There is a realm that exists beyond human comprehension. A realm exists under the dirt and rocks of the surface world. A realm dark and hot, dotted with pools of magma, stalagmites that stretch for miles, and seemingly endless fields of ash. A realm that inspires the earthquakes that tears the ground apart beneath ones feet and volcanoes that rain hellfire down from their skies.

At the center of this realm was a fortress, a massive castle of writhing, twisted iron and blackened stone. The building was a behemoth, with metal-clad guards at every arched entryway and high walls and vaulted ceilings inlaid with red glass. At the center of this castle was a creature, reminiscent of a human female, starkly white against the dark stone and metal. She was reclined on a chaise of red satin, watching out from a balcony over the smoky, dimly red landscape.

Steps of a single being echoed on the stones behind her. Not until they approached her did she sit up for her visitor. A short, male-esque figure bowed to her, speaking from a dark, cracked face.

"My empress."

"Do you have something to tell me?"

The visitor looked out the same balcony his mistress was looking. "My empress, we are nearing the end of our calendar's cycle."

"Oh, is it that time of the millennia already?"

"You remember what that means."

"Of course I remember what that means." She stood from her chaise, strutting towards the balcony. "Some creature from the surface will soon discover the true extent of some pure light crap that resides in them."

He nodded. "So you have been thinking about it."

She glared around the landscape before her, frowning intently. "Subjects have been caught digging at the walls, trying to escape. That's unacceptable. But that surface creature's power might get rid of all that. Perhaps that power could fortify my walls. No one leaves my realm without my permission. I'd hate to think that I'm getting lazy with that message." She turned towards her henchman. "I'll have to begin hunting this creature down, very soon."

But how and where would the empress begin her search? Unexplained events saturated the globe, whether real or imaginary, supported by all manner of believers. In a world where the supernatural and the natural intersected, mixed, fused, it was almost impossible to tell what was real and what was not, what was science and what was merely a slight of hand...

But Las Vegas, a city in the middle of a dry, scorching desert, thrived on deception, of blending the imaginary with what could be perceived as real. Hoards of visitors, in superficial t-shirts and selfie sticks, lined the base of buildings shaped like fairytale castles, enchanted Egyptian pyramids, Coney Island, or the streets of Paris or Venise, these clogged sidewalks weaving through foliage that could never survive naturally in the dry Sierra heat. Cops on bicycles weaved through the heavy foot traffic while immigrant men passed out flyers advertising nearby, discreet brothels. Even during the day, the city seemed to sparkle in all its artificial glory and promise of wonder, the tinseled manifestation of magic.

Even this gem had its grit, a ring around the heart of the city lined with pawn shops, payday loan banks, adult video stores, and used car dealerships. These buildings, remnants of 70s glitz, did not shine, people did not clog these sidewalks, and fancy palm trees did not grow here.

Within one of these pawn shops, a slender man, no more than 30 years old, leaned over the scratched glass counter as the pawn shop owner examined a Zippo lighter. The younger man threaded a hand through bedraggled dark hair, a shoulder-length, oily mess that he had not the time for, before idly scratching at the stubble of a beard growing along a sharp jawline. "So, how much?"

The pawn shop owner glanced up to study the anxious customer--the younger man had darker skin, like one of those yuppy mochas from Starbucks, but bright blue eyes that made this older, proudly conservative man uncomfortable. Was the younger man a crack addict pawning what he could find for money? He certainly smelled like he hadn't showered for a few days, wearing a ratty, dark t-shirt to boot, but he was too much of a pretty boy to be on crack long-- his skin was still smooth. And he lacked the disjointed jitters that a drugged-up crazy carried.

The shop owner grunted. "Five bucks."

"Five..." The younger man gaped, his expression a mix of outrage and surprise. "It was a gift from when I was discharged from duty. It came all the way from Afghanistan with me. It is at least twenty. Look here, there's an inscription that says--"

"Five bucks." The owner set his jaw and glared.

The younger man mirrored his glare but was no match for the shop owner's decades of experience putting his foot down against multi-racial lowlifes like this punk.

The younger man snatched his lighter. "Fucking rip-off," he snarled as he shoved the lighter in his dirty jeans pocket and headed for the door. "I can get fifty bucks at the place across the street."

"Good luck with that," the shop owner scoffed.

The younger man--Alexander Valencia--ignored him, storming out of the store and into the glaring midday heat. Blinded by the sun and his anger, he began to cross the street to the next pawn shop, seeing no oncoming traffic in his peripheral vision.

A taxi screeched around the corner. Moving too fast for car or pedestrian to react, the taxi slammed against Alexander head-on, denting the hood of the car. Alexander tumbled clear over the vehicle as it screeched to a halt, smashing the windshield and damaging the taxi sign as he did.

