Didn't bold Springtrap's speech, because that was dumb to begin with.

This is the 4th last chapter of the story. It's been a wild ride. Love you all – stay safe. Don't hoard your TP, it's unbecoming.

Chapter 14

It Bringeth Forth Sin

Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man:

But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.

Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.

Do not err, my beloved brethren.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

Of his own will begat he us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures.

—James 1: 13-18

"You're shorter than I'd thought you'd be," said the first Springtrap, small wisps of black smoke curling out from his throat every time he opened his throat. The wisps would hang there, before moving around to partially obscure his eyes, filled with a spark of humorous spirit. "But then again, I came out of the portal and everyone was taller than me." His eyes flickered to Avaren, standing next to Ember with his shoulders tensed, then back to her. "Is that a common theme? Is everyone in this world either ridiculously short or tall?" He winked mischievously at Avaren, prompting his companion to clear his throat, though Ember was certain that he was speaking through a voice box, and that the noise was wholly unnecessary.

"I apologize for him," the second Springtrap said, a large, spiderlike limb poking out of his back and jabbing the other in the neck. "He thinks that he's hilarious. But that's what happens when you rule an entire Plane of Reality by yourself – no one challenges your sense of humour."

"Oh, I get challenged all the time," the first responded. "They're always pushing. They always come to me for their ruddy advice, even when they know the answer already."

"The nature of darks…" the second began to say before cutting himself off. "We're getting off track. On my home Plane I am called Salvage. This, here, is… a shapeshifting being who thought that imitating a mass murderer from another universe was a better way to intimidate his followers than actually being creative."

"Birth name is Tenagohr," the first supplied helpfully, "but you may as well call me Dark Springtrap – the other ones are calling me that." Tenagohr reminded Ember more of an attention seeking puppy than any threat she had ever encountered. If it was an act, it was a good one – she would have been willing to write him off as harmless, if not for the black smoke constantly circling around him.

"Okay. That's… great," Ember said. She glanced at the others for help, but Avaren still seemed to be pissed off by the joke about his height, and Sighard and Malech seemed like they were more confused than potentially helpful. With her companions useless for the time being, she decided to get straight to the point. "What are you doing here?"

"What are we… what?" Tenagohr said, apparently baffled. Salvage rolled his eyes, and the spider limb poked Tenagohr again, much to his protest.

"You're aware of Springtrap's machine?" At Ember's nod of confirmation, he continued, "the machine forcefully transports things from other Planes of Reality which are highly similar to him in any way. Several inanimate art projects were among these. Unfortunately, he is not willing to send anyone back."

"So, you want to hide out for the rest of the battle?" Ember asked, confused. "So that you don't have to help him? Wait for a good opportunity to jump back in?" Salvage shook his head.

"Springtrap was enthralling to many of the alternate versions of himself who came through that machine. Those who disagreed and asked to be returned home were…"

"They were killed?" Ember guessed.

"Yes. One of them was very passionately dismembered – thankfully that one was just an AI, so he couldn't feel pain. But the others? One was a human who was wearing the suit. They suffocated him while making cuts on his arms – eighty-seven of them. I counted."

"You didn't stop them?" Ember asked, even though she knew the question was unfair.

"He couldn't," Tenagohr said. "They would have killed him, too." Earlier, he had possessed humour and optimism in his voice – Ember had been surprised, but the change in tone had been welcome. Now, looking into his eyes, she saw only a hollow bitterness she had seen regularly in her own, whenever she had looked in the mirror.

"We were actually hoping that we could assist you," Salvage said. "I believe that hiding now would be… cowardly. We have already fled – I have no intention of shirking away from the battlefield." Tenagohr nodded with affirmation.

Ember's eyes flicked between the two, her right hand shaking violently.

I guess Arma doesn't trust these guys.

She paused, considering how to ask her question. Gentle, or blunt. Her hand jerked in response.

Fuck it. Blunt it was, then.

"How do we know you aren't fucking with us?" she said, struggling to keep a straight face. That was a line she'd never thought she'd have to actually ask anyone – when she was younger, yes, but not when she was a teenager.

"There's not much we can offer," Salvage said plainly. "Our word is all we can give."

"That's not good enough," Ember replied. "I can't just… let you in. We can't just let you in."

"Why not?" Salvage motioned towards the line of Demonites overlooking their conversation. "You let them."

"Others vouched for them," Avaren supplied. Ember looked at his hands – one of them was slightly raised, the claws already beginning to slowly extend. "Unfortunately, there isn't really anyone to vouch for you, is there?"

"No," Salvage admitted. "Only each other. And, again – our word."

"Your word is barely relevant," Sighard spat back. "We don't know you. Your word doesn't change that." Salvage smiled back, waving his hand in front of his face – a blue light glowed from within the suit.

"Well, not trust, then. Perhaps something else we can offer?" he suggested. "Extra firepower? Significant extra firepower."

"How big is significant?" Ember asked, trying to maintain at least some impression of civility.

"Tide-changing, if applied to the right situation," Salvage said.

"That's all firepower," Sighard grunted. "A general can be hit by a stray bullet as easily as one shot from the barrel of a trained sniper's rifle."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Malech said without missing a beat. Ember sighed inwardly.

God, Malech, fucking why?

"Oh?" Salvage seemed amused at the statement, as one of his spider limbs emerged from his backside, then another, so that they were pointing to either side of him. Ember's hand shook, the Leviathan Cross slowly lighting up. "Do you mind if I demonstrate?" he asked casually, as Tenagohr took a hurried step backwards.

"Towards the trees, if you would," Malech deadpanned. Sighard seemed ready to slap him – his claws were digging deep into the earth, carving rough grooves into Shakildoana's territory – that would have to be reclaimed, Ember knew.

"With pleasure." Salvage swivelled around on his hips, Tenagohr ducking to avoid the drooping spider legs. The two extended limbs pointed themselves towards the trees, before the tips split open into four triangular panels, revealing a whirring, indented cylinder, the edges glowing blue. As the light intensified, Ember directed eyes towards the trees themselves – it was too bright to look at without hurting herself. And then they fired, and the world went white. For seconds she thought she'd gone blind, her balance suddenly non-existent. She felt Avaren tug on her arm, relaxed.

As the whiteness faded away, faint outlines came into view – something vaguely resembling a tree trunk lying on its side, the mid-section completely obliterated. Chips of wood scattered across the forest floor and Shakildoana's territory.

"Oh," Ember muttered. "Wow."

