Loathing

The walk back up to the church was suffocating.

The air itself seemed to hum with contempt, the loathing of hundreds of eyes pressing down on them. Ylfa felt it ripple through her fur like static, sharp enough to sting. People fled at the sight of her ears, her tail - some shrieking, some just bolting wordlessly. The few who lingered kept to the edges of the street, eyes narrowed, voices low with whispered curses.

Jere wasn’t fazed. He had long since grown numb to such stares. But his processors noted the tension in Ylfa’s steps, the faint tremor in her tail. So he adjusted his pace until their shoulders brushed. A subtle act, but one she noticed.

Her tail no longer curled between her legs. It swung free. She wasn’t proud, not yet - but she wasn’t broken, either. His presence steadied her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

The climb up the hill was silent. The palace loomed like a blade, the church beside it shining falsely in the morning light. Jere’s processors drifted, recording small details - the clear skies, the unusual absence of rain. A thought flickered: perhaps the magic energy here lessened the need for water cycles. It filed the observation away.

The heavy doors groaned open.

Inside, the priest stood in the same place Jere had first appeared in this world. Their twin glares cut through his polished mask of serenity, and for half a heartbeat he faltered - feet shifting back, hands trembling. But his composure returned almost instantly. He cleared his throat, voice steady though his pulse thundered in his veins.

“J-1. You are to destroy the enemy forces currently besieging the city I will mark for you. When that is done, return here in the morning for your next mission.”

His hand lifted, magic flowing like smoke as coordinates embedded themselves into Jere’s mind.

Without a word, Jere turned. Ylfa moved with him in perfect step. The church doors closed behind them with a heavy clunk. His wings snapped wide. She leapt up, arms wrapping around his neck, legs gripping tight.

One heavy beat of his wings and they shot into the sky, the church shrinking to nothing beneath them.

The roar of his ion engines drowned out the world. Wind howled around them, flattening Ylfa’s ears against her skull. She looked back at the city shrinking below, her chest tight.

The last mission had nearly killed them both. Or at least - it had nearly killed her. If Jere hadn’t shielded her with his body, she would have been nothing more than broken bones in the dirt. The thought twisted in her stomach. He hadn’t even walked away with a bruise. She still didn’t understand how.

But she was grateful. Desperately so. If he had died there, she wouldn’t have lasted long. Capture would have been certain. Or worse.

Her arms squeezed tighter around his neck, her body pressing flush against his back. She shut her eyes against the rushing wind, burying herself in the warmth radiating off him. He was her lifeline now. Her only lifeline.

And she would never let go.

The besieged city stood encircled by towering stone walls, its battlements bristling with weary knights doing their best to protect the citizens huddled within. Beyond, an armada of demons spread across the fields, jeering and howling, their cries carrying even over the wind. It was the same tactic Jere had observed during his first mission - starve the defenders into surrender. His processors tagged it as a classic, proven siege method: slow, risky if reinforcements arrived, but in theory the most efficient for minimizing casualties. Normally.

He scanned the massed enemy forces - imps, orcs, goblins - and calculated the runs it would take. Then, over the rush of air, a voice pressed close to his ear.

“After your first pass, drop me off! I’ll help you!”

Jere turned his head. Ylfa’s face was right beside his, her cheek brushing his shoulder as she leaned forward to watch the scene below. Determination sharpened her expression. She wanted this. He didn’t need her assistance, but even he could recognize the importance of granting it. He gave a short nod.

“Okay. Get ready.”

She answered with her own nod and slipped back into place, gripping him tighter. Jere replotted his approach, adjusting his attack route to include her dismount. With that calculated, he angled down into a shallow dive before tucking into a near-vertical plunge. The vents opened, ion engines wailed, and for a heartbeat every eye on the battlefield turned upward. The Angel of Death descended - a speck, distant and silent, growing larger.

Then he leveled off far beyond bowshot and swept low across the plain, silent as a shadow. Ylfa clamped her eyes shut, ears pressed flat, enduring the brutal roar as it cracked over her. For both defenders and attackers, the world held its breath. Five seconds of silence stretched thin - then shattered.

A black streak ripped through the demon horde, and an entire row of bodies crumpled, heads severed before the sound of his passing even reached them. Panic erupted among the enemy. The knights on the walls gaped as if witnessing a legend born.

Jere bled speed, feathers flaring to catch the air. He rolled upright, wings beating hard to steady himself. When he had slowed enough, Ylfa slipped free, dropping lightly onto the grass. He was airborne again in an instant, ion engines blazing, shooting high above. She braced herself as the demons scrambled, some fleeing, others shouting to rally. Then, from overhead, Jere plunged again, shrieking like a banshee. Another swath of foes collapsed beneath his blade without one managing to touch him.

Her turn. Magic pulsed through her veins, warm and alive, gathering in her palms. Fire swirled into a sphere above her hand, heat licking her fingers. With the snap of a pitcher’s throw, she hurled it downrange. The fireball shrieked through the air, slamming into a goblin and detonating in a thunderclap. The blast consumed him and eight more around him, leaving nothing but ash and flame. Another charge, another throw - this time striking an orc square in the chest, the explosion swallowing his roar mid-swing.

