking into account I got the spell work right. By you sealing the portal, that path is closed to it. It’ll force it to find another way in.” She remembers the sudden surge of power, Yamato singing in a way she had never heard before. “By the way, nice job with Yamato there. I didn’t even know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.” 

They continue to trudge through the woods, every so often stepping over the disintegrating corpses of fallen demons. Skylar tries to ignore the dash of white cloth on the muddy terrain. At the third sighting of the stained uniform, she determinedly keeps her eyes forwards. Stretching her other senses, she makes sure nothing is following them.

“That thing you shoved in the demon’s mouth, what was that?” Nero asks, breaking the lapse of silence. He readjusts his grip on Blue Rose in his left hand. “Why did all the other demons die off when I closed the portal?”

“Over the years, I’ve figured out that Legion needs an anchor, I guess, to control its puppets. The hive’s consciousness is in each puppet, but it’s not permanent, more like renting than living. That journal I found in the library had some useful stuff in it. That’s how I came up with the scroll. It’s pretty much a binding seal.”

“Okay, but why not just kill the host?”

If only it were that easy.

“Because it jumps to a new body. It’s easier to pick out when I know what I’m looking for. Also, if I get far enough away from it, it has a harder time chasing me.”

She thinks back to the first time she had slain the beast, the absolute joy she had felt when she believed she was free of such a nightmare. She had paid dearly for such a mistake, Legion cornering her when Fenrir was away, the demon latching onto her arm and…

Her sword is stolen from her grasp as her arm is yanked forward, locked in the creature’s mouth. Fingers claw at its wretched eyes, gouging at them in hopes to get free. 

A flash, and the puppet lets her go. Don’t look, just run. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. Just run.

There’s too much blood. Too much.

“Can anything become a puppet? Anyone?”

A curt shake of her head answers him, as well as jostles any more intrusive memories.

“I’m not sure. From what I’ve seen, the body has to be… um… empty. I don’t know how it does it, but I think it has to do with control. Something mindless is far easier to manipulate.”

He keeps his expression level in hopes to disguise his unease. It’s easy to see through his façade, especially with the added strain in his voice.

“The woman though, she seemed so….” 

Skylar grimaces at his conflicted tone. 

“Alive? I know. I’m sorry about that. Honestly, I wasn’t sure until it was too late. It was too loud to listen close enough.”

When she receives a puzzled look she quickly tacks on some details.

“Their heartbeat.” She explains. “The one thing Legion can’t mimic for some reason. If you’re ever in doubt, listen for that and you’ll know immediately. Some of them also carry a rotting smell or have a weird eye twitch. But anything that looks remotely undead, that’s definitely it.”

A beat of silence, and Nero is evidently doubtful.

“You know how fucked up that sounds, right?”

While a bit difficult with Nero slung over her shoulder, she shrugs. It was still strange talking about Legion with another person. It was such a consuming part of her life, and yet, something she has so seldom spoken of. But, who would believe her in a world that still doesn’t believe in demons? 

“Hey, you wanted to know. Think of it like a public service announcement.”

Her vision swims, causing her to stumble. Nero barely keeps her upright, her sudden dead weight pulling him down with her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to even out her breathing.

“Freaking Manticores.” She hisses between her teeth. Regaining her balance, they continue to walk. “Hate those things.”

“That’s what that thing was?” She hears him ask. Skylar spares him a glance.

“You really need to brush up on your demonology.”

Nero scoffs.

“And you need to work on your aim. C’mon Sky, that demon was right in front of you.”

“It moved!”

“Yes, demons do that.”

“We’re getting close to the house. Still haven’t picked up anything?”

“Nada. You?”

“Nothing. Hopefully, that’s a good sign.”

Fortune seems to smile upon them for once, the streets clear of any people or demons. Soon enough, Skylar is met with a familiar charming brick house. A picket fence wraps around the house's entrance, allowing for a small lawn and a flower bed. Skylar especially likes the red gerbera daisies blooming near the gate.  

“We’ll go through the side gate into the garage. It’ll lessen the chance of tracking anything through the house. And… I rather not have the boys see any blood.”

“Yeah, good plan.”

They limp to the sideyard, pausing to allow Nero to fumble for his keys. Crossing the house’s threshold, she blinks, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“I’m still jealous of your garage. It’s so cool.”

The garage is surprisingly spacious, kitted out with a full workbench and storage for tools and miscellaneous knick knacks. A sewing machine sits farther down, accompanied by a comfortable looking chair. A few lockers line the walls, fitted with heavy-duty locks. Skylar smirks at the sight of a crayon drawing attached to one of them. The magnet that holds it is shaped like a duck.

“Not bad, huh?” Nero says, shuffling down the stairs towards the lockers. “Kyrie’s also a fan. Allows her to get away from the chaos. Uh, just a reminder, watch the fire, please. I store Red Queen’s fuel in here. It’s locked down, but I rather not chance anything.”

Skylar nods, watching Nero fiddle with one of the locks. He swings open the locker door before turning to work on another one. 

“You can store your gear in here. I’m really not in the mood for maintenance right now. I imagine the feeling’s mutual.”

If her rigid posture is anything to go by, it’s obvious she does not want to hand over Ragnarök. So far, the sword has allowed her to stay somewhat grounded in her exhaustion. To give up the blade in such a vulnerable state….

An amused hum saves her from her panicked thoughts. She turns to see Nero, the right corner of his mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly. Despite his teasing expression, there is a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

“Look, if I’m not able to carry weapons in my own house, you’re certainly not allowed to.” He jokes. Red Queen leans against the locker's metal interior. “It just wouldn’t be fair.”

Begrudgingly, Skylar swings Ragnarök’s scabbard from her back. She pauses, her hand freezing on the worn leather. Sighing, she lets go, only to begin rummaging through her pockets to empty her jacket of any spell-working supplies. Nero raises an eyebrow as she places a tiny firecracker on the shelf. 

“I’ll tell you later.” She explains. 

Shutting the locker, Skylar deftly catches the lock, securing it in place. The subtle squeak of the house’s door draws her attention. A familiar lupine demon pops his head through the opening. Skylar cocks her head.

“Fen, what are you doing here?”

Fenrir gives her a happy yip. 

“You didn’t send him?” Nero asks behind her. The other lock clicks shut. 

“No. He ran off when the demons appeared, mumbling about pups or something. I thought he was going to go check on the cubs. Guess this is what he meant.”

Another bark.

“Fenrir, is someone there?”

Kyrie opens the door, gasping at the sight of so much blood. Nero cringes. 

“Uh, hi meadowlark.” He greets her a bit awkwardly. “Ran into some trouble at work.”

Her expression darkens when she notices Nero favoring his leg. The wince after his wave doesn’t help 

“Nero, trouble is an understatement. Are you both alright? You were gone for the majority of the day.” 

Skylar locates a clock hanging above the door. She pales, realizing it was nearing four o’clock. It had been eleven this morning when she had left the house. 

“There were a lot of them, but we took care of it.” He assures. The hoarseness in his voice does nothing to sell his assertion. “Just a bit tired. It’s been a long day.”

Kyrie and Fenrir share a look that Skylar instantly dreads.

“Nero, you never admit you’re tired.” Nero’s meadowlark admonishes. “You’re too stubborn for it.”

The hunters are silent. Nero, realizing his mistake, open his mouth to retort, only to snap it shut at Kyrie’s glare. Skylar shuffles nervously beside him, hoping to hide from Fenrir’s judgment. 

She fails. 

Kyrie sighs.

“Inside, both of you. We’ll talk about your lack of self-preservation later. Skylar, I can get the spare bathroom ready if you would like to wash up.”

Skylar winces, already hating the disappointed look she’s receiving from the both of them. Nero’s magic flickers nervously, despite how faint his signature is. No matter how much she just wants to march home a pass out on her couch, she knows better than to argue with an angry Kyrie. 

“That would be great. Thank you, Kyrie.”

After shucking off their shoes and bloodied coats, they enter a hallway, a staircase, and the living room to their left. From her spot in the hall, Skylar can see the living room painted in a warm cream color. It’s for the most part tidy, barring the scattered makers and coloring books littering the wooden coffee table and the cozy looking sofa. Pictures line the fireplace on the far side of the room, Skylar’s exhaustion making it impossible to make out any faces. 

Kyrie shoos Nero up the stairs. Skylar sends him a wobbly two-finger salute, before following Kyrie to a cramped guest bathroom. Standing by the sink, she watches Kyrie rustle up a towel, washcloth, and sponge. Desperately trying to concentrate, Skylar is just able to register Kyrie’s explanation of how the shower works and what products to use. 

“I should have some old clothes around here somewhere.” She says, handing her a garbage bag. “For now, put your dirty clothes in here. I’ll see if I can find anything that may fit you and leave them on the vanity.”

“Thank you again, Kyrie. I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

“I know you are. It doesn’t stop the fact that I worry every time you both go on a hunt. Please just, try to take better care of yourself. It’s something I’ve been trying to instill in Nero for years.”

“How’s that been going?” Skylar asks, a bit amused. She already can guess the answer. Kyrie’s soft snort confirms that.

“About as well as you would expect.” The amusement transforms into something almost teasing. “It must run in the family.”

Skylar raises a questioning eyebrow, shaking her head, in an attempt to try and ignore the happy skip in her chest at the word. It is easily met with a pleasant smile as if the woman hadn’t called her reckless moments earlier.

“You know, I’m happy you’re there for him.” Skylar finally admits. “He deserves a life that’s… normal. I’m glad he’s able to have that.”

She wonders how life would have been for Nero without Kyrie’s sturdy presence. Kyrie centered him, a constant in the whirlwind of his life of demon hunting, someone he could return to for some sense of structure. She calmed that beast lurking in his blood and gave him the love and care he truly deserved.

In one short year, Kyrie had impacted her life in a way few had; to the extent that if anything were to happen to the woman, Skylar would gladly follow whatever warpath Nero forged to get her back. 

As if something were to happen to Kyrie, well…

Skylar fears for anyone brave enough to stand in Nero’s way.

“As do I.” Kyrie agrees. “But I believe everyone deserves that type of happiness. Even those who might not believe they do.”

Skylar dips her head, her attention locked on the stray thread poking out from the hole in her sock. The words come with good intentions but are difficult to believe.

“There are people that care about you, Skylar.” Kyrie urges. If she wasn’t covered in blood, she has a feeling a hand would be resting on her shoulder. “I know that it might seem strange, but you have us now. You deserve a normal life as well.”

“But is that even possible? My parents, the orphanage, now you and Nero. Every time I try, it just seems the world doesn’t want me to. Maybe it’s just not in the cards.”

She greeted with Kyrie’s silence. Her heart drops, not wanting to be right.

“The blue rose, what does it symbolize?” Kyrie suddenly asks. The question catches her off guard, making her look up to once again meet the woman’s gaze.

“What?” 

Crossing her arms, Kyrie leans against the bathroom vanity. “You’re the self-proclaimed ‘plant nerd’. So, tell me, what does a blue rose symbolize?”

A blue rose? Skylar wracks her brain. What did that have to do with anything? It was the impossible flower, never to be found in nature. A flower that many looked upon as a symbol of love and desire and…

The name Nero gave his trusty revolver. The one he crafted with his own two hands. 

A blue rose meant…

“Striving for the unreachable and attaining the impossible...” 

She looks up again, surprised by the smug smirk adorning Kyrie’s face. The woman’s eyes are warm, dashed with a bit of satisfaction. 

“I’ll leave some clothes out on the vanity once I find something. Take your time.”

The door clicks behind her as Kyrie leaves.

Chapter Text

Resting his head on the scratched kitchen table, Nero idly watches Kyrie busy herself in the kitchen. Much to his disappointment, she had decided against ravioli for dinner, instead opting to warm up leftovers of vegetable soup. Admittedly, with how off he was feeling, it was probably for the best. Nero flinches, not expecting the clack of a mug against the table. Kyrie stands next to him and gives him a worried look. 

“I made you some ginger tea for your stomach.” She soothes. Nero leans into her touch as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Hopefully it’ll help you with the nausea.”

He murmurs a thank you before sipping the warm beverage. Soon after he had stumbled upstairs, he had suffered the same fate as Skylar had earlier, promptly heaving into the toilet. Luckily, for now, his stomach seems to accept the tea, not doing an angry flip as he had first expected. Eventually, he drains the mug, settling back onto the table with a sigh. Kyrie had wanted him to stay upstairs and rest, but he hadn’t been able to. Despite how shitty he felt, he was still on edge from the events of the day, Legion’s appearance dragging out a menagerie of bad memories. 

It had almost happened again. 

He had almost lost another person he cared about.

Nero exhales forcefully through his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves. Kyrie had foregone her lecture, which Nero was thankful for. He already felt terrible (for many reasons) and knowing Kyrie, she probably believed that was enough of a lesson in itself. Still, he had a feeling they were going to talk about his rash tendencies at a later date.

Down the hall, he can hear the shower switch off. Thinking back to the battle, Skylar had been exposed to far more venom than he had. He squeezes his eyes shut and can’t help but be a bit jealous of the woman’s tolerance, a headache beginning to dig its claws in. Was this what it was like to be hungover? Getting drunk would really have to be worth it to deal with this after. 

A heavy weight suddenly rests on his lap, a soft whine following soon after. Running his fingers through Fenrir’s fur, the demon nuzzles against his palm. The soft rumble that resonates from the demon’s chest eases the pain in his head ever so slightly. 

“Do you want any more tea? You should probably drink some more since you haven’t had anything since this morning.” 

He goes to answer but he is interrupted by the slow squeak of the bathroom door. A disheveled Skylar shuffles into the kitchen. Despite showering, the slight smell of sickness still clings to her. Nero’s eyes narrow.

“That’s my sweatshirt.”

Indeed, Nero recognizes the frayed purple sweatshirt, its right sleeve cut and neatly hemmed to right above the elbow. Continuing to stare, he also recognizes a pair of his sweatpants, the ties drawn closely on her slimmer frame. 

Skylar simply rolls her eyes as she sits down and cradles her head against her arms. Kyrie shrugs. 

“Nothing I had in my closet fit her. She’s your height so I assumed they would work.”

“Told you.” Comes a muffled reply. 

“No one asked you Sky.” 

He promptly receives her middle finger.

The hearty aroma of soup wafts through the air as Kyrie fixes a few bowls, carefully placing them on the table. Nero knows something’s wrong when Skylar doesn’t immediately jump at Kyrie’s cooking, instead continuing to rest her head. 

“So, is anyone going to tell me what happened? Kyrie huffs, evidently annoyed at her lack of knowledge but too concerned for their well-being to grill them for details. The comment makes Skylar raise her head in silent questioning.

“You’ve been here all this time and haven’t told her anything?”

Nero idly stirs his soup. 

“I thought it’d be better if you explained.” He says, taking a cautious sip. The broth is pleasantly warm against his tongue. There’s a soft scraping noise as Skylar drags her bowl closer. She takes a curious sniff before also taking a sip. Her eyes brighten ever so slightly before she waves her spoon in his direction.

“She’s your girlfriend, why would I tell her?”

“Because it’s your psycho demon.”

Kyrie shakes her head.

“You two are impossible.” She grumbles. “At least tell me if either of you are in any danger.”

Skylar heaves a tired sigh.

“It’s not the first time it’s happened. Every time I’ve just waited it out and it was fine.”

It disturbs Nero how casual she is about the situation. The Manticore had been an unlikely surprise, one that he had never encountered before. Not only did it make him wonder what other horrors lurked in the dark reaches of the underworld, but it also made him worried about what other dangers Legion may send their way.

He mulls over this as Skylar recounts their run-in with the hive mind, sipping on his soup in relative peace. Admittedly, he zones out for a while, too tired to follow the conversation. It’s only when Skylar goes to stand up and her knees buckle that he snaps to attention. Her grip on the chair is the only thing keeping her from face-planting. 

“Skylar?!” Kyrie exclaims, rushing over. She steadies her, her hand carefully holding onto her elbow. 

“M’fine.” The devil hunter slurs. Weakly waving Kyrie off, she tries to stand again. “Don’t have’ta worry ‘bout me… Just… hitting harder than firs’ thought….” Despite her insistence, Skylar doesn’t move. A small shiver wracks her frame.

Kyrie blanches at her words and looks to him for answers. Nero winces, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Okay… maybe they weren’t out of the woods just yet. 

“I’m not so sure about that. Can you walk? I think it would be wise for you to lie down.”

Skylar doesn’t respond, instead stubbornly finding her footing to stand. She takes an uneven step, causing Fenrir to push up against her side. The demon growls something at her. Nero recognizes the words, “pup” and “reckless” amongst the guttural scolding. Skylar scoffs but leans against Fenrir’s side despite whatever he may have said. 

They make their way to the living room where Kyrie clears the couch of some stray toys. Arranging some pillows to one of the sofa’s arms, she instructs Skylar to lie down. 

“Seriously, m’fine.” Skylar protests. “I don’t—”

Fenrir growls again, cutting her off. 

She seems ready to retort but decides against it at Kyrie’s frigid glare. Nero keeps to his spot against the wall, the quick shot of adrenaline from earlier rapidly wearing off. He stays quiet, thankful he’s not on the receiving end of his meadowlark’s ire. 

Despite her grumbling, Skylar settles down on the couch. Her eyelids droop the moment her head hits the pillow, ruining whatever argument she may have planned. She mumbles something seemingly unintelligible, however, it causes Fenrir to step forward and rest his head next to her. Curling closer to the hound, it takes only a few seconds for the young devil hunter to promptly pass out.

Kyrie fiddles with a stray lock of hair. Carefully shuffling around Fenrir, she gently places the back of her hand against Skylar’s forehead. Her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“I know you insist you’re fine, but…” Removing her hand, Kyrie gently grabs Skylar’s wrist, checking her pulse. Her frown only deepens. “That’s a nasty fever and her heart rate feels a bit fast. I didn’t think it was possible for you two to fall ill. Are you absolutely certain the venom isn’t dangerous?”

He hated to admit it, but no, he wasn’t sure. Demons, all that lore shit, it wasn’t his strong suit. The mutt didn’t seem concerned, not as if they were dying. Maybe he should ask him? He was getting better at understanding him, and Sky could translate anything he didn’t understand.

Oh, wait. 

Right. She was asleep. Damn. Well, Plan B then. Did he have a Plan B? Usually that wasn’t his style, but it was probably the responsible thing to do. And Kyrie was already kind of mad at him, so maybe if he solved this whole mess, she’d be happy. He hated to see her worried and—

“Nero?” Kyrie’s concerned voice shakes him from his daze. “Dragonfly, look at me.” 

Nero blinks a few times to focus on Kyrie’s face swimming in front of him. When had she walked over? He feels the soft skin of her hand against his cheek. Closing his eyes, he leans into her touch, basking in the coolness. 

“No, no, you need to stay awake.” The hand pats his cheek. “I won’t be able to get you upstairs if you fall asleep. Come on, you need some rest.”

His head pounds, his thoughts swathed in a thick blanket of fog. The idea of sleep sounds very tempting. Nevertheless, Nero hesitates. 

“What if somethin’ happens?” He mumbles as he is carefully guided towards the stairs. He looks over to see Kyrie watching him like a hawk.

“Then I’ll make sure to wake you.” She comforts. “Go rest. It seems like it’s the only way you’re going to feel better.”

Her words leave no room for argument, so with a heavy heart, he spares one last look into the living room. Whatever his expression may be at that moment seems to grant him some sympathy. 

“I’ll be up in a bit.” Kyrie promises. “I just need to finish a few things down here. Everything is going to be fine, I’m sure of it.”

Nero sighs and with a gentle shake of his head, he continues his ascent up the stairs. To his surprise, the boys are quiet, not having emerged from their room to investigate. He doesn’t know what Kyrie may have bribed them with, but he is thankful nonetheless. They shouldn’t be exposed to all of this.

And admittedly, he doesn’t have the energy to explain everything at the moment.

Bonelessly, Nero collapses onto the bed, burying himself deep under the covers. He’s dead to the world moments after, dragged into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

“Fen?”

The room is dark when she regains consciousness, so much so that Skylar feels claustrophobic. Pushing herself off the couch, she squints trying to make sense of her surroundings. She remembers falling asleep at Nero and Kyrie’s; remembers stumbling back after the whole debacle with Legion. 

Quietly padding into the hall, Skylar looks for any sign of, well, anyone. Her ears ring from the deathly silence. 

“Fen?” She calls again, desperately hoping for a response.

Fenrir’s nickname is lost in the empty hall. 

“Kyrie? Nero?”

Maybe they’re in the kitchen?

A few steps in she raises her Devil Bringer, hoping to clear some of the inky darkness. She didn’t understand. Why is it so hard to see? She’s never had problems in the pa—

Her Devil Bringer. Skylar stares at her suddenly human arm. Where was her—?

“Miss Skylar?” Julio’s voice rings out from the darkness. Whirling around, she faces the boy standing directly behind her. How had he snuck up on her? There was no way she could have missed him.

“Julio, are you okay?” She asks worriedly, scanning the pitch black. Were the walls closing in or was it just her? “Where is everyone?”

The young scholar tilts his head, his features void of emotion. Skylar opens her mouth to ask again only to freeze when his left eye twitches violently.

She takes a fumbling step back.

“Miss Skylar?” The thing wearing Julio’s skin asks again. What did it do to his voice?! Kyle walks out from behind him, Carlo in his arms. She already knows it’s not them.

When? How? There was no way that—

“Angel. Angel!”

Fleeing down the hallway, Skylar can hear the boys chasing after her, somehow closing the distance with every step. A familiar figure stands down the now seemingly endless hallway. Skylar waves her arms to warn her. 

“Kyrie!” She shouts. “Kyrie! Run!”

Maybe together they could find a way to save them. If they could just find Fenrir and Nero, maybe they could….

A slow twist of Kyrie’s neck reveals the mass of twitching eyes peppering her face. Skidding to a halt, Skylar’s heart jumps into her throat.

“No… Kyrie…!” 

Kyrie stares at her blankly, the hive mind buzzing in her mind. Skylar swallows thickly.

“Kyrie… we’ll fix this somehow, there has to be a way…!”

Kyrie shudders violently.

“Why Skylar…?” She rasps. A tear runs down her cheek. “How could you…?”

She reaches out as if wanting to grab her hand. Skylar steps forwards, hoping to provide some comfort to her friend. 

A scream claws up her throat as razor-sharp teeth dig into her shoulder. Twisting her head back, she meets Fenrir’s blazing gaze. He bites down again, eliciting another strangled yell. Her back slams against the cold pavement, winding her. The impact barely gives her time to roll out of the way of Fenrir’s swipe. Fire singes her back. 

“Fen! Fen it’s me! Please, you’ve got to stop!” 

The demon pounces again, showing no sign of mercy. Skylar stumbles back, her bare feet freezing against the snow-covered ground. The air howls around her, the only thing keeping her safe from Fenrir’s burning fury. She swipes at him with her Devil Bringer—

Red splatters against the pristine ivory sheet, her pained howl drowned out by the raging winds. He crunches down, bone shattering from his deadly grip. In her peripheral vision, Skylar finds a familiar glint of silver buried beneath the snow. Grabbing Ragnarök’s hilt, she smashes the pommel against Fenrir’s head. The demon staggers back from the blow, allowing her to drag herself away. Her arm hangs limply at her side, useless.

Fenrir roars and mercilessly charges her. 

“Stop!” She pleads. Another duck, another roll. Why won’t he stop?! “Please Fen! Please stop !”

Dodging under a strike from his snapping jaws, she slashes Ragnarök dangerously close to the demon to push him back. She just had to get away! Regroup! Anything but—

Her mind blanks as she rends Fenrir’s throat, her body acting on pure instinct. Ragnarök sinks into the sullied snow. She quickly follows him, collapsing onto her knees. Her hands shake as she reaches for her fallen friend, hoping, praying that he still may draw breath. His body is cold as ice.

  Cradling the great demon’s head, tears race down her face, mixing with the ice slurry beneath her. She shakes him in hopes he will move.

“Please Fen! Please wake up! I can’t do this without you!”

Amongst the winds, a whisper catches her ear. She stares in horror as her friend twitches to life and looks at her with unseeing eyes.

“Look at you angel. Look at how you've grown.”

Skylar scurries backward, trying to escape his desolate eyes. Gone is the warm, compassionate gaze that she has adored since childhood. Stained with blood, the panic leaves her lightheaded, gasping for breath. She suddenly feels a familiar burning sensation rushing up her arm.

No!

Skylar grits her teeth, falling to her side and clutches her mangled arm. Already she can see the rugged scales piercing through her skin, just as they had five years ago. The voice hisses closer to her ear, rattling around in her skull, growing louder with every word.

“You’re one of us now. You were one of us the moment you picked up that blade.”

Skylar squeezes her eyes shut as she feels her fingernails morph into talons. She bites back another scream. The crunching of ice pulls her from her pain-induced haze. A blue coat flutters in the wind.

“Nero…?” She rasps, trying in vain to push herself up. To her relief, there seems to be no sign of Legion’s influence. “Please, Nero, I—!”

“Shut up! Don’t talk to me!”

Her heart stops.

“Nero, what—?”

Agony rips through her. To her horror, she watches as scales begin to appear on her other arm. 

This shouldn’t be happening! This didn’t happen before!

The top of her skull aches along with the base of her spine. 

“Why would I want anything to do with a coward?!” He questions, roughly gesturing to his surroundings. “Look at them! They’re all dead because of you !”

And look she does. Bile rises to the back of her throat as she surveys the surrounding landscape, littered with the corpses of everyone from the orphanage. Eleanor’s lifeless body lies torn to bits a meter away. Craig’s construction crew lies among them, their limbs twisted and torn like discarded toys. 

She bites back another scream as the scales race further up her arm, her sweatshirt tearing as jagged spines protrude from her back. 

“It’s fitting, you know? Now the world will see the monster that you really are.” 

Crack!

Blood rushes down her back, soaking the remains of the fabric. Something that looks frighteningly like a tail flicks in the corner of her vision.

“Angel, huh?” Nero scoffs, shaking his head. Red Queen glints menacingly in the frigid night. “No. All I see is more demon scum.” 

Her hellish screech is drowned by the all-consuming storm as Red Queen cleaves toward her neck.

Chapter Text

Nero pries his eyes open, rubbing the crust that had formed from his slumber. He sits in bed for a moment, idly watching the blankets rise and fall with Kyrie’s easy breaths. Everything seems calm, the sun not having started its ascent to crest above the distant hillside. The cool morning air fogs slightly on the window.

Then why did something feel… off?

Despite his limbs feeling like lead weights, he slips out of bed, silently making his way down the stairs. The house is quiet, other than his sock-muffled steps. He reaches the base of the staircase only to peer into the living room...

…and curses under his breath.

Other than the fluffed pillow perched crookedly on one of the cushions and the carefully folded blanket draped over one of the arms, the couch is empty. Nero hurries to the kitchen in hopes that Skylar is simply getting a glass of water, which he knows is a foolish hope. He’s not surprised to find the kitchen empty, the glassware and various mugs untouched. The garage is his next destination.

Stepping down onto the cement pad, he quickly checks the lockers, relieved to find Ragnarök still sitting in his scabbard. He’s a bit puzzled by the absence of the knick-knacks Skylar had stored on the shelf above but thinks little of it. Ready to close the locker and continue his search, he pauses to look at the Devil Arm. Maybe he should take Ragnarök with him if Skylar decides anything rash. She would never abandon her beloved blade. 

Making up his mind, he reaches out to grab the sword, but not before Yamato hums in warning from within his arm. Nero hesitates, his fingers just about to brush the worn leather. Ragnarök has yet to react to his presence, showing no signs of retort. 

“What, you jealous of something?” There’s no reply except for another soft hum. He shrugs before completing the motion, his fingers wrapping around the hilt…

…which he immediately drops as Ragnarök scorches his hand.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He hisses under his breath as he snags his arm back. The burn isn’t bad, healing in a matter of seconds, but his pride had yet to be soothed. Yamato hums again, this time as if to say, ‘told you so’. Nero rolls his eyes. Oh, there was no way he was going to be beaten by a stupid sword.

“You really wanna do this?” Ragnarök hums in response as if to egg him on. Nero scoffs. “Fine, have it your way then.”

Airing his hand to try to cool the remaining sting, he grabs Ragnarök with his Devil Bringer in hopes to combat any other attempts to burn him. While not as fireproof as Skylar, his thick scales somewhat protect him when the Devil Arm flares again. 

The crash of magic that slams into him physically has him stumbling back as Ragnarök investigates his new wielder. Yamato hisses at the sudden intruder, her chilling energy snapping out at the fiery presence. While the two Devil Arms seem equal in strength, Nero can tell the long sword is far older; ancient in a way that’s almost primordial. Its magic rumbles with the force of the very earth it was born from, the metal forged in hell’s deepest and darkest reaches. 

Yet he stands his ground as the weapon continues his invasive analysis, pure unadulterated magic sniffing around his soul with the eagerness of a bloodhound. Skylar had always been so protective over the Devil Arm, for reasons Nero is now beginning to understand. If he had known such a challenge would arise from simply picking up the sword, he might have thought twice.

Not that it would have stopped him. After all, he was a stubborn one.

And suddenly… everything stops. Ragnarök’s raging magic calms, silently drifting in tune with his own. The synchronicity is almost peaceful after the utter chaos from before. He’s about to let out a sigh of relief when—

He’s flying, soaring on wings not of his own, in skies so alien he’s certain they are not of this world nor of his time. He snaps his wings shut to dive through the chaos, deftly evading a swarm of Hellbats gunning for his flank. Below him rages a savage war, an endless sea of demons clashing against one another on the desolate terrain. They ebb and flow like crashing waves, a bloody ocean sloshing beneath their feet.

A screech steals his attention and he looks up to the towering tree before him, its sprawling roots reaching for the heavens above. He had aided him in the climb so far, heeding his king’s call to arms. With the forbidden fruit in his king's possession, there was no one to stand in their way. With another beat of his wings, he shoots for the canopy. The vines lining the trunk snap at him, forcing him to weave through the sudden onslaught. There, at the top of the tree, it is impossible to miss the marble feathers, worthy of only a true demon king such as—

“Fuck…!” Nero exhales, shaking himself from the all-consuming vision. Adrenaline courses through him unhindered and it takes an unsteady breath to finally calm his racing heart. The echoes of the ghostly battle still ring in his ears and the sudden shift in perspectives leaves him disoriented. To his surprise, Yamato is silent, giving no objection when Ragnarök’s magic curls contently around his soul. However, Nero does not miss the mournful ring from the blade. For once he has no idea what it means, unable to skim any deeper meaning. To have another Devil Arm bond with him is strange, and it takes him a moment to adjust to the sudden shift. 

It’s only then that he realizes he can acutely sense Skylar’s magic outside. 

“Guess it’s the least you could do after all that shit.” He grumbles. Carefully slinging the scabbard onto his back, Nero exits out the side door and rounds the side of the house. The early morning chill seeps into his skin, his flannel pajama pants and t-shirt useless in keeping him warm. Nero tries to ignore the sudden keenness in his senses, his feet leading him to a destination he has no knowledge of. 

Yet, sure enough, he spies the elusive devil hunter crouched over a pocket-sized book, some scraps of paper, and a pen. The air tinges with the metallic scent of blood as Skylar pricks her finger with one of her talons. Droplets of blood carefully splash onto the paper. A moment later, it’s burned, the ashes scattering, glowing hot with embers. Not a moment later she tears another page, beginning the whole process again.

She doesn’t look up from her work as he approaches and slips Ragnarök off his back to lean against the fence. Continuing to fiddle with some parchment, it takes him to speak up to force her to look at him. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He sighs. After the struggle with Ragnarök he’s admittedly worn out. The thought of just going back to bed is very tempting. “It’s like, four in the morning.”

Finally, Skylar turns to address him, a quip locked and ready on her tongue. But, she falters when she spies the longsword leaning up against the fence next to him. 

“You have Ragnarök with you.” She breathes, surprise evident in her wide-eyed expression. 

Nero scoffs, giving the weapon a sour look. 

“Yeah, even though he was an ass about it. Stupid thing burned my hand the first time I picked him up.” The sword rumbles, signifying his discontent. “What?! I’m just telling the truth!”

Skylar simply sits there, stupefied. He uses that as an excuse to ask again.

“Still, that doesn’t answer my question.” He states, eyes narrowing in suspicion. That seems to snap her away from whatever thought might be bouncing around in her skull. Her expression hardens a bit, her shoulders squaring defensively. 

“It’s nothing.” She insists, looking away. “I’m just doing a little bit of touch-up on your warding. I wanted to tweak a few things and reinforce the rest of it. I’m making it so that only specific demons can cross in and out while everything else is repelled. Fenrir and anyone who shares our blood gets a pass. So, just go back to sleep. I’ll finish up in a bit.”

Sensing bullshit, Nero crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. The action garners an annoyed huff. Nonetheless, her expression softens. 

“I’m not thinking of running away if that’s what you’re worried about. I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it.”

The dark circles under her eyes are hard to miss, even in the shadows of the early morning. After everything that happened yesterday, he imagines she would be exhausted as he is, and yet…

“Where’s Fenrir? Surprised he’s not glued at the hip.”

Skylar shifts uncomfortably.

“He’s out patrolling the area. Can’t be too careful, ya know?”

“Okay…” With Fenrir on guard, there’s no reason why this can’t be done later. “Can’t sleep then. Let me guess, nightmares?”

The nervous twitch in her magic confirms his suspicions. 

“I, uh…” Skylar falters. Eventually, she dips her head in resignation. “Yeah. Yesterday stirred up a lot of bad memories. A lot of… doubts.”

“Like?”

She goes silent again, continuing to work on whatever he had interrupted. When she doesn’t speak up again he chooses to take action instead. Pushing away from the fence, he walks over to sit next to her on the curb.

“Hey, aren’t we being honest now?” He asks, a bit more gently. Sitting down, Nero tilts his head to meet her gaze. “Say what you want to say. It’s not like you to act so jumpy.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she opens her mouth to speak but hesitates. What eventually tumbles from her mouth seeds dread within him.

“Am I dangerous?” She asks to his surprise. Already he doesn’t like where the conversation is heading, but he obliges her with an answer.

“I mean your aim could use a bit of work….” He jokes. His jest earns him a soft laugh, but a sad shake of her head follows soon after.

“I don’t mean because of Legion. That man at the bar. If you hadn’t been there I would have…and the woman, if I had been wrong…. ”

She hesitates a moment as if scared to ask her question.

“Does that make me dangerous?”

Nero’s mind wanders back to the day prior when he thought his trust was betrayed, doubt swirling in his mind at the sight of Skylar pressing a blade against an innocent’s throat. He remembers the word hissing from his lips, words that he had heard himself so many times before. 

“Stay away from him dear.” He remembers a mother whispering to her child. “That monster only brings bad luck.”

Of all the people to say that too, of course, it would be to someone who understands how deep such words cut. Shame wells within him.

“You’re not a monster Sky. I had no right to say that.”

While she holds her stare, he can see the sympathy bleed into her eyes mixing with the dash of fear. She’s not angry with him, much to his relief. 

“But you did.” Her voice cracks ever so slightly. She clears her throat, trying to hide the sudden break in her composure. “I don’t hold it against you, but it’s what you said. So, my question still stands.”

And he looks at her, really looks at her, the woman that had unknowingly protected the love of his life and the child that had been entrusted into his care. The woman that had protected his back in battle, had taken a hit for him that could have spelled her doom. 

“After everything I’ve seen, hell no.” His answer is resolute. Skylar’s silent sigh of relief confirms his suspicions, so he asks. “What’s got you so scared?”

To his surprise, her attention flicks to the Devil Arm leaning against the fence behind them. Nero gives her a confused look when she doesn’t elaborate.

“Ragnarök. He’s not just a normal blade.” Skylar finally admits. “Yes, he’s a Devil Arm, but that’s not the whole story.”

He stays silent, a bit worried that if he says anything she won’t continue her tale. This was the closest he’s been to any type of full story from her. There was no way he was letting this chance go to waste. Skylar, as if hoping for some interruption, sighs before resuming.

“Years back, Legion found me again. Fen was off chasing away some stray demons that had caught our trail and I was working on setting up camp for us. We had been on the road for about a week and the nonstop traveling was starting to get to me. I was young and didn’t have the knowledge I have now. I was stupid to stop.”

She shivers, her expression haunted as she dredges up the memory. Skylar shakes her head, freeing herself from any harrowing recollections.

“With Fen away, Legion took its chance and a few of its pawns attacked me. Tore my arm bloody when it tried to take Ragnarök from me. But when it did, it got blasted. It’s the only reason I was able to escape. It was the night that I got this.” She raises her Devil Bringer half-heartedly. 

“It screamed about how Ragnarök betrayed them, how it was impossible for him to choose someone like me. And that’s when I realized, I’m not Ragnarök’s first wielder.” She swallows thickly, tapping her fingers nervously against her thighs. “It was Legion’s blade at one point.”

Nero reels at the unexpected news.

“What about Fen? Didn’t you find Ragnarök with him?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, but not by choice. It was sealed with him. How?” Skylar shrugs. “We still haven’t figured that out. He doesn’t remember much, and anything he does is a mixed bag.” 

Nero’s mind races, trying to find any reason someone would keep such an object. A lifetime on the run for a single Devil Arm? Once again, Skylar seems to sense his confusion.

“It’s not the reason it’s after me if that’s what you’re wondering. Legion never tried to snag him again after that night.” She clarifies, her eyes lingering on the blade before addressing him again. “Would have ditched him a long time ago if that was the case.”

Ragnarök hisses in displeasure, a short pulse of energy causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end. Skylar gives a half-hearted chuckle.

“I’m just telling the truth buddy.”

Nonetheless, she shakes her head with a sigh.

“But… who’s to say I’m not going down the same path? I don’t think Ragnarök is doing anything, at least intentionally, but I just… I don’t know. Legion hasn’t said much about him since, but I think it’s because whatever Ragnarök did was a done deal. That’s why I was so surprised you had him with you. Ever since I picked him up, he’s been very picky about anyone touching him. Even Fen.”

There’s another pulse of energy, the residue tingling against his skin. It reminds him of his struggle earlier.