Salvage swivelled around again, grinning pleasantly – Tenagohr didn't seem to be bothered by the blinding light, but then Ember noticed that he'd wrapped bands of black smoke around his eyes. Cheater.

"Well?" he pressed. Ember eyed the others out of the corner of her eye – Avaren must have covered his eyes with layers of scales, but he seemed resigned, as he stared at the obliterated tree trunk.

"Just… don't be bad?" Ember said lamely, before snorting. "Ah, fuck it. Come on. We've wasted enough time here." Salvage seemed surprised, even more so than Malech, but he didn't complain, falling into step beside her as they turned back to the line. Avaren was constantly glaring at Tenagohr, who was looking at the sky and smiling cheerily. Ember doubted that he felt so chipper – few ever did, and Tenagohr had been sombre only a few minutes ago.

"This is impressive," Salvage said as they neared the line. "You've had how long to prepare all of this?"

"Not long enough," Avaren grunted back. That was the only response he would get for that question.

The Demonites tensed up when they approached, eyeing the two new arrivals with concern. Those with weapons began to reach for them, blades of bone and roughly cut clubs of wood. She couldn't blame them for being wary. She was wary herself – the only thing keeping her from disintegrating Salvage's head right now was the fact that if he'd wanted them dead, he could have killed them when he was still in the forest. It would have only taken two of those explosive beams – one to break through the wall of Demonites, another to deal the killing blow to his intended target.

Tenagohr, though? He was still a mystery. Having random mood swings, happy go lucky one second and grim and morose the next. She had seen some of the uses he had for his black smoke – making the flag, wrapping it over his eyes to avoid being blinded – but she felt as if he hadn't even been scraping the surface. There was potential in an ability like that – potential she had yet to see.

"Don't worry, they're fine," Ember said when one of them stepped forward – the one who'd stabbed the blowfly when it had been ensnaring Arma. Cleaver-shaped bone, large spikes lining the eye sockets, batlike wings protruding out the backside. The Demonite eyed the two warily, cleaver rotating into a slightly better position for an upwards slice.

"You sure about that?" they asked. "Most of us are tense. When we see someone we don't know, we're tempted to shoot. I told them to hold off this time – they won't listen to me again." Ember eyed the other Demonites in the line, all of whom looked eager to clobber either of the two newcomers.

"Uh huh," she said. "I'll keep that in mind, um…"

"Akechmak," the Demonite supplied. "I figured that since they were waving the flag…"

"Yeah," she said. "Great. From what I've heard, there won't be any more friendlies. So if anything takes a single step outside the tree line…"

"It'll be dead the moment it touches down," Akechmak replied, their statement a promise. "Unless there's a horde – there might be an actual problem, if that happens."

"Then take care of that problem when it arises."

"Of course. You'd like to come through?"

"Yeah. We'd like that, thanks."

"Right. Okay, make way!" Akechmak waved their bone cleaver, and the Demonites began to shuffle off to the sides, creating a funnelled opening into the hilly section behind them. As they passed through, Ember noticed the small bone-like protrusions in the grass – Shakildoana had spread his territory backwards as well, then. There were towers set up behind the wall of Demonites now, some Demonites and demons sitting in their perches, ready to rain fury upon the battlefield. Ballistae and catapults too, scattered in a rough formation and aimed towards the trees.

"Rodman," Akechmak called when they had passed through. "You have an estimated time?" Ember frowned, considering.

"When did the whirring stop?" she asked them.

"Three minutes ago," the Demonite replied.

"Expect them in fifty-seven, then."

"It's confirmed, then? The whirring was his machine?"

"Yes." She eyed Salvage and Tenagohr, then nodded. "Yeah. An hour from then, I think."

"Alright." Akechmak nodded back. "Peace be with you, Rodman. Avaren, Malech, Sighard. Cosplayers." The Demonite turned back, returning to their post without another word. Ember turned to Tenagohr as they continued walking.

"What do you do?" she questioned, trying not to come off as too pushy.

"What?"

"Salvage has flashy tech. You have black smoke. But there's more to it than that, right?"

"There's always more to everything," Tenagohr replied. Like, you're not just super short because you're super short – you're super short because on one specific night, a man and a woman–"

"Don't even finish that thought," Avaren said threateningly. "You don't want to go there."

"Alright, alright," Tenagohr shot back. "What do you want to know, then?"

"Everything," Ember replied simply.

"Reaching a little bit broadly, right there."

"Everything that I need to know."

"And how am I to judge that accurately?" Tenagohr said, looking her dead in the eyes. His smile was no longer present. "Your idea of what you need to know is different than mine, Ember Rodman."

"Then give me something," she scowled. "How powerful are you? What can you do?"

"Very," he replied. "And the answer to your second question? A lot. Why? Why do you need to know this now? You know that I'm on your side. We both are."

"I don't know that for certain. I'm just giving you the benefit of the doubt. I know that Salvage is powerful. You probably are, too. Very, you said. But here's what I know. Springtrap has an army of Demonites, demons, and alternate versions of himself who might be as powerful as you are. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are on his side. And I know for a fact that he has the demon king Eggel Hazahav wrapped around his finger. I need to know how powerful you are, so that I know that if you're nearby, I can rely on you to take care of a situation, Tenagohr." Ember hesitated. "…Dark Springtrap." Tenagohr cracked a grin.

"Is that all? Or did you have another speech ready?" he said. A ball of black smoke formed in his hand, the shape quickly switching between a throwing star, a lump of coal, and a rubber duck. Ember stared as the smoke kept changing. Small cube. Worn brick. A stylized flowerpot. A teacup. A slice of cake. On and on it went, flickering between different images as if they were blueprints in Tenagohr's – Dark Springtrap's – head and he was just scrolling through them all as rapidly as he could.

"Yeah." He smiled at her, the images continuing to grow and shrink and contract and change, never stopping, never slowing down. "It does… whatever I want it to. If need a weapon? I've got one. If I need to cross a river? It builds a bridge for me. Most darks can do this, but I had a particular talent for harnessing the darkmist."

"Darkmist?"

"It's what we call it. Some think we're born from it. I just like to think that we… emerged." Ember stared.

"You're a demon."

"No," he replied. "There's a sizeable difference there. But we were both born from the darkmist, yes."

"They call it the Chaos."

"There are many names," Dark Springtrap said easily. "But they all mean the same thing. The endless void. Yes?"

"I suppose."

