The Lady of Venus stared into the roaring waves with a melancholy air.

Further out, upon the horizon, a glow of sickly green met her gaze, followed then still by a wall of storm clouds, hurricanes and tornadoes that semi-permanently divided the lands of this world.

She peered beyond, waiting for the great titan ships of Nidhogg to breach those walls of wind, waiting for the war to begin.

She was tense these days, and had been since late. 

News of Jupiter’s fall hadn’t spread through the camp, it hadn’t had any impact on their people’s morale, but it still weighed on her own mind quite strongly.

She’d done all she could by now and she didn’t really have the power to do much of anything else.

Sand crunched under her heels, her armored skirt, ankle length and plated, danced in the wind.

Ash coalesced beyond her fingers, forming a vortex.

Her eyes trembled, brain ached, and then the spiral vanished.

She huffed, and closed her eyes to try and dispel the dizziness that came from the burdensome overtax.

She knew it now, in fact she’d known since a long time ago now, that it was impossible for her to use this technique.

The mind of a human wasn’t able to manage the minute control this technique demanded, that was why her mentor, taking a page from Mallius’ book, had modified her nervous system to have multiple sub-brains that worked to carry out the necessary calculations.

His son, Gaius, seemed to know the theory at least, as did Erus as a matter of fact, but she couldn’t imitate them even if she wanted to.

Advanced Mutation, the power of the Platinum Class, which she decisively lacked and could never attain, was necessary to make such modifications to the human body and brain.

She lowered her palm as darkness swept in.

Her gaze moved inland to the place where the deepest shadows gathered.

There she saw a lady who looked even more out of place than a woman upon the battlefield already should be.

She clad herself in black, trod unstable sand on high heeled slippers without leaving so much as an indent, and let her slitted dress, torn at the hem and sleeves, dance with her hair that was wild in the wind.

‘She’s not human,’ Thought the girl who beheld this alien scene, ‘It’s been on my mind for a while now.’

She just couldn’t believe the rumors that this woman, who on paper was but Motuus’ humble assistant, was in reality his “mistress” or new lover.

She had to imagine it was something else altogether.

Naturally she wouldn’t judge Mortuus for having a mistress, it was normal, even expected, for a man of his standing, especially after his wife had been dead for so long, but his devotion to her memory was well known and it seemed unlikely that he would have moved on.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me out here,” Said the woman.

The Lady of Venus half closed her eyes, her long and many lashes hooded her pupils like black umbrellas as she looked beyond her uninvited guest.

She glanced towards her husband, Alexander, who emerged from the rocks and then stood arms crossed at a reasonable distance.

Only then did she finally ask the all important question.

“Who...or rather what...are you?” An amused smile formed on Dire’s lips in that instant.

She rather liked this Lady of Venus, this naive but wise young girl who thought she knew the world.

Her intuition, it seemed, had approached the truth, however hard it was for her to grasp.

“That’s a good question,” Said Dire, “The simplest answer would be...a conscientious objector?”

“Are you making fun of me?” Said Rusalka with a brush of anger.

“I do like to tease,” Said Dire, “but I’m not making fun of you this time, I’m afraid. Let’s see...you can consider me an ally, I suppose? If nothing else.”

‘That’s rich,’ is what Rusalka found herself thinking in response to that claim.

Who in their sane mind would ever trust such a person as this?

Rusalka was many things, but she was definitely not an idiot.

“I cannot trust you,” She said and Dire could not do more than shrug her shoulders in return. 

Even the Lady’s husband, Alexander, seemed to tacitly agree with a nodding of his head, though he remained taciturn and silent while the women had their talk.

That silence seemed to infect them too however, and only after a while did Dire let loose a huff and place her hands upon her hips.

With a slight sway in her stance she turned an eye upon the man behind her.

“Don’t you two ever compromise, honestly? I know you’ve been through a lot but is it really alright for you to just turn down my help without even considering it?”

The man did not respond and this time neither did his wife.

Naturally, they simply didn’t believe her words were worth listening to.

Dire then let loose yet another bitter sigh.

She shrugged her shoulders as she walked towards Rusalka’s side.

“Do you think you can keep going like this for much longer?”

