26.11

Zyrdicia and Draven emerged from the magical gate on an empty street in Lyr, near the nightclub where they had been earlier in the evening. Andireon did not follow. She suspected he had stayed behind to deal with the Howlers.

Dawn was breaking in Lyr. It was the quiet hour when the night's denizens had mostly already vanished, and the day's had not yet emerged.

Draven stared at her quietly.

Zyrdicia teased, "Not what you were expecting in taking me to that place?"

"No," he said, smiling wryly. "But I'm so not ready for the night to be over."

"It's always night somewhere."

"Nevehna's time is four hours earlier than Lyr's. The night is still young there."

"And what's in Nevehna that would entertain me?"

He took Zyrdicia's hand suddenly and said, "I know exactly where we should go." Without waiting for an answer, he opened a gate to Nevehna. Still holding Zyrdicia's hand, he led her through.

The emerged from the gate outside a large concert venue. The street was packed with bodies and barricades. On the magically illuminated marquis, the words "Sephiroth Three" glittered in the darkness.

"Sephiroth Three?!" Zyrdicia sneered, jerking her had away from Draven. She hated this band so much they weren't even allowed to perform in Lyr. She had thought they didn't exist anymore.

The band had made a name for itself by pretending to be Sephiroth on stage. They wore fake wings and soared through the performance hall with magic. The band's lead singer had even started a false rumor that he and Zyrdicia were dating. So she had killed him - and banned the group's music from Lyr. Everyone in Lyr knew that she would kill anyone mentioning the band to her. The band had thus vanished from the Lyrian press, and no one in her inner circle ever brought them up.

"What you're thinking of was years ago - they were called Sephiroth Five then. They went through a total change in line-up a few years ago. Only one person was in the old band, and he publicly repented for what he called a 'blasphemous' phase. They're totally different from what you remember. You realize they are the biggest band in the world right now?"

"Not in Lyr."

"Especially in Lyr. The fact that they are banned only makes them bigger. Every club in the city plays their music and packs the dancefloor, unless you are there. Everything about the band is different than you remember. Just come inside. We'll go in unseen. Five minutes. If you still hate them after five minutes, you can kill them on stage."

26.11.1

Inside, the first chords of the concert sounded from a darkened stage. The crowd screamed jubilantly. Zyrdicia rolled her eyes, glaring at the stage.

On stage, a slightly emaciated, pretty young man clad in very tight leather pants was on his knees, facing a gigantic, illuminated portrait of Zyrdicia. His eyes and lips were heavily painted with black kohl. His long black hair was streaked with vivid purple.

He sang a ballad about devotion. The whole audience swayed slowly back and forth, hands reached out toward the portrait of her, singing along.

This time, the musicians on stage were not dressed as fake Sephiroth. They were all dressed simply in leather - some adorned with chains. The singer crooned the chorus with exaggerated, heart-felt passion, and thousands of voices in the room joined him:

"Violet light in our darkness

Your beauty shines upon us

Devoted eternally

We are yours entirely."

She cocked her head to the side, taking it in. This was as much a worship ritual as an entertainment event. And the song was catchy as Hell. She turned to Draven and stared at him, confused.

Draven explained, "All their songs are about you in one way or another. Sometimes they mix in stuff about others in your orbit - but it's always about you. And it's pretty flattering stuff." He asked slyly, "So does it completely suck?"

She did not answer. Seeing her fascinated reaction, he waved his hand and created a magical catwalk over the heads of throng between themselves and the stage so that she could approach and get a better view. No one in the audience noticed it. She walked up it and across the room, and she silently stared at the faces of the young people in attendance. Their minds were awash in adoration of her - as a god. This had happened without any manipulation or even encouragement from her - it was natural, and authentic.

The music shifted from the slow crooning ballad suddenly to a pounding, raucous beat. The singer stood up and called out, "This is new. It's a dance song, called 'Unworthy.' Let me see you dancing!" He began moving around the stage in an angry prowl.

The crowd screamed in anticipation and then began bouncing to the first sounds of an infectious beat.

On the screen where Zyrdicia's giant portrait had been, her picture dissolved into an abstract mosaic. Then an image of Dirk coalesced within the mosaic - a picture from the Lyrian Liar, taken the night he had gone to the club in Geshna and taken Zyrdicia back to Castle Blackpool drugged on pixie dust. That picture dissolved into another picture of Zyrdicia, and then an image of the Liar's headline blaring in gigantic letters the word "DIVORCE!"

The singer launched into an angry, melodic tirade about Zyrdicia's perfection having been wasted on Dirk. The song was clever and wicked in its insults of Dirk. In the chorus, the singer chanted:

"Deserving of eternal woe

May devils take your land of snow

Unworthy - we hate you!

Unworthy - we curse you!"

After the second round of it, he beckoned to the audience with one hand for them to join him. They obeyed by chanting the chorus with him.

