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squarehammersupremacy · 4 months

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Chapter Four: "I know your weakness. Its kisses. You're doomed."

This night there had been a multitude of things that had gone wrong. Terzo was supposed to watch Copia, but he fell asleep and Copia accidentally tried to burn the house down (Terzo was now grounded, and was pouting in his room), Secondo was caught making out on the sofa and was told to go to his room before things went south (literally), and Primo had driven off mysteriously (he went away to get away from all the chaotic energy and gotten a stern talking to from Sister).

Currently, Sister was plopped down on the couch (the second one in the living room, not the one that Secondo used), her hand over her face as she ranted to her glass of wine. Then, the door to the house opened, and there was Nihil. Sister's eyes popped as she sat up, her eyes boring into him, "where the hell were you?" Nihil raised a brow, and he chuckled as he kicked off his shoes, and then threw his jacket on the floor. He walked past the couch and into the kitchen. That was it, she had had it, "you put your jacket and shoes where they belong!" she cried out, throwing her wine glass on the ground. It shattered, and it shocked her out of her temper.

Nihil walked back in to see Sister kneel to pick up the shattered wine glass, a sob escaping her lips. He frowned as he walked to her, placing a hand on her back, "sweetheart, come here," Sister stood, and he wrapped his arms around her. She began to sob into his chest, her arms grasping onto the material of his shirt. Nihil directed them to the couch, and she curled up on the couch, laying her head in his lap, "now, what's got my pretty girl all upset?"

Sister sniffs, her hand coming up to wipe gently at her nose, "it's just been so stressful. Copia almost set the house aflame, and Secondo was getting to third base on the-" she looked down at the color of the couch, and then quickly got up, "-on the couch. Nihil, get up." he quickly stood, and she directed him to the other couch, and back into their positions.

"Our terrible children have been giving you a run for your money, eh?" Sister scoffs, but she then sighs and nods her head.

"It's hard to parent kids that are taller than you," Nihil laughs at this, "I'm serious! I had to scold Primo, and he's like a head taller than me. I made him sit so I could have the advantage." Sister thinks about the whole day, and the sigh that follows makes Nihil frown in sympathy.

"I know your weakness." Sister sits up, her eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Nihil grins, his hand moving to move her hair from her face. He leans in close and gives her a peck on the forehead.

"I know your weakness," another kiss, but on her cheek, "it's kisses," kiss on her other cheek, "you're doomed." a kiss is pressed against her lips. Sister leans into it, her eyes closing as one of Nihil's hands cups her face.

They pull away after a long second, and Sister is smiling, "you're corny." he rolls his eyes and his hands move to rest against her waist.

"I know another weakness, my sweet," Nihil's fingers dig into her sides as he begins to tickle her, and Sister yelps as she tries not to laugh, "you can't resist tickles!"

"Ah-! Nihil-ha!" Sister starts to giggle, and Nihil laughs with her, and then a door opens.

"Can I come out now?" Nihil stops and they look over the couch, and standing there is their little Copia.

"Come here, little tyke," Copia enters the room and settles down on the couch, "you had an interesting day today, didn't you?" their son looks a little guilty, and then Sister places a hand on her son's head.

"It's OK, Copi," Sister speaks softly to her youngest son, "go tell your brothers to come here." Copia nods his head and obeys his mother's wishes, and soon four sets of footsteps enter both Sister and Nihil's ears. Sister stands and Nihil follows, the parents standing on one side while the kids are on the other, "first of all, I would like to apologize if I was rude or snippy."

"I think we kinda deserved it, mother," Primo speaks first, "I can't speak for my brothers, but I apologize." Sister smiles softly and nods, and Primo steps back. Secondo moves a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"If it makes you feel any better, I totally had protection!" Nihil snickers, and Sister shuts him up with a pointed look.

"Secondo, while I'm glad you are practicing safe sex, please take it to your bedroom, not on the couch, yes?" he nods in agreement, and steps back next to Primo, who smacks him in the back of his head. Secondo curses, glaring at his older brother.

Terzo is left, and he stands there, hands behind his back, "Terzo?"

"It was not right to fall asleep while watching that little shit," Sister rolls her eyes and goes to open her mouth, "I'm sorry." her mouth closes, and she nods once.

"Thank you, Terzo," Terzo gives her two thumbs-up and steps back, "Copi, just don't try to set the house on fire." Copia smiles up at Sister, and she pats his head again.

"Alright, who's up for going out for dinner tonight?!"

With that, the Emeritus household went out for dinner, all getting along (for the most part).

#the band ghost #ghost bc #papa nihil #primo emeritus #secondo emeritus #terzo emeritus #copia emeritus #emeritus family

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kabukiaku · 8 months

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finally....the crossover that was meant to be.