"Mm. Anyways – you wanted to know what I could do, didn't you, Rodman?" The darkmist shifted forms again – this time, it stayed. A simplistic dart. "Watch," he said, and the dart of darkmist shot forward. One second it was there, and the next she couldn't see it. Ember narrows her eyes, watching the hill Dark Springtrap had aimed at.

"Nothing's happening," she said, confused.

"Yes," Dark Springtrap replied, grinning. "Nothing happens. Not until I want it." He clenched his fist. And then dirt and mud fountained into the air like a geyser, flashes of darkmist interwoven between the individual grains, a smoking crater crawling with wisps of black matter the only evidence of the dart's existence.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Oh fuck, indeed.

"The explosion gets bigger, the larger the amount of darkmist," Dark Springtrap told her. "I keep to the smaller sizes, generally. It's usually enough to scare people. But you don't want that, do you?" She shook her head. "Good. I haven't been able to enjoy some plain old destruction in a while." His grin spread wider, and in that grin, Ember saw madness. Sickness. Because Tenagohr was plagued by the same madness that all Springtraps experienced. There'd had to be something more than his form which had caused the device to seek him out. His body's composition was nothing similar to that of Springtrap's, but it had chosen him anyway, because he had shared that same madness and delirium, possessed the same desire for violence and destruction, that murderous conviction present within all of them.

You're a monster too, aren't you?

But I am too, in the end.

All of us are.

"You're afraid," Tenagohr observed. "Good. That fear will keep you alive, Rodman. Hold it close to your heart, and never let go of it. You do not wish to die, do you?" Ember shook her head – she wasn't sure if it was up or down. It was only a response, and a meaningless one at that. Whatever he saw, Tenagohr had been satisfied; he gave her a nod, and then they were walking again. It was easy to forget, with the countless dangerous demons around her, that the rabbit walking next to her could likely kill every single one of them if he so desired. That he hadn't immediately been able to defeat the other Springtraps and take the portal back to his home Plane was… worrying. How powerful were the other Springtraps, if he couldn't deal with them? Him and Salvage?

"Are you afraid, Tenagohr?" she asked him. The dark smiled at her – it was an eerie sort of smile, one which filled her with more dread than comfort. She felt something ice cold seep into her veins, snaking its course throughout her entire body. Ember shivered involuntarily.

"Yes. I am always afraid, Rodman." He flicked a finger back towards the woods, shaking his head. "The creatures that came out of that portal, after me? There were some which labels cannot define. Monster? Abomination? They are more than that. Something so twisted that I cannot even fully comprehend the full extent of what they can do. You think that I am powerful? I am nothing next to some of them." Ember was horrified – something about the way he'd said it had shaken her to her very core. But she needed more.

"Can you tell me more?" she asked. "About the… more powerful ones?"

"Oh, certainly. I happened to meet an individual there who I would describe as almost identical to the Springtrap of your Plane. But he had fangs – long and sharp and bloodied from tearing chunks out of prey. Or at least that's what I assume – we never had a chance to really talk. But I saw what he can do. He was standing next to me one second, and then he just… noticed something. He was gone in an instant, and then he was back, holding the head of one of the ones who's tried to run away. That was in a split second. I have never seen anything move so fast."

"God. Are there any worse than that?"

"Yes – there was another one very similar to yours. But it was as if he had been put through some terrible inferno – he was burnt at the edges, you see, some of the metal welded together so that his joints wouldn't move correctly. He wasn't quite as whole as yours. But he still managed to burn down an entire section of the forest in a minute flat." Tenagohr smirked. "These are scary times, Rodman. It is scarce, to not be terrified."

"Hey, Ember!" Ember twisted back – Vivian was walking towards them, eyeing the two Springtraps with… something. Not even fear, or hatred. Respect? Caution?

Things weren't always this complicated.

"Hey, Viv." She waved. "You alright?" Vivian nodded – Ember's eyes flickered to Tenagohr, sporting his original goofy smirk and relaxed posture. Mask on – Dark Springtrap now.

"I'm more concerned about you, to be honest," Vivian replied. "Who are these guys?" Ember looked at Tenagohr, raising an eyebrow.

"Dark Springtrap," Tenagohr said, grin widening. "It's a pleasure." Ember frowned.

No 'my birth name is Tenagohr' for her, huh?

"Uh huh," Vivian muttered. "And you?"

"Salvage."

"Cool. Emmie, can we talk?"

"Um. Yeah." Vivian took her hand, quickly pulling her away from the others. Tenagohr watched then until he couldn't anymore, the tide of moving Demonites too thick to see them.

"Does he always smile like that?" Vivian asked when they were out of earshot. "Dark Springtrap?"

"No," Ember said. "He's pretty scary."

"Aren't they both?"

"I suppose." Vivian snorted.

"Listen, I want to trust your judgement. I really do."

"And you don't?"

"Not in this case. Sorry." Ember sighed.

"I can't blame you. Honestly, this entire situation is… not ideal. Ten—Dark Springtrap's been telling me things, about the other alternate Springtraps. It's looking pretty bad."

"Listen, if you need them because they have the firepower, I understand. I was watching, you know, when they demonstrated what they could do."

"That's part of it. But also, I don't know what they'll do if we don't let them help us. Then they won't bother with sides – they'll just kill senselessly, at random, until they reach Springtrap's machine." Vivian let out a small whistle.

"Damn, girl. That's rough."

"Heh, this is nothing. Wait till they actually show up."

"Yeah. That'll be something." Vivian looked back at Tenagohr – he was chatting with Avaren, a smoky jack-in-the-box going off in his hand before switching into a shadowy figure of a dancing bear. "You think he'll turn on you?"

"Not if we help him get to that machine. Him and Salvage."

"If you say so. I just don't want anything to happen because you were too…"

"Blind? Naïve?"

"No – nice. Generous. You don't have to help them."

"No. But if helping them benefits us, then I'll go ahead with it."

"You've thought about this?"

"Yeah. Somewhat."

"So, not at all."

"Something like that." Vivian nudged her playfully.

"Idiot."

"Dipshit."

"Moron." Vivian paused. "You sure about all this? I don't know how well we'll hold up once Springtrap arrives."

"We'll make it through." Ember looked at the line, sprawling all the way to the town. "I've got to go make sure everything's alright, back there."

"It doesn't have to be you."

"No. I was thinking that both of us should go." Vivian's expression flickered between surprise, confusion, willingness, before settling down on one. Understanding.

"You want me to stay behind," she said, almost hurt. "You're going to have them all hide, and then make me hide with them." They were alone in the field, walking away from the line. The demons were packed in closer to Shakildoana's territory – they were out of that now.

