Dusk

_____The throneroom was empty as she stepped inside, as quiet and dead as the kingdom that lay in ruins around the marble tower. She wasn't the one who emptied this city, no; it was long dead, centuries before she even came into the world. The followers of this eldritch monstrosity died off or left, as they should. A creature this unholy doesn't deserve followers. If, perhaps, she had found a thriving community, the streets would've been painted red with those who refused to part ways with their faith. Not the first time, not the last. She was no saint. And her targets knew that.

_____First order of business; cut down that beating abomination hanging right behind the throne. Clear, fleshy walls pulsed with unseen muscles, the shimmering golden fluid within quivering with the vibrations. Pipes like black veins drained more liquid within, but she could see this god hadn't had their Heart filled for some time. As to be expected of one whose cultists are gone. The simple sword was brandished, the steel sizzling in the presence of unholy matter; she gave it what it desired, cutting down each tube with expert strikes. The Heart flinched with each slash, until it shivered, isolated from its sources. There was no hesitation as one final blow sent it crashing to the floor, the glowing ichor granting the tile floor with an unnatural glow.

_____"I suppose there's not much use in hiding, is there?" A draconic form blurred into existence on the balcony, taking the form of the same manner of beast she was. Skydancer. And quite the mockery of her form, complete with the same markings and colors. It was only a mockery, though, as the true eldritch monster could be seen beneath a rippling mirage.

_____"At least you face your end with courage." The scraggly, hoarse voice was leagues away from his ethereal, unaged facade, the only grounding force in this dream of a temple. "No tricks, no desperate pleas, no last stands. Almost puts a smile on my face."

_____"No tricks," he smiled, rows of teeth too sharp for a Skydancer. "But I have an offer."

_____"Then speak it before my blade reaches your core." The silent countdown began, the Godhunter casually strolling through the throneroom to reach the beast of sin that stood opposite of her.

_____"You've lost your attunement, I can tell." The Godhunter simply nods, but continues her pace. Why hide what he can clearly see? "And unfortunately, there's not one of us left that would let you close enough to attune with us." That was also true, and she knew where he was going with this. It didn't slow her approach. Get on with it, monster. "I can offer you the assistance you need to track down the last of the ascended. No promise for my life, you can end it as soon as you're done. But an offer to simply get the job done faster." She stood mere paces from him now, raising the sword as she contemplated his offer. "So?"

_____The blade found itself impaling through his stomach, too low to kill him outright. He shifted uneasily as the hissing metal melted divine flesh, his immortal soul not registering the pain beyond a mild itch.

_____"Why would you care to help me?"

_____"I lost my empire long ago. I have nothing beyond a few fairytales that hatchlings are told to keep them inside at night. I linger on the edges of mortality and immortality, awaiting the time that you came."

_____"And?"

_____"And you took so damn long."

_____She cackles, an actual fit of laughter, before cleaving his body in two; the mirror Skydancer collapses in a pool of ichor, a small, golden orb of magic remaining.

_____"Stuff me in your pocket, I don't care. But your feathers are going to be grey and mottled by the time you reach those who remain-- they'll forget the fear of the years that their brethren fell, one by one, to a single wyrm. It took you so long to find me, when I made myself known to you; who knows when you'll find the next one on your own? New ascended might spring up in that time, who knows."

_____"Quit your yappin'." Two claws swiped the orb from the air, sneering as a meek 'careful' squeaked from it as they sank into its gooey flesh. The sword was sheathed back into place, and the freed hand patted her sash for the small flask she usually carried. The contents were emptied with a quick swig, and the orb was squished into the opening. The ethereal voice called out once more.

_____"It's a bit cramped in there-- might I be allowed out at some point?"

_____"Maybe."

_____The orb finally caved through with a soft pop.

_____"Probably not."

_____She could swear there was a soft groan from the metal prison.