#my art #omega ghoul #terzomega #terzo #papa emeritus iii #the addams family #morticia addams #gomez addams #terzo x omega #crossover #halloween #spooky

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spillsways · 6 months

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spillways really is THAT song for me. like the whole “fuck forgiveness let yourself be bitter and you’re allowed to feel that way AND it’s okay to be angry and even though you try to bury that shit deep inside of you and move on IT’S OKAY TO LET IT OUT and be PISSED” vibe of the song hits directly home. that shit really does just resonate so much with my trauma

#at least that’s how i interpret the song for myself #i could be wrong but idk #it hits me right in the mommy and daddy issues #bc i try so hard to be the bigger person even though they’ve hurt me and traumatized me in indescribable ways #and that anger and utter resentment will never leave my soul #but i will never ever forgive them #and i’m okay with that #bc fuck forgiving your abusers to ‘move on’#i don’t play that game #sometimes you can’t forgive people for the things they’ve done #even your family #bayli rambles #the band ghost #ghost #spillways #papa emeritus iv #copia

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theroyalsandi · 6 months

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Japanese Imperial Family - Emperor Emeritus Akihito and Empress Emerita Michiko strolling through the Akasaka imperial grounds in Minato-ku, Tokyo | October 6, 2023

#royaltyedit #theroyalsandi #emperor emeritus akihito #empress emerita michiko #akihito x michiko 2023 #akihito x michiko gif #akihito x michiko gif 2023 #akihito x michiko oct 2023 #japanese 2023 #japanese gif #japanese gif 2023 #japanese oct 2023 #oct 2023 #2023 #japanese imperial family #my gif

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quaildoodle · 9 months

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sometimes its best not to draw everything that pops into your head

#the band ghost #ghost #cardinal copia #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv #commissions open #popia #copia #papa emeritus #family guy

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gravesrising · 1 year

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“Joining us so soon? ‘Papa’?”

#his siblings pay him a visit! family bonding :)#I imagine Copia has a lot of nightmares similar to this...#GravesRising #the band ghost #ghost the band #ghost bc #ghost #papa emeritus #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #copia #cardinal copia #horror #spooky

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tanukibby · 28 days

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Okay... I gave Omega and Terzo an adopted daughter. Her name is Tempest, and she's an air ghoul kit.

She drags nesting material into omega's pouch when it's time for naps or bed.

And she has a lot to say about Terzo's singing, as in chirping and squawking during practice. Someone hand her a mic.

She hates Mummy Dust because it doesn't sound like her Papa. She doesn't like the growl in his voice.

She is their baby, and they love her to death.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost band #ghost #ghost bc #headcanon #omega ghost #omega ghoul #ghost oc #papa emeritus iii #terzomega #terzo emeritus #they have a child now because i say so #found family

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vespillodeus · 8 months

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found this little guy on the street, his band apparently has some hit songs as: prime meower, meowmy dust and meowsma

.... is this the satanic pope dude y'all have been talking about?

#he still needs clothes #the band ghost #ghost #ghost fanart #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #sylvanian families #calico critters

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osiris-iii-bc · 6 months

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Whole Emeritus family Headcanons (backgrounds)

I’ve added a new WIP to my long-Fics projects and this one will be focused on the teen years of the Emeritus brothers and why, at a certain point, it became evident that they needed separate rooms. So I have finally developed my background headcanons for each one of them (+ Nihil and Sister Imperator bonus). I think I could extend their HC for specific topics in the next future.

The Sister Imperator one is, surprisingly, the one that came out more naturally. Feel free to discuss about these 👇🏻

Primo

Being 15 years older than Secondo and Terzo, he mostly spent his teenage years alone, but he was also the only one who had the chance to meet his birth mother, even if it was only for a few years. She was one of the fans Nihil had an affair with when playing with the first Ghost. She chose not to be part of the Ministry and agreed to leave Primo with Nihil, ensuring him an heir.

During his youth, he grew tall and slender, developing in an elegant figure. Despite his appearance being cold and severe, he had a soft heart, and was deeply focused on his duties.

Undoubtedly the most diligent and educated of the three brothers, he was well-behaved and respectful. From a young age, Nihil imposed strict education on him, treating him as an adult even when he was just a child. He claims he has no memories of regular childhood games or playtime, only recalling his religious and black magic studies.

Of the three brothers, he was perhaps the only one who genuinely felt a deep devotion to the Church, earning the ironic nickname 'The Saint' from his brothers.

He seemed blind to girls' advances, or simply uninterested, to the extent that Secondo and Terzo believed he was still a virgin, having never seen him with a girl... until, at around 31 (for him), they finally caught him with a lady in their room. This was the most embarrassing event for him and the funniest for his other two brothers.

He didn't spare his brothers from his strictness but was never cruel to them. His intention was for them to behave and be prepared for their future rule. Secondo and Terzo understood that even his harshest comments were for their betterment, as it was his only means of expressing himself.

He remained reserved throughout his life, making it difficult for his brothers to understand his thoughts or interests. He seemed like a product shaped by Nihil's will, with his primary interest lying in the cult and maintaining righteousness. Rarely did he allow himself to relax with laughter and enjoyment.

He was the one who discovered the 'Seven inches of 'Satanic Panic' EP in Nihil’s office and shared it with his brothers, initiating the decision to resurrect the Ghost project and summon the band Ghouls.

Secondo

He was notably tall and strongly built, starting to shave his head at a young age and engaging in exercise to gain muscle, bestowing upon him a striking appearance. He was the favorite among girls until Terzo began to realize the potential of his own charisma.

Only three months older than Terzo, they grew up like twins, developing an exceptionally close bond, despite frequent fights and arguments, typical of real brothers. However, a good laugh and conversation could mend any conflict in a short time. As they matured, their relationship evolved into one of mutual respect and admiration.

Neither he nor Terzo remember their biological mothers. They were too young when Sister Imperator chose to return to the Ministry, and no one ever disclosed what happened to their birth mothers. Sister Imperator - apart their nanny - was the only maternal figure they knew.

He officially established the Sisters of Sin order during his papacy.

Of the three, he could be deemed the most robust and composed, despite their education and hardships. He grew resilient enough not to let his past taint his future, endeavoring to relish every moment of his youth. The weight of his past visited him only later, in his old days.

His fascination with black magic developed later in life, gradually becoming his core interest. He incorporated this passion into his music.

