“The world should burn with everyone in it, we’re just wasting away with every awful minute,” Oden sang along to their favorite song as they logged into the message board to check for any messages they may have received. It had been almost two weeks since they last spoke to Josie and they were starting to grow concerned from the sudden silence. After daily chats together, their messages just stopped coming without warning. They barely knew what kind of home life Josie had, though they did know she lived within the city, and that at times their neighborhood could be rough. Powerless to do anything, Oden continued singing to distract themselves from their worries.

Their music was so loud they missed the tiny little knock at their door, and so they were startled when suddenly they saw someone standing watching them out of the corner of their eye.

"Hi Odie!" Quinn chirped in her sweet little voice.

"Quinn!" Odens racing heart began to settle and they waited a moment to talk as they tried to catch their breath, "sweetie, please do not sneak up on me like that."

"I knocked but you wouldn't answer," the little girl pouted.

"I am sorry, I just did not hear you," they slipped their headphones off their head and turned to face their little friend.

"Are you okay, Odie, you look sad," she tilted her head, "were you crying?"

"I am fine, just watery eyes, most likely allergies," Oden took a tissue from a nearby box and dried their eyes, "see, I am fine."

"It's okay Odie, you can cry, I cry all the time."

"But you are a little kid sweetie."

"We're the same age!" She protested.

It was true that they were most likely the same age, at least based on what age she had appeared the day they first met, but as time moved on Oden aged normally while Quinn oddly stayed the same. The silver-haired girl that stood before Oden now was the same little girl that they first saw four years prior, in almost every way. She looked like a child, spoke like a child, and understood the world like a child. Oden wondered if it had anything to do with the time she got kidnapped, though that seemed unlikely. Perhaps what was more plausible was a strange side effect of her being a demon just like Oden. 

The little girl's mismatched eyes lit up and she leaned forward with a big cheesy smile, "Odie, Odie, can I do your makeup? Mama got you some new makeups right?"

Oden ruffled the girl's hair, "sure thing sweetie." 

With a gleeful chirp little Quinn went straight to work the moment Oden presented her with the make up. Like a little artist she took a brush and began painting her masterpiece on the canvas that was Oden's face. Though she was a child, Quinn picked up skills pretty quickly, and in just a couple of years she came to understand blending and contouring with makeup in a way even Oden couldn't quite grasp. With the adorably focused look of a master intently focused on their work, she examined Oden carefully before declaring her work, "all done!" She hopped up and down excited as Oden turned and walked to see themselves in their full body mirror, "what do you think? Pretty right?"

The little girl did indeed do a good job, Oden felt absolutely beautiful, barely recognizing their own reflection as anything other than some pretty stranger staring back at them. The sight opened up a deep longing inside of them, one that both filled them and yet made them feel so empty. In their mind they thought of how badly they wished to be cute, how much they wanted to be a girl. "Sinner," a voice hissed at the back of their mind as they focused on their wish.

"Huh, what did you say?" Oden turned to Quinn who looked at her, puzzled.

"I didn't say anything, Odie," the little girl tilted her head, "but you look really pretty!"

"I do," Oden smiled softly and turned back to the mirror, "if only I could look pretty all the time…"

"Sinner," the voice spoke again, smothering Oden's mind in a black cloud, "sinner, sinner, sinner!" It repeated till Oden fell to their knees, holding their head as she was accosted by the accusations of some invisible accuser, "wretched sinner, pervert, creep!" It continued to hurl insults as Oden broke down crying.

"Odie!" Quinn sprang to her feet, standing beside her friend while keeping her distance, "Odie what's wrong?"

"No, no I am not, I am not a sinner," Oden whimpered as they curled themselves up and cried, "please, please stop it!" Their mind was overtaken by the onslaught of nasty words from man she could not see, her whole perception of the world around her steadily going black. Then just as they felt near their breaking point, Oden felt the tender loving warmth of Quinn's arms wrapping around them in a loving embrace.

"It's okay Odie, I'll take the bad thoughts away," she whispered, "it's okay." As the child held them, Oden could feel the pain leave their body as their mind passed into a peaceful darkness.