A strange, tingling warmth enveloped Alexander as the vision of sky and concrete tumbled before him. For a moment, his vision blurred, the warmth bringing him back to Afghanistan, in a similar desert heat, bullets whizzing around him, bodies falling, blood splattering like confetti poppers...

He hit the concrete with an audible crack. The sharp pain pulled Alexander back to the present. Rolling to a stop on his side, he glanced at the source of the pain--bone protruded from his arm. He gasped and let out another wail of agonizing pain before struggling to his feet. His left foot wobbled uselessly, that broken ankle unable to support his weight, and he returned to the ground in a heap. The concrete was wet, and he realized that it was slick with his blood.

The taxi driver finally stepped out, pale-faced and gawking in shock. "Jesus, are you alright?"

"My arm is broken!" Alexander gasped even as the pain ebbed away, "and my ankle. My head..."

The taxi driver knelt down beside him. "Where is your arm broken?"

Alexander pointed to the grotesqueness of bone through flesh... except it wasn't there. His arm was whole, unscratched. He blinked, then checked his other arm. Dirty, but undamaged. "I-I swore...there was bone... it's broken!" He flexed both arms, a startlingly painless gesture.

The taxi driver rose to his feet, glowering. "You stepped onto the street on purpose," he snapped, "faking an accident, trying to sue me for my hard-earned money!"

Alexander lifted his head to stare like the man had gone mad. "You fucking hit me!" He rose to a sitting position, sliding both hands through his hair to check his head for injuries. None. Slowly, he rose to his feet, both ankles supporting his weight just fine. But just a moment before... He glanced at the streak of blood on the ground, his blood, but where did it come from? He checked himself for injury, clearly remembering the broken arm, growing more panicked and confused.

"Look at my car!" the taxi driver screamed. "You con artists know how to stand just right so that you roll off the car without getting hurt, and then pretend that you are! I'm not falling for it!"

A few people emerged from nearby buildings to stare, but this block was a ghost town compared to downtown Las Vegas--there were few witnesses, and even fewer who cared.

"I swear I didn't," Alexander murmured. The taxi driver's screaming hollowed, then thinned as Alexander remembered a different type of screaming that surrounded him. All those bullets...it had been an ambush, years ago in Afghanistan...dust all around...bullets going through him, piercing his armor... The doctors had said he was lucky, but there had been so many...

Alexander stumbled off the street and onto the sidewalk in a daze, the taxi driver still screaming at him. He ignored it entirely, his mind resetting to the broken arm he was sure he had just a moment ago. He could not make up that pain. Just like Afghanistan....

"Summon the sorcerer," she ordered her henchman. He bowed and turned for the great door. As he strode off towards the exit, she headed deeper into the recesses of the room. She pulled a dark, feathered cloak off a claw in the wall and draped it around her pale shoulders. She spared another glance out her balcony, looking out over the lands even her eyes could not see fully. This light on the surface, she'd captured it time and time again, but this light could prove vital. Her domain had become more restless than she'd ever seen it. The clamoring at the outskirts of her realm hadn't been adequately silenced. Not even her captain of the guard had managed to completely squelch the billions of souls. If needed, she would soon travel to the outskirts and put them down herself.

She began to follow where her servant had gone moments before, walking down the cavernous corridors, her footsteps echoing off the walls, past guard after guard bowed, until she entered the great hall. Obsidian pillars and red glass chandeliers loomed over her head. At the far end of the great hall, a single throne stood, made of rock laced with red opal, seemingly evaporating as the stones drifted up, further and further away.

Two figures approached her from the shadows of the pillars - her servant, striding in, carrying a chest, and a figure bent over, hobbling behind, shrouded in a robe.

"My empress," he rasped, in a voice mostly lost to time and wear.

"Gamigin." She came to a stop in the center of the room. " The end of one thousand years approaches. A being hosting a power of pure light will soon appear on the surface." Her servant laid the chest on the ground before her as she spoke, opening it to uncover a scratched, misshapen crystal orb. "You shall locate it for me, as you have so many times before."

"It would be my honor, my liege," the sorcerer croaked, drawing his hood back from an old, graying, eyeless face and kneeling at the chest.

She watched hungrily as he dragged his old, decrepit hands over the crystal, summoning a glow from deep within it. The sorcerer grunted and groaned, prying at the crystal, and it began to glow fiercer and twist around in its setting with a scrape. It spun faster and faster. It began to spark. Sparks fell to the floor, but they didn't singe anything in their paths.