He and Primo shared such a strong resemblance in appearance, with similar facial structures and noses, that they suspected being brothers from the same mother. They never knew if it was true.

He was the most relieved when asked to renounce the papacy. Although music and popularity had been rewarding, he didn’t mind retiring and returning to his interests without the pressure from above. His sole regret was not receiving the acclaim he deserved for the exceptional album Infestissumam was.

Terzo

Even if Sister Imperator was the only woman he had called mother, he and Secondo were mostly raised by an older nun who was particularly affectionate to him; She affectionately referred to him as her 'little prince,' a nickname later adopted by his brothers. She provided the maternal tenderness that Sister Imperator lacked, becoming the person he sought for comfort or advice, offering a hug whenever needed.

His teenage years were undoubtedly the darkest and most troubled. He was solitary and reticent from a young age, seeking solace in metal music and poetry, but unable to fill the internal void except by being cruel to the weaker individuals, such as the orphans of the Ministry. Copia in particular, due to an inexplicable attraction force, was his primary victim. While he might have later recognized this as a projection of his own orphaned background, he refused to admit it.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t always the most sought after among his brothers, despite being strikingly beautiful. He was considered too sensitive and enigmatic by girls, his beauty too particular, dark and delicate that managed to attract only a small target of girls (and a considerable part of boys), with others preferring the more conventional appeal of Secondo; Yet, his presence invariably captured attention whenever he entered a room. However, things changed with maturity as his demeanor evolved and grew stronger. Surprisingly, he found that the more he adopted a somewhat haughty and snobbish attitude, the more attractive he became.

He began using makeup after realizing that his musical idols did the same. Starting with black nail polish and kajal, he eventually experimented with dark lipsticks, primarily during parties or private gatherings.

Prohibited from developing a healthy emotional and sentimental side, he, like others destined for the papacy, was strongly advised against engaging in loving and stable relationships that could detract from their paths. This rule affected him more deeply due to his sensitive nature, stunting his emotional growth. This, however, didn't prevent him from forming at least a healthy and free relationship with sex. Potential romantic involvements often crumbled due to his obsessive and controlling behavior, stemming from his struggles to control his feelings; This later developed in chronic anxiety. He managed to soften that side of him with time, returning to a distinctive romanticism.

He wasn't a top-performing student but possessed a different kind of intuition and extensive knowledge in his preferred subjects. He was just too easily distracted to listen to someone explain boring stuff in a boring way.

He would not consider himself a feticist, just… curious. His weak points in bodies are wrists and ankles. He likes them thin.

Copia

Despite being the only biological son of Nihil and Sister Imperator, his fate was the most arduous among his brothers. He was condemned to live as an orphan within the Ministry until his Papacy.

Shy and introverted, he made earnest attempts to gain acceptance, yet consistently met with failure, which left him disheartened and caused him to abandon further efforts.

His challenging childhood did not mold him into a cruel or unstable individual. On the contrary, it fostered a profound sense of empathy and sensitivity, especially towards those considered less valuable, both people and animals, such as rats.

His affinity for these creatures began when he rescued a rat ensnared in a glue trap in the Ministry garden. He cares for the creature in secret until he could request a proper cage to keep it.

That first rat was then killed by Terzo’s cat. He swears to have seen Terzo wait for him to arrive and watch while he gave Bastet the go to attack, but was never believed and that episode just fell under “incident” label. That episode deeply scar him until adulthood.

He put all his efforts into study and the goal to become a prominent personality in the Ministry. He looked at the Emeritus brothers with admiration and desire to demonstrate his worth one day, even if his introversion and insecurities often worked against him.

He enjoyed spending time looking at the illustrations in the animal encyclopedia. Occasionally, he'd jot down notes and sketches in his notebook. He still has some of those notes.

To his surprise, his clumsy ways started to gain unexpected success with girls, in his youth. He discovered that some girls preferred harmless and amusing individuals over dominant alpha males. However, his insecurities tempered his confidence, and he typically allowed the girls to take the lead in romantic advances. When he asked a girl why she liked him, she simply answered, “You're not scary like the other guys. You're sweet and funny, and I feel like I could tear you apart and eat your insides, not the other way around.” He cherished and treasured that comment

His first time with a boy was quite easier than with a girl, for him. He just felt less anxious.

He had a secret crush on Terzo for a long time, despite the treatment he received by him. He probably realized his bisexuality by looking at him. Discovering their shared parentage was quite an awkward moment.

When he was promoted following Terzo's removal, he experienced an explosive boost in confidence; however, it didn't endure for too long.

Sister Imperator

During her youth, she immersed herself in the Summer of Love movement, becoming a groupie for numerous rock bands between the 1960s and 1970s. Her association with satanism began upon meeting Anton LaVey and Kenneth Anger at one of their parties and even took part in their Witches Sabbath.

She had several relationships, all failed very badly. Despite being a beautiful, strong woman, she lacked emotional intelligence and always fell like strong women fall: fast, hard and for the wrong guys.

Her on-and-off relationship with Nihil persisted for years. Despite leaving the Ministry multiple times due to his unreliability, she always forgave the unforgivable. Eventually, she permanently returned, even accepting to take care of his children, as she realized she had no alternative place to go for herself and her son, finding no other solace beyond the confines of the cult.

The person she became in her later years was a product of the disillusionment that consumed her after her relationship with Nihil failed, compounded by postpartum depression following the birth of Copia. A beautiful, lively, and strong girl transformed into an empty shell, teeming with hatred and resentment. After Nihil, she was undoubtedly not the same woman she once was. In a way she was unable to explain, she found herself unable to resist loving and remaining devoted to him.

