A short, swarthy man stood in a dank, gloomy cave, lit only by the occasional torch, as well as the one in his hand. He walked down, down into the abyss. His breaths were ragged and blew fog: for whatever reason, the deeper one travelled in The Pit, the colder it became. And it was cold.

His name was Nixus, a Pit Guard. And he was on a holy mission. Not the general mission of his order, the Pit Guards, who held prisoner the gods themselves in the name of the Godmother; no, he had another entirely. Taking heart in his righteous cause, he pressed on, ignoring his growing fear.

He was descending the Spire, the staircase that connected the castle with the levels below. It was very old, as old as The Pit itself. They said that the Children of Aton themselves built the complex, brick by brick. Though he doubted they would deign to do so personally, he could not help but feel the same awe as he always did as he descended that massive staircase, wide enough for a dozen men to walk down side by side.

“You alright, Koyati?” the man next to him, Caeman, asked. “You haven’t said a word for an hour.”

Nixus looked at his fellow Pit Guard, as if noticing him for the first time. He’d forgotten completely about the former nobleman as his thoughts went round and round. He’d have much preferred doing his rounds alone, but orders were to patrol in pairs.

“Because I don’t want to hear your ugly voice,” he answered coldly. He disliked Caeman, as much as he disliked all the others. They were all highborn, sons and daughters of senators or legates, and Etruscan to the bone, wheareas his own mixed heritage showed in his dark skin color. They called him “Koyati” mockingly, but he took pride in the term. He was one of the last true followers of the old ways of his people, after all.

“Well, there’s no need to be like that. Pull the sand out of your ass already.”

Nixus went back to ignoring him, noticing the bricks on the walls give way to sheer, hewn rock. They had arrived at the lower levels. The staircase came to an end at a great bronze door; automatically, they lifted the fortified oak bar which kept it shut, struggling under its weight, and opened the doors.

The walls here were strange. Their architecture was almost alien, the walls, floor, and ceiling forming a perfect square, smooth beyond what mortal tools could accomplish. A faint mist covered the floor, the temperature now downright chilly. And a vague sense of wrongness gripped him. This was not a place for mortals. But mortals they were, and their duty was to walk this hallway. After a moment’s hesitation, the same hesitation which gripped them whenever they walked this route, they pressed on.

It was pitch black in the hall, which was only illuminated by the torches in their hands. As they walked, he could make out alcoves in the walls, passageways near as massive as the hall itself. They were covered in clouds of darkness that even their torches could not pierce, however, so what dwelled within, he did not know, nor did he want to. All he knew was the stories passed down amongst the Guard, and the inescapable feeling of being watched he always had when he passed them. As he passed one such alcove, he thought he could see eyes glowing with malice within. No doubt just his imagination. Still, he instinctively brought his free hand to the hilt of his blade and sped up his pace, Caeman likewise.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall, an arch blocked by two other men, their tabards similarly emblazoned with the dark sun of their order. The senior amongst them nodded, allowing them to pass. They entered the penultimate chamber of The Pit, and the most closely guarded secret in the entire Republic: The Chamber of the Gods.

For such a grandiosely named place, it was fairly underwhelming, barely twice as large as the hall leading up to hit, its circular walls bare of any decoration or ornament. Two guards stood within the chamber at opposite ends, looking bored after many hours of tireless watch. But despite the mundanity of the room itself, what was at its center was breathtaking: A great stone bowl, as tall as his waist, surrounded by the gods themselves.

They were breathtaking to behold, both beautiful and terrible to behold. They simply stood motionless around the bowl, still as statues, but at the same time so very alive. Some, such as the huntress Aylin, were human in appearance, albeit still intimidating by their legendary deeds, while others, like the Pallid One, were horrifyingly inhuman. And there was of course Therelon. Looking at the Keeper of Knowledge, his resolved hardened.

“Alright, we’re done here, let’s get going already...” Caeman was starting, but Nixus payed him no mind. Throwing caution to the wind, he broke into a run, making for the gods and the bowl as fast as his legs could carry him, drawing out his knife as he did so. He could vaguely make out the other guards stepping forward in reaction, but he wasn’t worried.

For so long, he had been living under a pretense, to the point where he had almost forgotten himself. To the world, he had been Nixus, loyal Pit Guard of the Republic. For nearly twenty years he had served, bled, and killed for their cause, all to get where he was today. To make them forget that he was really Nix an-Dur, the last of a proud line dating back to the Dawn. Seeing the Keeper of Knowledge in the flesh, he was reminded of that truth: that he was not a Pit guard, he was a Devoted. The last remainder of his order after a thousand years.

He slammed into the bowl, pain echoing through his ribs. But even as he was winded he raised his dagger. Behind him the others were drawing their weapons and moving to tackle him, below him was a pool several feet deep of a liquid which seemed to have no color or viscosity.

He brought down the knife without a second’s thought, gouging a hole through his palm. The agony was unspeakable, and he almost passed out, gasping as a torrent of blood sprayed from the wound, falling into the pool. A moment later, a blade burst out of his chest, one of his former comrades having impaled him from behind. But it was too late for them. The liquid in the bowl was now becoming thick and crimson.

The blade was pulled back from his chest, and he fell to his knees, his hand still dipped in the bowl, which had now begun to shake. He raised his eyes to meet that of the Wise One, Therelon, still immobile “Glory… to… the...” he everything went black, and his head dropped into the pool. Glory to the Devoted. Glory to Therelon. Glory to the People. He had done is duty and had his vengeance.

When the bowl ruptured, sending flying shards across the room and pooling the tainted fluid onto the floor, he was already gone.



Some thirty kilometers away, in the great golden palace of Analos, Eyra, Seer and Godmother, awoke from her sleep with a start. Her heart was hammering away in her chest so strongly she thought it might burst out. A mortal of her age would no doubt fear a heart attack, but she was a Child of Aton, and immune to such maladies of the flesh. She knew what she had seen in her dream, that it had not truly been a dream... and what the sudden, minuscule yet quantifiable, rush of power into her signified.

The dam had broken. The gates were smashed. The Children were free.

Freed from my frozen state, my first instinct was to look at my hand. Moving my fingers as I raised it to validate I was free and of control. If I wasn't wearing a helmet the pit guards watching could see my wide grin. My second instinct, instead of finding an exit or looking to my siblings, was to find the one who freed us. I could recall the last words from his voice, approaching the collapsed and bloodied figure, now likely dead.