“Well then, if that’s true, guess I’m fucked.” He leans back with a sigh, stretching his legs so that they rest on the deserted road. “I can’t explain how much weird shit he showed me earlier.”

He receives a slow blink, bewilderment radiating from her. 

“Wait, you saw it too?” Her words are hushed, unbelieving. “The weird demon tree? The stone angel?”

“Yeah… never seen anything like it before. You?”

Skylar shakes her head. 

“And here I thought I hallucinated it all.”

“Well, that would be quite the hallucination. Got any idea what it means?”

He receives a frustrated huff.

“Not a clue.” She pauses, thinking for a moment. “But that does change some things. It means that maybe there’s something out there to stop Legion. If I look hard enough maybe….”

A yawn interrupts her train of thought and she tiredly rubs her eyes. She stifles another yawn threatening to escape. At that, Nero gives her a small nudge.

“Yeah, but I think that can wait. Sleep now, plan later. I’m too tired for this shit.” Nero stretches his legs one final time before standing up from the curbside. Skylar shakes her head in dismay.

“When did you become the responsible one?” Skylar scoffs, burning her final slip of paper. She collects the remainder of her spell-working materials, shuffling them neatly and stashing them away into her jacket.

“Who knows? But we gotta balance out the dumbassery somehow.”

“Yeah, but what about your dumbassery? Who’s keeping that in check?”

Nero snags Ragnarök from his spot on the fence. With the scabbard slung over his back, he offers his hand to Skylar still sitting on the curb.

“That’s why I have Kyrie.” He confesses.

Skylar grabs his hand, allowing him to pull her up to stand. Although still very tired, his answer earns him a genuine laugh. 

“Well, at least you admit it.”

He’s able to nab four more hours of sleep, something that had come as a surprise when he had woken up. Kyrie tucked in his arms, resting her head on his chest, he had been very content to just lounge in bed the whole day. It had been a struggle getting up again. It takes an extra hour for Skylar to appear in the kitchen doorway, sleepily rubbing her eyes in an attempt to shake herself awake. Fenrir at her side, he keeps an eye on her as she pads into the room. Realizing she’s suddenly the center of attention, she stops and stands there a bit awkwardly. 

All in all, she looks like shit. 

“Uh, thanks for the change of clothes.” She finally says, breaking the silence. “I’ll make sure to wash them before I return them to you. And, um, sorry if I was any trouble.”

Kyrie shoots her a warm smile and gestures to the table.

“It’s no trouble, Skylar. Here, sit. Did you want something to drink?”

The idiot’s not going to want anything. Nero knows it. 

“No, I should be fine. ”She answers, to nothing of his surprise. “Thank you though.”

He rolls his eyes. Predictable.

“Are you sure?” Kyrie asks. Nero picks out the mischievous glimmer in her eye. “I have some licorice root tea that you may like. Nero made a comment that you were fond of it.”

Skylar’s eyes narrow as she turns to scowl at him. 

“Nero, you snitch!”

Nero throws his arms up in dismay.

“Snitch about what?! It’s just tea!”

They glare at each other, a silent battle of wills. She must be truly exhausted, folding much sooner than he would have expected.

“Fine.” She sighs. “Fine. Thank you, Kyrie. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Of course, Kyrie waves her off.

“No, just sit and rest. I’ll have your tea ready in no time.”

They chat without their normal exuberance. Nero sips on his coffee and is ready to pour himself another cup when Kyrie gives him a warning side glance. With a soft huff, he rinses out his mug to fill it with water. Probably for the best anyways. 

Skylar gives Kyrie a nod of thanks when offered her tea, holding the mug close in her hands. Taking a tentative sip, she hums happily. Trying to disguise a greedy gulp, it’s not long before the mug is empty. Sighing, Nero snags the mug from her, handing it off to Kyrie. It’s returned to her filled with water. He doesn’t miss her disappointed frown. 

“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?” He asks, giving her a pointed look. Skylar idly chews the inside of her cheek.

“Um… yesterday?”

Kyrie pauses from washing a pan. 

“Other than the soup.” He adds, his brow furrowing with his suspicion.

Her lips draw into a thin line.

“A few days? Maybe? Look, it wasn’t like I had time! I’ve been busy!”

“With what exactly? You’ve been MIA for like, two weeks. What could be so important that you would forget to eat?”

Skylar idly scratches the back of her neck.

“Uh, remember those notes that I copied from the journal?” Nero nods. “Well, let’s just say they were really useful. Whoever wrote them knew their stuff.”

It dawns on him what an achievement the other devil hunter had just accomplished.

“Are you telling me you translated those notes, researched, and applied that to make a seal in two weeks? Something that I’ve only seen from people in the Order?” For someone self-taught, he couldn’t help but be impressed. It was common for them to poke fun at each other, Nero giving her grief about her horrible math skills and she in turn teasing about his lack of knowledge in demonology. But he made sure to give credit where credit was due. Skylar seems unsure how to take the unexpected compliment.

“I had the majority of the idea down, but I was missing some important components. I just found what I was missing in the journal. Didn’t have a lot of time, so that kind of stuff was pushed to the wayside.” 

Well, that explains why she looks so drained. After all the fighting and resisting the venom, her metabolism probably gnawed through everything she had and then some. He’s not sure if he should be impressed with the woman’s determination or be concerned about her stubbornness. Was this what Kyrie went through all the time with him? He didn't think he could admire her patience any more than he already did.

“Then you better make sure you eat. I swear, if you ever pass out on a hunt because of that, you’re never going to hear the end of it.” He jabs, hoping she’ll rise to the bait.

“Oh, and you don’t drink coffee like it’s water?” Skylar snaps back with more of her usual exuberance. Good, this was more to what he was used to. “Hydrate or diedrate bi—!” 

“It’s not a competition.” Kyrie sighs, interrupting the beginning of Skylar’s tangent. She turns back to the dishes with a disappointed shake of her head. “You both have terrible nutritional habits, which is concerning on many levels.”

“But everything’s a competition Kyrie.” Skylar drawls. “That’s what makes everything interesting.”

“Dark Knight save me…” Kyrie mumbles to Nero’s amusement. He barely contains a snort of laughter, Skylar biting her lip to try to hide her growing grin.

The pitter-patter of footsteps saves the hunter from Kyrie’s lecture. 

“Miss Sky! You’re alright!” Kyle exclaims as he bolts into the kitchen. A gentle chuckle escapes Skylar.

“Of course I’m alright. I wouldn’t let some dumb demons spoil everything.”

Bouncing up and down, Kyle waves his hands about.

“Julio says that you’ve never had a slumber party before. We have to do a slumber party! They’re super fun and Julio says you’re really good at reading. Maybe you can do story time!” 

While she wears a smile for Kyle, she silently stares daggers at Nero.

“Unfair Nero.” She hisses low enough so only he and Fenrir can hear. He shrugs, shooting her a smug grin. Not his fault that was part of Kyrie’s bribe. His amusement only grows when she realizes she can’t flip him off with Kyle around.

“Then I guess I’m spending the night.” She concedes, looking between Kyrie and him. “I hope that’s okay.”

The soft smirk on Kyrie’s face confirms that she had planned this from the beginning. Of course, she would be concerned about Skylar’s well-being. It was just how Kyrie was. Another thing to add to the long list of reasons he loves his meadowlark.

“You are always welcome here. And don’t blame Nero too much, it was Julio’s idea.” Kyrie soothes.

Skylar shakes her head fondly. 

“Well, can’t argue with that.”

Eventually, Julio walks down with Carlo in tow. While he may not know the exact circumstances of what happened, the kid’s relief at the sight of them speaks volumes of his concern. And while he may not be related by blood, it was impossible to miss how much Julio followed Kyrie’s example, his calm and caring nature something very reminiscent of her.

Kyle, however…

“Wow! You have a cool arm just like Mister Nero! Is that what’s under all the bandages? Can my arm be like that too?” 

The adults of the house freeze, unease dripping off the two devil hunters. Both of them had shared their less-than-positive sentiments on the demonic appendage many times. 

“Uh no, Kyle,” Skylar insists, evidently trying to hide the panic rising in her voice. “I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, it’s not as great as it seems.”

Kyle slumps his shoulders, an annoyed look crossing his face. 

“But it looks like a dinosaur arm!” Kyle exclaims. “Or a dragon! And dragons are awesome! How could it be bad?”

Nero comes to her rescue. 

“She’s got a point buddy. It may look cool, but it comes with a lot of problems as well. I have to be very careful with everything do. Skylar does too. And not everyone finds it as cool as you do. It’s not the most… normal thing to see every day.”

Even after a year, Kyrie was still trying to convince Skylar to do away with wrapping her arm. Both of them recognized her evident discomfort, the tightly wound cloth suffocating the scales underneath. At first, Kyrie had received unfaltering resistance, even the mention of letting anyone lay eyes on it was immediately rejected. It had taken for Nero to visit the young half-demon at work and to interact with the rest of Craig’s crew to at least open her to the idea. None of the workers had treated him differently, many of them defectors from the Order when it first fell. To his surprise, he had even received a few apologies; specifically from those who may have stood idle in the past when he needed help. Of course, he had played it cool, but a part of him was still reeling from their words. 

He had to remember that she’d been stuck with her arm longer. Such habits were not easy to break, something he knew far too well living in Fortuna’s suffocating society. But he couldn’t ignore her plight. He had been in the same position, walked in the same shoes of self-consciousness.

“Uh, hey Carlo, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…!“

Skylar’s worried tone breaks him from his thoughts, and he turns to see the youngest of the house attempt to climb up onto Skylar’s lap. The toddler pats her leg and raises his arms above his head.

“Carlo, do you want up?” He asks, to which he receives an enthusiastic nod. This time, the nervous jitter in her magic does not stem from their recent encounter with the hive mind. It’s both amusing and a bit sad how Skylar looks at Carlo with such fear.

“You’ll be fine Skylar.” He assures. Kyrie also gives a nod of assent, soothing some of the devil hunter’s worry, but not quite enough to ease her concerns.

“But what about…?“ Skylar wiggles her clawed hand. Nero looks her dead in the eye.

“I trust you.” The confession rings with a deeper meaning, a meaning which gives Skylar pause. Carefully, she picks Carlo up, much to the young child’s glee, and sits him on her lap. The boy immediately starts poking at the scaly appendage. Nero receives a nod.

“And I, you.” 

They work together quietly in the confines of the garage, the old jukebox he had dug up when he was younger playing softly in the corner. Although still weary from the day before, both of them knew the importance of weapon maintenance. Putting it off any later could prove dangerous, especially with the emergence of a new threat. The ring of a whetstone hums along to the wailing guitars and rapid drum beat. Nero was thankful that they had similar tastes in music.

“Okay, so are you gonna explain the literal firecracker in your arsenal?” He eventually asks, looking up from his work on Red Queen’s motor. “I don’t see how something so small would do anything to a demon.”

His trusty sword lies disassembled on the workbench before him, a puzzle of machinery that Skylar had given up trying to understand the moment she lay eyes upon it. Instead, she pauses her polishing of Ragnarök’s razor edge, snatching the paper object from her jacket and placing it on the table.

“Oh, but au contraire my good friend! This is no ordinary firecracker!”

His curiosity getting the better of him, he picks it up, turning the seemingly delicate object in his hands. Wrapped tightly in red paper, he squints at the tiny runes littering the entirety of the outside. His Devil Bringer glows slightly, surprisingly reacting with the power apparently locked inside of it.

“Yeah, no shit.” He raises an eyebrow. “What is it? It looks like a kid’s toy.”

“Magic.” She proclaims, wiggling her fingers for effect.

“Duh…” He deadpans. There was something she wasn’t telling him. It garners a dramatic sigh.

“You’re no fun.” Skylar huffs.

He raises his eyebrow higher. 

“Ugh, fine.” She dramatically slumps back in her seat as she folds. “It’s a collection of different spell works, folded into one single package, loaded up with an ungodly amount of my own magic. Think of it as a portable mini Devil Trigger. It took me a full year to make this one and I haven’t been able to recreate it since. In theory, if I light it, the surrounding area is blasted with whatever’s locked inside it.”

Nero carefully places the literal bomb down on the workbench, scooting it away.

“You carry the equivalent of a live grenade in your pocket?”

She waves a dismissive hand. 

“It’s safe. I have to purposely set it off. It’s as dangerous as a candy wrapper at the moment. There’s a reason why there are so many seals around it. Besides, I’d never carry something that would be dangerous to Kyrie or the kids.”

She’s lucky he knows that as anyone else would be receiving an ass-kicking right about now. However, that thought is quickly dismissed by her next words.

“But, uh, if you ever see me crack that open, just know we are in some deep shit. I only plan to use that in a do-or-die scenario. Honestly, I don’t even know if it works. It could be a dud for all I know.”

A last resort. Great…!

“How do you even think of this stuff?” He questions in disbelief. Skylar gives a derisive snort. 

“Could ask the same, ‘Mister Two-Barrel Revolver’. I can’t even fathom where that idea appeared from.”

“Hey, Nero. What’s this crate over here?”

He pauses from his work, looking in the direction of her voice. Staring at the dusty crate crammed in the corner of the garage, guilt and regret twist in his gut. A jolt of anger follows soon after, leaving a bitter taste and spurring him into action.

“Remember that hunter, Dante, I talked about?” Nero sighs as he walks over to the crate. Skylar nods as he fiddles with the latch.

“Well, what if I told you he was just like us? White hair, blue eyes, the whole shebang. The only thing he’s missing is the arm.”

Throwing open the lid reveals the looping letters of a neon sign buried in packing material. Nero remembers the day when Morrison had shown up and delivered it. He hated to admit it, but he had been ecstatic at the idea of working with the older hunter. But, when Nero had called to thank the guy, he had only received a half-assed remark before being hung up on. 

Yet, even after all this time, it’s still bittersweet to look at. 

“Devil May Cry?” Skylar questions. She brushes away a layer of the soft packing material to get a better look. 

“Yeah,” Nero shrugs. “The name of the old man’s shop. Don’t know the story behind it but Morrison always hinted it meant something more.” 

“What’s so special about this guy? Other than being another half-demon, that is. Do you think…” Skylar hesitates a moment. “Do you think he’s related to you or something?”

Nero’s lips draw into a thin line. 

“I don’t know.” He admits. He had never asked, for what reason he does not know. Maybe he was afraid of the answer, whatever it may be. Or maybe there was something else, something deeper that he didn’t even understand. 

“What I do know is that he cropped up during the Savior attack, shot Sanctus in the head at point-blank range, and stirred up so much shit that it’s still being cleaned up to this day. But he also saved Kyrie and me from the Savior. He’s the one who gave me Yamato.”  

That garners some surprise.

“Really? I never knew that part. I thought you found it in Agnus’ lab.”

He had told her the majority of the story a few months after they had met, what happened in Agnus’ lab, Yamato repairing herself. But at the time, Dante had been a sore subject just as Credo was. However, looking back now, when wasn’t Dante a sore subject?

“I did, but that’s not the full story. Apparently, Yamato had a prior owner.”

Skylar raises an eyebrow.

“Let me guess, Dante didn’t give you any hints about who that may be?”

“Pretty much.” He answers bitterly. “All he said is that it had to ‘stay in the family’.” 

“He knows something. No one would drop something like that if they didn’t.”

“I know that.”

“Then why haven’t you confronted him?” She’s frustrated, but he knows it’s not directed toward him. “I know how important this sort of thing is to you. If he has the answers you’re looking for, asking him would be your best bet.”

“I’ve tried. Fucking hell knows I’ve tried!” He bristles. For once, it’s nice having someone who shares his frustration. “But if it wasn’t him deflecting at every moment, he just doesn't pick up the phone. And now Morrison says he’s out of town and no one can get a hold of him and….”

“Do you think Morrison is in on it?”

Her question earns her a scoff.

“Wouldn’t be surprised. From what I’ve heard, those two are surprisingly buddy-buddy.”

For a moment, Skylar goes silent before squaring her shoulders. Defiance etches her feature.

“You know what? Screw him. He’s not worth your time.”

Skylar’s declaration takes him by surprise.

“Seriously? Even with the chance he could be my father? Hell, your father?”

“Lived twenty years without him, can live another twenty just fine.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be an ass, let him. Either he’ll come around or not. I have achieved more in life than I thought I was going to anyways. Anything else will just be icing on the cake. We’ll figure out another way if we have to.”

It’s impossible to hide his doubt.

“If you say so…”

“I know so.” She insists with confidence he has not seen from her before. “If we work together, nothing will be able to stop us.”

Her sudden determination is infectious, and it’s impossible for Nero to fight the hope blooming in his chest.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll find a way.”

Chapter Text

Their presence garners glances from a few wary passersby’s as Skylar strides beside him, easily keeping his pace. Every once in a while, her eyes dart to a person who wanders a bit too close and silently observes them. Nero was starting to understand why she didn’t like big crowds. He hates that some of her paranoia has rubbed off on him since Legion’s attack.

The crowds begin to thin as they move away from downtown, leaving behind the afternoon rush.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this.” Skylar suddenly comments. Her posture has loosened now being away from the main street. Idly she adjusts the cap covering some of her eye-catching hair.

Nero shrugs.

“Can’t say no to easy cash. I mean, as long as my name’s not in that article, what’s the harm?”

“No one can find you if you don’t have a trail. And somehow, this guy found you. Could be a trap for all we know.”

“Which is why I brought you along. Trust me Sky, I’ve got this. I’ll answer a few questions, maybe grab a drink, and we’ll be out of there.” 

She nods, despite looking unconvinced. Ever since the fight against Legion, Nero notices she’s much more on edge, teetering on the point of paranoia. The week that followed had been eventful, consisting of countermeasures upon countermeasures. Nero had never planned so much in his life.

For “just in case” she had said. The six-month mark was swiftly approaching and they were no closer to finding a way to eradicate the relentless hive mind.

He slows his step, eyeing the bustling bar across the street. A Friday evening, it seemed as if this was the best place in the city of Tyche to kick off the weekend. 

“Why do all these people want to meet in bars? Seriously, it’s always a bar.” Skylar mutters under her breath before she turns to him. 

“Alright, you remember the plan, right? I go in, scope out the place for anything funky, and then you do your interview thing.”

Nero sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. This is, what, the third time we’ve been over this?”

“Again, can’t be too careful. We need to make we have an exit strategy if shit hits the fan.”

“Which I doubt it will because it’s literally just an interview.”

“But do we know that for sure?” She presses. “For all we know it could be a ruse. I mean there could—”

Placing a hand on her shoulder stops her from rambling. He makes sure she looks him in the eye.

“I get it. You’re freaked out about Legion. And you have a right to be, but things are different now. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. It’ll be fine. Just relax.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but her sudden nervousness is making him jittery. It was a bit strange how the reporter found him, a part of him questioning if this was a good idea as well. But he had already accepted the meeting and if everything went well, it could mean new opportunities in the form of a run-down van Kyrie had found for sale.

Skylar takes a deep breath. 

“No, you’re right. Sorry, just, it’s a lot.”

She receives a sympathetic nod.

“Look, it’s good that you care, there’s nothing wrong with that. Just don’t worry yourself sick.” He soothes. 

“Yeah, that’s easier said than done. But you’re right.” She pauses a moment, a mischievous glimmer suddenly appearing in her eye. “Which honestly I thought was something impossible.”

Nero scoffs at the verbal jab. 

“Oh shut up and go do your thing!” He gives her a quick jab in the arm and a light shove toward the bar. Nero shakes his head as she walks away, not missing her shit-eating grin despite rubbing her probably bruised arm.

“Geez, this is what I get for being nice.” He grumbles, before pulling out his phone to kill some time.

Fifteen minutes later, his phone pings with a message.

Sky : Clear. Guy in the back wearing a button-up and glasses. Can’t miss him.

Pocketing his phone, Nero swiftly crosses the street, ducking into a nearby crowd. It’s to his surprise that realizes he has a chance at blending in with the patrons, many of them college students, sporting loud and unusual hair colors. For once, he doesn’t feel like the odd one out. He allows himself to enjoy that feeling before striding forwards with the stream of people.

Walking through the door, Nero gives a cursory glance around the room, taking note of the dense population. A sports channel plays on one of the big flat screens in the back, a gang of tipsy fans hashing it out on which team was better. Looking to the back of the bar, a scruffy-looking man in his early thirties sits quietly, contrasting the chaotic energy. Nero immediately pins the guy as his contact. 

As he makes his way over to him, Nero scans the rest of the area for Skylar. He knew she would stay close by, her curiosity being one of the main reasons. Much to his surprise, she is nowhere to be seen.

“You Jeffery Turner?” He asks unprompted. The man jumps at his sudden intrusion. 

“Yes, yes I am. And you must be Nero. Thanks for agreeing to speak with me.”

The reporter holds out his hand but quickly falters when Nero pointedly sits down across from him. Folding his hands in front of him, the bandages covering his Devil Bringer shift. Nero leans forward.

“I want to set a couple of ground rules before we start.” He states, unrelenting in his glare. “First, my name is not to be attached to this. Got it? Fortuna is… finicky with this sort of stuff getting out. That, and I like my anonymity. Second, I want half my payment up front.” 

The reporter gawks. 

“What?! You can’t be serious!” 

“No cash, no story.” He continues to receive skepticism. “I don’t know you and yet here I am. Call it a sign of goodwill.”

Begrudgingly, the man scribbles out a check and slides it across the table, which Nero carefully pockets.

“Alright, last thing,” Nero states. “If I say a topic is off limits, it’s off limits. No exceptions.”

That garners another slew of grumbles and dirty looks, but eventually, the reporter relents, knowing he was his best and only lead. When he receives a nod, Nero leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

He’s very vague on anything regarding Sanctus or the Savior itself, only giving the reporter snippets to sate his curiosity. Many times, Turner attempts to dig deeper, slipping a spare question that would crack the dialogue wide open. But Nero is cautious, knowing what the reporter is attempting to do. Anytime he has a hard time, he simply shoots the man a frigid glare. 

It’s surprisingly effective. 

Every once in a while, Nero scans the bar, looking for his younger counterpart. He spots her halfway through the interview, leaning against the wall, melding in with a bunch of students playing darts. It’s surprising how well she fits in with them, the lack of her signature leather jacket and the cap over her white hair making her look almost… mundane. She gives him a small wave before turning away as if he never saw her.

To both his relief and surprise, the rest of the interview goes smoothly. While there are moments he has to redirect the conversation once more, it’s not long before he has the rest of his pay and the reporter his story.

“I have to say, I wish all my interviews were this simple. Usually, I have to do a good amount of footwork to get the information I need.” Turner shakes his head. “That Will-o'-Wraith story up in Robindale better be worth it.”

From across the room, Skylar’s head shoots up from her phone and she turns to not so subtly listen to their conversation. Her sudden intrigue is hard to miss, Nero sensing her overwhelming excitement thrumming from her magic. 

“So what? This Will-o'-Wraith a big deal or something?” He asks, unable to curb his own curiosity. Turner shrugs.

“That’s what I aim to find out. Around four years ago this thing shows up out of nowhere. At first, the locals thought it was just some kids lighting off some fireworks in the woods, but there was never any evidence. There was the lack of noise and debris, but that wasn’t what got people asking questions.”

“Then what did?”

“Ranger was out one night after some reports of a bear attack. But instead of a bear, he found something much stranger. Apparently, he saw something like a ghost, wreathed in flames. Became the town’s very own urban legend, brought a crap load of tourism too. But in the last year or so the sightings have completely stopped. No one knows why.”

Nero could guess someone who did.

It’s not long after that they say their farewells, Nero exiting the bar and walking onto the street with no issue. He knows Skylar is close behind, having lost sight of her after hearing everything about the supposed Will-o'-Wraith. Sure enough, half a block away, Skylar meets up with him again, a pep in her step that reflects his current mood. This had to be one of the easiest jobs he had ever taken. 

Halfway to the bus stop, Skylar still buzzes with some unknown excitement. His curiosity once again gets the better of him and Nero finally caves. 

“Alright, spill.” He says. To his surprise, the fiery devil hunter does a short and excited dance. If he wasn’t so intrigued he would have laughed at the action. 

“I’m a freaking cryptid!” She exclaims, waving her arms. No one is around to overhear them. “People are literally writing posts about sightings of me and I haven’t done anything! This is the funniest thing I’ve heard in years!”

Nero laughs.

“So that was you! How the hell did that happen?” Nero had to admit, it was pretty great. He never had considered the possibility, they themselves could become some sort of myth, just like the creatures they hunted. 

Skylar grins ear to ear.

“Robindale was the last town I stayed in before moving to Fortuna,” Skylar explains as they continue to walk. “Faked an address and worked in another construction site to earn enough for a place. It was so out in the boonies that it was hard for Legion to find useable pawns, and the cold slowed down any demons up there, other than the Frosts. Absolutely hated it, but it worked.”

“But demons always end up snooping about…”

“So of course I dispatched them like usual.” She nods. “But because not a lot happens there, stuff like that gets local attention really easily. And well, my magic isn’t the most, um, subtle of things.”

“Yeah. No shit.”

He receives a quick punch in the arm, nothing hard, but enough to sting a bit. 

“What was that for?! You know I’m telling the truth!”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to rub it in!”

Sky: Hey, u might want to take a look at this.

Sky : Tap to view link.

Unlocking his phone Nero stares at the two messages in trepidation. He hits the link, only to wince when he looks at the top of the article. There, an old picture of himself stands atop some wreckage from during the Savior attack. Lucky for him, it’s a black and white photo, grainy as all shit, the photographer having to ditch any advanced digital technology. Such technology had a tendency to have problems in supernatural hotspots, hence the film.

It didn’t give his identity away completely, his face obscured by his hood, the camera struggling to catch any crisp details. However, for those who look closely enough, it would be easy to identify Red Queen on his back, the tuft of snowy hair loose from the hood. He’s already preparing for the ill will some of Fortuna’s citizens are bound to direct toward him. At least the reporter had kept his word and didn’t use his name. 

Still, looking at the photo is surreal. A glimpse into the past that drifts between eternity and a moment ago. It unsettles him for some reason and not for the reason he would have expected. The damage had already been done, the article posted for all to read. He mulls it over for the majority of the day, eventually ending up on the couch to think.

Nero hears her steps the moment she walks from the kitchen to the living room. Carefully sitting next to him, Kyrie rests her hand atop his. 

“You’re brooding.” She states, her expression a tad pinched with worry. Nero chuckles softly.

“Isn’t that supposed to be attractive?” 

“To some, yes, but you have such a wonderful smile.” Kyrie snuggles against his side. “No amount of brooding will replace that.”

Her compliment does garner a smile. Still, she continues to give him a worried look. 

“So, what’s on your mind?”

With a quiet sigh, Nero wordlessly hands her his phone, still open to the article. Kyrie stares at it for a moment, humming in understanding.

“Well, at least it doesn’t show your face. I know you were concerned about that.” She tilts her head. “But there’s more to it I imagine.”

Nero gives a small shrug.

“I don’t know. Just looking at that photo, it just feels like looking at an entirely different person. So much has changed.”

“You’ve grown Nero, just as we all have. Older, wiser. There’s nothing wrong in that.”

“Hopefully a bit wiser.” He jokes before thinking over her words. “Heh, no, I guess not, huh?”

Still, he doesn’t know how to fight this strange feeling within him, weighing on him in both mind and body. He only thinks of the idea when his bangs tickle his eyelashes.

Nero runs his fingers to the longer locks, mulling his sudden plan over in his head. He had initially grown them in defiance of the Order’s strict rules, especially when it came to physical appearance. But now, they didn’t feel right, didn’t reflect the person he had become. He had tried to style it differently at one point, sweeping the unruly hair back. It had only taken him a few seconds of looking in the mirror to brush it down again, the prim and proper style much too formal. If he was honest, it made him look entirely different. 

Nero smirks.

“Hey, how do you feel about cutting hair?”

Running his head under the gushing shower he can hear Kyrie busying herself around the bathroom. By the time he exits, wringing out some of the sopping locks, she has a space cleared and a stool for him to sit in. He sits down, taking the towel offered to him with thanks before wrapping it around his shoulders.

Her nimble fingers brush through his hair, her short nails gently scratching the top of his scalp. A brush follows soon after, Kyrie using it to carefully comb out the stray knots and smooth out the still-damp locks. The sensation races down his spine, uncoiling the tension the day had brought. Nero leans deeper into the touch, tilting his head back and nuzzling her hand. 

Kyrie giggles at his antics. 

“As much as I love seeing you this relaxed, you’re going to have to hold still if you want an even cut.” She cautions. Nonetheless, she brushes away some of his bangs, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before brushing them back into place. The urge to stand and return the tender gesture is almost overwhelming.

“You torture me meadowlark.” He murmurs, to which he receives a coy smile. 

He sits up again, holding still in his seat, and fights the strong urge to fidget. Nero idly taps his fingers to stave off the impulse as Kyrie pins the necessary locks up and out of the way, brushing down the excess hair with utmost precision. A soft metallic hiss whispers next to his ear as Kyrie angles her scissors for a precise cut, pulling his hair taut beneath her fingers.

She hesitates, the blades hovering over the locks. 

“It’s gonna look great,” Nero promises, remaining still. His eyes flick up to her without turning his head and he gives her a reassuring smile. “I trust you. Always have, always will.”

Snip!

The snowy hairs drift down onto the tile floor. They are soon followed by a breathy laugh. 

“Hopefully you still do after I’m finished,” Kyrie admits, carefully snipping another lock. Her movements are bolder after the initial cut. “I am no barber.”

Carefully she works, her soft humming echoing against the porcelain of the nearby tub. His sensitive hearing picks up every note, the pitch weaving the delicate song to a heavenly effect. Nero allows himself to simply sit and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, soaking in Kyrie’s affectionate touch.

Time passes and his eyelids grow heavy with sleep from the impromptu pampering. A soft rumble reverberates through the cramped space as Kyrie runs her fingers through his hair once more. It takes her to pause her ministrations for him to realize where the sound is coming from. Deep within his chest, the sound rises and falls with every breath. Nero freezes, heat flushing his cheeks as he connects what it means. 

Holy shit! There was no fucking way…!

He ducks his head and scratches the bridge of his nose, now fully awake from the realization. People didn’t purr, it just wasn’t a thing that happened. And while he was starting to accept the whole part-demon thing a lot more in the last year, the noise reminded him of how not human he was. A part of him wants to flee, haircut be damned but…

“I’m glad to hear that you’re enjoying yourself,” Kyrie comments fondly, stroking her fingers through his hair again. To his despair, the purring starts up again almost immediately. “You deserve some time to unwind.”

His cheeks grow hotter, at which Kyrie giggles.

“It’s cute.” She assures. A peck on his cheek and the rumble only grows louder. “And besides, it helps me fall asleep every night.”

His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Wait, did that mean this wasn’t the first time?! Did he fucking purr in his sleep?!

However, before he can ask his burning question, she smooths out the now short locks atop his head and dusts away any stray hairs still sticking to him.

“I will admit, I do somewhat miss the long hair.” Kyrie comments. "But I think this suits you just as well.” 

She gestures at the mirror, which Nero stands and faces. Staring at his reflection, it takes him a moment to digest his sudden change in appearance. While it’s still recognizably him reflected back, he takes note of how different he looks. He looks older, he realizes, his nose and jaw sharper without the bangs framing his face. His eyes stand out more, now clear of any wild strands. 

He looks older in a way he doesn’t mind.

It’s the end of an era.

“Well…?”

Turning to face her, he pulls her into a hug; his Devil Bringer glowing gold, as if she was meant for his embrace. Nuzzling his jaw against her neck, he gives her an affectionate kiss.  

“You did an amazing job. Thank you.”

Kyrie hums happily, curling deeper into his embrace. They sit like that for some time before Kyrie suddenly pulls away.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She exclaims. “Wait here a moment, would you? I need to get something.”

Before he can say anything, Kyrie rushes out of the bathroom. Although confused, he waits there patiently, still inspecting the strangeness of his new cut. She quickly returns, peeking her head through the doorway. 

“Alright, close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Nero raises an eyebrow.

“No looking!” She insists.

He chuckles at her adamant request but makes sure to keep his eyes screwed shut. A box is placed in his outstretched hand.

His heart jumps to his throat. 

Wait! Hold on!

“Alright, you can open them now.” Kyrie chirps.

His eyes fly open and he can’t help but feel a mixture of relief and disappointment. Instead of a small square box, a sleek rectangular box, fixed with a dark blue ribbon sits in his hand. He loosens his jaw after not noticing he had been clenching it. While he wanted nothing more than to marry the woman before him, he was still having problems finding the courage to ask her. Then there was the part of his subconscious that whispered all sorts of doubt in his mind. 

He was just waiting for the right time, he lies to himself.

Glancing up at Kyrie, she nods a bit hesitantly. She swings between the balls of her feet to her heels. 

Tugging the ribbon loose, he carefully opens the box. He stares in awe at the silver pendant resting on the box’s blue velvet. Two delicate silver wings encircle a crimson gemstone. It glistens, reflecting the light from his Devil Bringer. A sturdy leather cord attaches at the top. 

“Kyrie, this is… it’s amazing. I don’t know what to say….”

His stomach churns. Just by the material alone, he can tell it was expensive.

“You didn’t have to spend your money on me. You do enough for me already.” 

Kyrie shakes her head.

“I wanted to Nero. After everything we have been through together, I wanted to give you something that symbolized how much you mean to me. And look! We match now!”

Fishing the gold chain out from her blouse, between her fingers dangles the pendant he had bought for her all those years ago. It meant so much to him that she wore it every day.

He’d have to make sure to do the same.

“That we do.” He laughs, pulling her in for another hug. This time, he doesn’t fight the deep purr threatening to escape.

By now the clearing is a second home to him, a sanctuary to many memories born of clashing swords and battle-eager spirits. He hops over the fallen tree from a few months ago, striding into the open area without hesitation. Even without the sudden gasp from the treetops, Nero pinpoints Skylar perched in an old, gnarled oak a short distance away.

“Holy shit your hair!” She exclaims. Swinging her dangling legs a few more times, she eventually hops down. “Finally you don’t look like you have a mop on your head!”

Nero can feel his eye twitch with his evident annoyance. Literally a minute in and she’s already taunting him. Unbelievable. 

“Skylar, I swear, I am ready to punt you.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

“Well, maybe you’ll have a chance, now that you can see.”

He glares at her and she stares back, the air growing tense with their sudden standoff. And…

Skylar bolts. 

Fuc—!

“Skylar, stop running!” He yells, chasing after her. That little shit!

“No way!”

“Get back here!”

Eventually, after almost a half-hour chase, and an impromptu spar, she does admit she likes his hair.

Chapter Text

Kyle hates math homework. 

Well, he hates homework in general, everyone in his class did, but there was something especially evil about math. What? He did not know, but Kyle couldn’t help but feel as if it were a punishment despite doing nothing wrong… yet.

And Julio was no help. 

You would think that someone a grade older than you would be able to answer any mathematical mysteries, but that would be wrong. It also didn’t help that Julio was horrible at explaining things. Not that it was an issue. He knew exactly who to ask instead. 

With his dreaded math homework in hand, Kyle heads for the garage. Even before he opens the door he can hear the clunking of heavy components, Nero having most likely disassembled some part of Red Queen’s motor. While he was there to ask a question, he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to sneak a peek at the awesome sword. Kyle cracks open the door to see Nero hunched over the workbench, adjusting some mechanical… thing. His head bobs to some muffled tune, a pair of headphones covering his ears. Nero and Kyrie had warned him on entering the garage if he was working, something about hazards or whatever, so he calls from the doorway.

“Hey Nero, do you know anything about fractions?

Of anyone he could ask for help, he was glad Nero was one of them. Despite what some people used to say at the orphanage, Nero was really good at explaining stuff. He was also really smart when it came to math. Kyle didn’t know how he did fractions so fast, being faster at solving them than his teacher. He had counted, because what else was there to do in class?

Despite the blaring music, Nero looks up from his work, pausing whatever song he was listening to and draping the headphones around his neck. 

“School giving you grief again?” He asks sympathetically, spying the homework packet in his hand. 

Kyle nods, knowing it’s safe to enter the garage. 

“Yeah, Julio was no help at all.” He sighs. Nero lets out an amused chuckle.

“Hey, cut him some slack. He had a hard time with this stuff too. Gotta remember everyone has sh- stuff that they're good at.”

While Nero wasn’t completely wrong, it didn’t help that Julio was a bit of a know-it-all. Or well… maybe a know-it-all wasn’t the right word, but he always got really defensive if he was wrong about something. Like he had to be the best at everything no matter what. It made talking with him really hard and it frustrated him sometimes. 

The light scratch of metal against concrete draws his attention. Nero pats the stool now pulled out next to him. Red Queen and its parts have been moved safely to the wayside.

“C’mon, hop up. Let’s walk through it together and see what’s got you confused.”

Kyle stashes his thoughts away for later, eagerly clamoring to sit at the workbench. It always felt so cool to be surrounded by all the equipment and machinery. Julio always seemed to find the magic stuff that Miss Sky worked with more interesting. It was cool, and Miss Sky was definitely cool, but it was still a lot of old books and writing, which, he felt like he did enough of every day at school. And well, Carlo wasn’t old enough to really understand any of it yet so Kyle had no clue what he liked. 

It takes them around an hour for them to work through all the problems. There are times Kyle is nervous he’s wasting Nero’s time, especially when he asks the same question over again. But Nero is patient, never making him feel stupid or disregarding his questions. If anything, Kyle feels as if he learns more, especially with Nero finding cool new ways to explain stuff to him. At one point, his foster dad snags a bunch of measuring cups, places them on the table and uses them to visually explain the problem he’s stumped on. They eventually make a game out of it, seeing who can solve each other’s questions faster. 

Nero wins the majority of the time, but Kyle doesn’t care. Never in his life would he imagine math could be fun!

His homework done, Kyle asks if he can stay and watch the man work, which to his surprise and glee, Nero agrees to. A quick dash upstairs allows him to retrieve his beloved tub of LEGOs. It’s not long before the two of them are working on their respective projects side by side in peace.

That is until Nero suddenly flinches. At first, Kyle thinks he nicked his hand on a part of the motor, having been poking around the sword’s engine. But to Kyle’s confusion, his hand flies to his forearm, his human hand hovering over the tough scales of his elbow. 

“Nero, you okay?”

