Asha, surprised into silence, stared at him. Muchuk stared back from beneath the rim of his helm, cold sweat prickling awake beneath his armour.

‘Well, when you put it like that...’ she scratched a scar on her face. ‘Alright Brother, I’m with you. The Danavas are dead. Thorin can continue holding the crown of this blasted world, and we can melt away to rule ours.’

‘That’s it?’ Muchuk was surprised at the ease with which he had convinced her. He had been preparing a whole speech. ‘You do not desire to stay?’

‘I do, but someone needs to teach you how to squat on a throne. And I can see you have made up your mind.’ She patted him on the back, then stopped short, looking around. ‘Another garden, seriously?’

They had entered a second garden, this one being special in its own way. The beacon, a prehistoric column of light said to come from a time before the Daevas, stood tall in the centre, the light stretching up like a pillar into the sky. The immensity of Thorin Drazeus’ sanctum towered around the column on three sides, in the embrace of a scorpion. Statues dotted the cobbled path to the Sanctum. These were stony tributes to Daeva narcissism – a Daeva gifting knowledge to a Man; a Daeva giving alms to a Naga; a Daeva shielding a Danava from danger. At the end of the pathway stood a half-finished Daeva statue, chiselled only at the legs.

‘I bet that’ll be a Daeva massaging a unicorn’s arse.’

‘If it isn’t the most cherished maggots of Aea!’ Savitre Lios, the youngest of Thorin Drazeus’ brothers, rushed towards Asha. Like the other Daevas, he was tall, with silvery skin and haunting golden eyes. Patterns were tattooed on his lean arms, which blazed with yellow light. Savitre Lios was probably the last Daeva to harbour any interest in anything materialistic. Unfortunately, the ‘materialistic’ here happened to be his sister.

Asha grinned as she gripped Savitre Lios’ waist and leapt up, shinnying up his tall frame to kiss him full on the lips. After what felt like a lifetime, Muchuk coughed. Savitre ceased groping his sister and turned to look at him, while Asha continued sucking on his neck.

‘Why her?’ Muchuk asked with distaste. He knew the picture of this beautiful monster pecking his monstrous sister was going to visit him routinely as a nightmare.

‘I am addicted to her dirty mind and pure heart.’

‘Right at least on one count,’ Muchuk snorted. ‘Thorin here yet?’

‘Yes. Faraladar is here as well. The Twins, too.’

Faraladar was the one who had signed Muchuk Und and Asha Und to this adventure in a deal forged in a Vachan. It bound them to the Daevas, to fight the rebellious Danavas. In return, Muchuk was taught the Way of the Elementals or as Faraladar called it the art of the N’yen Valren.

It was a good deal.

For the Daevas had lost their will, their viciousness, their cruelty – all important ingredients to winning any war. They needed Muchuk, a warlord of repute back in his own world, to do their dirty work for them. And Muchuk needed their arcane knowledge to awaken the Elementals back home, to lay the foundation of his own earthly empire.