Eve rented a car the next day and called Aska from her burner. She didn’t do friends anymore, but she would never have survived so long if she didn’t have a couple of...acquaintances.

Helpful ones.

“Yo,” the girl said, the sounds of running water in the background. “Long time no call.”

“Sorry,” Eve cringed, hearing the careless irritation in that tone, shifting the phone to her other ear. “You know I’ve never been the best at calling.”

“Stupid. Even though you made me buy the phone. Do you know what a hassle it is to keep it functional? There’s no electricity in Cropis.”

“Well, you’re the one who told me not to use magic,” Eve argued back, eyes flicking sideways as she changed lanes.

“Yeah,” Aska drawled. “Because you’re literally not built to handle it anymore.” There was a sound akin to a stone falling into water, and then a long, drawn out sigh. The running water cut out. It was unusual for any of the divine to bathe; there was no need, not when magic would keep you clean. But Aska had always enjoyed it. The poor woman’s body ran so hot that a cold bath helped temper some of that discomfort.

Or so she said.

Eve wasn’t sure that was the honest reasoning, since being warm was Aska’s natural stage of being. But the Elder God of energy had always been a particular one.

“I’m dropping by,” Eve said, for lack of anything else to say.

“You overdid it again,” Aska hummed. It was accusing.

“No,” Eve replied, and the retort sounded weak, even to her. “It was necessary.”

“I’m sure it was,” Aska said in a tone that meant that it had been anything but. For a second, there was only the sound of her splashing around in the tub.

“It’s been almost ten years,” Eve whispered. An even weaker argument to make with an immortal. But she needed the help and was not above begging if need be. Her leg, where it pressed the gas pedal, trembled, joint aching. The silence stretched on. Then Aska sighed, dulcet.

“Fine. Swing by. I’ll get you patched up. But you better bring those things you had last time.”

“The donuts?”

“Yes!” Her voice was positively delighted. “Those.”

“Be there soon,” Eve promised.

“Don’t rush,” Aska purred. “I’ve just gotten in the bath.” There was a click as she hung up the phone.

Her friend had always had a sweet tooth. She should have led with a bribe and spared herself the judgment.

Eve drove for a long time after that pit stop, maybe around two hours, in utter silence. Up North, the foliage grew sparser, and the wind coming in from the coast picked up. There wasn’t a single town around, the unassuming, empty county a mess of empty farming fields. Burnt sugar tickled her nose, sinking into the car upholstery, and she rolled all the windows down to fight the sickly smell.

She passed a small pond, and an unassuming directional sign.

Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Eve edged off the road, and between two trees.

It was a subtle sensation, when it happened. The tear in reality. A mere ripple across the skin, a caress soft enough to be mistaken as a warm gale.

But the change was immediately visible.

The city of Cropis was built along one of the edges - the narrow strips that stretched between dimensions. There were only a handful of them, and they weren’t accessible to humans. Even if some poor soul haplessly drove through, they would soon find themselves stranded by the entrance with no memory of how they’d arrived.

‘Course, Eve wasn’t exactly entirely human.

She kept her hands on the steering wheel only through habit. Eve felt as though she was dissolving, driving without volition, mind spinning in circles hopelessly. And it was familiar to her, after so many passages in between, but fuck it felt wrong, coursing like poison through her veins.

The world grew dark as her car bobbed beneath the weight of the uneven ground. An eerie, mint green glow flashed through the windows, giving her skin a sicklish sheen. It emanated from the magic keeping the city afloat, dozens of islands crowded with spiraling towers and temples without any sense of style or consistency. Stretching into the sky, imposing over all of them, was an arch - the gateway into the mythic lands - and through it, Eve could see perfect blue skies. The air here practically teemed with old magic, stinging at her eyes and pressing heavily across her shoulders.

She parked, somehow. Her breath came in huge, heaving gasps, rattling her ribs with their strength. There wasn’t enough time for this. Dazedly, almost out-of-body, Eve abandoned the car, slipping out of it and onto one of a hundred cobblestone bridges. The box of donuts swung loosely in her grasp while she twisted down, avoiding the searching beam of light from one of the city sentinels.

Cropis always had been a little anal about its security measures.

The guardian took one enormous, shuddering step towards the car, four eyes like headbeams and toes bigger than Eve’s entire body. After decades in the human world, the shape of it was more cow-like than intimidating, and there wouldn’t have been any need to worry if the beast didn’t have an absurdly good sense of smell.