When discovering she was pregnant of Nihil she felt happy and couldn’t wait to tell him, until she had the final proof of what a twat he was. She had genuinely hoped for a chance to settle down after a life of excesses and failed tales. She made the decision not to disclose the existence of Copia to him and spent years trying to recover from that significant letdown. She vowed to herself never to place trust in another person again.

Despite her libertine life and being into BDSM, all she secretly hoped for was a romantic love and a family.

She named her son Copia in the hope he would grow looking like Nihil. In her delusional fantasies during postpartum depression, she swore that if she could not have the love of his man, she would have the one of their son. A mini version of him that, it turned out, didn’t resemble him in anything. To her horror and surprise, the only sons that really resembled Nihil turned out to be the first three he had with other women.

Some say she used to sneak into the orphans rooms at night to quietly talk or sing to Copia in his sleep in his first years. Sometimes she was seen crying on his bed, repeating to herself that all she was doing was for his protection.

Nihil

Nihil wasn't inherently a bad man; he was brimming with good intentions that, unfortunately, he couldn't fulfill. Strangely, he seemed to consistently squander the positive opportunities the universe presented to him, including the Ghost band, despite being a talented musician and composer.

He met Sister Imperator when performing at a satanic party organized by LaVey and Anger in the 60’s. She led him into the cult and into BDSM.

In creating Ghost, he followed the path of the emerging rock bands of the '60s, drawing inspiration mainly from Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Like Jimmy Page, he held deep admiration for Aleister Crowley, even claiming that Satan himself directed him to form the band.

His genuine love for Sister Imperator endured throughout his life, but his emotional disconnect and inability to take things seriously ultimately led to the downfall of their relationship. He struggled to express the depth of his affection for her.

Upon assuming the role of Papa, he focused solely on the persona, using it as a shield to avoid any emotional entanglements, and this emotional evasion intensified over time.

He always neglected his responsibilities, including parenting and, were it not for Sister Imperator's assistance, he might have faltered in his papal role too.

While Primo was coming to life, he was cheating his mother with another groupie. Being still too drunk to think about a better name, he just named him by the first thing that came in his mind. The other two names went by naturally.

In his later years, he was gradually marginalized, losing any substantial influence on the papacy of his heirs. Sister Imperator gained complete control over the Clergy and his son's fate without him even realizing.

He only vehemently opposed Terzo's and Copia's promotions, deeming them unsuitable for the role.

#the band ghost #ghost headcanons #the band ghost fanfiction #emeritus family #Papa emeritus #papa emeritus I #papa emeritus II #papa emeritus lll #copia #papa emeritus iv #sister imperator #papa nihil #primo emeritus #secondo emeritus #terzo emeritus #Emeritus family background headcanons

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virtual-vermin · 10 months

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Art dump 9/???

Papa Emeritus: Terzo!! ^^

I love this piece and, even though it’s rather aged, I am so proud of it!

#daonionart #old art #art dump #papa emeritus lll #papa terzo #band ghost #ghost band art #WHY IS THIS GETTING SO MUCH ATTENTION GUYS CHILL #I HAVE A FAMILY #IM SCARED

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squarehammersupremacy · 2 years

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I am obsessed with your modern au! I love the family fluff it make me so happy, I get so happy when people write them having a good dynamic

I'm so sorry this is so late!!!

Thank you so much, I wasn't sure if it would be good on the first post, but I appreciate all the love!!

The next part is coming out soon!!

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #can you tell i love ghost #ghost family #emeritus family

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callmemamaemeritus · 2 months

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The Halloween Piece I created as part of a Ghost art Collab - mash up of The Addams Family and Ghost - what more can you ask for!? …and what’s that Terzo Wednesday is holding? 🤭

Plus the amazing Liz Fenning actually commented and liked this on IG and I utterly fangirled!!! 🥰🖤

#the band ghost #ghost band fanart #ghost copia #papa emeritus iv #the addams family #the ghost family #halloween #halloween art #ghost band #sister imperator #papa nihil #papa terzo

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revelisms · 1 month

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Antichrist Copia theory has overtaken me yall. I was not expecting to crank out a full thing on this, but, uh...if you're looking for one big indulgent braindump on Terzo trying to unpack his feelings on this while Copia gets possessed by a demon, look no further?

Quick context setting—I'm still working out these headcanons a bit, but what I'm generally tinkering with here:

Everyone tied to the Emeritus bloodline has some degree of magical abilities, which were formally "awakened" in an oath-taking ceremony at a point in the boys' childhood. This is the Sight mentioned here (i.e., whatever is up with the white eye), and each of the brothers have a slightly different angle for it: Primo can see into the minds of living things, Secondo can see into the past, Terzo can see into the future, and Copia can see into the realm that bridges life and death—and is somewhat a literal bridge, himself, between those planes of reality.

The Exaltation ceremony is a formal handoff from each Papa to the next heir, in which their Sight is tapped to its greatest potential in preparation for becoming head of the church. This typically involves a delivery of rites, a magical blessing, and an opening of the Gate between worlds (which, in this context, is technically Hell itself).

Basically: mayhem ensues.

here we lie

4k words | Rating: M | Terzo-Centric | Antichrist Copia | CWs: Ritual magic, dark imagery, near-death experience, blood, language, existentialism, doomed fate, whump, anger issues, dysfunctional family dynamics, hurt/comfort. Also on AO3

The exaltation ceremony goes wrong.