He doesn’t get an immediate answer, Nero evidently caught off guard by the mysterious flash of pain. Unclenching his jaw, the man carefully turns his arm as if inspecting it for any sort of damage. Kyle can’t pick anything out of the ordinary.

“Nero?”

Nero sends him a reassuring smile, but Kyle doesn’t miss the slight wince behind it. Why did adults always try to hide it when they weren’t okay?

“I’m good bud, I’m good.” He waves him off. “Probably just an old injury acting up. Just caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

As if nothing happened, Nero turns back to working on Red Queen, leaving him to continue to fiddle with his LEGOs. Every once in a while, he looks up from the plastic pieces, watching his foster dad try to ignore the evident discomfort in his right arm. Eventually, the pain seems to fade, the two of them returning to working in the easy rhythm they had before.

That is until Nero raises his head, his expression hardening at some unseen threat.

“Hey Kyle, mind chilling here a moment? Forgot something in the house.”

Kyle nods, not missing how Nero squares his shoulders before marching out of the garage. That look usually meant one thing.

Nero was getting ready for action.

He waits a minute or so before rushing into the house. Of course, he’s not going to wait there! If Nero was going to go and fight demons he wanted to see! It was rare he had ever seen him in action, outside of training in the backyard.

“Long time no see kitty cat.” He hears Nero jeer from outside. Kyle locates him in the front yard and watches him from the window.“What’s got you so close to the city?” 

Peeking around the curtains, Kyle stares at the panther stalking the fence line. It’s around the size of a large dog, and from its intelligent ruby eyes, Kyle knows it has to be a demon. Nero doesn’t seem phased when the demon roars at him, baring its gleaming fangs. He watches in amazement as the man casually leans on the fence, easily conversing with it.

“What, here for another ass-kicking?” Nero scoffs, starting to sound annoyed. Kyle realizes he has Blue Rose on his belt. “You’ve got a lot to learn, kitty. But that still doesn’t excuse the sudden interruption.”

To his surprise, the demon roars again, this time it sounds almost… distressed. Nero seems confused by it as well.

“What are you…?”

Too focused on the strange exchange, Kyle misses Kyrie behind him.

“Kyle? What are you looking at?” She asks, making him jump. He panics when she goes to look out the window and tries to block her view. Admittedly, he’s not exactly sure of what to say. For one, he doesn’t want to lie to Kyrie, especially if this was actually dangerous. But on the other hand….

“Uh… nothing…?”

Kyrie peeks around him, a slight frown settling on her expression. He shifts nervously when she sends him a frosty look.

“Kyle, that doesn’t look like nothing.” She reprimands. The look melts quickly, and she sighs. “I thought we’d been over this.” 

“But it’s a panther! A demon panther! How can I not want to see?!”

She sighs shaking her head. Ready to continue her lecture she’s interrupted when her phone rings. Sliding it out from a pocket in her skirt, she seems ready to dismiss the caller. However, much to Kyle’s surprise, she stops, her thumb hovering over the screen. A flash of emotion that he can’t quite place dawns on her face and she quickly taps the glass.

“Hello?” She answers, her brow scrunching in confusion as the person on the other side of the line speaks. Kyrie tilts to look outside again.

“No, he’s outside. There’s a demon outside the warding, a panther with red eyes. Is it one of yours?”

There’s a response that Kyle can quite hear. Kyrie’s frown deepens. 

“Okay, hold on I’ll get him.”

She taps the glass screen again, most likely muting the call. 

“We are going to talk about this later. Understand?” Kyle stiffly nods, to which Kyrie sighs again. Carefully she dips down and kisses the crown of his head. “You’re not in trouble, but I’m worried about you. Demons are dangerous and you know that. Now please keep that in mind and stay here while I go and sort this out.”

Kyrie slips out the door, a hurry in her step that worries him. Kyle cracks the door open so he can eavesdrop on the ensuing conversation.

“Skylar, I put you on speaker. Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear Kyrie.” Skylar’s voice crackles through the receiver. Although a bit away, she sounds noticeably tired. “So that’s where Hemera ran off to.”

So that’s who called….

“Didn’t think they liked to travel this far in.” Nero comments, crossing his arms. “ Hell, thought you had a rule about that.”

“When have they ever listened to me? Especially Hermera. So it’s really no—“

Skylar pauses. 

“Look! See?!” She suddenly exclaims. “I called him, he’s on the phone! Can you stop bugging me now?! Geez, you’re such a mother hen, no wonder you’re kids had such a rebellious phase. Ow! Hey!”

“Skylar, what’s going on?” Kyrie interrupts whatever chaos is occurring on the other end of the line. “Are you alright?”

“Uh…”

There’s a deep growl, one that Kyle recognizes is from Fenrir. The panther demon, Hemera, seems to share his sentiments. Kyle doesn’t hear what’s said next, the answer too low for his ears to catch. However, he knows it’s bad when Nero tenses. 

“I’m not blaming you. I just….” Nero sighs. “Hold on a minute.”

For the second time that day, Kyle freezes as he’s met with another stern glare. And while Kyrie’s was indeed frightening, Nero’s was bone-chilling. 

But what should he expect? The man fought demons after all. 

“Back inside Kyle.” He commands. “You’re on thin ice.”

Knowing trying anything else would be pushing his luck, Kyle makes a hasty exit. When he closes the door, he finally notices Julio standing behind him, quietly observing him. 

“What’d you do now?” The older boy questions. Kyle rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything. I was just listening.”

“Sure you were.” Julio replies doubtfully, but Kyle doesn’t miss his sudden spark of curiosity. “Well if you were listening, then what’d they say? Was it something important?”

Kyle hesitates, not fond of the idea of giving away his coveted secret information. He knew something Julio didn’t, which he wanted to enjoy as long as he could.

“Oh, I don’t know… but it sounded really cool. Like super awesome… and stuff.”

He doesn’t know what to expect, but certainly not Julio rolling his eyes at his mysterious statement and immediately walking away. To be suddenly ignored like that causes him to flounder. 

“Okay! It was something about Miss Sky and there’s this weird cat demon outside and—!“

The door behind him opens, just as he’s about to spin his tale. Nero holds the door open for Kyrie as he addresses them.

“I’m heading out in a bit. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be gone, but hopefully, I’ll be back before dinner. If I’m not, I’d appreciate it if you helped Kyrie in the kitchen. It’s important to pitch in.”

Wait, then that meant!

“But I don’t wanna stay home!” Kyle is quick to protest. “Miss Sky sounded like she needed help! It’s not fair!”

While he doesn’t have a convincing argument to join Nero on his trip, there’s no way he’s going to back down that easily, despite the now very impatient expression on the man’s face. Kyle realizes he may have just crossed a line. To his surprise, the unlikeliest hero comes to his rescue.

“Nero, wouldn’t it be better if we all came with you?” Julio suggests. “Then Kyrie can help too.” 

Kyle stares at Julio in disbelief but continues to keep quiet. Huh, he was helping him for once. That was new. 

Nero seems to contemplate his suggestion for a moment before looking at Kyrie. Searching for what seems to be silent approval, after some sort of unspoken conversation, Nero shakes his head.

“Fine.” Nero relents. Kyle is just about to celebrate when Nero raises a finger to silence him. “On one condition. If anything weird happens, you have to do exactly what Kyrie or I say. No exceptions. Understand?”

The serious tone extinguishes some of his good mood but he still nods, eager to get going. Nero’s doubt is unmissable. 

“Go and pack your stuff. We’re probably going to end up staying the night.”

The words hardly have left his mouth and Kyle is already at the base of the stairs.

“Sleepover at Miss Sky’s?!” He crows. “Heck yeah!”

“I already regret this.” Nero grumbles as Kyle races up the stairs. A grin spreads on the boy’s face, too excited to care. 

When they exit the house, Kyle watches in wonder as Hemera plods next to Nero’s side as he walks the fence line, inspecting some unseen border. Finally catching sight of them, the devil hunter shoots the demonic panther a pointed look, to which she flattens her ears as she sits patiently by his side. Guess he’s not the only one who was in trouble….

They catch the bus from the house to the outskirts of the city. Hemera disappears into the woods before they depart. As Kyle sits at his seat at the window, the buildings flying by in a blur of ivory stone and tile roofs, he spots something racing the bus from above. That something leaps across the rooftops, keeping an easy pace. Her dark coat blending seamlessly with the long afternoon shadows, Hemera disappears at a moment’s notice. Every so often when he spots the demon, he sends her an enthusiastic wave, to which Julio scoffs. But Kyle doesn’t care, especially when the Shadow jumps with equal enthusiasm at the next stop sign. To his disappointment, Nero tells him to stop after a few adults look up to see who he’s waving at. 

It doesn’t stop him from making funny faces at the demon, who he knows can see him. 

Their subsequent walk is also relatively uneventful, other than for Kyle’s newfound friend butting up against his side, chirping happily as they hike the beaten trail. Many times she races ahead, looking back expectantly for him to chase after her. But knowing that he is already in trouble with his foster parents, Kyle resists the urge to follow. After her fourth attempt, she gives up with a huff, slowing to walk with him. 

The familiar sight of Miss Sky’s house quickly comes into view, the cottage tucked away in the dense foliage of the woods. Flowers of all shapes and colors bloom in the planter boxes lining the windows, bees happily buzzing in their continuous search for nectar. Birds quietly chirp in the trees, flitting around in the afternoon sun. The air smells cleaner being so far from the city, a quiet that even he doesn’t mind. 

And yet, Nero is strung taut, almost agitated, enough so that Kyrie gives him a worried glance. A hulking form sits patiently near the front door, one which Kyle recognizes as Fenrir. He’s surprised that the wolf doesn’t come prancing towards them as he usually does, his normally happy-go-lucky attitude disturbingly absent. The demon tips his head in greeting before giving Hemera a scathing look. She shrinks behind Kyle to try and escape the critical stare. 

The door is unlocked to Kyle’s surprise and Nero pushes it open without stopping to knock. They enter the silent house, Kyrie telling them to take off their shoes at the doorway. Kyle looks around at the cluttered space, eyeing the rustic-looking furniture, much of it things he imagines were discovered and restored. There are so many plants, some lining the nearby bookshelf, others on some shelves lining the wall. Ivy drapes over the deep sill of a reading nook, the pile of cushions spotted with tufts of dark fur. It’s cozy in a different way than he’s used to. While home was warm and welcoming, smelling of freshly baked bread and fresh laundry, Miss Sky’s house felt… magical. Like something from a fairy tale, like the ones Kyrie reads at night. 

The feline demons lounging on various pieces of furniture only adds to the whimsy, curious blue and gold eyes inspecting their new guests. From Nero’s earlier explanation, Kyle assumes those are Aether and Dolos, Hemera’s brothers. Fenrir growls something, the Shadows suddenly standing at attention. Only then does Kyle realize Nero has not removed his boots, looking down at Fenrir in silent question. 

“Nyx still with her?” He asks, to which, Fenrir nods towards the back door. Nero returns the nod, before leaning over to Kyrie to give her a quick peck on the cheek. While Kyle is disgusted by the kiss, he can tell Julio is too, the sudden serious atmosphere catches him off guard. He distracts himself by unpacking his bag but still listens to Nero’s next words.

“I’ll be back in a few. Hold tight.”

“Be careful.” Kyrie stresses. 

A soft click, and the fading crunch of gravel signals Nero’s departure. Fenrir doesn’t follow, instead wandering to Julio’s side, resting his head on his lap. His foster brother quietly sits and reads. Kyle plops onto the couch, idly swinging his legs as Kyrie busies around, setting up a space for Carlo to nap. The Shadow named Aether follows her, curiously staring at the toddler in her arms. When she eventually settles him down, Aether sits in the corner, still watching. Kyrie seems to keep a wary eye on the Shadow even as she tucks him under the blanket. Kyle was still amazed how Carlo could sleep through everything that’s happened. Especially with it being so exciting!

Nero’s gone for a solid amount of time, boredom quickly setting in. Hemera sits with him, her long tail swishing in shared annoyance. 

At least he’s not the only one.

Kyle flops over on the cushion, to stare at Julio still engrossed in his book. 

“Why don’t you wanna go and see?!” He asks. If anyone says he sounds whiny, they’re lying. “Nero and Miss Sky could be fighting demons for all we know and…!”

Julio gives him a sharp glare, silencing him.

“No, you don’t want to see that. I don’t want to see that.”

His words hold a chilling amount of finality and Kyle’s about to bug him on why when he hears the back door open again. 

Nero appears in the doorway, looking very annoyed. Like the annoyed when he found him climbing on the kitchen countertops that one time. Kyrie later told him it was because Nero was really worried, even though he seemed mad. Scanning the room, Nero eventually looks to Kyrie who is gently petting Dolos’ ears.

“Hey, I’m gonna need some help. You mind?”

“Not at all.” She shuffles Dolos off her lap, to the demon’s despair, before addressing Julio and him. “We’ll only be outside, but we are going to be gone for a bit. I want you all to be on your best behavior. We are guests, so please be respectful.”

“And remember, no coming outside,” Nero adds. “If you guys need anything, tell Fenrir and he’ll come and get one of us. Got it?”

“Okay, Nero.” They chorus, Julio swiftly returning to his book. Kyle receives a warning look.

“I mean it, Kyle.” Nero cautions. “Fen, keep an eye on them.”

There’s a soft bark.

Kyle sighs, eventually succumbing to his boredom and walking around the house with Hemera in tow. When that eventually gets boring as well, he rummages through his backpack pulling out his sketchbook and markers. The red-eyed Shadow watches with interest over his shoulder. Kyle doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

Eventually, there’s some shouting from outside. Kyle knows it’s Nero and Miss Sky arguing, never having heard Nero or Kyrie raise their voices at each other like that before. It’s a quick argument, one which the demons in the room pause and listen to. It’s cut abruptly by the squeak of a hose faucet and the unmistakable sound of rushing water. 

There’s an annoyed squawk that sounds awfully like Miss Sky. 

A soft snort escapes Fenrir, followed by a deep chuff. They all look at the wolf in confusion, before the room breaks out in rapid chittering from the three Shadows. It takes Kyle a moment to realize they are laughing, a noise that sounds admittedly a bit strange. They continue to laugh at their own private joke before Kyrie enters again. She quickly retrieves a large, fluffy towel, but not before checking to see if they are alright. Kyle doesn’t miss the amused glimmer in her eye as she leaves again.

Not long after, the door swings open for what he hopes is the last time. They are greeted by a massive Shadow, easily double the size of Hemera and her brothers. Kyle guesses that’s the Shadow’s mom, Nyx, whom Nero had talked about earlier. Nyx plods next to Kyrie who holds the door open for those behind her. In casually strolls Nero, wearing the same amusement. The splatter of water droplets and the squeak of soaked socks follows close behind.

Why was she wearing her hood indoors? That was weird.

Wrapped in the towel from earlier, Miss Sky shuffles into the house. While he can’t see her face, her sudden pause tells that she was not expecting so much company.

“Oh wow, you brought the whole cavalry with you.” She gives them an awkward wave. “Uh, hi guys.”

After what felt like forever, Julio looks up from his book, eyes widening, worry crossing his face. 

“Miss Sky…? Are you…?” He questions, as if fearful to ask. While Kyle can’t see under the shadow of her hood, it doesn’t stop him from hearing the good-natured huff, although it does sound a bit strained.

“Uh, yeah. Just had some unexpected company. That’s all.” She clears her throat. Her posture shifts to something more carefree. Yet it feels forced, her shoulders tense under her towel cape. “Just gonna hit the shower and then we can watch a movie. I’ve been told you’ve never seen Mary Poppins before and we are changing that ASAP!”

And with that, she dramatically turns, her dripping towel fluttering in the air, before marching down a short hall. His foster parents share a short nod before Kyrie follows behind her, the bathroom door shutting quietly. Nero turns to them and claps his hands together. 

“Alright, who wants some grub?”

It’s been some time since Kyrie and Miss Sky had disappeared, so long that he’d finished two drawings in his sketchbook. Even Julio was starting to look bored at his book, fidgeting on the couch, his feet now hanging in the air as he reads upside down. From the kitchen, Nero starts cooking something that distinctly smells of eggs and bacon. While not as good of a cook as Kyrie, his foster dad always made killer breakfast food.

Julio only gives him a cursory glance, furrowing his brow as Kyle quietly slips off the couch. Tip-toeing, he stalks slowly enough that his footsteps stay at a lower volume than the sizzling pan. He’d gotten better at moving around silently, having to learn how to counter Nero’s very sensitive ears. It had taken about a year but he finally figured out that steady noise drowned out some of the man’s hearing to at least avoidable levels. As he sneaks along, Kyle ignores the red eyes attentively watching him from the couch. From what he can tell, Hemera was not about to blow his cover.

Slowly and silently, Kyle makes it down the hall, closer and closer to the bathroom door. Unnoticed, he rests an ear against the worn wood and listens. 

“—play with its food.” He hears Miss Sky grumble. Were they talking about demon hunting? Kyle adjusts his position near the door.

There’s a sharp hiss and a mumbled apology. 

“But it shouldn’t be that way. This is the fourth attack this year.” Kyrie points out. “I thought the seal was supposed to banish it for six months.”

“Guess it’s not as effective as I thought. Or at least anymore.“

There’s a sad sigh.

“It’s getting worse Kyrie. It was literally in my backyard. If Nyx hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have made it to the wards. I just….”

Squeak…!

The door creaks open, causing him to stumble forward. He doesn’t see much, Kyrie kneeling before Miss Sky, a partially unwrapped bandage in her gloved-clad hands. An ugly bruise marks Miss Sky’s temple and another across her jaw. Her head cradled in bandage-swathed hands, she looks… exhausted. Defeated. The stark white of the gauze slowly stains with red, matching the discarded medical supplies on the floor. 

That shouldn’t… that wasn’t…!

He’s met with tired tear stained blues, wide and fearful in a way he thought was impossible. For a moment Miss Sky stares at him, stunned by his sudden appearance.

“Oh…!” She finally whispers. 

In the past, Kyrie had made a rule that Nero wasn’t allowed to use his powers indoors. Something about breaking stuff. So when a spectral hand suddenly materializes above him, pulling the door shut, Kyle knows he’s seen something he wasn’t supposed to. He spins around to meet Nero’s stern glare.

“Hey! What’d I tell you about—?!”

But for once, getting in trouble is the last thing he’s worried about. His lip trembles as he looks up at him.

“N-Nero what happened to Miss Sky?” Was that… blood?

Nero shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to see.” Nero explains, exasperated. 

“But you fight demons!” Kyle exclaims undeterred. His voice cracks ever so slightly in his distress. “How could something hurt you?!”

They were supposed to be untouchable, the strongest, the best! They weren’t supposed to get hurt! Because if they got hurt, then they could…

…but all the red, the worry on Kyrie’s face…

…how scared Miss Sky looked. 

Tears streak down his cheeks as he realizes how much danger they’re in. How every time the phone rings with a new job, Nero might not come home. How he may never…!

Hands gently clasp his shoulders as Nero crouches down to obviously try to comfort him. 

“Hey bud, it’s alright.” He soothes, to which Kyle violently shakes his head.

No, it wasn’t alright! He shouldn’t be crying! He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t the one in danger! But he was scared. Was this why Julio never talked about when Miss Sky saved him?

Kyle doesn’t remember much about his dad, just that he was kind and brave like Nero. He remembers learning that his dad was a knight, someone who protected the innocent just like in Julio’s books. And he was proud that Nero protected people too, just like his dad used to do. 

Why wouldn’t he be proud? How couldn’t he? They were heroes.

But pride doesn’t matter if they’re gone. Pride doesn’t matter when you’re suddenly alone again.

“Please don’t fight demons anymore!” He begs. “Please! You can’t get hurt!”

You can’t leave me!

“Kyle…”

“Please, I’ll do all my chores. I’ll be good! I-I just…!”

You can’t die!

“Hey…” Nero hushes. In his eyes is a look of understanding that he had not expected. “Do you know why I fight? Even though I know it can be dangerous.”

Kyle shakes his head to which Nero gives a sad smile.

“Because if I didn’t, there’s more of a chance that you would get hurt. I care about you. All of you guys. I’d never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you.”

It had taken some time to get used to giving hugs again. The workers at the orphanage had felt distant in comparison to his dad, so much so that he’d given up after he had been scolded for being too clingy. But now, he clings to his foster dad like his world depends on it. It certainly does after four years of having him in his life.

“It’s not fair though!” He whines. The hug is carefully returned and Kyle holds on tighter.

“I know. I know… I can’t promise you I won’t get hurt. But what I will promise is that I will always be there for you, no matter what happens. No lousy demons will stop me from that. Capiche?” There’s a short break in his voice that is quickly replaced with steely resolve.

Could Nero be just as scared? But that couldn’t be true… right?

Nevertheless, Kyle nods and he pulls back to meet a soft smile.

“Good. Now let’s let Kyrie and Sky finish up. Dinner should almost be ready.”    

Kyle sits in their newly constructed blanket fort, furnished with a menagerie of pillows and sleeping bags. Fresh from his nap, Carlo watches the screen wide-eyed, the colorful setting and catchy song and dance holding his undivided attention. Even Julio, usually so caught up in his books, watches the movie with interest. Shifting his position in his sleeping bag, Hemera adjusts her spot next to him. She too watches the film, rumbling along to some of the musical numbers. 

Miss Sky had insisted on watching the movie with them, quickly eating her dinner and sitting down on the couch with the rest of the adults. However, it had not taken long for her to fall asleep about halfway through, slumping against Fenrir’s side, and snuggling into his fur. Instead of his usual snark, Nero seems relieved at her peaceful state, having quietly risen from his seat and snagged a blanket. It’s carefully draped over her, Fenrir shifting to pull the edges up higher. Nero returns to his spot next to Kyrie, plopping his head against her shoulder again. 

And for the rest of the night, it’s peaceful, a sense of belonging, of family. He easily goes to sleep, the tune of “Let’s Go Fly A Kite” playing cheerfully in his mind. 

Chapter Text

Metal creaks as Skylar lifts the sturdy frame of the broken-down van. She tilts it up enough for the left set of wheels to hover off the floor. They didn’t have a car jack yet, so this was what they were going to have to work with.

“You got it?” Nero asks, holding a borrowed lug wrench at the ready. The guys Skylar worked with were surprisingly chill. He’d have to thank them again later for loaning it to him. 

“Yeah, I got it. I got it. Just…” Skylar grunts, adjusting her grip. “Don’t take forever.”

Nero efficiently removes the lug nuts off of the van’s front wheel, removing the flat tire soon after. With a little bit of finagling, he eventually pops the new tire into place. He does the same with the back tire, tightening the last lug nut before giving Skylar the signal to set the van down. Carefully, the van settles, for the first time sitting evenly on the concrete. Nero calls that a win. 

“Hey, not bad!” Skylar cheers. She wipes her grease-stained hands on her pants. The bandages from Legion’s latest attack still wrap around her Devil Bringer. “That’s at least one issue solved.”

One of many issues, he hates to admit. They’d been working most of the morning, Skylar taking her day off to help him restore the neglected vehicle. It helped to have an extra set of hands, even though she didn’t know anything about cars. He wasn’t an expert either, but at least he knew how a motor worked. Hopefully, that would be enough with the added help of the internet. 

“It’s a start. C’mon, I want to take another look under the hood. I think I might know what the problem is.” 

He pops open the hood, cringing at the state of disarray. Rats had chewed through some of the wirings, nesting in the empty pockets of the motor. It was going to take time to get enough money to buy the needed parts to fully restore it, but at the moment he tried not to focus on that. If anything he just needed the vehicle to start. 

“Damn it…” Nero curses under his breath. His temper flares as he bumps his head. He heaves a sigh.

This was going to take forever. 

He works for what feels like an eternity, elbows deep in the destroyed engine. Skylar, with no knowledge of how to help him, works diligently on stripping the interior of the van. She had just reinstalled the driver’s seat when he’s finished fastening the last bit of tubing.

“Alright. Fire her up.”

He receives a thumbs-up before he hears the engine sputter. There’s an odd clicking noise accompanying the mechanical rumble.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…!

Skylar starts the engine again. He stands there, waiting with bated breath.

Vroom!

“Hell yeah!” She crows. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Nero shares her grin, letting a bit of pride swell in his chest. Not bad. Not bad at all.  

Hopping out of the driver’s seat, she gives him a high five. Hours of work finally had paid off. 

“Will you stop that? That’s so gross.”

Skylar freezes just as she starts to rub her right arm against the edge of the workbench. The tightly wound bandages stick to the scales beneath, a thick barrier from the oil and grime. Caught red-handed, she drops her arm with a scowl but continues to absentmindedly pick at the bandages with her other hand. The picking quickly becomes scratching, the scales underneath evidently irritated. 

Nero ignores it… for now.

“Hand me that wrench, will ya?”

Another twenty minutes of scratching and Nero has had enough. Dropping the screwdriver on a nearby cart, he catches Skylar subtly itching the spot where her scales would meet the skin of her bicep. 

“C’mon.” He holds out his hand “Let me take a look.”

“Look at what?” She questions as she subtly tries to hide her arm behind her back. Her fingers twitch, evidently wanting to continue their scratching.

Nero raises an expectant eyebrow to which Skylar sighs. 

“Fine…” She finally relents. There’s a slight grimace as she unwraps the bandages and pulls her arm free. Nero can immediately see why.

Her arm bare, Skylar idly picks at the flaking scales covering her Devil Bringer. Large chunks of the bulky carapace have seemingly died off and now stick to the new layer of emerging scales. The short, newly grown spines at her elbow lay flat, flakes of shed pinning them. Even the arm’s steady glow has dimmed, emphasizing the devil hunter’s discomfort. She shifts, the sleeve of her t-shirt tugging upwards with the motion, showcasing the inflamed skin for all to see. Nero winces when he notices the welts peppering her skin.

“You told me your arm was fine!” He exclaims, as he gently grabs her arm to inspect it. Skylar idly scratches the back of her neck with her other hand.

“I mean, it was… kinda.” It’s hard to miss her embarrassment. 

He remembers when he had found her at the edge of the property, staunching the bleeding lacerations as best as she could. Luckily, her healing factor had kicked in enough to stop her from bleeding out, forming delicate scabs over the wounds. But her Devil Bringer….

Legion had torn off the sharp spines on her elbow, the chunk of hide a bloody mess. 

Nero knew it wasn’t impossible to pierce the dense scales, having experienced the sensation of both demon and blade sundering the protective layer. And while any sensation of touch was dulled compared to his left hand, any damage done to his Devil Bringer was almost twice as painful. 

There was something unsettling about her usual unflappable attitude being unraveled by one demon. Skylar had kept it together while on the phone, but as soon as he had approached the house he could sense the distress rolling off her. To see how Legion had wormed into her psyche, eliciting so much fear…. 

He hated that they hadn’t found a solution yet. 

“When’d this start?” He asks, carefully turning her arm to get a better look. 

“A week ago. I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of freaking me out.”

He taps the shed-covered spines with curiosity. They’re shorter than he remembers, sleeker in a strange way.

“The spines look different.” He comments, to which Skylar agrees.

“Yeah, weird right? Old scales have fallen off in the past, but this is something completely different. It’s like the whole thing is changing again.”

Nero lets go of her arm.

“It might be. A few months before we met I went through something similar. It was a bit slower than this but same idea.”

Skylar groans.

“Great, so this is some type of demonic puberty.” She’s immediately back to scratching her forearm. “Just my luck. Not like I didn’t have to suffer through it already. Alright, so what did you do?”

Nero shrugs.

“In this case, I removed all of it.” Skylar shoots him a dubious look. “Yeah I know, it’s better to let it fall off by itself, but after a month of no sleep because of an itchy ass arm, I really didn’t care. Seemed like it turned out fine in the end.”

Of course, Kyrie had helped him with the majority of the process, shucking off the main layer of dead scales in the harder-to-reach places. Working with one hand had not been ideal, and only with her care and patience was he only able to safely remove the dead scales. He had avoided asking her for so long, fearful that such a request would scare her off, especially so early in their relationship. He knew it was weird, that so many already saw him as some freak of nature.

“You know what? Screw it.” Skylar suddenly declares. “Do you have anything I can pry these off with?”

He curses.

“Not like that! I mean…!” That had been his first instinct as well. Kyrie had stopped him just in time before doing anything stupid. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He closes the van’s hood, careful not to jostle any of his hard work. Skylar plops herself onto one of the spinning chairs, idly swinging back and forth. Just as he’s about to enter the house, Nero pauses on the top step.

“And no trying anything! Got it?”

Skylar scoffs.

“Okay, mom !”

It’s not long before Nero returns with a bag, a few clean rags, and a shallow tub filled with hot water. He scoots his chair to her right, unpacking the bag’s contents. She shoots him a questioning look when she sees a menagerie of scrub brushes, a dense-looking nail file, a few bottles of colorful liquids, and a spray bottle. Nero lays a towel out on top of the workbench, along with the tub of warm water. 

“Alright, give me your arm.”

Skylar tilts her head. 

“Why?” She questions, a tad suspicious. 

“I’m going to try to clean all the gunk off.”

“You’re going to give me a manicure?” She asks, rummaging through the collection of files and brushes. “Where’d you even get all this stuff?”

He shrugs.

“Kyrie likes to have a spa day every once in a while. Now c’mon.” Nero gestures to the tub. “Arm up or I’ll keep bugging you about it.”

Skylar rolls her eyes. However, she wordlessly rests her arm in the water. Despite her initial resistance, Nero hears a soft sigh of relief escape. For the first time today, her left hand rests still. 

“Now just put your head down and chill. I’ll do the rest.”

“I still think tearing it off would be quicker.”

A short laugh escapes him.

“And Kyrie would kill me if I let you do that. Seriously, how have you survived this long?”

He receives a sharp grin.

“You’re the one always saying I’m stubborn as a mule. Guess it takes one to know one.”  

Another laugh.

“You know what? Fair answer.”

With an amused snort, Skylar rests her head on the workbench, pillowed against her left arm. 

“Watch it with that file.” She teases, her voice muffled in her arm. “Rather not lose a nail.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nero chides. “I’ve got it.”

Inspecting her Devil Bringer, Nero tries to decide where to start first. In the end, he settles on working from the elbow down. His first step is the spines, the skin surrounding them inflamed and irritated. Bits of dried scales litter the base of each one, more shrink-wrapping them to her elbow. Snagging a water bottle, he sprays down her arm, earning him an annoyed squawk. However, Skylar does not pull away. 

Carefully, he begins scrubbing away the dead scales, using his own claws to scratch away some particularly stubborn patches. Skylar flinches a bit when he cleans the sensitive hide, yet keeps still despite his prodding. He’s especially careful where the scales meet her skin, sending her a mumbled apology when he tugs at a thick part of shed. 

Every so often Skylar raises her head just to watch what he’s doing. 

Working downwards, Nero’s surprised at the layers of dried hide stuck to some of the scutes. It seems that they never had shed correctly, even before the recent die-off. Peeling away a large chunk, he’s met with a surprising sight. The arm wasn’t a slate color as he first thought, instead showcasing a deep burgundy motif. Scrubbing away more of the dead scales, he finds evidence of dark violet and blue hues at the tips of some of the ridges. 

“You’re not allowed to look anymore.” He announces. “I want the end result to be a surprise, got it?”

“Please tell me you didn’t find some creepy crawly. That’d be really gross.”

“No, you’re good so far. But it’s no wonder your arm’s so itchy.”

There’s a twitch in her shoulders. Nero preemptively tosses a clean towel on her head, blocking her view. 

“Nero!”

“I said not to look!”

She parrots him in a mocking tone. While she does remove the towel with her free hand, she doesn’t raise her head. Nero takes it as a sign to continue his work. 

Shucking off more dead scales, Nero focuses his attention near the glowing ridges. Brushing away some gunk with a warm washcloth, he drenches the area again. Skylar doesn’t protest this time.

It’s a bit therapeutic, quietly working on such a task. With every pass, the scales seem to shine a bit brighter, looking much healthier than before. He likes that visual progression. It was a nice change from his daily routine of hunting and destruction. Eventually, he’s done clearing away the dead debris. He blinks, surprised at how much the Devil Bringer has changed color. Polishing and filing the sharp talons, he pops open a pink bottle. 

“That smells really good. What is it?” Skylar asks, albeit a bit sleepily. 

“Something Kyrie mixed up. It has a bunch of different flower extracts to make it smell nice. I think there’s some type of oil in there as well, but I’m not really sure. But it’ll definitely help keep your scales from getting flaky.” 

A tired hum. 

Massaging the mixture into the dry scales, he tries to loosen the tight coil of muscle beneath. Skylar’s shoulders slump onto the workbench. A happy rumble wavers through the air, showing her evident content. Silver bleeds into the normally molten hue of her arm, reflecting off the now clean scales. Nero chuckles softly, having never seen her this relaxed. 

Polishing the final ridge, Nero leans back to inspect his work. It was akin to cracking open a geode and finding the crystals hidden underneath. With all the dead scales gone, the hide shines with the colors of a sunset. The silver glimmer reminds him of stars appearing at dusk, signaling the arrival of the moon. 

He can’t help but feel a bit proud. 

“Alright, that’s the last of it. You’re good.”

Waiting a moment, he doesn’t get a response. Her steady breaths tell him why. A part of him wants to let her rest, but he reasons she’d probably be stiff from sleeping in such a strange position. 

“Hey, rise and shine sleepy head.” He gently shakes her shoulder, rousing her. “You can look now.”

Skylar raises her head, blinking owlishly. Quirking an eyebrow at him, she finally gets a glimpse of her Devil Bringer. That snaps her awake. 

“What the…!” She breathes, flexing her fingers. “Holy shit… it’s a completely different arm. It feels so much lighter. And it doesn’t itch anymore!”

It’s both amusing and endearing watching her twist her arm around, excitedly trying to get a better look at the glimmering scales. The short spines flare and flatten a few times, testing their newfound freedom.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, right?” He asks. To which she looks at him, her expression gentle, mixed between awe and something he can’t quite place. 

“No, not at all.” She chuckles softly. The spines flare one final time before stilling against her elbow. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He nods, not expecting such a sincere thank you. It’s why he’s a bit caught off guard when she suddenly stands.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She snags the tub of water, along with the used brushes, and hurries into the house. After a bit of time, she returns, the brushes clean and the steam billowing from the tub’s fresh water. Carefully, Skylar plops it onto the workbench and gestures toward it.

“Arm up.” She orders, tapping the tub with a clean brush. Nero doesn’t hide his evident confusion to which she grins.

“Least I can do is return the favor.”

Chapter Text

Reading over the crumpled note, Nico glances at the brightly painted mailbox on the edge of the street. A menagerie of painted critters adorns the painted blue metal, all drawn at various levels of skill. On the left side, a fearsome green dinosaur stomps towards what seems to be a very squiggly zebra. Further up the mailbox, the brush strokes become defined, held with steadier hands. The top of the mailbox is painted with a stunningly iridescent butterfly flying alongside a ruffled-looking pigeon. Below them swims an orca, circling with a kick-ass great white shark. Nico can’t help but be impressed with the level of detail added to its silvery scales.

She looks at the note again. 

Did the guy give her the right address? This didn’t seem like the place you would find a rough and tumbled devil hunter.

There’s a rustle in the fenced-off garden. A young boy, probably about eleven or twelve, rummages in a flower bed, looking for… something? 

“Hey, kid!” Nico calls, waving her arm.

The kid looks up from his hunt, shooting her a suspicious look.

“Yeah?” He replies. Standing up, he brushes off his hands. Nico can see a bug catcher sitting next to him. 

“I’m lookin’ for a guy by the name of Nero. He live here?”

She receives a suspicious look, one that feels out of place on an eleven-year-old.

“Uh. Why are you asking?”

“Businessy stuff. Could ya get him for me?”

“Um, wait here.”

Walking to the far side of the house, the boy disappears from her view. Nico hears a side door open and slam shut. Lighting a cigarette, she takes a long drag of it before following the kid’s path. There was no way she was gonna wait for some mysterious devil hunter to wander outside. 

Outside the closed side door, Nico can hear snippets of a conversation inside what seems to be the garage. The boy inside talks with who she assumes is Nero. There’s a hearty chuckle, followed by a joke about something with “three eyes and no nose”. 

Then the boy says that her hair is “frizzy”.

Her beautifully luscious locks were not frizzy! 

Barging into the garage, Nico comes face to face with the enigmatic devil hunter. Leaning up against a workbench, he quickly straightens, stepping between her and the kid. 

“Hey kid, don’t you know it’s impolite to call a lady’s hair frizzy ? Where’d you learn your manners?”

Nero shifts his stance so his right side is partially obscured behind him. 

“Julio,” He addresses the kid. “Why don’t you go check in with Kyrie and get cleaned up? I need to have a chat with our unexpected guest.”

Dropping his voice, Nero whispers something that she can’t make out. Julio nods, jogging to the door leading into the house. 

The door slams behind him.

Nico can feel the man’s analyzing stare, eyes darting at her every movement. Tilting his head, he seems to listen for something Nico can’t catch. She lifts her cigarette to take another drag of it, only to be interrupted.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Nero scolds her. “If you wanna talk, you gotta put that out first. I don’t like smoking, especially in my garage.”

That catches her off guard. Waving her hands around, she motions to her cigarette.

“Aw c’mon man!” Nico balks. “It’s only one cig!” 

“Nope. Not only does it smell terrible, but this garage is filled with combustible materials. I am not risking my family’s safety just because you want to smoke.”

Nico scoffs.

“Ya know, you should l save your lectures for that kid. Julio, wasn’t it? Probably would have better luck.”

The bone-chilling glare she receives makes her regret her words.  

“If you don’t want to put out your cigarette, fine. But get the hell out of my garage.”

Nico heaves a sigh.

“Fine, fine, don’t get your panties all in a twist.” Begrudgingly, she tosses her cigarette on the concrete floor, stamping it out with her foot. “There, happy? Your sensitive little nose okay now? Anything else you wanna complain about?”

Nero doesn’t answer, continuing to glare at her. However, the intensity has somewhat lessened being replaced with a glitter of curiosity. Casually, he leans back on the workbench. 

A blue shimmer catches her attention. 

Boy howdy, what’s that?!

