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November 11, 3064
“B. Zuka. As one of our most loyal, and powerful, soldiers, you have been chosen to fight alongside a new ally.” 8-Bit Sword stood in front of him, her wrinkles curled in a sneer. She was nearing fifty, and would retire after the war. For now, she was Zuka’s commander.
Zuka’s eyes perked up. He had been waiting for a new teammate, after Steampunk Wings got themselves killed. He felt a pang of sorrow thinking about it, and pretended he didn’t want to freeze up as their mutilated corpse flashed in his mind, the cogs that made up their gear ripped apart just as the tendons in their body.
Zuka was required to have a teammate due to the fact that he was unable to load and fire his gear on his own, the payload stored in the back and it being very delicate. He’s a little embarrassed of how many times he broke his own gear in his youth.
However, he wasn’t sure what his status had to do with this new ally. He had heard rumors in the barracks, that one of the Gods had decided to fight on their side. Something to do with a fight with Windforce?
He followed her deeper into the complex, passing locked door after locked door. He only knew what lay behind some of them. He entered into a beaten storage room, the setting sun casting long shadows.
“They requested to meet here. Not sure why, but I’m not in the space to complain.” So this new ally was higher-ranked then her? Nothing he had been told added up.
He felt something in the room shift as he walked to the center, standing next to a long shadow of a pile of boxes. There was a bit of echoed giggling, as a bright grin appeared in the dark, slowly shaping into a person. Seven feet tall, if you included the heels, with only one horn and a large witch’s hat.
They stepped out of the shadows, glowing lime green. Their bone-like wings flared out, and they took a bow.
“You’re setting us up to fight with a mortal? We thought we’d be on our own.”
“He’s the best we have.” The being stepped towards Zuka, hidden eyes pouring all over them.
“Uh,” Zuka stood a little straighter. “I’m B. Zuka.” He extended his hand for a handshake, ignoring the fact that this guy was an entire eight inches taller, maybe four without the heeled boots.
They tilted their head, and walked around Zuka in a circle, judging him and almost falling after getting their heel stuck in a crack
“Well then! We are Darkheart, god of chaos, magic, and luck! And also like seven other things but those aren’t important.” They met his handshake, a slight electric shock pulsing through him as their hands met. “I have a feeling we’ll be good friends from here on out…”
It had been a month since the two were assigned together, and Zuka had learned a lot about Darkheart. Apparently they were allergic to cinnamon, something about the dust getting in their lungs. They also liked fishing and magic, and would yap on end when prompted about these topics. He wasn’t expecting a god to be so skilled in magic, but then again, they were the god of it.
Zuka was cleaning his gear as Darkheart watched. He had allowed them to, despite how intimate it was. They had sharpened their blade in front of him before, but didn’t seem to feel anything of it.
He felt his tail swish back and forth on the couch he sat on, the rings rattling against each other. He was an orca, had the sharp teeth and hunting instinct. Somehow, deep inside, that label felt wrong.. He looked at Darkheart, wondering something. Everyone, even the gods, had some animalistic traits. Leftovers from an earlier stage in their evolution, apparently. However, Darkheart had nothing. No tail, no fangs, no specialized ears, no fur and no specific horn shape. Their wings were clearly a godly trait and not a bird Inphernal trait.
There was some odd stitching on their jacket, right where their ribs should end. It was a circular cutout, with a slightly different shade of fabric stitched there. Of course, vocalizing any of this would be rude, especially when talking to a god.
“To answer your question, we’re a spider. Specifically, Sydney funnel-web.” Zuka jumped at this being answered suddenly. “Yes, we’ve been reading your mind the whole time. For the no other special traits, it just got annoying. For the fangs, a story for another time.”
“Wait. What other special traits would you have?”
“Wanna see?” Their grin grew even wider, two tooth gaps where fangs should be suddenly appearing. They stood up, taking off their jacket. They wore nothing underneath it besides a necklace, an emerald pendant hanging down rather low. Scars in too fine of patterns to be unintentional dotted their torso, filled with symbols Zuka didn’t recognise. Another scar glowed green slightly, though this one looked more natural. Another of the same color matched it, right above their hip. “Got stabbed. Mortals can’t without a lot of effort, but its rather easy for a god to stab another god. Don’t worry we stabbed that bitch back. Ever wondered why Illumina is missing a wing? He wouldn’t be able to fly with it anyways.” They muttered the last part, full of anger towards the god of order.
