Penny's head throbbed as she sat against the gym wall, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She touched her throat where the revenant had grabbed her, the bruises already starting to form, but she couldn't focus on the pain. Not with the man in the black coat standing over her like some ghostly sentinel and remains of the revenant behind him.
"Who the hell are you?" Penny's voice was hoarse, her throat tight from the creature's grip, but her tone held the same defiance that had gotten her through every fight she'd ever faced. She wasn't about to let some stranger walk in and act like he knew her.
The man—Inanis, he'd called himself—didn't immediately respond. His purple eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, studying her with a calm, detached expression. For a moment, Penny thought he might not answer at all, but then he sighed, almost as if the whole situation was a burden he'd carried too many times before.
"You're War," he said simply, as if that was supposed to make sense.
Penny blinked. "Excuse me? I'm what?"
"War. One of the Four Horsemen."
The absurdity of his words hit her all at once, and Penny couldn't help it—she laughed. A sharp, incredulous sound that echoed through the now-empty gym. "Okay, buddy," she said, pulling herself to her feet and wiping the sweat and grime from her face. "I've been in a few fights, sure, but 'War'? Like… the Horsemen of the Apocalypse? That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
But Inanis wasn't laughing. His face remained a mask of cool indifference as he watched her. "Believe what you want. It doesn't change what you are. You've already felt it, haven't you? The power. The rage. It's been building in you for days."
Penny's smile faded as his words hit a little too close to home. She thought of the strange feelings she'd had—the dreams, the unexplained surge of strength she felt whenever she fought. How her body had moved tonight, faster and stronger than ever before, as if something else was controlling her.
But this? Being one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? That was crazy.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice quieter now, almost uncertain. "I'm just… I'm just a fighter. That's all."
Inanis stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're more than that. Whether you accept it or not, the power of War has chosen you. You're part of a cycle that's older than this world, and you've been called to fulfill your role."
Penny took a step back, her fists instinctively clenching. "Called? By who? You?"
"By something far beyond me," Inanis said. "But I'm here to make sure you don't ignore it. If you don't accept what you are, the world will suffer for it."
"The world?" Penny repeated, her frustration boiling over. "Look, I don't know who you are or what kind of weird cult you belong to, but I don't have time for this. I've got real problems to deal with."
Inanis regarded her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The air around them shifted, a ripple moving through the room as if reality itself was bending under his will.
Before Penny could react, the gym was gone.
They were standing in the middle of a battlefield.
It stretched out before them, endless and brutal, the sky above a swirling mass of dark clouds tinged with red. Fires burned in the distance, casting an eerie glow over the bodies scattered across the ground. Soldiers, their armor caked with blood and mud, clashed in the distance, swords and shields ringing out in a chaotic symphony of violence.
Penny's breath caught in her throat as she looked around. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and iron, and the distant cries of the dying echoed across the field. She could feel the heat of the flames, the tension in the air—the pure, unrelenting rage of battle. It coursed through her veins, igniting something deep inside her that she couldn't explain.
"What the hell…" she whispered, turning to Inanis. "What is this?"
"This," Inanis said, gesturing to the battlefield, "is your legacy. Every War before you has fought on battlefields like this. And every War after you will do the same."
Penny shook her head, taking a step back. "This… this isn't real. It can't be."
"It's as real as the power inside you," Inanis replied. "You've felt it already, haven't you? The pull of violence, the need to fight. It's always been there, waiting. Tonight was just the beginning."
Penny opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat. He wasn't wrong. She had always been drawn to combat, even as a kid. Fighting had come naturally to her, like it was part of who she was. But this—this was something else. This was something bigger than herself.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost lost in the noise of the battlefield.
Inanis tilted his head slightly, considering her question. "Because the power chose you. That's how it works. When one Horseman falls, their power finds a new vessel. A new incarnation. You've been chosen to become War, whether you want to or not."
"I didn't ask for this," Penny said, her frustration boiling back to the surface. "I don't want any part of it."
"That's irrelevant," Inanis said bluntly. "The world doesn't care what you want. It only cares about balance. And right now, that balance is crumbling. Three of the Horsemen are gone. If you don't step up, the chaos will spread."
"Three?" Penny echoed. "What about the fourth?"
Inanis smiled slightly, but it was a cold, humorless thing. "I am the fourth."
Penny stared at him, trying to piece everything together. "You're… Death?"
"Yes."
Of course he was. Because that made perfect sense in the middle of all this madness. Penny let out a short, bitter laugh. "Okay. Fine. Let's say I believe you. What happens now? You expect me to just… what, join your apocalyptic club and start killing people?"
Inanis raised an eyebrow. "You're not here to kill anyone. You're here to maintain the balance. To prevent the collapse of both the mortal and supernatural worlds."
"Supernatural," Penny muttered. "Because of course there's a supernatural world. What else is new?"
"You're not as surprised as you should be," Inanis observed.
"I've been having nightmares," Penny admitted, her voice low. "About this. About battlefields. About… death." She looked down at her hands, the faint tremor she'd felt earlier returning. "I thought I was losing my mind."
"You're not," Inanis said. "You're waking up."
Penny shook her head, overwhelmed by everything she was hearing. "I can't do this. I'm just… I'm just some girl who fights in gyms for cash. I'm not some—some mythical warrior."
"You don't have a choice," Inanis said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "War is who you are now. Whether you accept it or not, the power inside you will continue to grow. If you don't learn to control it, it will destroy you."
Penny looked out at the battlefield again, the fires still burning, the soldiers still fighting. She could feel it now—the pull, the connection. It was like the battlefield was alive, feeding off her anger, her frustration, her fear. And she could feed off it too. The power was there, waiting for her to take it.
But she didn't want it.
"I don't know how to be this War," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Inanis stepped closer, his gaze softening just slightly. "That's why I'm here. To teach you."
Penny looked at him, searching his face for any hint of deception. But all she saw was the same cold, detached certainty she'd seen since the moment he walked into the gym. He wasn't lying. He didn't have to. Whatever this was, it was real.
She let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging. "So what now?"
Inanis turned, snapping his fingers again. In an instant, the battlefield dissolved, replaced once more by the familiar surroundings of the gym. The stench of blood and smoke faded, replaced by the scent of sweat and stale air. The fires were gone, and the cries of the dying were nothing more than a distant memory.
"We start with the basics," Inanis said, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're not the first War I've trained. You won't be the last."
Penny stared at him, still trying to wrap her mind around everything she'd seen, everything she'd felt. The power was there, just below the surface, waiting for her to reach out and take it. But she wasn't ready. Not yet.