Good thing her car stunk of dessert more than human. Of course, she couldn’t ever be certain that it would be enough.

One fur-coated foot came down atop the hunk of metal, flattening it thoroughly. The screech rang into the distance, bridge filling with the scent of metal and gasoline.

That would do it. Nothing living could have survived that.

For how much the divine relied on humans, they never had liked seeing any traces of their pitiful existence.

Passerbys gawked at the vehicle, looking for its owner, but Eve had already yanked her hoodie up and over her head, melting into the crowd.

This, she thought as she let the city swallow her, is why I don’t get attached to cars anymore.

-

Among the more minor grievances Eve had with the world were two things: first the fact that something always had to be happening, and second, the astounding tendency of said thing to go suddenly and horribly wrong.

All this to say that the sweet scent of donuts had caught some strange insect’s attention. This wouldn’t have normally been a problem, but the bug’s wingspan was the length of her arm and it had a half-insane glint in its compound eyes.

She hadn’t bothered arguing, just held the box out and fought not to flinch when its mandibles skimmed close to her skin. Now she was lost, and donut-less.

Eve was a dead woman. There were few things Aska disliked more than tardiness.

Nearly a head shorter than most of the deities in Cropis, Eve trekked silently higher, towards the tops of those craggy peaks. Her movements were deliberately unhurried so as not to draw any additional unnecessary attention. There was no wind here, air so stagnant and full that each inhale slipped like liquid through her lungs. She glanced up, half expecting to see storm clouds, but the sky was conspicuously dark and empty, without even a single star. Only that syrupy, greenish glow that leaked vertically into an infinite distance.

From somewhere to the west, the tolling of bells rippled over the endless hills.

Eve turned away from the sound and headed East, into a mess of gloomy alleyways crammed between gargantuan mansions and stores - none of which looked familiar. A river the color of green jade pierced the street, gurgling softly and smelling faintly of sulfur. It plunged past the buildings and over the edge of the island, free-falling hundreds of feet into the darkness below. She wasn’t sure what it was, and she felt disinclined to touch it, hissing as it was with power. But it was certainly too broad to jump over.

Evaluating the nearest building, Eve sighed and curled her hands into the dark brick, nails chipping with the strength of her hold. Cautious and trembling slightly, unused to such physical labor, Eve pulled herself flat against the wall, and then began to inch slowly, painstakingly, along the length of that shimmering fluid in the hopes of finding a bridge.

The source of the liquid was an aqueduct of some sort. It ran along the ground for only two blocks before the watercourse lifted skywards on stilts of gray stone. Sticky with sweat, Eve stepped onto firm beneath it, having to crouch slightly, and exhaled a shaking breath.

What on earth were the mythics channeling, where to, and why?

And how could they possibly dare to leave it unattended?

It was a sudden thought, and one that made her pause. There wasn’t a chance anything with that much old magic was unguarded. Then that meant -

Eve’s gaze swiveled, hardly daring to move, and landed several feet to her left. There, at the base of the nearest pillar, a half-shadowed figure. A Nai Ga. A sanctifier.

It was nightmarish, just as she remembered these creatures being. Human in form, dressed in gauzy robes of gray over pitch black armor. For now, the sanctifier remained kneeling, knees spread piously, palms pressed together in opposite directions in prayer to the elders. She could see how long it had been there, everlasting candles balanced across bulky shoulder pads and arranged in a sinister crown over the headpiece covering the top half of its face. The wax had formed stalactites that hung from the edges of its perfectly still body. Perhaps a week since it had last moved. That estimate would line up to the rust-colored stain across its front.

But she was safe, for now. The candles still glowed. It hadn’t sensed her. Not yet. Eve took a cautious, silent step backwards. She’d find another way around.

Sanctifiers didn’t have eyes - had given those away, in exchange for the sight of the old ones. The highest and most devout followers of the Elder Gods, they were also the most dangerous.

A sound cut through the air. Cheery and bubbly, a lighthearted guitar. Her cellphone ringtone - the only one Eve hadn’t found annoying when setting up the blasted device, and now murderously hated. She scrambled, hands jerking, turning the phone off, but even then, the sound seemed to warble off slowly, soaking into the devout silence.

Atop the sanctifier’s head, the candles went out.

Oh.

Oh no.