I'd gently turned him over, getting a good look at his face. "You have done a great service, rest easy, I will make sure your master remembers you." I spoke in a gentle voice, that seemed to have an audible effect similar to a burning candle flame. My hand would carefully and gracefully close the eyes of the fallen servant of Therelon. Afterwards, I rose back up, and looked forward to the remaining guards that hadn't fled. "So, tell me, what are your duties?"

Therelon's attention was drawn out from his mind as the door to their chamber opened. It is too early for the changing of the guard.. Yet, it was guard who emerged from the great doors of the Chamber of the Gods. One of whom had clearly never been there before. It was a show Therelon had seen played out, and one it did not care to see again.

But then the "guard's" gaze fell upon it. The guard's gaze grazed Therelon's, and it knew. After all this time, I had not dared to hope.

The man ran for the circle they formed. By the time he crashed into the pool of blood, the guard's around I Nd the room had begun to stir into action. Hurry child. Be swift and set us free.

Had it its freedom an instant sooner, the room would have echoed with a raven's cackle when it's Devoted's crimson blood broke the surface of the pool. Had it its freedom an instant sooner, it would have taken its Devoted into its arms and flown out of this wretched hole. Had it its freedom an instant sooner...

But it hadn't. And now it Devoted, faithful after a thousand years of silence from their master lay dead. Therelon's eyes widened in rage, it's first movement in a millennia.

And then the Pit collapsed.

Not the physical place, but the enchantment. The desecration of the pool had disrupted the magic that had held the Children if Aton in their prisons. It was an enchantment powerful enough to last through centuries, but it was fragile. This simple act was enough to rend holes in the most massive, most complex spell Therelon's had ever made.

In spite of its Devoted's death, it was pleasing to Therelon.

But it did not have much time to be pleased. The enchantment of the Pit was collapsing. And it the center of the spell was its creator, Therelon. It was disorienting, to be hit with that much magic at once, but Therelon weathered it. By the time it's sense were returned to it, it found Kilgarrah kneeling by its Devoted, closing its eyes. Therelon, too, was soon at the metal's side. It's gaze slowly drinking in the body.

"Thank you, Brother." Therelon's voice was low, just barely above a whisper. It took the Fallen Devoted's had in one of its taloned hands. "They would be here for this. The Pit alone kept us, and would have continued to keep us. Their purpose can only be to keep other mortals out."

"Isn't it ironic that you not only be the source of our shackles but also our freedom?" I seemed to make light of the situation with a jolly-like tone. "You should keep that body. Someone so devoted deserved a proper burial, what better honor would that be?" my attention turned to the room around us, Embers and sparks of flames were burning off of my blackened armor and crimson cape, though they provided no degradation to the equipment, as a result of my reviving power. Beneath my helmet, the visor could vaguely reveal two fire-like orbs of what would be eyes, with dark black sits fit for a reptile. "Hmph, guards eh?"

Steel crashed into stone like lovers reunited after a long war, a thick cloud of dust rising upwards in an unseen ballet. The sound carried throughout the lightless tunnels, so alien in this place of impenetrable silence. Alarmed, several of the hallowed Pit Guard rushed towards the source, weapons drawn. Half a dozen of them congregated in the hallway beyond the Chamber of the Gods, and they raised their torches to illuminate the darkness.

Like vermin, the dark retreated at the advance of the flames, revealing a twisted mound lying on the stone floor in front of one of the alcoves. It was not until the Guard were a few feet from the object did they identify it for what it was: a cell door, the heavy steel warped and crumpled like paper.

It was but a moment before one of them spoke, but a moment that seemingly stretched into infinity, in which entire civilizations could rise and fall.

"That," said the first Guard to recover from his shock, "is really not good."

"Eyra's eye," said another. "What do we do? We were never told something like this could happen."

"What happened?" said the youngest of them, waving his torch wildly as he backed away from the gate. "What did this? What did this?"

"HelLO."

The voice was glass ground into gravel, the voice of something that had not spoken in a very long time, and directly behind the young Pit Guard. He spun around, and in his last few moments dearly wished he had not. It was his light that revealed the hulking leonine horror: hungry, furious, and free.



The bestial giant, standing taller than their longest spears, lashed out with a speed that belied its thousand-year imprisonment, and the young Guard flew through the chill air, rent and ruined, the life struck from his body, and disappeared into the darkness of the now empty cell. His comrades, doused in his blood, stared at the beast as if frozen. But they were not frozen. Mortal men though they were, they were also the Pit Guard, Eyra's elite, and though all of them felt fear, none of them would allow that fear to fell them. Shock turned to grim determination. Their white-knuckled hands gripped the hafts of their spears and swords tightly. It would be death and death alone that would pry their weapons from their grasp.

"PIT GUARD," they cried, charging the demon. "In Eyra's name! Attack! ATTACK!"

The beast welcomed their charge, relished at the bite of their steel against his flesh. It had been so long. So long. The pain sang to him. He had not been dead these long and lonely years, but neither had he been alive until this moment. He grinned as a sword sank into his naked thigh. These were strong warriors, and he was weaker now than he had ever been, but still he was a Child of Aton. He hungered, and that hunger would not be denied.

"YEs. ThaT's IT. DO yoUR duTy," the beast spoke, even as his claws cleaved one of the warriors in half. He could taste his own blood in his mouth. A familiar lightness creeped into his brain. He felt his senses sharpen, expand. His heart beat with a maddened, rabid joy. This was what he was put on this earth to do.

"TRy to FIGHT ME. Try tO HURT ME."

The beast's massive paw gripped one of the soldiers by his legs and swung him about like a club, laying two of the poor bastard's fellows out before slamming him heavily against the unyielding stone wall. His body burst in his armor like overripe fruit. With a flick of his powerful, sinuous tail, the beast swept the last Guard's legs out from beneath him. He fell on his back, his spear flying from his hand. The man's training took over as he bravely moved to draw his sword from its scabbard, but the monster was on him in an instant, massive jaws closing around his arm, crimson-stained fangs tearing it off the shoulder. The man's scream echoed throughout the Pit.

