Chapter Text
Thunder clashed in the east, partially shrouding the Blood Moon in the west. A haunting chill rode the wind, carrying with it a sense of unease that settled over the forest like a shroud. The familiar scents of ozone, wet soil, and crushed leaves did little to alleviate the tension that permeated the dark wood. Within that forest, an instinctive wariness hung thick in the air—a bone-deep awareness that something significant was happening, something that could alter the course of their world.
The predatory trees, who hung corpses in their branches to lure their prey, curled their grasping vines closer to their trunks. A great creature of shadows and characteristics—one who understood only its own grasping, all-encompassing loneliness and its desire to accumulate others within itself—tried to hide its massive body beneath a tangle of bushes. A deformed monster, driven mad by the sheer volume of characteristics it had consumed, stopped its crazed shouts and fell silent, staring up at the sky. Hunters, ambush predators, and all manner of beasts sequestered themselves in caves, dens, dense foliage, and grottos, all with the same instinctual desire to stay out of sight of the biggest powers of them all.
Gods were in the forest.
Every creature within the forest could feel the two Goliaths meet in a clearing, and every creature held its breath.
---
On one side of the clearing stood a tall, raven-haired woman with beautiful blood-red eyes. Her dark crimson dress bore intricate black lacing, cut in a strangely medieval European style, with wide open sleeves and a low V-shaped neckline. She had an unmistakable aristocratic bearing—beautiful porcelain skin, high cheekbones, supple red lips. If not for the bat wings and the glowing, shadowy phantom moon hovering at her back, one might believe she was human.
Her beauty was mesmerizing. Alluring. A siren's call that beckoned one closer, that whispered promises of agreement to Her every whim. Celestial in its bearing and intensity.
On the other side stood a man in a black clergyman's robe, a silver crucifix hanging from his chest. His hair was not long, mainly raven-black in color, though a faint hint of blond showed at the roots. His eyes were pure gold. His skin was rather white. His features resembled those of the people from the Northern Wastes of the Eastern Continent. A halo framed His head like a miniature sun. Behind Him stretched a shadow that resembled a curtain, with eyes peering out from within that shadow.
The two titans acknowledged each other across the clearing. Lilith's gaze lingered on Grisha's halo, Her discerning eye recognizing it for what it promised. She decided to test whether They could be considered future allies—or merely strangers with similar circumstances.
"They say you are the Creator of this world," Lilith prompted, Her eyes still on Grisha's halo. "Come to take back your powers and lead us all into a brighter future. I'll admit I had my doubts. But then you brought back the sun." She paused, letting the words settle. "I'm curious. What do you plan to do about my Sanguine? About all the different races and gods? About humanity?"
Grisha tilted His head, considering the goddess before Him stoically.
"I've been clear from the beginning. In order to set the world to rights, it is imperative for the gods and their followers to either join my Heavenly Host or perish." His voice was calm. Certain. "Humanity has taken on such broken, distorted forms—brought on by the corruption of those usurpers—that I have decided to step in and return this world to how it should be. Giants and elves, mutants and devils, your Sanguine and the fae. All will return to their true forms, once I reestablish the true order of this world."
Lilith thought about life in the Age of Carnage. The chaos of the First Epoch. She knew His words to be true—or at least, true enough. She thought about Her own corruption at the hands of the Mother Goddess of Depravity. The way Her form had twisted. The way Her mind fought every day to fight back the madness. She hoped His goals were sincere. That this god’s determination to do what was right could weather His future hardships without veering off course.
Even love could turn care into cruelty if one wasn't careful. Just look at Soniathrym coming between Cohinem and what was left of Her family.
"Forgive me," Lilith said, Her tone carefully measured, "but I remember that bearing and halo to be more reminiscent of the saints of my youth. I've seen more than enough paintings of the Cruxis Christi to recognize it."
She watched Him. Waited. She wanted to know what flavor of Catholic priest She was dealing with. Was He a god-fearing puritan? A hard-liner that demanded that scripture be followed? A manipulative demagogue?
More importantly, how would He respond? Would He stare at Her blankly, lost in the face of a reference to a latin phrase She just made up? Would He try to bluff His way through, offer some vague, meaningless answer to match Her vague, meaningless question? Would He question Her sanity? Ask Her to explain what a 'Cruxis Christi' even was?
Not even She knew what exactly She was looking for.
Thankfully, Grisha, even though He had no idea what She meant by the 'Cruxis Christi', could guess it had something to do with Christ's Cross.
"I don't recall The Crucifixion having any saints, in any painting." Grisha smiled faintly. "You'll have to be more specific, Lilith." He paused, letting the words hang. "But then again, I didn't go to church all that often in the Before. Maybe the thieves were canonized at some point, and I wasn't aware?"
