Watching the destruction follow in the paths of Nod and Nefas, I decides it was time to leave. My siblings were either already leaving or at decimating their numbers. I felt pity for the guards, to be slaughtered so easily and to die by the thousands. I wondered how many of them were my descendants, fighting now for Eyra instead of me. Such thoughts made me realize I had to rebuild my tribe. But such a task shall be started later, I wished to speak with my sister who had trapped us here so long ago. I needed to get to her first so the more vengeful siblings couldn't inflict such wrath upon her. However I was still enraged at what she did to me.

I pulled over a guard that had been knocked aside by the debris of the falling cieling, his comrades likely all crushed. He was criitcially injured and he looked to be wearingly. "I will save you're life if you tell me where the godmother is. I swear on my honor that I will not harm her." The soldier looked up at me, contemplating and desperate not to die. Such a mortal was easy to convince in such situations. "T-the palace." Hearing her location, I'd let go of him, rapidly starting to transform. Grey flesh and bone consumes my armor and human figure as I became a massive and slender lizard-like beast, releasing a trembling roar before I would engulf the man in my mouth. Instead of swallowing him id rest his body in my car sized tongue, and would sprint and trample through the pit.

My body wasn't big enough for the narrowing hallways of the staircase, so my stone-like scales and sharp barbs and spikes tore apart the structures to make room. I'd trample over squadrons of soldiers, move past familiar siblings like kozz and Chinasa, and eventually decided to instead tunnel through the earth around me instead, my horns and claws tearing apart bricks and stone, eventually reaching soil and then the surface. Breaching from a street in the city,the locals watching would scream in horror as I quickly scaled over a few buildings.

It had been so long since I felt the warm embrace of the sun, and my reptilian body made full effort to bask in it while laying over a roof of a building. Id spit the man, who was crippling in injury and disgust of saliva, out in front of me. "Where is the palace?" He would shiver a bit as he was truly horrified, but he'd point east. Perhaps some miles away I could see a building that could be described as a palace, but the distance was great. I'd pick up the soldier again, once more into my mouth, and would sprint off to the massive building in the far distance. Plowing through buildings and trees as my body did not take the time to go over obstacles, instead rushing through them.

Chinasa came to an abrupt stop once he sensed Wu-Dan appear before him, he was a moment slower than he hoped, but his senses had not dulled. A sharp, audible tsk sliced the air at the grandmaster's... lecture. He was not pleased with it. The old man was wise but he did not have the right to lecture him.

The feel of his staff grew firm in his grasp. The thought of turning Wu-Dan white then tossing him to the wind invaded his consciousness. It was a grandiose calling in his mentalspace, one that echoed for far longer than he had expected. It was a challenger's pulsing heart, he thought.

"I do as I please. No one orders me around," he told the Grandmaster, his staff tilting in his grasp and slowly filling with power.

Once he noticed a swirling chill rupture in his stomach, he turned an uncaring gaze towards the figure in the shadows. This child was one of the ones he despised completely.

Chinasa was content to be idle while the two worked out an interesting plan. The children would go after Eyra together. Chinasa was onboard with this and afterwards, he would make it his job to kill the demonic child too. Wu-Dan soon granted him passage and without hesitance, Chinasa took it. He sprinted up the stairs--ignoring his draconic siblings' makeshift exit--with powerful leaps, his lion legs taking the stairs by five or six at a time. The impossibly wide stairs was a blur that was recognizable only the change of the walls. The dark place seemed to whiten with every step he took, bending to his pale will.

Once outside the maw of the cave, Chinasa froze... stunned by the radical change around him.

He took steps, twisting his head to grasp his bearing. Where was he? When was he? A thousand years had passed but so much had happened in that time. His feral fangs became demonic, so had his angelic face. "Which way!?", he wondered with a reluctance that threatened to pull him back to the Dragon King.

While Kalikmo, Nefas, Kilgarrah and the other children freed themselves and made their way towards the surface, fighting the Pit Guard and the jail above, some demons were slow to wake from their imprisonment. Not all were filled with rage at their imprisonment. Some, were half dead. Without the life giving sunlight or the soft, fertile soil to sustain her or her plants...this was quite the accurate description for the inhabitants of one of the cells. Even just a sliver of light illuminating the cell would have made it so much easier on the Dryad, but no, the humans had to be cruel and add insult to injury. When she was first brought here, the soft amber light of her own life illuminated the cell dimly, but that had long since faded.

