Clara had no desire to dwell on what might have happened had she stayed in that mining town. There was nothing for her there, and she was certain that her life would have been wasted. The candle which burns twice as bright.

“That’s the sad part,” Julia said.

One had no choice but to play the hand they were dealt with. As long as you leave the world a better state.

They took another turn and this time they faced three large stone arched entrances. It made no difference which one she picked as all three led into the library. All to divide and conquer.

Clara was not entirely certain that the ability to drive acolytes’ crazy was not a feature rather than a bug. She knew of several students who ended up hopelessly lost, left to cry in some forgotten part of this place.

“Besides,” Clara said. “I wouldn’t have made it without being able to navigate these halls.”

There was a pause, Julia’s jaw muscles pulsated as though attempting to chew on the gristle of the idea.

“You had a fucked up childhood,” Julia said.

“…It could have been worse…”

“How the fuck do you know where we are?” Julia asked as they took another turn down yet another nondescript passageway.

“I’ve been down these halls thousands of times,” Clara replied.

While the Terminus was designed to confound those who entered. The Tower was a lesson in security through obfuscation.

No floor was designed to be straight forward or obvious. This served several purposes, the first of which was to deter any incursion. Like fighting a war in a maze.

“I hope that’s not what I think it is?” Julia asked.

“I’m afraid it is,” Clara answered, before clenching her jaw.

“What—(for?)”

That was a good question, but it also explained why so few lived beyond The Tower.

“The iron gauntlet of a tyrannical leader…” Clara answered.

That was a sobering thought. However, Julia quickly realised there was something more to it than scaring the population into complacency.

“And?” Julia asked in a whisper.

“Population control…”

They then lit a fire under the belly and let the heat build-up inside. It was said that the grim deed was done once steam came out through the snout.

If that was not disturbing enough, the distinctive scent of wood smoke lingered still in the air. A definitive sign that it’s been used recently.

“I hope that’s not what I think it is?” Julia asked.

“I’m afraid it is,” Clara answered, before clenching her jaw.

“Awww,” Clara teased.

Clara stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed something. Her movements became slow and deliberate with her head aligning itself with the object of interest. It was made of iron, and resembled an elephant. The artistry put into this creature was exquisite, but it was the purpose that bothered her.

The black scorch marks along the beast’s belly were a clue as was the hatch in the rear. They would lock someone inside like a cell. That doesn’t end there.

“Pardon me,” Clara said. “It must have been the angelic equivalent of a burp.”

They both knew it was not, but also realised there were risks to Clara being too specific. Hunters may welcome an angel, but not one who was effectively a goddess vessel.

“If it’s any consolation,” Julia said. “I thank God every day that you’re the exception to the rule.”

Had Clara been wired correctly, she would have killed every werewolf that night, and promptly freed Evelyn of her head. Abominations to a hunter had to be put down, and ultimately, a few ended up being powerful allies.

“Awww,” Clara teased.

“Really?” Clara said, her voice booming out like thunder.

That was an interesting development. Angels did not possess the wrathful god voice. Does that mean Hecate is back?

The angel tried to channel a bit of power to make her eyes come aglow, but nothing happened. She hid her disappointment, but her eyes widened after spotting the look of shock on Julia’s face.

“What they literal fuck was that?” Julia said.

“Meaning?” Clara asked.

“Shit—Sorry.”

Clara’s choice to play on her own ignorance was a subtle reminder that the werewolf was outing herself. That might have changed the tone of their celebrations.

“You weren’t wired right,” Julia said after rolling her tongue three times in her mouth.

“Really?” Clara said, her voice booming out like thunder.

That was an interesting development. Angels did not possess the wrathful god voice. Does that mean Hecate is back?

The next booth served as a grim reminder of the Roman Empire’s darker side. Shackles, locks and other accessories for the affluent slave owner. How did I forget about these?

“Then I’m a fucking direct descendant of Lupa,” Julia said.

The young woman once again managed to surprise Clara. If there was ever a woman needing their mouth washed out with soap, it was her. Yet she knows about Romulus, Remus and the wolf who nursed them until they were discovered.