The two gods smiled faintly at each other—a shared moment of recognition. One survivor to another.
Lilith was internally pleased to realize that this man was, thankfully, a chill priest. He hadn't bothered to call out her nonsense or correct her. He had simply played along, matching her lie with a lie of His own.
Then Lilith's expression sobered. "I wish to speak plainly with you."
"I'm listening." Grisha accepted easily.
She raised Her hand, and a shimmering ward fell over the clearing—a crimson veil of moonlight that would conceal Their conversation from any eavesdroppers. Grisha followed Her example, casting a carpet of shadows across the forest floor.
"To cover all our bases," the Ancient Sun God said, answering Lilith's questioning look.
Fair enough. There was still a long way to go before either of them could claim to completely trust one another.
Lilith steeled Herself. She had asked for this meeting for a reason. Better to state it plainly.
She had initially believed this new god to be some loud mouthed fool that got too impressed with His newfound power and started throwing His weight around foolishly. Transmigrator or not, time traveler or not, He wouldn't have survived the century carrying on as He was. Except He systematically took in all the minor gods or killed them off; He faced off against Farbauti and sealed Him away; and, according to some rumors, He spoke to the Fae King and then they both peacefully went on Their ways without issue. Considering some of the things Amanises had mentioned about the Fae King, that sounded quite promising.
"I know you were taking care of the minor gods and now you've sealed away Farbauti. That must mean you're setting your sights on Flegrea and Mingrui, yes?"
"More Flegrea than the Fae King." Grisha admitted freely. "Bit difficult to find, isn't He?"
"Yes, well..." Lilith paused. "An ally and I are willing to aid you with taking down Flegrea. I just need you to help me with something when you're done."
Grisha considered Her for a moment. His golden eyes seemed to pierce through Her, seeing something beneath the surface. "You've been corrupted."
Lilith stiffened. "How did you know? Don't tell me you're actually omniscient?"
"It's really a limited type of—" He stopped himself. "You know what, that's not important. Give me your wrist. Let's check you out."
"Bit early in our relationship to get handsy, don't you think?"
"You are hardly my type," Grisha seemed unconcerned. "Besides, my husband would be the first one to murder me if I dared."
Lilith narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. 'A married, gay priest? Is that even allowed?'
"I didn't realize that priests went around saying they were married to Christ. I thought only nuns did that."
"As the kids used to say, 'Carmilla, I don't think you're in a position to judge other people's marital status based purely on their cosplays,'" Grisha retorted.
'Who is Carmilla?' She found herself momentarily speechless, Her mind drawing blank at the reference.
Grisha mentally marveled at the absurdity of their situation. A vampire goddess who didn't know about 'Carmilla' and a Catholic cosplayer that didn't know what 'Cruxis Christi' was. Life certainly had its ironies.
He stepped back from His examination, His golden eyes thoughtful. "I need time to figure out how to manage your situation."
It wasn't entirely true. He already had the outline of a solution—a path through the corruption that could work, if the pieces aligned. But He needed to check a few things first. If He took out Ankewelt, if Omebella had similar pathways, it was possible to tie up quite a few loose ends. He just needed to do this properly.
They agreed to meet again within the week.
Before they lowered their wards and went their separate ways, however, Grisha had one more question.
"You know, when I sealed away Farbauti, he said a few odd things about the Fae King." His tone was carefully offhand. "Were they friends at some point?"
Lilith hesitated. She seemed to weigh her words, considering how to answer what had unintentionally become a loaded question.
"According to the phoenixes, Farbauti killed one of the Fae King's subsidiary gods." She paused. "But that's—" Another pause. She met His eyes. "You really should be careful when dealing with Mingrui. Farbauti hasn't moved around as freely ever since, and looks harried whenever He's out and about. Then there's what happened to Gregrace. It's just in everyone's best interest to be very careful in dealing with Him."
Grisha's expression didn't change. "What did He do to Gregrace?"
Lilith explained everything She knew.
When She finished, Grisha was silent for a long moment. Then He nodded slowly.
He needed to ask Mingrui for some much-needed explanations.
…after He visited the library, of course. Just to check that He wasn't making a mountain out of a molehill, you know.
---
Grisha held the history book He'd found in the Penglai library a little tighter. It contradicted Lilith's account on quite a few things—and honestly, it made what Mingrui had done sound like self-defense.
He steeled Himself to go speak with Mingrui. Even though He knew it was a simple question—one that would just clarify where Mingrui stood when it came to Gregrace—He was a little worried. Worried that He'd find out His kind, sweet Mingrui had twisted into something corrupt and evil. That He'd become like those other gods, just to survive in this violent era.
Standing up from His chair, Grisha took the book with Him and headed for Mingrui's kitchen. It would work as a conversation starter, if nothing else.