By all accounts, it shouldn't have.

As with any long-standing traditions of the church, the ritual had been perfected to the scrape of dust one was allowed to wear on their boots—and, as such, had been prepared with the expected flurry of pomp and circumstance.

The esteemed Monsignor Emeritus, firstborn, blessed with the Sight, had cleansed the air thrice with dishes of althea and frankincense and bistort: enhancements for protection and divination.

Sister Mariella, well-familiar with the customs, had laid down the sigils for the Gate flawlessly: shadowed by the slow-prowled growlings and page-turned rites of Secondo Emeritus, Archbishop of the Eternal Light.

The ceremony, as was custom, was set to be led by the head of the church: their Exalted, sheened in black from neck to toe, the points of his clawed gloves glinting in the lowlight—for whom the Sight of premonition had seemed both a blessing and a curse, and never more so than now.

He was distracted, perhaps. Dehydrated, maybe. Dreading the moment he would stand at the door to the realm beyond—a threshold of time and space untethered—that would soon devour the faceless flesh-form of a ghoul cast back to the shadow (his One, his All, his own); a door he himself, in time, would one day find himself crossing, with body and soul split, head and neck cleaved, heart and mind shattered.

From the moment he'd slopped a spoon through the breakfast his secretary had slid on his desk that morning, he'd known, instinctually, that this damned thing could turn so haywire, if only because he'd been the one shackled with it.

His jittery magic, his restless brain, and Copia—

Well.

Copia has been anything but normal, from the day Sister carted him up the chapel steps.

Terzo knew he had magic—the likes of which few could fathom, even from his sticky-fingered child days. The night the little rat had taken his oaths, the air had sung with it: a strange buzz of sensation that felt like the sun had tipped off-center.

And now—

Now, the Gate is laid open beneath Terzo's hands, the unseen ink of his spell-marks glowing a blood-lilac fuchsia, bright enough to glare violently through his clothes, and the void of Hell itself screaming in its glory—and Copia is not imbued with the Dark One's majesty, as he should be—is no man, is not living, has flames for eyes and claws for teeth and wings like the undead and is screaming—

"Close it," Secondo snarls at him, a blurred tower of shadow and piercing white—

—and Terzo knew this.

Knew this boy-man-beast-hellspawn of Christ-Shadow Beholden always was.

He'd looked him in the eye—kneeled there in the cat's cradle of a pentagram scraped in chalk, hands fidgeting at his cassock—and gave a crook of his head: murled, Ready? like a tease, though some part of him had meant it as, You'll be alright, eh?

But unblessed saints and demons below, Copia isn't.

What writhes before him now is a creature that terrifies him to the bone—one that may not abandon his brother completely, should he fail at this any farther than he already has.

"Terzo." Primo, now: an urgent hiss at his shoulder. "Close the gate—"

"I know." His magic burns at his fingertips, sears through his blood. "That—thing hasn't released him—"

A thing with claws cradling Copia's head like ceramic a hairline from shattering, spitting a pained growl through his teeth.

The sacrament in Mariella's hand shakes. "Papa, what's...?"

"I don't know." The flamelight flickers unnaturally against the domed walls: a great breath that lapses to darkness, sparks back again. "Shit, I—I don't know."

"Terzo—"

"Close the gate—"

"Hell Satan—will you all shut up?!"

There are horns in Copia's hair, slick-red-gold between his grappling fingers.

His stomach is in his head. His brain in his feet.

Mariella swallows. She's always been a strong soul—far more than him, now: level-headed in a storm, vibrant in a fog; a presence that guides as much as it grounds.

"How long can you hold it for?" she whispers, firm and calm.

He pulls dry air into his lungs. "As long as I need to."

He steps forward, spellwork singing in his veins, and lets his hands unfurl. The air whips at his vestments, wailing with the bone-deep unease of voices old as Creation straining to be heard.

Somewhere in there is Copia's own. He'll drag it out by hand, if he has to.

"You imbecile!" Secondo is shouting, muffled behind the blurred opalescence of the Veil: a wall that glows off the circle Terzo crosses, consumes him with the prickling unease of a limb losing its circulation. "You can't reason with it!"

The flames warp again. A shadow like death bends over the walls.

Terzo's no stranger to the taste. His dreams have been riddled with the stench of it, from the day the Sight was force-gifted upon him. And like he had, then—a child with battered elbows and bruised knees; a not-man with awkward limbs and disdain for the old orders of this world; a Cardinal with paint on his teeth and a straightjacket of woolen expectations—he repents.

"I call on the spirits of the Then and the Below." A twitch strings through his fingers: with it, a flare of violet light. "To the Beings of those Beyond, the Eternal, I speak now, and speak only—" The pitch of his voice mangles, ragged with the corded growl of a beast: the underbelly all their half-human souls peel clean, when drowned deep enough in this waste. "In my Blood, see my will. In my Sight, my path—"

"What is he saying?" Mariella asks, her voice muffled as though through glass.

Primo calls a sharp warning: "Don't cross it—"

The air whistles with a faint singing of metal—and splits. It grapples at his clothes, twisting his hair with a gravitational pull unseen.

He breathes in chalk dust, sighs out knives.

Beneath Copia's shivering limbs ripples the black expanse of the Gate: an aether so endless one couldn't capture its history in a millennia: a presence so indefinable that even Primo, with years of such history under his belt, can only stare through the blur, voiceless and rigid at the sight of it.

With twitching claws and lightless eyes and Hell beneath his feet, Terzo beckons.

"Bare yourself to me."