"TRy aLl yOU LIke," said the lion, its muzzle inches from the man's face, its breath washing over him in a cloud of hatred. "I hAve LOSt coUNt of hoW ManY sWorDS have BROKen aGaiNSt my hIDE. How MANY spEARS have sPlinterED betwEEN my TEEth. CaLL for moRe meN. CalL for ALL of thEm. It won'T MATTER. I am NOD, BRiNGER of WAR to this enTIre fEstEring PLAnEt, and I will sWalloW yoUr feTid GodmoTheR's HEART, rIght aFTER I AM DONE sWalLowIng YOURS."

"State your name, guards." I spoke to the remaining pit guards that had watch us children that had started to be freed. "Also tell me the name of the mortal who freed us, I ask of you." Though my voice was loud and booming, I had a polite and respectful way of speaking to the mortals who were supposed to be my enemy. My orb-like eyes providing great illumination before me that would render their torches useless in comparison.

The sound of crashing stone and blood dripping onto the floor caused the sleeping mind of the Deep to pull at the shackles of sleep from itself. Slowly, at first, as the Lady's consciousness roused itself from the depths of slumber, only to be drawn back down as if it didn't wish to awaken. When the bowl ruptured sending shards flying across the room and blood pooling on the floor, the hazy mind of the Deep shook free the chains that bound it.

At first, slow movement. One of its arms reached upwards, bringing it to it's face as it tested the limits of its movements once again. Another arm extended fully from its side, grasping at some invisible force. Its last two arms, wrapped around its waist, hugging itself tightly as its consciousness fully returned and the spell that had bound it was destroyed. It spoke no words, only silently observed the rest of the angels, it's head turning towards the first voices it heard.

Kilgarrah and Therelon. The former was more familiar to the Deep. The latter was more unknown, though it did find that one amusing. But those weren't important. It's...her siblings were not important right now.

For the first emotion she, the Lady of the Deep felt upon being freed was of sorrow if she were to put it in words of man.

A deep emptiness filled her. It was quiet. She couldn't feel her children. They were silent, and she knew why. In her dreams as she slept, she could feel their screams of fear and terror as they were hunted. They cried to her, and she was helpless to save them. All she could do was weep for them, as little as that would solve however, she would do such a thing at a later date. For the second emotion she felt, would be anger. Rage. And the rage of a mother protecting her children, was not something to be trifled with.

The Lady of the Deep, took her first steps after being freed. She offered a soft glance to all of her brethren, but spared no words for them. Years of being unable to commune with them, made speaking the same tongue as humans and the other gods more difficult than usual, and she didn't wish to deal with such trivialities at the moment. Her gaze turned to the humans Kilgarrah was attempting to speak to. Speaking was useless at this point. She had no words for disobedient children who were murderers, thieves, and traitors.

So for now, the Lady of the Deep chose Silence. She was not a fighter by nature...besides, it would be better for one of the others to decide the outcome of events, here. Whether it be peace or violence...her only goal right now was to leave. She would return to the Deep either way, and then...she would get her revenge.

So the creature watched Kilgarrah and Therelon with some curiosity. She would follow their lead for now.

One thousand years. What was it to an immortal but a blink of an eye? What were the centuries which passed by? What significance did they have here in the pit? Where no sun ruled the day, nor moon by the night, no stars above to gaze upon. Death was preferable to this, for death allows us to return. This was torment to be away from the world, chastised away from their own children. For what good was an immortal life without purpose? A meaningless life was not one worth living. For even those who watch, watch over. Those who corrupt, corrupt. Those who kill, kill. Everything in the universe had a task set before them, a task unfinished while rotting here in the pit. Of course their eternal bodies could not rot, but rather they rotted. Weakening with the continuation of life, their hold dwindling, and the bonds which held them captive drained their will. At least for those with minds tethered to the pit. For those Children who saw the pit as their prison, the walls crushing their hopes of freedom, and the guards the wardens, the reality of it was a prison. But there was another prison greater than the pit, one that not even Therelon in all his infinite knowledge could devise to construct. The mind after all, was its own prison.

So there in the pit, amongst the other angels gathered there did the Great Old One kneel before the pool. His eyes neither shut nor open, but half-way inbetween. For there was nothing to in the pit, but much to do within the mind. There sitting upon his haunches, the monk channeled his energy into self-reflection. For one thousand years ever since the betrayal and their imprisonment, Wu Dan had not moved from this kneeling stance such that a fine layer of dust covered his shoulders, robe and hat. Covered like a statue underneath the grey dust, as he clutched his prayer beads in one hand, and covered his fist with the other. His head bowed in contemplation, over the deceit and justice which would be executed the moment they were released. For it was not Wu Dan to be vengeful, but virtuous. For Eyra had imprisoned them with trickery, so too would she be taught the fruits of her treachery. Where the others would seek to kill her, Wu Dan would stay their hand. Death was too good of a punishment for her. No, she needed to also be betrayed, for then she shall experience the cruel sensation. But it would not be by those she would not trust, but rather by her own children. She shall earn her forgiveness through understanding the pain she had caused.

So why burst at the seams to know your freedom is at hand? Why rush forth and storm out of the pit? There would still be a surge of demons who would escape with them. And the wars would begin again. For this reason Wu Dan made no attempt to leap out of the pit. Nor any attempt to suggest he was conscious of the current situation even. For even if he could no longer guard his mountain and his people, he shall certain guard the pit. The demons would be upon them soon enough. And Wu Dan's grip tightened around his beads.

---

The world was run by desire. That which gave everything its drive. The need for the grass to stretch out to the sun, the need for cows to eat the grass, the need for milk from her calf. All things had needs, hungers to sate, cravings to fill. For without such desires, life would have no meaning. Nothing to live for, no purpose to fill. Satiation was after all, fulfillment, and after fulfillment, unless hunger took over, one had outlived one's purpose. Odd how it worked did it not?

But ah in this cell, where the Devouring King was chained and imprisoned. Held behind a door in solitary confinement such that his taint did not fester into the minds of others. He was locked away, forever sealed within the pit. But there in his starvation he smiled. His grin wide and teeth bared. For he was patient, for all things time devours. And soon the contract would be up, and he would roam free once more. To reclaim his kingdom and his treasures. To retake his city by merely taking the throne, and devilishly enjoying knocking down Eyra's statues in her places of worship as an effigy.

