Scarlet colored the sky at twilight. Normally, having such a beautiful sight would be a comfort to Luan, but now it just left her stomach knotted and her heartbeat racing. She knew that in a matter of moments, Lynn would be awake, and he would be ready for… whatever he was planning. He said they would be in the presence of another god, but based on what she'd seen of him, he was likely referring to himself. At least, she hoped so. The frontier was a mysterious place. One can never really know…

Lincoln was still useless. He was practically dead alive. A glassy, vacant look filled his eyes while his body was irresponsible to any external stimuli. A lizard had come by earlier and crawled up his sleeve and planted itself right on his face, and it only left when Luan shooed it away.

And Giggles… Giggles was probably as nervous as she was.

Luan heard a lurching grunt, and turned her head to see Lynn stumble onto the scene. His revolver was in his hand, pointed at an angle that left it dangling dangerous above his leg while he rubbed his eyes. "That was a good nap," he muttered. He coughed and spat into the sand, then returned his weary gaze to the three people he had tied up.

And that's when his nasty grin returned, and his eyes lit up again. No coffee was required when you had pure insanity on your side, it seemed.

"Well lookey lookey at these cookies," he mocked, bobbing his head side to side and he walked over to them. Luan didn't know what she was frightened of more; that he would go to touch Giggles, or that he would want to touch her.

He didn't touch either of them. He was narrowing in on his brother. He tugged on the young man's white hair and brought him to his eye level. Lincoln would've been screaming in pain if he weren't dazed out. Lynn slapped him, trying to get a response, and Luan barked, "Leave him alone!"

"Shut up. This is between me and Stinkoln."

He hit him again, this time balling a fist and punching his brother in his stomach. He dug his angry knuckles best he could, but Lincoln still didn't flinch. "Is he dead or something?" Lynn asked Luan.

"I hope not."

"Hope is worthless on the frontier. Only hard, cold facts cut it," Lynn told her. "And here's a fact: you three are going to die."

Giggles wailed, and Luan grit her teeth. "No we're not. Lincoln is going to come back and then he'll… he'll..."

"He'll piss himself, that's what. He'd probably curl up in a ball, so that he can piss in his mouth."

Lynn was getting bored now. He let go of his brother's head, throwing him back against the pole. He wiped his hand on his shirt, as if it were dirtied by the touch of cowardice. He aimed his gun right at Lincoln's scalp, and fake-shot his brother. "Pow," he said. Then he chuckled. "Well, no point in delaying anymore, ladies. It's showtime."

"What… what are you going to do to us?" Giggles asked fearfully. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes, and Luan wished more than anything that she could hug her and comfort her until the tears went away.

"I just said that you three are gonna die. Ain't you listening to me?" Lynn asked. He then shrugged his wide shoulders. "Anyways, if you're worried I'm just gonna shoot y'all in the head like the Injun over there and call it a night… well, that would be funny, but that would defeat my purpose. You see-"

It sounded like he was about to go on a long explanation, but then he stopped himself. A stupid look washed across his face as he thought about it, and then he shrugged again. "Actually, I suppose it's best if I show you. You girls like fireworks? This'll be like that, but better."

He gathered up a pile of dead wood. There was already a large pile of firewood near the pole, but he dumped more on top, with an excitable look on his features. Luan got a good look from her vantage point, and her eyes widened. If he was planning on building a fire, then it would be huge.

When Lynn was done, he sighed and looked up at the sky. He held up his fingers, and counted down as the red and purple colors faded, and in their place, hundreds of millions of bright stars appeared in the sky. "Alright, this'll be nice and romantic," he said to himself, before turning back to his victims.

"Watch carefully," he told them. Luan noticed that all the mania and youthful craze had gone from his voice.

He reached into one of his jacket's pockets, and pulled out a small box. It was dark and felty, like the box a modern man would hold his wedding ring in. He made sure they could see it, then smiled as he opened it up.

Inside, Luan and Giggles saw, was fire.

But this wasn't an ordinary fire. No, it was different. An ordinary fire would've set the box - and the man holding the box - ablaze in a show of red and yellow and orange. But this fire was more calm and gentle. It simply swayed from side to side, like a dancer tossing her head. The color was different too, for every second it changed. One second it was a stark violet purple. Another second it was a bright gold. The next it was blacker than coal. And then it was as greenish blue as the ocean.