---
He found Mingrui in the kitchen, carefully dividing the contents of a frying pan into one of four dishes. His face was a mix of concentration and an unusual tension that eased the moment Grisha came through the door.
"My Most Beloved Ming, I have traversed the wilds between your realm's mythical library and your holy kitchen to find the answers I seek. Only you can put this lowly God's inquiries to rest." Grisha announced grandly as He entered, His shadow dragging out a stool for Him to sit across from His husband. He neatly placed the book on the table, cover facing Mingrui, so He could see the title if he wished.
"What do you want to know, Grisha?" Mingrui asked plainly, used to Grisha's histrionics by now.
"I was reading this passage about the founding of Penglai, but first—" Grisha paused, sniffing the air. "What are you cooking? It smells kind of like bruschetta in here."
Mingrui squinted down at the four plates thoughtfully. They sat on the table between them, each one holding servings of the same fruit prepared four different ways. Mingrui had been working on this project for years—ever since he had discovered the lingon plant growing wild in a secluded valley. It was a stubborn, bitter thing, but there was something about it that reminded him of home.
Mingrui squinted down at the plates thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Not sure, actually," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "We've been domesticating these plants called 'lingon' for a while now. I'm trying out a couple different recipes to see what other foods it complements best. It's a work in progress."
He picked up one of the plates, turning it in his hands, examining the fruit with a critical eye.
"The closest thing I can compare it to would probably be tomatoes? But it's not working out nearly as well as I thought it would."
Grisha leaned forward, his golden eyes bright with curiosity. The shadow behind Him—the curtain of eyes—stirred restlessly, as if even they were interested in the culinary experiment.
"Ooh, let me have a bite." Grisha grabbed the nearest plate enthusiastically.
Mingrui gestured at him to go ahead, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Grisha took a bite, and immediately regretted it.
The texture was wrong. Tomatoes weren't supposed to be as hard to chew as broccoli. The flavor was worse—slightly sweetened oily bamboo shoots. The bitter kind. The kind that made you question if you should have boiled it for much longer than you actually did.
Grisha chewed, swallowed, and tried very hard not to make a face.
"Have you tried using it to treat leather?" he asked in disgusted wonder, his voice strained.
"It's not that bad." Mingrui answered simply, completely unbothered by His husband's suffering.
"Also, we already have something far more effective for leather work."
Grisha stared at him, caught between horror and amusement. He had always known Mingrui loved food, but He had never imagined that he'd actually go through the work of domesticating his own fruits and vegetables if push came to shove. Sure, Grisha knew His Fairy had delegated most of the process to other people, but watching the lengths he would go for decent food was fascinating!
"Also, here." Mingrui placed a bowl of roasted nuts between them, the scent of salt and warmth rising from the bowl. "It'll help with the taste."
Grisha beamed up at His thoughtful husband, taking a handful of nuts. He waited until His mouth was empty—and the lingering bitterness of the lingon was at least partially masked—before speaking again.
"What are you currently aiming for in the domestication process?" He tried to be positive. Supportive. The kind of husband who encouraged His partner's hobbies.
Mingrui considered the question seriously.
"Softer pulp. Fresher taste." He paused, his eyes distant, as if remembering something from long ago. "If I remember correctly, bananas had issues in the beginning, too."
Grisha nodded slowly and decided to change the subject.
"Oh right, so I was reading this passage here—" Grisha showed him the paragraph:
'Fae King Mingrui was a water fae god, crowned by the Seven Lights of the Spirit World. One day, curiosity about the physical world overcame him. Taking advantage of a house fairy ritual, He joined a forest fairy party—and had so much fun that He decided to stay. But as a fairy god born to such a dazzling realm, He soon found this world gloomy and dull.
Marta of Northridge, cleverest of all fairies, saw opportunity where others could only see a bored god. She made a deal with the Fae King, and He set to work. He carved out a pocket in the darkness where fairies could live bright, happy lives—a place no other gods or their followers could ever reliably find. That is how He came to rule over Penglai, the true name of the Feywild.'
"—And I have so many questions. A water fairy god, a spirit king, and a human sacrifice?" He looked up at Mingrui with a teasing look. "My RuiRui certainly has both Marvel and DC beat for unique origin stories."
Mingrui side-eyed the book, and tried to brush it off. It was hardly something he had wanted in the first place.
"I don't know why you think it's a big deal. I just woke up like that, really. At first, I thought I was dreaming, and then I stepped through... something. According to Madam Marta, I was a corpse one moment and then molted into myself the next." He paused, stirring the pan absently. "Can you imagine, waking up to find yourself surrounded by savage-looking Muppets, running out into a fairy party, and then accidentally causing pandemonium when you realized you could do magic? Honestly, when things calmed down, I really had no choice but to follow Madam Marta's lead."