Within her cell, she had resigned herself to rotting until the end of time. Though she was in a half dazed state, she could feel her dry limbs lacking water, creaking and groaning with pain at the slightest movement. The dry, cracked bark was even devoid of the soft moss that once covered it, she was sure. She couldn't feel it on her, after all. Her glorious crown of bark and roots also had withered, and long since fallen into the ground. That's what she was now, after all. A withered husk of a once mighty, destined to simply fade away into nothing.

And then something unexpected happened.

It felt almost as if a cool breeze washed over her dehydrated, withered body. A soft amber colored glow covered the room as the spark of the forest once again lit inside of her. It was small, and barely was enough to light the entire room in its soft, warm glow, but it was there. She didn't entirely realize what was happening at first, but she could hear shouts from outside, drawing her from her stupor as little green tufts of moss began growing on her oaken body. Was...had the prison been...opened?

She attempted to move a hand, but was only greeted with the rattling of chains, restraining her movement. Right. She had been chained as well as locked away. Were the humans really that afraid of the forest? Afraid of her? She couldn't understand that. She wouldn't hurt them as long as they kept their hands out of her forests, but they would never do that, at least that's what she had convinced herself.

Not that it mattered. She somehow regained a little bit of her power, and so she must get out of here. If she lingered any longer, any life she might have might just wither away. She might be reborn again if that happens, but she rather liked living and not dying.

A small, ethereal sounding groan echoed through the iron chamber as she strained her arm against the restraints, the bark mask she wore for a face completely unmoving. There was a loud grunt of exertion as the iron chains on one of her wrists were freed, the old chain snapping and coming off. She'd have the shackles removed later, for now she had to free the rest of her body. The other chains quickly followed as she lifted her head from her chest, and rose slowly to the ground.

The entire action took quite a while, and she was likely late to whatever party was happening outside, though she could still hear the shouts and cries of the pit guards, followed by a loud THOOM! as something caused the entire prison to shudder slightly. Sounded angry, whoever he was. The oaken creature shambled over to the door on her Cell, and gave it an experimental push, but it didn't open.

Welp, she'd have to do this the hard way then. Now that she was moving a bit, she could feel her power returning ever so slightly. It wasn't anywhere near as powerful as she was in the past, but if the greenery growing on her form now was any indication, she was much more lively. Still, her body felt fragile and weak, so she'd have to be careful, right?

...naaah.

Although, she did have no idea what was going on out there, and chances were, there were humans. Might want to look the part, at least a little, no? She didn't much like looking like those humans unless she must, but this might call for some stealth, at least she was confident she could flirt her way out of anything. Mortals were so easy to fool and play with. Especially then men~

The bark on her body was consumed by countless numbers of dry, brown leaves. In the past, they would have been vibrant green or white, depending on the season, but now? Well, it didn't matter. As bark turned to flesh, she beat on the door...and the door blasted off it's hinges, slamming into the other side of the wall, a flurry of leaves following it.

in hindsight, that was probably a bad idea.

"Ow ow ow...!" She pouted a bit as she shook her right hand, trying to ignore the pain she was now feeling. Ugh, by the Great Tree! Why did that hurt so much?! Was she really that weak, now? For the love of all that was holy and green she hoped someone had invited some super fertilizer that didn't involve animal manure in the time she had been locked up. She'd have to bathe in the stuff if she wanted to reach anywhere near her former level of ability in a timely fashion!

Before she could do much else though, she noticed one thing.

It was really cold down here. They should build a fire or something. Baby little trees like her didn't like being cold. They also didn't like fire too much, but that was besides the point.

The second thing she noticed, was that pretty much every God and Demon had been freed. And here she was slightly hoping she was a special little flower, more than she already was.

Right then...so what should she do? Aside from leave before she wilted completely? If she had even bothered to check her human appearance, she would have noticed a few wrinkles on her skin along with her hair being frayed and dry to the touch, complete with dark bags under her eyes. To anyone else, it'd probably be obvious the Dryad wasn't feeling her best after being completely out of touch with her forest for so long.