There was also something else that was bothering Luan about it, but she couldn't really tell what it was.

"Long ago," started Lynn, "the peoples of the Old World found fire. Fire was their savior. It repelled monsters and animals in the night. It gave warmth while they slept. It cooked their food, making meat digestible. It was a tool, given to them by the Gods themselves. So it's no wonder that, in order to thank the Gods for the gift of fire, the people of the Indopersian lands began to toss sacrifices into the flames. And not animal sacrifices. No, no, no. I'm talking human sacrifice."

Giggles let out a horrified choke, and Lynn's nostrils flared. He reached down for a twig and placed it gently by the box. Luan watched as the fire began to eat at the tiny piece of wood, and then he tossed it into the pile.

VOOM!

In a mere instant, there was tower of fire behind Lynn. He cast a might shadow over the three, and hints of his old grin returned.

"Of course, this practice died down. The new faiths showed up. You know, the ones started by some runaway Indian prince, some Jewish carpenter, some Arabian shepherd… they all refused human sacrifices. And even before them, there were people of the Old Religion that were telling their people that enough was enough. That this wasn't the way. That it was time for reform."

Lincoln, please, begged Luan silently, her eyes on the rambling man's brother, come back to us. I know you can beat Lynn. You're strong. You just have to trust yourself.

Lynn continued his twisted sermon. "So the fire didn't receive anymore people. It began to die down, be forgotten. The temples where it was housed fell, and perhaps that's how it got into the hand of the gypsies. These gypsies passed it down, until finally… they gave it to me. No… the fire chose me. You see, I," he placed a hand on his chest, "am willing to feed it. Already have before. The fire gives me something in exchange. For every soul I plug in, well..."

Lynn aimed his gun at his temple, and without a moment of hesitation pulled the trigger.

BANG!

Both girls screamed as particles of blood and brain splattered across the ground. But just as soon as he fell, the blood of the young man returned to him, and his brains crawled back to the open cavity in his head. It closed itself up, and Lynn got off the ground with a cheery smile, alive and well.

"For every soul I feed the fire, I got another lifetime. Like a cat, but sexier." He grinned leeringly at Giggles and Luan.

"H-H-H-How… are you… still alive?" Luan whispered in horror. "You just shot yourself. H-How are you… how?"

"I'm alive because there's magic in the world!" he shouted with a twisted laugh. "There's old magic, older than you or I or even all of mankind. Magic that was here before Adam got tossed out of the Garden, and magic that'll still be here when the last man beats his own skull in with a rock! IT'S MAGIC, BABY!"

This can't be real, Luan thought, rocking herself. She was ashamed to hear a whimper escape from her. I'm dreaming. I'm hallucinating. I breathed too much of that smoke coming from the fire. This is… this is…

In novels, when a character discovers a secret world of magic and monsters, there's an odd idea amongst writers that the only thing said character would feel is amusement and wonder. This would likely not be true in real life. The existence of such things, and the horrific scenarios in which these things are introduced, would leave people in a such of disbelief and existential dread as they realize everything they had known before was a lie.

That was what Luan felt. Not wonder.

"Alright, I'm bored of talking. Plus I just wasted one of my lives to impress you ladies. But I don't have to worry about that much," he said, his evil grin curling, "because I'm about to have me three new lives to join the rest."

Join the rest?

And that's when Luan realized what was bothering her about the fire. She looked more closely at it, and she hitched a frightened breath. Behind the haze and the bright colors, she could see… faces. People's faces, screaming in agony, flickering in and out of existence. When Lynn said he was going to give them to the fire… he meant it.

It would be like Hell. The only difference would be that the good can be tossed in there as well.

"So… who's it going to be?" Lynn knelt below Luan with a smirk. "I'll let you decide who dies first."

"S-Screw you." Luan tried to be brave. But Lynn's mocking glower told her it wouldn't enough.

"Tsk tsk tsk. I was gonna let you be a little hero and let you offer yourself, but… now you gotta choose between your shithead sister, and my shithead brother."

"Luan..." said Giggles.

Luan didn't want to pick. She didn't want to lose either of them.

But her eyes betrayed her, and they rolled to look at Lincoln.