At his gestured command, the orb came to a complete stop. Gamigin gazed into it, searching. "I feel the light... coming strong here, stronger than anywhere else on the surface. I see... someplace warm... somewhere bright from the sun.... where structures climb towards the sky... such odd structures… there are beings everywhere... I've never seen so many... I cannot see it... I cannot locate the celestial light among them…"

She narrowed her eyes. Too many beings to find the light? Unheard of. Why would so many gather in one place? Unless they had found the light already. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. No, they couldn't have found it already. That was completely unacceptable. "Never mind how many there are. I will know it when I find it. I will find it." She'd just have to be faster than ever. Though the uncertainty aggravated her, it would likely be of little consequence. Even if the location was unusual, there was nothing up there that could impede her search or acquisition. What? Would the surface creatures really have the means to prevent her from taking the light?

She whipped around to glare at her crack-faced servant. "Ronove. Bring my wings to me. I want to leave for the surface at once. I will find this light and bring it where it rightfully belongs."

"Of course, my empress."

Minutes later, the first tremor shook the sands.

The first tremor was but a slight rumble, enough to break Alexander out of his trance, but only just. He looked around even as the long-ago sound of gunfire still echoed in his mind. Vaguely, he knew he had to get home, take some pills, try to sleep, wait out this spell in which he could not separate past from present, memory from reality.

Still, he could not shake the white-hot, darting pain of bullets tearing through his vital organs--the doctors had said his survival and complete recovery had been nothing but a miracle--or the mind-numbing agony of his recently broken arm. He must have just imagined that. It had to have been the PTSD.

Alexander began a brisk walk, shoving his hands in his pockets, bowing his head. The bus station wasn't far; he could feel a few quarters warming against his fingertips.

The next tremor nearly shook Alexander off balance--he instinctively reached for a wall to balance himself. He could hear a few screams of surprise, punctuated by the call of car alarms along the street.

Another earthquake? It wasn't uncommon for Vegas to occasionally feel the weak aftershock of an earthquake in California, but to feel something this bold so soon after the initial tremor was strange. Was this the source of an earthquake instead of the aftershock?

The third tremor dislodged a streetlamp. It crashed over the street, glass shattering over concrete. Buildings swayed but did not collapse. People began stumbling from their homes, not wanting to be inside a building that could collapse.

What was going on?

The same warming sensation that had enveloped Alexander during the car accident did so again. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself away from the wall. He began walk at a faster pace, almost a run, in an exceedingly more desperate attempt to get home as quickly as possible.

These tremors weren't like those of a Californian earthquake. Tectonic plates weren't sliding. Here, the ground was being split apart from under. Another street lamp fell over in the middle of the street, a mere block behind Alexander, where the asphalt was beginning to crack. With each rumble, the cracks in the ground shunted out further, like how an ice-covered lake breaks. Seconds later, a massive, inhuman groan pierced the air and a geyser of water exploded from the ground. The jet from the precious water main towered above the low buildings lining the street, and as it fell back to earth, it erupted into a fountain of steam.

The people crowding the street were congregating, confused, everyone asking each other what was going on, some waving iPhones everywhere, some panicked. Las Vegas didn't get earthquakes like this. And the steam billowing forth shouldn't have been there. And there shouldn't be anything moving inside the cloud of steam.

At first, she couldn't see anything. Water from the burst pipes didn't even reach her skin - it evaporated before it could make contact with her and blocked her sight. She could hear though. She could hear the panic of the surface inhabitants around her and loud, irritating, mechanical beeping. She could also smell. When she took her first inhale of the surface air, she knew she was in the right place. The light had a scent and a taste. It was sharp and clear and clean on her tongue. Gamigin's difficulty locating the bearer had concerned her, but he hadn't failed her yet. She stepped forward through the mist to follow the scent and observe the surface she had stepped onto.

If the crowd on the street had been confused and panicked before, they were also awed now as well. The empress stepped into their view, to the shock and awe of the eyes on her. For a brief moment, the empress was… startled. The surface world had changed more than ever. There was the cloudless blue sky overhead, the tops of buildings the likes of which she had never seen, and the unexpectedly hot air hitting her face. The surface world had changed more on one thousand years than she would have imagined. But she pushed the curiosity away. She had a mission.

She stared into the crowd around her, the crowd clamoring that some white-skinned humanoid with metallic bundles on their back had stepped out of the geyser. The light wasn't around her. None of these creatures had it. So she had no use for them.

But it was still close. She ignored the other creatures, striding down the center of the road, following the clear taste in her mouth and nose. If they chose to get in her way… well, that was their problem, not hers.

The final tremor was enough to knock Alexander clear off his feet. He landed on the ground hard, scraping his chin and the heel of his hands in his poor attempt to break his fall. He would have felt embarrassed--only children scraped themselves falling like this, right?--if not for the strangeness of it all. This place did not get earthquakes of this degree.

