“Seems you have moved up in the world.”
Retvik eyed the being he was standing next to. The handful of Decaylings under the command of the Thantir Decay Lords had to stay together, for safety reasons that none of the Decay Lords would explain. Something about keeping an eye on them. A large, avian-like being had told them to hold tight in this multi-roomed bunker, designed to hold 20 individuals, with five rooms connected to each wall and a central hub in the middle. Weirdly, there were only seven beings present, Retvik included.
What surprised Retvik more though was that one of the other Decaylings was… another Rethavok. A member of the same mortal race Retvik had originally belonged to, who had been sitting on a bench, minding his own business until Retvik arrived through the main door. Worse, Retvik knew this being.
“I thought I helped kill you, Litvir.”
The black, shadowy Rethan simply rolled his eyes. Somehow, his appearance was even more blood-sucky than the last time Retvik had seen him. His fangs were now stupidly long, jutting out from underneath his thin, darkened lips.
“It turns out that the Void Lord has a cruel sense of humour. My treacherous sibling’s plan failed to kill me. I just found myself trapped in the same simulations I used to keep my specimens in. Lord Kenon found me and somehow downloaded me into a body, before we all got whisked away to fight…” Litvir trailed off mid-explanation, a cold look glossing over his face.
“The Voidborn.”
“Lord Kenon’s kin…” Litvir sighed, shifting over to make room for Retvik. Just like Retvik, Litvir seemed to have an abnormally long tail, and his claws seemed a little too long as well. “I will be honest with you, I may hate your guts, but I am very, very happy to see a being I recognize. There was a small, yellow being I think I may have recognized as well when I first arrived here, but I knew that one was trouble. My question is, where have you been this entire time?”
Retvik grunted, eventually sitting down. He normally wouldn’t have even given Litvir the time of day, but Litvir clearly wasn’t coping as well with godhood as Retvik was. And if Litvir caused him any grief… Well, they both knew that wouldn’t happen. The shimmering golden flames that trickled down Retvik’s body proved that.
“Special ops,” Retvik coyly replied. “Secret work. The work of Decay Lords.”
“So why are you in here with us godly juveniles?” Litvir sneered.
“Some things are… too dangerous, even for me…” Retvik tried to maintain that brief moment of coolness that Litvir had clearly ruined. “It is to do with… non-euclidean geometry and working in five dimensions.”
“Huh…” Litvir trailed off. “Dare I ask how bad the situation is?”
“It is bad. Quite, quite bad.”
“Ah…” Again, Litvir trailed off. Retvik watched the dark, vampiric Rethan as they fidgeted nervously. As Retvik watched more closely, he realised that Litvir had claw marks underneath his armour. Litvir quickly noticed what Retvik was looking at, and covered himself in a black, starry shawl.
“Are you well, Litvir?”
“You would ask an enemy such a question?”
Retvik smiled, just a little. “I would. To mock you would be to kick you when you are down, and I am better than that. But I also see that you are struggling, and to offer help in your time of need is a far more powerful statement. So tell me, what is troubling you?”
Litvir’s shoulders dropped. Shame and embarrassment welled up in his voice. “You mean what you say?”
“I do. I will listen.”
With a sigh, Litvir glanced around the room, then sighed once more. “I will spill my guts to you, but not now. Now is not the time nor place for this…”