Therelon stepped out into madness. The guards of the Pit were being torn apart by the freed Children of Aton. The air was filled with the sounds of fear and death, and the smells of blood and urine. There was a scream behind it. It turned its head to find one of the Pit guards charging it, sword raised. Normally, Therelon would deal with its assailant with magic, but being both laden with the corpse of its Devoted, and channeling all of its magic into physical power to carry that burden, Therelon was unable to do so.

So instead, it brought one of its taloned feet to bear against the warrior's head. It collided with his helmet with what, if the air was clear of noise, would have been a resounding hit.

What.

Therelon had used such a maneuver in the days before the Pit. The magic-born strength of the blow and the sharpness of its talons had been enough to tear through any metal forged by mortal hands. But now it had failed to do so.

The Pit Guard fell to the ground, unconscious. Therelon returned its foot to the ground.

I knew I felt weaker, but I had thought it accounted for by powering the Pit for so long, but that wouldn't appear to be the case.

Another warrior charged Therelon. Therelon kicked him as well, this time in the gap between helmet and cuirass, tearing a gash in his throat. He fell to the floor

Having constructed the Pit, I know for a fact that there was no aspect of it that would siphon power to anyone else, and Eyra lacked the skill to alter the enchantment without causing it to collapse. The most probabl—

Yet again, Therelon was charged. This time by a woman. Therelon dispatched her all the same.

This is not a suitable place for deduction.

The stone above Therelon groaned. It had only a moment to see that its Sister had struck at the roof before it began to bear down on him. This was not an assailant Therelon could effectively kick.

Therelon was in the air in an instant. It released, for the first time, the Devoted it carried, trusting in momentum to keep it aloft. Therelon's power was drawn out of its muscles, out of its ligaments and tendons, and brought to bear on the falling stone. With a mighty flap of its great wings, Therelon sent raw force hurtling against the roof, blasting it apart enough that it could fit through.

Therelon circled around under the Devoted, and, magic surging once more through its body, ascended through the opening that it had created.

Analos was the greatest city in the world, a sprawling metropolis of over a hundred thousand inhabitants. Built on a cliffside along the Etruscae River, it was the beating heart of the world, a chaotic mesh of cultures from all corners of the world, merchants from Xochimillia peddling their wares to visiting Qayu tribesmen. More than any other city in the world, it was truly alive.

It was also a city of beauty. Of course, the lower, southern portion, as well as the dockside, was little better than a slum, extending far beyond the city walls themselves like weeds. As one climbs the hill, though, the shantytown gave way to elegant architecture and spires that rose high as if to pierce the skies. The temples became increasingly grandiose, the manors ever more opulent. And then, at the highest point, on the very edge of the sheer cliff which dropped north, was the Golden Palace. To be sure, it was not so much a single palace as a ring of them. The complex was large enough to house thousands, and was ringed by its own squat walls, a city within the city. The only entrance was through the Senatorium, a great domed edifice in which the Senate sat weekly to discuss matters of state. Citizens, through toil, loyalty, and the favor of the Godmother, could eventually find themselves sitting there. But the Palace proper was not fit for mortal soles to tread. Only the Pit Guard, those whose devotion to the Godmother was unsurpassed and unquestioned, lived there with the Seer herself, defending her from harm and carrying out her will.

The senate floor was full that day, all dignitaries of important being present, as well as half a century of Pit Guards, wearing their ceremonial battle-armor next to which the largest man seems a dwarf. Large as the chamber was, it was full to the brim now, and the most powerful men and women in the world were packed as if they were peasants. This they tolerated, as the event was one that only occurred once in a lifetime; a chance to see Eyra in the flesh, for mortal eyes to gaze upon the divine.

As she entered the chamber, walking into the concentric podium at the center, all noise died, and an eery silence echoed throughout the chamber. She was garbed in a ragged robe, the kind one could find on a beggar, but for an aristocracy accustomed to the opulence in all things, especially the more religiously fervent portion, that kind of aggressive simplicity only increased their awe. The youth she displayed while moving, in complete contrast with her evident decrepitude, was striking as well: the last time she had walked into the senate floor in such a way, she had been unable to move without assistance. Now she strode forward with all the vigor of someone half her age- or rather, someone half the age she appeared to be.