Roaring heard down the pit, that must be the big kitty himself. So, it looks like it's show time...

I gave a nod to Nefas, a small one, but one of acknowledgement. Another sibling that's presence wasn't a bother. Seeing as she was the third to awaken, he focused back to the group of soldiers. Most were steadfast, weapons ready, and ready to die for their queen. However the ones in the front were suprised by my mannerism. Among the group, whispers emerged, conversing to the side though their eyes focused only one us. "Thats therelon itself.." A whisper could be heard, before interrupting by a louder whisper "L-lady of the deep, the queen of those abomintations!" "Who's the knight with them?" "A defector?" "Wait those eyes, they sing a song of fire."

I'd end there murmuring, "You are looking upon the Honorable Kilgarrah." Weapons still drawn, one of them spoke up. "In the name of the godmother, we will-" He'd be interrupted with a puzzled look as I held my palm up, gesturing him to stop. "Yes yes, but before that, the lad's name, the former comrade you killed."

Most were reluctant to speak, either puzzled, fearful, or out of spite and too ready to fight to acknowledge such words. Finally a third voice broke from the crowd. "Nixus."

I gave a look to Therelon to make sure he heard that name well, before returning to the crowd. Most were brave against my gaze, however one of them was trembling by the knees. It didn't take long for that same one to get on his knees. "S-spare me, please, oh great ones. I was not involved with your sealing, I be-" My voice would cut him off instead. "Cowardice? you are a soldier, a guard of the pit, I assume your 'Godmother' gave you some merit for that title, so get off your knees. Do not disrespect your duties or leader." I said sternly, as if I was scolding a child. I'd unsheathe my lance from my back, in a slow but steady manner. The lance's blade was longer then my own body, yet my grip wielded it as if it were a mere wooden stick. "I do not wish for a slaughter, Brothers and sisters, do not interfere as of yet." I looked back to Therelon, Nefas, and the others who were waking up. I'd return my attention to the remaining guards. "I trust Eyra has at least taught you of honor, come, the strongest of this squadron, please step forward." Almost immediately, the formation of the guards split as a hulking figure emerged from the back. Axe in hand, his armor, though identical to the rest, was larger to accommodate the inches of height he had over his peers. "Name." I stated simply and loudly, to which he unflinchingly replied, "Fredrick Sigurd."

Such a surname was familiar, Sigurd is a name I recall, one of the many family tribes of my people. My eyes widened though my helmet did not show this, was I given the honor to meet the descendants of my proud people? I had to test this. I'd raise my Lance, pointing it at his direction as the arm wielding it leveled in front of my chest, my spare hand would cross over my chest and rest on my other shoulder, which was a traditional stance to any duel formed by my people. To my surprise and awe, he mimicked it. The rest of the guards were watching in confusion yet in some strange awe. "My family has not forgotten your name, Kilgarrah, our society has tarnished your name as a tyrant and coward of the war, but the stories passed down by my, no, our ancestors say otherwise. Show me the legends are true, my master, grant me a warrior's death."

I'd lower my lance a bit, I have lived many years, many centuries, thousands upon thousands, so long I have forgotten my age. However I have never felt, nor could I remember feeling, such powerful emotions through my body. I couldn't describe it, but I was on the verge of tears, something I couldn't even admit and I thank my helmet concealed my face. "Very well, warrior, I will not disappoint you, do not disappoint me." "King of Dragons, I fight for the Godmother, and I intend to fulfill her wishes. Do not think ill of me for it is my duty." "Aye, I already understood this, there is no hatred towards you or my sister, only respect."

A moment of silence then filled the hallway as we lowered our weapons, staring each other down though our helmets hid our faces. In a moment's notice, we charged and blades clashed, the guard was barely able to keep his axe up from the force of my lance. I was restraining my power, I did not want to kill him so swiftly, but even so it was impressive for a mortal to withstand such power head on. He would back step before swinging his axe down upon me, to which I side stepped out of the way. I would return to impale him with the lance but he would avoid the strike narrowly, and picked his axe up for another swing. This time I was the one blocking, I blocked it with ease but its been a while since I ever felt a blow from a mortal so strong. We would each continue to swing, dodge, and block at each other for what felt like a few minutes, until I finally struck through his chest, even his armor couldn't resist the force I delivered and the blade of the lance.

I watched him cough up blood, and look at his mutilated body, but I could tell even with his helmet on that he wasn't fearful of death. "Thank you." I heard him whisper before his breathe faded, and his body going limp with the Lance holding him up around the torso, through the massive hole now in his body. I would unmask the honored mortal, and made sure his eyes were closed. I'd free him from the lance, and tossed his body to the guards. "Make sure he gets a proper burial, tell your queen of his glory." However one of the guards would rush up, enraged at both his fallen comrade and being sworn to his duty he couldn't allow us children to get away. His pike would swing at me though I grabbed the blade with ease. I can tell that there was a strong bond between this man and the now fallen soldier.

His arms unwound from his powerful chest, while at the same time his finger tips grazed the smooth floor. He could feel the dust. He could feel the... dust. It was a marvelous, refreshing sensation after a millennia of stationary imprisonment.

His pale lips parted way to reveal the half human, half feral snarl that suddenly contorted his angelic face. His white hair laid over his shoulders and veiled his eyes, they were reminsenct of dove feathers against his vision.

It was a dastardly mixture of umbrage towards Eyra and a thrilling exhilaration for being free that moved him to a standing position.

And it was the same emotions that sucked, drained, and ripped the darkness from the angel's chamber. It was all replaced with a pale white that seemed to stretch out towards the furthest corners. It covered all but the sentient. The heaviness of his lionic legs were a kindly reminder of his appearance; the heritage of his fragment of Aton.

From the power of his instinctual drainage, he formed the amphorous black and red staff. The moment his upper left hand had wrapped around its frame, he bounded past his siblings with preternatural speed and started up the stairs to freedom.

His crown smoldered with the same material his staff was made of, a black and red ooze of pure color.

"I knew she would! I knew she would and It still enrages me beyond white!"

Aylin flexed her fingers as feeling returned to them. It had been eternities since she had been able to move and she took a moment to do so, relishing the moment. Her first reaction upon waking was to check for her bow. It was still as it had been before strapped against her back. Good. She slowly moved her dark gaze, hidden under a hood she had up since before being frozen, to look at the others in the room.