Zuka continued to stare at the marks adorning Darkheart’s body, ignoring the incredibly hot muscles and the entire six pack and how their pecs popped out.
“I thought you were gonna show me something?”
“We will when you stop ogling at our chest.” Zuka jumped again, turning away from the god.
“I was NOT!” He huffed indignantly. He turned back to the god only to see them with an entire other pair of arms that were just as muscular as the first pair wait who said that.
“Its annoying to show these. They get in the way, tend to knock stuff over.” They grinned wider, still showing the two gaps where venom injecting fangs should be.
“As for the fangs…” They sat down next to Zuka, their grin falling a little bit. “Illumina ripped them out. Apparently we bit him and he almost died. We also had a bad habit of biting our lip, and Ghostwalker was getting tired of injecting us with our own antivenom. Actually, Venomshank might still have a few bottles of it lying around. He collects poisons, and took around twenty small bottles of the stuff back in the day.
“We’re gonna go check that out actually." Darkheart bounced up, their second pair of arms vanishing as they put their coat back on. “And we’ll ignore how we saw you undressing the rest of us with your eyes.” They did a motion that implied they winked, and left, ignoring Zuka’s protests.
October 30, 3068
Three Playground soldiers surrounded Zuka, about to corner him. They whispered between themselves in their own language, unintelligible to the soldier but with a mocking tone. They had knocked his gear to the side, knowing how overkill it is in demon on demon combat. It’s an anti-tank weapon for SFOTH’s sake. He wouldn’t even be able to fire it due to the cold anyways, that being told to him almost a thousand times in his training.
All he had was an army knife to defend himself, and the other three were all holding their gears. One came up behind him, talking in that flowery language to the others, forcing Zuka to his knees.
One grabbed out a knife, and traced his cheek with it. “How perfect, see you on your knees.” They used the wrong word for perfect, one reserved for objects. It was a mistake, but it made it hit more. They knew him, he was a legend! They wanted to be the ones to kill B. Zuka.
The snow soaked his pants as he was shoved around, cold stinging his horns and ears. He was Blackrockian by birth, but it will get anyone eventually. Deep inside, he remembers a time where these lands weren’t as cold, where you could see the sun in summer and plants grew even in winter. He was not alive back then.
The one on guard yelled something, the rest perking up as well. He was dropped onto the ground, missing his coat. Darkheart appeared over him, holding a glowing spellbook, looking pissed. It was rare to see the god frowning.
They yelled out something in the godly language towards the retreating Playgrounders, before helping Zuka up.
“Did they do anything to you?” There was none of the usual joy in their voice, the aura of what they called whimsy gone and replaced with a bitter energy and pure, unbridled, anger.
Zuka shook his head no. “Good. We’ll teleport you back to your home.”
He ignored the strange feeling of the magic as they arrived at Zuka’s apartment. Wait, how did they know where he lived?
July 25, 3068
Zuka and Darkheart sat on top of the roof of Zuka’s apartment building, looking at the stars through a rare clear night sky.
“Someday, when the war is over, I wanna get out of here. I’m almost thirty and haven’t seen anything outside of these mountains. I’ve never even seen a map of the world, let alone the world itself.”
“There’s so many beautiful places out there. We’ve seen so much of it. Our brother has a city in the desert in his name, rife with culture and way too much spicy food. Then again, it’s a city that worships Firebrand.”
“Is there anywhere that worships you?”
“Not really! We’re more of a minor god, actually. Fun fact, We’re actually the youngest of our siblings. We’re around 312, and the next oldest is about 940. Illumina’s the oldest at over 10,000. He’s existed almost as long as Inphernals have!”
Darkheart pulls out a map from who-knows-where, and unfurls it on the concrete.
“Lost Temple has the Ashfalls, from Banlands. Apparently our sister’s kid is promised that prison, and is training to run it. He’s only five though.” Their hand drifts more towards Lost Temple, pointing to a town beside a strangely-curved lake. “That’s where I’m from.” Darkheart suddenly drops their way of speaking.
“How- your gear isn’t from there?”
“I wasn’t always Darkheart.” They tilt their head. “Was around 19 when I Ascended. Can’t remember anything about that day besides pain. Maybe someday I’ll show you my cabin.” They then ignored this lore drop to keep yapping.