Next to her walked a bone-thin, aging man whose bleached, soulless eyes made several bystanders recoil. He was the personal servant of Eyra, and, it was rumored, the latest scion of a long line which had done so for a thousand years. The pathway on which they walked was fenced off by the wall of flesh and steel that were the Pit Guards, and on top of the three concentric levels that made up the central podium, three other Pit Guards stood, awaiting her. She took her place among them, and turned to the surrounding crowd, her piercing gaze sweeping the mass of nobles.

Time was of the essence; she couldn’t afford to get bogged down dancing around the issue. Bluntness was key here.

Arching her head upwards, she went for the most dramatic flair she could, and not for the first time marvelled at- and was frightened by- the lack of pain which accompanied the movement. “The Dark Gods are returning to our world. The end of an age is upon us, this I know.”

Hm. Maybe that was too blunt.

A reign of dumbfounded silence loomed in the hall, and she knew only their perfect discipline stopped the surrounding Pit Guards from looking back at her. She hadn’t told the rank and file about that yet, but their no doubt stupefied expressions were thankfully hidden behind their faceless helmets.

“I’ve already sent a dispatch to mobilize the legions for the trials to come,” she pressed on after a suitably dramatic pause. “They will be sorely needed, as the Demons will no doubt attempt to destroy this great city, symbol as it is of good and purity. The Legio Etruscia I have recalled, so that they might defend the citizens of the capital.” And, more importantly, because her siblings would be radiating from the Pit, which was close enough to Analos for that convenient excuse to work. “In addition, the provincial governors are to keep their legions on full alert, and crack down on demon worship and heresy wherever it is found.”

“It pains me to say that the Angels are returning to life as well, and tragically corrupted. Their brave sacrifices a thousand years ago during the great War seem to have corrupted them; now, they seek only to serve the Demons and destroy mankind. They will wear faces of benevolence, but carry black malice in their hearts. This I know to be true.”

“But we will not be defenceless in front of these horrors!” she continued, waving in the direction of the three Pit Guards on the podium with her. “Noble defenders of the Republic, show your faces.” The three did so, albeit hesitantly, confusing plain on their faces. They are not meant to understand, she reflected. Only to obey. There were three branches of the Pit Guards: Those who defended the Golden Palace, those who garrisoned the Pit, and secretly, those who travelled the world, bringing her will into fruition and weeding out her enemies wherever they hid.

Of this last categories, the men before her were the finest. On the left was Gamello, the shortest, with black hair and dead eyes. He was always silent, she’d been told, but brutally effective. He’d made quite a name of himself among the Guard for his impressive portfolio of assassinations and subterfuge. To the right stood Darian, a youthful cur who sought women and wine, but whose unparalleled talent with a blade made him a terror in combat. And Nadric was in the center, a palpable sense of authority giving him away as the centurion in charge of Pit Guard operations throughout the Republic. Honorable and courteous she knew him to be from past experience, but with a brutally ruthless mind, his calculations of cost and gain beyond completely devoid of emotion or empathy.
They would do.

“We have heroes such as these to defend our towns and defeat the dark ones,” Eyra said, placing her hand on Darian’s shoulder plate. He flinched, face twitching, before collapsing on the ground, unconscious. She almost buckled herself, having now lost all the vigor she was just enjoying moments previously. It’d been so long since she’d empowered heroes like this; she’d forgotten how draining it was. Nevertheless, she forced herself to move on as if nothing were wrong. To their credit, the two others remained motionless as statues, either discipline or fanaticism too great to question the turn of events.

“I give you my blessing, and that of the heavens,” she said as she grasped Nadric’s shoulder, before he too collapsed. “Swords will not maim you, not arrows find their mark. Fate will protect you as only it can.” Next was Gamello, who, sure enough, went down as well. “You will act as the champions of humanity, and push back evil wherever it appears. Your names shall be legends. This I know.”

She turned around and left, feeling like a corpse walking. The Pit Guard she left to disperse the audience, who were only now beginning to shake off the shock of what they had just witnessed. They would discuss on the practical concerns involved now, she knew, or rather pretend to focus on them while feasting or making love to their cousins. Not for the first time she wondered whether they needed to be culled; but she was far too tired for that now. As she was helped out of the hall by her servant, simple breathing seeming as difficult as climbing a mountain, she reflected on what was to come.

I’d better set the Palace guard on high alert, she thought wearily. No doubt we'll soon have visitors aplenty.