She looked at each carefully. Though they had been allies when they were imprisoned here there was a chance all of that could change. She had to be careful. For now she just wished to leave here and somewhere far away. Preferably a high place from which she could see how the world had change. For it undoubtedly had after all this time. Her only goal now was to see that.

It seemed so far that only the keeper of knowledge and dragon king had spoken. Aylin had no interest in changing that. The eternity spent imprisoned had not made her any more talkative. Being in this space, with all the other Angels, on made her uncomfortable. Too many people. Too little space. She could hardly defend herself if something went wrong. A bow was a weapon made to be used at range. And if they had been released the others undoubtedly had too.

Aylin did not pay much heed to Kilgarrah's words to the guards. She did not care what he said or did to them. Still she did not turn her gaze away as some kind of duel occurred. She barely understood exactly what events were taking place. She was sure that if they let Kilgarrah have his way he would fight each guard separately until they were all dead. It was hardly the most time efficient method.

Letting out a soft sight Aylin pulled her bow from her back, forming a simple arrow and placing it on the string. She doesn't particularly want to take part in any killing that may take place here but an arrow to the heart will be far faster than any drawn out melee fight.

Though maybe she should followed what Chinasa did and just head in the direction of freedom. She could get places people couldn't after all. It wouldn't be difficult for her to find a way out quickly.

Slowly, uncertainly, Aylin took a step forward.

---

There was a slight tingling of power, the sense that something Ash had long lost was coming back. It was obvious what it was as the prison itself that had contained them began to crumble. They were free. Finally.

Though this form was no good. They hardly wanted to reveal their true self to the others. It was not like it particularly mattered, they didn't see themselves as this form anymore than others. But they disliked it due to the true form encumbrance that came with it. It seemed limited.

But what form to take? What did they want to look like? Something humanoid was a good bet to start with. Something unassuming. Innocent. They didn't want to be slaughtered as soon as they stepped out of this prison. Though, of course, they were sure the other children would figure out it was them. They would have to take on another form after getting away.

Ah. An idea formed in their mind. That was perfect. It took only moments for them to change, slowly shrinking as they changed their features to what they wished. Small was good. Young. They grew their hair slightly, kept it brown, and turned their eyes to a similar colour. Their skin darkened slightly. Where a man had once stood there was now a young girl, innocent and unassuming. This was perfect.

With this new form Ash walked out of the cell that had held them for too long, a smile on their lips. Time to return to causing chaos.

The Forgemaster

Blood spilled and fingers moved for the first time in a millennium. That was the only sign at first that Kozz, an unlikely angel in his grotesque one eyed form, had too been freed by the sacrifice of the devoted. It amazed him that one mortal could do so much. It bothered him that a human could be so foolish. The angels were free, but so were the demons. What human could consider that a fair trade? No one would be safe now he and his brethren once more walked the earth. This day promised to be the first of an ensuing dusk, the sunset of human civilisation and the coming of night and eternal strife. The Cyclops saw all this and shook his head, realising for the first time that much time had passed and conflict had already begun, and been resolved, as he pondered. No matter though, nothing would change through idleness. Only action could fix the mess that a single short-sighted human had provoked.

Kozz the Forgemaster, cyclops and reluctant supporter of Eyra, stepped away from the defiled bowl and looked about himself with one great eye. It was at that moment Chinasa saw fit to drain the prison of colour, and the whiteness spread like a disease. Kozz watched but he did not speak. Blood was being shed and the white-king had fled up the great stairwell. The Forgemaster remembered the way. He knew the prison well. He had helped forge the chains.

With a slow ponderous walk, he followed the path laid out by Chinasa in his speedy departure. There wasn’t really any who could pose him significant threat in the prison, nor did he particularly fear death. At worse, he would be slain here and then be reborn, now that the well was destroyed his spirit could not be contained. With that in mind, the Cylops mounted the stairs and followed the path he knew. Others fought around him, some had already finished their battles, and their aggression drew the attention of what guards remained. Those who struck at Kozz found their weapons rebounded off his leathery hide, or he caught their spears and snapped them with efficiency. He still suffered many wounds, but it bothered him not.

A call to battle. The First of the Demons had broken through. Breeched into the prison of the angels, and now would escape. He would not let that happen. No for Chinasa was fast upon his legs, but the Grandmaster was ready. No demon should leave this pit for the destruction they would cause upon mankind. In her wisdom, Eyra sealed them away, though perhaps felt the same for her other kin. Too much had been sacrificed, too many lives lost in this petty squabble. The demons must remain, even if it meant continued imprisonment. For should they have failed to contain the demons, then one thousand years away from the earth was all for naught and Eyra failed.

With the grace of a cricket leaping off the supple leaves of tall bamboo, Wu Dan rose from his kneeling meditation, his eyes opening wide in fervor against Chinasa. The dust shaken off by sudden action, and through the air the Grandmaster flew, as if swimming through the air as fish would water. Even with his powers lessened, Wu Dan was capable of nearly defying the laws of physics as he did for years of martial training. The walls was his ground, as he leapt from each to ascend the stairway by rejecting it. Meditation had enlightened him, the mental fortitude keeping him ready for this very moment for when the chains broke, the demons must remain trapped within. Freedom was the price to pay for their failures, thus the children of humanity must rally to protect the world before vengeance upon Eyra. So there he was, interceding before the steps and Chinasa along the spiraling stairway, his presence to halt the movements of those all too ready to escape without their duties fulfilled.

"You shall not pass, Demon." His voice dusty and low, barely a whisper for centuries of disuse had weakened his roar. "I am duty-bound to stop you and all those who would seek to enslave humanity." His right hand was drawn up at the White one, as if forbidding Chinasa to pass with an open palm. "Those of us imprisoned here and have lost everything, we are here away from our Children to trap our chaotic brothers in this very pit. If we let them escape now, would we and our Children suffer for nothing?" His call to arms for his other angelic hosts to rise up and throw the demons back into their cells would whisper down into the lower chamber below.