Zyrdicia laughed so hard she nearly doubled over.

The beat continued to pound then shifted slightly. The shift caused a stir in the room. In the thoughts swirling around her, she sensed profound anticipation. Whatever song was coming was something everyone in the room adored. The music grew soft and melodic for a few bars, and the room seemed to inhale all at once. Fifteen seconds later, the crowd's energy exploded at the same instant that the song's music did. The song had a fast tempo. In fact, it was structured like the songs she and Magnus had danced to for years, but there was something about it that was surprisingly exuberant and dark.

Next to her, Draven offered her his hand. He whispered playfully, "You can't be the only person here not dancing to this."

Zyrdicia grinned happily. She loved to dance. And Draven was an excellent partner. She danced with Draven on the invisible catwalk for most of the next hour. She was surprised how much she enjoyed dancing with him. The only person she normally liked to dance with was Magnus. But Draven amused her in a different way. Draven occasionally danced in three dimensions, using magic - gravity was no hindrance to him. He was also able to alter his matter momentarily to pass directly through her. His effortless use of such magic for no purpose other than entertainment made her laugh.

By the time the second encore was drawing to a close, she said, "I think I want them to see me here."

"Their reaction is likely to be intense. Are you sure?"

"Let them see."

It was a moment before the room reacted, but eventually every head in the room turned to watch her dance. The band didn't dare interrupt the song, though. But when it was over, they fell to their knees on stage.

"Oh, that's boring," she muttered, disappointed the music ended. She disengaged herself from Draven's grasp, and called Andireon silently. "Andi, are you here?"

"Where else would I be?"

She teased, "Following the smell of my blood?"

"What do you want from me now?"

"Let's create a spectacle together."

"Shall we slay them all?"

"That depends on them, doesn't it?"

Andireon appeared instantly, nearly ten feet tall, hovering in the air near her, his great black wings spread out and flapping slowly. A twitter of terror raced through the room.

Somewhere in the back of the room, someone yelled, "A sacrifice! We owe them a sacrifice!"

From deep in the crowd, an unconscious young woman was foisted over the crowd's shoulders, then passed hand-over-hand over the top of the sea of humanity toward the stage. He was rolled onto the stage. Without any prompting, a heavy, deep drum began to pound slowly, rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. A very large knife appeared in the hand of the band's singer. Directing himself to both Zyrdicia and Andireon, he said, "We offer this blood and soul to honor you. May her death please you."

The knife passed across the unconscious boy's throat, and crimson fluid spilled out of him. The smell, combined with the mixture of terror and euphoria in the room, ignited Zyrdicia's blood hunger. Andireon sensed it, and smiled mysteriously. He took her hand. Together they drifted across the room to the sacrifice.

The musicians on the stage slunk into the shadows and prostrated themselves on the floor. Zyrdicia gestured for Andireon to take the sacrifice. She was holding the reins of the blood hunger, for now. And it wasn't really this human's blood she wanted. She impressed her hunger mentally upon Andireon.

After Andireon gorged and devoured the mortal's soul, the dark angel turned to her and stared, his face inscrutable. He drew a long black finger nail across his wrist, creating a superficial, very faint wound. He offered his wrist to Zyrdicia, and she pressed it to her lips. Only a few drops of magic flowed from it. She complained silently, "You're teasing me, and it pisses me off."

"You've had all the magic your mortal frame can take this night."

"No, I haven't!"

"You just gorged on your brother's soul. No more." She considered forcing the wound to open wider so that she could have her fill. No sooner had she formulated the thought, than she lost all ability to move any muscles below her neck. She was frozen in place by the Sephiroth's will. Too late, she remembered that he could catch glimpses of her mind when she tasted his blood. She cursed inwardly-broadcasting all the angry, frustrated emotion she could muster. She recognized amusement glittering in the Sephiroth's black eyes, and it angered her further.

All around them, the crowd gasped in respectful wonder, oblivious to the little power struggle going on between Andireon and Zyrdicia. The public act of a Sephiroth allowing her any of his own blood was of monumental significance to the people in attendance. Some of them openly cried out of joy. For them, they were witnessing the cosmic order righting itself - Zyrdicia asserting her godhood.

The Sephiroth smiled, kissing her cheek with blood stained lips. She turned her face to catch his lips with hers, but he vanished. She was free to move again, but her hunger was far from sated.

"Stand up, all of you," Zyrdicia called, her voice echoing through the hall without magical amplification. They obeyed, and she turned to face the five musicians behind her. "Your ban from playing in Lyr is dissolved. You have my blessing."

Then she walked across the magical catwalk over the crowd's head to the place where Draven was waiting, staring at her in slack-jawed wonder. He wasn't what she really wanted right now. But he was a convenient outlet for her frustration. She grabbed his arm and pulled him after her.