"You're not going to?" Ember said sarcastically. "I know you aren't going to do that, not willingly."

"Unwillingly, then?" Vivian shot back.

"No – for fuck's sake, Viv. I wouldn't do that to you." Vivian's eyes twitched towards the town, then back to Ember again.

"You don't want me to participate in this fight, though," she said. "Why?"

"Is that not obvious enough?" Ember said bitterly. "I've lost enough people. I can't lose anyone else."

"You won't lose me."

"Yeah. I won't." Ember grasped Vivian's hand. "Because you're going to be safe."

"And what about you?" Vivian asked. "You're the one who'll be fighting, you're the one who'll be in danger? You don't lose me, b-but I lose you?" She darted forward, pulling Ember into a hug, resting her head on her shoulder. "That's not fair. T-that's not fucking fair."

"I know," Ember whispered. She felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I fucking know."

"No, you don't," Vivian said to her, sobs mixing in with the words. "No, you fucking don't. You expect me to just be okay with this? To just- just sit there, let you run off and throw your life away? Fuck that. Fuck!" Her fingers clenched tighter as she drew Ember closer, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Viv, do you know what happens? If I let you join the fight?"

"T-tell me."

"I lose you. We don't have weapons to spare – they're all-natural weapons, that they're wielding. You don't have any combat experience. If I send you in there, you'll get struck down before you know it."

"There's stuff at your house, right?" Vivian asked, still shaking. "I could go there. Get stuff, come back."

"We don't know if they're watching the house, Viv. It's too close to the forest."

"It'll give me a chance."

"You'd take that chance."

"I'll take any chance, if it meant that I'm not leaving you alone." Ember broke the hug, looking into Vivian's eyes.

She's serious.

Fuck.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

"That's it? Okay?" Vivian asked, confused.

"Yeah. I'll… fly you to the town. If you choose to go to my house… bring someone with you?" Vivian stared her best friend in the eyes; she nodded.

"I'll do that," she lied.

xXx

Anna had stared down bullies before. She knew how to deal with them when they got too physical. Too violent. But she wasn't certain if she should be classifying Veronica as a bully, or an idiot. She was barely listening as Veronica screamed something into her face, spit shooting out of her mouth.

"That's not a flattering look on you, Veronica," she commented idly, as she watched the people heading into the basements of the various houses. After the… rage… had overcome everyone, things had gotten heated. After it had died down, with flying skeletons dropping bombs on their heads? It hadn't been too hard to convince everyone that demons were a reality. Even those who were sceptical didn't hesitate to join the others in hiding. Besides, the giant bird talking had probably helped.

Well, that's one good thing to come out of this whole mess.

Veronica was screaming again, although now she just looked insulted. Anna rolled her eyes, before winking at her and stepping away from the wall, beginning to walk to the nearest line of people. Veronica didn't join her – she was still standing where she had been, screaming at her.

"Do you want to die, Veronica?" she called back casually. "Most of us actually want to live, not just stand around." Veronica's face twisted up again, and then she was off.

"Fucking insane, isn't she?" Anna tilted her head towards the sky; Ember was hovering there, her arms wrapped around Vivian, who looked like someone who desperately wanted their feet back on the ground.

"Yeah, something like that," Anna replied. Fuck, she'd seen a giant chicken demonstrate public speaking skills today, Ember hovering in the air was nothing compared to that. "What are you doing here?"

"Just making sure you guys are going to stay safe," Ember replied. "You are, right?"

"Fucking put me down!" Vivian shrieked frightfully in her friend's arms.

"Oh yeah," Ember grinned. "And I'm dropping Viv off. Do you mind taking her?"

"Erm." Anna looked at Vivian, who had adopted a furious expression when Ember still hadn't lowered her to the ground. "Yeah, sure. Is she going to run away?"

"If she ends up running away, I expect you to run away with her," Ember said cheerily. "But yeah, I would expect it. She wants to join in."

"Oh. With your war thingy?"

"Yeah." Ember smiled. "War thingy."

"Will you just–"

"Yeah, yeah. Coming down." Ember dropped to the ground, lifting Vivian up at the last second so that she didn't hit the ground hard. "That better?"

"Fuck, yes. Don't do that again."

"Sure thing."

"I fucking hate you."

"Nah, you love me." Vivian didn't respond immediately – a look of something which could have been panic flashed over her face momentarily, before she went back to looking pissed.

"Uh huh. Not enough that I won't beat you up the next time you do it."

"Oh, gee," Ember said. "I'm terrified. Quaking in my boots."

"You're wearing runners."

"That's irrelevant. Anna?"

"Yeah?"

"Look after my best friend for me, won't you?" Ember winked at her.

"If you can get her to shut up," she replied, pointing over her shoulder at Veronica. Ember scowled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll deal with her. Um," Ember began, pausing. "Once everything's over, I'll come back and let you know, so that you can come out."

"And if you don't make it?" Anna asked bluntly. Better to get it out of the way. Ember shrugged; expression nonchalant.

"Then someone else will. Might be a massive reptile man. Be nice to him if he ends up being the one – he'll have probably been forced."

"Yeah, got it." As Vivian stepped forward to give Ember a hug, Anna tore her eyes away. Veronica was muttering to herself, pacing back and forth.

Everything must be so backwards for you. There's something to pity in that.

"Look after her Anna," Ember muttered – she and Vivian had finished whatever they had needed to do. She was already walking towards Veronica, expression determined.

"I'll do that." She put her arm on Vivian's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go." Vivian yelped, moving away from Anna's grip.

"Get off me."

"Hey, if your girl crush asks me to take care of you, I'm going to take care of you. Seriously, she could probably break me in half."

"Definitely," Vivian agreed, relaxing a little as they walked to the end of the nearest line of people. Anna looked over shoulder – Ember was talking with Veronica, pointing back at the house animatedly as the other girl sulked.

"So, you are crushing on her?"

"Eh." Vivian shrugged. "Not that big of a secret, apparently. You know that reptile dude Ember was talking about?"

"Yeah?"

"His name's Avaren. He told me that I look at her weirdly. Apparently, everyone knows, because of that."

"Didn't pick up on that, actually. It was when you froze."

"Froze?"

"When she told you that you loved her."

"Oh. That." Vivian chuckled uncomfortably. "That caught me off guard."

"I'll bet. How long do you think Veronica's going to take?"

"To actually come over, or Ember off enough that she just leaves?"

"Either."

"I'll go with another ten second."

"Two minutes," Anna replied.