“Windforce’s city is amazing too, despite how much you hate Playground it’s not that bad. She lifted an entire city up to the sky, claiming it as her kingdom. Many ignore the place under it, but the neon lights at night as the city never sleeps. Crossroads-”
“Are we just going to not talk about that?!”
“Nope!” They spat out, popping the P.
“Will you ever elaborate on anything?” Zuka stood up, a little more than angered. “The last time you gave me a clear answer on something was when you explained the whole spider stuff, and that was almost a month ago”
Darkheart seemed to think for a moment, then sighed. “My mortal life is something I don’t like talking about, nor referring to myself separately. It’s a sensitive topic.” They tapped their clawed fingers against the ground. “Someday I’ll explain everything.”
“Can you at least answer a few questions? Not about this, then.”
“...fine. It’s only fair!” Their grin reappeared. “Just nothing about the whole ‘used to be a mortal’ stuff.”
Zuka thought for a moment about what to ask. “Is Playground as bad as everyone says it is or is that propaganda?”
“Depends on where you go. Splintered Skies is nice but everyone there worships the ground our sister walks on and belives every god is lesser to her. Craterdust has the exact opposite problem and apparently we’re the most common god to worship there. Have to use a mortal disguise to get around, but the people are nice and it’s really pretty at night. In the outskirts and the small towns they don’t really like outsiders. Cool plants though, parrot’s beak grows everywhere in the crater.”
The two’s plan was to look at the stars for like twenty minutes then have Zuka get some sleep, but they ended up talking about the world outside the walls of Blackrock until the sun came up.
September 8, 3068
Zuka had heard of magic, but it wasn’t common in Blackrock outside of the secret labs Zuka wasn’t allowed in. Darkheart was doing something in the forest right now, and he really wanted to follow them. They were the god of magic, and it was likely related to that.
He followed their footsteps into the snow, to see them doing something. Weird. Well, weird for Darkheart. They did weird shit all the time, but currently they were digging around in the snow.
He came up behind them. “What are you looking for?” Darkheart jumped, falling forward into the hole they dug.
“Looking for seeds! Blackrock used to be green, not white. In this forest a flower used to grow, a bright purple bud with petals the color of the night sky. We’re digging for its seeds, but it hasn’t grown since before Icedagger went into hibernation. I remember taking trips to the mountains in summer. There’s a lake in the dip just north of the capital, did you know that? It’s buried under over 20 feet of snow.” Zuka listened to the god yap, and he felt something odd about the story. It would be unimaginable to anyone of a Blackrock that didn’t snow in summer, but to him it didn’t feel strange at all.
Zuka knew that he couldn’t go back without the god, but also Darkheart wouldn’t leave without their seeds. He took a seat in front of the god, in the snow.
“Is it magical? You’re always talking about magic.”
“We are the god of it! And yeah, almost every part of it. The seeds are used for a potent healing salve, the pollen can heal sores, the roots are the material component in several spells, and-” Darkheart kept talking about the plant, all while looking through seeds buried in the permafrost.
He then pulled out something akin to a sunflower seed in size, but a periwinkle blue. “This! We’re not sure if it’s still alive, but we’ll find out!” They jump out of the hole in the ground, their grin impossibly wider than normal. “Okay, we’re going back now!”
The god was always an enigma to Zuka. He wondered if that would ever change.
February 1, 3070
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.” Normally, Zuka wouldn’t let Darkheart anywhere near his gear, but they had shown extreme apprehension for even the slightest thought of letting a mortal hold their sword. They refused to say why.
Inphernals did not have sex organs, but stimulation could still be experienced through gears. The item Darkheart held had ended the lives of over three dozen Inphernals, and now they ran their hand along the barrel, admiring the weapon.
“Now we can see why you’re so strong. How do you even handle carrying this for over nine hours?”
“It’s almost seven kilograms unloaded, you get used to it.” Zuka had been training to use the weapon since Spawn, and it was usually too heavy for their teammate to hold. Weaklings, he always thought, ignoring the back pain he has at twenty-one.
“So beautiful, yet deadly. Just like you.” Darkheart was always good with cheesy compliments. They traced the lines of cobalt blue paint covering the sides, and Zuka held in a moan as their hand reached the seam where it could be separated for easier transportation. The god was good at this.
Their hand traced the metal rim used to balance on Zuka’s shoulder, placing a kiss on the metal tip as they felt backwards to the trigger. It was the only part not entirely made of metal, instead bound with a a plastic cover. The cover wasn’t a part of the gear, but created so whoever’s in the back wouldn’t freeze their hand off using it.
