Dead Man Walking: Living By Day, Dead By Night

Zane witnessed his newest servant kneeling before him. His face was expressionless, his form identical to how he was in years past. Not the slightest hint of aging on him. His body had ceased to be bound by time's grace the moment his heart stopped beating.

Ophelia continued to kneel, her head lowered with deference, not by force. And Zane noticed this, standing silently, waiting to see how long she would continue to bow and prostrate before him even if he no longer applied the pressure.

Yet the longer he stood there in silence, nothing changed, to the point where Tabitha and Gwen eventually complained in unison, forcing Zane's hand in the matter.

"Oh, for the love of mother, will you please fucking stop this gesture of futility, whether or not her loyalty is by forced obedience, or purehearted intentions it bears no meaning in practice, little brother just accept it, and move on. The clock is ticking after all!"

"Big sister is right! Big brother, Ophelia has kneeled. She has been defeated. Her losses are your gains, and there is another battlefield to rage on! How much longer are we going to continue with this farce?"

Zane sighed. They may be immortal, but their understanding of time itself was as shallow as the living whose world they had shattered with their birth. He could only shake his head and give permission to Ophelia to rise lest her knees be cemented to the floor for all of eternity.

"Fine, you may rise to your feet, Ophelia. I expect valuable things from you in the future…"

Zane's last words trailed off, almost as if they forced him into deep contemplation regarding just how much longer the future would go on for now that they were no longer bound by the eternal rest of death, or the life that came after.

Either way, his focus was shifted westward as he could practically sense the panic belonging to Damian and Lilith, who both knew their time had been shortened. Ophelia was number two in this entire world, her power second only to Balthasar, and even then she had been a force the so called first among the Horde Kings had not dared challenge.

Not because victory wasn't certain, but it was a pyrrhic victory at best, one that would have been the ruin of both of them. But now she was gone, and the shadow of Zane's power increased, rather than diminished, causing the few who remained to challenge him and his power to shrink back in dread.

Lilith was of course no exception to this, and Bartholomew who felt Ophelia's death, and had been hiding the shadow of his master for too long could not help but fall to the floor and enter the fetal position as he rocked back and forth, shivering in terror at the prospect of what had just occurred.

"No way… Ophelia…. She's gone… He got her… The true son of Death… We're next!"

Lilith however was far more calm and composed, or at least managed to somehow display such a façade as even her hands were still when she drank from the glass filled with the last of her livestock's sanguine essence.

The war between her and Balthasar had consumed all her resources, yet Ophelia's death at the hands of Zane had dealt that bastard a brutal blow. The last of his allies was gone, and she? She still had Damian, but it no longer mattered because it was, as Bartholomew had said, Zane was coming for them, and he was doing so with a vengeance the world had never seen before.

Lilith, knowing it was impossible to broker a deal with a man who had no ideas other than total domination, was quick to telepathically reach out across the board, to Damian and Balthasar, as well as any other lower ranked Horde Kings who had managed to hide from the shadow of Death which now covered the entire world.

"I think we need to force a meeting… From the ferocity I feel in my direction right now, either Damian and I are next… And as powerful as you are Balthasar, the swiftness of Ophelia's demise proves that whatever is coming for us is beyond any of our individual strength.

There is no point continuing this war if its end is that we all burn in its flame…."

A single voice echoed in Lilith's mind as she heard the answer she was hoping for.

"Agreed… He will be busy heading west towards Damian's domain by the sounds of it… We should all meet in Tokyo, his journey should buy us time to escape his pursuit and rally together… I will be waiting for you all…"

Lilith sighed after hearing this, any voice was hence cut off as she gazed at the woman chained up in front of her. The legendary goddess of the cult itself. Her vision was blurring, her body covered in cuts, and her skin pale from excessive blood loss.

She had been the last of Lilith's livestock to consume and gain strength from, and as a result, Lilith looked at her with pity in her eyes, gently dragging her fingers across the woman's pristine face, and whispering something in her ears as she did so.

"It's a pity… You would have made a great servant… But this heart of yours is more valuable to me than whatever loyalty you still have to offer. Truly… as I said a pity… You were always a beautiful plaything…"

Before the Goddess of Elysium could respond with a plea, or a beg for mercy, she felt a piercing pain in her chest, as Lilith's nails effortlessly dug into her chest, ripping out her heart almost surgically in an instant, so much so that it was still beating in her hand as she took a bite in it, and that was the last thing the so called Goddess of Elysium saw before her mind suffered total death.

Bartholomew gazed in astonishment as Lilith ripped into the flesh of her sacrificial pawn and recovered his sanity just long enough to question the woman's motives.

"You're not going to raise her?"

Lilith shook her head as the blood dripped from her mouth and responded in between bites of flesh as she informed her fellow Horde King of her reasoning.

"There is no point, without the heart that contains her power, she would be just another walker… And that would be too cruel a fate for my favorite little toy… No, she has served her purpose, and now she rests, forever a part of me in a way… A bit fitting isn't it?"

Ultimately, Bartholomew said nothing. He could only shake his head and sigh, as he returned his attention to the east where the storm was brewing at its fiercest.

"Mother, save us all…."