He wandered. His wounds bled and smarted and eventually scarred, but the Forgemaster was unmoved. Kozz left the city with a trail of senseless but very much still breathing warriors behind him. There was only one thing on his mind, even if his meandering path suggested little direction to his travels, and that was to return to the only thing he knew. The Forge. His forge to be exact, buried within the mountains of his former people in the north. It would take him perhaps two days with his great lumbering strides to reach the land of the Barun, but until then he wished to see how the world had changed. There was nothing he could do to return things to the way they were, so while he wished the world could continue without him and his troublesome siblings, he willed away such fancies and tried to learn. Acclimatizing himself to a world he had not been a part of for centuries would not be an easy task, but like all the Children, he had naught but time.

Some of the Children would likely march against Eyra immediately and seek their revenge, tearing the land asunder in their quest for the witch’s blood. Kozz chose not to be among them, but with his monstrous visage gaining attention everywhere he went he would be unlikely to escape the ensuing battle. Humanity resented the return of the Children, as they should, and it was in their nature to fight change that threatened their lives. He could not fault them for such action, for he would do the same. In just a day of travel Kozz travelled miles upon miles, and saw much. Most of what he saw interested him and pleased him, the ingenuity of humans had not suffered too greatly from his absence. One thing however enflamed the Cyclops, the use of fire and steel in such unholy matrimony as to undo the works of a thousand years. Gunpowder. Rifles. Cannon. His greatest work had been bastardised, militarised, turned against the work that came before it and proven superior, but at what cost?

I stopped, spitting out the guard who was either Dead or unconscience from his condition. I was lost, which doesn't suprise me in the slightest as I have no wings to soar above the land anymore. Nonetheless, I had to persevere. The Wilds I was lost in was unchanged, or at least, its heart was. But I had no people to return to, no territory to dwell in. My legacy has been erased due to my absence. I wished to speak to my sister, the one who caused it all. I wished for no bloodshed, no petty vengeance. Perhaps if I was realized I would have nothing more then to slay my former ally in honorable combat, but now that thought has passed. Negativity gone. Besides she just wanted to protect the mortals, even if the idea was selfish and foolish, it was in good heart. Or at least I hoped it did. Still, such notions are futile, men and women die, regardless of what you keep away from them.

I looked to the motionless, saliva ridden guard. I made a promise I would get him out alive for his services, I refuse to believe he gave me faulty guidance out of malice. I'd shrink back into my human form, grabbing the man by the back and gently rested him over me. The saliva helped his wounds stop bleeding, but he was still in critical condition. I would gather various plants and would wrap them around his major wounds and cuts to the best of my ability. The work was shoddy, but enough to prevent later bleeding. I didn't know how to check for a pulse, so I had faith he was still alive. I decided to rest in the wilderness with him in the meantime, with a strike of my lance I would send a tree severed from its base and onto the forest floor. I'd begin to make various logs of wood from the fallen tree, then stacked it, and lit it on fire with a mere breathe of fire. after it started burning up, I'd rest the stranger comfortably near the bonfire, then I would take a seat myself on the top of the wood, my entire body becoming engulfed in flames. Such heat was comfortable, and I would begin to doze off in a sitting position, as smoke and fire towering into the forest.

Walking...so much walking had to be had. In her monstrous form, at least she could move quickly and shield herself from the eyes of any mortals that she crossed on her travels. She had...gotten perhaps a bit carried away back in the Pit, and she felt what some humans might call remorse over her actions. Many humans died that day, but there was ultimately no way around it, so there was ultimately little she could do. Hopefully, those that had survived...some small few might have been allured by the Deep. She could only hope so...the more humans decided to seek out her and her city, meant that the more people she could also save from her and her kins wrath.

How far was she from the ocean? She could ultimately reach her previous home from anywhere as long as she could find the ocean. Judging from the distance, she still had perhaps a few more days of walking to do. If she had a mouth to sigh with in this form, she would have. Well, there was nothing she could do, really. So the Lady of the Deep continued to walk through the forest, towards the ocean. She was careful not to cause too much of a ruckus, she did not wish for any conflicts at the moment.

Still, all this walking was getting rather tiring. Perhaps a small rest might be in order. So the lumbering creature, still invisible to the minds of most humans sat, laying its back against a mighty oak, letting its numerous arms rest as it took a brief respite, turning its head in the direction it had thought the capital was.