“Damn,”  Nico whistles. “ever go see a doctor about that?” She can’t help but be intrigued by the devil hunter’s reptilian arm. 

Nero gives her a confused look before she motions to his arm. He freezes when he realizes what she’s talking about. Trying to tuck it behind his back again, he quickly gives up. Instead, he crosses his arms. Nico marvels at the deep blue scales running up his arm. It seems to shine with an ethereal light. 

“I’d prefer not to have people sticking needles in me.” Nero shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not eager to be someone’s guinea pig. 

“It’s still my arm, it just happens to look a bit different.” He adds, starting to sound defensive.

Nico shrugs.

“Eh. Everyone’s got their shit. Don’t have to worry about any judgment from me.” She comments. “It’s part of ya. Not like ya can do anythin’ ‘bout it.”

Smirking at the disbelief worming its way on Nero’s face, she strides forward stretching out her hand. 

“The name’s Nicolleta Goldstein. I was wonderin’ if ya knew anything ‘bout The Order of the Sword. Specifically, anythin’ about the demonic research they might’ve been doin’. Books, documents, files, anythin’. Heard that you were part of it some years ago.”

Reluctantly, Nero returns her handshake. Rough scales rub against her palm, the scaly skin feeling surprisingly warm. 

She really needed to get a look at that arm.

“How’d you find me?” Nero asks, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m not one to give out my address.”

Nico explains her meeting with the occult journalist Jefferey Turner, along with her trip to Fortuna. Shaking his head, Nero lets out a sigh. 

“I swear, I’m never talking to another journalist again.” He grumbles, evidently annoyed. “Alright, yeah, I used to be a part of their ranks. The bigger question is why you’re asking about their work. Hell, how do you even know about it? A lot of it was classified, even to those in the Order.”

“Well, ya see…”

She eagerly dives into the gritty details of her supernatural knowledge, spouting logistics left and right. While she does not go into the reason why she wants access to such documents, she does try to paint herself as a knowledgeable and responsible individual. Admittedly, she’s not sure if she achieved the latter. 

Wrapping up her argument, she watches as Nero ponders her words. His brow furrows, his decision made.

“No.”

Nico looks at him baffled. 

What?

“What’d ya mean ‘no’? I obviously know my shit!”

The glare returns, his icy blue eyes boring into her.

“That’s exactly the problem.” Nero explains. “I’m not letting that type of info out into the wild, especially with someone who knows what to do with it.” 

He shrugs. 

“I’m sorry, but it’s not gonna happen.”

In her stunned silence, Nero turns to leave the garage. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

“Do ya happen to know a guy named Agnus?” She blurts out. She’s desperate. This was her last chance and she wouldn’t just stand there idle.

Surprisingly, the man flinches. Whirling around, Nico notices the storm of emotions swirling on his face. Shoulders tense, Nero glowers at her.

“He’s dead.” He hisses. “Killed during the Savior Incident.” 

Nico doesn’t reply. She’s not surprised by the news, but it is still strange to hear nonetheless.

“How do you even know about that asshole ?” Nero asks, almost spitting the last word of his sentence.

It’s obvious she’s treading dangerous waters if the hostile glint in his eye wasn’t a serious red flag. There’s some unspoken history, the anger burning in his words speaking of darker times. If she were wise, she would back down and walk away.

But hell if she was going to do that! She’s swum in rougher!

“I’m his daughter. Biologically speakin’.”

If it weren’t for the already hostile atmosphere, Nico would have outwardly laughed at the devil hunter. His jaw literally drops at her words. 

“ That asshole had a fucking kid? ” He asks himself in disbelief. It’s as if he doesn’t believe her. 

On the workbench, Nico spots the dissembled parts of a heavily modded Durandal. Although she had never seen one in person, this one was certainly a sight to behold. She couldn’t help but laugh at the engine’s design, earning her a strange look from Nero. Who the hell thought up this rig?

Approaching the workbench, Nico snatches a section of the Exceed system, turning it in her hands. Finally snapping out from his initial shock, Nero gives her another annoyed glare.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Put that down, you’re going to break it!”

“And what, break it more than it already is?” 

Nico inspects another piece. Ducking under another grab from Nero, she quickly identifies the problem.

“What the–! Ya screwed up one of the intake valves in one of the main combustion chambers. How’d does that even happen? Ya know you’re supposed to be using the pointy end, right?”

Dismantling the faulty part, Nico doesn’t receive any more resistance. Instead, Nero sits beside her, observing her work. Elbows deep in the Durandal’s motor, Nico can’t imagine how someone could possibly wield such a weapon. Not only does it weigh a ton, but the kickback from the motor would also fling the sword out of anyone’s hand. Hell, it would probably take the hand with it. 

Well, guess that was a perk of having demon blood.

Further picking apart the motor, Nico cringes at the state of some of the main fuel lines. 

“Eugh! When was the last time she was maintenanced? This area here’s all gunked up!”

She takes Nero’s silence as an answer. Rolling her eyes, Nico methodically cleans out the oil-laden components. Focused on her work, she barely notices the door to the house creak open. A white-haired woman pokes her head out, raising an eyebrow at the devil hunter. Nero tries to shoo her away, but Nico addresses her before she can disappear back into the house.

“What? Ya going just sit there and stare? That’s a bit rude ya know.”

The woman looks conflicted, glancing between the two of them. Heaving a sigh, Nero motions for her to join them. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Brushing the workbench clean, the woman perches on top of the scarred wooden surface. She stares at Nico with the same hawk-like expression, although a bit less intense. 

“Did I hear that right? She’s Agnus’ daughter? Like the Agnus?” She whispers to Nero. 

“Yeah.” He whispers back to her, much to Nico’s annoyance. “And as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think she’s lying.”

They glance over at her, as if she couldn’t hear them. 

“I’m standin’ right here, ya know?” Nico sighs.

Reassembling the rest of the motor, Nico attaches the apparatus to the top of the blade. It locks into place with a hearty clunk . She tightens the bolts holding the whole thing together. Inspecting her work, she can’t help but grin.

Masterfully done, as always.

Turning to her audience, she almost laughs at the different expressions of the two observers. Nero openly inspects her work, pointedly glancing at her as he tilts the blade for analysis. He’s conflicted, not sure whether to thank her or scold her. On the contrary, the woman casually twirls a screwdriver between her fingers. She occasionally looks over to Nero to watch his reaction, but Nico can tell she’s observing her in her peripheral. Having barely spoken, she’s harder to read.

“So, ya like, related or somethin’?” Nico tries to break the ice. “I’m guessin’ the hair’s natural.”

There’s a soft snort of amusement.

“You could say that.” The woman answers cryptically. She turns to Nico, hopping off the workbench. Her posture is lax, almost casual. 

“I’m Skylar by the way.” She greets, holding out her hand. “You said your name was Nicolleta, correct?”

Nico is surprised by the woman’s warm introduction. After Nero’s less-than-friendly welcome, Nico would have expected the same attitude. She shakes Skylar’s hand, barely containing her excitement when she notices it too is covered in scales.

“Nice meetin’ ya Skylar. Ya heard right, but you can call me Nico!”

Nico receives a smile, giving her a bit of hope. Her quest for knowledge may not be over. There may still be a chance!

Nero grumbles something. As if weighing nothing, he lifts the Durandal off the workbench, balancing the tip of its blade on the pavement. He spins it around to inspect it.

“Gotta admit, she looks good as new.” He says with a nod.

“‘Course she does! As I said, I know my shit. Now, does that mean you’ll help me find those Order docs?” Excitement bleeds into her request.

Nero seems hesitant to answer. 

“Alright.” He finally sighs. “I guess I owe you one, Nicolleta. We’ll look for ‘em.”

Pumping her fist, Nico celebrates her success. 

“Since we’re gonna be workin’ together, you can call me Nico. Even though you were an ass.”

Chapter Text

“Hold on a minute!” Nico exclaims, looking between the two of them. To Nero’s surprise, she seems to hesitate. “Eh, um, what’s up with the arm exactly? Not tryna to be rude or nothin’ but a gal’s gotta wonder. Were ya born with it?”

Although she doesn’t show any signs of being uncomfortable, Skylar briefly bites the inside of her cheek. After all these years, she had yet to outgrow her nervous tick. His nerves frayed from his earlier interactions with Nico, he is ready to tell her to mind her own business. Just as he’s about to open his mouth, Skylar answers.

“Nah, it was something that happened later.” Skylar shrugs. “It’s actually only the forearm, stopping at the elbow.”

Nico’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Excitement and curiosity radiate off of her, her hands twitching to get a closer look. A chill runs down Nero’s spine. Any doubts about Nico’s heritage are completely gone. Unconsciously, he tucks his own Devil Bringer further behind him.

“Y-you wouldn’t mind if I took a look?” She pleads.

Skylar spares him a glance and seems to notice his trepidation. As if to draw the attention off of him, she shrugs again and holds out her arm to allow Nico to inspect it. Nero can’t understand how she can be comfortable with a stranger, let alone Agnus’ daughter, studying her. 

“W-wow! They’re so similar, but your scales have a bit of a sleeker structure! And the color! J-just wow!”

Skylar rotates her arm to a more comfortable position. Nico gasps. 

“The flattened spines near your elbow! It makes everythin' so much more aerodynamic! Can you move ‘em independently of your arm? It’d make sense, ya wouldn’t wanna stab yourself.” 

Nico makes an excited squeak when Skylar flares the spines outwards. 

Chattering on, Nero is surprised by the amount of patience Skylar has, especially with the number of questions she’s bombarded with. Carefully choosing her words, she sates Nico’s curiosity without exposing anything too personal. By the time Nico finishes her interrogation, the sun has already started to set.

“Shit! Time flies way too fast. Could I get a ride back to where I’m stayin’? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to catch a bus this late.”

Skylar nods, briefly glancing over to Nero. Her gaze lingers in a way that spells trouble. 

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Skylar assures. She turns to head into the house. “Just give me a moment, I need to get the keys.”

With Skylar gone, the two of them sit in awkward silence. When she returns a few minutes later, Nero can’t help but feel relieved. 

“Alright, all set.” The van’s key ring twirls around her index finger. “Nero, why don’t you ride with us? We can talk about our plans for finding those documents.”

The look Skylar gives him leaves no room for argument. Her eyes narrow when he doesn’t answer. Nero tries not to roll his eyes.

“Fine.” He finally concedes. “Let’s get going then.”

The drive is relatively short, but it allows them time to discuss the specifics of Nico’s request. By the time they roll up to Nico’s stop, they’d agreed to meet her the next day to head to Fortuna’s Castle. Nico gives them a quick wave before they depart, practically skipping to the inn’s entrance.

Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, Skylar contemplates something before turning the van around. Nero gives her a questioning look, noticing that she’s taking a road that does not lead back home. She ignores him, flipping on her signal and merging over to take the road that leads out to the coastline. 

Dusk begins to fall, the roads are mostly empty, many not wanting to suffer from the chilling ocean breeze. He doesn’t speak, instead leaning against the window to watch the waves below. As much as he wants to tell Skylar to turn around, he knows it would probably piss her off. Already in a bad mood himself, he rather not fight on the road. Whatever her plan, she was hell-bent on seeing it through.

Parking the van, Skylar doesn’t look back at him as she pops open the door, pulling Ragnarök out from behind the driver’s seat. She doesn’t wait for him as she trudges up the sandy dunes. Scowling, Nero slams his door, following behind her. The van locks behind him. 

Walking in tense silence, the waves do little to help his anxious mind. Nico was an unwelcome surprise. Not only was she rude, but she was also Agnus’ daughter. Nero still had nightmares about the psychopath, having left him scarred, mentally and physically. The Gladius had left a nasty scar running down the length of his abdomen, a constant reminder of the day the Savior attacked.

A reminder of how he failed Credo. 

He can’t let that happen again!  

“C’mon Sky! What gives?” Nero demands. He’s losing his temper. “Why are we even out here? Kyrie’s going to start to worry.”

Skylar slows her pace. In a tucked away cove, they’re a good way from any paths or campsites. The only noise present is the ocean sprawling before them. 

“I told her we were going to be gone for a bit. She knows where we are. My biggest concern is why you’re a bomb about to go off.”

“Wha— I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Sure. Yeah, I totally believe that.” She drawls sarcastically. “Nero, when you get quiet it’s bad news. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this freaked out.”

Nero crosses his arms, ignoring her.

“It’s nothing, and besides, it’s none of your business.” He knows he is being harsh, but he really doesn’t want to talk about it.

He receives a stubborn huff in return.

“Fine.” Mimicking his posture, Skylar stares him down. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to force you. But there is no way we are leaving until you calm down. Kyrie and the boys don’t deserve whatever this is.”

He doesn’t answer.

“If you’re not going to talk, then spar me instead,” Skylar suggests. “Anything to get you out of your funky mood. I grabbed Ragnarök for a reason and you always have Yamato.”

“I’m not going to fight you.”

“Then what’s bugging you? One or the other Nero. Unless you want to stay out here all night.”

Silence.

“Why’d you even follow me out here then?” Skylar sighs. He wonders the exact same thing, realizing he could have stayed in the van if he had wanted to.

Nero curses. Maybe she had a point.

“It’s about Nico….” He finally admits.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, what about Nico?”

He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue, caustic and dangerous as the man who caused them. They sit there, burning at the back of his throat, bubbling with a thought he never imagined he would have again. But for a moment, he doesn’t care. She asked so he would answer.

“What if I prevented anything bad from happening? What if there’s no possibility of a Savior part two?”

A heartbeat of silence, his words sinking in. Skylar’s breath catches and she stares at him blankly.

“Nero, what you’re contemplating is murder !” He can hear the strain in her voice. Skylar cautiously approaches him with a placating gesture. “I know he was an evil man. I know his work killed so many people. But there’s something else. Something much more personal.”

Her next question is spiked with fear and curiosity. 

“Why do you hate him so much?”

Nothing could stop the roaring anger unleashed at her words, sparking the simmering fury boiling within him. The day’s stress, the reminder of such nightmarish times, and his devil’s chant for freshly spilled blood brew the perfect storm.  

“Because that bastard strung me up like a dead animal, ready to bleed me fucking dry!” He roars, stalking forward. “Because that asshole kidnapped Kyrie, who still has nightmares to this day!”

He towers over her, a hair width away from her face. Skylar flinches back, yet stubbornly she stands her ground. Concern and sympathy paint her features.

For some reason, that pisses him off further. 

“I had that bastard! A flick of my wrist and he would have been dead!” Nero seethes. His devil snarls, deep and ugly. A perfect reflection of his current sentiments. “It would have probably prevented the Savior from attacking the city. Maybe it would have stopped all the deaths, all the destruction. Hell , Credo would probably still be alive!”

“But, I didn’t, and I regret it every day!” He’s yelling now, memories fueling his anger. Stalking the sandy shore, he has the urge to hit something.

“But as I dangled there, torn open, struggling to escape that madman’s clutches, do you know what ran through my head?! Not my well-being, not the fate of this damn island! Not even how much I wanted to kill that fucker, to smash open his skull and grind it to a pulp!”

The words tumble from his mouth. His shame, his confession. He can’t stop its escape. 

“It was regret. Regret that I didn’t have the power to defend Kyrie from those monsters. I didn’t care if I became a demon. As long as I could protect her, that’s all that mattered. That’s all that still matters!”

Yamato materializes in his hand, summoned by his turmoil.

“And then, Yamato answered my call. She promised me the power that I needed and boy, did she deliver.”

Demonic power courses through his veins, itching for violence. Skylar’s eyes flash with an unnatural light, reacting to the sudden surge. Despite lacking a Devil Trigger, there were many times human and devil seemed to bleed together. 

“So when I say Nico’s dangerous, I know what I’m talking about!” He roars.

“But you’re still judging Nico purely by Agnus’ crimes!” Skylar presses. “You’re doing exactly what every demon does when they look at us! Hell, exactly what other people do when they look at us!”

“No! Neither of us is planning to take over the fucking world! We don’t know that for sure with her!”

“Exactly! We don’t know! You’re obviously biased! I’m sorry that happened to you, but what makes you qualified to be judge, jury, and executioner?!”

Yamato snaps forward, barely caught by Ragnarök’s edge which had been drawn at a moment’s notice. The longsword gleams in the pale moonlight as she struggles against him. He bares down on the blade with all of his might, eliciting a grunt from the younger part devil. 

“Oh shit, not what I had planned…!” Skylar grits out, yet she holds her ground. “Guess we’re doing this.”

She attempts to push back but ultimately fails. While she was strong, Nero always beat her when it came to brute force. The specter at his back lashes out to aid him causing Skylar to skid further back, sand kicking up from her heels. He strikes down again as if to prove a point. To prove that his strength was the only qualification he needed. 

“We hunt evil almost every day and the one time we can prevent it from happening you’re against it?!” He snarls. 

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Again, they lock blades. Nero forces her back, Ragnarök and Yamato dipping dangerously close to his opponent's scowling face. Flames roar to life around her, licking her skin and the beach below. He can feel the sudden blast of heat, just centimeters from burning him. Yet, the flames are extinguished abruptly, much to his confusion.

“This is not the same and you know it!” She growls back, her expression twisted in concentration. Her arms tremble under the force. “What if you’re wrong?! Are you prepared to live with that?! Are you prepared to make that choice?!”

Skylar suddenly shifts her weight, causing Yamato to screech down the length of Ragnarök’s blade. Sparks spray around them, tumbling into the amorphous sand below. Yamato eagerly strikes again, only to be parried away. Skylar deftly sidesteps the follow-up swing. 

He remembers when Yamato heeded his call, the voice echoing in his mind as he took up arms against that madman. He remembers the dream he had, standing at the edge of life and death, standing before that lonely figure.

Power! Give me more power!

“Life doesn’t give you a choice! Power is what has kept us alive, and without strength, you cannot protect anything! You of all people should know that!”

The world burns red, muddled, and yet at the same time, the clearest he’s ever seen it. Agnus cowers before him, a pathetic trembling creature. A pathetic piece of scum.

“And if I become a demon, so be it, I will endure the exile. Anything to protect her.”

He swings again, throwing his body fully into the action. It’s wild, reeking of anger and hate. For who, Nero’s not so sure anymore.

With a flick of Skylar’s wrist, Yamato is suddenly meters away, half buried in the dunes. Nero remembers showing her that very same move.

“Yes, but power can be dangerous, even to those we try to protect!” Skylar counters, staring him down. She doesn’t look away as she tosses Ragnarök to the wayside. Her stance changes, talons flexing in preparation for their inevitable clash. 

“Power is what allowed me to save Kyrie! It’s what kept me alive when Agnus gutted me! It’s what kept you alive against Legion! How do you not understand?!”

“But I do understand and that’s what scares me! Your actions are being fueled by fear! Do you know how dangerous that is for people like us? How dangerous that is for the people around us?!”

No! She was wrong! She was wrong! 

She hadn’t been there, she hadn’t watched as his family was torn apart, as Credo fell from the Savior’s crown. But he had grown stronger since then. He had power, power to stop anything that threatened his family again. 

Nero clenches his Devil Bringer into a fist, the claws digging into the heel of his palm.

He would just have to show her how wrong she was. 

Sand kicks up from his boots as he charges toward her. His lungs burn with anger he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Not since the attack. 

Not since he met Dante. 

Not since the old man all but abandoned him. 

Why did everyone seem to leave him in the end? Why was everyone he cared about taken away? He wouldn’t allow it! Not again! Never again!

Skylar dances out of the way of his first punch, ducking and rolling her shoulder to mitigate the strength of the follow-up strike. His head snaps back, pain blooming in his jaw as her fist finds its mark. Nero retaliates, rewarded by a fleshy crack and the tangy scent of blood. He lifts his arm just in time to catch a deadly left hook. 

The gleam of her Devil Bringer casts an ominous glow, the blood from her broken nose dark in the molten light. With another swing, he pushes her back, following up with a powerful body shot, summoning the spectral form of his Devil Bringer. Although she moves with the blow, he doesn’t miss the slight wheeze escaping her lips. His blood roaring at the sound of weakness, he rushes forward and— 

Everything tilts, the world spinning on its axis, and he hits the ground with a solid thud. Sand worms into his hair and clothes and he clutches his side, his ribs burning from the violent kick that had been planted there moments earlier. 

Nero pushes himself off the beach, giving his ribs a moment to mend. He should have seen that coming. The woman loved to sweep a leg if given the chance. The following kick had just added insult to injury. 

“Fear is the real enemy here.” She says, her voice nasally from her broken nose. Using the reprieve from their battle, she braces herself and snaps it back into place. With a wince and a curse, she continues nonetheless. “It drives us to do things we later regret. Even if those things started with good intentions.”

Tired, bloody, and bruised, the fury from earlier begins to wane, now bitter yet still smoldering with his anger. 

“I wasn’t lucky enough to have some guardian demon at my side!” He exclaims, no longer trying to hide how hurt he felt. “I was alone! I was hated and called a freak for all of my life! I couldn’t run away like you did! I can’t run away now! Do you know what it would do to me if anything were to happen to Kyrie and the boys?! Can you even understand that?!”

“And you don’t think I care about them as well?! That I don’t care about Fenrir and the Shadows?!”

“Then why?! You rather risk it all for one person?!”

Why was she protecting her?! What made Nico so special that she would risk destroying everything that he cared for?! Why would she—?!

“Yes! When that person is family!” Skylar exclaims. “When that person is you !”

His mind screeches to a halt, her words ringing in his ears despite the pounding surf. It takes him a moment to completely comprehend her declaration. 

“What…?” Is all he can say.

Skylar sighs.

“I know I can’t change the past, but I’m sorry you went through that. You’re right, Fenrir was always with me. And although I sometimes felt isolated, I knew I was never alone.” She admits. Nonetheless, her expression hardens and grows somber. “But if you do this, Agnus wins. I’m not going to let that happen.”

Was she… trying to protect him? From what? Himself? It felt so goddamn cliché that it couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be….

“You remember what I did for the Order? Before everything happened with the Savior?” He asks quietly. The blood still stains his consciousness despite being washed away from his hands. “I’ve killed before, I can do it again.”

There’s anger in her eyes, but he knows it’s not directed at him. In the past, Skylar had eluded to her sentiments on the Order. There was always a certain bitterness present whenever he spoke of his past within their ranks, on how he was treated, a protective sort of anger he was still getting used to.

Silently, she sits on a nearby gnarled log of driftwood.

“But you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to anymore.” Skylar wipes the remnants of her bloody nose away, leaving a messy stain above her lip. “And if I remember right, those people were possessed by demons. There was nothing left to save.” 

Sand crunches uncomfortably in his boots as he walks over to her, a slight limp in his step. Usually, when they sparred, they often pulled their punches, drawing out their fights without purposefully harming each other. It had been some time since they had battled in earnest. As he sits down next to her, the sand suddenly becomes much more interesting.

“I just, I just don’t want to be alone again…” He despises how weak he sounds, how desperate. 

“You get angry when you’re scared.” Comes a sad, low chuckle. From the corner of his eye, he watches Skylar shake her head. “Should have thought about that before dragging you out here. Sorry about that. Admittedly, I didn’t know what to do. I’m not good with this type of stuff.”

A soft snort.

“You and me both.”

Skylar tilts her head, giving him her full attention. Her expression speaks of understanding, a gentleness that would look out of place if he was a stranger. So often did she wear a steeled mask, protecting against the weakness he knew lay beneath. He’s worn that same mask, hunting the most abominable of hell’s beasts. He’s worn that same gentleness, either with the boys venting about their time at school or when Kyrie opens up about an especially hard day at work. It dawns on him why it’s so easy to lash out at Skylar.

She was a substitute for his own self-loathing, another side of the same dented and tarnished coin. A reminder of just how fucked they got when it came to fate. 

“It’s okay to be scared. It reminds us of the things we care about; keeps us alive in the face of danger. But remember, things are different now. You have friends and a family that care about you. That will fight tooth and nail for you. You’re not alone, not anymore, not ever again.” 

Nero dips his head, idly drawing in the sand. Skylar seems to sense his uncertainty and bumps up against his shoulder as usual.

“All I am saying is, we may have demon blood, but it doesn’t define who we are. You told me that years ago. We have a choice only we can make in the end. Don’t let fear take that away from you. You’ve got a human heart, a kind one at that. I would hate to see it ruined because of one mad scientist. And hey, whatever you decide, I’ll back your call. No matter what I think, it’s your decision. I won’t stop you.” 

The swell of emotion in his chest has his eyes burning, unshed tears threatening to fall. He can only nod silently, clearing his throat to hide a soft, wheezing whine. At that moment, he’s at a loss for words, such a compliment heard sparsely in his lifetime from anyone other than Kyrie.

“Thanks, Sky.” He finally rasps. While he may sound weak, for once he does not care. There’s no judgment here. Her reassuring smile promises him so.

Stars twinkle in the slumbering night sky. The lack of ambient light unveils a masterpiece of swirling starlight, the crescent moon its crowning centerpiece. Water crashes on the shore, the remaining puddles reflecting the shimmering sky above. 

“Sorry for breaking your nose.” He apologizes, breaking the silence. With a wave of her hand, Skylar huffs good-naturedly. 

“Eh, it’s not like it’s anything new. Probably deserved it anyways.”

Nero scoffs albeit a bit sadly.

“No, not tonight.” Nero shakes his head. “Other days? Yeah. But not tonight.”

While the air is chilled with the ocean breeze, he does not shiver as it soaks his skin, creeping under his coat. The soul beside staves off such cold. 

“I hope you’re right on this,” Nero states wearily. He leans heavily on her side, the fate of Fortuna and all he holds dear at the forefront of his mind.

Breathing in the salty air, Skylar exhales, long and slow. 

“So do I, Nero.” She finally replies, focusing on the endless ocean, as if hoping to find some semblance of peace. As if to find some hidden answer to their plight.

“So do I.”

Chapter Text

“Geez, ya like ninety or somethin'?! I don’t think I’ve met anyone that drives slower than you!”

Her eye twitches in annoyance. This was the… third time? The third time that Nico had commented on her driving in a matter of twenty minutes. 

Skylar can sense Nero’s smugness radiating from his makeshift seat. With the barebones state of the van, the only place for him to sit was the extra chair they had installed behind the driver’s seat. It was accompanied by a cramped table, where some of his gear was scattered on top. 

The soft click of Blue Rose’s cylinder causes her to tense. 

She really hoped it would not come to that. 

“Are we there yet?” Nico sighs, again, from the passenger seat. 

“Almost. Sky, turn right here.”

Skylar slows to a halt at the four-way stop. Despite the empty road, she flicks on her signal, checking for anyone crossing. She deliberately takes her time, enjoying how Nico squirms impatiently in the passenger seat. Wanting to see how far she can test the woman’s patience, Skylar double-checks the street.

Nico flings up her arms.

“Fuckin’ hell! There’s no one here! Just go already!” 

“Hey, I’m just following the rules of the road. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re learning to drive?”

“You’ve got devil blood! C’mon, break some rules! Anythin' to hurry it up! Knowledge is a’waiting!”

Skylar stifles a laugh as she carefully turns the corner. The van coasts smoothly at a leisurely pace, showing no signs of motor issues. It was honestly a blessing, especially with how much trouble they’d been having restoring it to a working state. Just another reason to keep at an easy pace.

Much to Nico’s obvious annoyance, it takes another grueling ten minutes to make it to the cordoned-off remains of Fortuna’s castle. As they pile out of the van, Skylar pauses taking a good look at the crumbling structure. Nero had commented that it had been partially destroyed at the activation of an artificial hell gate. The remains were just another example of why people should not tamper in powerful and unknown demonic magics.  

Slinging Ragnarök onto her back, she makes her way over to where Nero and Nico are bickering about how to enter. 

“Oh, c’mon it’s not that high! It’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say demon boy! I don’t feel like breakin' my legs today, thank ya very much!”

Surveying the sturdy iron fence she finds there are no alternate ways they could slip through. Skylar’s attention turns to the gate, built just as sturdy and as tall. She gives it an experimental rattle. 

“I’m just saying that I could toss you up and over. You wouldn’t even need to climb.”

Okay, so definitely locked. There’s even a good bit of enchanting for good measure. She could pick it, but that would probably take too long. Besides, she’s pretty sure she left her kit at home. She really needed to get that pocket fixed.

“That’s even worse ya idiot!”

Ah! There it is. Just enough force and the lock should crumple like a tin can. It's been a while since she’d cracked open a lock like this, but if she just angled her arm right and smashed it with the right amount of force….

“Yeah, but it would be funny as hell. If you’re so worried, we could have Sky be on the other side to catch you.”

“I’m not a hot potato you ass—!“

Bang!

Nico jumps back in surprise with a swear. Nero’s arm twitches to where Blue Rose is holstered under his coat. They both stare at the wide open gate, its lock smashed in and a pleased Skylar standing next to it. 

Still got it.

“Well, we’re already breaking and entering so I assumed a little property damage didn’t matter.” She shrugs. “Besides, as you said, devil blood.”

Nico mutters something under her breath before crossing the threshold. Nero follows close behind.

“Guess that’ll work.” He comments as he passes. “Although, I liked my idea better.”

Skylar snorts amusedly before following silently behind them. Their ragtag group makes their way across the bridge and into the depths of the castle. It is easy to understand why Nero hated this place so much. Even in its dilapidated state, the overwhelming opulence of the castle’s interior was enough to make her feel out of place. She had never been to a building that was designed so blatantly to make another feel inferior. However, the dust-laden furniture as well as the stained tapestries remind her that even the grandest of structures was no match against time. 

A giant hole in one of the walls catches her attention. The remnants of what seemed to be a painting lay strewn about, a chandelier having smashed through. Skylar doesn’t miss Nero’s smug grin.

“You had something to do with that, didn’t you?” She already knows the answer.

Nero's grin grows wider.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Chuckling, she shakes her head. Leave it to Nero to make collateral damage as extra as possible. 

Descending down the halls, the marble walls begin to morph into something far more industrial. Her boots clank on the metal sheeting, the hallway finally opening up into a strange atrium-like structure. Shattered glass litters the area, softly reflecting the light from the large hole in the ceiling. It’s silent, the crashing waves outside faintly echoing in the distance. Nero’s magic twists anxiously, putting her on edge. 

Then it hits her, the old stench of dried blood, rotten against her nose. Something deep within her hisses angrily, vengeance heavy on its mind, hatred for a threat long gone burning in its heart.

Her heart. 

The spilled blood of her kin sparks a fury like no other. At Nero’s flinch, his hand hovering over his sternum where she knows he was struck, the fury blossoms into a roaring rage. 

He’s scared, just as she was when Legion attacked for the first time and every subsequent time after. A wraith that has haunted her from almost the dawn of her memory, now inflicting the same misery upon him. Nero wanted to protect her from that same fate, something that she was unable to do for him.

A little voice in her head whispers violent promises as she inspects the shattered glass and the dented metal wall. Despite her heartfelt sentiments the night prior, actually seeing the deep gouge stained in red triggers a deep desire for vengeance. How silent Nero is, skirting away from the shattered remains of the lab, doing everything to avoid looking at the place he had been ensnared. It felt wrong, oh so wrong. 

And yet, there Nico stands only a few steps away, his turmoil unknown to the child of the man who inflicted such catastrophe. For a moment Skylar wonders if she too had inflicted such hate, the sins of a father unknown coming to haunt. It is enough to soothe the chant for blood echoing in her mind.

The empty lab is soon filled with the screech of scrapping metal from the looting of rusted cabinets. If they are lucky, their innards contain some treasures of hidden knowledge. Every once in a while, one of them stumbles upon some weird bauble or demonic knick-knack. 

“Yo… there’s some creepy ass stuff in ‘ere. A bit gross if I’m bein’ honest.”

For her apparent interest in the demonic, it was a bit surprising to hear Nico say that. Skylar curiously taps the glass of some preserved specimen, cringing as she catches whispers from the floating remnants.

“Spar…da…” 

She shivers and quickly draws her hand away.

“You’ve got that right.”

She continues to peruse the lab, idly scanning for threats and looking for anything useful. Of course, she doesn’t wander far, simply around the lab in case she is needed. On her slow circuit, she passes Nero who continues to observe Nico out of the corner of his eye. She shoots him a subtle, reassuring nod as his attention flicks to her. He steels himself as he walks over to where Nico is scrounging through some documents.

Skylar’s fingers hover over some moth-eaten pages, ready to flip to the next chapter when Nero speaks.

“So, what exactly are you planning to do with all this stuff once we find it? What’s so special about some old documents?”

His arm sits unnoticeably at his side, but Skylar’s trained eye can see that it hovers just over where Blue Rose is holstered. Nico looks up from the folder that she was thumbing through.

“Well, took ya long enough to ask. You finally come to your senses and realize my genius?”

“Genius.” Nero scoffs. “Yeah right. Still doesn’t answer my question.”

Excitement thrums off Nico at an opportunity to present to a new audience. With the knowledge she finally has his attention, Nico dives into an explanation of her work. Eagerly talking about her gunsmithing business, she gushes about some of her most beloved projects. She eventually turns the conversation to demonic research and her goal to become a master craftsman in both gunsmithing as well as demonic arms. To say her knowledge was impressive was an understatement.

While he tries to seem unimpressed, Nero’s slightly wide-eyed expression speaks differently. 

“But what’s your end goal, other than building shit?” He questions nonetheless. “What’s the point?”

Skylar’s surprised when Nico doesn’t answer immediately and her cryptic answer garners no faith.

“Does there have to be a reason?” Nico shrugs. “Why can’t a gal just be an expert in her field?”

There’s something more, something left unsaid. Nero pauses a moment, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. He too hears the lie creeping from Nico’s lips; the slight catch in her breath as she snarks, her false bravado hiding something deeper, more personal. Skylar readies herself for the ring of a gunshot and the fallout that may come with it. But to her surprise, Nero speaks again. 

“Then, if you seriously call yourself a demon expert, what do you know about trapping them? Banishing them?”

Skylar freezes, casting away any prior attempts at subtly. What was he…?

“Isn’t that supposed to be your job, dumbass?” Nico scoffs. However, it’s easy to see the wheels turning in her head.

“Play along for a minute. What if there was something unkillable? Like something that could jump from body to body no matter how many times you killed it? Or is that too difficult for you?”

Unsurprisingly, Nico takes the bait, whatever she was reading not as important as proving him wrong. Nero continues to goad her on. 

“Come on, little miss genius. Whatcha got?”

Crossing her arms Nico seems to deliberate his challenge, tapping her foot to some absent tune. Eventually, she pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

“Well, if that’s the case, means it’s split into different pieces. So why don’t ya banish all the bodies?” She shrugs, taking a hardy puff of her cigarette. “Gotta treat all of ‘em as a single entity.”

Skylar’s mouth hangs slightly agape. 

Was that even possible? She always imagined that was how Legion slipped through the cracks of the veil with ease, inhabiting parts of itself it may have left behind. But it had only been a guess, never knowing for sure. But if Nico was on to something then, that could mean…

A solution. An actual solution. Not some half-baked spell work, not some stupid warding. Yes, it was all theoretical, but never before had she tried something like that. She had thought it impossible, her demonic blood trapping her just as it would Legion. And it sounds like with Nico’s help, they could find a loophole.

But her hope flickers, realizing the promise she had made the night prior. Her greatest lead to escaping this nightmare, held in the hands of another. Yet Skylar keeps that hope alight, knowing at least those hands were trustworthy. In the end, she stood by her word. It was Nero’s call and she wouldn’t stand in the way of that. 

Nero scrunches his nose as the smoke drifts over to him. Waving his hand, he fans away the foul smell, using the motion to disguise a brief glance at her. Skylar focuses on keeping her expression neutral, but she knows some of her turmoil leaks through the cracks. Silently, he considers her.

And to her relief, his hand drops away from Blue Rose, hanging loosely by his side. 

“Think you could walk us through it?” Nero asks. “We’ve got a bit of an… interesting situation.”

Nico’s eyes shine with an excited glimmer, and she clicks a pen she had stashed in her pockets.

“It’d be my pleasure.” She nods, flipping over one of the random scraps of paper lying around. Skylar takes the moment to wander over. “Those are my favorite kind.”

“Ya didn’t tell me there was a goddess livin’ here.”

Nico sits at the kitchen table, stealing glances at Kyrie as the woman carefully stores any leftover food. Just having finished dinner, the boys had wandered upstairs to prepare for bed, leaving the adults to chat and clean up the remainder of the dishes. Skylar carefully balances a few plates, just about to carry them over to the counter. 

“Think she’s into gals like me?” Nico whispers, leaning closer to make sure the songstress in question doesn’t hear. Skylar attempts to muffle her amused snort. 

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t try it.” 

Nico tilts her head quizzically.

“And why’s that?”

The scathing glare Nero pins Nico with is an answer in itself. He holds it as he casually walks over to Kyrie, pointedly kissing her and nuzzling against her cheek. Nico is clueless to the sub-vocal growl thundering from him as she turns back to her astonished. 

“No fuckin’ way…!” She quietly balks, watching as Kyrie giggles and returns the affectionate gesture. “How’d the hell he swing that?!”

While he doesn’t turn to look at them, the growl grows louder, more annoyed. Kyrie turns to him concerned, and at her questioning look he immediately silences, Nero awkwardly scratching the nape of his neck. Skylar stifles her laughter with a soft cough as she balances another plate on her arm.

Chapter Text

Books scatter over every corner of the coffee table, spilling out onto the floor. A heavy tome balances on her thigh, its pages covered with ominous-looking sigils. Skylar flips through it, scanning it for anything useful. Rain patters against the roof, gurgling down the gutters. She takes a sip from her mug.

“Alright, so what about this? Pair these two together allowing them to build off of each other. Then that’ll support this guy here and we can get the best of both worlds. Power and energy efficiency. Win-win.”

Across the couch, Nico adjusts her glasses to scan her hastily scribbled notes. She uncaps her pen.

“Yer right, but this’ll make it so this one doesn’t get negated by this fella. Could be a case of just sortin’ ‘em differently.”

Skylar huffs, snagging another tome off of the table and stacking it on the one on her leg. The cap of her pen finds its way between her teeth.

“I still think we should just paint ‘em on.” Nico insists for the third time that night. “Hell, good ol’ Sharpie should do the trick. It’ll resonate better and take less time. More efficient.”

The pen finds its way back into Skylar’s left hand. She twirls it between her fingers before addressing the gunsmith.