"Oh, gee. You're confident about that one," Vivian noted.

"Mm. Veronica's a moron. But she does have some semblance of intelligence, if you can force it out of her."

"That's true. I've never seen more than glimpses of it, though." Anna smirked.

"That's just Veronica."

"Yeah." Vivian looked back at Ember. "That's just her."

The wait was long – people were trying to be orderly, but they were also panicking, something which Anna found to never end well. As such, the front of the line was just a crowd of people trying to push their way into the building. It took them three minutes to get inside – three minutes of casually glancing back at Ember and Veronica and making awkward small talk.

Someone at the front had apparently managed to get the people to go to the back of the line, because the line was moving faster, and the two of them were suddenly packed in with the crowd. The basement itself was, although spacious, certainly not very welcoming. The two LED lights attached to the ceiling were constantly flickering out, as if someone was turning them on and off as many times as possible. Anna and Vivian were hanging by the front, waiting for whenever Veronica would be coming down.

"You think she went to another house?" Vivian asked as someone else came down the stairs.

"Nah. No line outside anymore, I reckon, and this is the closest one," Anna reasoned. "Ember's probably still talking to her."

"Or she's given up," Vivian muttered. "I wouldn't blame her."

"Yeah, Veronica's a difficult one," Anna admitted. "That's why she's such a pain in the ass. She's stubborn." Anna saw Vivian smile out of the corner of her eye; she grinned inwardly.

Yeah. Smile. We need more of that, right now.

No one was happy right now – everywhere it was darkness, dreariness, worn out faces. The day had taken a toll on everyone. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like, for Vivian and Ember. Ember in particular; whatever was going on with her, that happy attitude she'd been displaying? An act. Not all of it, but quite a large portion of it. She wasn't sure how much she'd fooled Vivian, but she suspected that it had done little to ease her worries.

"Oh. She's here." Anna turned her attention to the stairs – Veronica was walking down, her face still a perpetual frown. "Did she head back yet?" Vivian asked, trying to pass the question off as casual – if Anna hadn't been paying attention, she wouldn't have noticed the way she was clenching her fists. Veronica paused, then her frown deepened. "I guess that's a yes, then," Vivian muttered. "Things are about to get crazy."

"You're going to make me come with you, aren't you?" Anna said tiredly. "For fuck's sake, Vivian."

"I'm not going to make you come along," Vivian said sweetly, "but I'm not going to stop you."

"Again – Ember could snap me in half. I'm coming – or even better, don't go. Stay."

"Yeah, no. That's not happening. And if you even dare try and make me stay–"

"I get it, I get it. Fuck it. Let's go see this spooky basement." Vivian shrugged, hand waggling exaggeratively.

"It isn't really that spooky, if I recall correctly. Probably the scariest part is the random pentagram—"

"She has a pentagram in her basement?"

"Yeah."

"The fuck?"

"Demon summoning."

"Demon sum- the fuck, Vivian? That sounds like a fucking security breach." Anna shook her head vigorously. "Nah, that shit's spooky."

"It isn't that bad. If anything's actually creepy, it's the fucking Jesus statue."

"What? A crucifix?"

"No, like, a full-blown crucifix. Man sized and everything. I shit you not."

"Fuck. Oh, you know what? Let's go. I need to see this shit." Vivian pumped her fist into the air, grinning widely.

"Knew you'd see it my way."

"Still don't. There's risks going to this house?"

"When aren't their risks? There's a risk to every decision, Anna."

"Unless an assassin is regularly sneaking into my kitchen, there isn't a risk to choosing my breakfast cereal."

"It might have spiders."

"Inside? Nah, I secure that shit. C'mon, let's go do this before they start lobbing giant fireballs at each other."

"Pretty sure that's not going to happen."

"Who told you that? Ember?" Anna asked as she led Vivian up the stairs.

"Avaren, actually."

"A demon told you that? For fuck's sake, and you're taking him for his word?"

"He's proven himself trustworthy."

"Bullshit."

"No, really."

"That's lovely. Now, how risky is this visit, anyway?"

"Not that risky."

"Gonna need some elaboration."

"Again, not that risky. Ember's concern is that it's near the woods, and that Springtrap's people might be watching it. I doubt it, but she's paranoid about it. That was the reason why we left it in the first place."

"Uh huh. You and Ember, and, uh, fish dude?"

"You mean Sakhlam?" Vivian asked, sounding said. The two had finally passed the front door and were standing out on the road. "He's dead now."

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Anna muttered, feeling bad. "That must have sucked."

"We didn't see it. There's just no way he would have escaped, if you know what I mean."

"I get it. Shit, I get it."

"Yeah." Vivian paused, halting momentarily. "He was a friend, I guess. More to her than me, but I liked him. Sort of. He could be an asshole, but so can anyone, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Mm. It's just that… it sucks, you know? I met some demons today who I've never met before. Most of them were pretty nice – I'd fucking hate for some of them to not make it, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean. They were cool? They were good to you?"

"Yeah. And to Ember as well. I mean, fuck. I don't like this fight in general, but now that they aren't just nameless faces like they used to be? It's gonna be even worse."

"Uh huh. Not… really sure if I can offer you any advice on that front."

"You don't have to – that isn't your job. But thanks. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Um. Do you want me to go with you, after you get all the shit you need? Or…"

"What did you say about Ember again?"

"Yeah," Anna sighed, resigned. "Could break me in two. Yeah, yeah, I'll come with." She sniffled. "Fucker."

xXx

The light was still going, the machine still running, shooting its beacon into the sky. But the whirring had stopped long ago. Half an hour. Half an hour since it had dragged anything in, since another rabbit had tumbled out of the beam of light. Springtrap traced a circle in the air with a finger coated in liquid metal, smiling grimly.

A sign.

There had been some who had pushed back – those, he had dealt with. Shown them his power, or what the others could do with theirs. Such power indeed! Burning down forests, moving faster than one could blink, and the strength uproot an entire tree with a single hand? Worthy of the strongest of demons, perhaps! But not so. Springtrap had yet to meet Eggel Hazahav's group, and that was a major concern. If he hadn't even seen the troops, how could he rely on them? Reputation? They had none!

That would have to change. Yes, yes. That wouldn't do at all, would it? Couldn't rush into battle blind, could he? There needed to be plans, order, a structured outline! Things which needed to be done needed to be done. There were certain requirements, things which simply had to happen. Things he had to plan out.

Oh, but where oh where was the fun in planning?!