Hours later Oden sat at their computer again, humming along to music, wondering why Quinn hadn't come to visit her that day. She had been so excited when Oden had last told her they could spend time together, so then where was she? Looking at the clock they suddenly felt their heart leap, it was nearly evening, and they truly could not recall what had happened to the rest of the day. "It happened again; I'm losing time..."

***

Traversing the tunnels was second nature for the members of the Fire Pit, even in the dim lighting they could spy the markings that directed them through the channels and networks underneath the city, Isa however was a foreigner in this hidden world that existed beneath her feet this entire time. Her eyes had yet to grow acquainted with the darkness, though where her eyes failed her, her ears compensated. The distinct crunch of gravel under the feet of a stalker was all the warning she needed to spin to her left and parry a sudden attack from out of the shadows.

“Very good,” Arasta gave her light praise as Isa blocked her spear with their own polearm, “you’re learning.” 

Isa chuckled nervously, "yeah?" even though the blade of her adopted mother's spear was covered, she was thankful that this time it did not strike her, “I’m a pretty quick learner.”

Arasta clicked her tongue and quickly shifted her weapon to strike Isa’s leg with the shaft, causing her knee to buckle, “though perhaps not quick enough,” she said, her spear’s sheathed blade now at Isa’s neck.

“Tch, try it again tomorrow, I’ll show ya how quick I really am,” Isa scoffed, diverting her gaze.

The woman pushed her child over with her foot and held her blade to Isa’s chest, “there is no tomorrow if your enemy kills you,” her single visible blue-eye shone with a fierceness that intimidated the young girl, “until you are killed you still can fight, do not yield now!”

The girl growled, then smacked aside her mother's spear with her own and quickly scrambled to her feet assuming a fighting stance. 

“Your stance is still too sloppy,” the woman howled, spinning her spear to strike Isa’s leg again, nearly causing her to fall a second time, “don’t watch my spear, watch my body, pay attention to every movement of every muscle and predict my attack with that,” she instructed, thrusting her weapon in a wild burst of attacks. 

Even heading her advice, Isa struggled to match her speed, despite the fact her opponent only had one arm Isa still found herself overwhelmed by Arasta’s skill with the spear. Her own hold of her weapon weakened with each attack she blocked, her hands stinging from the reverberating shaft. If she was going to win this battle she would have to go on the offensive, so the moment she thought there was an opening she swung her spear down, only for Arasta to kick it aside while swinging her own towards Isa’s neck. Narrowly the young girl avoided what would have been the finishing blow, losing her balance as she attempted to duck. While the spear may not have struck her, she was now at a disadvantage having fallen on her back yet again. Panicking, she quickly picked herself up, lowering her head for only a moment as she climbed her way off the ground, only to see Arasta's spear stop a hair's width away from her eye as she raised her gaze back to her opponent.

“You lost, again,” the woman said, dropping her offensive stance, “however, you lasted three minutes longer than yesterday,” she added, throwing her spear over her back in its holster. She extended her hand down to Isa helping her to her feet.

“I’m twelve, of course I lost,” Isa argued, taking her adopted mother’s hand.

Arasta shook her head, “I do not expect a child to best me in combat, I was a captain in the army after all, what I expect is for you to continue to learn,” she bent down and examined Isa for injuries, “how is your leg, do you need a bandage?”

She shook her head, “It’ll bruise, but you didn’t cut me,” laughing she added, “this time.”

“Come, we’ll get you cleaned up,” Arasta placed her hand over her daughter's shoulder and guided her through the tunnels back to their home.

Despite having spent the past few weeks with Arasta, Isa still had no sense of where she was in relation to the city above, had she not been with someone she'd simply wander aimlessly in the darkness till she could find illumination from the few paths lit by mining lights. Aside from combat training, that was another point of knowledge Arasta had been attempting to pass along to Isa.

“Can you tell me what that says, love?,” she referred to what looked almost like scratches on the wall beside them.

“Path by east river?”