“Nah, I’m etching these into the metal. There’s a good chance the van will be in some tight situations. I don’t want all our hard work being ruined just because some ink rubbing off.”

There’s a scoff. Nico takes a swig of her beer. 

“Your funeral. Just sayin’, that’s gonna take fuckin’ forever.”

“Well, at least it won’t be yours. Nero and I can survive a high-speed collision. You, not so much. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” 

Nico shrugs. Leaning back on the cushion, she reads over the drafts they’d cooked up in the last few hours. A mischievous glimmer suddenly appears in her eye. Skylar’s not sure if she should be worried.

“Well, if we’re goin’ the tanky route, why not go all in? Make this thing withstand a nuke?”

“Is that even possible?” 

Nico grabs a clean sheet of paper, jotting down something Skylar’s never seen before. The chaotic energy radiating off the gunsmith is one she’s only now becoming used to. 

“Won’t know till we try. But with my skills, anything’s possible.”

Okay… maybe she should be a bit worried. But hey, no one can blame her for being curious.

“Alright. What do you have in mind?”

“Hey Sky, what’s this?”

It’s around midnight and they are nowhere close to being done. At some point, Nico had swapped over to coffee, Skylar still unable to fathom her friends’ infatuation with it. The only reason she even kept it in the house was for those insanely long hunts that were closer to the outskirts and Nero felt like a cup. Her place was always a good rest stop before having to chase off another pack of demons trying to invade the city. 

She probably should stock up now that Nico would be staying for longer.

Skylar glances up from her work and immediately recognizes the demon hide of the encrypted journal. She inadvertently scowls at the enigma that has tormented her for the past few years. 

“I found it locked away in the library a few years back. A lot of it is written in Infernal, but when I translate it, the majority of it makes no sense.” 

Nico flips through it with renewed curiosity.

“Mind if I take a crack at it?”

Skylar scoffs, taking another swig of her now lukewarm tea. She twists some magic into her hands in an attempt to reheat it. 

“Be my guest.” She gestures, leaning back into the broken-down cushion. Even Kyrie had taken a try and none of them could find meaning in the jumbled words. Skylar continues to flip through the tome on her lap, jotting notes down in her own notebook. They sit like this for a good ten minutes before Nico breaks the peace.

“No fuckin’ way!” Nico crows, causing Skylar to jump and nearly spilling her drink. 

“Mind sharing with the class?” Comes a grumble, which the gunsmith ignores.

Nico madly flips the pages of the notebook, only to shove the open book in her face. Skylar blinks at the carefully drawn illustration she’s scanned many times before, a bowing tree, its thick branches looming over a man sprawled out on the ground. If he’s dead or merely sleeping, Skylar does not know.

“Okay… yeah that’s a pretty cool drawing but I’m not sure what you’re getting at. I’ve already seen that before.”

Nico looks offended, much to her surprise.

“How’d ya not see this?!” She exclaims, waving her other arm to gesture at the notebook still hovering in front of her nose. “It’s a one-to-one of A Poison Tree !”

Skylar cocks her head.

“A Poison what now?”

Nico’s jaw hangs loosely, disbelief etched on her expression.

“Ya serious? A Poison Tree ? Little Boy Lost ? The Tyger ? None ‘em ringin’ any bells?”

Skylar shakes her head to Nico’s obvious despair. 

“Damn you’re missin’ out! William Blake was one of the best, if not the best poet of the 18th and 19th century! How haven’t ya heard of him?!”

Her question garners a shrug. 

“Guess poetry’s not my thing.”

“Obviously.” Nico ignores Skylar’s glare. “Hold on, I think I’m seeing a pattern. See these numbers up ‘ere? Can ya look up The Book of Urizen for me?”

“Uh yeah, sure.” Skylar plops the laptop onto her lap, entering her search despite her confusion. Hopefully she was spelling it right. “But what does this have to do with…huh, that’s something.”

Her search turns up a menagerie of ink-drawn pages, many depicting an old bearded man. One catches her eye, the supposed god-like figure shackled and bound. His head raised, eyes closed and unseeing to the breaking dawn, he weeps as if not able to reach it.

Nico reads over her shoulder.

“Yeah, there’s tons of illustrations that go with his work. There’s some eye-catchin’ stuff in there.”

Continuing to scroll through the images, they continue to grow darker, screaming, writhing bodies of those evidently fallen to hell.

“What’s The Book of Urizen about anyways?” She pauses from her perusing. “Heck, what’s a Urizen?”

“More like, who’s Urizen.” Nico corrects. “Think of it kinda like a creation myth, Urizen bein’ the god of reason and logic. There’s a whole thing that he tries to separate himself from a thing called eternity, and tries to create a world where only he can rule. But the other Eternals, or pretty much his family, don’t like that, and a lot of shit happens. He falls and gets locked up by a guy named Los who’s kinda his brother. It’s confusin’. Anyways, real nasty stuff if ya ask me, family tearin’ itself apart from the inside out because of different ideologies and shit, but there’s some deeper meanin’ behind that I guess.”

“Damn and I thought The Divine Comedy was a tough read.”

“The hell were you readin’ 14th-century literature for?”

Skylar shrugs.

“There’s a few nuggets of truth in there if you know where to look. The whole thing that the underworld has different layers does hold some truth to it.” 

A scoff.

“Whatever floats your boat I guess.” 

Nico snags the laptop, popping it onto her other knee. She quickly scrolls through some articles, scanning through a long wall of text.

“And if we take each book and match it with this….” The gunsmith mutters. 

  Slowly but surely, the once incomprehensible snippets begin to shuffle into something that Skylar realizes she can read. Excitement bubbles within her as she meets Nico’s equally ecstatic expression.

“It’s a cipher! Nico, you're incredible!” 

“I know.” Nico grins. “But thanks for the reminder.”

Skylar gently smacks her arm with an amused huff. 

They work together to painstakingly decode the jumbled text, Nico instructing her on what to transcribe and what is simply garbled nonsense. A few pages in they find something that feels strangely familiar.  

“Wait… Temen-ni-gru… why does that sound familiar?”

Skylar wracks her memories, before shuffling through the books on the coffee table. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she wanders to the nearby bookshelf. She skims her finger across the spines of the tightly packed books. 

Ah, there it is!

Carefully, she plucks a slim book from the collection, a gift from the librarian who had at one time despised her so. Their relationship had changed after she had inadvertently saved her son from Legion’s demonic outbreak. It had been a few weeks later when she was approached by the librarian. At first, she had feared for the worst, her luck finally running dry, and was ready to pack her things and leave. To her surprise, she instead received a curt nod, and the woman simply left the book on the table. A neatly written card had been folded within it. 

Thank you . It had simply read. But it resonated with her more than she could have imagined.

On days like that, it was hard not to feel hopeful. 

“Apparently it’s something Sparda used to separate and seal the path from the underworld to our world. It’s seen in the Spardic faith as a place that holds humanities sins.“

“Guess that makes sense, sayin’ that you found this in Fortuna of all places.” Nico’s face scrunches in confusion. “That fancy book of yours say anythin’ about a… Clifford?”

“Like the big red dog?” Skylar raises an eyebrow. “If you want children's books, you should try asking Nero or Kyrie.”

“No, no, Qli-foth? Qli-poth?” Nico sighs as she taps the word on the page. “This thing ‘ere.” 

Reading over the hastily scribbled text, she pauses as the word whispers in her mind. It feels familiar, as if in another life she knew whatever mystery it held. She reaches for such secrets, yet they dangle just out of reach, balancing the line between comprehension and ignorance. 

“Qliphoth.” She says slowly, testing the word on her tongue. She hadn’t meant to say it, and yet the alien syllables escaped nevertheless. Ragnarök chimes from her bedroom, as if gleeful to hear such utterance. 

“Huh, that doesn’t sound right either. But if ya say so.”

Nico continues to flip through the notebook, scribbling more notes in the margins, oblivious to Skylar’s internal struggle. Like a tune she could not name, she turns the name in her head a few dozen times. Because a part of her knew it was a name despite no reason to know so.

The soft creaking of hinges draws her from her thoughts. From the corner of her vision, she watches Fenrir nose open the door. 

Huh, that’s strange. Fenrir usually tried to avoid the rain. What was he…?

The Garmr pauses, staring her dead in the eye. In his mouth, she sees a familiar glitter of silver. She springs from the couch, much to Nico’s alarm, all thoughts about the Qliphoth hastily shoved to the wayside.

“Fenrir, don’t you dare!” She yells in Infernal, the guttural syllables making Nico jump. She sprints for the open door. 

It had taken so long to get those into the proper shape! No way in hell was she going to do it all over again! 

To her despair, he ignores her and runs out the door.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Skylar throws on her jacket, ignoring her evident lack of footwear, and bolts out into the storm.

Chapter Text

Ping!

Kyrie doesn’t look up from her book at first. Being in her comfiest pajamas, curled up on the couch with a warm blanket, using Nero’s shoulder as a pillow, whoever’s texting her can wait. It had taken them a full hour to get the boys to bed; besides, it was midnight. It can’t be that urgent. 

Ping! Ping!

“Well someone’s popular.” Nero chuckles, glancing up from the old laptop resting on his lap. 

Kyrie huffs, trying her best to ignore her phone lying on the coffee table. She regrets not setting it to “Do Not Disturb”. 

A minute later, the device disrupts their quiet evening once more.

Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Okay, I’ve got to admit, now I’m a bit curious.” 

“Well, I’m not,” Kyrie says, hunkering further down into the couch. “Whatever it is is not worth either of us getting up.”

A mischievous glimmer appears in Nero’s eyes. Stretching one of his long legs, a sock-clad foot nudges the cell phone, getting it to balance on the top of his foot. He flicks his ankle in one fluid motion, the phone flying in the air, only to be deftly caught in his left hand. 

Kyrie giggles at her boyfriend’s antics, before giving him a soft round of applause. Nero, grins, giving a mock half-bow. The motion is a bit stiff with Kyrie still leaning up against him.

“Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be here all week!” 

Handing her the phone, Nero gives her a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to his laptop. Kyrie can’t help but smile, nuzzling up a bit closer as she unlocks the device, and taps on her messages. Huh, it’s from the group chat. 

Nico : guys get a load of this!!!

Nico : Click to view video

Nico : lmfao

She scrolls down further. 

Skylar : DO NOT LOOK AT THAT VIDEO!

Skylar : DON’T! I MEAN IT! IGNORE ANY OF THIS IS HAPPENING!

Skylar : NICO LET ME IN!

Nico : yeah… no

Skylar : NICO UNLOCK THE DOOR!

Nico : let me think.

Nico : no

Skylar : NICO!!!

Kyrie is just about to send a reply when she glances up at the paused video. Her thumb hovers over it before curiosity gets the better of her and she taps the screen. 

She is greeted by a whirlwind of movement, as it seems whoever is filming is running across what Kyrie believes is Skylar’s living room. She turns up the volume, just as the person holding the camera, Nico, stops at the back door. Nero’s shoulder shifts as he turns his head curiously to the screen. Kyrie turns it towards him so that he can get a better view. 

The two of them watch as the camera focuses through the small window showing Skylar bolting across the backyard. Rain pours from the sky, the only light illuminating the scene the porch lamp. There is yelling outside, and Nico quietly cracks open the door to allow for a better view of the ensuing chaos. 

Fenrir suddenly comes barreling across the yard. Mud cakes his fur, his paws splashing waves of dirty water with every step. He carries something in his mouth, but the camera quality is not good enough to decipher what it is. 

The shouting grows louder as Skylar comes lunging out from the right frame, grabbing the soggy hound and picking him up off the ground. With one arm she desperately tries to grab whatever is in the demon’s mouth, while the other is latched around Fenrir’s middle, stopping the massive hound from escaping.

“Oh, that’s not going to end well,” Nero comments.

Sure enough, the flailing pooch causes the duo to slip, falling in a mess of limbs and muffled curses. Both struggle against the other for whatever prize Fenrir has. Finally, Skylar is able to grab hold of whatever Fenrir has in his mouth. She exclaims triumphantly as she snags it out of his possession. Rain and dim lighting still hide her face, but Kyrie can guess Skylar taunting the demon. 

Big mistake. 

Her hood obscuring her view, Fenrir is able to grab the back of Skylar’s jacket and begins dragging her around the yard. The look he gives the camera catches Kyrie off guard. Could demons look that smug? There’s more angry shouting and Nico is howling with laughter as Skylar struggles to get free. A bark of laughter escapes Nero, before quickly being smothered to avoid waking up the kids. She can feel his silent chuckle reverberate through his chest from her spot beside him. Even she has to consciously hold in her laughter as Fenrir drags her off-screen one moment, only to suddenly come barreling back on screen, Skylar still in tow. 

Finally dropping her, the wolf pauses a moment. As if to add insult to injury, Fenrir gives the ground two quick kicks with his hind legs, hurling two more globs of sludge at Skylar. 

Nico continues to laugh from behind the camera.

Skylar drags herself from her newfound pit, mud dripping from her clothes. Trudging towards the door, the camera focuses on her face, her annoyance very evident. It turns to disbelief when Nico suddenly pushes the door shut and locks it. Kyrie’s jaw drops, looking to Nero who wears the same expression. 

“Oh, no way…!” He balks, staring at the phone.

“Nico! Did you just…?” Skylar tries the door, confirming it’s locked. While she could easily break it open, it’s evident she’s trying to avoid that. “Nico! Unlock the door!”

“I don’t know Sky, maybe ya should wash off out there. Wouldn’t want to track any mud.”

“Nico!”

The camera shakes again as Nico sprints to the house to the front door. It locks with a heavy clunk.

“Nico, I swear—!”

The video cuts abruptly.

The room is silent for only a moment before they are laughing together, completely bewildered at what they just witnessed. 

“Maybe Nico’s not so bad after all. That’s perfect blackmail.”

“I hope Skylar’s not still out there. I mean, it is—“

Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Hold on. I’m grabbing my phone. I need to save that video!” Nero stands and places a light kiss atop her head before quickly climbing the stairs. Kyrie fondly shakes her head before scrolling through the rapid-fire messages.

Nico : boo hoo little sky gonna cry?

Skylar : You’ll be the one crying when I find my way in.

Nico : try me bitch

Skylar : I’m serious Nico! Now answer your damn phone!!!

Nico : nope. dont need to hear ur yelling

Nero : you’re still locked out??? ha! loser!

Skylar : Nero??? WTF?! How are you seeing this?

Nero : this is the group chat dumbass.

Nero : by the way, great vid nico.

Nico : my mastery knows no bounds

Skylar : NERO! WHAT DID I SAY?!

Skylar : DELETE IT! NOW!!!

The couch shifts as Nero retakes his spot next to her. His mischievous grin already tells of what his response is going to be.

Nero : don’t really feel like it. maybe if you ask nicely.

Skylar : NERO I SWEAR I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS ONCE I’M DONE WITH NICO!!!

Nico : like to see u try

Nero : good luck with that .

Kyrie sighs.

“Nero, it’s not nice to taunt her like that. She’s been out there for twenty minutes now.”

He waves his hand nonchalantly. 

“I know it might seem mean, but seriously Kyrie, it’s all in fun. A little rain isn’t gonna hurt her.”

Kyrie gives him a look.

“This is for the plastic frog she stuck in your coffee mug last week, isn’t it?” She remembers the startled yell and crash of ceramic. 

“Yep.” He answers popping the ‘p’. “Really liked that mug too.”

She rolls her eyes before she starts typing out a message.

“Nico, you’ve had your fun. Let her in. It’s probably…”

Her fingers hover over the keys, as she watches the next messages roll in. They’re… a bit different than what she would have expected.

Nico : srsly. did u give up that easy? lol

Nico : im not opening the door. cant fool me

Nico : heads up u 2, sky might be on her way to get a key. lmao

Nero cringes, suddenly looking a little guilty and a tad worried.

“Alright, maybe this has gone on long enough. I’m gonna call Nico and tell her to let her in.”

Nero goes to dial Nico’s number, however, Kyrie stops him. She receives a questioning look. 

“Did Skylar have her jacket on in the video? The one she usually wears with the red hood?” She asks him. Nero tilts his head.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” He answers, confused. “Why?”

Kyrie doesn’t answer, instead opening a private chat with Skylar and typing out a single message.

Kyrie : Make sure you get it on video.

Moments later, she receives a reply.

Skylar : You got it. Thanks again for fixing it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nero asks as he reads over her shoulder. Kyrie fights back a knowing smile. 

“Give her a few minutes. Let’s just say, some lessons need to be learned the hard way.”

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Skylar : Click to view video

Skylar : Thanks again Kyrie! I owe you one. And Nero, got some interesting news, but I’ll tell you later. For now, watch your back.

Skylar : Goodnight!

“That’s… ominous,” Nero mutters.

The video plays.

The camera shakes as Skylar props her phone near the front door, overlooking the front yard. Much of the mud from earlier seems to have been washed off, leaving her dripping wet. She gives it a smirk and a quick thumbs up before rummaging into the inside of her jacket to pull out a slim metal case. Crouching near the front door, she pops open the lid.

“Fu—! Since when can she pick locks?!” 

Carefully, Skylar finagles the lock pick with utmost precision. Her head cocked towards the door, it’s evident she’s using her sensitive hearing to help lead the pick through. A minute of silence before she grins and stashes her tools away. Skylar gives the camera one more devilish look before opening the door and rushing in. 

“Holy shit!”

Skylar barrels back outside with Nico thrown over her shoulder. The myriad of curses spilling from the gunsmith’s mouth is like nothing Kyrie has heard before. It quickly morphs into yelling as the rain drenches them. 

“Ah,” Nero remarks plainly. “Now I get it.”

Covered in mud, Nico flops onto the grass with a hearty sigh. She adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. 

“Alright. I deserved that. We’re even now.” 

Skylar extends her hand to help Nico up. Nico takes it…

…and immediately tries to pull Skylar into the mud.

“Damn you and yer stupid demon strength!” Nico laments. 

She receives a toothy, shit-eating grin. 

"Demon blood’s got to come with some benefits.” Skylar laughs, pulling Nico up. The video ends with Nico trudging inside and Skylar subtly pocketing her phone.

Kyrie decides she would text Skylar back in the morning. She imagined the devil hunter had a lot of cleaning up to do

Chapter Text

The dark woods of Mitis Forest feel almost suffocating, claustrophobic in a way she has seldom experienced. Such sprawling woods was usually a herald of safety, plentiful game to hunt, and perfect tucked-away niches to hide in. But for once, she wasn’t hiding, even despite knowing she was being hunted. 

And for once, she isn’t the prey.

Such a mind-boggling circumstance, one she never imagined she would be in. Skylar continues to doodle in her notebook, despite the knowledge of eyes upon her. Every moment without Ragnarök on her back frays her nerves. The only thing staving off such madness is Yamato leaning up against her leg. Still, she has to fight the urge to reach for the Devil Arm. 

Not yet. 

Her ears twitch at the rustle of foliage and she allows herself to raise her head to watch a demon shamble out of the underbrush. Its large, reptilian head turns to face her, its sunken eyes boring into her. Despite knowing this is all part of the plan, her blood freezes, her heart leaping into her throat. 

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Standing, Skylar tucks her notebook away into her pocket, snagging Yamato in her right hand. The Devil Arm chimes softly in an attempt to soothe her nerves. She tries to appear calm but knows she’s failing miserably. 

“Well, this is quite a surprise.” The statement echoes around her, in disturbing synchronicity. Skylar shrugs as nonchalantly as she can.

“What? Just enjoying the outdoors? Nothing wrong with that.”

The underbrush rustles again with what she knows are more demons, the scent of decay heavy in the air. Legion’s pawn circles her as it speaks. 

“Indeed. You were always one for the forest little one. Wild and free as the creatures living in it. It is a shame that those humans have tamed you so.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a place to hang your hat. Besides, isn’t territory a big thing for demons? Maybe I just wanted a bit of my own.”

“Perhaps. But you have always been a wanderer, a vagabond. Where has the thrill of the hunt disappeared to? The thrill of the chase?”

Skylar scowls.

“There’s a difference when you’re the one being hunted.” She can’t stop her hatred from creeping into her words. At least it was better than the fear she barely had control of. A question flutters from her before she can catch it. 

“Why me?” She asks bitterly. “After all these years, what do you want with me?”

The demon pauses its circling.

“It has changed over the years. An order becoming a game. A game becoming a passion. There are so many reasons angel. Too many to count.”

“Then give me one!” She snarls. “One reason I’ve had to endure this nightmare!”

And the demon laughs. Laughs and laughs with such glee, it makes her feel sick.

“Because a nestling is far less of a struggle to catch than its father. When all you require is blood, one does not get picky.”

“And whose blood may that be?” She asks, knowing this may be her last chance to be able to.

It gives her a knowing look, one that promises she will receive no more answers. One that promises the time for talking has passed. 

“Why don’t we play a game to remind you of such joyous times?” The monster suggests instead. “There was a game that you humans liked… what was it…?”

A pack of demonic hounds stalks toward her, their decaying flesh riddled with squirming maggots and twitching eyes. Saliva drips from their maws and their claws tap in anticipation.

“Ah yes, foxes and hounds,” Legion remarks. “So… get running little fox.”

The zombified dogs spring into action, lunging at her with insatiable bloodlust. Skylar looses Yamato from her saya and precisely severs one of the demon’s head. In her peripheral, she spots the fiery blades she had come to know from her past few weeks of training. It had been a surprise to see them appear the first time she wielded the blade, taking the place of her usual firebolts. Admittedly, she had hoped for a Devil Trigger like Nero, the kick-ass specter being very useful in a fight. But then she remembered how he unlocked such power and strayed from such thoughts. 

She wasn’t keen on getting stabbed through the chest. 

Her attack bounces off the cleavers of a Hell Antenora and Skylar is forced to redirect her next strike lest she gets struck. Yamato’s lighter weight doesn’t allow her to strike as hard, throwing off her usual momentum. Nero had suggested she just throw herself harder into her attacks, his more brute strength approach with the Devil Arm having always worked for him. But her reliance on speed made it that such a tactic was inefficient. 

Whelp, “ All in ” as Nero liked to say.

It’s impossible to miss Yamato’s joyful ring as she rushes into the fray at lightning speed, slicing into demons left and right. A weapon of skill and finesse, it was obvious the Devil Arm was enjoying the change in style. And while Skylar lacked the obvious knowledge of how to properly wield a katana, her quick strikes seem to thrill the blade. They work together in an easy rhythm, Yamato’s presence shifting and guiding her attacks with razor precision. But Skylar can tell they lack the natural bond the Devil Arm has with Nero, her fiery magic sometimes clashing with Yamato’s icy song. Nonetheless, they are a force to be reckoned with, and they cut through the horde in record time.

Yamato tugs her attention to her right flank and she uses the blade’s saya to bash a Hell Juddecca’s skull. It reels back from the blow, giving Skylar an opportunity to tear through its chest. It retreats backward, warping a good distance away. Just as it reappears, a volley of molten projectiles skewers it, burning it to ash. 

Her eyes scan for any more teleporting monstrosities and she finds there is only one remaining Juddecca amongst the crowd. She zeroes in on it, cutting down any other demons that get in her way. If they wanted this plan to work, none of them could escape. 

One shot. One chance.

She wasn’t going to waste it, especially with everyone risking their own safety for hers. 

“What are you planning?” Nero asks one day. The four of them had been hanging out on a brisk autumn morning. Skylar stops her work, the metal spokes of her rake halting with a tumbled clatter as they are dragged against the grass. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, a bit confused. 

“You heard me.” He states, crossing his arms as he addresses her. Nico and Kyrie have stopped their own yard work, to watch the exchange. “Something’s on your mind. I can tell from your expression. It’s the one you get when you’re planning something stupid.”

She scowls.

“I—“

“Don’t you dare lie to me!“ He growls. His icy glare isn’t necessarily a threat, but something snarls deep in her chest. She grits her teeth and is ready to retort, but he interrupts her again. “You’ve been acting strange ever since we found that shit in the journal. Legion is running around again. So tell me what’s going on in that head of yours before I personally crack it open and take a look.” 

Skylar clamps her mouth shut so she doesn’t ruin whatever quip she may want to snap back with. However, this time Nero has a quicker tongue. 

“You’re gonna go after it by yourself.” It’s not a question, but her silence answers it. “When will you stop it with this bullshit?!”

“Nero, I need to end this! I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this! I can’t drag anyone else into this mess!”

Nero scoffs. An accusatory finger is shoved against her sternum.

“You dragged me into this the day we met. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not. Do you even have a plan?”

Skylar clicks her tongue. 

“I do….” It’s not exactly a lie.

“Yeah, thanks to me!” Nico finally speaks up, tossing her bag of raked leaves to the wayside. The crispy foliage scatters back onto the ground. “One that means I’m taggin’ along too! Yer gonna need someone to recite the spell; or did you forget about that? A passage that, by the way, only works for people with human blood. And if I’m right, I’m not the one with the demon arm here.”

“But—!“ 

“Nuh-uh!” Nico waggles her finger. “Or I’m not lettin’ anywhere near my notes!”

“Then I’m going too.” Kyrie declares. She at least had the sense to carefully place her collection of leaves down. “This monster has haunted you for so long, I want to be there to face it with you.”

The mere thought of her kind friend being in danger breaks Skylar from whatever had ensnared her tongue.

“This is not the sort of thing that should be taken lightly! This is not your run-of-the-mill demon! It’s too dangerous!” Skylar exclaims. For the first time in the conversation, Nero agrees with her. He’s ready to share his own thoughts when he freezes. The stony look on Kyrie’s face has them both reeling back. 

“I am not something to be coddled!” The normally calm and collected woman snaps. Nero shrinks back a bit. “And if you're saying this is our only chance, I’m not going to let it go to waste. What if something happens to Nico and you need someone to step in? What then?”

Nico shrugs.

“I could use the help if I’m bein’ honest. There’s two parts to this, and I can’t recite two passages at once. And I don’t think Nero’s gonna be able to help with this one either.” 

Kyrie gives her a determined nod. She lances them with another glare, full of righteous fury. Rendered speechless, Skylar slowly nods. Nero recovers before her. 

“So…” He asks. “Who’s ready to trap a demon?”

In a strange way, running is cathartic. Yes, she’s running for her life, an action that has haunted her dreams and reality for as long as she could remember. But if all went well, this would be the last time she would ever have to do this. 

So of course, she’s going to run the fastest she can. 

The demons on her heels, her legs burn with every jarring step as she pelts through the tree cover. Yamato pushes her, cooling her straining muscles with a careful breath of magic as she continues her dead sprint. It’s methodical in a way that speaks of familiarity, the action practiced in a time before her own. For a moment, she wonders who else had been hunted in such a way. 

The thought is discarded as one of the demons pounces onto her back and drags her to the ground. Yamato screeches in vengeful fury, and Skylar lets the Devil Arm guide her hand as she cuts down their attacker. Her shoulder bleeds sluggishly, the torn flesh taking time to stitch itself back together. It’s not a moment later that she realizes she’s surrounded. 

“Ha! You’ve cornered yourself! You are losing your tact angel!”

Doing her best to control her unsteady breaths, she scans the dense mob of undead demons. Yamato had done well to give her the extra edge she needed to evade them. However, despite her efforts, their sheer numbers had forced her into a corner. They draw in closer cutting off any chance of escape. 

Good. Just as planned.

Her eyes flick to the surrounding tree line where she knows the others lie in wait. Legion’s pride would be its undoing. Never had it imagined she would attempt to fight back in such a cunning manner. Never before had it been prey.

This had to work. They would never get a chance like this again.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She taps her nose three times, giving the signal. “I think I’m playing the best I ever have.”

The flare of magic has her almost crashing to her knees. She had been prepared for the sudden burst, bracing before the runes etched into the surrounding tree trunks flared to life. Legion’s pawns screech in agony and she tries to shut out the ear-splitting screams. 

“It’s gonna suck, not gonna lie.” She remembers Nico telling her. “Like your soul is being dragged out of your body bad, but it should keep Legion down long enough to seal ‘em in.” 

A strangled yell escapes her despite her efforts. 

Yeah, no shit!

Collecting her wits as best she can, Skylar blindly staggers to where she knows the edge of the barrier sits. Her mixed blood gives her some advantage, at least not sprawled helplessly out on the forest floor like Legion. Still, they try to snap at her as she stumbles past. Yamato chimes in her hand, trying her best to guide her. 

“Almost there Sky!” She can just hear Nero shout over the chaos. Every word of Kyrie’s chanting pounds in her skull, but she tries to focus on his voice. “Just a bit further!”

She bites back a hiss as she bumps into the boundary of the sealing circle, the magic burning her at the contact. While Nero’s face swims in her vision, she can still pick out his worry. The surrounding air grows denser and she knows she needs to hurry lest she is trapped as well. 

“You’ve got it. I know you do. Focus.” 

Yamato sings with his determination. Skylar lets the Devil Arm’s power wash over her, soothing the boiling in her blood, and draws her blade in one swift motion. 

“The barrier’s gonna seal backward if ya wanna look at it that way. Safest bet is to have you break out from the inside out rather than Nero cuttin’ through.”  

Her fingers tighten around the tsuka and she takes a steady breath. Focusing on Yamato’s razor edge…

She cuts.

Before she can even step forward, Nero punches his Devil Bringer through the ruptured barrier. There’s a sharp intake of air, the sudden influx of power and the burning sensation most likely catching him by surprise. Still, he grabs hold of her jacket without hesitation and roughly pulls her through.

The barrier seals behind her with a harsh crack. Laying on the dew-soaked grass, she savors the cool autumn air after being in the suffocating atmosphere of the binding seal. 

“I never want to do that again.” She pants, trying to shake off the fatigue. Despite her painfully prickling skin, she’s grinning ear to ear. Nero returns her grin. To her surprise, he looks a bit fatigued, his shoulders slumped in a way that they only do after a long fight. 

Maybe the spell got to him too?

“Well if all goes as planned, you’re never going to have to.”

Sitting up, her limbs tremble from the painful magic and Legion’s chase. She ignores it, in favor of returning Yamato to her saya. She whispers a quiet thank, to which the Devil Arm gently trills back. 

“Here’s to hoping.” She rolls her mostly healed shoulder. “Hear from Nyx and Fen yet?”

Nero shakes his head, offering his hand. She takes it gratefully and he pulls her up.

“Not yet. Must be still picking off the strays. Hopefully, they’ll be done soon.”

“Better safe than sorry. If it takes them longer to be sure they picked off every one of them, I rather wait all day.”

“I hope we have that sort of time,” Nero admits as they start making their way around the edge of the barrier. “Seems like it’s shaking off whatever Kyrie’s spell did. Ready to face the music?”

Skylar grips Yamato a bit tighter and takes a final deep breath. Its unsteady nature must be a result of the seal. No other reason than that, she lies to herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Walking to the barrier’s edge, she realizes Nico and Kyrie are no longer chanting, having finished the first part of the spell. While still on high alert, that fact has her relax, if only a little bit. There was no escape for the hive mind now, as long as they captured the right demon. Nico gives her a quick wave before busying herself with the next part of the plan. Kyrie walks over to her, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She gently questions if she’s okay, giving her a nod before Skylar steps forward to face her lifelong nightmare.

“How’s it feel Legion? Not nice to be ganged up on, huh?” She jests as she walks the barrier’s exterior. The demons within hiss and snarl. 

“You believe this paltry spell will stop us?! Please! You are a fool to put your faith in magic crafted by a human!”

Nico snorts and rolls her eyes. It’s evident she wants to say something, but to Skylar’s surprise, she keeps quiet. 

A pawn runs headfirst into the barrier’s wall, disintegrating it on contact. However, the wall shudders much to Skylar’s alarm. Nero walks to stand next to her. He sends her a look that commands her to keep her cool.

“I don’t know. Looks like it’s doing a pretty damn good job to me.“ Nero comments, drawing their attention off of her to give her a moment to recenter. “Wouldn’t knock it too fast. You don’t know how batshit crazy human ingenuity can be.”

Legion scoffs.

“So, you brought the other half-breed with you. Hello again Nero, it’s been some time.”

Nero scoffs back with equal malice.

“Right back at you, asshole. Although, I wish it would’ve been longer.”

Their attention no longer upon her, Skylar takes the opportunity to scan the crowd for the anchor. In the past year, she had become better at pinpointing its location, its power twisted in a different manner than the rest. Nero unsheathes Ragnarök with a flourish, twirling the Devil Arm from one hand to the other as he too scans the crowd. The sword roars to life as he strolls the protective circle, sparks of cerulean flame dancing with every idle twirl. The pawns pause their work at clawing at the ward’s walls, watching the fiery spectacle. 

To everyone’s dismay, they laugh, a choked, ragged noise that shudders in unison with the warbling wards.

“Quite a surprise! It’s been more than two millennia!” It crows. Their eyes stay locked on the long sword in Nero’s possession. “So old friend, you’ve finally claimed your new champions. A foolish choice indeed.”

The two devil hunters glance between Ragnarök and Legion in silent question. Kyrie speaks what’s on everyone’s mind.

“Champions? What do you mean?” She asks, scanning the crowd of demons with a wary eye. Legion gives a fond tut.

“Ah, leave it to the human to ask the important questions. Hello there Kyrie. Lovely seeing you again.”

They all freeze in varying states of shock, even Nico pausing from her work a few yards away. Skylar can pick out Nero’s horror at the demon’s knowledge of his beloved. 

“I don’t think we’ve met before…?” Kyrie continues, doing well to hide her alarm. Nonetheless, her hands quiver ever so slightly as the demons stare at her hungrily. 

“Ah, but on the contrary. It was many years ago so we don’t expect you to remember.” It reminiscences. One of the demons, a Frost, paces the interior. The anchor, Skylar suddenly realizes. “Those… knights, yes? Despite such sharp words from those humans, you were very kind. It is rare to see such compassion despite being hurt so.”

Ragnarök burns brighter, his runes flaring a sinister blue at Nero’s evident fury. Nero’s eyes flash dangerously, speckles of gold peppering his iris as he steps protectively in front of Kyrie. A snarl tears from his lips and he takes a threatening step towards the barrier. It’s only Kyrie’s hand on his shoulder and her pleading gaze that stops him from going any further. 

“Ooh, touchy, touchy. Don’t worry whelp. No harm will come to her.” The demons chuckle menacingly. “Yet.”

Luckily, Nero doesn’t rise to the bait despite the monster’s barbed words. With a scoff, Legion turns its attention to Skylar, deciding that taunting Nero and its escape is a lost cause. 

“You find yourself brave, hm? Standing behind your flimsy barrier? Do you not think we know how afraid you are?”

White knuckled around Yamato’s saya, Skylar knows she looks the opposite of brave at the moment. But she realizes that wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Bravery came in all shapes and sizes.

“You’re right, I am afraid. I always have been afraid, and that will probably never go away.” She admits, to which the demons jeer. Yet despite the anxiety writhing in her gut, her words grow bolder and she takes a defiant step closer. “But the thing is, I can be because I have people I trust to watch my back. We’re the same in that sort of way. I know I am never alone and will never be again.”

To her surprise, it falls silent.  

“A foolish notion, whelp,” Legion warns. She pauses at the demon’s sudden melancholy. “No matter how tightly you cling to your kin, there will always be something eager to tear you apart. Soon enough, you will learn such a painful lesson.”

Legion suddenly hisses in pain, a ripple of unease rushing through the horde. A triumphant howl echoes from the depths of the forest, and a thundering roar soon after. It’s probably one of the most beautiful sounds Skylar has ever heard.

Soon this nightmare would be over.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” The barrier glows with ominous finality and she stares the Frost dead in the eye. Nico has started the last part of the spell. “Either way, you won’t be around to see it.”

The air wavers with a dense fog of magic. Nico’s chanting grows louder, every word sending slight shivers down her spine. She steps back to stand next to Nero who fidgets, evidently feeling the residual effects of the banishing spell. Legion has stopped its attempt at escape, resigning itself to its fate. It stands calmly at the edge of the barrier. 

“Well played angel. Well played. You have grown so much since our first chase. But this will not be our last; that we can guarantee.” It pauses, seeming to ponder something. “Since it might be a while until we see each other again, we’ll leave you with this.”

A part of her wants to interrupt the monster, knowing it was going to try to mess with her head. But she holds her tongue. Maybe it would reveal something useful.

“War is coming.” It declares in an almost gleeful manner. “Already, a contender vies for the World Tree, ready to steal its fruit and a power beyond your understanding. We sense it, as every one of our kind does. Do you feel it whelps? Ragnarök’s call singing in your blood, eager to take wing and serve a king. Anointed in blood, he too shall ascend its branches, just as our master did before him. But there can be only one true ruler of the Underworld. It is up to our kind to choose who rightfully sits atop the throne.”

And in fact, something does resonate with the creature’s words, something deep within her crowing at such violent illusions. It’s not the normal bloodlust that she’s dealt with for years, always at a low simmer no matter what she’s doing; a simmer that she has learned to live with and control. No, this is something new, freshly roused after some incomprehensible amount of time. By Nero’s grimace, she fears he senses the twisted eagerness in her magic. But he shifts uncomfortably and it’s then she realizes he feels it as well. The look of barely contained panic tells her he too is drowning in the alien sensation. 

“What do you mean ‘our kind’?” She asks, trying to direct the demon’s attention away from their evident discomfort and to dig for more information. “World Tree? King of the Underworld? What are you talking about?!”

The Frost that stands closest to the barrier tilts its head in what she recognizes as amusement. Her words fail to achieve their desired effect and the hive mind instead hisses something in a language she doesn’t understand. Yet, it sings to her, tantalizingly sweet, despite the harsh syllables. From Nero’s hand, Ragnarök hums along, further accenting the foreign melody. It washes over her in a way Infernal never has before, like she was—

It chuckles when she jumps at another hearty thrum from the barrier. Skylar barely hears Kyrie’s concerned words as she shakes herself from the strange stupor. Nero shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. He blinks a few times to free himself from the remnants of whatever Legion had just uttered.

What was that?! A spell?!

“You will learn in time,” Legion assures, pulling her back to the present. “When the moment comes, we will give you one final choice. Make sure you make the right one.”

The runes shine with a blinding light, and it takes all her willpower not to shade her eyes. A part of her regrets not doing so as Legion’s collection of demented smiles chills her blood, staring at their ragtag group with can only be described as anticipation. Beside her, Nero is unnervingly still.