The room shivers. The walls shriek. The flames stagger, flutter, wheeze again—and snuff out, completely.

In the pitch, it is only the Eternal, and the glow within his veins, and the white of his eye, and Copia's beast-man-beast-man-fanged grin with a split lip—

A Being that takes the air of the room by the throat, and speaks in a voice that thunders.

"It is time."

Terzo feels its presence slithering up his legs. The weight of its All on his lungs.

He keeps his hands steady, his intent clear, even for the exertion that leaves his arms quivering.

"Not here," he grits back, a strange echo in the ringed light that encases them. "Not now."

A hand that is not Copia's, is scaled and rotted and red, slaps to the stones. "When?" The shriek hits his ears like a thunderstrike. A chill is crawling under his veins: a heaviness that isn't right, is this thing more than his own blood. "When?"

Primo's magic is wafting through the air—some swift-casted attempt at a ward around them, far too late now. The scent of it itches on Terzo's tongue: dragon's blood, rose-ash, frigid at his back. His own aura swats it off like a gnat, too distracted to let it in, to think.

Fuck, he needs to think.

A stage—

The Being wails.

His downfall—this one's own Ascension—

Ice knifes into his ankle.

A stage and heat and lights and purple-bleeding-black and blood on his throat—a syringe in his brother's own hands, a demon masqueraded—his Unnamed's voice gristling in his ear, Be still be still be still now—

Mariella squeezes a talisman in her palm, smoking sweetly with the taste of Secondo's own protection charm.

"Papa," she calls out: her voice a muddy, drowned thing.

His lashes flutter open, heavy as lead.

"Coward!" the Being retches. Hellfire blisters against its silhouette, a nebulic haze. "Tell them of your death. Of Our purpose. Where We were sewn. You know it—"

Mariella holds the stone out to him, guided through the surging current of Primo's ward. The air wrestles like a gale through her sleeve.

"You know it!"

His claws catch at her palm—not his gloves, but his own, thick and black as talons. The talisman burns a sunspot-bloom through his marrow, bright as a thousand stars.

"Thirteen months." His speech is one he doesn't recognize: child and entity and Bloodline infinite. "On a black dais, surrounded by your flock." The talisman melts like a balm into his skin: an unseen shield that ripples with half-lit iridescence. The chill biting into his skin flinches. "You will know it," Terzo grits on, "and now is not it."

He thinks he hears Copia's voice through the fray. He can't be sure.

"And then?" snarls the Being.

Not a being. Not a thing.

No—this is Lucifer-incarnate.

An orchestration.

"It won't be finished, then." The shell of magic around them snaps like embers in a flame, a jolt wrestling up his arm. So much time. So much weighed down—and he weighs it down, still, his breath shuddering. "You'll have years to go—"

"And then?"

Scraped nails, dead eyes, bloodied horns, Copia—

Secondo's gloved palm tears through the gleam, squeezes like a noose around his bicep. "I won't say it again, you fuck," he spits, the words warped and crackling. "You're going to get him killed—"

He can't shake him off quickly enough.

"Close it!"

Copia's eyes. Copia's soul, trapped in the All. Right there—

His magic flares like a supernova, spears through that gate and holds: a cosmic blast that shouts his throat raw, knocks Secondo nearly off his feet, leaves him lightheaded and with blood on his teeth—but he has him—

"Thirteen months' time," the Being roars, "and you'll be taken with it."

Terzo hisses, his claws scraping at his brother's skin.

"So is the Rule."

The Gate grapples at his silks.

Copia's gloved fingers shake, snatching desperately at his arms. His own voice breaks through the loom. "Terz—"

"I've got you," Terzo spats. Sweat sticks at his neck.

The fibers of his magic are fraying at the edges.

Red eyes glare up at him. "Do you accept it?"

The portal whines.

"To the day it is marked, you'll have it. As it is written." His claws slip on Copia's sleeve. "As it always was."

The Being grins. "And so it will be."

It spits his brother out.

His hold on the Gate snaps like a wire—and shatters the well of magic, with it. The howl torrents through the room with a cello's blare, and whips to a bee-winged nothingness.

With the loss of it, gravity lurches in his gut. He cracks to his knees, catches himself on the stones just enough—gloves still intact, not torn through, only clawed with gold—and heaves blood.

"Papa!"

And his brother. His damned demon brother: rubber-legged, staggering, Copia gasps like a man near-drowned.

Unscathed, somehow—Satan willing.

Primo is across the room, in an instant. "Copia. Unblessed beneath, are you alright?"

"Ye-Yes, yes, I—shit." Primo catches him, his gloves slipping at his sleeves. Unsteadily, he veers back on his feet. "What...what happened?"

It's too dark. Too quiet. Too loud.

Terzo swallows down bile; chokes on blood and phlegm. Mariella's habit swims in his vision.

"Papa," she hushes, clear as crystal now. "Papa, look at me."

Secondo, halfway between them: "Is it gone?"

Her fingers skim through the sweat-dripped mess of his paints: press cooly at his temple.

"Is it gone?"

"Yes," she breathes.

Hazily, lashes flicking, Terzo tips out of her touch. He chokes on his words, the first try; rasps them, the second. "Where's the rat?"

"He's here," Primo answers him. "He's fine."

There's a clumping of boots, a rustling of silks, Mariella scurrying from the floor.

"What in Hell's name were you thinking." Secondo's hand jerks at his sleeve, wrestles him half-blind back into his bones. "You could have doomed us all. We never—never—speak to the Unnamed without wards in place. You know that—"

"Brother," Copia croaks.

