‘I do miss the Mortals’ yagnas, you know…a sublime thing it was.’ Muchuk thought he saw Thorin lick his lips. ‘But hard decisions had to be taken for peace.’

‘What does Faraladar say? The road to paradise is paved with pain.’

Thorin squeezed Muchuk Und’s shoulder. ‘Faraladar is the wisest among us, even if a little too melancholic for my taste. I wish we Daevas were half as enthused about life as you Mortals. It’s a good thing you came to aid us, Muchuk Und. We had the numbers and the weapons but not the will to kill. So, tell me son, what will you do with your newfound knowledge once you get back home?’

‘Do some conquering for ourselves, Your Worship,’ Asha came forward, wine cup in hand. ‘And you give us too much credit,’ she continued. ‘The Daevas were instrumental in the war effort in their own way.’ She winked at Savitre Lios.

‘Modesty does not suit you Mortals,’ stated Thorin, apparently missing the exchange. ‘Yes, our armies played a part, but it was your leadership and barbarity that brought this War to a conclusion. Your cruelty, your savagery, your love of butchery—’

‘Oh stop, Your Worship, you will make me blush,’ Asha laughed.

Thorin withdrew his arm from Muchuk’s shoulders and walked ahead before turning to face them both. ‘I can imagine the triumphant welcome that awaits you when you return. You shall ride the streets of Aea, and the Mortals will shower you with flowers to honour your victories here. You will be revered as Gods, the way we used to be. Your sons and daughters, your lovers and peers, your subjects, will all be there, waiting in jubilation.’

Muchuk wasn’t really sure what awaited him back home. Ten years was perhaps not so long a period, but one never knew. But he made no demur. ‘It is certainly something to look forward to, Your Worship.’

‘Believe me, they would have… were they not all dead a century past.’ And just like that Thorin’s assuring smile fled like a gust of wind.

Metal glinted. Muchuk brought his hand up instinctively. A gurgle escaped his mouth as a wire twisted around his neck, lacerating it on either side. His thumb was the only thing between the wire and his wind pipe as the wire began to choke him from the sides.

‘Muchuk…’ Asha tossed the cup away and started towards him, her hand on her weapon belt, mouth half open. There was another shimmer of metal as Ushas’ spear pierced Asha’s skull from behind.

Muchuk tried to scream in fury as his sister, his general, his companion, crumbled to the ground, dead. But all he could manage was a squeal as he felt a pair of soft hands brush against the nape of his neck. Raith. Her nails dug into his back as she choked him remorselessly. He could not believe that all that remained between life and death was his measly thumb. Blood trickled from his neck in vertical lines, where the wire had cut into the sides of his neck. His face burned as he grasped for every breath. For a race that had become jaded and lethargic, Raith was certainly zestful about killing him.