“See you soon. We will be waiting.”

A deafening crack and the demons disappear. Her ears ring from the sudden silence.

“What the fuck…?” Nero whispers next to her, his unease rolling off of him in waves. Speechless, Skylar can only nod her head in wordless agreement, dread smothering her freshly born hope. Her hand hovers over her chest, whatever sensation from earlier now having returned to its slumber. Never in her life has she felt so torn in her sentiments.

‘What the fuck?’ indeed.

Chapter Text

Someone was in her room. Kyrie could hear the pitter-patter of bare feet tapping right outside the doorway.  

Why couldn’t they get up this easily when it was a school day?

Their not-so-subtle whispers draw her further from the possibility of falling back to sleep. Nero shifts beside her, most certainly awake from the hushed chaos. He makes no intention to move from his spot, if anything drawing the blanket closer up to his shoulder. The motion is very much in vain. 

“Kyrie? Nero?” Julio calls from beside the bed. “Are you awake?”

Nero grunts, showcasing his dislike of early mornings. She feels him shift and plop his arm over his face. Kyrie takes it as a signal to open her eyes. 

Kyle peeks over the comforter, the excited shine in his eyes almost worth waking up at the crack of dawn. He grins as he realizes that she’s now fully awake. 

“Happy Winter Hearth Kyrie!” He crows, bouncing up and down excitedly. “We haven’t checked downstairs yet like we promised! But, can we go look now?!”

“Of course. But no opening anything until we come down and have breakfast.”

“Aww, but Kyrie!”

“You know the rules. Now go on, we’ll be down in a few minutes.”

The boys race downstairs eagerly chatting amongst themselves. Kyrie brushes back her hair trying to tame the wild mess atop her head. Her vision now unimpaired, she looks over to the sleeping lump which is Nero. His soft breaths signify that he’s somehow fallen back to sleep despite the noise. Kyrie gives his shoulder a gentle shake.

“Five more minutes….” He mumbles, his words muffled in the depths of his pillow. 

“If I have to be up this early on a weekend, you have to be up too. It’s only fair.”

Nero huffs, poking his head up from his lair of blankets. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looks akin to a ruffled bird. Kyrie looks amusedly at the cow lick in his short hair. She wonders how long it’ll take him to notice it. 

Leaning in close, she plants a soft kiss on his cheek. Nero immediately perks up like a wilting plant blessed with rain, in turn nuzzling his chin into the crook of her neck. She can feel the soft scratch of his stubble, indicating he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He hums happily, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. 

Curling closer, he suddenly pauses.

“Kyle....” Nero sighs. He quirks his head ever so slightly.

“Let me guess, Kyle’s trying to sneak a look at his presents again?”

“What’d you expect? I just hope Carlo isn’t taking any notes.” Despite his words, he continues to hold her in his arms. 

“You know, we really should get down there.” She says, to which he shrugs. 

“Eh, a few minutes won’t hurt.” He yawns, snuggling closer. “Especially if they’re spent with you.” 

It’s a shame that Nero’s chest is so comfortable, her boyfriend radiating as much warmth as a hot water bottle. An absolute shame, she thinks, curling deeper into his embrace. Oh well, the boys would just have to wait a bit longer. It would be a crime to leave such a perfect spot, Nero’s soft purring sending pleasant tingles down her spine. 

They’d understand when they got older.

They lay there for a good amount of time, Kyrie idly combing her fingers through Nero’s hair. She only stops when Nero sighs, carefully shifting from her arms. It’s the only warning she gets before he turns and promptly shouts out the bedroom door.

“Kyle, you know the rules!”

There’s a muffled groan from downstairs. 

“But Nero!” Kyle whines. 

The chorus of protests elicits an amused huff. A smirk tugging on his lips, Nero stands and stretches. Nero offers his hand to her and when she takes it he ghosts a soft kiss upon her knuckles.  

“Shall we go start the day?” He asks.

“I don’t think we have any other options. Besides, I think we are testing their patience at this point.”

Kyrie dons her fuzzy slippers, grabbing her robe to wear over her nightgown. Nero, simply throwing a dark sweatshirt over his pajamas, follows her down the stairs. They are met with the restless gang, vibrating with childlike excitement. While Kyrie is at a loss on how to distract them from the impending holiday festivities, Nero comes to her rescue.

“Hey, I have an idea.” He announces with a mischievous glimmer in his eye. “Why don’t you go and see if Nico’s awake while we fix breakfast? Pretty sure she’d like in on the action too.”

“Miss Nico!” Carlo squeals. With the youngest of the house fueling the excitement, the three troublemakers bolt into the garage. Kyrie doesn’t need super hearing to pick out the surprised shout from an abruptly awoken Nico. Nero chuckles as he works on starting breakfast and making himself a cup of coffee. 

They work in perfect harmony, Nero mixing pancake batter as she cracks a few eggs in a pan to scramble them. The kids eventually make it back into the kitchen, having completed their mission to rouse a most likely sleep-deprived Nico. In no time, they sit around the table, munching happily on toast, scrambled eggs, and pancakes. 

A knock on the door draws her attention away from her task of loading the dishwasher. Nero nods to her, taking over the half-finished job, juggling the hyperactive children clamoring all over the kitchen. When Kyrie opens the front door, she’s met with Skylar and her friendly hoard of demons. 

“Guess who’s here?!” The devil hunter grins, snowflakes blending with her equally snowy hair. She’s bundled up in her usual leather coat, a cozy sweater underneath it. Fenrir stands next to her, a scarf carefully wrapped around his neck. A pair of amethyst eyes glimmer from behind him.

“Good morning! You all just made it in perfect time. We just finished eating breakfast.”

“Oh, awesome! I’m on time for once.” Skylar celebrates. The stomping of footsteps suddenly catches her ear.

“Sky!” 

Carlo darts to the door, which has Skylar dropping the duffel bag to make sure to catch the small child barreling towards her. Luckily, Fenrir snatches it out of the air, sharing Kyrie’s amusement as Skylar lifts the six-year-old into her arms and does a quick spin. 

“My goodness, you’re growing faster than a green bean! Look at how tall you are!” Skylar smiles ear to ear, as Carlo vibrates with excitement in her arms.

“Look Sky! There‘s presents!” He waves to the little fir in their living room, decorated with paper ornaments and a few strands of lights. While Fortuna was not one to celebrate Christmas, it had become a household tradition to get a tree after the boys had seen the stumpy one in Skylar’s home. They created their own tradition after that and continued to do so as the years went by.

If only Credo and her parents were here to see it. They would have loved all of this. 

“And I might have a few things to add to the pile.” The devil hunter says, breaking Kyrie from her thoughts. She gestures to the duffle bag hanging from Fenrir’s jaws. “But you’re going to have to wait until Nero and Kyrie say so.”

“Okay, Sky!” Carlo chirps. 

Kyrie fondly shakes her head.

“Skylar, you didn’t have to…” She starts to say, to which her friend waves her hand in dismissal.

“Kyrie, I say this every year and I’ll keep saying it. I don’t mind. Heck, I enjoy spoiling them! They’re great kids, and they deserve something special.”

Three void-wreathed cubs deftly slip around Skylar’s legs. They chirp excitedly amongst themselves before the devil hunter stops them. 

“Hey! Remember to wipe your paws! No tracking anything in!”

Nyx growls next to her as if to reassert her point. The cubs slow, carefully wiping their feet on the welcome mat before barreling inside to greet everyone. However, Aether stops when he notices Carlo in Skylar’s arms. 

“Ae!” Carlo waves at the blue-eyed Shadow with enthusiasm. Aether does a quick, excited dance as Skylar carefully lets Carlo down, immediately nuzzling Carlo's cheek. Carlo gives the Shadow a big hug in return. 

“C’mon Ae!” He points to the kitchen with excitement. “Nero is making cocoa!”

They barrel down the hall and Kyrie hears a muffled exclamation from Nero, not having expected another pair of troublemakers to barge into the kitchen. Kyle shouts something, which is how she knows Hemera has found her favorite human. 

“Well, come on in.” Kyrie ushers them inside. “It’s quite chilly this morning.”

Skylar, Fenrir, and Nyx step through the doorway, Skylar pausing to take the bag from Fenrir, as well as to remove her snow-covered boots and the wolf's scarf. Fenrir wipes his paws, only to make a beeline to the kitchen, where she is certain Julio is. Nyx stays at Kyrie’s side, seamlessly slinking around her every step. To this day, Kyrie still wonders how such a large creature could move so fluidly. They make it to the kitchen, where they find Nero handing Julio a cup of hot cocoa, Fenrir sniffing the sweet beverage with eager curiosity.

“About time you showed up!” Nero grins up at them, a shark mug in his other hand. Skylar had given it to him as an apology for her frog prank. The scent of coffee wafts from within it. “I was wondering if the cold got you or something.” 

“As if.” Skylar scoffs in good nature. She gives him a careful side hug so he doesn’t spill his drink. “Happy holidays Nero. Thanks again for the invite.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He claps her on the shoulder. “Now… if we’ve got everyone….” 

At his words, Skylar searches the hall. 

“Wait, where’s Nico?” She asks. “She can’t be still asleep. Especially with those three.”

Nero shrugs. 

“I think she went out to smoke. I imagine she’ll be in—”

The garage door swings open to reveal a frost-touched gunsmith, snowflakes littering her sleep-tousled hair. She wipes her glasses which have fogged up from the sudden shift in temperature.

“Damn!” Nico grumbles, entering the kitchen. “It’s colder than tits out there! How the fu—?!“

“Nico! Watch the language!” Nero reprimands to which Nico rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Geez.” She sends a casual wave in Skylar’s direction. “Mornin’ Sky.”

Skylar returns it with an amused smirk.

“Hey, Nico. Happy holidays.” 

Nico gives her a nod, a bit more awkwardly than Kyrie would have expected. It’s only then that she notices Nico giving a quick glance around the room, standing there as if not sure of what to do. She seems surprised by the holiday cheer, despite her efforts to hide it.

“Alright, now that everyone’s accounted for, I think it’s the perfect time for some gifts. Unless anyone has any other ideas.”

Despite such a surprise, a devilish gleam appears in Nico's expression. She taps the side of her cheek, pondering Kyrie’s words.  

“Well, I mean, I could use some grub but…”

“Miss Nico!” Kyle balks, to which Nico grins.

“Nah, I’m just messin’ with ya.” She promises. However, it’s not a moment later she wears an evil smirk. “Unless…!”

“Go! Before she says anything else!” Julio urges sprinting with the other boys into the living room. Fenrir and the cubs follow closely behind. The scene garners an amused snort from Nico and a bark of laughter from Nero. Besides her, Skylar shares her grin, completely at home in the chaos. Handing Skylar a cup of tea, they all follow the miniature stampede into the living room.

“This is so awesome!” Kyle crows, holding up the wooden dinosaur model for all to see. “Thank you, Nero and Kyrie!”  

“Glad you like it bud.” Nero grins from his spot next to Kyrie on the couch. If Skylar remembers correctly, he had found the little critter on a job a few months ago. He had been ecstatic when he had removed it from the bag to show her.

“Look what I found for Kyle! ” He had proclaimed, carefully turning the T-Rex in his hands. “What’s great about it is that he can paint it if he wants to. Give it his own personal flare!”

Skylar glances at Julio from her seat on the floor, the young scholar still staring speechlessly at the leather-bound notebook in his hands. He must still be reeling from her promise of teaching him how to enchant it, as well as showing him other useful spells. Of course, she had asked Nero and Kyrie for their permission to teach him such things. Nero had been surprisingly receptive to it, which she gathered was from the chance for Julio to learn how to defend himself. 

No matter the reason, it hadn’t stopped the tears from springing to her eyes when Julio rushed over and had given her a tight hug. She was thankful he had turned away to show Kyle the gift, giving her a moment to wipe her eyes dry. Nero had nodded in sympathy, giving her a soft pat on the shoulder.

Skylar had no idea how he and Kyrie endured it, watching these good souls grow up. The kids had stolen her heart, a fact which, she was completely content with.

“Can we go play now?” Carlo suddenly asks. He still grips the light blue dragon plushie that Kyrie had found. It’s already apparent that it was quickly becoming a new favorite, not having released it since he tore open the bag.

“Of course, but make sure to go and store your things beforehand. You don’t want anything to get lost.” 

Kyrie barely gets the words out before the boys and the cubs bolt from the living room, Nyx close on their heels, telling them to be careful. Fenrir looks at her and she gives him a quick nod of assent to follow the pack of children. Nyx was probably going to need help wrangling the cubs. Besides, they already had their own holiday celebration the night before. One that consisted of a late night in the woods, huddled around a campfire, looking up at the stars. Despite the chilling weather, she’d only brought a few blankets, Fenrir and the family of Shadows providing all the warmth they needed. 

It had been nice, a reminder of one of the few things she missed from her childhood. It was less and less that she got to experience such quiet moments.

“Alright, enough waitin', let’s get to the good shit!” Nico crows from her chair across the coffee table, pulling Skylar from the memory. 

For once Nero doesn’t berate her for her foul language. Instead, he seems to share her excitement as he carefully drags over a few hastily wrapped boxes. There are a few tears in the paper where his Devil Bringer obviously caught. 

“So, who’s going first?” Skylar asks, placing her own stack of gifts in front of her. They look at each other, hoping one of them will have an idea of what to do next. Kyrie, as usual, comes to the rescue.

“Well since Nico is joining us for the first time this year, how about we start with her?” She suggests. When she receives only nods of agreement, Kyrie passes the gunsmith her gift.

“Aw. Warms my cold dead heart. Well, almost.”

Nico hastily tears the wrapping paper, wadding up the bow and tossing it at Nero’s head. He deftly catches it only to hurl it back at her. 

“None of yall are touchin' this, ya hear!” Nico suddenly shouts, pointing between Nero and Skylar. She protectively wraps her arms around the tin of freshly baked goods she had just unwrapped. “Completely off limits!”

Neither of them says a word, instead declaring an unspoken pact in the pursuit of the wonders of Kyrie’s baking. With the two of them working together, it wouldn’t take long to find Nico’s stash. Clueless of their treaty, Nico opens the lid, snagging a cookie from inside. She stares at them as she chomps into it.

“Thanks, Kyrie!” She crows, muffled by the mouth full of sweets. Kyrie stifles a laugh.  

“My pleasure Nico! I hope you enjoy them!”

Nico gives the two of them one final glare for good measure before snagging another cookie and stashing the tin next to her. 

Skylar rolls her eyes. Nevertheless, she pushes forward a tall round box wrapped with bright yellow paper. Sunflowers adorn the gift wrap, little nicks strewed about the outer layer. Admittedly, Nero was not the only one that had a hard time wrapping gifts.

“Here. Open mine next.” She suggests.

Plucking the gift off of the coffee table, Nico turns it around, inspecting it.

“Strange shape, but alright, got me curious.”

She tears open the package with equal gusto, only to lift out…

“A hat?” Nero asks. Kyrie also stares at the cowboy hat in Nico’s hands with a bit of confusion. “Don’t you think you’re taking the cowboy joke just a bit too far?”

However, after a moment of puzzled inspection, Nico pauses.

“No, no, no, hol’ up.” Nico raises her hand to silence him. She glances over at her, excitement lighting up on her face. “Is this what I think it is?”

Skylar can’t stop a smile from spreading across her face, despite attempting to school her features. Nico barks out a laugh. 

“No way! I’ve been tryna get my hands on one of these for years. How’d you corner the slippery little devil?”

At her seat at the foot of the couch, Skylar leans back a bit smugly. 

“Can’t give away all my secrets.” 

“Wait, is that a Faust hat?” Nero asks, leaning over to get a better look. “Huh. Yeah, how did you get that? They disappear so quickly, especially after they’re dead.”

Skylar mimes zipping her lips, locking them for good measure. 

“I’m excited to see what you come up with Nico.” She replies instead, giving the gunsmith a grin. Nico nods eagerly as she carefully returns the hat to its box.

“Ah trust me, I’ve already got big plans!” The inquisitive gleam in her eye promises that. 

Nero takes that moment to hand Nico his gift, careful with the thin, square package. A stick-on bow had been slapped on top of the gift, albeit a bit haphazardly.

“Well it might be a little hard to beat those two but…” He shrugs as she takes it and immediately begins to rip open the package. Skylar tries her best to remember what Nero got for her. It had been a few months ago so it was a bit hard to—

“H-h-holy shit!” Nico stammers, staring at the partially torn wrapping paper in shock. “W-w-wait, no! How’d ya find this?!” 

Oh yeah, now she remembered. 

Nico holds up the record cover flipping it with awe rarely seen from her. A steel grey in color, the cover is emblazed with the crystalline ruby and cyan wings of one of Casey Edwards’ latest albums. Nico’s eyes grow even wider when she sees the various signatures scribbled on the front of the cover. Skylar can pick out a few names, all of them guest artists from the composer’s songs.

“Got it as payment from a client,” Nero explains. “A producer or something for the guy. Thought you could put it in the van or something.”

“No kiddin'! This is…! Holy shit!”

To everyone’s surprise, Nico rises from her seat and pulls Nero into a tight hug. 

“This is a one-time thing. Don’t get used to it.” She threatens, but there’s no heat behind it. Despite not being able to see her face, Skylar knows the gunsmith is grinning ear to ear. 

“Not planning to,” Nero answers, patting her on the back. He grins and from their seats behind Nico, Kyrie and her give him a thumbs up. 

They decide to have Kyrie go next, Skylar catching Nero’s eager glance at his present to her.

“Kyrie! Catch!” Nico tosses a gift bag across the table, rattling whatever is stashed inside. Kyrie catches it in her lap. “Not much for wrappin', but I think you’ll like what’s inside. There’s some good shit in there too! I use that for my face and boy does it feel as smooth as a baby’s bottom!”

“Too much detail,” Nero mutters under his breath, much to Skylar’s amusement. Thankfully, Kyrie seems unperturbed by the gunsmith’s crude imagery. She picks one of the nail polish bottles from within the bag and reads the back.

“This is very sweet of you Nico. You’ll have to give me some tips about how to use nail polish. Your nails are always so pretty!”

Nico eagerly nods her head.

“We can make a day out of it! Sky you can join too if ya want!”

Nero furrows his brow, obviously offended.

“Hey what about me?!” He balks. 

“Girl’s day Nero! Unless you wanna get your nails done and talk gossip.”

He bites his lip, conflicted, fighting against how much he wants to safeguard his pride and how much he enjoys getting his nails manicured, especially his Devil Bringer. With their line of work, washing off all the gunk and gross demon bits was often the highlight of the day. 

After slaying them of course. The fight was always the best part. 

While Skylar could rib him about his uncertainty, it’s the holidays so she decides to come to his rescue instead.

“I don’t know Nico, if it’s a girl’s day wouldn’t that mean you’re excluding the kids? I know Kyle has been wanting to get his nails painted ever since you told him about it.” 

Nico sighs. 

“Guess ya have a point. ‘Sides, gettin’ to paint demon talons, no way in hell I’m passin’ somethin’ like that up!” She pointedly eyes Nero’s Devil Bringer to which she receives an affronted look.

“Who said you were allowed to paint my nails?”

“If you’re joinin’ I am! Ya know how much cool nail art I can fit on those bad boys?!”

Nero sighs.

“I get to choose the color.” Nero counters.

“Deal.”

Skylar hides her soft snort of laughter and hands Kyrie her gift with much more care. 

“Mines, um, a bit strange, but….” 

Kyrie carefully pulls the paper-wrapped objects from the festive gift bag. 

“Oh, Skylar these are adorable!” Kyrie exclaims. She eagerly inspects one of the three clay pots carefully wrapped within. The one she holds is adorned with delicately painted lantanas, a hummingbird drinking from one of the golden flowers. “Did you paint these?”

“Yeah,” Skylar admits, trying not to preen at her friend’s words. “They were selling them at the hardware store, so I thought I would spruce them up a bit.“

Of course, it’s Nero who locates the tiny sigils lining the rim of the pot. Reaching over, he taps the vessel with a careful claw, magic flaring at his touch. He shoots her a knowing look. 

“So that’s how you keep your plants so nice.” He teases. “You cheat at it.”

“It’s not cheating! It’s called using tools at your disposal. At least I’m able to keep plants alive, unlike you.”

Skylar receives a good-natured laugh and another thank you from Kyrie. Nero clears his throat, the room’s attention now focused on the noticeably nervous man.

“And last but, hopefully not least...” Nero says as he hands Kyrie a very carefully wrapped package. Not a single nick is on its snowflake patterning. Kyrie unwraps it with equal care, pulling free a slim journal.

The book was a familiar sight, one that Skylar saw almost every hunt outside Fortuna’s limits. She had asked him about it after its third appearance, having been observing Nero try, and fail, to press a flower onto one of its pages. Embarrassed at first, he eventually admitted it was a side project, as well as a gift for Kyrie. He wanted to create something for her that held his thoughts and memories while he was away. 

The breathless gasp and Kyrie’s luminous smile tell her Nero’s gift is a raging success. Despite her curiosity, Skylar doesn’t lean over to take a peek at one of the pages. Whatever the book contained was personal, something she had no right in snooping at. 

“I love it.” Kyrie finally says, eyes still lingering over one page in particular. A light blush colors her cheeks as she turns away to look at Nero. “Almost as much as I love you.”

And she kisses him, her hand curving below his jaw. Nico makes a disgusted noise as Nero passionately returns the affectionate action.

“Ugh! Get a room!” The gunsmith groans.

Nero flips Nico off as he continues the smooch. In the background, Nico silently gags at the lovebirds. Skylar sniggers to herself as her friend continues to mime disgusted expressions despite Nero and Kyrie finally breaking apart. 

“Our house Nico. Don’t need a room.” Nero eventually counters with a smug grin. Nico sticks her tongue out at him. He’s ready to flip her off again when he’s interrupted by a hug from Kyrie. 

“Thank you, Nero. Happy holidays.” She whispers, giving him another quick peck on the cheek. This time, his cheeks dust with pink.

“Happy holidays Kyrie.” He grins, a bit breathlessly.

“I think it would be wise for me to go first again,” Kyrie states, having carefully placed all her gifts to the wayside. Skylar is handed a green bag, with various flowers, and butterflies decorating it. She makes a mental note to save the bag to reuse it later.

Careful with the tissue-wrapped contents, Skylar is immediately caught off guard by the plush texture that meets her fingers. She frees whatever fluffy mystery from the paper, garnering a gasp.

“Did you make this?!” Skylar asks in amazement as she pulls a soft scarf from its bag. Its tight weave makes it so her claws won't get caught and accidentally unwind the beautifully crafted gift. She turns it in her hands, marveling at the fading gradient from brilliant hues of red and orange to dark purple and blue. It felt more like a piece of art rather than an article of clothing.

“I did. I was inspired by your Devil Bringer and thought this would keep you warm for the cold months ahead. A scarf is always a useful thing to have.”

Speechless, Skylar runs her hand over the intricate patterns. It’s not long before it's draped around her neck and she’s snuggling into the plush garment, enjoying the extra warmth.   

“Thank you. I love it!”

Jumping up from her seat on the floor, she twirls and strikes a pose. Nico and Kyrie cheer her on, and Nero lets loose a bark of laughter. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it. You look dashing!” Kyrie applauds. It garners one final quick spin and Skylar plops back down, leaning against the couch. Kyrie receives one final thank you before Nero waves for her attention. 

“Well, this is going to come as a surprise but….”

He hands her a box, which she needs to read the tag stuck to it twice to actually believe what she’s seeing. Her eyes dart between Nero and Nico.

“You two actually worked together on something?!”

Nero snorts.

“I know, it’s a miracle. Open it up and see what’s inside.”

With a talon, Skylar quickly slices open the side of the wrapping paper, eager to figure out what was important enough for the two avatars of chaos to cooperate on. Carefully folding the gift wrapping away, she inspects what she recognizes as a black firearms case. Popping open the latches she….

“No way…!” She breaths. 

Skylar lifts the revolver from the case with reverence. It’s similar in nature to Blue Rose, however, it lacks the double barrel that makes Nero’s firearm unique. Instead, it sports a single barrel, with a dark mahogany grip, an elegant carving of a vine of thorns crawling just above the trigger. And…

“For Skylar…” The devil hunter reads the engraving on the barrel. “By Nico and Nero…”

She looks between them in awe. 

“I- I don’t know what to say.” She stammers out. 

“Well, how ‘bout thank ya for one.” Nico jests. “I busted my ass tryin’ to finish that bad boy on time. And didn’t help that Mister Particular over here was stressin' over every little thing!”

From Nero’s resigned sigh, it’s obvious they’ve had this debate several times over. 

“Look it’s her first firearm. It didn’t need all the crazy shit you were planning!” In return, Nico sticks her tongue out at him. He ignores her.

“We tried to base it off of Blue, so it fires the same caliber she does.” He continues to explain. “Makes things easier and we don’t have to carry around two different types of ammo. Difference is, Nico added some extra stuff to the interior. Pop open the cylinder.”

Skylar does just that, the components shifting seamlessly at the flick of her wrist. She spins the cylinder as she inspects it, finding delicate runes etched into the pristine metal. Kyrie leans in for a closer look.

“Not gonna lie, it took a bit of elbow grease and way , way too much coffee, but we finally got something that was both stylish and kick ass,” Nico explains. “That bit of spell work there is pretty much every fire rune I can remember so when ya pull the trigger, get ready for some fireworks!”

“Does it have a name?” Skylar asks, to which Nero shakes his head.

“We both had a few ideas, but in the end, it’s up to you.”

Her fingers trail over the metal engravings as she ponders a name. The dark earthy tone of the grip reminds her of a memory from her youth, picking wild raspberries on hot summer days. It had been a fun adventure, the thorny bushes no match for the tough scales of her Devil Bringer. 

“What about Bramble?” She finally decides. “Fits with the thorns near his trigger.”

“I like it.” Nero grins, Nico nodding in agreement.  “But him, huh? Not a lady?”

Skylar shakes her head.

“Nah, doesn’t have the sass that Blue has,” She admits with a wave of her hand. She deftly spins the newly named Bramble. It’s impossible to wipe the elation off her face, not that she wants to. “Seriously, thank you guys. I’m honestly lost for words.”\

Nero chuckles. 

“Just watch where you aim that thing. That’ll be thanks enough.”

That garners a scoff, but Nero still receives a stalwart nod in return. She and the newly dubbed Bramble would watch his back, just as he and Blue Rose always did hers.

“Well, I guess with us ladies out of the way, guess you’re up nerd.” Nico teases, handing Nero a simple envelope. Skylar holds back a laugh at the collection of random scribbles on the hastily sealed envelope, a sticker of a cartoon… actually, Skylar isn’t sure what that was. 

“Damn, can you ever be nice for once?” He grouses, slicing open the envelope. Nico snorts.

“Maybe this is me bein’ nice and ya just don’t appreciate my brilliance.”

“Yeah keep telling yourself that Nico.”

Nero pulls out a handful of fake crudely decorated paper bills. They look like mock Monopoly money, if the Monopoly Man had a fetish for firearms and heavy weaponry. Nico immediately dives into an explanation.

“They’re coupons from yours truly. Didn’t really know what to make ya, so that’ll allow ya some options. All the components will be on the house. My only request is that it needs to be badass and stylish as all hell.”

That grants the gunsmith a wicked grin. Should Skylar be concerned? Probably. But it didn’t help that she regularly added to the chaos nine times out of ten. 

“I think I can do that.” Nero nods eagerly. Skylar could tell the wheels were already turning in his head, thinking of things to ask her to build. “Thanks, Nico.”

Kyrie’s turn arrives, which has Skylar receiving a surprisingly nervous glance from her. It catches her off guard. There was absolutely no reason for such nerves, Skylar was aware of what hide inside the petite box. Nero was going to love it; she’d bet her right arm on it. 

 Nero carefully unwraps the box and…

“It’s… a recording of me singing,” Kyrie explains as Nero looks at the CD. “So you always have a piece of home no matter where you go.”

Nero stares for a moment, just as lost for words as she’d been a few minutes prior. His magic jumps and flutters, swooping joyfully around him. And while the others can’t sense such joy radiating off of him, the awed expression on his face has her leaning over to the still-worried songstress.

“Told you he’d love it.” Skylar murmurs to Kyrie. Of course, Nero hears the comment.

“You knew about this?” His words are a bit rough from his barely hidden emotions.

“My musical talent came in handy for once. Not like Kyrie needed any help. I was just there to give her some background music.”

That grants her a surprised expression from Nico. 

“You can play?”

Nero answers for her. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty good with a guitar actually.” There’s a teasing edge to his words Skylar doesn’t like. “Can’t hold a tune to save her life though. Sounds like a dying bird!”

Knew it! 

“Oh, shut it choir boy!” She snaps, with no real heat behind it. “Not all of us can sing.”

Nico stops, letting what she just discovered sink in. Skylar winces, realizing what she had just let slip. 

“Wait! You sung choir?!” She blurts, much to Nero’s evident grief. 

Well, payback was a bitch.

Indeed, Skylar had stumbled upon the fact by accident. Nero had stayed the night at her house, the both of them exhausted from a job that had them out till almost dawn. She had been in the kitchen, scrounging around for something to eat, when he had started to sing in the shower, much to her surprise. By no means was he as breathtaking as Kyrie, but the man had a pretty incredible range. Later, she had asked when he had learned to sing and he had admitted, a bit embarrassed, he had joined the choir to spend time with Kyrie. 

It had not lasted long. 

“I thought we were not going to bring that up anymore...!” He hisses. 

Her lips thin and she looks away, her Devil Bringer suddenly seems much more interesting. 

Whoops…!

“Yes! And he was very good! He’s a wonderful tenor!” Kyrie chirps. It’s impossible to tell if she's genuinely praising her boyfriend’s singing ability or continuing to linger on the fact that he at one time sang in choir. Maybe it’s a bit of both. Either way, Nico is way too excited about the revelation. 

“Oh please tell me there are pictures!” She begs. “Because I wanna see—!”

Nero jumps from his seat before the gunsmith can get another word in. 

“Hey! Why don’t we go and try Bramble out before it gets too late?! The rest of the gifts can wait!”

The sudden exclamation catches her off guard, Skylar's fingers wrapping around the velvet pouch hidden in her pocket.

“Oh, uh are you sure or—“ 

His pleading expression and the blush dusting his cheeks has her stopping mid-sentence. Once again, lucky for him it’s the holidays.

“Oh uh, yeah! Sure! Let’s go then!”

Chapter Text

The snowfall had settled from the early morning bluster, leaving the outside blanketed in a pristine sheet of snow. The stalwart oaks of the empty park glisten with icicles, further setting the occasion's magical atmosphere. From within the trees, a soft whistle slowly drifts across the white-tipped grass. A flash of color, winter birds scuttle in the barren treetops. They quietly watch the scene unfolding below.

“Ma’am, ma’am! You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

A soft metallic song chimes through the air. Skylar stares daggers at Yamato in her hands. 

Nico, complaining about the cold, had left to head back inside but had been ecstatic to find that Bramble worked just as designed; the runes resonating at max capacity with every carefully aimed shot. Each round had punched through the haphazardly stacked cans, leaving a melted glob of aluminum in its wake. It was everything that Nero could have hoped, and it was obvious Skylar was excited about their next hunt. 

Hopefully, her aim would stay true and he wouldn’t have to deal with any friendly fire. 

“Nero, Yamato hates me.”

“I know and it’s hilarious.”

He watches as Skylar struggles with the Devil Arm, trying to pull the blade from her saya. It doesn’t budge.

“Oh c’mon, you can’t judge my skill that quickly! Hell, we fight together all the time! Just give me a chance, alright?”

The air rings again and the blade finally acquiesces, letting Skylar unsheathe the weapon.

“Thank you. Geez, Ragnarök’s never been this snippy.” She snags her hand away, almost dropping the katana.  “Hey! I’m only speaking the truth!”

It’s obvious that Yamato is teasing her at this point, Nero recognizing her satisfied chime. She seemed surprisingly eager for their spar, for reasons he is not completely sure of. Ragnarök rumbles happily on his back with equal excitement. 

“Doesn’t seem like I had much of a problem.” He teases. To make his point, he easily frees Ragnarök from his scabbard, twirling the longsword with a flick of his wrist. “Seems like I’ve got the magic touch.”

“Yeah, because you’re already used to working with Red Queen and he knows that. If I didn’t know any better, I think he’s excited to get thrown around a bit. You’ve got a stronger arm than I do.”

There had been a time that they had contemplated swapping weapons, the more accustomed Skylar became to Yamato, the better the two fought together. It had been fleeting, a concept sparked by their differing fighting styles. Yamato was a weapon of speed and finesse, Ragnarök brute force and might. And even though Ragnarök sang for him just as much as he did for Skylar, Yamato did not share such sentiments. There was no Devil Trigger, no fiery specter to guard Skylar's back. Yamato did not sing for Skylar as she did with him, despite the Devil Arm’s constant grumbling about how he fights.

“Alright, the usual rules.” Skylar states, idly pacing. “Don’t want to get blood all over my new scarf.”

“You know, you could just take it off.” He suggests, to which Skylar takes mock offense.

“Hell no! Why would I want to do that? It’s soft and warm! Besides, if anything happens to it, I know who to blame it on.”

Nero rolls his eyes.

“That’s so unfair.” 

At his command, Ragnarök roars to life, blue-tipped sparks jumping from the steel edge. The sword’s power roars through him, eager as a wildfire. To his surprise, Skylar sheaths Yamato.

“You can’t be backing out now. We haven’t even started yet.”

Skylar scoffs, crouching into a low stance. She adjusts her footing, Yamato giving her a pleased hum. 

“Who said I was backing out?” 

They stand off, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Ragnarök howls in the back of his mind cheering to charge in, to which, Nero happily obliges. Snow crunches beneath his boots, melting slightly at the longsword’s blazing presence. Skylar continues to hold her ground, hand hovering over Yamato’s tsuka. 

Nero swings, sparks tumbling into the chilly air. Movements swift and seamless, Skylar spins on a dime, slipping under the strike, drawing Yamato with equal grace. The extreme close-quarter strike has him backstepping to avoid being trapped. He knows this fight was not in earnest, but that still doesn’t stop Yamato from racing toward him. Ragnarök swings up, deflecting her just in time. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Nero crows. Skylar grins, wild and fierce. 

It’s more akin to a dance, every attack fueling the next one’s momentum, the pair never missing a beat. It’s as if he can predict her every move, the sudden swipe of Yamato’s saya feeling choreographed despite having no knowledge of his opponent’s strategy. She parries in turn, each successful evasion leading to another lightning-fast assault. They dance, the style changing to an elegant waltz, a fiery tango, an enthusiastic swing. Every dance, every step, every strike they speak in their own secret language, one that has evolved over so many years of battle. This was not a fight; there was no winner, no loser. 

And despite the clanging of metal and the taunting shouts, it’s the most peace he’s ever felt.

But of course, all good things must come to an end. 

It all starts when Skylar scoops up a handful of snow in an attempt to throw him off balance. Of course, he avoids it and retaliates with his own crudely shaped snowball. For once, the strike hits its mark, causing them to pause and stare at the splatter of snow on Skylar’s jacket. 

Yamato and Ragnarök chime indignantly as they are tossed to the wayside. 

Their battle devolves into a mad dash of hurling snowballs, swords forgotten as they dip and dive to avoid the onslaught of snow. He beans Skylar in the head once or twice, only to receive a retaliatory throw that has ice seeping down his back. Eventually, she somehow gets the upper hand on him, tackling him and throwing the two of them into a massive snowdrift. He’s the first to surface, snow littering his clothes and hair. Skylar emerges soon after, looking equally as winter touched. There’s a beat of silence, the two of them staring in equal amusement. Nero snorts, catalyzing the ensuing fit of laughter. 

They’re still laughing as they pull themselves free of the snow bank, plopping down on the snow-covered grass. It’s only interrupted when Skylar suddenly remembers something. She springs from the grass to stand. 

“Oh shit!” She suddenly exclaims. “I almost forgot!” 

Nero watches as she pats down her jacket. He stands as she continues her search.

“Now where is it…? Ah!”

Digging through her pockets, she eventually pulls out a slim drawstring bag. Without warning, she tosses it to him, his quick reflexes allowing him to snag the bag out of the air. He turns it in his hands, curiously inspecting the purple velvet. 

“I didn’t get a chance to give you this earlier. You can open it now if you want.”

Her boot taps on the snow and she idly picks at a thread on her scarf, careful not to get her talons stuck. Carefully, he undoes the drawstring, emptying its contents into his waiting hand. Two silver bracelets, set on black cords tumble onto his palm. They’re identical in nature except for the contrasting stones set between the looping silver. 

“They’re um…  bracelets I made. Ya know, to go with your necklace and… stuff.” Skylar chews the inside of her cheek for a moment. “One has a moonstone, the other a sunstone. I wanted to let you choose which one you wanted cause well… I’ll be taking the other.”

He looks up at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re giving me a friendship bracelet?” He questions incredulously. 

“Look, I know it’s kinda lame and childish but I thought it would be a fitting gift and I couldn’t really think of anything else so—!“

And Nero laughs. Laughs because somehow in his topsy-turvy life, somehow after feeling so alone, here he sat in the winter cold, holding something that defied all notion of that. Everyone who had doubted him, everyone who had sworn he would never find a home, a family that would love him…

They were wrong. The shining bracelets in his hand are proof of that.

Skylar’s nervous squawk pulls him away from such musings.

“You don’t have to be an ass about it! I mean you—!“ 

Oh shit, she looks crushed. That’s the last thing he wanted. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He soothes, waving his hand to cut her off. He allows his voice to grow soft with his expression. It was the least he could do to express his gratitude. “It’s perfect.”

Skylar falls silent, relief washing over her as she takes in his response. She gives him a quiet nod, lips quirking into a pleased smile. 

Looking between his two options, he settles on the sunstone bracelet, the golden hue as bold and bright as its namesake. Its twin is entrusted to Skylar, evidently still relieved that he likes her gift. Giving the moonstone a quick once over, she seems genuinely pleased with the silvery stone. Nero holds out his left arm.

“Mind tying it for me?”