“No, child, you have reversed the characters,” she corrected her, “path along eastern woods.” No matter how many times she tried to explain it, Isa could not understand, leading Arasta to come to a simple conclusion, “I am going to have to be patient with you, I had wished to test your ability to navigate the tunnels sooner, but that will have to be delayed.” Isa did not look forward to being left to fend for herself in the dark underground, though she also did not wish to disappoint her newfound guardian. Still, learning to read was difficult enough, learning to read intentionally hidden characters in barely lit tunnels was a whole different hurdle she’d have to overcome. 

“Who made up those symbols anyway?” Isa grumbled, a little miffed at her own difficulty with reading.

Arasta laughed, “they are not made up, or at least not entirely, they are based on the language of my homeland, though they have been modified to better suit our needs here.” Arasta was of a race from the southwest island of Erif, a nation that had been isolated from the Nameless Nation until they had come to their aid during the Ignoble War, she had explained to Isa. “It is quite unlikely that nobles, shepherds, or any other unwanted interlopers would know the meaning of the words; that coupled with the role my people played in building the underground made it the perfect secret language for us to adapt.” 

She knew nothing about the so-called Ignoble War, nor any nation outside the Nameless Nation, but she also had no desire to ask unnecessary questions. Arasta was patient with her, but she consistently worried that her patience could eventually wear thin. Though she wouldn’t have said she had an emotional attachment to her adoptive mother, she still did not want to risk being cast out onto the streets again, and that was enough to keep her from rocking the boat. Still, she enjoyed learning anything she could when the knowledge was offered to her. With that brief history lesson concluding, the daughter and mother emerged from the tunnel into the cellar of the ‘Fire Pit’, where a friend awaited them.

"Isa, do you know what your name means?" Arasta switched topics, throwing Isa off with the shift in her tone. The girl merely shook her head and waited for her mother to tell her, "it means 'Joy' in the ancient tongue."

"Well I certainly don't feel joyful," Isa grumbled.

"Perhaps not," Arasta chuckled, "to cary the weight of such a name, it brings great expectations with it. Perhaps you are meant to be the joy in another's life."

Isa scoffed and shook her head again, thinking to herself, I doubt that. Though as the pair walked the tunnels, she allowed herself to imagine for a moment that perhaps there was someone who's life she could bring joy to. 

“You look a little worse for wear,” a friendly voice greeted Isa, “guess I will have to make you a new skirt, won’t I?” A tall blond girl, roughly sixteen years of age, leaned against a table holding a small plush toy against her flat chest.

“Huh? Do I know ya?” Isa examined her closely, scrutinizing every detail as she tried to recall. Of course, not many people had been kind to her throughout her life, so it was not exactly like she had a long list to go through to figure it out. The girls sparkling blue eyes and bright friendly smile tipped her off, though her wardrobe was the most telling. She wore a flared dress adorned with plenty of unnecessary bows and a ribboned corset. The materials were of far lower quality than the dresses she used to make, but the style was what gave it away. As soon as that came clear to her, she didn’t have to think any further, “Jojo?”

“It’s Josie now, but I am glad you remember me,” she held out her arms and Isa immediately ran to hug her, the two of them embracing each other tightly. Josie stroked the back of her head as they hugged, “I was so afraid you had died, I can’t tell you how happy I was when Kara told me she found you!”

 Isa rubbed her face into the girl's chest, drying her tears on Josie’s dress, “you promised you would come back for me, what happened?”

“I did come back, but when I did there was nothing left of Valha but ashes, everyone said Loche had killed you for starting a fire,” she clung even tighter to the young girl, “after that I went home and my father… no, I do not have to burden you with that. I ran away, Kara found me and took me in, and I never looked back at my old life again.”

“I tried to find you at your dad's shop, though if you ran away, I guess that explains it,” Isa’s eyes started to dry, “still, I was afraid you just didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“I wanted nothing more than to find you, I even tried the v-space message boards talking about demons or people with silver hair and different colored eyes just to see if anyone saw you.” Isa had no idea what v-space or message boards were, though she assumed that must have been some kind of board hanging on the walls of bars and shops, like the ones she saw at Aakaries. Still, knowing Josie had gone looking for her helped ease the painful sting of abandonment she had been feeling, if only just a little.

“Oh, I brought you something!” Josie let the girl go for a moment to retrieve the plush toy from the table, “look, I fixed her up just like I promised!” She presented her with a small black stuffed toy of a bat like creature with a cute pink bow on its head.