"It doesn't exist!" Springtrap cackled loudly, throwing his head back, arm thumping against the ground. He grinned widely at the other him – the one with the sharpened, bloodied teeth, so silent and sinister, but oh, so quick! Blink, and you'd miss him as he moved! Sinister twitched his head to the side, observing Springtrap with empty eyes, before his attention went back to the portal.

But back to Eggel Hazahav, newly crowned King of Demons – grudging as he was, he had his uses, and Springtrap had no intention letting those go to waste. If the golden calf could give him more soldiers for the fight, he would take those soldiers, and he would use them well. But the calf's stalling was troubling. And inconvenient. His hand would have to be forced – and Springtrap would be the one holding it.

"Better to act now, than let him pull out later," the animatronic muttered out loud. "Can't pull out of something he's already done. What do you think, Tall, Eerie, Silent?" Tall, Eerie, and Silent all gave him looks of what he figured to be extreme judgement, but then again, those were their defining traits. Tall was more long than tall, considering that he was a quadruped, but that mattered little. He was tall when he was on his hind legs, and that was all that mattered. Eerie looked like he'd walked through a forest fire – it showed in the metal joints welded together, making his movements jerky and unnatural. The edges of his costume were burnt and frayed, the rest of his suit heavily charred and damaged, even more so than the others. He had a habit of simply staring at people, gaze never wavering – Springtrap suspected that his eyelids had been burnt off long ago. And then there was Silent – he had no voice box, of that, Springtrap was very certain. But the rest of him was silent too – his machinery was smooth and fluid, not loud and clunky like the rest of them. The movements were graceful, almost humanlike, and if any sounds came from Silent, they were from the environment reacting to him, not the other way around. His eyes were like beacons, sweeping the area as the rest of his body, smooth and undamaged compared to the rest of them, stayed completely still.

"I have no clue what you're even speaking of," Sinister deadpanned as he looked back at the beacon – beautiful as it was, Springtrap couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit irritated. He was the center of attention.

"Likewise," Tall grumbled from his position.

"Narrow it down for us, would you?" Eerie wheezed sarcastically.

Silent just waggled his hand, grinning perpetually. Ugh. Typical.

"Eggel Hazahav," Springtrap clarified. "Golden boy's been stalling. Not getting his troops in order. Probably thinks it's funny." Funny? Pfft. Springtrap was mad, that was what he was. Not amused. Incompetent Demon King.

"I'm guessing that you're used to people doing whatever you tell them to do," Eerie said, making a sound which could have been a laugh, but also could have been his voice box failing. Fire damage could do that to you.

"Never have been, actually," Springtrap replied. "I'm under no illusion of my authority over others. No, what I'm used to is people following through when I call in my favours. As far as I'm concerned, the calf has yet to do so."

"His favour doesn't matter until the battle itself," Tall pointed out. "Until then, he has no obligation to fulfil." Springtrap shook his head. No, no, no. That simply wasn't right. That wasn't the way things worked – not for him.

"I'm going to talk to him," he announced, getting up. "Get some bloody results. You fuckers stay and watch the portal." Sinister snarled, taking a step forward, before he froze in place, foot digging itself into the soil. He stepped back, glaring vehemently. Good – he knew his place, then.

The woods had been dark, once. Full of shifting shadows and dark figures, solitary silhouettes meandering between the trees, cruel reaching claws off their own towards the sky. Now the beam was a constant source of illumination, casting rays of light upon every possible surface, those rays bouncing and reflecting off the surfaces until it was a large section of the forest which was constantly lit. Even if it had been dark, it would not have been a problem for him – Springtrap knew the path to Eggel Hazahav's altar well, the same way he knew the step-by-step instructions on disassembling a wandering unit or cleaning out a rusted springlock suit. It had simply become something he had done so regularly that he no longer needed to think in order to direct himself.

Although the Demonites had once been in hiding, now they roamed about without a care as to who saw them. Sitting under trees, traipsing through the occasional clearing, their heads held high and weapons at the ready. Waiting for the call.

They were strangely beautiful, with the way the light reflected off their bones, bouncing around on their insides before flying out again.

Stunning. Gorgeous.

Springtrap smiled to himself. It was good to appreciate the little things. He gave them an exaggerated wave – they responded with the middle finger. A classic, that. His head split open again, and the laughter was back. That dissonant, raucous laughter, echoing within the chamber of his head and torso as he clutched at his sides, the metal shell woven around him compounding the harsh noise.

Life is a never-ending comedy – you've just got to look at it a certain way to notice that.

He winked at them before continuing onwards to the altar, passing by the bonfires and the makeshift tower on his way. The camel demon was still there, frail and shaking on his legs. Another wave, but no response this time.

Pity.

And then, his altar. Enshrouded in light, shades of red and gold, the golden calf standing tall and proud on glimmering white marble.

A perfect throne for an ungrateful king.

Springtrap lay a hand against the altar and felt the connection take hold. A single thread of energy, bent and twisted across a path of multiple worlds, rebounded back towards him. He grasped that in his fingers, gave it a single gentle tug. A simple word.

Come.

The thread pushed back. Something responded, a vibration travelling along the line, across dimensions. Reeling back in, pulling itself along around the twists and turns, shooting off, back along the barrel.

Are you here?

The crunching of leaves under heavy feet, each step slow and purposeful.

Demon King?

The clink of metal against polished marble, claws raking against the stone.

Golden calf?

Are you there, Eggel Hazahav?

"Always." Springtrap felt himself smile, his face splitting open into the top and bottom segments. But no laughter bubbled up inside him.

It's cold.

"Must you always tower above me?" Springtrap whispered, but the humour was gone. He couldn't force any into his voice, even if he tried. Talks with Eggel Hazahav were business. Mask on. He looked up, past the false, mocking calf, to the true Eggel Hazahav. Perched above the mockery, claws tightening around the head as his glistening body leaned closer. His head was contorted, not quite that of a calf – more angular, reptilian. A flickering tongue, slits for eyes, maw lined with sharpened teeth.

"Must your pride be hurt by every minor offence?" the golden calf snarled, his neck stretching and elongating, until the flaps of skin were stretched to their very limit, the head hovering eye to eye with Springtrap. "You always have something to say. Small things, meaningful things, useless things. You always need to talk. Keep the attention. That's what makes you such a pain in the ass."

"One of many reasons, I'm sure," Springtrap drawled, tilting his head off to the side. He closed his eyes, letting his voice box play a sound akin to a sigh.

Time for business.

"I was told that I would receive results, Hazahav." He opened his eyes, glaring into the eyes of the gilded king. "I have been disappointed, thus far."

