Back? # **Chapter Seventeen: My Only Wish (This Year)** *OLYMPUS Headquarters, 2:00 PM* Eira returned to OLYMPUS headquarters, collapsing onto the couch. After all, his deal had given him a few hours to kill, and the heroes wouldn’t know he hadn’t spent all his time conniving against them. He felt his eyelids droop, ready to drift into his second nap. He prided himself on his restraint: back home, he’d already be on his third — if he even bothered to wake at all. The underworld was immeasurably dull, especially after being trapped there for centuries. “EIRA!” An angry voice tore through the demon’s peaceful rest. A voice he recognized. “Y-your Majesty!” He stammered, jolting to his feet. Across the room, the Goddess of Death glared daggers at him through the vanity mirror, wild curls as red as her cheeks. Her mismatched eyes shot daggers through him: the left a roiling ocean, the right a withering void. Her rose-red lips curled into a scowl, revealing pristine, pearly-white teeth and canines filed to a deadly point. “What the hell are you doing?! I sent you up there to kill the heroes and ruin the Feast, not to waste time playing with them!” She gestured wildly with her hands, and Eira stepped back as if her nails could pierce him through the glass. The demon’s heart dropped as the weight of what he had done sank in. Instead of simply killing the meddlesome heroes right then and there, he had orchestrated a deal with them, essentially locking him out of his mission until the terms expired. He let his flair for the dramatic distract himself from the task at hand, potentially handing his enemies their victory on a silver platter. “I…Your Majesty, with all due respect, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, his voice wavering. Seraphina rolled her eyes, but her hair changed from angry red to icy blue, a sign that her anger was beginning to temper. “I think we both know that you do — your little visit with Yarru made sure of that. But, if you need a little reminder, your visit to the upper world won’t last forever.” Her face briefly disappeared from the glass, replaced with an image of the summoning circle in the Dentons’ basement. Its glow had waned further, sitting just over the halfway point. “Parting the veil enough to get you into the mortal world wasn’t easy, you know. The moment this circle fades, so do you. Best not to waste any more of your strength goofing off. Got it?” She sounded less like an arrogant queen than a put-upon kindergarten teacher, which somehow made Eira feel worse. He bowed in shame, silently cursing the God of Chaos for sticking his meddlesome nose where it didn’t belong. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand. But I can assure you that my victory is already well underway. There’s no way the heroes will be able to fix everything in time, and my storm is generating more than enough despair to sustain me until after the deadline. I’ll crash the concert, finish the job, and return triumphantly to Obcasis!” “Mm.” The queen's reaction was damningly neutral instead of the impressed praise he had expected. “...Your Majesty?” “I honestly expected better of you, Eira. What happens if your storm stops giving you enough despair to feed on? Remember the Great Blizzard? The first Feast? The moment the mortals stop fearing you—“ “They WON’T stop fearing me,” Eira snarled. “Not before I win. Even with the concessions I’ve given them, what will these heroes do? They’re not gods, they’re not Paladins--” “They’re something WORSE. The gods and the Paladins know they can win. Mortals don’t, which makes them fight even harder to ensure they do. I need you to do everything in your power to make sure that those stupid mortals die!” Seraphina’s voice grew to an angry, whiny shout, her hair flaming as red as a rose. “I need you to do this one thing right — just one! Is that so hard?! It almost seems like you want to fail! Is that it — do you want to be nothing but a failure for the rest of your miserable immortal life?!” Eira instantly dropped into a bow, his face lowered to hide the tears welling in his eyes. “...No. No, I don’t. I won’t fail you, Your Majesty.” The Goddess of Death glared down at him. “You’d better not. If you mess this up, Eira, — you think you’re treated cruelly now? You haven’t seen anything yet.” With a flourish of rose petals, the goddess’ image vanished, her threat hanging heavy in the air. Eira drew a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and steeling his nerves. He’d prove to his queen and her court once and for all that not only did he deserve respect, he demanded it. He’d prove it. He couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if he didn’t.