Isa’s eyes lit up as she grabbed hold of the toy and hugged it tightly, “Batty!”

“Sorry that I got her to you a little late,” Josie gave Isa a gentle pat on the head, “but better late than never right?”

“Thank you Josie!” Isa hugged her again, holding tight to both her friend and her plushy. 

The two spent the next couple of hours catching up. Josie explained how just like Isa she discovered her own identity as a girl, and since became a big sister to the orphans under Kara’s care. Taking time to explain her own small part in an attempt to better the lives of the less fortunate within the city. She had also explained how rumors started spreading about a kid with silver hair that had become quite a menace.    

“Josie, those boys you saved, and a handful of others individuals along the way helped craft your legend here, the ‘Odd eyed Devil’ as it were,” Arasta explained returning her spear to a rack before taking a seat at the table, “it is all their testimonies that had brought you to my intention, Isa.”

“Honestly, I am glad that you were able to find your way here,” Josie added, “especially in the care of another demon. I will admit, I didn’t believe the rumors, but it seems Nios was real afterall.”

“Nios is my deadname, child, it is simply Arasta now,” she sighed and reclined back in her chair, “even were it not a mans name, that name would not fit me anymore. He died when I was born.”

“I didn't mean to offend you, I know that you are not Nios, I simply just never thought such a person existed in the first place,” she explained the meaning of her words in a half apology. “A silver haired captain with two different colored eyes who fought with the ferocity of ten-thousand men sounds like quite the tall tale after all.”

“For one, when I was Nios I did not have silver hair, nor differently colored eyes,” this answer was one that Isa had not expected, suddenly she was intrigued to hear more about Arasta’s past, “hm? I take it you do not know our true nature then Isa?” The girl shook her head and Arasta chuckled, “no, I suppose you wouldn’t, listen well then and I will tell you the truth of what we are.” 

Isa nodded and leaned in, a strange sense of excitement bubbling inside her. For many years she was an outcast, reviled by those around her without ever truly knowing why. She wanted to drink in Arasta’s every word, to know her true nature.

“They call us demons, but according to the ancients we are what is known as ‘Alters’, new souls created from the splitting of another soul,” demon or alter, the word didn’t matter to Isa, she simply wanted to know what it actually meant, “when a soulseed is put through an exorbitant amount of trauma, it often breaks. For many this is the end of their life, but for some, the fragments of their soulseed heal and form new beings.”  

“Soulseed?” Isa questioned.

“Conscious energy that is in essence the very thing which makes you who you are,” Arasta clarified, “a soulseed is a part of a much larger entity, the soulroot, which is the flow of life between all worlds. At least, that is what the wanderer has taught me.” Her explanation increased Isa’s desire to speak with Vox, to learn all that she could learn about herself from him.

“So, what you are sayin is that I used to be someone else?”

Her mother shook her head and corrected her, “you were part of someone else, though you are now a completely new person. Likely you are not the only alter to come from this person. I believe that your alter lives within the city as well.”

Josie laughed, drawing the others' attention to her, “oh no, I’m sorry,” she waved one hand while covering her mouth with the other, “it’s just that reminded me of how Isa told me she just ‘popped into existence’, and I didn’t really believe her. Guess it makes sense now though.” 

Isa had vaguely remembered the conversation, how she told her she awoke in a strange house, before being chased out by guards. 

“What more could you tell me about the day you were formed?” Arasta asked.

Isa scratched her chin and leaned her head back as she struggled to recall, “it was a big fancy house. I remember a boy bein there, I think, and a little girl,” her head began to pound while more and more details came bursting through the dam of her memories, “a man was hurting the boy, or maybe they were a girl… I don’t know, but the man was doing… he was… I tried to stop him, she was so scared and I just wanted to stop him.. I…” an inky black haze blinded Isa as she spoke.

“I am going to kill him!” a voice howled out through Isa as her vision faded out for some time.

Her rage subsided and she could see again, her fingers bloody and resting in deep gashes that had been clawed into the wooden table in front of her. Josie looked at her with a mix of terror and concern painted on her face, “Isa, sweetie, are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know.”