Secondo rips his head over his shoulder. "You shut your mouth. I haven't even gotten to you." With a firm grip, his hand slips under Terzo's arm, helps him slowly to his feet. "Get up," he huffs. "Come on. Are you alright?"

"I'm—fuck. Fine. I'm fine."

His elder brother scowls down at him. "Good. And you better stay that way, because I have half a goddamned mind to put a fist through your teeth—"

"Dino," Primo snarls, "This is helping nothing." Years of practice in such misguided events has left him rationed, calm: a quiet glance turned to the pale-faced attendant behind him, who stands shell-shocked, having seen unwantedly the darker veins of their Order—and ones their customs would soon have him forget. "Jean," Primo says, waiting for his eyes to drop. "We will need a medic. Say nothing to the All-Father."

Secondo scoffs. "Oh, yes—Nihil will have this one's ass, when he hears of this—"

"Saints—ignore him, young one. A medic, and Priestess Diana. Quick as you can."

The boy nods and takes off through the hall's doors, stumbling up the stairs in his haste.

In his absence, the room holds a collective breath, the eyes of the siblings still in attendance fixed like rabbits on the four men clustered in the center of the room.

"We're alright," Primo says to them all, in a tone that is more order than reassurance.

It couldn't be more of a reach.

Terzo wheezes a snarl, a laugh. "Alright." The stones sting beneath his feet: five paces that drive him out of Secondo's iron grip, steer him straight into the path of Copia's saucer-wide blinking: eyes blue and white and younger than they should ever seem, in a face that has grown so weathered, as all of them have.

And he knew.

He lifts a clawed finger, his breath too slow. "I knew."

Primo, sharp as steel: "Do not take this out on him—"

He couldn't give a shit.

He almost killed him.

The bastard wasn't living.

"What are you, mh?" Terzo licks his lips, tastes the bitter metal of blood. He lifts a shaky hand. "No, no—what did she make you?" He smears the leather against his mouth, the heat of his stare unwavering, a knife-edge sliced from shoes to frazzled fringe. "That—that Aether just within you, eh? Always that, under there?"

Copia shakes. "I didn't," he blunders.

"This is why she brought you, isn't it? Satan, of course—"

Secondo wrestles for his elbow, a steadying squeeze. "Terzo—"

"You saw it—!"

His brother's eyes simmer: one black in the lowlight, the other white as a moonbeam. "I saw you."

His bites his nails through his glove. Rattles in a breath.

"Calm down, the both of you," Primo says coldly, a hand still on Copia's shoulder. "It was reckless—but you managed. We are all still in one piece." He steps between them, pointedly, studying Terzo's face like a leech. "Your Sight will be strained for weeks, after that. You did not have the power to even attempt that on your own."

Terzo snuffs. "A good thing one of us sorry shits did."

Behind the sharp slope of Primo's shoulder, Copia shivers, eyes downturned. "I—"

"Don't." He drags a gloved hand through his hair. Shaking—still shaking? Outraged—always. Horrified, still. "You're good," he tells his brother, tells himself. "It is all good. You're alright. Okay."

Primo's eyes stare through him, see a bitten-lipped boy with a bandage on his cheek.

Terzo turns away. "Okay," he hushes again, and walks, past Secondo's stone-still glare, Mariella's worried frown, and walks, and walks, and walks—

"You are not running away, now—"

"Dino. Leave it. Copia, do not linger on that, alright? Don't listen to it. You know how he is. It is not your fault—"

"But what—what was that? What happened—?"

—up the gnarled stairwells, out the maze of lower halls, stumbling over the grasses, and sits like a stone on the side-entry's steps. Like a ghost.

Sits for an age.

He must—because, by then, the medics have come, and the stench of that room has been dragged open, and Mariella's whispers are drifting across the corridor's arches—after he's ripped off his gloves, dug his fingers through his hair, tried to breathe and not think—and he expects her.

He expects her fear, her pity.

Not Copia.

The fool's boots scuff on the stairs.

"Is it, eh..." His brother muddles over a breath. "Alright if I—?"

Terzo doesn't have the mind to fight it—not with sweat still cold at his back. He swats his palm, some attempt at allowance, kneading his other fingers over his brow.

Copia slumps down to the steps. Just stays there, in awkward, insufferable silence.

Finally: "Shit—it's chilly today, isn't it?"

Terzo leers through his fringe. "Going to talk about the birds, next?"

"I'm just saying."

"Just saying. Yes—and you'll be singing, after." He combs back the half-tamed waves of his hair, hangs his hand across his knee. "Old chamber smells like a cesspool."

Copia manages a smile, the thistles of his mustache wrinkling. "Bleh. Nasty place. I've always hated it, down there."

"All the more reason to, now, huh?" Terzo forces a sneer of his own, glaring away. He sniffs. Pits his tongue against his teeth.

For a beat, his brother says nothing. Then, his gloved fingers squeaking over each other: "I'm alright."

Terzo chuffs, furrowing his brows. "Barely."

He can feel the rat's eyes on him. It makes his skin crawl. "Primo...told me. What it—well." Copia frowns at his boots, at the graveled path beyond. "Did you mean it?" he hushes, lifting his eyes. "That you've...seen it, before?"

Terzo bites the inside of his lip. "Seen lots of things."

"But—that. It's—I've always thought...er...felt that, maybe, she'd..."

"Sister?"

"Mother, yes—"

"Your mother."

Copia's shoulders twitch.

"I—sorry," Terzo mumbles, shifting his fingers over his thumb. "I know it's not..."