"I promised you fighters," Eggel Hazahav replied, his body drooping down lower to accommodate for the strain on his neck. "And you will receive those fighters."

"Fighters I have not yet seen," Springtrap hissed. He splayed out his fingers as the liquid metal ran over them, sharpened spikes busting from the digits. "You think me a fool, Hazahav? I know that you're stalling."

"Stalling? I keep my promises, Afton." The calf retracted his head, beginning to slink his way off the statue, claws fastening around white marble and pulling his body along. "You think I will fail on this?"

"I think you're trying to put me at as much of a disadvantage as possible," Springtrap responded truthfully. "So that when the fighting starts, you can get rid of me as quickly as possible." He sighed, shaking his head as Eggel Hazahav reached the floor. "See, here's the thing. That isn't going to work. I have… ambitions, yes. And you may think me a fool, but the truth is a far miss from that, Hazahav. I am no fool. No petty, idiotic warlord, hungry for power. I have plans. I have grand designs. And above all? I am mad. I am a madman. They might jeer at me, call me that as if it is an insult, but in truth, I see it as a compliment."

"That is only further proof of your madness." Eggel Hazahav gave Springtrap something which could have been a grin. "Proving them right, are you?"

"What I am telling you, Hazahav, is that your assumptions are incorrect." Springtrap raised his hand, showed Hazahav the spikes extending from his fingers, continuing to grow and curl downwards, becoming a row of sharpened hooks. "I will see these fighters, these warriors of yours. And you will bring them to me – now."

"Now?" the Demon King chuckled. "I promised that they would be here before the fight. I never specified when." Springtrap's mind raced, going through every possibility. Any way to force Hazahav to bring them now.

Ah.

Perhaps that would work.

Springtrap gave the gilded calf a smile, feeling the two segments of his head separate.

"Well, then you should get going, then," he said. "After all, the fight's about to start." Eggel Hazahav stared, face showing no emotion. He growled quietly, claws scratching away at the earth.

"Very well, then." The Demon King gave Springtrap a begrudging nod, taking a few steps back. "Well played, Afton." Springtrap nodded back, before he turned to the nearest clearing – Hazahav would go through with it. He was bound by his word, regardless of his moral standing.

Springtrap weaved between the trees, taking the quickest path back to the machine. The Demonites were standing now, eyeing him cautiously. One of them must have heard his conversation then. Spread the word. That was good – it meant he wouldn't have to wait so long.

The others were still standing around the machine, staring at it fixatedly. Sinister nodded in acknowledgement of his presence. Tall, Eerie, and Silent didn't seem to notice at first.

"Where are the others?" Springtrap asked irritably. There were still only four of them – that wasn't all of them.

"Off doing various tasks, of varying importance," Sinister replied promptly. "Night Terror is taking a walk. The Pit Demon is readying himself. The Corpse is sewing up his previous wounds."

"And the Octopus?" Springtrap cut in. It wasn't very funny, not at all. But it was the best thing he had thought up on the spot. 'Grabby' and 'Tentacles' were worse names.

"The Entrapment is hunting," Sinister said, his tone irritated.

"He needs to eat?"

"No, he does it for sport. I believe it to be a regular activity, for him."

Disgusting.

"We will be striking soon," Springtrap announced to them. He looked back to a certain clearing, the ground stained by numerous splashes of crimson blood. "But there is one more task, before that." He looked to the others, great and small, and extended a hand. "An old friend deserves a proper burial." None of them moved but Sinister, who took a careful step forward. Springtrap narrowed his eyes – the shard fed him something. Information, something which would resonate with them. Inwardly, he smiled. "He was one of us," he said calmly. "Another of the springlock suits. Possessed, from another world. I would have him be returned home. And I would ask you to assist me." Sinister was already approaching, but he was staring at the clearing, not at Springtrap. Good – he knew what was happening, then.

Silent was next, moving fluidly across the ground towards him, coming to stand beside him. The silent predator nodded in understanding, his jaw clacking open.

And then Eerie, hobbling his way over, his legs damaged and broken but not beyond use. He shuddered his way across to Springtrap, and in the that moment he could see the fire in his eyes, licking the insides of the costume as steam began to billow from the openings.

"Show us." Springtrap nodded at him.

"Thank you."

"Show us." He led them to the clearing, his footsteps deep and heavy. Tall lagged behind them, dragging himself along with his elephantine limbs, blood and sinew spilling out with every movement. Their path was lit by the beacon, reflecting off the dried blood sunken into the earth. The trees were dark, but the blood was glistening, gleaming with light. All the way to the body of a fallen friend, drenched in blood and his suit ingrained with dirt. His arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, the joint snapped and the segmented limb held together by loose threads. His face was frozen in an expression of pure agony, the eyelids wide open, jaw hanging low.

"Hello, old friend." Springtrap bent down to his knees, placing a hand on Scrap's forehead. "The times are rough, are they not?" Scrap didn't move. Springtrap sighed, stroking the spot, reminiscing. "I remember when we first met. It was this exact clearing – you'd been displaced. The result of a traveller's meddling. You never lost that hatred, did you?" he whispered. "No, no. You were always hungry. Always searching for answers." Springtrap clasped his friend's arm, felt the frail metal squeal as it shifted ever so slightly. "I promised you, once, that I would find a way to send you home." The rabbit smiled. "I have found that way, my friend. And you will be home before you know it." A moment of silence. Peace.

Springtrap's eyes snapped open, rolling in their sockets to meet Sinister's, kneeling on the other side of Scrap's body.

"Help me carry him," he said, and this time it was a request, not an order. But Sinister obliged, anyway. His claws dug underneath Scrap's body, searching for a suitable grip as Springtrap's metal-coated digits delicately curled around his friend's ruined arm. Silent moved forward, bending down and grasping one of Scrap's legs, still relatively undamaged. He nodded quickly at Springtrap, as Eerie closed in, a skeletal hand gripping the last of Scrap's limbs. Springtrap nodded at the three, then back at Tall, standing there beside them.

Thank you.

They walked in silence, Springtrap at the head, back bending from the strain. They trudged in complete unison, or they would have been, if not for the small scrapes and jolts from Eerie's twisted legs. Springtrap didn't blame him – that would have been useless, and he had no desire for uselessness.