“There’s always been something intimate about gears you can’t use alone. Things that are meant to be shared, bound to others by the nature of your soul. Even before our ascension we were always on our own.” Zuka was now a writhing mess on his bed, face flushed. Darkheart was really good at this.
Their hand moved again, to the back where the payload is inserted. The wire funnel used to straighten the missile was cold to the touch, marks from being dented then forced back into shape.
The barrel had the same dents, and was coated in a small layer of soot and ash. They planted another kiss to the handle, Zuka not holding back a quiet moan. He was close to orgasm, twitching and begging Darkheart to do something more. His claws were scratching holes in his sheets, biting his lip and drawing blood.
The god’s hand moved into the barrel, careful not to leave lasting scratches. Zuka felt the coil in his gut wind, then snap with an orgasm.
Darkheart placed the gear down and held his hand, letting Zuka come down slowly.
“Are, you okay?” The god seemed. Nervous?
“Yeah- just gimme a second…” He pushed himself up, a little dizzy. “I’m fine. SFOTH, you’re good at that.” They moved to the bathroom and began filling the tub.
“Would you believe us if we said we had never done this before?” Their grin didn’t expose if they were lying or not. “It’s true. Even before ascension, I was always a loner. It didn’t change after.”
They picked up Zuka and carried him off to the side room, still grinning.
March 8, 3070
The snow had turned to sleet as spring began, and Zuka felt incredibly scared. Darkheart was to be involved in negotiations for a peace treaty, and somehow that meant he would come with them as ambassador. Several other gods were there too. Firebrand, King of Crossroads, was there as a neutral party along with Ghostwalker.
“Ah. Darkheart and his mortal pet.” Windforce speaks up first, Queen of the Splintered Skies. She’s the tallest person in the room, leering over her siblings.
“He’s the Korblox Administration’s ambassador, dear sister.” Zuka does not know how to act. He is in a room with four gods, although one he is a little more familiar with. Both Firebrand and Windforce have their advisors, Umbrella and someone else he can’t place. At the goddess’s side is a kid Zuka assumes is her son, four eyes darting around the room curiously.
“...How curious.” Ghostwalker is the one to speak, writing down everything in a book with a comically large quill.
“Ghostie!” Darkheart vanished from Zuka’s side and re-appeared in the shadows beside their brother. “Why’d YOU show up and not one of your children?”
“The Watchers are not my children, and I had a feeling this would be important to attend myself.” The god of death ignores their sibling’s antics.
“Darkheart. Can we please begin? My child and their partner are planning to receive from the Spawn today, and I’d like to meet my grandchildren.” Firebrand feigns politeness as he encourages everyone to hurry up.
“Right. Well, since we can all agree I- Splintered Skies won, how about we get on negotiations for your surrender?” So that’s why Zuka’s here instead of one of the higher-ups. He does not want to stand up to Windforce on his own.
“Windforce. Dear sister. This is negotiation for peace. Nobody won, and we’re trying to end the war altogether.” At least the god of fire has sense.
“HOW DARE YOU-”
“Wouldn’t it be great if I suddenly leaked photos of you as a newspawn? I’m sure dear old Illumina still has some-”
“So, what are Blackrock’s demands?” Now Zuka sees why Firebrand is here in the first place.
Darkheart has moved back to sit beside him, seemingly very intrigued by this.
“The Korblox Administration requests compensation for all damages sustained in the war. We had casualties nearing the millions, and Splintered Skies bombers took out large portions of city infrastructure. The death toll of the war was likely higher, due to lack of shelter during Blackrock winters.” He reads from a paper, rehearsed and recited. He will never hear the end of it if he fucks up.
“...Splintered Skies also requests reimbursement for damages sustained, as well as the cause of the war.” Zuka was never actually told why Windforce declared war. “I am more aware of what happens in the lands under my rule, and the kidnapping of my citizens is unacceptable." She holds her son’s hand, who is glaring at him the same way his mother is. “Even more so, the abduction of my own son shall not go un-punished.”
Ghostwalker was there to clarify exactly what happened, a helpful bit of exposition to a very confused Zuka. “A month before the war started, Banhammer went missing. He was found near the Thieve’s Den-Blackrock border, along with twenty-four other missing persons. The capturers were wearing Blackrock uniforms, and those that didn’t had the symbol upon their uniforms. All died from cyanide poisoning while in captivity, self-inflicted, and as such no information was gathered.”