Eyra likely would have visitors from some of her more rash kin, but that was foolish. She was angry, and she wanted revenge herself...she demanded blood after her children had been ruthlessly killed for no reason at all. But there was a time and place for everything. First...she needed to rebuild her city. Gain followers, reinstate the old rites and worship of her. It'd likely take awhile, but that was fine...she was patient.

But not patient enough to allow herself more than a few moments of rest.

The creature stood again, and continued through the forest towards the ocean.



"Ahh, it feels so good~ being in a forest again!~" She giggled idly to herself. She didn't know which forest this was, or where it was exactly in the grand scheme of things, but it was far from her forest, that much she was certain. Not that she particularly cared much. If she wanted to make this forest hers, she'd do it regardless of who or what else was living here. She had half a mind to do such a thing, too. The forest here looked absolutely listless. A thousand years ago, most forests were so lively and green! Sure this one was green, and there were animals and things, but...it just wasn't the same.

Still, even she knew hanging around this close to the capital was likely a bad idea. She may have been slightly flaky sometimes, but she wasn't an idiot. Even so, it was a good idea to plant some roots here and regain some of her lost energy. She was weak...no way around that. After a day of travel, there really was no way around that, and while the number of humans played a major factor in her power, there was also a bit plant like in her needs, and being locked up in that cave really did a number on her.

So, for now, the Dryad found what she was fairly certain was the center of the forest, and made the closest tree there, her home. She almost wanted a cute little human to stumble upon her - that'd make this entire day even more better! A cute little girl or boy, it didn't really matter; She could have her fun with either.

She'd have to lose the bark thought...that'd likely scare a few of them away.

"Hey, you guys are gonna tell me if a human wanders in here, yeah?~" She asked the tree.

"Hehe, good!~ I'ma get some sun, so you guys wake me up." She then found the nearest tree, and with that, found a small clearing not far away, and stood...as motionlessly as any oak as sunlight fell upon her.

The green had all been passed long ago. The pale and dusty tan of the Koyati waste swept under Therelon as it soared through the clear skies. From the ground, an observer might have convinced themselves that what they saw was merely a large bird, were it not for the distinctly human-shaped load it carried. Nixus, mortal guardian of the Pit, and, secretly, one of Therelon's long suffering Devoted. For all Therelon knew, perhaps he had been the very last. And now he was dead in his master's arms.

If he truly is the last, then blood shall pay for blood.

The journey had been delayed. A great storm of sand had been risen by the desert winds, and Therelon had to adjust its course by several miles to avoid it. But now, shining brilliantly under the harsh, Koyati sun, just risen over the horizon, stood its Tower. The great structure, unparalleled in height and width and complexity for miles around, was unchanged despite the passing of a millennium. Save for one thing.

As Therelon descended to the Tower's entrance, it found the archway blocked. The great doors were gone, and in their place was a tremendous boulder.

Curious.

The boulder meant that Eyra had wanted to keep mortals out. It was unlikely that much, or really any, of Therelon's collection of tomes and scrolls remained. Perhaps she had wanted to keep it from her enemies, for it was a truly formidable fortress. She certainly had no such use for it—the Tower had steeped in magic since the dawn of time, and knew its master.

And the boulder was not meant for Therelon. Eyra was no fool.

Gently, Therelon placed Nixus' body on the ground. Its magic receded from its flesh and bone. Therelon raised its taloned hand, and the boulder began to rumble. Slowly, the great stone fell forward, sinking into the ground outside the Tower. Therelon took hold of Nixus once more, and, cradling him in its arms.

Therelon, upon reflection, did not know what it expected to find inside its Tower. After one thousand years, there was little hope that its Devoted, despite their power, could have held out against Eyra. But it did not expect to find what remained of the Tower's last defenders.

The floor of the Tower was littered with bones, bleached white by age. They were clustered together in places where bodies had been thrown. Some still bore their arms and armor. Some were small.

It was an invading army.

Therelon stood in the doorway for a time, unmoving. Slowly, it raised one foot and entered the Tower, its talons scraping along the stone floor as its steps dragged.

They pillaged my Tower.

As Therelon reached a large set of stone doors, they opened of their own accord.