As he returned to his feet, he glanced behind him to see water rising from the ground like a geyser, steam beginning to gather at the base, and people swarming together like ants to sugar with their smartphones at the ready. It was just a broken water pipe. People would record damn near anything these days if it'll earn them a viral video on YouTube. How many poor-resolution shaky videos of a cracked road at Las Vegas would pop up on the Internet in the next hour?

Alexander didn't have a smartphone. He couldn't afford one.

He did not stay long enough to try to figure out what was so special about a broken water main, even with the steam. He kept walking, hoping to not fall on the next tremor, if it ever happened, his vivid memories eating at the back of his mind.

As Alexander walked, he began to suspect that his bus would not show up. Deep cracks marred the roads, some of the older buildings suffered minor damage, and people hustled down the streets in a panic. So he pressed on past the bus stop, dreading the several-mile trek across town to his tiny studio apartment.

Natural disaster did not discriminate. After several blocks, pruned shrubs began to line cleaned sidewalks, more palm trees, and the newer buildings of a nicer neighborhood, but the cracks on the road were just as deep, and the people stumbling out of the surrounding buildings seemed just as startled. As with everything else, Alexander ignored them all. If he stared too long, the gunshots in his mind would get louder, and the pain he remembered from nonexistent wounds would grow more intense.

The devastation was hard to ignore.

Fearing that he would not make the walk home in this condition, Alexander ducked into the nearest business that still had open doors. It was probably a foolish move--why would he risk getting crushed by a collapsing building?--but he needed to get away from the scene outside and catch his breath.

He found himself in a little convenience store, every item imaginable somehow crammed into a few short rows of shelves. The store manager was the only other person in the store, cursing loudly as he struggled to clean up a collapsed freezer full of broken beer bottles, the smell of booze evident all the way across the room.

Alexander ignored that section, instead grabbing a magazine and opening it. The pictures and words blurred on the page; he didn't even know what type of magazine he was looking at. He closed his eyes and could see nothing but desert mountains dotted with sage, the water-parched earth stained with blood, the metallic-sweet scent of death heavy in the air. Alexander opened his eyes and forced himself to keep his breathing even, keep his eyes on the page, and focus on the words. Martha Stewart smiled presumptuously from the page, holding some sort of casserole. Letters on the page spelled out a recipe. Fuck, this wasn't working.

The empress might have been ignoring the worthless creatures around her, but needless to say, they were not ignoring her. They surrounded her. The hot steam rising from her skin kept them a few feet at bay, but they were just everywhere, pushing, shouting at her. It was annoying. She curled her lip in an irritated snarl, only to provoke more shrieks - her teeth were inhumanly misshaped and jagged. If they weren't going to get out of her way, she'd simply make them.

She rolled her shoulders back, pinching the metallic bundle hanging off her back between her shoulder blades. The bundles groaned and exploded outwards, throwing off any humans standing to either side of her and the force of which shattering the windows on both sides of the streets. On her back now rested a pair of mechanical wings, splintery fibers of iron holding together panes of yellowed glass.

Finally the creatures around her scrambled. She was no longer a mere curiosity, she was a threat. That was how she preferred it. With the damned creatures away from her, she could follow the trail. She stepped over a crack in the asphalt, and with a screeching of the metal on her, she lifted into the air, leaving footprints of melted tar where she just stood. The motion wasn't graceful. The wings were heavy and jerky, dropping her slightly with each flap. But it was just the aerial view she needed.

The sharp, clear scent was still around her. It hadn't fled, not completely anyway. The empress licked her lips. Still close by. The mist behind her hadn't impeded it, so it had to be forward. She flew forward, continually ignoring the panic on the ground. She should have been an angel. But to the average human, angels didn't have jagged teeth and splintery wings.

All of a sudden something gave her pause. The clear scent of the light became muddled. It was still there, but there was a faint smell of something warm, bitter, yeasty. Curious. The empress turned her attention to the sides of the road now below her. If the bearer was anywhere nearby, it wasn't out on the street. Perhaps the buildings needed a more thorough investigation.

She flew further, and as the smell of the light got stronger, oddly enough, so did that faint bitter smell. But in seconds, she could detect the scent was weaker. It was right there, at that peak of strength. With a twist of her body, the wings retracted in a snap, and she plummeted to the ground right next to the convenience store, breaking the asphalt deep into the dirt that lay below.

She rose from her knees to her feet without so much as a scratch and turned her attention to the shop beside her. It was definitely in here. In such a small space, there wouldn't be much room for the bearer to run. How kind of them to box themselves in for her convenience.