“I am not aware of this happening.” He admits. “I may represent Korblox, but I’m not included in most of their happenings.”
Windforce clearly wasn’t pleased with this, and Firebrand quickly intervened before she snapped again.
“You know what? Let’s end this for the day. I would really like to be there for the spawn of my grandchild, and we’re not getting anywhere.”
“You only care about your grandkid, not the deals.” Windforce scoffed.
“Yes, yes I do.” Firebrand admitted confidently. “This is the first time I’ll be meeting their partner, Overseer Mage Staff. I’m quite excited.”
June 16, 3071
Zuka stared up at the monument, recently opened to the public. Fifteen thousand, four hundred, and seventy-four names lined that wall, each one a soul lost in the war. This wasn’t even the only monument, dozens of others spread out around the capital. He knew so many of those, people he’d gossiped with over the shittiest lunch imaginable, people he’d shared crowded rooms together. His old partner, Steampunk Wings. Ambushed on a supply mission and killed. 8-Bit Sword, his commander. One of two hundred killed in an attack on a military base.
There was no room for mourning a lost soldier, back then. He turns his eyes to the several statues opposite of him. The largest one, the one in the center, is him. His gear is thrown over his shoulder, and he’s looking east towards where the sun rises. He remembered modeling for this three weeks ago. It took them surprisingly short time to carve it, and place it in the position.
Right now, the sun was setting. It illuminated his statue’s head like a radial, mimicking the way he was almost deified by the people. He was a war hero, a symbol of the nation. Posters in support of the war had his face on it, and he can’t name the number of speeches he’s done in favor of this conflict no matter how much he hated it. The horrors of war were not something that should be treated lightly.
As he stood, mourning the names, Darkheart appeared from the shadows.
“Why do mortals build monuments?” The god began leaning his elbow against Zuka’s shoulder. “It always confused us. Why remember the bad in the world?”
Zuka paused for a moment. He didn’t know himself.
“You’d have to ask the people who built it.” A small spider was already making its home in the monument, the little gap on the statue’s shoulder.
“We thought you’d answer that way.” It would get cleaned off soon, forced away to make a new home.
December 3, 3074
Blood. It hurt but Zuka couldn’t feel it. It all didn’t feel real, his arm severed from his body and thrown to the ground. A god stood above him. Illumina.
“Darkheart. I know you’re watching.” The god of chaos stepped out of the shadows, frowning. “Your little spat with Windforce has gone too far. You are above this vermin.” It’s hard to look at the god of order, glowing as bright as the sun.
Darkheart says nothing.
“And you. B. Zuka. Forget about this. Darkheart was never meant to be here, and they will not be returning.” He glares at them, and turns around. “We’re leaving.” He grabs them by the horn, and vanishes in a burst of light.
Zuka is left kneeling in the snow, bleeding out. He has to get to safety. The snow soaks into his pants, he doesn’t care though. He has to live. He ignores the blood trail he leaves behind, and looks to the sun. Setting in the west, and west is the nearest settlement. All of Blackrock’s towns have medical areas, but he’s not sure if they’ll be fully stocked.
He might not even make it, growing delirious from blood loss. Stumbling through the snow, he’ll die here. He collapses, unable to keep going.
…
“SHIT! I FOUND SOMEONE!” He doesn’t recognise the voice, but through his blurry vision he can make out a scout uniform, the padded jacket and snow goggles.
There’s three scouts, one with a futuristic crossbow, one with a pot for a helmet, and the third has his backpack covered in charms. “FRYING PAN, GET A MEDIC! CROSSBOW, CHECK FOR DOG TAGS OR OTHER ID!” He digs through his backpack, looking for seemingly medical supplies. The howling wind hides any voices at a normal volume, as such Zuka can’t quite hear what he’s saying.
“ID 887574, GEAR: BAZOOKA. IS HE CONSCIOUS?” There’s a hand against his face, another feeling for a pulse.
“THE WAR HERO? IRREGULAR HEARTBEAT, SEMI-CONSCIOUS.” There’s now a fourth person, and they’ve picked him up.
“TEMPORARY ENCAMPMENT 15 METERS NORTHEAST. WE’LL TAKE HIM THERE.” The voices faded off, as the blood loss got to him and he passed out.