Jere’s shadow streaked across her vision again, his blade tearing through ranks like paper. He broke off low, skimming the ground before looping around to target the ones running. Dozens more fell. Then he landed, the earth seeming to tremble under his weight.

The demons faltered. Some ran. Others froze in terror. Jere advanced with measured menace, forcing them back toward Ylfa. She raised her hand, fire leaping from her fingers. Her fireballs shrieked overhead, bursting among the fleeing stragglers. Each impact seared the ground black and turned bodies into cinders.

Jere admired the force she commanded, though it unsettled him. A direct strike from her magic would end him just as surely as the nuclear fire had on Earth. Waves of heat washed over his body as the demons broke apart, scattering in desperation.

He quickened his pace, wings snapping once to launch him forward. His blade cut down two imps in a single strike. An orc charged headlong, axe raised high. Jere met its eyes, caught the swing on one wing, and answered with a decapitating stroke. Another leapt at him, only to be sliced clean in two as he pivoted.

Within minutes, the organized demon host collapsed into a scattered handful of survivors. Ylfa conjured one last fireball, the air around it screaming with its passage as it descended on a lone goblin fleeing into the distance. She turned away as it erupted, smoke and flame rising behind her.

When she looked back, Jere was walking toward her. She smiled. He gave a single, firm nod.

“Good job.”

Her smile brightened.
“Thank you. That worked really well. We make a good team.”

“I agree,” he said. “We were able to complete that forty percent faster than if I had been alone.”

She grinned, tail swishing in satisfaction.
“I’m glad I could be of use.”

She pointed toward the city walls. Knights leaned forward over the parapets, staring in stunned silence, while at the gates, citizens pressed close, wide-eyed and whispering.

“Let’s go.”

Jere tilted his head.
“What for?”

“To make sure they’re okay,” she said, frowning. “Otherwise we did all this for nothing.”

He hesitated, but the logic was sound. He followed, her tail swaying lightly from side to side, a banner of pride in their victory.

The humans gathered at the gateway, their eyes wide as Jere and Ylfa approached. He scanned their faces but could not parse their expressions. Fear? Awe? Hatred? His processors flagged uncertainty.

Ylfa, by contrast, lifted a hand in a cheerful wave, her ears twitching with nervous energy.
“Hello! Is everyone alright? Did any demons get away?”

Jere blinked, surprised at her sudden concern for strangers. Yet it felt less like she was reaching for them, and more like she was trying to convince herself of something. He couldn’t decipher what.

The crowd remained motionless. Parents held their children close; little ones clutched at their mothers’ skirts and fathers’ legs, peeking out with wide, frightened eyes. Still, no one answered. Ylfa’s waving slowed, her hand dropping halfway. Her voice softened, tinged with unease.
“Hello? Are you okay?”

At last, mutters rippled through the crowd.

“Demons killing demons? Is such a thing even possible?”
“Are they worse than demons?”
“An evil greater than the demons themselves?”

The whispers grew sharper, swelling into voices raised with fear - and then with anger.

“Go away! We don’t want demons around here!”
“Killing your own kind - you’re beyond evil!”
“Leave!”
“Begone!”

Insults crashed over them like waves. Then came the first stone - small, clattering harmlessly to the dirt. A tomato followed, bursting wetly against the ground. Others bent to seize whatever they could find: more stones, sticks, scraps of refuse. One jagged rock struck Ylfa’s cheek with a sharp crack. She barely flinched, raising her hand to rub the spot. Her tail crept down, curling tight between her legs. Her open mouth trembled with the beginnings of words she couldn’t form.

That was enough. Jere reached out, touching her shoulder. Once, gently. Then again, more firmly. Her eyes blinked rapidly as if waking, tears gathering fast. She turned to him at last, her face crumpling.

Without hesitation, he pivoted and spread his wings. She clutched his neck, burying herself against him. One powerful beat, and they rose skyward, leaving the furious crowd dwindling below.

The wind roared past, ion engines igniting with a scream. Jere’s thoughts clicked into focus: when the projectiles had started flying, part of him had calculated the efficiency of annihilating the entire crowd. They were displaying hostile, enemy behavior. But another part - quiet, insistent - warned that if he acted, Ylfa would hate him. That stopped him.

He could feel her trembling now, her cheek pressed against the back of his head, arms locked tightly around him. Her thoughts were a storm. She had hoped, deep down, that saving the city might earn respect. That maybe, just maybe, she could still be proud of being a Formy. But the jeers and stones confirmed what she already feared: being a Formy made her the enemy, no matter what she did.

The hope for acceptance was gone. All that remained was Jere.

Her tears streamed back into the howling wind as she lowered her chin onto his head, holding him as if afraid to let go. He didn’t shift away. He only carried her higher, leaving the hatred below to fade into silence.