The empress walked towards the doors. Her feet still melted the ground she walked on, melted the asphalt, the concrete of the sidewalk, and, standing in the doorway, the metal embedded in the entrance began to glow orange.

"I'm looking for something," she purred. She spoke casually, too casually. Like this was all mere amusement to her.

When the empress landed in front of the convenience store, the lone window at the front and the glass door shattered. Shelves knocked back like dominoes, their contents creating a mess of foodstuffs on the floor. The shop owner and Alexander were knocked back as well, the store owner stumbling against the freezer doors and Alexander staggering back against the magazine shelf.

"Jesus Christ!" the store owner barked once he was on his feet. "We need to get the fuck out of here before this whole building crashes down on us!" He motioned urgently for Alexander to follow as he abandoned his work and headed towards the door.

He stopped dead in his tracks. It was not the red-hot door frame or the shallow crater on the sidewalk in front of his store that had his attention, though such details certainly contributed to the effect. What rendered him speechless was the woman blocking his way, if one would call her that. His first impression was more circus freak--the metal-framed glass wings seemed a bit overkill for such a costume, and those fake pointed teeth weren't doing her any favors. Fucking cos-players.

"Lady, get out of the way!" he snapped, ignoring her statement. "Can't you see this whole place is falling apart?" He could not fathom that this woman was the cause of the melting door frame or the wreckage to his store, so he didn't. Somehow, the earthquake contributed to those things. The store owner glanced over his shoulder at Alexander and motioned for the young man to follow. "Hurry up, you idiot!"

But Alexander could not move. Like the store owner, the image of this strange creature at the doorway caught him off guard. Somehow, though, he knew that her appearance was not only authentic, but real, and that she had caused all of this. He couldn't explain how he knew; it was a ridiculous thought, impossible! But he did.

He gasped, cried out, and doubled over, instantly in pain. The nagging warmth he had felt throughout his body had suddenly become a nearly unbearable heat, as though someone had cranked up the core temperature of his body like an oven. His vision blurred from the pain as he dropped to his knees as he gasped from the shocking suddenness of it all. He could not explain what was happening to him or why, but somehow he knew one thing with utmost certainty: he had to get away from this woman.

Apparently this human wasn't in the mood for messing around. That was fair enough. The empress frowned. Fine. She'd get right to the point. The smell was almost overbearing. It was there for certain. And there were only two of the creatures in that little building, yes? She could make very quick work of this.

While this first creature was screaming in her face about the building - she should have taken offense to that, but he wasn't even worth the energy and attention it would take to be offended - she began her foolproof investigation. As he was trying to insist she move out of the way, while he was yelling at the other creature to get moving, the empress reached out and grabbed his wrist. The heat of her skin seared through his flesh in an instant. As he screeched in pain, all she did was watch. His skin wasn't regenerating. It had gone stiff and brown.

"Not you," she muttered, dropping his wrist. Now, suddenly the other human in the building was of more interest to her. The other human, with dark skin and darker hair, doubled over on the ground, screaming, had to be the bearer. Leaving the first human to deal with his now barely-functioning arm as he saw fit, the empress stepped over the boxes and bags and cans littering the floor over to the other human. "You must be what I'm looking for," she said, reaching out to grab his wrist. She had to be sure, after all.

The woman's voice seemed distant to Alexander, almost like an echo, but he knew she was close. He could feel her footsteps, the heat of his body intensifying as she drew near. His pain was crippling now; he could not avoid her. Despite this, he still had the mind--just barely--to fight, however futile that was.

He wished he had a gun. His recovery after the war had been so difficult that he hadn't trusted himself with carrying one. Now, all he wanted was the reassurance of being able to pump this bitch full of bullets.

Why was he so afraid of her? She hadn't done anything to him yet. He hadn't seen her destroy the store as it happened. But he could hear the screams of the store owner and knew that she had done something to the man. This woman was dangerous.

He grabbed a can of soup that had rolled beside him in the destruction and threw it as best he could at the woman's head. Such pain, however, gave him horrendous aim--the can sailed cleanly past her with inches to spare--and she was practically at point-blank range. He cursed and scooted back, but his body was so insufferably slow...

Her hand clamped around his wrist, and Alexander's world changed. Her grip was like ice, simultaneously chasing away his pain. The world around him froze in place, dribbling puddles of liquid on the shelves pausing in mid-drip, the shop owner's body and face locked into agony as he clutched a completely charred arm. The colors around Alexander had faded, too, as though the world were compelled to more closely match the pallet of this woman's appearance.

Slowly, Alexander rose to his feet. The skin where this woman gripped him glowed a bright, burning red, though all he felt was a sharp chill, like wrapping his wrist in ice, uncomfortable instead of painful. He wasn't sure if he should be frightened or intrigued.

