The land wilted before them. People fled, scattering to the winds, only to gather in small groups, whispering of their desolation. To speak too loud, they said, invoked them. Yet they had no names. No true way to be summoned, for they were mindless forces of chaos driven into naught but destruction. Those few souls who saw them perished, or became hollow versions of themselves.
The others drew blade and let loose the blood of their kin, manifesting heated battles that determined nothing save who could endure the longest. The victor wore the skulls of their enemies and drank the tears of those who wept for them.
So it was everywhere they went. I followed, never more than a week behind, watching the carnage. Yet as I watched them, they did nothing. Sword, bow, and scales sat emblematically, held aloft, and never used. They rode their beasts, never speaking, never acting. The world fell open before them without so much as a whimper.
It was morning when I finally dared approach where they rested, dawn barely cracking the sky. The stars still shone, hope yet alive. Their horses watched me with a strangely keen curiosity, braving my unknown scent to nudge a black muzzle against me or push my shoulder. My fingers stroked their necks and cheeks, smelling their immortal scents of war and chaos.
Around a fire, they lounged, unsleeping creatures, the sounds of screams and battles causing constant noise pollution that followed wherever they roamed. I had learned to stop wincing at the noise months ago.
They didn't eat or drink. Yet they sat, conversing quietly, watching the flames dance eagerly around them, the chaos they brought seemingly inspiring its heat to spread. I watched from the darkness near their mounts, wondering what the bringings of the apocalypse could even have to say to one another.
It was the closest I had dared to come. Assassins, the last hopes of humanity, had come and gone. Their ambushes were easily seen and destroyed. They killed themselves, so heavily influenced they were by the immortals' presence. Yet even this close, I could only barely feel the tug of their power.
Finally, I pulled in a deep breath, fed the green horse one of the few ripe fruits left on earth, and stepped out from the darkness. The four men went silent, their haunted eyes falling upon me in an instant.
The man clad in white didn't move, yet his brother in ruby stood in a second, approaching me with weapon raised, fire whispering over his skin and hair. I tilted my head and looked up at him as he approached. The two others stood, arms folded, studying me in the low light. A smirk touched the man in white's lips.
"Good morning," I finally said, the heat from War's blade whispering against my throat as he loomed.
Finally, Conquest laughed. "She's another who's lost herself. Let her go and wander."
I laughed. "Hardly. I came to meet you. To discuss... well, what you might be missing."
The horsemen exchanged a look.
"I'm not here with anything other than myself and an invitation. That is why you did not feel my approach. I do not come to kill, consume, harm, or follow."
Finally, Conquest stood and closed the distance between us. His strong hand rose then rested on my shoulder. Power pushed into my body, raising the heat of entitlement and hunger within. I shuddered and looked up at him, flushing deeply. War's palm pressed against my back, igniting the urge to own with the impulse to harm.
"If that's what you want," I whispered, reaching behind me to touch War's hip, before digging my fingers and pulling him up against me. "We can play that game."
His body froze for just a moment, as the men looked at each other.
I leaned forward, resting my other hand against Conquest's chest, fingers playing over the exposed flesh his clothing offered. "So let me conquer you. Let me battle you, War. And you," I said, glancing at Famine, "Let us consume one another."
"And for me?" Death asked, a curious look in his devilish eyes.
I smirked. "Death is transition. But it is an ending to a new beginning. Ride me till I break and become born anew."
He chuckled, pointing a finger at me as though I were a trap.
"Is this what you are? Eager for this destruction."
I shook my head. "No. I want to show you what can be wrought of who you are if you dared be intentional, dared to wield it rather than let it happen to you. To see what it means when given to desire, or love."
War leaned down, his breath hot on my shoulder. "You came here to offer us love?" There were surprise and amusement in his voice.
"Tell me when has another seen you for who you are and not run or murdered or died for it? Who else hasn't flinched? Or assumed you were nothing but a curse to this world?"
A pause hung in the air.
Famine was the first to approach, thin fingers moving through my hair before he caressed my bottom lip with his thumb. Hunger and need filled my body. I quivered as he smiled.
"Show me then," he said. "Show me your hunger."
My body was wedged between the three of them, but I moved forward, letting War's fiery blade hiss on my skin as my lips pressed against Famine's. His eyes widened in surprise before he opened to me, moaning into my mouth as my hands roamed his body, caressing and exploring.
His own hands stayed at his side, unsure of where they should be. I pulled back, placing kisses and licks along his jawline. "More?" I asked him, my lips trailing down to his collar bone, teeth nipping.
"Show me more," he murmured, finally raising a hand to my hair, resting there, caressing the silken strands. "Please," he dared murmur before his brethren.
My hand slipped beneath his closed, nails raking over his stomach before sliding downwards, fingers beginning to caress his now hardened length. A guttural cry escaped Famine, and I felt the hunger rise with his length.
I lowered myself to my knees before him, tugging his leggings down and pulling him into my mouth in an instant. The gentle hand in my hair suddenly gripped firmly as he gasped. "Oh, fuck."
His hips began thrusting, small at first, more instinct that choice, as my mouth worked him, moving up and down on his length. Behind me, I felt the eager eyes of the apocalypse. War grunted, sheathing the heated blade. Conquest watched, approaching to touch Famine's back, guiding his hips, infusing his brother with his own powers.