March 23, 3084
It’s been almost ten years since the war. Crossroads is nice but too hot in summer, but Zuka stays. He’s not going back to Blackrock, not anymore. It took him a while to even get the papers to leave, regardless of his status.
You can’t see the stars in the city, but Zuka sits outside at night anyways.
There’s something in the air, a feeling he hasn’t felt for a very long time. Darkheart stands in the distance, watching him.
“If you want to say something, say it to my face.” The god vanishes, and re-appears next to Zuka. They’re missing a wing and a horn. “What happened to you?”
“Illumina called it payback for us doing the same to him. You wanna hear a funny story? Ghostie told me this one, it happened before we spawn-”
“Why are you back in my life?” Zuka interrupted. It was a fair question. Darkheart left and never came back, but they’re here now? On a random Tuesday night?
“...We got bored.” It was a simple answer, and one that made sense for the god. Zuka couldn’t count the amount of times on his hand that they had run off chasing some butterfly instead of doing the job with that being the excuse.
“...of course.” Zuka took another drag of his cigarette. He started shortly after he was put on honorary leave, given medals for his service.
“So! We heard you got a kid, huh? Couldn’t have expected that. It suits you, though.” Darkheart talks to him like nothing ever happened, like Illumina never cut off his arm and it wasn’t all the their fault. “Never thought that you would give up your gear’s function, especially with how dangerous this place is, second only to dear sister’s lands.”
“He’s adopted.” Darkheart doesn’t seem to believe it.
“Come on! We saw the kid once, he’s basically a mini version of you! … You’ve changed a lot since we last saw you.” No matter how much time has passed, Darkheart rarely ever differed. Sure, they were missing a wing and a horn, but that was it. Same hat, same button-up coat over nothing, same pants and same boots. A layer of mud caked them, as well as their pants, clearly very old.
"Thieve's Den, huh?” The god seemed surprised that Zuka could tell just based on the mud. The outer regions of the area, especially the south, had a ton of rainfall.
“It’s where we spawned, after all. Illumina, after he was done with us, threw us into the old cabin I lived in. We wanted to visit you after he forgot about all this, but time moves far differently when you truly have forever. A year to us could be thirty to you.”
Once Darkheart was done with this, the sound of Rocket crying made him jump. “Leave.”
“It wasn’t our fault!”
“I don’t want him to see you. Go.” Darkheart frowned, but vanished into the shadows anyways as Zuka entered inside to see Rocket bundled into a blanket, woken up by a nightmare of his days in Playground.
January 1, 3089
Darkheart had become a recurrence in Zuka’s life now, appearing only when the time was right. Only at night or during storms, and when Zuka was alone. Preferably when Rocket was hanging out with Sword. The other kid was a little strange, but he does need friends his age. The two seemed pretty close anyways.
Zuka sat down onto the couch, turning on a crappy reality show with so many seasons it’s been on since he was a newspawn, maybe even earlier. It was the channel his TV defaulted too, and he didn’t really care, just trying to finish off the raspberry-apple cider from the new year. Rocket insisted he get some and then hated it.
He felt that same, godly presence he was once used to, and Darkheart appeared in the doorway. The deity took a seat next to Zuka, grinning.
“What do you want?” he said with a sigh.
“We just came to say hi!” They seemed to be observing the show, wondering what exactly it was. “This is what you mortals watch nowadays?” they were severely judging it.
“What did you have three hundred years ago? Did you just read magic textbooks all day?” Darkheart went quiet, looking away. “...You have got to be kidding me.”
“Okay, but the Lexica Botania, fourth edition was interesting! Some of the annotations are funny, if you know the stuff they’re talking about.” The god protested, not helping their case. “We’re not a nerd.”
“I never said that.” Zuka turned back to the TV, actually invested in the show. Dance Potion was surely going to win it, but Nunchucks had been planning something to take her down and he kind of wanted to see what would happen.
It was winter, and it had started snowing. Not particularly a big thing for Zuka, but Rocket loved it. He knew that the kid was probably freaking out about it, first snow of the new year. Oh, that reminded him of something.
“Wasn’t your birthday yesterday?” He looked over at the god, who despite their dismissal of the show, was watching with rapt attention.
“What- yeah. We’re three hundred, fourty-three now. Not a big thing when you’ve done it three hundred times.” they were unenthusiastic about it, they never really have been about major events.
