Beginning the Ritual (2/5)

About an hour later, Freyya arrives at Jenri's house – the Reaper of Accidental Deaths.

'Just ask for the scale, then leave…,' Freyya thinks as she walks up to the door.

Indeed, Freyya is here to pick up one of Drakavar's shed scales – an old artifact that she KNOWS Jenri has. It's not like he hasn't bragged about his greatest prize every chance he gets.

Just thinking about a powerful artifact like that lounging around, Freyya shudders in fear.

Besides the Elder Gods (like Yiirkavar and Mora), she and Haalfrin are the only people who REALLY understand how strong Drakavar is.

After all, all the previous times that Drakavar has manifested herself, she wasn't trying to destroy the world. She never once attacked anything with her full power.

Just the act alone of creating the dragons and slapping a few gods to death was enough for her to earn the title "Elshirothe".

Still, despite nobody understanding who or what Drakavar really is, any bits of her blood or scales are still treated like priceless artifacts.

'And I'm about to make Jenri give up his prized scale for me,' Freyya smiles. 'Since I'll be imitating Drakavar when I do it, I'll have to be as mean as possible when I do it.'

As she knocks on the door, she silently says a condolence prayer for Jenri.

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-The Far Future-

If any onlookers were to be looking in this forsaken, lonely valley, they'd see a tall, humanoid dragoness with black scales walking confidently down the hidden path.

Drakavar doesn't walk very far until she arrives at an unusually large boulder – the special hiding place where her dear "colleague" is staying.

'Where's the doorknob?' Drakavar wonders as she probes the rock with her claws. 'I swear it was around here.'

After several seconds… the dragon Goddess finds nothing – only blank stone.

She taps her foot impatiently on the ground..., and the next second, she directly plunges her hand into the rock…

Instead of burning molten rocks flying everywhere, there is the sound of wood splintering, and the illusion covering this place flickers out – revealing a quaint cottage built into the side of the cliff wall.

Drakavar looks at the cottage wall that she's just smashed in, then she looks to the side at the door, which is about 2 feet to her right. "Ah. I hit the wrong spot," she mutters.

"You did, all right!" hollers an angry voice from the inside. "Do you know how hard it is to make illusions that can fool a Kindred God's eyes?"

"No."

"…" The man's voice goes silent. "Well? You going to apologize?" he asks.

"No."

Without waiting for this annoying man to prattle on any further, Drakavar tears her hole in the wall open further, and she walks through. Her tall horns scrape across the ceiling haphazardly, gouging huge holes and sending bits of wood, dust, and debris tumbling to the ground.

"NOOOO!" screams the owner of the house. Unable to take it anymore, he steps out of his hiding place – a darker corner of the room, and he waves his hands angrily at her. "The door is right there! Why can't you use it!?"

Drakavar turns her head to the door… pauses a minute… then shrugs, "Eh. I already made the hole. Mind as well finish making it."

She turns her head back to the man in front of her, briefly taking in his appearance.

Despite being one of the few people in the universe with enough courage to yell at her to her face, the man's head doesn't even reach up to her shoulders.

His long hair is as black as Drakavar's. His voice is low and sinister, and his posture is impish - a little hunched over, slightly bent knees, and a little unnatural looking.

To add to that, he has a long, furry, black tail that is sticking out of his lower back and is propped in the air attentively.

Most strangely about him is that he has a blank, white mask covering his face. There is no hole for his mouth, and the mask appears to be flat enough for there to be no room for his nose.

Most masks are made to make you look like something else... yet this mask makes the wearer look like nothing in particular. It is utterly blank and featureless.

On top of that, the mask's eyeholes are dark enough for a void to fit inside. The darkness is so empty and complete there that one almost feels like he can stick his fingers inside the mask and find nothing there.

Flickering somewhere behind the eyes is a pair of silver eyes that look more like two displaced stars in the night sky, rather than simple irises. Due to the black emptiness in the eye sockets, it looks like his irises aren't attached to anything – that they're 2 lanterns bobbing and flickering on a dark night.

His hair is a little strangely done, too. Most of the hair is shoulder length, though there is a single, thin braid of hair that's been allowed to grow so long that it's nearly touching the floor.

Most importantly, he has a pair of 2 long, pointed ears stretched out past his shoulders. He is Asharrothe – the Black God of the Arkin, also known as "the Archdemon of Corruption."

"Drakavar… Can you go away…? Please?" Asharrothe mumbles while staring hard at the floor. "Why'd you come, anyway? I thought we weren't on talking terms."