She asked, vanishing, reappearing and then leaning her lips so close to the Lady’s ear that there was no doubt she could hear her whispering loud and clear.

“You will die, and quite soon I’d wager. Miracles may happen once, even twice, but they do not happen thrice.”

“I don’t recall asking for your help, not at any point,” Said the Lady of Venus with some irritation.

She waved away Dire, whose lips were practically pressing to her cheeks, and then a trembling shiver washed over her.

Dire had no breath, she’d not felt it on her skin at all, and as she shoved her aside, her flesh, her dress, none of it felt like human skin nor the garments used to adorn them should feel.

She was like air, or something metallic, yes, and somehow both and neither at the very same time.

Speaking frankly, not even she could make any sense of it.

“You don’t mean to tell me that you’re doing just fine on your own, do you?” Said Dire, who seemed wholly indifferent to Rusalka’s startled surprise.

Her words, however, started to grate on her in her present state of mind.

She began to take in the truth of the Einherjar’s cold remarks, long before she’d even gotten to the meat of it.

“Both of you know well that you’ve only narrowly escaped having your heads lopped off by the Prince of this nation. I’ll ask again, is it really alright for you to keep doing things on your own?” 

They knew she had a point, in fact Erus was if anything being unusually reasonable with them. 

Rusalka knew that at the very least that she herself would not be so forgiving if she were in his position. 

Clearly, he was being considerate of her due to his sister’s past friendship, but that too would surely have its limits if tested much further.

They weren’t on thin ice anymore, no, for the ice had already half melted away under their feet and left them half sunk into the water.

Even still, what could they say?

“Mind your own business,” Was Rusalka’s answer. However,

“Ru...hear her out,” Her husband overruled her.

She glanced at him through the corner of her eye.

He remained aloof, indifferent on the surface, but she’d learned to read his expressions well. 

Whenever he gave her that look she would often find herself to be the one in the wrong when hindsight reared its head at a later given hour.

She huffed and turned away from the both of them, she was unable to confront them.

“So my husband’s on another woman’s side now?” The Lady said snappishly.

“Oh please, I’m old enough to be your grandmother several dozen generations over, little girl,” The Einherjar remarked in turn.

Only now did the couple raise their brows in stunned horror.

Perhaps she didn’t notice, or maybe she didn’t care?

She revealed her true nature with the height of indifference, never once minding their reactions. Was this deliberate, was it a slip of the tongue? Neither of them could pick either one.

“Your man is just less stubborn than you are,” Said Dire, who carried on without a care. 

Rusalka’s knuckles tensed up, but the Einherjar did not nudge her. 

Either way, she knew that the girl could remain obstinate no longer.

The hurricane parted, once, twice, twenty times.

Great serpents emerged from the other side, the void left at their backs soon greeted the Skithblathnir of Nidhogg, the titanic boats who rivaled each a full city in their size.

That reality finally wore down her very last barrier.

The war was close, now mere days lingered before landfall, the Skithblathnir were slow, after all, but they were also near enough unstoppable.

“Fine,” She gave up, and Dire’s smile softened soon after.

The lady turned on her heels, she shot a glance upon her husband, though it was only a feeble one.

Her eyes told him that she felt a little wronged by his choice to side with Dire, but he didn’t mind.

Every so often she could be stubborn, far too much so for her own good.

His respect for her and her autonomy did not prevent him from laying down the law when he felt the need of it.

He did not trust Dire either, of course, but he was willing to give her a shot at least.

The underlying reason was that Mortuus, whom he’d once asked for Dire’s identity, told him she was trustworthy, if only more than a little bit shady.

“Let’s assume for the moment that I’m open to accepting your so-called help...what kind can you, a mere ‘objector’, provide?”

Dire smiled, then she peered off towards the sea and the encroaching enemy; an ice cold glare took form in the deepest depths of her deep black pupils.

There was not a single person who wouldn’t know that look, indeed both Rusalka and Alexander could identify it quite well.

She was like a hawk eyeing up twenty little worms crawling on the ground, and five slightly big fish, that’s how she looked at them, at the enemy Leviathans and Skithblanirs which they, as mere mortals, had dreaded so badly.