The woman's outward appearance certainly did not make her seem approachable. She was meant to instill fear, to be menacing, this he could gather. Yet he could not overlook the beauty beyond the leather, the wings, the sharp teeth, and what she was trying to do to his arm. In typical ignorant male fashion, he wondered how someone such as her could be mixed up in...whatever menacing strangeness this all was.

The world seemed to take a breath, time resuming in a rush of color and sound, reminding Alexander that he was in danger and that he ought to be fearful above all else. He wrenched his arm free, the arm completely unharmed. Already pressed against the magazine display shelf, he stepped to the side, keeping his gaze on her while his hands blindly and frantically searched for something to defend himself with.

What was her bearer this time around? The empress watched the human on the ground as she got closer. He was moving slowly with pain. Brown skin, dark hair, scraggly clothing, scared out of its mind. Thoroughly unremarkable. Then again, she was difficult to impress.

He did manage to grab a can from the floor and throw it at her. She barely blinked as it whizzed past her head. Fighting back could have been a cause for concern, but that too, in her experience, was unremarkable. They all resisted when she found them. It was understandable, really, even with her general disregard for the surface creatures. But his resistance was nothing. It didn't slow her in the slightest from leaning down and grabbing his wrist from the panicking thing.

To a regular creature, like the one she'd touched a moment before, her skin would have seared them to the bone. But as she stared at its wrist, it did exactly what she'd hoped for it to do. For a moment, the skin would burn red, just like the other before it went completely brown. But as she watched this one, the skin didn't char. It remained red, the heat from her skin burning and the other's skin regenerating itself in the same instant. Despite herself, the regeneration she saw in the bearers never failed to fascinate her. "Perfect," she murmured to herself.

The creature she was grabbing slowly rose to his feet. She hadn't watched his face, gave him no regard until he was on his feet. Only then did she look at his face. He had this look of awe about him, one she usually didn't count as unusual. Something was different, however. Awe was one thing, but wonder was something a little different. She gave it little mind, though, at least for now. He was the bearer she'd been looking for. The empress smiled, feeling satisfied. She could return to her kingdom now, from a short, efficient visit.

Now that little chore was done. Her grip loosened slightly and he snapped out of his staring, pulling away, stumbling back, feeling around all the shelves still standing around them. Unless the shelves had some sort of very powerful talisman, he was out of luck. It certainly didn't seem like it knew of the only likely way to save himself. She'd already dismissed the possibility in her mind. It wouldn't happen. Instead of worrying about it, she glanced around the small box they were in, over the shelves and the creature with the burned limb, and the broken door. Looking back at the bearer, she took a few purposeful steps over a downed shelf, right between him and the doorway. From here she stepped towards him, reaching for both arms, intent on restraining him for good this time.

Alexander cursed under his breath as this woman reached for him and stumbled further to the side, avoiding her. No longer in crippling pain, he darted around the corner, moving briskly along the wall. He stopped only when he spied a metal pipe on the floor, probably part of what kept the shelving together, and turned to face the woman, gripping the 'weapon' in both hands like a batter up to plate. For a second, he hesitated. Was he really defending himself with a damn piece of metal against a woman? He had never hit a girl, and now he intended to club one like a damn pinata. This situation was entirely ridiculous.

Then he heard sirens in the distance and the sound of something plastic clattering to the ground. He glanced to his right and spied the store owner hunched over a dropped smartphone. Somehow, through his pain and his useless arm, the man had managed to pull out his smartphone and dial 9-1-1. That woman had mangled his arm and tried to do the same to Alexander. She had destroyed this place. She wasn't right in the head. Perhaps he wouldn't actually hit her, but Alexander damn sure wasn't about to face her completely unarmed, and he wasn't about to run away to leave the injured shop owner to this crazy bitch's devices. He looked at her again and gripped the pipe tightly, more confident in his decision to raise it against her. Besides, the police would be here within moments. Let them handle her with their guns and their batons and their tasers and their bullet-proof vests.

"What the fuck are you after?" Alexander barked, being sure to step back if she stepped forward, careful to maintain his distance. "I've got nothin'! I did nothing! Why are you after me?"

The bearer got his hands around some piece of metal and the empress cracked a small, amused smile. Of course it was going to try to defend itself, they all did, but it never failed to amuse. They always had some sort of misguided hope that they could hurt her. Poor creatures, they didn't know any better. Perhaps she could spare just a moment or two longer than absolutely needed. She only came to the surface every one thousand years after all. Another few moments wouldn't be catastrophic.