"Asharrothe… I know you have a close connection to the Void. You also have some mementos from the World Tree, as well as a clip of Yiirkavar's fingernail."

'I'll certainly need a piece of Yiirkavar to pass through Nowhere,' Drakavar thinks. 'I'll also need a piece of the World Tree as well, in order to find my way back.'

"Why?" Asharrothe asks. "I had a hard time getting these things. You think I'll just give them up so easily? I mean, I know that little Yiirkin boy comes traipsing around here with a new companion every time, but it's still really hard to catch him."

Indeed, Freyya isn't the first person that Yiirkavar has brought to Drakavar's timeline, nor was she the last.

During one of his trips, Yiirkavar ended up losing a piece of himself to the resident demon called "Asharrothe".

Drakavar growls, "Shut up. I just want to escape this stupid little world." She then looks down at the demon, "I know we're both technically colleagues, so just give it up."

Asharrothe leans in and bats his eyelids. "Say please?"

"No."

The Demon of Corruption turns his head away and crosses his arms. "I'm afraid I forgot where I placed them- BLEH!"

He's suddenly gripped by the neck and shoved backward. He doesn't even have time to escape Drakavar's grasp before she shoves him into his bathroom.

The dragoness looks around for a second, then glances down at a little hatch in the ground. She flips it open with her tail, and the stench of poop wafts up unpleasantly.

"No… NO! DRAKAVAR!"

The demon's cries fall on deaf ears. Without mercy, he's flipped upside down and plunged face-first into his own feces.

He's pulled up after a few seconds, and as soon as his mouth comes up, Drakavar hears him shouting, "Fine FINE! Here! I'll give it to you!"

"I'm afraid you can't get up and give me anything yet," Drakavar says dismissively. 'You said it's rude to take things without saying please..., and I haven't said please yet."

Genuinely smiling this time, Drakavar whispers under her breath, "This is fun."

She plunges Asharrothe deep into the pit again.

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-The Present-

The sound of pounding echoes in the dark cave. There appears to be a door built into the side of a cave, and Freyya is knocking on it right now.

Funnily enough, there's an illusion on the door that makes it appear to be part of the cave wall. Freyya knows exactly where it was to begin with, so she didn't have to poke around and look for it.

Several seconds pass, and Freyya frowns. 'There's no way he's not home,' she thinks. 'With HIS occupation – I mean, with OUR occupation, there's no way he'd be traipsing about outside.'

'That's it. He probably just doesn't want any visitors.'

Freyya's heart starts pounding, and her skin starts to itch uncomfortably. 'I know I'm about to do something very rude to Jenri… but it's for the Mantling! I have to do it!"

When she realizes that Jenri isn't going to open the door for her, she lifts her foot up and kicks the door down.

By the time the dust settles, she's already strolling inside. "KNOCK KNOCK?!" she shouts into the dark house. "Jenri? You home?!"

She looks to the side and sees a hunch-backed man sitting on a couch to the left side of the room. On his lap is a bowl full of cookies and brownies, and at his side is a bottle of juice. In front of him is a mirror flickering with strange images that Freyya doesn't care about.

… And Jenri himself? Yeah, his head is turned to her, his body is frozen stiff, and his mouth is hanging open.

"Freyya…?" he says after a long pause, "What're you doing here? Did you have to break the door down?

Freyya nearly apologizes, but she barely stops herself. After all, Drakavar never apologizes for anything! Yes, Drakavar always gets straight to the point.

"I know you have one of Drakavar's shed scales in your bedroom. You bragged about it once. I need it for… a Mantling Ritual," she says slowly.

Honestly, Freyya considered hiding her true purpose from him, but Drakavar generally prefers to tell the truth. What's the point in lying when you can beat up everyone who finds an issue with your words?

Freyya pauses and tries her best to put on her most unsympathetic face, "I know we're both technically colleagues, but just give it up?"

"Um… Yeah. No," Jenri grumbles as he relaxes back in his couch. "I was considering lending it to you, but you're being really rude right now. Go away."

"No, Jenri," Freyya shakes her head. "You're supposed to ask me to say please. That's how the script goes."

"Why?" Jenri asks with growing concern in his voice.

"Just do it!"

He sighs, "Freyya! You're being rude. At least say please when you're asking for my things."

Freyya then looks down, bites her lip, and whispers, "I'm sorry… but I have to do this."

"Wha-?"