"And if you were to not let us pass, you would all remain a prisoner here." A mocking voice, sweet like poison replied from below. Zhystkrexas smiled at the scene as he passed Kozz, Ash, Kilgarrah, Therelon, and Nefas Sen along with the others who came for their freedom. In his jaws, the remains of his bindings, that which entrapped him within in cell, chewed on by one who had not eaten in centuries. "And how would Eyra laugh at us as she strikes us down with impunity. Wu Dan, forgive me to say that you are too devoted to the concept of duty. Obsessed almost dare I say?" The vile poison in his words, mocking and twisting the meanings behind them. "So let's make a deal, we shall deal with Eyra first, for I believe that is what we all desire. And I know desires. And after we deal with her, we can return into this pit and go with the fisticuffs after we dine upon her. What say you oh wise and stoic Grandmaster?" A chuckle followed after as Zhystkrexas swallowed that which he chewed upon and began to gnaw on the head of a fallen guard one freshly killed by a dragon.

"Hrmh. Very well. She must be punished first. Then we shall settle the score as we should have done in the ages of yore." And with that, Wu Dan would nod to Chinasa and let the White Demon pass first into the world.

Violence. Of course. There was unlikely any other option the humans would take. After all, she had come to the conclusion ages ago that fighting is in the humans very nature. A detestable trait, and one she would be glad to give them freedom from. The Lady of the Deep watched as the duel started, a small sigh escaping her lips. She still didn't like violence, even after all this time...but sometimes, evil was necessary for the greater good, and if violence was needed to free herself from here, then she would do it. Returning home to the Deep trumped anything else. Morals, ethics, and loyalties didn't matter.

After all, the only one she was ever truly loyal to were her children and herself.

She turned her head from the duel, completely disinterested in its outcome. Kilgarrah would be victorious. There would be no way these humans could hope to defeat him in combat, even as weakened as he likely was. Not to mention, if he were to die they would have to go through her next...and she wouldn't be such an easy target as they might think. Instead, she observed her brothers and sisters. The Pallid one, Chinasa seemed to be the next to wake from their chains. He hurried up the stairs, draining the color from the room and leaving nothing but a harsh, white color.

The Lady of the Deep closed her eyes from the offending brightness. She had nothing against Chinasa personally, but such brightness was something she found irritating and offensive. The Moonlit hunter, Aylin was next to awaken. She said nothing, as was her way. Silence suited the Hunter, and was welcome in the harsh brightness that the Pallid one had created. Next, was Kozz. She watched him lumber out as he was attacked by other guards, completely uncaring. Next, was Wu Dan. With an impressive physical display, he cut even the Pallid one off at the stairs. She turned briefly back to Kilagrrah, watching the end of the Duel. He was, of course, victorious. Nefas shook her head, turning her gaze to the ground briefly before walking out, following after Wu Dan.

A simple black and gold robe covered her features, long enough for its hem to lightly touch the floor as she walked, ignoring the chaos around her. Following in the steps of Chinasa and Kozz, the other children were doing a much better job of fighting and drawing the attention of the humans than she could, and most humans seemed focused on them, so she paid her other siblings and them no mind. They were not important, and she need not converse with them. As long as they kept to themselves and did not hinder in her escape, they would not receive her ire.

She reached the stairs with little difficulty. She knew the way well enough...and then Wu Dan did just what she didn't want.

Children? Her children were already suffering. She must leave. She almost snarled at the old monk, and would have berated him in a tongue that he likely wouldn't know. She wasn't normally prone to violence, but she must leave, even if that meant turning on someone who was once an ally. Before she could, though, she trembled slightly as another presence made itself known.

Zhystkrexas.

He wasn't wrong. Eyra had earned her ire the moment she betrayed her. Betrayed the Deep. She would send her children after Eyra as soon as she saved them from their own slumber. The ones that were left, at any rate. She bowed her head in slight thanks to the defiler. While she wasn't overly fond of him, she didn't hate him. She found him...curious, but she would never allow his presence in the Deep. Not without constant supervision from one of her most faithful.

...if she had any left. She couldn't feel any of her children. Their voices were silent....

She shook her head, and turned her gaze briefly back to the chamber where they had been kept. As much as she also wished to leave, she had a certain fondness for the Dragon. She would wait a moment longer, only to see if he would be quick about his little duels.

It likely would make her a bit of a target for some of the guards, but it wasn't like she couldn't defend herself.

I watched the other soldiers gathering their weapons and readied to charge at me, but the one that attacked me first stopped them. "He killed a close friend of mine, he is mine to kill!" he shouted out, despite being one of the more slender of the group. Such bravery, honor to a comrade, I was impressed by this mortal. A chuckle escaped me as the man seemed offended, ready to jab at me with his pike, "Whats so funny, tyrant!" he hissed. I looked back to him, lowering my weapon. "You wish to slay me?" for a moment the man seemed disarmed in thoughts, as saying such a thing out loud, for a mortal to kill a child of Aton, was absurd. Nonetheless, he remained determined "Yes!" I'd give him a warm smile, seeing my sister Nefas watch me reminded me she wasn't too fond of violence, yet I figured she must have been waiting for me. And aside from that, this mortal amused me.

I would approach the challenger, moving his weapon aside, and lowered myself so we were eye-level. "Far too young, train and come back to me in 10 years, call my name and I will find you. We will have our own duel then, and perhaps you will have your chance to avenge your friend, my student." Finishing talking to him, I would walk off, weapons still pointed at me. They posed little threat to me, even in this flawed body. "Therelon, I would like to speak with you after we all catch up with lost times." I said as I moved up the stairs, passing Nefas. "I assume you are going back to the abyss you call the deep?"

Nod was not a creature given to irony. Had he been, he would have appreciated the fact that, for one who needed no help fighting his battles, there was no dearth of people willing to pledge themselves to him. Indeed, for most mortals, the choice between serving the demigod warrior or getting in his way was often no choice at all. So had it been for his people, the Golgoth, at the dawn of time, and so it was now, deep within the Republic. Once he ascended the Spire and breached the lower level of the prison fortress that sat atop the Pit, it was simplicity itself to intimidate more than a few of the guards into forswearing their oaths and bend their knees to him. They were common infantrymen, after all, not the honored Pit Guard. They held no fanatical loyalty to Eyra or the Etruscan Republic. They only wished to live, and at the moment, their best chance of that was in the service of the Great Beast.