She turned her head to the side slightly, hearing something new outside. Something was wailing. It wasn't organic, but she didn't know anything more about it. She turned her attention back to the bearer almost immediately. He was mortified. Fear was radiating off him. And he spoke. Shouted desperately, more like.

The slight smile she'd had on her face a moment ago burst into a wolflike grin. Was he so foolish to have no idea at all? "Look at your arm, bearer. Is that something all of your kind can do?" The other creature behind her with one less appendage suggested otherwise.

"Are you going to hit me?" she asked him in a honeyed voice, almost casually, stepping forward. "If you wish to hit me, do it. Go ahead. See where it gets you." She turned her face to the side, brushing strands of white hair out of the way of her cheek. "Hurt me, if you can," she purred, in a way that only a person absolutely sure they would not be hurt would say.

The sirens were getting closer. Red and blue light was beginning to play on the fragments of glass on the floor.

Alexander paused, frozen by the contradiction between the woman's honeyed voice and her invitation to violence. He could see it now: he would hit hurt, she'd form a bruise that could be seen clear across town, she'd scream assault, he'd find his ass in jail in no time. What kind of a woman insisted on getting the shit beat out of her without some sort of setup?

With a grim expression, Alexander slowly lowered the pipe, though every last scrap of instinct screamed at him to keep his guard up. As such, he at least did not loosen his grip on his weapon.

"Lady, I don't know what you did," he began slowly, unable to shake the fear from his voice, "how you did it, or why, and it looks like you're not gonna answer, so I'm just gonna walk away, alright?" He made a brief gesture towards the door with a jerk of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. "Walk away, take that poor man with me, and you are just gonna turn around and go right back to wherever the hell you came from. Alright?" He swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

Her taunting smile rapidly melted into a scowl as he oh so bravely lowered the metal pipe he had been clutching for dear life. She turned her cheek away from him. If this creature wasn't going to be any fun, then she was simply wasting her time, staying on this land.

Not only was he being boring, he wasn't taking her seriously at all. He was referring to her as 'lady' and telling her to go back where she came from. Was he trying to tell her what to do? The empress narrowed her eyes. This fool was making things worse for himself. If he wasn't going to take her seriously, she'd simply have to make him take her seriously.

Screeching from outside the store blared in her ears. There was some sort of commotion going on, slamming and shouting. Why had more surface creatures come here? Did they not begin to flee earlier? The wounds in the earth were still fresh. They were fools to come. She didn't need their interference. It was time to get her business done, if she had no reason to stick around and amuse herself with her new bearer.

She waved her hand to the side, and the small store lit up. The door and window disappeared behind a wall of blue flames spouting up from the floor, seemingly from nowhere. She glared daggers at the bearer on the floor. She was no surface creature 'lady'.

"I will go back to where I came from only when I drag you with me."

At first, the police and paramedics had thought the building had exploded with the sudden appearance of blue flame lining the inside of the building. Everyone jumped back, including the shop owner who half-stumbled away. Screams punctured the steady call of sirens.

However, no knock back followed the explosion. No force of energy cracked more walls, shattered more windows, or knocked anyone off their feet. It was as though someone switched on a rather large gas fireplace, utterly uneventful except that these pillars of flame were huge, lining the inside perimeter of the building.

Alexander also startled, not any more prepared for the sudden supernatural event than anyone outside. There was no denying that this woman somehow summoned these flames; that wave of her hand was no coincidence. With new resolve, he tightened his grip on the metal bar, doing his best to appear angry and fearless. Fuck chivalry, he should have hit her after all. With all of the things she had done already, how could he have not defended himself more properly sooner? As he backed away, he inwardly chided himself for his foolishness.

Then she made the comment that chilled his blood. He froze dead in his tracks, sweat beading on his skin, as he realized that this woman, this creature had come exclusively for him.

"I'm just a man," he said, and paused to swallow, not liking how shaky his voice had become. A little voice in his head reminded him that this wasn't true, not entirely, though he didn't know what he really was or what was going on. He pushed his ignorance forward. "I'm broke, I'm broken, I'm nothing. Fuck, of all the people in Vegas you could have picked, any one of them would be a better choice than me."

He inched towards the flames as he spoke, unable to feel their heat. Stepping backwards over debris slowed his progress.

Questions hung at the tip of his tongue. Where did she come from? Why did she choose him? What did she want him for? These were questions he was not yet prepared to ask, afraid that they would all lead to only one conclusion: he was going to die.

He was about to face the consequences of not being interesting to her. He really was. The empress was prepared to take him back to the underground with her with little care about answering any of his questions. What value was it to her to answer his questions anyway? That would have been completely on him, not making it worth her time. Even him raising his cute little metal bar didn't make him much more interesting.

