Malacai walked inside the Temple of the Gods that was located at the heart of the Ares Empire.
Behind him, several guards, and priestesses, lay on the ground, asleep. The Dracolich didn't harm them in any way, and merely put all of them to sleep.
When he reached the depths of the shrine, he waved his hand and the water around the statue of the Goddess rose to the air, and took on a crimson hue.
Soon, the statue glowed, and a sigh escaped its lips.
"Malacai, old friend, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Astarte, the Goddess of the Amazon Race, asked with a smile.
"Pleasure? I didn't visit you for pleasure," Malacai answered as he approached the Goddess who was looking at him with a playful gaze. "I came here to ask you if your warriors are prepared for what is about to happen."
Astarte chuckled as she walked in circles around Malacai. "For thousands of years, my warriors' strength has grown stronger with every generation. They've adhered to the laws that I have given them, with the exception of a few who chose to fall in love, instead of mating with the strongest of men.
"Still, the children that were born out of love were still Amazons. Their bodies were forged by the strength of their ancestors. So, if you are asking me if they are prepared for war then the answer is yes. Now, old friend, it is my turn to ask you a question…
"Are you prepared for what is about to come?"
Astarte lightly caressed the side of Malacai's bony face with the back of her hand. The Dracolich didn't pull away and allowed her to have her way.
"Do you even need to ask?" Malacai answered with a snort.
Astarte smiled, but this time, the smile contained a sadness that only Malacai and her understood.
Malacai gazed one last time at Astarte's beautiful face, before turning around to leave the temple.
"When the time comes, I will come for you again," Malacai said without looking back.
Astarte watched his retreating back, with the same sad smile plastered on her face. Only when she could no longer see him, did she open her lips and spoke, ever so softly…
"Malacai, you see things others can't.
Hear things others don't
Shed tears when others won't
And Fight when others don't."
The Goddess sighed one more time before she walked back to her original place.
"After thousands of years, you will once again stand on the frontlines of the battlefield," Astarte said firmly as the crimson waters parted for her to cross over. "You've lived a very hard, and painful life, old friend."
Soon, the waters fell down on the pool and returned to its original color.
Astarte's statue stood tall and proud.
Waiting for the day when the Ancient Guardian of the World would come to visit her, one last time.
—–
Two ravens cawed in the sky before landing on a branch of a tree. They looked at the old man who was peacefully taking a nap on the branch opposite theirs. The two ravens glanced at each other before once more cawing, in order to wake up the old coot who was still enjoying his afternoon siesta.
James opened his eyes and gazed at the two ravens who were looking back at him with fed up expressions on their faces. The old man yawned and scratched his head before winking at the two ravens that had been away for several days.
"Do the two of you have any news for me?" James asked.
The two ravens cawed once again and flapped their wings to fly towards him. Both of them landed on James' shoulder and closed their eyes. James, too, closed his eyes, as he felt the familiar connection between his two companions.
Images started to appear inside his head as the two ravens shared their memories with him.
After seeing all of their memories, James sighed and nodded his head in understanding.
"Continue to monitor them and keep me updated," James ordered as he jumped off the tree. "I'm going back to the Tower of Babylon."
The two ravens nodded their heads before flying towards the sky. James watched them go until they had disappeared from the horizon.
He didn't have much time left, and he needed to arrive at the Tower as soon as possible. Vlad and him had parted ways because the Demigod said that he needed to meet some of his old acquaintances.
James didn't mind because both of their goals were the same. Since that was the case, it was best for them to travel separately, in order to accomplish their individual tasks with ease.
The old bandit placed his fingers over his lips and whistled. He whistled many times, and each note was different.
After two minutes, James stopped and stood at ease.
Suddenly, a neigh sounded behind him. James smiled as he watched an eight-legged horse gallop in his direction from the sky.
The horse's coat was white as snow, and its eyes were as black as coal. Clearly, this was not the same horse that he had ridden long ago, but James still felt the undeniable connection between him and the magnificent steed.
It didn't take long before the eight-legged horse landed a few meters away from him. It neighed and approached James with an eagerness that had been rooted in its bloodline.
James lovingly stroked its head and caressed its neck.
"You must be his great, great, great, great, grandson," James said softly as he played with the horse's ears. "Will you accompany me in this lifetime?"
The horse neighed and nodded its head in acknowledgement.
"Then, I should give you a proper name," James stated as he eyed the horse, but the latter shook its head and neighed in disapproval.
James' eyes widened for a brief moment before it was replaced with an understanding gaze.
"So, you wish for that as well." James patted the horse's head with a smile. "Very well, I will honor your wish."
The horse neighed softly and rested its head on James shoulder. The old man wrapped his arms around the horse and rubbed its neck, just like he did long ago.
"Sleipnir, your name will be Sleipnir," James whispered in the horse's ears.
The horse's ears twitched, and uttered a satisfied neigh before nudging James head with the side of its cheeks.
It then took a few steps back and made a gesture with its head.
James chuckled and nodded. He then mounted the back of the horse. Even without a saddle, he sat comfortably on its back. Sleipnir was confident that no matter how fast it ran, the rider on its back would not fall off.
Since that was the case, he pawed the ground with its hooves before dashing forward.
Soon the eight-legged horse galloped into the sky, headed towards the Tower of Babylon.
As the wind brushed past James face, a few bittersweet memories resurfaced inside his head. They were the memories of a time long forgotten, memories of the path he had trodden.
"Make it in time, Sleipnir," James ordered. "For Asgard, and the Nine Realms!"