It’s late, the troop of little rascals finally off to bed. Wrangling Carlo had been easy; the youngun sacked out on the couch halfway through her story. One which, Nero insisted be kept PG despite having to cut out so many details. 

Kyle and Julio had been a bit more difficult, the excitement of the day still fueling them. But when Kyrie had tucked them into bed with Nero’s help and broke out the singing well…

Let’s just say they weren’t the only ones getting lulled to sleep. The local demons even falling prey to Kyrie’s sweet serenade. 

The woman was a damn siren! 

But with the kids asleep, it allowed the adults of the house to have their own fun, the four of them piling into the van, allowing them to chat without fear of waking those who were slumbering or providing any bad influences. Nico had been sure to snag a bottle of wine before heading to the garage, an act that granted Kyrie’s favor. 

“Sooo… I may have one more gift for our two local devil hunters.” They had joked about a drinking game, which was quickly dismissed by the two part-devils among their group. It was common knowledge that they couldn’t get drunk. However, it was their own hubris to doubt her creativity.

“I don’t like the sound of this.” Nero frowns, looking at her suspiciously.

“You and me both.” Skylar agrees, wearing a similar expression of skepticism.

Despite their bitching, Nico unveils her creation with a flourish. 

“Ta-da!”

A festive ribbon is tied at the neck of the bottle holding her homemade concoction. It’s unassuming enough, if not for the strange coloration of the milky liquid inside. 

“Is that eggnog?” Skylar asks, taking and uncapping the bottle. She takes a careful sniff before recoiling back. The devil hunter forces down a cough. “Woah! That’s a lot of booze!”

“What do you…?” Nero begins to say. Skylar shoves the bottle under his nose, cutting off his next words. He goes wide-eyed at the scent, pulling away quickly. “Holy shit! What’s in there?!”

“Eggnog.” Nico deadpans. 

They lance her with an identical bitchy stare. Nico rolls her eyes. Honestly, maybe the twin theory still held some legitimacy. 

“Fine…! You two take the fun out of everythin'. It’s got eggnog as I said earlier, but I also added in some brandy.”

“Some brandy?” 

“Like half a bottle, maybe three-fourths of one. I don’t know, somewhere around there, not that it really matters. I’m tellin' you now, that’s some hard stuff in there too. I took a shot of it and it can and will knock you on yer ass. And well… maybe, just maybe, it might be spiked with holy water so….”

“Excuse me? What?! ” Nero’s voice pitches up an octave. 

“Oh don’t be such a baby! It’s only an itty bit! Just enough to slow down that ungodly metabolism of yours to actually get a buzz. Wouldn’t be fun if you two were just drinking plain old eggnog.”

Skylar gives her a wary look. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” She asks, to which Nico sighs. 

“Look, I ran the numbers and I diluted it down only just enough for your guy’s healin' factor to be only slightly hampered. I tested it with a blood sample I nabbed. The cells recover ninety-seven percent of the time and that’s against full demon blood. It’ll be fine! But if you’re really worried, I could take a blood sample. I mean the possibilities….”

Skylar blinks. 

“You know what?” She finally says. “Hand me a glass. I need to forget everything you just said.”

Nero nods in agreement.

“Agreed.”

They all collect their respective glassware, Nico measuring out the specific amounts that would probably not kill them. 

Probably.  

It'll be fine. 

“Alright, everyone take a drink!” Nico exclaims, raising her beer bottle. “We start this off with a bang!”

“To friends and good tidings!” Kyrie crows. They echo her, all laughing as they clink glasses. Nico takes her sip quickly snatching up her pen, ready to take notes. Nero takes a swig of his drink, immediately staring at it in disgust. Still, he stubbornly swallows it. It was funny, for such a tough guy, he had a very sensitive pallet. 

Skylar on the other hand…

“Eck!” She exclaims, instantly spitting her drink back into her cup. Kyrie covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing. “How do people enjoy this stuff?!” 

Nico suddenly realizes something.

“Wait! Don’ tell me this is your first time drinkin'?!” 

“Well, duh. Why would I? Alcohol’s expensive and it wasn’t like I could buy it until recently.”

“Oh, this is gonna be great! Damn, now I’m really excited!”

“At least someone is.” Skylar mumbles, before taking another sip. Her face twists into a grimace, but she forces herself to swallow. Her mouth opens and closes as if trying to air out the bad taste. 

“‘Kay, I’ll go first. Start off easy. Never have I ever had a kick-ass demon arm.”

“I see what you’re trying to do and I don’t appreciate it.”

“All part of the game Sky.” 

“My turn!” Kyrie chirps. “Never have I ever…”

They go around in a circle for a few rounds, Nico having taken three sips, Kyrie two, and Nero and Skylar tied at four. Nero seems determined to change that when his turn circles around.

“Never have I ever hissed at a goose.” He says, staring directly at Skylar.

The youngest of their group rolls her eyes, taking a swig of her drink.

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” She grumbles, to which Nero shoots her a smug look.

“Not in a million years Goose Queen.”

Nico takes a swig of her beer, causing Skylar to point at her and gesture wildly. 

“Ha! See! I’m not the only one!” She insists. 

“You had a full-on debate Sky. That’s much more than a simple hiss.”

Nico gives an undignified snort.

“You speak goose?”

Skylar mumbles something under her breath. Nero smirks at her embarrassment. 

“What’d you say?”

Skylar rolls her eyes again.

“It’s Infernal, not ‘goose’.”  She sighs. “But… geese can speak a rudimentary version of it. He was using some very colorful language.”

“Why geese?” Kyrie asks, echoing Nico's own question. 

“Hell if I know.” Skylar shrugs. “Oh, and don’t get me started on swans!” 

“You may say that they use some of the…” Skylar pauses for dramatic effect. “…fowlest insults.”

Kyrie giggles at the horrible joke, while Nero shares her own sentiments, groaning at the horrible pun. 

“Fowl, get it?” Skylar asks as she nudges Nero’s side with her elbow, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You’re terrible.” He deadpans. 

Skylar hisses at him.

“Never have I ever bit a demon.”

Nero, Skylar, and Kyrie take a swig of their drinks. Nico stares at Kyrie in complete disbelief, her mouth hanging agape. She quickly snaps out of her stupor to sate her burning curiosity. 

“Wait! I’m not surprised by these two nutcases, but Kyrie what the hell?!”

There’s a mischievous glimmer in Kyrie’s eye that Nico has rarely seen.

“Well, when the kids are at school and you’re stuck at home with one handsome devil….” She shrugs, idly swirling her wine. Kyrie shoots Nero a sly wink, causing him to promptly choke on his drink. The tips of his ears burn red and Nico realizes what the woman had just insinuated. 

And Nero had just confirmed.

Nico throws her head back, howling with laughter. She shouldn’t be surprised Kyrie had a bit of a wild side. She was dating a half-demon after all.

“Since when has Kyrie hunted demons?” Skylar asks, tilting her head. 

Unable to contain herself, Nico falls into another fit of laughter, smacking the side of the driver’s seat. Nero looks as if he’s ready to become one with the couch, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. Skylar looks between the three of them still evidently confused. Of course, Nico makes it her duty to educate the poor naïve devil hunter.

“You know Skylar when a man and a woman love each other very much… or well a man and a man, or… a woman and a woman…”

“Nico!” Nero shouts, as he almost springs off the couch, his voice cracking a bit. Skylar’s eyes widen in realization and she takes a hearty gulp of her drink. 

“I never needed to know what you two do behind closed doors…!” The young hunter grumbles as she looks between Kyrie and Nero, a bit mortified. “And I never want to learn anymore…!”

As if just to spite them, Nico takes the opportunity to dig for more juicy details.

“Never have I ever…” She starts. The two devil hunters look at her in alarm. 

“You can’t go twice!” They both exclaim for varying reasons.

Kyrie giggles and takes another drink. 

“Well, of all the things to happen, I did not expect this. I didn’t even think he could do that.”

The cabin hums with a soft purr rumbling from Nero. In the midst of their strange rivalry, he and Skylar had started calling prompts specifically about stupid things the other had done on varying hunts, with Nero wracking up a count of three glasses and Skylar with four. Nero's glass empty, it sits loosely in his grasp. Kyrie makes sure to take it from him so it doesn’t fall. The action catches his attention, his dilated pupils wavering in attempts to focus. A loopy grin spreads across his face. 

“Wow… I can’t believe how beautiful you are. Just, completely just…” He tries, and fails, to act suave, haphazardly throwing his arm over the back of the couch, leaning in a bit closer to Kyrie. “Are ya seeing anyone?”

Nico can tell how desperately her friend is trying to keep her composure. Resting her glass on her knee, the woman dips her head a bit closer, using her free hand to play with a stray lock of his hair.

“I am, in fact.” 

His eyes widen, a blush creeping up his neck. Hanging his head a bit lower, Nero’s disappointment is evident for all to see.

“Oh, um… well…!” Nero fumbles, awkwardly scratching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, and he’s very thoughtful and kind.” Kyrie continues, moving her hand to gently cup his cheek. “One of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. Do you know who he is?”

Nero idly shakes his head, but is nonetheless entranced by her every word. Kyrie pauses for dramatic effect.

“He’s you silly!”

When her words finally sink in, the effect is instant, a jolt of serotonin racing through his veins. Nero looks at her in awe, eyes alight with excitement. If anything, he looks like an oversized puppy. Nico would bet all her earthly possessions that if he had a tail, it would be wagging wildly. 

“Me?! Wow! How’d I do that?!”

The gunsmith scoffs into her own drink. 

“Got me. Honestly been askin’ the same question myself.”

Nero seems to not have heard her, instead curling up closer to Kyrie, lightly nuzzling her neck. The purring grows louder as she gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Not gonna lie, drunk Nero is pretty hilarious. But um…”

Her attention is drawn to Skylar, sitting quietly on the couch, staring down at her empty glass. She spins it in her hands, passing it back and forth a few times before setting it down. Her expression is pained, melancholy radiating off in waves. Nico’s surprised at how well she’s held her liquor so far. 

“Hey, ya doin' okay over there Sky?”

Skylar gives a silent nod, her head still dipping low, attention dragged away into another dimension. 

“All of you are too nice to me.” Skylar suddenly mumbles. “I don’t deserve any of this. Legion’s still out there. It always has been. I can’t help but wonder if I…”

Her eyes suddenly tear up, her breath catching in her throat. She shakes her head.

“What if it’s my fault that my parents are dead? It’s already my fault everyone at the orphanage is. Everyone I’m around, I just hurt even if I don’t mean to. And I jus’ don’t want to hurt you guys, you don’t deserve that, and I can’t—“ 

She flinches as Nero plops his head on her shoulder. He warbles a soft chirp in question, another noise Nico has never heard from him. From Kyrie’s baffled expression, it’s evident neither has she. They stare, watching a strange, yet endearing scene unfold. 

Butting his head against her cheek, Nero shifts a bit closer, investigating Skylar for any signs of injury. When he finds nothing, he warbles again, catching the younger part devil’s attention. Skylar looks up at him, and Nico’s never seen her look so… lost. Tears prick her already watering eyes, a soft whine whistling from the back of her throat. It evolves into a whimper, which from the distressed sound that escapes Nero, is not what he intended. Carefully, he maneuvers her so that she’s smushed against his side, only to rest his chin atop her fluffy wintery crown. He purrs again, wrapping her into a side hug. Skylar relaxes into the embrace with a soft chirp. Nero responds in turn, shifting to allow her head to rest on his shoulder. The purring sound grows louder, Skylar adding to the hushed rumbling.

Careful not to disrupt his younger counterpart, Nero gently curls up against Kyrie's side, nuzzling her neck. He settles his head there before closing his eyes. The silence does nothing to help the worried thoughts swirling around Nico’s head. Only when Skylar slumps bonelessly against Nero’s side, and Nero’s even breaths match the fiery devil hunter does she speak out loud. 

“I remember you sayin’ that thing about that demon but… fuck.”

While Skylar was around her age, it was still disturbing to think that someone so young has had to be on the run for so long. Nico had never heard the complete story of what happened, she didn’t want to open old wounds, but what she had just heard chilled her deeper.

A kid. She was a kid when all this bullshit started.

On her shoulder, Nero shifts uncomfortably, his expression pinching ever so slightly. Kyrie gently brushes a stray lock on Nero’s head back into place, running her fingers through his fluffy hair a few times. Nico had found out how soft the snowy locks were herself. One slow afternoon, Skylar had allowed her to braid her hair, after much pleading. Nico didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but to learn that both of them had effortless feathery soft hair did feel very unfair. 

“She has a tendency to isolate herself,” Kyrie admits grimly. At her gentle ministrations, Nero eventually settles again. “It’s why we make it a point to invite her over at least once a week. The two of them carry a lot of the same guilt. Nero worries about her as do I.”

“But… she’s gotten better, right?” 

Kyrie ponders her question for a moment. 

“You can never fully recover from something like that. But, yes, she seems, happier now, more at peace. They talk and I think that’s helped, helped the both of them.”

Nico solemnly shakes her head.

“Much as I give both of ‘em shit, they don’t deserve the fuckery that they’ve been through. Hell, that you all have been through. Not fair, ya know?”

Nero had mentioned Agnus only a few times before. Most had been in passing, early on in their friendship when the devil hunter was still wary of her. One day, he had been in a particularly bad mood, one that, after much prodding caused him to snap. 

Nightmares. 

Her bastard father had emotionally scarred him so horribly that he still had nightmares years later. Nightmares that were relivings of when the monster kidnapped Kyrie, a woman who had already lost her entire family. 

And yet, she too had not been spared. Kyrie had been scarred as well.

How could they show such kindness to someone whose family has hurt them so? 

“Kinda get what it feels like to feel at fault for your family's actions. I mean, it was my daddy who cooked up all this shit and…” The admission slips by accident and she’s thankful it’s only Kyrie hearing such shame. 

Damn, maybe she’s had a bit too much to drink.

“I’m sorry Kyrie. For everythin' that’s happened.”

Carefully untangling herself from Nero, Kyrie slips off the couch to crouch in front of her. Nero whines in protest, a noise which, if the circumstances were different, Nico would have given him so much shit for. But all she can do is soak in Kyrie’s gentle expression. 

“Don’t blame yourself, no, never blame yourself for that.” Kyrie insists. Her tone is soft, yet her words carry unfathomable weight. “Being related to him doesn’t make you at fault. And even if it did, everyone deserves a second chance. If you want to be better, then who’s to stop you? That just makes you even better in my eyes. Please, don’t feel like you owe us anything. You don’t and I’m sure Nero would say the same thing.”

“Ya know, when I came wanderin’ over here, the last thing on my mind was findin’ somethin’ like this. You’re good people Kyrie. The whole lot of ya.”

“And you are too Nico. You may not believe that, but I do.”

The hug that follows is one of the warmest she’s ever received. And right then and there, Nico vows that whatever happens, she would be there to protect her newfound family, no matter the cost.  

Crap, why did his mouth feel so dry? And, ugh, it felt like his skull was buzzing. The hell?

Nero pries open his eyes to look blearily around the dark interior of what is certainly the van. A heavy blanket has been draped over him, keeping out the morning cold. His vision adjusts quickly and he spots a few water bottles neatly lined up on a nearby chair. He spots a note attached to them in Kyrie’s neat script.

Good morning!   

Nero smiles at the heart drawn at the corner. 

He goes to reach for one of the bottles when he finally notices the weight pressing at his side. Looking over, he finds Skylar’s head resting against his shoulder. Her chin peeking above the blanket, the rest of her curled under it. Her soft, even breaths signify she’s still asleep. 

For once, she looks peaceful. He decides to wait a bit and let her rest. 

Carefully, Nero leans forwards, plucking a bottle from the chair. He sips on it for a while, swirling the contents in his mouth to try and rid himself of the foul taste. On his second bottle, he feels closer to normal, the heavy weight of whatever was affecting him quickly starting to wear off. If anything he was a bit hungry now. 

He watches the slow rise and fall of the blanket and decides it would probably be good to check if she's feeling alright. Nero gives her a gentle nudge.   

“Sky? You up?”

Skylar tiredly lifts her head, swiping her vision across the van. It’s obvious that she’s out of it, just as much as he is. She freezes a moment when she realizes she’s not alone but quickly relaxes as she figures out it’s only him. Her expression suddenly twists as she smacks her dry lips. Nero bites back a laugh at her disgusted expression. 

“Ew, my mouth tastes like booze. I did not think my first time drinking would go over like that.” She finally catches sight of the water bottle in his possession. “Hey, wait where’d you get that?”

“Kyrie left them.” That earns a hopeful look.

“Did she leave one for me?”

Nero shrugs and the hopeful expression steels into one of determination. 

“Nero, I swear, I know you’re bullshitting. Hand me a water bottle.”

“What’s the magic word?”

Skylar untangles an arm from the blanket and flips him the bird. A short huff of laughter escapes him before he snatches the bottle and hands it to her. Cracking it open with a mumbled “thanks”, she drains half of it in one go.

“Damn.” She grumbles. “Still tastes horrible. How do people like the taste of it?”

To his surprise, she settles back at his side, plopping her head against his shoulder. 

“Planning on getting up anytime soon?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. Skylar makes a noncommittal grunt.

“Not really. The van’s warm and outside is cold. I’m happy where I am.” 

“You’re lucky you’re like a miniature radiator.”

“Fire magic has its perks.”

Nero hums.

They sit in peaceful silence, the outside world dulled in the confines of the van. To his surprise, he feels a unique sense of calm, the demonic part of him content in a way so foreign to him. He was so used to it always stalking the confines of his soul, eagerly awaiting the next bloody battle. Once in a while, it would settle down, especially when he was around Kyrie. 

But here? Now? 

It’s still, silent in a way he never thought possible. For a moment he wonders if it’s still the alcohol taking effect, but he knows that’s not the case. No, for once in his life, he feels… safe, as if nothing in the world could harm him. He has someone to watch his flank, someone he knows he can trust to fight by his side.

His head dips, sleep still heavy on his mind. Warm and safe, it beckons him, having already stolen Skylar away again in its embrace. Eyelids drooping, closing the curtains on the world around him, he instinctively tucks himself closer, resting his head against hers. With a content sigh, he’s just about to drift off again when—

The van door slams open, obliterating the peace. So violently jarred awake, Skylar’s forehead makes a direct impact with his own. He curses, reeling back. Usually, something like that would be nothing, except when it was a skull as dense as hers. Despite the dull pain, he stands ready to jump into action. Albeit a bit slower from being shaken from sleep again, Skylar is just as on guard. 

Had something happened while they were asleep? Skylar tenses and he shifts over to give her room to charge forward at whatever may be lurking—

Nico barges in. 

“Holy shit you guys are up!” Clambering for a notepad, the gunsmith starts scribbling her observations. “Quick, tell me how ya feel!”

“What the hell Nico?!” Skylar groans, rubbing her head. Apparently, she wasn’t left unscathed.

“What?! Not like I ran in here and dumped a bucket of water on ya. You’re lucky Kyrie was there last night. It’s the only reason why you two don’t have marker all over yer faces. So now ya owe me!”

“Owe you?” Nero balks. “For what?! Being a decent human being?!”

At Nico’s shrug, he sighs. 

“Tired.” He relents. “And my mouth tastes like shit.”

“Probably your body recoverin' from the holy water. Should probably clear in a couple hours now that you’re up and about. Sky?”

“Same here. Kind of want to go and hit another eight hours but I’m also kind of hungry.”

“Overworked metabolism… then there’s thyroid activity level and kidney function…” Nico mumbles to herself before raising her head abruptly. “Oh yeah, got some great pics too! Kyrie’s got her eye on a few to put in the family album. Also got a few hilarious vids of Sir Purrs-a-lot over there.”

His cheeks burn at Nico’s comment and Skylar’s ensuing laugh. 

“Ha! You can purr?!” She teases. However, it tapers off at Nico’s mischievous expression. 

“Oh don’t worry Sky, didn’t forget about you.” Nico plays a video on her phone, turning up the volume for all to hear. Skylar fingers twitch when she hears what is evidently her purring. “And before you go tryna snag my phone to delete them, I already sent them all to Kyrie and backed them up several times on various devices, so good luck with that.”

The devil hunter doesn’t speak. Eventually, she shakes her head and makes for the van’s exit. 

“I’m never drinking again.” She mutters, much to their amusement. 

It’s the alcohol, he tells himself, as Nero unlocks his phone and stares down at the familiar number. That’s what’s driving this rash decision-making.

His finger hovers over the call button, and hits dial before he can change his mind. The phone rings for a bit and he’s unsure if he’s relieved or not when he’s directed to voice mail. There’s an electronic beep and it takes him a moment to collect his thoughts to speak. 

“Uh, hey old man, it’s Nero. I don’t know if you’ll get this, but uh, I just wanted to say, happy holidays. Haven’t heard from you in, well, a long time and uh… was just checking in.”

He readjusts the phone next to his ear, awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“Um… just feel free to reach out, ya know? I learned some cool new tricks with Yamato that I bet you wouldn’t be able to handle. And… well, there’s someone I think you should meet. A lot’s changed since we’ve last talked and…”

“Nero come play with us! Nico‘s playing unfair!” Julio calls from downstairs. 

“Am not! Not my fault ya don’t know what tribocorrosion means!”

“Nico stop cheating!”

“But I’m not! For once!”

Nero barely contains a short amused huff. He shakes his head.

“Anyways, Kyrie says hello. Hope you’re still alive, or whatever. Just… take care of yourself, alright? Need you in tip-top shape for our rematch so I can kick your ass.”

For a few moments, he stands there, silently praying for him to pick up. But like many times before, he’s left with only disappointment. Nero sighs.

“Talk to you later Dante.”

Chapter Text

Her spoon smacks away sly fingers from stealing another chocolate chip from the countertop. It elicits an offended squawk from the would-be thief. Kyrie was well aware that Skylar was quick enough to nab more of the sweets without her being any the wiser, which made the act of catching her much more amusing. Brandishing the spoon, she waves it to shoo another attempt. 

Smack!

“Ah, c’mon Kyrie!” Skylar whines. “We have enough for everything. What’s a few missing?”

“Your ‘few’ could be the whole bag. I’m not going to encourage your rampant sweet tooth.”

“Fine…” The devil hunter dramatically sighs. “I’ll just be over here, working away as I slowly starve. Don’t mind me.”

Kyrie chuckles and returns to scooping the chilled dough onto the baking sheet. Every few scoops, Skylar adds a few extra chocolate chips in the shape of different little faces. 

She looks at the clock, only to realize how much time had passed.

5:45.

With Nico and Nero still in the garage, it would take a good fifteen minutes for them to tidy up. Then there was always wrangling the boys to come and sit down. That was plenty of time to get dinner out of the oven and allow time for it to cool. Maybe Skylar could pop in the baking sheets in the meantime. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be eating soon. If, of course, you can survive that long.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe if I can get one more—“

Smack!

“Ow! Damn, you’re deadly with that thing!”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. You’re not the only one with a sweet tooth. Nico and Nero have met the business end of it as well. Speaking of those two…” 

Kyrie brushes her hands on her apron. 

“Hey, you two! Dinner’s ready!” She calls over her shoulder.

“Be right there!” Nero answers from the garage. 

“Skylar, could you get the casserole out of the oven? I want to finish washing these.”

“On it.” The devil hunter nods, crouching down to open the oven. It’s still a bit jarring to watch her grab the piping hot dish with her bare hands and carefully place it on the stovetop. The first time she had done it, Kyrie admits she had panicked. Luckily, instead of third-degree burns, Skylar only had a confused look. A rushed apology followed soon after. 

Fiddling with the oven again, Skylar slides in the cookies.

“Does the table need to be set or anything?” 

Kyrie shakes her head.

“Nope, already done. There is one thing you could help me with though.”

Kyrie offers her a batter-covered spoon. Skylar’s eyes light up with glee. 

“Now that’s something I can certainly do!”

Nico eventually wanders into the kitchen. Kyrie is not surprised that she immediately spies Skylar’s prize and proceeds to try to steal it from her. The chase quickly ends when the young devil hunter heartily licks the spoon and immediately offers it to the gunsmith. Nico makes a disgusted noise. To her ill fortune, Skylar takes this as a sign to wave the saliva-coated spoon closer. 

“Ugh! If I wanted to work with demon slobber, I’d be askin’ ya to grab me a Hellbat!”

“Fine, more for me then.” Skylar taunts, taking another lick of her spoon.

“Surprised, nimrod hasn’t made his appearance yet. Wonder what’s takin’ ‘im so long?”

Kyrie wonders the exact same thing.

“I’ll go check on him.” She decides.

Leisurely strolling down the hall, she tries to decide if she should call the boys down for dinner yet. She chooses to wait and give Nero time to wash up after working in the garage. He always had a tendency to get grease on him no matter how careful he tried to be.

“Sky! Eck! You’re so gross!” She can hear Nico complaining. Kyrie smirks. She can only imagine what Skylar is up to. 

Opening the garage door, she peeks her head in to see Nero talking with a stranger. Concern twists in her gut, realizing she can hear the stranger’s rattling breaths from across the garage. Was the man injured? She watches as Nero’s arm dances with a surreal glow. 

“Nero, the food’s getting cold. What’s goi—?“

Nero’s Devil Bringer flares in warning and he whirls around, wearing a mask of terror she hasn’t seen since… since….

“Kyrie! Get back inside, now !”

It happens so fast, the crashing shelving unit and clattering paint cans ringing over Nero’s muffled yell as he’s thrown across the garage. Tumbling to a halt, Nero gasps, hot agony flashing on his face. Kyrie barely registers that the stranger is now holding something…

The stranger… no, the monster…

…is holding Nero’s severed arm. 

A guttural scream fills the garage, the splatter of blood coating the concrete. Nero claws the ragged stump of his arm. There’s a crash from the kitchen, another scream just as agonized follows soon after. She barely hears Nico’s panicked shout above the blood-curdling chorus.

“Nero!” She screams, snapped from her stupor as he collapses. 

Steps thunder from down the hall. Not a moment later, Skylar stands in front of her not unlike how she did in the alley, all of those years ago. Blocking her from the demon’s view, Kyrie observes how the woman trembles, her pained gasps unable to be disguised. However, as she lays eyes on the scene before her, she tenses. 

The air blisters with suffocating heat. It’s the only warning she gets before Skylar barrels into the garage, fighting through whatever agony may be ailing her. There’s a monstrous howl of rage, her Devil Bringer flaring violently. Kyrie stands there, frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from Nero’s struggling form. He fights to rise despite his gushing wound. His pained gasp only seems to fuel the devil hunter’s rage. 

In the blink of an eye, Nero’s severed arm transforms into a familiar blade. Despite the intruder’s decrepit state, it parries Skylar’s feral swipe, slashing out at her with equal bloodlust. She goes to block with her Devil Bringer, but the blade slices cleanly through the hide. Staggering back, Skylar— 

The devil hunter gasps, weakly clawing at the blade lodged squarely in her chest. Demonic energy pulses through the air, Yamato glowing with an eerie light. Skylar writhes, a silent scream clawing up her throat. Kyrie watches as more blood drips onto the already ruined floor.

“I’m taking this back.” The demon wheezes.

Yamato is brutally ripped out. 

Thud…!

Even Kyrie can feel the chaotic magic rolling off of Skylar as she attempts to stand and continue their fight. The scales of her Devil Bringer climb further up her arm, and Kyrie watches the ghost of… something, blinks into existence, tearing and crawling from the woman’s back. It’s humanoid in shape, mangled and scarred. Heart-wrenching screams tangle and overlap, the overwhelming dissonance almost too much to bare. Neither of them sounds like her friend, either too high-pitched or too guttural to be right. Skylar collapses, the specter being forcibly pulled back into wherever it appeared. The garage rings with a deathly silence. 

Kyrie’s back is suddenly shoved against the adjacent wall. A hand smothers the surprised cry threatening to escape. Nico holds her still, using her free hand to place a finger on her lips. Fear is evident in her eyes.

A ragged cough echoes from the garage. 

“I’m running out of time.”

She listens to the wavering steps, the alien warble that follows soon after. All the while she stands there, shivering head to toe, hoping, praying, that the love of her life still draws breath. When silence falls again, even Nico can’t stop her from bolting into the garage.

“Nero!”

Crashing to her knees, she ignores the blood soaking into her skirt. Instead, she cradles Nero’s head, desperately trying to wake him. His skin feels so much colder than usual, his demonic heritage always having him run a little warmer. The only way she knows he’s still alive is the strained puff of his breath and the weak flutter of his pulse. He’s still, so still, empty of all his normal exuberance. 

Kyrie barely contains a sob.

“I leave for ten minutes!”

Nero doesn’t so much as flinch when Nico tightens a wire around the bleeding stump. Blue Rose is clutched tightly in her hand. Kyrie prided herself on her level head in the face of danger, her time at the clinic constantly testing her ability to remain calm. But looking down at Nero, silent and pale…

“Kyrie, got your phone?” Nico asks, snapping her from her spiraling thoughts. “Call an ambulance while I check on Sky.”

All Kyrie can muster is a numb nod. She reaches into the pockets of her skirt, clasping the small device with trembling hands. In the background, muffled and far away, Nico calls Skylar’s name, evidently trying to rouse her. It takes a few times to will her fingers to move, blood smearing on the screen as she swipes to unlock her phone. 

Nero’s blood.

“Holy shit!” Nico suddenly yells. The ensuing chaos snaps Kyrie from her stupor.

Blue Rose skids across the garage as Nico is knocked backward. An inhuman snarl rattles the garage, causing her to look up. Did it come back to finish the job? Kyrie does her best to hide Nero behind her, despite knowing such action was useless.

Yet, instead of the demon, she meets Skylar gaze flicking between her and Nero. Any flicker of hope is replaced with cold dread as Kyrie locks eyes with her. Eyes that are void of their usual kindness, the soft gaze she has come to love now replaced with a feral glint. She can’t help but flinch back as Skylar screeches at her, displaying a sharp pair of canines for all to see. The scales seemed to have climbed to the base of her neck. 

“Skylar…?! What’s happening?!”

Kyrie searches for any consciousness in those wild eyes. Her heart stops when the devil hunter tilts her head towards Nico, still recovering from her fall. Another growl thunders in her chest as she stalks toward the gunsmith.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Nico hisses, scrambling for Blue Rose. Skylar flexes the claws of her Devil Bringer, the talons flickering with flame.

“Skylar! Stop! Stop!!!” Kyrie shouts, but the woman pays her no mind.

Having retrieved Blue Rose, Nico pulls back the hammer. Her hands shake as she points the barrel at Skylar’s chest.

“Don’t make me do it Sky! ‘Cause I will!” Nico’s voice wavers. “ Please, don’t make me do it!”

Another screech. Skylar storms forward.

“Skylar! No!”

There’s a blur of movement followed by the clatter of tools hitting the concrete slab. Skylar howls in rage as Nyx slams into her, sending her sprawling onto the floor. Fenrir pins her there, a series of barks and growls emanating from him. His coat smolders with flame, lighting the garage with a fiery glow. Despite being outnumbered, Skylar struggles against his grip, using her talons to slash at his muzzle. The action garners another impact with the ground. 

Dolos stands guard next to Nico, his fur bristling in warning. Now faced with a much bigger threat, Skylar focuses her ire on the deadly duo. She forcefully pushes Fenrir off of her with a snarl before whirling around to defend herself against Nyx. The two grapple, Nyx using her strength to push Skylar closer and closer to the garage door. It takes Fenrir pulling her by the back of her shirt to drag her outside. Kyrie does her best to block out the panicked screeches and howls. 

Stumbling upwards, Nico smacks the button to close the garage door. She stands there for a minute, unnaturally quiet.

Swallowing thickly, Kyrie attempts to steel herself. Whatever was going on with Skylar could wait. Right now, there were far more pressing matters. 

Dialing her phone, she calls for help.

It’s the next day when she hears tapping on the window. Although it was morning, the sun has yet to crest the horizon, leaving the land teetering between night and dawn. The creak of the window opening causes Kyrie to raise her head from the hospital bed. A dark form slips in, causing her to freeze. Violet eyes meet hers, before flicking over to Nero’s still form. 

Padding across the room, Nyx gives Nero a tentative sniff, a soft growl of discontent wavering through the air. Carefully, she butts her head against Nero’s leg hoping to rouse him.

“I wish it was that simple.” Kyrie sighs, watching the Shadow’s futile attempts. Her words cause Nyx to stop, turning her attention to her with an expression Kyrie can only describe as sorrow. With a final chuff, Nyx walks around the bed, resting her head on her lap. The demon purrs, nuzzling her hand with her massive head. Tears prick at the edges of Kyrie’s eyes. 

No. Kyrie fights back a sob. She had to be strong. She couldn’t break down when Nero needed her right now. She couldn’t…

She tries to distract herself, running her fingers through the silky fur. Looking at the Shadow, Kyrie can tell something is off. The demon seems to be unable to hold her gaze, ever so often flicking over to Nero. Her head hangs low, regret lacing her frame. 

Mourning… the demon is….

“I’m sorry…” Kyrie whispers hoarsely, stroking Nyx’s head. “I know how it feels to lose someone you love.”

The Shadow’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t move from her spot. A soft, pitiful yowl whines from deep within the great beast. Nyx presses up against her and Kyrie can feel a slight tremble. She lets loose a shaking breath. 

“I’m just, I’m just so scared to lose him too. I don’t know what I would do if….”

Nyx nods her head in understanding. Despite the inability to speak, the Shadow had picked up many human gestures over the years. 

“The one you lost, it was your mate, wasn’t it? That’s why you're so protective of your cubs. ”

Another nod. 

They sit for what feels like hours, Kyrie silently watching the rising and fall of Nero’s chest to assure herself he still lives; Nyx at her side as a silent sentry. However, their vigil is interrupted by Aether slipping through the window. He nuzzles his mother in greeting, earning him a soft lick.

“What is it?” Kyrie asks as she watches the Shadows converse. They turn to her, staring at her for a moment. Years back, Kyrie would have thought this was her doom, the two demons simply planning the best way to devour her. Now, she can pick out the mulling twist in Nyx’s expression, and the somber frown in Aether’s. Finally, Nyx addresses her again, walking up to the window and signaling her to follow.

“But….” Kyrie looks back at Nero. 

Sensing her distress, Aether brushes against her side, before curling up at the foot of the bed. He looks up at her, sending her a silent promise that he will keep guard. Nyx continues to sit at the window, patiently waiting for her. Only when Kyrie approaches does Nyx kneel down sending her a pointed look. 

“You want me to climb on?”

Nyx rumbles in agreement. 

Carefully, Kyrie swings her leg over the Shadow’s back. To her surprise, she can feel the demon’s form shift around her legs, seamlessly adjusting to her weight so that she is secure. Nyx rises, causing Kyrie to grab onto the demon’s scruff for balance. Other than a quick glance back, the Shadow doesn’t complain. Instead, she stretches, muscles rippling beneath her coat. It’s the only warning Kyrie gets before Nyx leaps out the window.

They race through the empty streets in the quiet of the morning, Nyx expertly navigating through the city to the outskirts and into the depths of Mitis Forest. Kyrie keeps silent, not wanting to draw any attention to any demons that may be lurking about. She trusts that Nyx knows where she’s going. It’s not long before she smells the scent of smoldering ash, some of the surrounding tree trunks burnt from a sudden blast. 

Nyx slows her breakneck pace, easing to a halt. Allowing Kyrie to slip off her back, Nyx blocks her path, stopping her from continuing deeper. While the action garners some confusion, Kyrie stays back while Nyx disappears into the brush. It’s a couple of minutes before the Shadow appears again, beckoning her to follow. Kyrie does so, Nyx glued to her side as they traverse the scorched landscape. 

Kyrie gasps.

Tucked next to a fallen tree is Fenrir, blood soaking his glorious midnight coat, glistening off of the obsidian spikes layered through the dense fur. He still burns with a roaring flame, smoke curling from his maw with every exhale. The scars on his muzzle glow molten, matching the tired eye that opens to meet her. He rumbles in greeting. 

“Fenrir, what…?”

It’s only then does she notice the prone form curled up against the great demon’s flank. Fenrir noses it.

“Fen… what are you…?”

Skylar gingerly raises her head. Blood sticks to her normally clean white locks, painting the side of her face. She freezes when she sees her.

“Kyrie…!”

Her feet carry her forwards despite Nyx’s concerned growl and Skylar’s fearful expression. Crashing to her knees, she tucks the woman into a hug before pulling her back to inspect her for injuries.

“Are you hurt?! When you collapsed, I didn’t—“

To her surprise, Skylar flinches back. 

“Kyrie, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe!”

“Any demons would be foolish to try and attack with Fenrir and Nyx around, you know that.”

Skylar shakes her head.

“No, that’s not it! I—!” Skylar squeezes her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. Kyrie is ready to ask what if she’s hurt, but she is stopped by Fenrir’s warning look. Never before had she seen the wolf look this worried. When the air flickers with embers, she understands why. She finally notices the sharp glint of predatory canines as her friend clutches her head and the deep growl emanating from her chest. 

There was something dangerous lurking beneath, something testing the bounds of its newfound freedom. Skylar pants as if having just battled through a horde of demons.

“There’s something… wrong. I don’t know what, but… I don’t feel in control anymore.” Her voice wavers, small, tinny, and full of fear. She looks up at her helplessly. “I don’t know what to do…!”

She gulps, trying to fight back her tears. It proves ineffective, a strangled sob escaping.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I almost, almost... oh god Nico!” She rasps, tears streaming from her eyes.

“You won’t. I know you won’t.” Kyrie insists, to which Skylar shakes her head.

“I’m sorry!” Comes another sob. “It’s all my fault! If the wards hadn’t failed, none of this would have happened. Nero wouldn’t be hurt. He wouldn’t have lost his arm!”

Tears prick the corners of her eyes despite all of her crying the days before. How everything could change in a matter of an instant.

“You can’t say that. Besides, who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been there? You did everything you could Skylar. Do not blame yourself. I don’t blame you.”

Kyrie lets the tears roll down her face, renewed by another’s shared agony. They cry together for what feels like an eternity, Skylar clutched tightly in her arms as if fearful to let go. Skylar does the same, her human arm holding her tightly, with her Devil Bringer held away from her. It’s as if there’s a renewed fear of the appendage, reawakened by such tragedy. 