But he did say something that interested her, at last. Good for him, he needed it. He was terrified of her now, rightfully so, and he was calling himself broke, broken, nothing.

The empress's eyes softened, if it could really be called softening. Something was earnest, less malicious. She stepped closer to him, as he stepped back, closing the distance between them, as much as he wouldn't like that. She didn't snarl at him this time. Her voice was gentler now, starkly and oddly honest. "If you are broken and nothing, what do you have to lose, if you were to come with me?"

Merely caring enough to ask was a gift. Soon, hopefully, he would realize. She did need him, but he was worth exactly the same to her as a willing captive or a tortured prisoner. She'd do whatever he lead her to do. If only he knew exactly how much his future was in his own hands.

Alexander paused. Was that compassion in her voice? Pity in her eyes? The way she looked at him made him almost believe that she was a reasonable woman capable of feelings. It was enough for him to almost forget the strange wings she carried, her strange attire, the destruction of this place, the things she had done... almost.

He realized that he knew nothing about this person. Well, except that she was completely insane and not quite human, if at all.

She had a point, though. What did he have to lose? He had no family that he knew of, in and out of foster care most of his life. Having friends was difficult when you didn't have money. He had no steady job, no great place to come home to... really, what difference did it make if he hung around this crazy bitch for a while?

"Well, for starters," he began carefully, "you nearly seared that man's arm off. You've trapped me in this thrashed place with hellfire or something, threatening to take me against my will. I don't even know where we're going. I don't know why you're targeting me of all people. I may not have nothing to lose, but I don't want to end up like that man you maimed, or worse. So tell me, what do you plan to do?" If anything else, perhaps agreeing to her demands for a little while would calm everyone else down and give him a chance to escape later or get her some help. As it was right now, no one was going anywhere without at least one person getting hurt.

Just a few moments ago, she had considered the bearer boring. Unremarkable. Not worth much more consideration than any other creature she encountered while up here, only consideration for his power. That was a few moments ago. Now, however, he'd done something truly worthy of her attention. He surprised her. He surprised her by... almost considering coming with her. Almost. That's what it sounded like to her. She had a rare opportunity. She could actually convince a bearer to come with her, rather than throwing them down a sinkhole, as was basically the custom. The question now was whether she had the patience for diplomatic tactics.

His grievances against here were fair concerns for him, if not still beneath her care. What did she plan to do, he asked? She stared down at him with otherworldly eyes, deciding how honest she could afford to be.

"The only thing that is certain is that I will not leave this surface world without you." Again, her voice had that odd, honest, almost hypnotic quality. "You have a power in your blood that I need. A power no other creature on this surface has. It is that power that saved your arm." She glanced to the side momentarily. The creature somewhere outside the ring of flames didn't have that power, and now he didn't have that arm either. She looked back to him. "If you fight me, I will hurt you. If you come willingly, you will be treated well. Your treatment is in your hands."

Hopefully that would be enough information. If not, well, that was too bad for him. She had already been very courteous, too courteous. "I've already been far more generous with you than I need be. My patience is finite," she muttered, another honest declaration, with a barely veiled threat. It would do him well to consider, if this was her showing patience, what the consequences of impatience would be.

If this woman wasn't so crazy, Alexander may have found her statement intriguing. Her comment about his arm struck a chord with him because as far fetched as it sounded, what happened was true, had been true for a while. He should have been in as much pain as the store owner. He should not have been able to walk away from that car accident from earlier in the day. He should have not survived that ambush in Afghanistan. Alexander suspected that there was more to him than he could dare to understand, which was part of what made it so difficult for him to cope with his recent past.

Her comment also made every hair on the back of Alexander's neck stand on end. She needed the power in his blood? Instantly, he imagined being drugged and chained up in some isolated warehouse, bleeding out like cattle in a slaughterhouse while this crazy woman collected it all for whatever strange cult shit she was into. Did she think she could gain his ability for her own?

"I'd come with you if it would shut you up, calm you down, and resolve this mess," Alexander said, almost afraid to look into her eyes--afraid of what he would find following his answer--but he needed to be clear with her. "You clearly need help, and if going with you is the fastest way for you to get that help then I'd do it. However, I really don't want to be chopped up in little pieces or bled out like a blood bag or who-knows-what-else you have in store for me because of my supposed power. This other place you keep talking about--it's probably a damn warehouse in the middle of nowhere."

Alexander began to move more boldly towards the flames. "I may not have much to lose, but the odd way you almost answered my questions puts up too many red flags. So, I'm just gonna step away here..." He stuck an arm through the flames, not surprised that they bent harmlessly around his arm like water around a rock. He prepared to step through the barrier, not wanting to simply run out in case there were cops with guns on the other side.