Lynn followed them, a wide and eager smile on his face. "Ah! Lincoln, son of Snow Hair. Excellent choice."

He untied Lincoln, keeping his gun aimed at Giggles lest Luan try to interfere. Lincoln was still not moving, and his brother grunted "Come on now," like he was handling a cow rather than his own flesh and blood. He began to drag Lincoln, the boy's freckled face getting scraped by rocks, and Luan knew she had to act fast to save him. But how? She was bound. She struggled against her ropes, but Lynn had tied them too tight.

With no other option, she did the only thing she could've.

"LINCOLN!" Luan screamed. "WAKE UP!"

Lincoln felt like he was floating.

Then he fell to the ground and slammed his face into it. "Ow, my fucking face," he said, rubbing his head. He hissed with pain, then opened his eyes to look around.

There was nothing. It was a void world of pure white.

He turned his head from side to side, calling out "Hello?" with hands cupped around his mouth. He began to walk, though on what surface he didn't know. "Hello?" he called out again. "Luan? Giggles? L-Lynn, even?"

No response.

"Dang it," he said, snapping his fingers.

He kept on walking, hoping to see some sign of… something. He wasn't asking for something huge like a big ole red barn or something. He just wanted some sign that he wasn't alone with the color white. He scanned above him for the colors of the sky. He scanned below him for footprints or hoof-prints. He scanned at his level for just something that wasn't the damn color white.

Then he saw it. A man sitting with his back to him. Lincoln couldn't tell, but it looked like the man was drinking something. "Hey! Hey, you there!" Lincoln cried excitedly, not even considering that this person might've been dangerous. He began to run over, pumping his legs more in those few seconds than he had for the entire year. "Hey you!"

The closer he got to the man, the more he could see his clothes. The man wore a dark leather jacket, and a pair of dirty boots that dug into the 'ground'. He wore a large tipped hat on his head, same color as the jacket, and Lincoln could see that the hair underneath was the same color as his surroundings.

White. It's always white.

He finally reached the older gentleman, and placed his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "Hey, didn't you hear me. I was calling for you and everything."

"Oh I heard you," said the man. "I was just waiting for you to catch up, boy."

Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "That… that sounds like something my Dad said to me once. Come to think of it, you sound a lot like my Dad."

"Do I?" the old man chuckled.

And it was then that Lincoln noticed that the man had a pair of guns strapped to his body. Two pistols, with Indian markings all over them. Just like… just like his father had…

The man turned his head, and he grinned.

"Hello, son," said Lynn Sr. with a kindly smile. "How have you been doing? Keeping yourself out of trouble I hope?"

Lincoln was stunned for a moment, but he got over it quickly. "Yep. I've been… doing the same, I guess." Then he frowned, and said, "You know, I thought seeing my dead father would leave me a bit more shaken. Since I ain't, I guess this is a dream."

"All inside your head," Lynn Sr. confirmed.

"Cool. That means I can make whatever I want happen, right? Hold on."

Lincoln pressed his fingers to his head, and bit down on his lip, concentrating really hard… and suddenly, a naked woman with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes was in front of him.

"For Pete's sake, boy, your father is right here," growled Lynn Sr.

"Oh right. Whoops," said Lincoln, blushing. He dismissed the blonde, but not before slipping her his telegraph.

"Sit down, we don't have too much time," Lynn Sr. ordered. When his son sat down, the bounty hunting hero rubbed his eyes and offered him a drink. Lincoln refused, and Lynn Sr. smiled a knowing smile. "Didn't think you of all people would refuse a drink, seeing how much beer and crap you've been chugging."

"You know about that?"

"I'm in your head, boy. I know everything."

"Everything? So you know about… Lynn?"

His father exhaled heavily through his nose, as though the name alone brought up feelings of shame and disappointment. Probably because it did. "He's my son, of course, and I was always so proud of him. He could shoot, he could ride… I thought he would be my perfect successor. That's why I passed my name down to him. But judging from everything I've seen, he's taken all his potential and pissed it all away on black magic. He's… he's hurting people, Lincoln."

"He killed Bobby," said Lincoln. "Shot him."

"I know," Lynn Sr. said in a pained voice, before it gruffened. "Which is why you need to get back out there and beat him, son. Beat him like I should've when he was a little shit."