The fortress prison was in chaos. Loyal guardsmen found themselves locked in sudden and brutal battle against Nod's new soldiers, their ranks bolstered by the freed prisoners. Most of these convicts were but rabble: cutthroats and thieves, bandits and blasphemers. Few fighters among them, but their numbers were vast, and their anger a force to be harnessed. The grand melee swelled throughout the keep, and it would only be a matter of time before the outer gates were thrown asunder, and the Children's escape completed.

Nod stalked through the corridors of the prison, a great tapestry draped across his enormous shoulders like a mantle. It was emblazoned with the colors of Etruscia, and it gave Nod pleasure to reduce the symbol of Eyra's dominion into something with which to wipe his arse. Already the wounds he had sustained in the fight against the Pit Guard were stitching themselves shut, though at a much slower rate than he would have liked.

He growled. Much of his power was gone from him, spread across the vast multitudes of the little squeaking apes that fell like wheat before him. How could the Seer have allowed such ruin to come to the Children? And for what? To protect these weaklings? These frail and rather tasteless mortals, whose brief lives were the very definition of pointlessness and impermanence?

"MadNeSS."

And his brethren. It disgusted him to consider himself akin to them. Even as he clawed his way to the surface, even as he turned the prison fortress upside down, he could still feel them down in the Pit, waiting, talking, planning. His hands shook with rage at their impotence, their uncertainty. Even now, after a thousand years of betrayal and imprisonment, they would rather wring their hands and cow their heads and wait for someone else to make the first move. The cowards. He would have torn into them, all of them, then and there, but there was nothing to be gained. They would only have joined together against him, and even he could not stand against all of his brethren. He would have been destroyed, and his vengeance on Eyra would be delayed by a lengthy reincarnation.

Let them remain where they were, chained by nothing but their own dithering lack of conviction. It only gave him the time he needed to claim this prison for himself. Once the last of Eyra's loyalists had been gutted and burned, the castle would make a mighty redoubt from which to marshal his strength, a stronghold that would form the seat of his new empire on earth.

They took away his power. He would take it back, if he had to personally tear every scrap of its essence from the broken body of every man, woman, and mewling child in existence.

The Chamber of the Gods glowed stark-white after the leaching of its color, and against the white backdrop stood a colossus whose black form seemed to drink in the brightness of the room. He stood like a shadow, his arms arranged into artistic positions as he stood like a candelabra before the shattered remains of the once treacherous bowl. The first pair of arms were raised above his head, index fingers touching thumbs to form circles between them, while the remaining three fingers were raised and curled likes crescent blades. The second pair were crossed before a chest, muscles swollen with strength and seemingly chiseled from obsidian rock. The third pair had their palms pressed together in a prayer. The fourth were wide open with the palms turned up and fingers curled up toward the ceiling.

A rock-like crackle resonated throughout the chamber amidst the clashing of blades and fleeing of demigods. The fingers of the fourth pair of arms had budged as the joints of the demigod popped in the first time in years. Sheets of dust tumbled from the titan’s hands and arms as vibrations of movement passed throughout his body. Like ice cracking free from a mountain side, the sounds of loosening tendon were heard as the arms of the statue moved fluidly curling inward toward his chest and face like the legs of an arachnid.

Red slits sliced across the demigod’s face, slowly widening as a pair of white-burning suns gazed upon the circular chamber. They took in the bowl and the lingering Children. The titan’s chest swelled as the air whistled as it was sucked into his nostrils like a great vacuum. His chest swelled, expanding. His lips rolled back presenting jagged black teeth before his jaws parted as a mighty yawn shook the hall like the roar of a divine beast. The demigod’s arms stretched as high as they could, his arms elongating to touch the ceiling, palms going flat against it as his fingers inspected the stone’s thickness. When his teeth came back together, his arms lowered, rippling as they contracted in length back to their normal proportions.

When the demigod took his first step, the entire Pit knew and not just those in his presence. The floor quaked with his every step, shards of the bowl shattered further beneath his feet. Kalik’s arms continued to stretch as he walked. He stepped over the corpse of Therelon’s Devoted, even the titan being so large was not clumsy. He raised his great foot above the heads of the guards who had once been transfixed by the match between the dragon and his descendant but were now frozen in awe by the giant that smoothly passed by them, his passing felt like a gust.

A few guards turned, reluctant to give chase. How many of them would it had taken to stop a demigod of that size?

Down a corridor in the direction the titan was walking, five guards were kneeling, clinging to the walls as they endured what felt like an earthquake shaking the floor. The vibrations grew harsher as those who managed to peer up from the floor saw what appeared to be a dark silhouette approaching them. They had to crane their heads higher to see the crimson eyes that were gleaming in the dark.

“Wha-what? What is that?” a guard whimpered.

The other guard across from him frowned and gulped down a dry lump of anxiety. “One of the gods…”

“H-how are we supposed to stop that!?”

Sliding his bow from his shoulder, the other guard reached behind his head to remove an arrow from his quiver and nocked it.

“You think that little arrow is going to stop it?”

“They’re not as strong as they used to be.”

The other pit guards began to draw their bows and nock their arrows. A second before they released them, the doubtful guard’s eyes widened in fright when he saw a third eye appear on the giant’s forehead. The arrows whistled into the darkness, and the demigod abruptly stopped. One of his hands backhanded the arrows and the doubtful guard could hear them clatter against the wall. It had happened so fast. So fast that he wasn’t given a second to react. The demigod’s same hand had shot over his head. He felt only a gust washing over him and a loud THOOM! as the titan’s hand slammed down upon the three pit guard’s that had been behind him. Both he and his comrade stood in stunned silence as they heard the bones being crushed as the giant’s hand gathered the bodies of their squad into a fist. When he retracted it, blood slapped audibly and dribbled upon the floor and sprinkled the heads of the surviving guards.

The legs of the doubtful guard then gave out beneath him as he dropped to his knees in a hopeless stupor, while the guard across from him slumped against the wall to regard the demigod with an empty stare. They watched as the titan brought his fist to his mouth and began feasting on the guards’ bodies, crunching and slurping up their remains. Kalik splayed his fingers as his white-glowing tongue reached like a lengthy slug to lap the blood from his fingers. It had been the first thing he had eaten in ages and a pleased rumble escaped his throat.

“Mere raaste mein jao aur tum mar jaega,” they felt the titan’s voice in their chests, gripping their lungs. The guards hadn’t understood him, but they had made no move to halt his path toward the stairwell. As they near hugged the walls, the demigod walked by and was soon able to see the grand spiraling staircase that led to the surface.