His fault, his intention—his anything, right?

But it is. Isn't.

Should be.

He flexes his hand, pitters his fingertips together. Looks away. "Anyway."

A breeze rustles cooly through the shrubbery that flanks the stairs: a feathered hush along the pines that tower over the grounds.

"Anyway," Copia repeats, shifting his tongue around his mouth. "It's just...you, eh...you have seen it, before," he says again, watching the air ripple through the leaves, "haven't you?"

Terzo glances at him. Sister's sloped nose. A paintbrush-smattering of freckles. The white of his eye, fixed on the swaying branches. Lanky little thing, as he's always been. The mirror to his own placelessness, own purposelessness, own forced mantle he never asked to have thrown upon him—but craved, clawed for, claimed, nonetheless.

"Told you, little thing," he says, tipping his heel off the stones. "Seen lots of things."

"But I know. I've always...felt it, I just haven't—" Copia fumbles, lacing his fingers. "Had the words, I guess."

"Rare thing, for you."

"Shut up."

"Heh—even rarer for me, eh?"

"Ugh."

They breathe in unison, the air thick with it: hope, despair, magic, emptiness.

"When it...when that...thing took over me, did it...say anything to you?"

Terzo's mouth ticks.

Thirteen months. Poison in his neck. His body tossed through the gaping maws of the realm beyond.

He stares at the points of his boots, still speckled with his own spit and blood, and scuffs his thumb at it.

"Eh...not clearly. Hard to make out, in the muck of it."

"None of it came through?"

Terzo tilts his chin on his shoulder, fixing him with a narrowed look. "It wasn't you, Coppie," he says. "Just...forget what I said, before. Old temper of mine, rearing its shitting head again."

"But what if—"

"It wasn't." Terzo plants his palm on his brother's knee, chipped black on his nails, and squeezes. "It wasn't," he murmurs again.

Copia stutters. "Well, even if it wasn't—it—it felt like I was..."

"Delirious?" He perks one brow, fox-grinned in his usual reach for deflection, distraction. "Dead, even?"

"Whole."

The smile wanes.

For a breath, he tries to hunt for that beast beneath his brother's skin—the way he so often does in the steamed glass of his own mirrors, and so easily sees it in them: the spire-teeth, the winged limbs, the eyes half-living.

He finds only a quivery little boy, tucked in the cage of a man's body. The same one who spent years, against all odds—against his own stupid, spiteful jealousy—clinging like a barnacle to his side.

He slides his hand away. "The Sight does it to all of us, little rat. Strips away the Veil." He picks at his thumb, the gravel hazing to a fine blur, and swallows: white stone crisping to clarity, again. "Catch an Emeritus in the right light—even a clueless one can see the Fallen in them."

Copia frowns.

Maybe it's not a comfort. All the more proof that he isn't one of them, as he has so often feared.

The Other, above all else.

"But what if I am?" he says quietly. "Whatever that...thing was? Will, eh...will something happen, if that's true?"

Terzo lifts his eyes to the sky—grayish with cloud-cover, damp with the chilled humidity of a storm along the way, something to wash this whole mess clean—and lies through his teeth.

"Happen?" he snides. "What is this—Armageddon, itself? You worry worse than Nonna, Coppie." He wrinkles his brows at him, his smile thin, his paints half-smeared off his face. "And even if you were—would it be so bad? All of us are hardly human, eh? Perhaps you are just farther along the evolutionariness—the truest Creature of the Night, of us all." His eyes widen, teasingly. "I mean—psh! I will have my fangs, no? And the pincher, his wolf-pelt, and Primo will, eh...Hell, what would the old goat be?"

Copia rolls his eyes, leaning into the cradle of his elbows. "A zombie?"

"Feh—the Nihilist is the rotting corpse, surely."

His brother rolls into a snicker. "Sea creature?"

"Agh—not the lagoon man! We will insult the dear river's integrity, with such things—no, no." Terzo sniffs, feigns smearing away his paints instead of the heat itching at his eye, and smiles wryly again. "Let's be realistic, here—the old gardenia will be the enchanted plant that traps one's bones for the witches, yes?"

Copia wheezes on another laugh.

Saints, he hates that laugh. Godawful sound, a mimicry of his own: a snort and a tea kettle and a giggle all in one.

The brightest sunbeam of any.

"He has to be the, er—the witch, right?" Copia wonders, giving him a teasing glance.

Terzo flashes his teeth. "Now, if that is the category—I will rule above them all, no?"

And his brother laughs again.

Their little brother, little demon, little star. The highest heir of them all, doomed to a path he should have never been put on—as all of them are, in their own ways. Always have been; always will be.

Terzo ignores Primo's shadow in the corridor, flanked by Mariella's quiet eyes. Ignores the hawkish leer of Secondo's folded-armed scowling, waiting to deflect the plague that will no doubt burst into the halls, once news of it all has reached the ears of their Highest.

At least for this moment, he can pretend.

Flit away what is yet to come, like a bottle tossed to the sea—Nihil, Sister, this brother tressed in silks and jewels for a price he hadn't the slightest knowledge would be paid—and goad another laugh out of him, and another.

Relish in the denial that this is all that ever was. Ever could be.

Copia: blushing, teary-eyed but toothy, knocking his shoulder into his—unable to do anything but choke at the idiotic scenarios he conjures for the four of them, in all their monsterly glory. As distracted as he deserves to be, after that wretched thing. The memory of it all forgotten, if for a moment.

And that's enough, Terzo thinks, the cool tang of rain on the gales.

For now, maybe, that's enough.

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