"I-I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

Lincoln sighed. "Because… because Lynn's better than me. He always has been. He's better with a gun, he's better with the horses, he's better with g-girls… and I always felt like you liked him better than me. I can't beat him. I can't avenge Bobby. I can't save Luan and her sister. Because I suck."

"Lincoln… come here," his father said softly, opening his arms, ready to hug his son. Lincoln crawled over… and Lynn Sr. punched him as hard as he could on his cheek.

And despite being an old man, he packed a mean wallop.

Lincoln fell against the ground, eyes welling. "Ow!" he whined. "What the hell was that for?"

"Lincoln, for Pete's sake, did you ever think I loved him more than I did you?" Lynn Sr. growled. "When did I say that? Never, that's when. I'm proud of you, boy, despite how little you've done to make me so. I see so much potential in you, and even if I didn't, I'd still love the heck out of you."

"Um… thanks, I guess," said Lincoln, still nursing his sore cheek. "That doesn't help me face Lynn, though."

"Here's the thing, Lincoln," started the old man, "you're not as good of a shot as he is, true. You're not a good rider, true. You can't run as fast, you can't swim as well, and you can be a dainty little bitch sometimes. But there is one thing you've got that Lynn ain't never gonna get."

"What?"

Lynn Sr. tapped his skull. "You got smarts. Lynn's dumber than donkey shit and as crazed as a monkey sucking vapor at the brewery. But you got smarts and wiles. You can't beat him in a fistfight, but you don't have to. You can trick him, like Coyote in those Indian stories."

"Trick him? No, I can't do that. He'll kill me. I… I don't want to..."

"Lincoln… think of Bobby," Lynn Sr. said. Lincoln thought about him, as his chest filled with anger and hate. He felt puffed up by bravery, but it was quickly deflated as he remembered Lynn's skill with his pistol.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I really can't," he said, hanging his head in shame.

"You better," the old man said. "She's a-calling for you."

"Who?"

Then he heard her voice.

"LINCOLN! WAKE UP!"

"Sounds like she needs you. Sounds like you need you," remarked his father. There was a rough and uncompromising look on his face when he looked his son in the eyes. "Now tell me, boy, are you going to hide in here while Luan is out there suffering on her own? Or are you going to be a ding dang man and go out there for her?"

Lincoln thought for a moment. But it was only a moment.

The terror in her voice made his decision swift.

When he finally came to, he found himself falling face first into the ground. Dirt and sand and rocks filled his mouth, and when he propped himself up by with hands and knees, he spat it all out. It took him a moment to remember where he was, as his head jerked and his eyes blinked several times. He thought about his Dad, and whether his talk with his old man had actually happened or not.

Regardless, he whispered a silent prayer. "Thank you, Dad," he said under his breath.

Then he got up and turned his head to Lynn. The crazed boy gave Lincoln his classic Lynn grin. "Glad you've finally woken up," he said to Lincoln, before turning to Luan. "Lookie here, miss, my little sister woke up just like you wanted."

"Lincoln!" she cried with relief.

Lynn turned back to his brother, and looked into his eyes. His smirk faltered for a moment, though. Something about his brother seemed different. Lincoln's mouth was curled into a deep frown, his posture seemed more upright and bold. And his eyes… his eyes seemed harder.

This wasn't the same sniveling Lincoln he had grown up with. The Lincoln that flinched at the sight of danger or girls. The Lincoln that was content to waste his life away inside. The Lincoln that couldn't care less that bad things were happening, just as long as he got away from them. No, he seemed braver and angrier and stronger. In the flickering, colored light of the fire, Lynn could almost see his father in Lincoln's place.

But then he shook his head. He was just imaging things.

"Get in the fire," said Lynn, "or I'll toss you in."

"I'm not going without a fight," Lincoln said in turn.

"Ooh lala, little Linky-girl's put on her grown woman girdle." Lynn pressed his hands to his cheeks in a mocking display of fear. Then he coughed and spat. He spat on the ground right before Lincoln's feet, and the snow haired boy's eyes flashed with rage.

"Don't disrespect me, Lynn. And funny you should call me a girl when you got the girl's name."

"That's our Dad's name, you little shit."

"A name you ain't never been worthy of."