“Please… I just need something, anything. This is so much more than anything I’ve faced.” Skylar whispers into her shoulder, so very lost. “I don’t know what to do.”

Skylar trembles in her arms, both from her roiling emotions and evident exhaustion. And as Kyrie stares at the woman’s red hood an idea unbidden arises, leaving a bitter taste. A part of her wonders if such an action would break Nero’s trust, his tumultuous sentiments leaving him uncertain about how to connect with his estranged family. 

The family that kept him at an arm’s length. 

However…

She hoped Nero would understand.

“I think I know someone who might.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Chapter Text

The door rattles again, the persistent knocking louder and more forceful. Dante sighs. What did people not understand about being closed? Once again, he pointedly ignores it, his focus turning back to his magazine. They would give up eventually. 

“Are you going to get that?” Lady asks from her spot on the couch. She holsters the sidearm that she had been fiddling with. “Could be a job.”

“Already got enough on my plate Lady. You want it, it’s all yours.” 

There’s a scoff from the couch. Her boots clack on the scuffed hardwood as she saunters toward the locked double doors. 

“And if I remember correctly, you still owe me money. You’ve got interest that you owe me too.”

He looks up in disbelief, the pounding door forgotten for a moment. 

“Interest?!” Dante balks. “What the hell Lady?! Where’d that come from?”

Her hand on the handle, she gives him a smug look.

“Being gone for two years will do that. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Lady unlatches the lock, swinging open one of the doors halfway so that her body blocks the entrance. Continuing to feign disinterest, Dante watches her from the corner of his vision, keeping an attentive ear on the ensuing conversation. He doesn’t like how her breath hitches for a moment. His hand hovers to where Ebony is stored in his desk. 

Nothing caught Lady off guard. 

Nothing .

So why did…?

“Uh hi.” A young woman’s voice awkwardly greets from outside. “This is Devil May Cry, right?”

“Just like the sign says.” Lady pauses. “But, I’m going to guess you’re not here for a job.” 

There’s silence, which Dante assumes is a head shake. Shifting in his chair, he doesn’t understand why he feels so antsy all of a sudden. Lady’s uncharacteristic silence does nothing to help. Especially when she suddenly turns around to face him. What’s with the weird expression? Was she… nervous? 

“Hey, I’m heading out. I want to meet up with Trish and hash some stuff out. I’ll see you in a few days.”

She pushes past the door and the stranger before he can comment, her hurried steps foreign to his ears. Nevertheless, he continues to scan through his magazine even as the stranger closes the door behind her. His nonchalant act does not last for long; Dante tenses, finally tasting the demonic scent in the air. The familiar scent. With a snap of his head, he stares at the hybrid standing in his entryway. A mirror of his own eyes stares back at him. 

This has to be a joke.

“Are you Dante?” The woman, the kid , really, asks. He takes a moment to respond, sizing her up and allowing himself to dawn his usual nonchalant mask.

“The one and only. Now, while I would love a fan club, I don’t take lightly to people stealing my look.”

White hair, blue eyes, everything about her screams of some familial relation. It’s like meeting Nero all over again, even down to the bandage-wrapped right arm. Maybe she was another clone, like Trish. She could have been sent by Urizen, the name V liked to call the twisted remnants of his twin. The thought has him on guard, the memories of his destroyed office making him fearful for his meager savings.

“Good, then I’ll cut to the chase.” She completely ignores his prior statement, stepping purposefully towards his desk. Demonic energy radiates from the large duffle on her back. “I need to know everything that you know about the Yamato. From what she can do, what some—“

His boots slam against the floor. The loud noise causes the kid to flinch, her arm twitching for her hip. Dante notes the telltale gleam of a holstered gun.

“What type of sick game do you think you’re playing?!” He snarls, dark and angry. This week has already been shit since the mention of his brother, so his patience was already thin. “Did someone put you up to this? Morrison? That guy V?!”

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time here if this was a game.” She snaps back at him, even though she’s evidently wary. 

“And what are you gonna do, beat it out of me?  

“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. Don’t bullshit me. You can’t just drop that something like that has to ‘stay in the family’ and know nothing about it.”

He freezes, having only spoken such words once in his life. Dante focuses, eventually picking up a subtle icy scent clinging to the young woman. It had been years, but the scent of his nephew was not something he could easily forget. 

It was unforgettable, just like the metallic smell of blood mixing with it.

“Who the hell are you?! If you did anything to him, I swear—” He starts to say, but he doesn’t get to finish. This time, she doesn’t shy away, taking a challenging step toward the front of the desk. To his dismay she plants her hands on the dark wood, looking him dead in the eye.

“If I did anything! Says the guy who ghosted him for almost six years! Do you know how much that’s messed with his head?! And then you send the sign and…!”

She huffs in frustration. 

“Never mind.” With a shake of her head, she reigns in the rage obviously bubbling beneath. “That doesn’t matter right now. So I’ll ask you again… why would someone want Yamato?”

His chair screeches across the floor, its back colliding with the nearby wall. 

“You are treading dangerous waters, ya know that?” He all but growls, leveling his gaze with hers. The mask is tossed to the wayside, the threat to his family much more of a priority than keeping his cool. Usually, that would be enough to scare anyone with any sort of self-preservation.

“I don’t care!” She growls back. To his surprise, her eyes flash silver. The air wavers with unstable magic, her rage surging forth in a bitter angry snarl. She slams her hands against the desk causing it to creak under the force. “I’ll swim shark-infested waters if it means I hunt down the fucker who tore off his arm!!!”

His next words die on his tongue and he looks at her with a mix of horror and disbelief.  

“What…?!” Is all he can say. 

Her fingers tense, scratching on the desk, leaving shallow indents in the wood. 

“A demon invaded his home and ripped off his Devil Bringer.” She hisses, every word laced with venom. “Nero’s. Arm. Is. Gone!”

The office echoes with her heaving breaths, fury surging with every exhale. 

Guilt crashes into him, already drowning him in waves. He scoots his chair forward and sinks back into it to stare blankly at the rageful hybrid before him. All this time he had kept his distance in an attempt to keep Nero safe from the dangers that followed him. 

And it had been for nothing .

“Is he…?” Is all he can say. He receives a quiet nod, some of the anger bleeding away. 

“Yeah. He’s alive. In a coma, but alive.” She informs him, stepping away from his desk. She idly wrings her hands.  “Doctor says his body just needs time to recover. He’s too stubborn to die without getting some sort of payback. I just, I need to know what we’re up against. The moment he’s awake, he’s going to go after that thing.”

For the first time, she drops her gaze, staring pointedly at the floor. It’s obvious he’s not the only one dealing with guilt.

“I… I can’t fail him again.”

He sighs. Not entirely sure what to say next. 

“Look kid, don’t get involved in this if you know what’s good for you. Go home and try to talk some sense into him. Your life is probably better off not knowing anyways.”

Dante receives a dark, bitter laugh. 

“You know we’re talking about Nero, right? I have a better chance of winning the lottery.”

She silences again. For a second her brow furrows, desperation taking hold. 

“Please.” She finally says, no, begs . “You’re my last lead. I’ll take anything I can get at this point. I just need something, anything to explain what the hell is going on.”

She’s desperate in a way that only loved ones were. He had encountered such clients in the past, ones who had tiptoed into his office with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few personal treasures, pleading for him to do something to help their spouse, friend, or child.  

How was he supposed to say no to that?

“Yamato is a powerful Devil Arm, created to separate the human world and the demon world. A blade sharp enough to cut through anything.” It was a mystery of what was safe to say, a dance of half-truths and omissions that he still clung onto security. But the kid seems to connect something in that brain of hers, dropping her bag, which elicits a heavy thunk .

“Even the barrier between them…” She mumbles as she rummages through it. “That demon tree in Redgrave. It’s a Qliphoth, isn’t it?”

That catches him off guard. The only way he knew that name was from what V told him. 

“And how’d you put that together?”

Her search results in a journal, bound in demon hide. Its blueish motif already allows him to guess who it belongs to. The demonic energy flitting off of it confirms it. It’s slid across his desk.

“I found this in Fortuna’s library, hidden behind a bunch of trippy spells. In it has a bunch of stuff about a demonic tower called Temen-ni-gru, but it also mentions some stuff about the Qliphoth, an ancient demonic entity that granted god-like powers to anyone who consumed its fruit. It matches everything I’ve read to a tee.”

Dante flips through the journal, doing his best to maintain his composure as he recognizes his brother’s looping script. He had always had a penchant for cursive, doing his best to copy Dad’s neat penmanship. Two extra sets of handwriting hover above the harsh scratches of Infernal. Dante shakes his head, not surprised by his twin’s paranoia. Leave it to Vergil to encrypt his own secret diary. 

“And if what I’m suggesting is right, well then….”

“Well, nothing.” He declares as he snaps the book shut. Dante purposefully avoids looking at it as he slides it back across his desk. “Because I’m gonna take care of it before anything else goes to shit and before Nero wakes up. Even he can’t fight something that’s already dead.”

He’s done it before and he can do it again. If V was telling the truth and Vergil had returned to the land of the living, he would end him, no matter the heartache, just as he should have all those years ago. He was the one burdened with his father’s title. He would be the Legendary Dark Knight everyone had come to fear, for what else was he good for than destruction?

She gives him a strange look, one that’s achingly familiar but he can’t quite place. It speaks of her evident displeasure at his answer and her frustration in knowing that he was right. Unless she marched into the demon lord’s chambers alone, there was nothing she could do to stop him. Her shoulders slump with an unknown weight, one he knows she should not have to carry at such a young age. The dark rings under her eyes speak of many sleepless nights.

“If he means anything to you, please, end all of this before it’s too late.” She finally says. “I don’t think I could bear seeing anything else happen to him.”

“I promise kid. I won’t…”

I won’t let him fall like his father.

“…let it get that far.”

“For your sake, it better not. Because if anything else happens to him, you won’t just have me breathing down your neck. Kyrie sounded ready to storm over here and give you an earful herself. And trust me, she may look all sweet and stuff, but you really don’t want to piss her off.”

And with that, the woman turns to leave without so much as a goodbye. However, her determined footsteps falter as she glances down at her phone. 

“Damn it…!” She hisses under her breath. Frantically scrolling down, she types something in before cursing. 

His curiosity gets the better of him.

“Doing alright there?”

To his surprise, the kid looks embarrassed, anxiously tapping her foot. Working her jaw, it seems as if she has to pry the words out of her mouth. 

“Uh… I missed my bus.” She admits lamely. “Um, do you know any places to stay around here? I’m not picky. Honestly, the cheaper the better. Just… anywhere away from people.”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. This was a horrible idea.

“You can crash on the couch if you want. Can’t beat free if you’re being cheap.”

She stares at him dumbly, obviously caught off guard. 

Whelp, too late to retract his offer now. 

“We’ve known each other for less than ten minutes and you’re offering me a place to stay? Are you serious right now?

Dante shrugs.

“Why not? Friend of Nero’s a friend of mine. The couch is comfier than it looks.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she tries to find the right words. 

“I… I don’t understand you.”

For the first time, he laughs, shooting her an easy grin as he crosses his arms. The mask is slipped back into place. 

“Not many do kiddo. It’s all part of the appeal.”

The scowl he receives is Nero-esque in the way only mimicked by years of exposure. Any doubt that she was bullshitting him is quickly forgotten. 

“I have a name, you know? One which, by the way, is not ‘kid’.”

“And one that you haven’t told me yet.” He counters. “I may be many things, but a mind reader isn’t one of them.”

Her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing with sudden embarrassment. She awkwardly clears her throat and fidgets with the bandages on her arm.

“Yeah… that may help, huh…?” Despite her initial fumble, the young woman straightens herself, hiding any prior discomfort. “Skylar. My name is Skylar.”

Kind of an obvious name, her blue eyes and fluffy white hair an obvious inspiration. But it’s not a bad name, for what he imagines were the circumstances. 

Who had bestowed to her that name? Her mother? A stranger?

Another question hisses in his mind, unbidden. 

Had she grown up alone? 

“Well then Skylar , the couch is all yours if you want it.” Dante stretches, before heading for the stairs. He doesn’t want to think about such things. Doesn’t want to think that another of his family had been left to the wolves. “I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lock the door before you turn in, will ya?”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, steadily taking the stairs up to his room. Shutting and locking the door behind him, he lets out an unsteady breath, letting his back press against the door. 

She had to be Vergil’s. Right?  

There was no way that he’d sire a kid without knowing about it. Yeah, he’d been a bit wild in his youth, but he eventually realized that he didn’t enjoy company in that sort of way. It was an excuse to be close to another, to fulfill that desire for contact, for–

It had been his birthday, their birthday , a year after everything that happened at Temen-ni-gru. The first anniversary of losing his brother, again . There had been alcohol, probably too much alcohol… and….

Velvet lips ghost against his, a soft chiming laugh brushing against his ear. He had let go that night, let go of the pain and misery, losing himself to another’s embrace. 

And he had woken up alone, the only evidence of the night prior being the soft scent of her strawberry perfume and a few long brunette hairs against his pillow. He had wanted her to stay, maybe in a selfish endeavor to mend his already broken heart. It had been a mistake, one that had shattered the remaining pieces, one that he had locked away and never reopened in over twenty years. 

One that might have resulted in so much unknown suffering.

Dante waits in his room for around an hour, listening for any sounds of movement downstairs. When he hears nothing, he carefully cracks open the door, tiptoeing back into the foyer. Rebellion sits heavily against his back, only adding to the crushing weight of dread. 

In the dark, he observes the young devil hunter from midway down the staircase. Curled into a tight ball, Skylar’s steady breaths signal that she is indeed asleep, her head tucked atop her bandaged arm. Dante can see the crimson scales peaking through the fabric, the orange glow dim in her slumber. The scales crawl further than he first thought, reaching midway up her neck on her right side.

What happened to you, kid?

Careful not to wake her, Dante draws Rebellion. He knows that it would be a disaster if she were to wake up, only to find him looming over her with a sword. With that in mind, he silently crouches down, angling Rebellion towards her. He holds his breath as he draws the blade closer.

And…

His heart drops as Rebellion sings in his hands, in the way that he only does when he wields him. Just as Yamato had for Nero years ago. Dante sits there for a moment, letting the realization finally sink in. 

He had a kid. 

He had a daughter. 

The demon curled up inside him tentatively tilts its head, curiously reaching out to inspect the young quarter demon. He allows it a careful sniff, instantly regretting it as it croons. 

A nestling.

His nestling. 

Dante bats down the sudden urge to comfort the kid as she suddenly whines, curling deeper into herself. He reaches his hand out, fingers hovering over the familiar white locks. Dante stares for a moment, only to draw his hand away. Standing, he battles with the turmoil swirling within. 

All this time and….

Another whine, her expression pinched in pain. Whatever was wrong was certainly growing worse, the unstable flicker of magic noticeable even without touching her. He was going to have to have some sort of contact if he wished to investigate further. 

But… it was none of his business; Skylar had done a fine job without his meddling. 

Her fingers curl, biting into her palm. The whine turns into a whimper as she unconsciously grits her teeth. 

But he just couldn’t just leave her like this….

Gathering his courage, he crouches down and places a careful hand on her head. Dante winces at the mess which is the kid’s magic, snapping and writhing within her in a way that was in no way healthy. It’s a slow unravel, like a spool of thread, the loose string twisting and tangling behind it. With Skylar asking about Yamato, he can only assume the Devil Arm is the cause.

She must be exhausted when she doesn’t wake up to his touch, his hand resting atop her head. He forces himself to remain steady, fearful that any tremor in his hands would wake her. It’s a surprisingly difficult task. But she calms, her jaw relaxing, muscles uncoiling for what he imagines been days. Fortuna was not a short trip, about a day’s drive by car, if you were lucky with the traffic. He had done the drive six years ago when he was oblivious to the young man that resided on that island. 

He doesn’t know if he misses such days, free of that fresh guilt swirling in his gut. It reawakens with a fury, one that thrashes, twists, and writhes with every soft glide of his fingers through her feather-soft hair. The kid has yet to wake up, and he realizes she probably won’t anytime soon. His mere presence seems to have soothed her ramshackle magic, her Devil Bringer glowing with a warm light, silver trickling into the molten hue.

She probably feels safe, he realizes. A baffling notion that is only confirmed by the protective croon from his demonic soul. 

He remembers feeling so safe in the presence of his father, an instinctual sort of comfort that only came from shared blood. Devils had a sort of innate sense of it, the tendency to travel and hunt in packs was a strong driving force. To be on the other side of that… well….

She’s a stranger , the human in him knows and rationalizes. There are no ties other than blood.

After so many years of being alone, what was blood to him anyways?

But doesn’t make it oh so more important, another part of him growls. 

But that would be selfish. To stumble into her life after so much time has passed is only asking for trouble. And what right did he have, after everything?

Leaned against the arm of the couch, he mindlessly continues his soft ministrations, despite every human instinct screaming at him to stop; that he was just setting himself up for heartbreak. She would probably hate him, knowing that he had been here all this time, that his own negligence had robbed her of her childhood; a life that could have been. 

And there he realizes, his heart sinking deeper at the notion, that he continued the cycle his father set in motion, seeding the same doubt he had grown so familiar with.

Was he not good enough? Why did he leave? Why did he abandon him?

And there he sits, pain and guilt festering within him. He had abandoned her to the world, just as he had abandoned Nero to the world and its untempered wrath. 

Dante isn’t sure how long he sits there, hushing the exhausted devil hunter back to sleep. At one point he meets a tired blue eye, which causes him to freeze. However, its partially reptilian pupil lazily glances at him before simply drifting back off to sleep. He knows she doesn’t register him, at least, not in a way that matters.

Eventually, dawn filters through the windows, pale light dancing on the walls. It’s only then that he pulls his hand away, standing and dusting himself off. For a moment, he allows himself to enjoy the quiet of the morning as if the fate of the world was not once again weighing on his shoulders. 

He would finish this, and break the curse that had been inflicted on their family for decades. 

He would finish this—

Skylar shifts, sleep loosening its hold. Silently, Dante slinks up the stairs, rounding the corner of the balcony, and lingers in the shadows. There’s a rustle of cloth and leather that catches his attention, a tired groan followed by the muffled pop of joints. The kid stands, walking idly around the office. A minute or two later, he hears a muffled mutter from the kitchen and the sudden rush of the tap. Footsteps echo back to the front of the office. There’s a tear of paper and the scratching of a pen. 

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until the front door softly clicks closed, plunging the office back into silence. 

Dante exhales, long and slow, the breath rattling slightly despite his efforts. Making his way back down the stairs, his eyes cautiously flick across the space. Nothing seems to be out of place, other than the neatly folded piece of paper and the filled water glass on his desk. 

Plucking the former off his desk, he notes the scrawling, smudged, script.

Thanks. I hope we cross paths on better terms.

- Skylar

P.S. Water your plant. It’s dry as a bone. 

Why he reads the note several times over, despite its curt nature, he’s not sure. She’s left-handed, he realizes, just like his mother. The fact jabs his heart more than it should. 

Water glass in hand, he strolls over to the dumb cane plant jammed into the corner of his office. An apology gift from Trish. Carefully, he pours the glass’s contents onto the evidently parched soil. Dante mumbles a soft apology to Fernando, before walking to the kitchen to get the palm another glass of water. 

As the tap runs, his mind wanders to that fateful day, one that had him staring down his twin, scarred pasts and warring ideals tearing them apart. The rush of the waterfall had deafened him, and yet, Vergil’s declaration had eclipsed that. His words had dripped cold dread despite his newly awakened demonic blood, flash freezing when Vergil had stepped off the edge. 

If things had been different, would he have stayed?

Would he have cared for him, cared as Skylar evidently did for Nero? 

An impossible question. 

But the past was the past, no matter how much it haunted him; no matter how much his palm still burned from Yamato’s wild swipe. 

You couldn’t save him, but there’s still a chance to save them.

He would finish this, he swears to the silent office. 

Empty. 

Alone. 

He would finish this…

No matter the cost.

Chapter Text

The dense foliage of Mitis Forest makes it difficult to maneuver, yet V continues to trudge through the thick bramble. After Nero had retrieved his gear, he had requested the boy to lead him to where he was sure the pilot had landed. With the aircraft disappearing into the treetops, only Nero had any idea of where the helicopter might be. V hopes his faith is not misplaced. 

Griffon circles above, once in a while swooping low, weaving between the trees. The chatterbox of a demon makes a snide comment every once in a while, to which Nero responds in turn, with surprisingly little heat. Nothing like when he first awoke, all snapping fury, vengeance on his mind. V can tell the boy is distracted by something. This is a worrisome notion, especially with what they are about to face. 

Whizzing helicopter blades catch his ears. Nero seems to hear them as well, quirking his head toward the noise. 

“Hey, I’m going to scout ahead. It’ll be quicker. Sit tight, alright?”

V doesn’t get a moment to object, Nero disappearing into the shadows. Griffon squawks in annoyance. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding! Who does he think he’s dealing with?!”

V's body chooses the moment to betray him, his vision blurring from a sudden wave of vertigo. Everything feels too heavy, his muscles straining against some invisible yet impossible force.

He feels as if he’s crumbling like sand. 

“Maybe you should sit down Shakespeare.” The demon suggests. Shadow appears at his side to steady him. His head butts up against his hip in worry. “You’re not looking too hot.”

“I’m fine.” V brushes him off. “If all goes to plan, this will all be over soon.”

Griffon lands carefully atop his shoulder, tilting his head to address him. 

“Sure, sure. But I mean, what if Nero is not enough? You’ve already sicked Dante and his posse on Urizen. Boy wonder is not gonna make much of a difference if all goes to shit.”

“Better to have a contingency, despite its unreliable nature.”

Brushing Griffon off him, he stands, a slight wobble in his step. Shadow growls in annoyance, but doesn’t stop him, disappearing once more. Ignoring his creaking bones, V marches through the brush. Griffon takes to the air again, circling nearby. Making a sharp left, he crouches under a thick branch, the leaves—

“Holy shit!” The demonic bird screeches. Bark splinters as Griffon is bashed into a nearby tree.

Whirling around, V summons Shadow, to his side. 

“Hey, freakshow!” Griffon chokes out. “Claws off the feathers!”

Shadow snarls in the direction of Griffon’s assailant. The bird is pinned to a trunk, molten claws tightening around his throat. The woman’s face is obscured by the forest’s muddled shadows, but V catches the gleam of a revolver in her left hand. Despite her dangerous presence and armed state, he steps towards her, idly swinging his cane. 

“I would do what he says,” V states matter-of-factly. “We’re on a bit of a timetable. Besides…”

Griffon disappears in a shower of inky particulates, only to reappear on V’s outstretched arm. Flapping his wings, he takes to the air again, circling the figure.

“…You’re surrounded.”

Griffon fires off a volley of electrical strikes, gunning after his opponent. Shadow is hot on his tail. 

“C’mon Kitty! Let’s finish this quick! I like my payback fresh!” He crows. 

Sliding out of the way of Shadow’s sweeping attack, the figure stumbles into the light of the waning moon. Her demonic arm shines dangerously in its pale rays. There’s something, familiar about his attacker, cusping at the edge of his waking memory. But there was no time to dwell on such fleeting machinations. 

There was a battle to be won.

A wave of his hand, Griffon fires a bolt of lightning that scorches the ground and some of the surrounding trees. Luckily, nothing catches alight, a predicament that would most likely be to his detriment and the woman’s advantage. He tries to corner her in the thicket of oaks, commanding Shadow to continue his breakneck assault. V watches the ensuing chaos with a calculative eye, wordlessly commanding his familiars with masterful efficiency. The ensuing dance is made more difficult by the forest’s numerous trees, the woman dipping masterfully past the barrage of attacks. It’s obvious she’s familiar with the terrain. 

However, Griffon eventually lands a lucky shot, stunning his foe. Her steps become more frantic, the dance beginning to spiral into something purely chaotic. V takes the moment to flip open his book, landing on a poem he finds particularly appropriate.

“The wild winds weep, 

         And the night is a-cold; 

Come hither, Sleep, 

         And my griefs infold: 

But lo! the morning peeps 

         Over the eastern steeps, 

And the rustling birds of dawn 

The earth do scorn.” 

She dodges another volley of lightning, still not having said a word since her appearance. So V continues to speak in her stead. 

“Lo! to the vault 

         Of paved heaven, 

With sorrow fraught 

         My notes are driven: 

They strike the ear of night, 

         Make weep the eyes of day; 

They make mad the roaring winds, 

         And with tempests play.”

Shadow attempts to spear her, his long neck extending into a nasty spike. With a short hop, the woman balances on the demon’s extended neck, pressing the barrel to V’s head. Her haggard breaths grate against his ears. And yet, he continues to read as if he wasn’t a trigger pull away from death. 

“Like a fiend in a cloud 

         With howling woe, 

After night I do croud, 

         And with night will go; 

I turn my back to the east, 

From whence comforts have increas'd; 

For light doth seize my brain 

With frantic pain.”

V finishes the final verse of the poem, sealing his foe’s fate without her knowledge. Nightmare stirs from its slumber, radiating demonic energy through his bones. Her face is obscured, but he can hear the fury creeping into her voice as she speaks.

“You like poetry, huh? Well, Nevermore… that’s what you’ll be in a few seconds if you don’t tell me who the hell you are!”

V looks up at her with contempt, unbothered by her hissed threat. Nightmare itches at the outskirts of his mind, the primordial demon ready to be summoned and to wreak havoc on his foe. He raises his hand, a snap of his fingers and the woman would be smashed to a fine paste. His enemy’s finger twitches at the trigger, the air around them suddenly desert dry. 

“Skylar! Wait!” Nero commands behind him. Time freezes, screeching to a stop at the edge of unimaginable violence. 

The arid heat vanishes, smothered by the cool night air. His assailant spins around in disbelief. 

“…Nero…!” She stares at the boy in shock. Her next words are whispered, unbelieving. “You’re awake. You’re actually awake!”

The newly dubbed Skylar abandons all hostilities, jumping from Shadow’s neck and sprinting past him. Nero stumbles back, the force of Skylar’s embrace catching him off guard. Careful of her clawed hand, she wraps her arms around him, clinging to him as if he were to disappear. Curling his arm around her, Nero seems to try to comfort her. 

“I’m sorry.” V can hardly hear her apology, fighting back what he realizes is a choked sob. “I’m so sorry Nero.”

Nero shakes his head, evidently denying any fault she may have. The two exchange words, hushed that V cannot make out anything said. His breath catches when he finally gets a look at her snowy hair and tear-riddled blues. However, when he sees a few tears roll down Nero’s cheek, only to bury his face into Skylar’s shoulder, V turns away. 

Another one carrying the blood of Sparda. 

How he did not know. Perhaps another one of Dante’s, a sister to Nero. 

A twin. 

But…

It would be easier if they were trying to kill each other, the blood of Sparda is always destined to battle. Watching the weeping reunion refutes all logic. There was no rivalry, no desire to fight.   

They… cared for one another. 

Unwanted memories of a childhood long forgotten skirt the edges of his mind. They are fuzzy, wispy from Mundus’ torture, his time as that wretched Angelo. And yet, there they are, a young Dante staring at him with puffy red eyes. A nightmare, he barely remembers. His little brother had had a nightmare. 

“It’s gone…” Nero laments, pulling Skylar closer in his already bone-crushing hug. V breaks from his thoughts to listen again. “I can’t…”

Skylar hushes him, rubbing soft, soothing circles on his back. He pitifully shakes his head. 

“I can’t feel anything Sky.” He whimpers. “I can’t sense you anymore.”

An alarming notion, one that leaves him reeling and causes Skylar to pale. Any lack of sensitivity to magic boded ill, however, to be able to feel absolutely nothing…?

Perhaps he was a fool for seeking Nero out. 

“We’ll figure it out.” She responds. “I promise. You, me, Kyrie, Nico, we’ll figure it out.”

Skylar receives a shaky nod as he attempts to find comfort in her words. Nero clears his throat, swiping his sleeve over his eyes to dry them of any remaining tears. He receives a clap on his good shoulder, an assuring nod following soon after. There was trust. Trust that V never thought was possible. 

Why couldn’t they have had such a reunion in Temen-ni-gru? Why did his brother turn his back on him? He had raised it to gain the power to protect them. To rain vengeance upon Mundus and his pawns. So why hadn’t he—?!

“So… we gonna get this show on the road or—?” Griffon interrupts, reforming on his shoulder. There’s a click of metal, and the girl pushes Nero behind her. Her revolver is shoved in the foul-mouthed demon’s face.

“Woah! Woah!” Griffon reels back. “Hold it Little Miss Trigger-Happy! Fuckin’ hell!” 

“What’s a Griffon doing here?!” Skylar demands, her gaze flicking to him. 

V hides any discomfort at her piercing stare.

“He’s my… familiar. An assistant, if you will. He will not harm you. Unless, of course, you attempt something foolish.”

The comment causes the demon in question to scoff.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Shakespeare.”

Having recollected himself, Nero commands their attention as if he hadn’t just experienced an emotional breakdown. 

“Skylar this is V.” He casually gestures. “He’s the one who has details on the demonic bastard we’re looking for. V this is Skylar, my partner in crime.”

“Charmed.” V greets plainly. The girl narrows her eyes.

“Sure….” She sighs in reply. With a shake of her head, she turns to Nero. “Alright. So, what’s the plan?”

That catches Nero’s attention and he stands a bit taller.

“You’re coming with us?” The boy asks hopefully.

“I should be knocking your ass out and dragging you back to the house so Kyrie can talk some sense into that thick skull of yours.” Skylar leers. Nero tenses at the evident threat. He doesn’t relax even when she pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head. “But, knowing you, that’ll only slow you down. Besides, this is your fight. I won’t take that from you. I just… Nero, this is something so much more than we’ve ever faced before. This is way bigger than Legion. Are you sure about this?”

V tenses, garnering a concerned look from Griffon. Legion? How did she know about—?

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Nero nods with certainty. “I can’t let this go Sky. And if anything were to happen to Kyrie or the kids because I stood aside, I couldn't live with that.”

The girl seems to consider his words, though it’s clear in her expression that she still worries.

“Alright then.” Skylar eventually agrees, determination replacing all signs of doubt. “Let’s get hunting then.”

Chapter Text

Despite the twisting corridors of the Qliphoth, Skylar doesn’t feel lost; if anything, her feet guide her as if tugged along by some invisible thread. Her connection to Nero’s magic having been severed, she’s unnervingly clueless if he senses the same thing. 

Nero shoves past the towering demonic door, giving Skylar her first look at the devil that they were expected to face. Raw demonic power crashes down upon her as she passes the threshold. Devil Bringer burning at the overwhelming aura, she grunts in pain. The sound causes Nero to glance back at her and he pauses for a moment. Waving her hand dismissively, they enter the demon king’s throne room.

Red blurs across the room. A man, dressed in a red leather coat is violently thrown to the ground. He tumbles a few meters before skidding to a halt. He coughs and Skylar can see blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. 

Dante.

Struggling to stand, he grows evidently panicked at the sight of Nero. Weakly reaching out towards him, Dante flops back onto his back, unable to muster the strength. Despite Nero’s confident facade, concern bleeds through. 

Bang!

Blue Rose lashes out, stopping a spiked tendril from impaling the unguarded man. With a spin of his wrist, Nero holsters her again.

“Well… Looks like this won’t be a total waste of time after all.”

Nero saunters forward, full of false bravado. 

“Hey, jackass! Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not nice to steal?”

The demon king leers at them, unmoving from his throne. He looks bored as he observes them. Despite his silence, Skylar can feel his focus flick to her. 

She stiffens. 

“Sorry Dante…” Nero suddenly crows, drawing her attention. He’s seemingly unperturbed by the enemy before him. Skylar knows better, the slight tremor in his arm all too telling.

Red Queen roars to life. 

“I’m baggin’ this bitch!” 

Nero snarls and rushes towards the usurper, Red Queen blazing behind him. Skylar wordlessly flanks behind him, keeping to his right side. This was his fight, his pride on the line. She would merely act as an extension of his being, the ghost of his stolen arm. Years of battling together would allow them to fight as a single entity.

Hopefully… that would be enough.

Waves of plasmatic projectiles zip by them as they barrel toward the demon king. Cleaving Red Queen downwards in a devastating strike, Nero staggers back a bit. The seemingly benign crystal floating around the demon king materializes before him, blocking Nero’s blow. 

This just got a lot more difficult.

Using numbers to their advantage, Nero and Skylar swap between bashing the crystalline sentry. With every swing Nero delivers, Skylar backs it up with two more. They step in time with each other, their movements flowing in perfect rhythm.

The crystal shudders. Sensing a sudden surge of magic, Skylar slips under Nero’s overhand swing, bracing Ragnarök in front of her. 

Shink!

Her Devil Bringer protects her from being skewered by the large crystalline spikes colliding with her blade. The force of the strike causes her to stagger back. Ducking and rolling her shoulder below the blow, Skylar steps backward, Red Queen zipping overhead. 

There’s a satisfying crack.

Grinning, Skylar swings Ragnarök in an upwards str—

Desperately clawing at the ground, she tumbles to a halt. Bruises begin to form from the sudden shockwave of energy. Her healing factor quickly stitches up any scraps as she—

Plasma cuts through her shoulder. Throwing herself out of the way of another barrage, Skylar searches for Nero in the cataclysm. 

She spots him across the arena, dancing away from a massive fireball. Sweat sheens on his brow, further reflecting the deadly heat radiating around the room. By some miracle, Skylar stumbles over to him. Twisting away from a falling bolt, she notices the burn mark marring Nero’s side. She takes up her position beside him, ready for another assault. 

“You good?” She pants, glancing over at him.

“Better than ever….” He growls out. “Let’s get this bastard!”

They charge again and her arms scream from what feels like her millionth swing. Again, Ragnarök helplessly bounces off the barrier. Nero’s quickly losing momentum as well, having swapped to Blue Rose to mitigate the strain of fighting with one arm. He aims low, crouching behind her as she delivers a devastating helm breaker. 

Crack!

C’mon… c’mon!

Pivoting, she snatches Blue Rose from his hand, trading him Ragnarök in one smooth motion. A speed loader is clenched between her teeth. Drawing Bramble, she fires the pair of revolvers in rapid succession. On the third shot, she snaps open Blue Rose’s cylinder. Empty casings clatter to the ground. With a flick of her neck, the speed loader soars through the air, a direct course with the revolver’s cylinder. 

Click!

Ragnarök plunges into the crystal. Blue Rose and Bramble reign hell from afar. 

Crack!

Yes!

Just as Ragnarök returns to her, a hand grabs the back of her jacket. 

Whoosh!

Nero pulls her back, the laser singeing where she stood seconds before. Her blood suddenly boils, something scratching and clawing at her insides. A hoarse scream escapes her gritted teeth as they almost feel as they grow longer, sharper . Panting, she—

Crack!

Her vision swims as she cranes her neck. The world blurs together in nauseating waves. Blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth. A rough cough.

Nero!

Beaten and bloody, Nero struggles to rise. He cries out in pain as he raises his head. 

Magic burns wickedly from the demon king’s throne. 

Stumbling to stand, Skylar’s claws dig into the crimson-stained floor. Littered with blood and debris, she staggers forward, away from the Skylar-sized dent in the wall. 

Ragnarök.

The blade lies abandoned on the floor.

Her body howls in protest with every step. Nonetheless, she quickly builds momentum, sprinting across the arena. Brandishing her Devil Bringer, she digs for the last shred of magic coursing through her veins. Again, it snaps at her, wrong, so very, very wrong.

Sliding, she grabs Ragnarök and skids to a halt in front of Nero. Plan B then….

Fwoosh!

Her free hand jams into her pocket, pulling out the firecracker. She lights the fuse.

It goes hurtling through the air. 

The fireball races towards them. She does her best to shield him, standing her ground. Her breaths grate against her ribs. 

Boom!

The tree shudders, the room filling with feathered wings and hellfire. A draconic specter roars to life, towering above them. It claws the ground, its powerful tail thrashing. 

“Holy shit…!” Nero wheezes from behind her. Skylar wordlessly agrees.

Well… at least it wasn’t a dud.

With a snap of its wings, the dragon bolts forwards, barreling into the fireball. It smashes through with a snarl. Rearing back, it slams into the barrier, molten claws tearing into the invisible wall, energy sparking around it. 

The usurper waves his hand.

With a rush of power, the specter goes flying. 

A wailing keen.

It dissolves in a shower of sparks.

Skylar shivers. Her muscles tremble in a way she’s never experienced before. A year’s worth of work only to be waved away so easily. Their last chance, destroyed in an instant. Dropping to her hands and knees, Skylar weakly turns her head, looking up at the demon king. Her blood freezes as he observes her as if she’s a mouse trapped in a cage.

”Curious….”  Her brain translates the bone-shuddering growl rumbling from his throat. However, there’s no time to contemplate the demon king’s comment. He raises his hand again. 

Skylar’s heart stutters.

Get up! Get up! You can’t die here! You can’t let him die here!

Broken bones grind against each other. Blood drips from barely scabbed wounds. She can hear Nero’s ragged breaths. 

Move! Move damn it!

She- she can’t—

Bang! Bang!

Skylar whips her head around. 

Dante stands tall, a pair of wicked-looking pistols grasped in his hands. Panting, he glances over at her, a conflicted look on his face. Skylar stares back, unable to look away. 

Dante glares at the usurper, demonic power rolling off of him.

“Round two!” 

In a flurry of embers, Dante activates his Devil Trigger. Unlike Nero, Dante physically transforms, horns sprouting from his head, his red coat transforming into leathery wings. Skylar watches in awe. In a blink of an eye, Dante is locked in a struggle with the demon king, his sword grinding against the invisible barrier. Debris rains down from above, the arena on the verge of collapse.

“V, get them out of here!” Dante commands, his words tense from fighting off the demon king’s attack. “This was a bad move!” 

Nero struggles to stand, body trembling with exhaustion. 

“I can still fight!” He yells in defiance. His fingers tighten on Red Queen’s hilt. Dante snarls in frustration, a hair-raising noise that stops the both of them dead in their tracks. 

“Nero go! You’re just dead weight.”

And just like that, Nero’s expression crumbles, his spirit shattered by four simple words. Skylar winces, imagining what emotional turmoil he must be suffering through.