When they returned to the machine, most of the others had returned from their various errands. The Night Terror clad in a golden bunny suit, square block teeth and a disturbing grin taking up half his face. The eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking, his pupils were mere pinpricks, and the whites of his eyes were entire glossy moons. The Pit Demon stood to the side, flickering between golden fur and dirtied green cloth, sharp fangs poking out of the maw in the place of teeth. He grinned at Springtrap as he approached with his load, giving him a small wave. Springtrap chuckled back.

The Corpse was brooding, needle in hand as he sewed together bits of separated flesh, his suit lost long ago. Only human flesh and metal skeleton remained, a patchwork frame for the metallic rabbit helm jammed upon his head.

And the Entrapment, as Sinister had so tastefully called him, a disturbing mimicry of Springtrap himself, but for the wiry, metallic tendrils unfurling from the openings in his suit. Blood stained his open jaw, his hands clutching rumpled bloodied feathers.

There were still some missing, but this mattered little. There plenty already watching. Springtrap looked down into his friend's empty eyes, muttering a silent prayer.

Godspeed, Scrap.

May you return home safely.

He looked across at the other three, gave them a small nod. Three nods answered back. They heaved as one, swung the body back, and then they threw. Scrap's body sailed through the air, disappearing into the funnel of light.

Springtrap relaxed his shoulders, staring into the light. He felt his face split into a solemn smile.

Peace be with you.

xXx

Springtrap's demands had been simple ones: 'Do not harm me or my allies.' 'Provide me with fighters for the upcoming battle.' And, of course, 'Do not assist the other side.'

These demands would, of course, die with him. And Springtrap would die. He was sure of that much. No leader enshrouded in such great arrogance had ever survived for very long. This battle would spell the end for Springtrap, and Eggel Hazahav would gleefully watch this unfold.

But Springtrap's second demand had not been very precise. He had asked for fighters to be provided, before the upcoming battle. Eggel Hazahav had already sprinkled one in – Sekh-Fathar, the six-legged camel. Springtrap, intelligent as he claimed to be, had not noticed that Sekh-Fathar was loyal to Eggel Hazahav, not him.

Incompetent fool.

But Springtrap had forced his hand. The fight would start soon, and he was expecting results. He wanted to see these demons, who would supposedly be loyal to him. And this was a problem. For those demons had yet to arrive at the camp. Eggel Hazahav would have to collect them himself.

But first – collecting Sekh-Fathar. Perhaps he could assist in the finding of his comrades.

The camel was still sitting in the clearing when Eggel Hazahav found him, legs splayed out like a spider's, head drooping towards the ground, apparently asleep.

Sekh-Fathar was never asleep, however. He was always awake, always watching.

No sooner did Sekh-Fathar rise than did Eggel Hazahav take one step into the clearing. The look he received was one of compassion. Joy.

"Eggel Hazahav," Sekh-Fathar intoned.

"Sekh-Fathar," the Demon King replied. "Good times for you, I hope."

"On the contrary. Springtrap does not know when to stop."

"As is to be expected. Walk with me?"

"Of course." Sekh-Fathar waited for Eggel Hazahav to near, before falling into step beside him. The size difference between them was laughable, but neither of them thought anything of it. It mattered little, after all.

"Springtrap is about to begin to attack," Eggel Hazahav said after they had moved a sizeable distance away from the clearing. "But the others have yet to arrive."

"Problematic."

"Yes. Of course, this means that I will have to round them up myself. Although, I would have you join me, on this venture."

"Of course, of course. For how many do we search, Hazahav?"

"A mere few – several have already arrived. Fret not, Sekh-Fathar."

"I shall begin at once, then." Sekh-Fathar's eyes rolled back into his head, the way they always would when he began to track. And then he moved. One limb in front of the other, Eggel Hazahav following close behind as the demon in front led the way.

It was ten whole minutes before they came upon the first of them. A rolling pile of purple sludge, covered in poisonous quills ready to blast off at a moments notice was the first – Hematiko, of the domain of venoms. Next the vulture, neck composed of metallic vertebrae, wings of silver and crimson, beak a pointed blade, tipped with poison. Venetrex soared down from his perch, wings flapping frantically before settling down on Sekh-Fathar's back. Then Anterieh the vain, the flamingo. Her feathers streaked with black, neck bent back over the body for manoeuvrability.

"Is that all?" Sekh-Fathar asked when Anterieh had climbed upon his back with the other, Eggel Hazahav trailing behind.

"Aggolorak will have arrived by now," the Demon King murmured to himself. "We will turn back now."

"Of course." Sekh-Fathar dipped his head obediently, before quickly swivelling around and stalking back to the camp at full speed. Venetrex squawked, flapping his wings as he was almost pushed off by the resistance of the air, Eggel Hazahav leaping after them. It took only half an hour for them to return to the camp.

Springtrap was waiting for them, his eyes assessing as he scanned the demons over with incredible scrutiny.

"These weren't the only ones," he concluded. "There were more, weren't there?"

"Of course."

"Clever. I won't even know which ones are loyal to you, and which are loyal to me." Springtrap gave him a mocking smile. "Tragic." Eggel Hazahav looked back at Sekh-Fathar, who was already trudging away. Good. He didn't want his demons near Springtrap.

"I have been hearing things," he said, when there were no more in earshot. "About something you possess."

"Something I possess?"

"A book."

"Ah. You speak of Belial's."

"Yes." Eggel Hazahav narrowed his eyes. "Is this true?"

"What if it is?" Springtrap asked drily. "It doesn't affect you, now, does it?"

"That book does not belong to you."

"Nor to you."

"Perhaps. But it belongs in the hands of a demon, not a mere spirit."

"You have no hands," Springtrap pointed out lazily. "Your point is moot, Hazahav."

"Do not play games with me, monster. If I could, I would strike you down for your insolence."

"But you can't." Springtrap grinned at him. "You're bound by heavenly law. As long as this pact between us exists, you can't do anything to hurt me."

"No, not directly," Eggel Hazahav agreed. "And not intentionally. But you will die soon, Springtrap."

"Laughable." Springtrap smirked. "I will not be the one dying today."

"Oh, you will be," Hazahav hissed. "The cocky ones always fall first. And then, I will have that book."

"Tell you what. Another favour for the book," Springtrap suggested. "Yes?"

"Bastard." Springtrap's face split into those two segments, top and bottom, and the raucous laughter began to fill the air. Eggel Hazahav watched him stumble his way to the front line, still giggling maniacally.

"Send them out!" Springtrap roared. "Send them out! All of them!" There was confusion, mistrust. Objection. None of this mattered. Soon the army was rumbling ahead into the land of spikes and bones, as Springtrap stood there, laughing into his palm.