"Seriously, what's gotten into you?" Lynn scratched his head. "It's like you took a little nap with your eyes open and now you're some dime novel hero swinging his dick around."

Lincoln looked at Luan and her sister, still tied to a rope. The girls shivered from both fear and the cold, and Luan was looking back at Lincoln. She could see it too, what Lynn saw. That the cowardly boy she had met a day or so ago had been replaced by someone brimming with confidence. He shot her a caring smile, and Luan found herself blushing. Seriously, what has gotten into you, Linc?

He turned back to his brother, smile still on his face. It was much colder though. He then gestured to the fire by jabbing his thumb. "So am I supposed to ask about why that campfire's so big and purple?"

"It's the fire of the gods. That's magic fire. And every time I toss someone in, I get their life," Lynn explained again. He was annoyed that he had to do it twice.

"Right. The gods. Human sacrifice. Gotcha."

"Sounds like you don't believe me."

"Well, I only believe in one god, Lynn, and my God told Abraham that he'd prefer a ram sacrifice over him sacrificing his son Noah. After all, if Noah died, he wouldn't have been able to free the Jews from the Pharaoh."

Lincoln, you're the stupidest goddamn idiot I've ever met, thought Lynn.

He then smirked. "So how about a little demonstration?" Lynn said, aiming the gun for his head yet again. Giggles shrieked and turned her head, and Luan looked on with the same morbid curiosity that kept people's eyes on particularly disgusting road accidents. He then thought better of it, though, as he frowned and put the gun away from his skull.

Instead he reached for another of his pistols, and tossed it to Lincoln. "How about a duel?" offered Lynn. "It's a good deal for me. If you somehow shoot my first, which won't happen because you SUCK!… but if you do, I get to prove my immortality. And if I shoot you, well, it'll be two souls for the flames instead of three like I wanted."

Lincoln hesitated, then bent down to grab his gun. "Sounds good to me."

Lynn gave him a moment to load his gun with bullets. They then stepped closer to each other, and Lincoln could smell something emanating from his brother. It wasn't the natural smell of a boy in the desert. It was something darker. Like the cloying smell of a perfumed corpse mingled with the sulfuric smell of a demon straight out of Hades. It wasn't right. Perhaps that's why the horse seemed so jittery. Animals can sense things better than men can. Especially when it comes to the Unseen World.

"There's so many mysteries out in this patch of America," Lincoln said thoughtfully.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, dear brother," Lincoln smiled, though his eyes didn't.

"Lincoln..." Luan said her friend's name in a worried whisper.

The two young men stood opposed to each other. His back touched his. Lincoln could feel his brother's head and his brown hairs tickling at him. Lynn was taller than him. That didn't matter much, but in a death match, Lincoln needed to think about anything besides his possible impending death.

"On the count of three, or count of ten?" Lynn asked.

"Ten. On account of how many bullets I'm going to plant in your brain," Lincoln said, making Lynn burst out into hyena-like laughter.

"Alright, alright," Lynn coughed into his hand, and declared out loud "TEN!"

He and Lincoln both took one step forward.

"NINE!"

They stepped again, and as they did, the words of Lynn Sr., of the legendary hero and the even more legendary father, came back to Lincoln. He had told his son that he couldn't beat his brother with skill, but he could with his wits and trickery. And Lincoln knew exactly what he had to do.

So before Lynn could say the next number, Lincoln spun around and shot him in the back of the head.

"FU-" cried out Lynn as he fell to the ground, his head pooping out his pink brains. A red mist of blood splattering blood fell onto the ground like rain, and Lynn fell with it. His head slammed into the dirt, and he was dead.

"Careful Lincoln! He'll come back to life!" screamed Luan.

Lincoln looked at her with confusion, before he noticed the destroyed lobes carefully crawling back together, like slugs, and putting themselves back into Lynn's head. He let out a loud gasp as he spun and landed on his back, still laying on the ground. "You asshole!" he yelled at Lincoln. "You goddamn cock-sucking piece of shit! Just wait until I get my arms and legs working again. I'll bust your head open with a rock! What kind of a man shoots his enemy while his back is turned?"