“We used to go hang out with Firebrand during it. He was the first one to accept us as a sibling, and there would always be a big party for it. Sometimes we’d sneak in while in our mortal disguise, other times we’d just bother him outright. Can’t have a party without the god of alcohol!” They paused their yapping, getting more morose. “We’re sure you know why we don’t do that anymore.” Zuka knew, once turning on the TV and seeing it being reported on live.
Quiet had settled in, and for once, it wasn’t awkward.
November 11, 3099
Rocket should be asleep by now, tuckered out from the spawnday celebration he threw for Zuka. The only person outside of the household that showed up was the Broker, who appeared at the very end to drop him a present. He still hasn’t opened it, knowing from last year. He’s still finding glitter in his couch cushions.
He knew Darkheart would show up soon. The god had a knack for appearing at the most random times, when nobody else was around.
Sure enough, they appeared, opening the door of the apartment and walking in. They held a small bottle of something, a bright gold liquid swirling in an unmarked wine bottle. It felt divine, like it would be sacrilegious to drink.
“HI Zukie!!” They had gone back to calling him that nickname recently, endearing when he was in his twenties. Now, not so much.
“What are you here for?”
“We wanted to say hi! It’s your spawnday, isn’t it?” They set the bottle down on the coffee table, the golden liquid inside almost glowing in the dim light. “We clearly missed the party, but we can still have a good time!”
Zuka stared at the drink, curious. “What is that?”
“The name’s a little strange, its never really been translated into any modern language. Never needed too. I think the closest word to call it would be ambrosia. Gods can’t get drunk on human liquors and spirits, but this does the trick.” This feels like a sin. “Don’t worry, its safe for mortals! We think.” Zuka didn’t hear the last bit, but didn’t like how it was whispered.
As the god pulled out two glasses, Zuka thought. “How strong is it?”
“For gods, not too strong.” They poured out a little bit, filling a shot glass for Zuka. “For mortals, stronger than Everclear. Way stronger.” It made sense, but also kind of scared him. Once, a soldier snuck a bottle of Everclear into the barracks, and a lot happened. Mostly punishments, but also a fire and someone’s pants ended up on the roof. Nobody in there had a great alcohol tolerance, and he was glad he barely drank any. Mostly so that he’d remember what actually happened so he could write the incident report in the morning.
Darkheart pushed the shot glass over, taking a swig from the rest of the bottle. “We are the god of alcohol, so our idea of a godly liquor tolerance is kind of skewed.”
Zuka took the glass in his hands, careful with it. The patterns on the glass looked hand-painted, and the object itself didn’t look factory-made. He’d worked in one of those factories up until being drafted shortly before the war, an assembly line installing a specific part into an electronic he couldn’t quite remember anymore. The conditions were awful, as that was before Korblox realized that ‘workers rights’ were probably important.
Despite knowing he shouldn’t, he has work tomorrow, he downed the glass, the sweet taste kicking in. It tasted like nothing he’d ever had before, with notes of pomegranate and passionfruit. The alcohol kicked in almost immediately, and he was hit with a sudden wave of dizziness.
Before long, he was curled into Darkheart’s chest, who had drunk down the whole bottle and was barely tipsy.
“Did I ever tell you I loved you back then? I realized it, while looking at the stars with you that night. As you talked about the world, I realized that this feeling was love. I wonder what I’d think, that that on the day I’d turn seventeen, I’d meet you.” Darkheart stayed silent as Zuka yammered on, wondering if Zuka knew that love was reciprocated. He didn’t know he was that young when they met.
They looked down to find the mortal asleep against them. He would have a nasty headache in the morning, with how drunk that got him.
They picked him up, rather light to their godly strength. They took him down the hall, to where they knew his bedroom was, and laid him on the bed. He had changed so much in only around fifteen years. His body wasn’t as toned, and he hadn’t shaved in a while. He let his body condition decay, but Darkheart didn’t mind the rolls or the wrinkles. To them, he looked just as beautiful as he did the day they met.
Forever was a big word, and they knew Zuka wouldn’t see all of it like they would. They hoped he would be around a little longer, no matter how selfish the want was.
April 3-4, 4003
“Get out.” It was almost midnight, and Darkheart had just showed up, seeing Zuka awake this late.
“Come on! We just wanted to hang out with you!” He was getting annoyed.