They killed my–

The room was circular. The wall, in its single elegant curve, it bore images of the Tower's greatest residents—Talus, who first took the name "Devoted;" Salor, the greatest mortal wielder of the arcane the Tower had seen; Verai, who led its defense against marauding fools who thought to attack while Therelon was away. All these and more—and, upon the roof, its wings spread and talons wreathed in dancing light, was Therelon itself.

This was the Chamber of the Dead.

Nixus' body fell to the floor.

Therelon's talons scraped along the floor.

In the center of the room was a single block of stone, half a man's height, and its length equal to his height. There was no ornamentation of cloth or jewel. No bowls or plates or candles or incense. This was the altar, dedicated to the departed, stripped bare.

Therelon reached the altatr, and saw what ley on the other side. More bones, of all ages.

Upon the altar itself, bones. Female, Therelon could tell, just past the cusp of womanhood.

All Therelon's eyes blurred. The physical reality and the flow of magic twisted and gnarled as its eyes filled with tears. A single, great sob broke from its chest. The Tower shook, dust within and sand without was disturbed. Another sob, and the Tower shook again. Therelon drew in a great, shuddering breath.

---

Across the air was broken. Men and women, children and elders, and soldiers and beggars all clawed at their ears. To some, the sand itself seamed to shake, but no mere physical sight could discern any change. And all at once, it was over. There was great fear, for while word of what had occurred at the Pit had not yet traveled this far south, but all people told stories. Though a paltry few knew what it truly was, every person knew that something had come to the desert.

And what it found there inspired a scream of rage and grief that shook them to their core.

It was no eventful moment in Aethelred's long, long immortality: he'd only stretched his arms before he made his first decision.

Aethelred began by fleeing. 'Twas what he was best at, truth be told; 'twas a gift he was not entirely proud of, but a gift with which he was bestowed. His flaky soul had never felt so lost at that moment, at the moment of his freedom, that it took a while to flee at all, and when he did, he didn't know where to go. The other Children seemed as sure of themselves as they could be in the moment, but fragmented and smashed up. They reminded him of the glass figures on game boards, like so many pieces sent to be smashed against the reinforced defenses of the vague evil of their opponent.

Aethelred's flight had slowed as soon as he left the Pit.

The world, at once as small to him as his finger, was foreign and strange beneath his feet. The craggy rock that speared into his boots felt not like some earthly stuff, nor did the wind on his cheek remind him of the happy breathing of a sated country. This was a world he did not know; a world that had changed over the many, many, many years. In short, Aethelred was lost. Worse than that, Aethelred's bow had vanished.

This problem seemed to solve itself soon enough when Aethelred came upon some lusty forest of little importance save the fact that it had yew branches. Aethelred spent the day of his escape fashioning a new bow out of the finest of these, six foot long when finished, with a strip animal pelt as a bowstring. Shouldering the white bow--for which he lacked arrows--he made his way out of the forest and began to recognize his surroundings.

Skulking across the north was the distant line of the Treacherous Sea, an indigo swell that gashed deep into the land, speared as it was with bald patches and forests.

To the East were the mountains. They rose like they did, only if to explain that they were there to stay. Legend has it that the mountains will grow continuously. Aethelred's eyes traced the tallest peak; a few thousand years had not ruined the view.

To the left--some westerly point on the horizon--there was the glow of the great Capital Analos silhouetted against the setting sun. The rising spires of the city touched off the awe that all travelers experience when approaching, but it is the glow that Aethelred always remembered. No other place gave off such a light, such a positive orb of energy so densely packed that it could be called the sun.

"This Earthly star," he mumbled to himself, "Damned Earthly star."

It was the place that he knew he could not go, at least not yet. The only approach to the city from this direction was the series of gates of the Red Palisade, and it would be easy for any Anglonian to recognize him.

"Not so easy to revere, eh?"

Aethelred watched the city for several minutes before retiring back to the small forest, nestling his body in the crook of a tree limb. Rather than pray like usual, Aethelred slowly recounted the names of all the important landmarks in Etruscia.

"Heaven's Gate..."

A small grunt.

"Three Tree Glen... Laughing Forest... Babel-Fish Cove..."

Aethelred's eyes slowly started to close.

"...Gewisse... Port of Revene... Oldtown..."

The night air kissed his cheeks, the dewy angel descended from on high, and a tear welled in a singular eye.

"...where the hell... am I?"

And Aethelred fell asleep.