Therelon looked the Kilgarrah. "Whatever Eyra has done with the world in our absence, my Tower still stands." It knew this to be true—even though it was much too far away to feel the Tower's magic, ancient and mighty, there was no way it could not be standing. Eyra at her strongest could not tear it down, the desert would not touch it, and whatever fool mortals dared to try would find that the Tower was a unwelcoming to such intrusions.

Its eyes fell once again to the human before it. The dead Devoted. Kilgarrah is right. He shall have a place of honor amongst his forebears. It did not share Wu-Dan's conviction in the Pit, though it was too loathe to agree with Zhystkrexas on any matter to say as much. Perhaps Binding was not wholly folly, but the Pit was lost. The enchantment was broken, and could not be remade in pitched battle—least of all now.

Therelon cradled the dead, and, magic coursing through its every muscle and tendon, stood. Magic alone would not be enough to leave from here. Its own designs had made sure enough of that—and while the ripples of the Binding's destruction spelled doom for that enchantment, it was simpler, and so far more stable. But that working did not draw its power to Therelon, and so it mattered only insofar as its departure was impeded.

And so I must walk.

As they wake

When the six eyes of Tahrthus opened themselves they saw it all. The child once imagined being freed from its chains. And now the child's imagination was the warriors reality. The old woman however could only see the time they were imprisoned and by whom.
Revenge was not really a concept Tarthus completely understood but he knew it would be the goal of his children.

When he left the cell in his true form he brought death with him. Since many guards were already killed and his siblings had destroyed them with their incredible power Tarthus smiled. The Guards paid the ultimate price, it was their time to die.
However those guards who were still alive fought fanatical. The Dragon King slew one and spared another. But was he blind?
This soldiers time had come. Clearly it was Tarthus who had to do it.

The great black three faced body shrunk, as it revealed a warrior in fine black armor, wielding a long sword and a shield. The warrior pointed his sword at the still perplexed guard. "Fight me." And the guard did, although it did not last long, perhaps the Dragon King was right. This soldier needed more training. But it was Tarthus way to see a live that must be taken and do it accordingly.

The guards were not even close a match to what the children threw at them. The colossal, six armed figure of his brother smashed them like insects, while all the blood and headless corpses indicated that Nod was already gone. Tarthus looked at the stairs, he would leave too.

As she waited, Nod raged above. She could hear the din of battle easily. The voices that were being extinguished, crying out for someone to save them. In the past...she would have offered them salvation from that inky abyss. That deep, dark, place where all their sins would be laid bare. She would have offered them a place at her side. But now? Now, she chose to let these guards die. She was merciful, but her mercy had long since faded for the humans. They made their bed, now they must lay in it.

Her head turned from above, back to the ground. The Dragon approached.

"I assume you are going back to the abyss you call the deep?" He asked, walking past her.

"Yes." She simply replied. "Away too long. It is quiet. Children...silent." She sounded mournful as she walked up the stairs after Kilgarrah, though it would be obvious she was having difficulty communicating with the same words as he. "I will...rest for awhile. Must rebuild." It didn't take the pair long to reach the two of the stairs, arriving right in the middle of Nod's melee. She simply shook her head at the spectacle, but said nothing. These humans brought this upon themselves, and she had no desire to help or save any of them.

In fact, that anger from earlier was boiling. Slowly bubbling, creeping. Crawling. The Deep that had been silent for so long was starting to roil with her waking. Any of her children that were not slumbering at the bottom of the oceans or the deep that they called home, would likely notice. If not...well, she had the perfect way to wake them from their slumber, if there were any left. If a millennia within the Deep without their Queen Mother hadn't driven them all insane, that is.

"We will meet later, Kilgarrah...the Deep is empty. For now...I demand blood. The Deep roils. I anger. Not one for violence...but my children were murdered...will take the same from the Traitorous Eyra..." With that, she walked away from the Dragon in the direction of the loudest cacophony she could hear of swords clashing and armor clanging. She wanted to see the Chaos of battle that Nod and likely his new followers were making for herself.

She was both disappointed by the sight, and not. Guardsmen of the prison and castle were fighting against their former prisoners. Several noticed her, and turned their weapons towards her, though they seemed to hesitate in attacking. Perhaps they didn't wish to provoke someone they didn't have too. Not that it mattered.

She didn't bother speaking to the humans. They wouldn't understand, and she wasn't feeling talkative. She simply gave them a dismissive, though somewhat curious stare as long, tan, fleshy appendage extended from one of her arms, wrapping around one of the guards own arm. The guard cried out in sudden pain as his arm was forcefully twisted, dropping his sword as it clattered against the ground.

Seeing she was foe, not friend, a second guard tried to free the first by cutting the fleshy appendage that held his comrade.

Useless.

A second appendage wrapped around his waist, and she slammed the guard into the wall, dead on impact. The first was brought to her. The guard couldn't manage to say anything, not even a cry for help as air was forced from his lungs. When he was brought before her, she placed a hand on his forehead.

Snap

crrrrack

Horrifying sounds of bones snapping filled the immediate area. Blood dripped down the mangled guards body as the appendage continued to squeeze the blood from the human, almost as if she was attempting to drain him of the substance. Soon, the appendage had found its way into the cranium of the guard.

A gurgled cry for help, then silence. The guards watching, couldn't look away from the horrifying scene, likely thinking this was one of the sealed demons. They wouldn't be completely wrong, either.

The bloody, now broken and mangled body laid limp. She tossed the body aside, the humans carcass falling before the feet of the other guards. She turned her gaze to them, tilting her head in a somewhat quizzical manner as she stared at them, wondering what they would do next. A few took a step back. One stumbled backwards, falling to the floor.

Well, that was the smart thing to do here, wasn't it? But they wouldn't be getting away so easily.

Soon, the jail above quaked with the presence of another giant sized demigod. The castle and jail was small for the four story tall creature that now stood where Nefas once stood, but that was fine. She would make her own doors. Two of her arms slammed into the ground, silencing the cries of some mortals who were caught under her grip. An otherworldly cry echoed from her head, her other four arms slammed into the ceiling with force to make the structure quake. The humans beneath her began to flee, fearing being caught by the monstrosity they now faced.

And the ceiling fell.