“Darkheart. Please.” He was so fucking done with them. “I have a raging headache right now, and I do not need you in my shit right now.” As Zuka stood up from his couch, he stumbled a bit, back cracking. A reminder to Darkheart, that he’s old. Death comes for all, except the gods. They recalled something that Ghostwalker told them, that the only thing certain in a mortal life is death and taxes.
Darkheart sighed, and left back to the Edge of the Inphinity. Maybe Firebrand had finally done something interesting, instead of wallow in self-hate for something that happened fifteen years ago.
Maybe Zuka wasn’t as mad at them now. Its been two days, and Zuka could never hold a grudge for long. He was never that kind of person.
Rocket was entering as they appeared. “Oh. Hey, Darkheart.” Rocket had seen enough of the god during his childhood to be inured to their presence. “I called dad this morning and he didn’t pick up no matter how much I tried. I came over when I had the time.” Darkheart pulled a grin.
“We’re sure he’s okay. He’s not that old!” They walked over to his bedroom, finding it locked. “He shouldn’t still be asleep, right? It’s 10 AM.” They picked the lock easily, Rocket ignoring the magic he used to be in awe of, for seeing if his dad is alright.
Zuka was still lying in bed, turned on his side. Rocket approached, placing a hand on his adoptive father’s shoulder.
“...He’s cold.” Pale, cold, and lifeless. Darkheart knew this day would come eventually. The world quieted as they thought, as Rocket dialed emergency services. They were immortal, he was mortal.
His last memory of them was an argument. Of the god being clingy, being too much. They had always been like that, always attached to Zuka even after they weren’t allowed to. By the will of Illumina, no god shall ever interact with a mortal again.
They vanished before anybody showed up. Back at the Edge of the Inpherno. A place they could be alone, that they could think. They stood on a floating object, a small cone near the edge. They could see the burning ball on a downward slope to self-annihilation that is Firebrand from here. Seriously, Darkheart has to kick him out soon.
The strange object shook as they sat down, one they can’t quite remember creating. This place is where they can let all of the Chaos within out, a castle at the edge of the universe.
They knew the day would come. They didn’t think it’d be so soon. He wasn’t in the best condition. Smoked daily, didn’t eat well either. The PTSD from the war probably didn’t help either.
They could see stars and planets from here, at the edge of the entire universe. The castle rotated around an unnamed gas giant, a swirling chaos of purple, red, and grey. They would have loved to take Zuka here. There were so many things Darkheart would have wanted to show him.
Ten years of being away, ten years of being gone. Ten years they didn’t have together, because they were a fucking coward.
April 8, 4003
It was pouring rain the day of Zuka’s funeral. There was a flash of thunder in the distance, and Broker counted ten seconds between the flash of lightning and the thunderclap. Two miles away isn’t bad, enough so that nobody’s umbrella would get struck by lightning.
It is a dreary day, matching the grim atmosphere. She knew most of the people here, either they were others of Zuka’s business partners or his family. The only one that fell into the last category was young Rocket, who called them after he was declared deceased. He knew everyone here. Well, there was someone xe didn’t know.
They wore a long robe associated with Thieve's Den magic users, specifically one of a self-trained mage. It was a dated wear too, almost three hundred years old.
The bouquet they placed on the gravestone was a mix of several flowers that seemed odd in a bouquet, especially for a funeral, and seemed disjointed. Dahlia, asphodel, hyacinth, and what looked to be the flowers of an orange tree. She wasn’t very well-versed in plants outside of Lost Temple.
The rain got heavier the moment they set it down, sighing. They were the only one that didn’t have an umbrella, but a wide-brimmed hat hid their face. They muttered something in a language the Broker didn’t recognise at all, but they seemed.. Remorseful?
Rocket appeared beside them, talking too quietly for xem to hear. Obviously, he’s curious. “...still going through his will. He left most of it to me, and a few things for, ugh, the Broker.” He shivers as he says her name. “I still haven’t seen if he left anything for you. Considering the history you have, there might not be anything.”
“That’s fine to us.” The unknown being sighed. They turned around, and ran directly into the Broker. Normally, xey would get mad about this, but there was just something about them. It felt like it would be dangerous to piss them off at all.
They didn’t even acknowledge the incident, just running off. Then it clicked. Speaking in the second person, the green and black, the outfit. That was Darkheart. Why was Zuka in cahoots with one of those false gods? A thing that ze would never know.