Grisha grinned cheekily at His husband. "Is this around the time the water fairies got a crush on you? What was it that got their attention? Your beautiful tentacles? Your shamelessness? Your cooking?"
"No, that came much later." Mingrui answered easily. "And all I did was try to creep them out. If you don't want them fawning after you too, you'll keep those five heads of yours to yourself."
"But I need those heads to give your tentacles the love and affection they so desperately need. What if they get lonely on the way to the market?" Grisha teased.
"Keep those heads of yours far away from the market." Mingrui groused, swatting Grisha's shoulder with a nearly see-through tentacle.
Grisha cheekily caught it and held it close, pressing a kiss to its translucent surface. Mingrui glowered at him—but noticeably didn't pull away.
Mingrui continued, "I once showed off my true eldritch body during a hearing, to make a point." He paused, letting the words hang. "Half the attendees turned into wailing, distorted entities that needed to be put out of their misery."
He let that sink in.
"I never did it again, of course. Yet even now, my followers believe that messing with my fairy crossroads will be met with a fate worse than death." Mingrui paused, then added dryly, "Ever since, I've been using psychology and illusions when I need to be more imposing. So, try not to drive my people into maddened Bloodborne monsters, okay?"
Grisha nodded thoughtfully, but His eyes remained fixed on Mingrui's face—searching His husband's features for some sign of how he truly felt about what he was telling Him. He hugged Mingrui's tentacle a little closer, but His husband seemed to pay it no mind.
Mingrui turned back to the counter, as if the subject was closed. He pulled out a basket of turnip-looking vegetables and retrieved something that resembled a beet and a lemon.
"Did you use these to make that borscht of yours, by the way?"
Grisha vaguely remembered mentioning to Mingrui that He had tried to make some months before They found each other again. It had turned out to be a slow-acting acid and had destroyed much of His camp’s kitchenware. Thankfully, not Mingrui's kitchenware—or there would have been no peace and no place to hide.
"Yes, I used beets and lemon juice for the sour cream. But you should know this already, A-Rui." Grisha confirmed, confused.
Mingrui looked at Grisha, took out a small cut of raw meat the size of a thumb on a plate, and squeezed the lemon's juice on top of it.
"That was your first mistake. Look at what just the juice can do to this piece of meat."
Mingrui motioned to the thumb-sized piece of meat. It was slowly changing color, as if the lemon juice had somehow cooked it through its own acidity. Then, slowly, the meat itself started turning into goo.
The plate slowly began to blacken and crack because of whatever acid was in that lemon's juice.
"The food of this era just isn't like anything we're used to," Mingrui complained to an awed Grisha, who was starting to revise His thoughts about the benefits of allying with Lilith. He certainly had to bring up crops in the future. Definitely.
Once His point was made, Mingrui 'stole' the remnants of the dissolving meat and plate, leaving the table spotless.
Grisha was going to ask a follow-up question—when He remembered what He was really trying to ask Mingrui.
"Speaking of food," Grisha began carefully, "I went to meet with Lilith. She apparently wants an alliance to take down Flegrea; even has a contact who can help us."
Mingrui listened carefully as He started on the next step of His culinary experiment—a turnip-sized, white, beet-like tuber. As He set it on the cutting board, He commented on Grisha's news.
"I think I know who it could be. If She wants to visit before your next meeting, I can introduce you." He paused, slicing into the tuber. "I invited Her to stay more than half a century ago, but She's been very cautious about accepting any kind of kindness from another god. Which is probably why She won't ask for my help with Flegrea, now that I think about it. Fairies are all about contracts with strings attached, after all."
He sounded a little put out—that his reputation had made things harder than they had to be, with getting this mysterious ‘Her’ to trust his sincerity.
"Good to know," Grisha said agreeably. "Either way, Lilith said that I had to be very careful with you because of what you did with Gregrace. Even Farbauti said something I didn't quite understand when I sealed Him away." He paused. "Mingrui, is there anything I should know?"
Mingrui's chopping was as fine and consistent as ever, even as He scowled down at His hands. "I did what I said I would. Viggo knows I didn't have to, after His little episode—where He killed Keegan and the rest. So, He can keep His opinions to Himself."
Grisha blinked. 'Keegan?' That was a name He didn't know. Another piece of Mingrui's life He had missed.
"As for Lilith," Mingrui continued, still a little irritated at the mention of Farbauti, "what exactly did She tell you about what happened?"
"Well..." Grisha tried to figure out how to word this. "She said You drove Gregrace mad, beat and harassed Her, and then stole Her secondary Godspark?"
Mingrui looked very put out after hearing this. "She's just mad I gave Gregrace a death ray."
"You what?" Grisha blinked, accidentally losing His grip on Mingrui's tentacle.