Umbra stood perfectly still at the center of the room, staring intensely down at the humans gathered around her. She did not move, not even to shift her weight, holding herself rigid like a statue carved from blackened metal. Her claws were clasped neatly behind her back, more out of discipline than politeness.
This meeting had been part of the compromise. If she wanted access to resources, authority, and freedom of movement, she would need to speak directly to the highest levels of this nation’s leadership. That included several ministers, advisors, and the Prime Minister herself—Haley Straffield.
“And can you prove these claims?” Haley asked, folding her hands together on the table.
Umbra bit back a hiss. She had spent the past two hours explaining the situation in painstaking detail, repeating herself over and over in different ways, trying to make them understand the severity of what was coming. At this point, she felt like she was speaking to a room full of bumbling fools who could not grasp the weight of the words she was saying.
To their credit, her appearance had not become the insurmountable obstacle she had feared. In fact, she suspected it had accelerated several decisions. It was hard to dismiss someone who looked like an impossible creature made real, standing in the middle of a government chamber as if she belonged there.
“You will have to take my word for it, Ms. Straffield,” Umbra said tightly. “I have spent ten years hunting this creature across realms. Success only came very recently, and even that was incomplete.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “I strongly recommend that you take my word for it. We have, at most, a month before this situation grows entirely out of hand. Either I am leading you on a wild goose chase and wasting a few million in expenditure, or the world is saved.”
There was a brief silence.
“It’s just that the materials you’ve requested are very expensive,” one of the ministers said cautiously.
Umbra’s gaze snapped to him. She glared, hard and unblinking. The man visibly shrank back in his seat, suddenly finding the table far more interesting than her face. It was refreshing, finally being in a room where she could make full use of her presence.
“Some of you earn that much in a single year,” Umbra said evenly. “I do not wish to hear complaints about expense when I am well aware that there are always homeless people on the streets of Wellington.” She paused again, slowly surveying the room, her eyes lingering on each official in turn. “Should I find a way to cross realms under my own power, I will donate a portion of my wealth from my fief to the people of this city. Is this acceptable?”
“That is acceptable,” Haley said after a moment.
“Good,” Umbra replied. She turned and tapped a claw against a large map laid out on the table. “Our priority is locating the Witch’s corpse. I know it fell to this world alongside me, yet I’ve not yet heard of any credible sightings that have been reported. Assuming you are not omitting any details from me, then that means it is hiding.” Her claws traced a slow path across the map. “It will attempt to raise an army. I know this because the goddesses who guide me have made it very clear that killing the Witch does not end her. Her divine essence must be fully eradicated.”
“Then how do we find this… corpse?” another official asked.
“Watch for reports of missing people,” Umbra said immediately. “Especially in secluded areas. Forests. Hills. Trails. Also, look beyond the city itself. The Witch will not limit herself to humans alone. Animals will suffice at first. Monsters made from people are smarter and more dangerous, but bodies are bodies.”
She straightened slightly. “If possible, use military assets for scouting. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. An unblessed bullet will do nothing. These creatures can regenerate from most forms of trauma.” She paused. “And no, I do not believe your local religions can bless weapons in a way that would matter.”
“Why?” Haley asked.
“Because I do not know if the gods worshipped on this world actually exist,” Umbra replied plainly. “I only know of the Triumvirate—the Goddesses of Truth, Justice, and Harvest—and the Dark Goddess, the Witch of the Void. I do not deal in maybes.” She folded her arms. “I can offer minor blessings to those I work with, but for now, assume that anyone sent to investigate will stand little chance if they confront it directly. Scouting will be key.”
“I see,” Haley said slowly. “And what do the materials you requested have to do with this?”
“While your forces investigate suspicious areas,” Umbra said, “I will perform a ritual to track the accursed creature. It will take a full day to prepare and cast. The results will be imprecise, however, so any information you gather will help narrow the scope. With both efforts combined, we have a chance.”
“Fine,” Haley Straffield said at last, the decision seeming to settle over the room like a weight. “We will cooperate. The forces that were called in under emergency authority should have arrived in Wellington by now. The materials you requested were… difficult to procure,” she admitted carefully, “but we expect everything to be delivered within a few hours. Including the deer.”
There was a faint discomfort in the room at that last word.
Umbra simply nodded once. “Very good.” Her voice carried easily in the chamber without her needing to raise it. “I will require a location where I may conduct the ritual in private. It must be isolated, as I need to be undisturbed. I will allow a few spectators, but they must be silent while I cast the spell. I do not wish for distractions mid-incantation.” She paused, scanning the faces before her. “Are there any other questions?”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
“Are you a demon?”
Every head in the room turned toward the source of the voice.
The speaker was a woman in what Umbra assumed was her early sixties, dressed in a professional blue blazer and pencil skirt. Her posture was rigid, her lips thin and a small silver cross hung around her neck, which she now clutched tightly in her hand.
Umbra tilted her head slightly.
“Are you asking,” she replied slowly, “if I am a fallen angel of the Abrahamic faith?”
The woman’s gaze hardened. “Yes.”
There was a long pause.
Umbra stared at her without blinking. The silence stretched, growing uncomfortable. Then, suddenly, Umbra’s mouth split open into a wide grin, far too wide for a human face. Several officials physically recoiled in their seats.
A horrible, rasping laugh tore its way from her throat.
It echoed against the walls.
A few people flinched.
After a moment, Umbra raised a clawed hand. “My apologies,” she said, though her voice still carried remnants of dark amusement. “I find that question immensely entertaining.”
She straightened slightly. “I am married to an angel,” she continued. “A true one. She is pure, kind, and embodies what most in this world would likely imagine when they think of angels. She is, in every sense, radiant.”
Her laughter faded entirely, replaced with something firmer.
“As for myself,” Umbra went on, “I suppose you could argue that I resemble what you would call a demon. In body, perhaps. Not in mind nor allegiance.” Her claws flexed once behind her back. “The creature I hunt—the Witch of the Void—did this to me during my crusade against her. Twisted my form as punishment and mockery.”
She paused, letting the weight of that settle.
“If you require an equivalent,” she said, her voice lowering, “you may consider the Witch the closest thing your theology would label ‘The Devil.’ She is not the origin of all evil, but she is evil incarnate.”
Umbra’s gaze locked onto the woman holding the cross.
“So no. I am not a demon in the way you understand the term. I am not a fallen angel. I am a former human with a cursed body. And I remain a champion for the forces of good.” Her voice hardened. “Of that, I am certain.”
The woman hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the cross.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, though there was more uncertainty in her tone now than conviction.
Umbra’s expression flattened immediately.
“And I do not care,” she replied evenly.
The bluntness of it seemed to suck the remaining air out of the exchange.
She looked around the room again, her gaze sweeping over ministers, aides, and the Prime Minister alike.
“Any more questions?” she asked. “Important ones. I would prefer to resolve this matter quickly. The sooner I begin the ritual, the sooner I can end this threat.”
A faint pause.
“And,” she added, quieter but no less intense, “the sooner I may begin finding a way back home.”
“No, I think that is it, Mrs. Forsythe.” Said haley.
“Very good. Then find me a room and bring me the materials.”