"A man wouldn't do that," Lincoln admitted, stepping over to his brother's resurrected body. "But you see, Lynn… I ain't a man. I'll admit that upfront. I'm a coward, a liar, a petty crook, a shame on the family name. You name one of the deadly sins, and I've probably done it and smeared my shit on the barn I did it in. But look at you. You're supposed to be dead, ain't you? But here you are, coming back from the Land of the Dead smelling like rotten eggs. So as far as I'm concerned, Lynn..."

He cocked his gun, aimed it at his brother's forehead, and for the first time in his lives, Lynn's eyes flashed with fear of his brother.

"… you ain't a man either."

He shot him again, and Lynn screamed.

Then he reformed, and Lincoln shot him again.

Then he reformed, managed to yell "Die!" and then got shot again.

And again.

And again.

When Lincoln stopped to reload, Lynn had more time to reform. This time, he didn't try to yell out obscenities, and when his limbs finally started to work again, he didn't reach for his gun. Instead, he got up off the ground, and began to run. Lincoln watched him curiously as he fled, following after slowly. Lynn then fell on the ground, and he turned to see his brother standing over him, gun ready.

"No, Lincoln, please!" he cried pitifully. "This is my last soul. I can feel it. Please, I don't wanna die."

Tears were stinging at the older brother's eyes, and he wiped them away. He didn't look like a crazed killer anymore. Instead, he seemed… sympathetic. He wasn't someone that wanted to kill for the sake of killing. He was someone that was clearly scared to die. He was scared of the Reaper, scared of the void, scared of what was waiting for him. He wanted to live, to eat, to drink, to fight, to love. Lincoln felt sorry for him, and he considered letting him go.

Then the fire roared behind them, and Lincoln remembered something.

"Tell me," he said in a slow, smooth, chilling voice, "was there ever one of your victims who told you they didn't want to die? And if they did… did you ever let them go?"

Lynn whimpered, then said nothing. That was all the answer Lincoln needed.

He pulled the trigger, and Lynn died for the final time.

There was a loud screeching cry that emerged from the fire, so loud that Luan and Giggles had to cover their ears and bow their heads. Lincoln could feel one of his ears bleeding, so he cried out as he turned to look at the fire. He saw souls, people's souls, flying out of the flames and into the sky where a golden gateway in the clouds opened up to accept them, as if they were Puritans and Pilgrims being welcomed by America.

The fire died down, and all color was gone. All that remained of the site was black ash.

Lincoln walked over to the girls and untied them, smiling weakly at both Luan and Giggles. "Lincoln, what was that?" Luan asked. "And what's wrong with your ear?"

"That, Luan, was the sound of a false god dying."

Those were the last words he said before he fell into her arms.

She screamed and checked his heartbeat by placing two fingers on his neck. He was dead. Dead like the fire and dead like Lynn.

"Lincoln, no," she said, clutching his hands and burying her tearful face into his chest. She shook him several times, trying to get the young man to wake up, but she knew she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried. The dead don't come back to life, after all.

Luan and Giggles returned to town after a few days. The journey home was hard, and Giggles was barely alive when her father caught her in his hands. Once she was sure her sister was in good care, Luan faintly weakly on a chair. But before she did, she grabbed a man's sleeve next to her and told him:

"Tell them all Snow Hair died. He died twice. Once he died from age. The second he died saving our lives."

There was a void. A pure white void, with nothing in it save for two wandering souls. They were holding hands, walking together without a single feeling or word exchanged between them. Words and feelings are for the living, after all, and these two were dead.

They had both been here before. One came her once in a dream, and the other came several times.

They found a gate. It was a large gate, shimmering golden in color. Standing before the gate was a Semitic, probably Hebrew, man, wrapped in white robes and with whitish hair that reminded them of their father. He nodded at the two of them, beckoning them to come forth and receive judgment.

Lynn and Lincoln kissed once, then walked towards the man.

When I first showed this story to someone, they asked me if I was ripping off Indiana Jones. I admitted I might've been. Probably watched the movie around that time or something. I definitely did take some inspiration from one of my favorite anime Kore Wa Zombie Desu Ka?

Y'all know I'm basically just ripping everyone off at this point haha

Thanks for indulging me while I rewrote something from my past. I plan to upload my next long story in a few days (likely the 11th) and it'll be much longer than this one. Believe me, I know long things. It'll be tremendous. Bigly.