"Chieftain! Chieftain! We've found something!" cried several tribesmen as they approached him. He had been expecting this. Waiting for this day. He'd made his preperations, and he steeled his resolve to meet the challenges that still stood before him. The secrets of the world would be his.

He had definitely not come unprepared, though his resources that he brought with him had long began to wane. Among these things were various relics, recovered from the paths of gods. He had rituals, the capability of minor curses. A learned man, a man who had committed much of his life learning what Galbar had to offer. He tapped upon the pure energy of the gods, though only in the smallest amount.

To go any further then he had, to go beyond the most minor of rituals, would utterly destroy his mind and body. This much he knew, and he dared not ruin his own plans on such a risky gamble. He was an opulent and imperial man, but he was not an idiot, nor a person who lived on the fast lane. He preferred a more balanced approach to his discoveries, edging the line between the safety of a dark age and the dangers of the plateau of knowledge.

Among the rest of his preparations, he had brought with him a tribe of sturdy men, to excavate the ground he had divined through rituals to hold the secrets of the gods. It had taken him years, and he'd killed and he'd taken advantage of many to get this far. They had, finally, located the ground that he expected to hold the secret he had so long been seeking.

He had always been an extravagant man. Powerful, and in high fortunes. But he tired of conventional extravagance and power. Tales suggested that somewhere within the ancient ever changing plains, laid the gateway to some fabulous and unknowable power. He moved his tribe ever onwards, focused with a singular goal in mind.

Those who starved were left behind. There was no sympathy in his goals. He pushed his tribe to the limit, creating sturdy shovels and putting them to work as he searched the dark with relic and ritual to locate the antadeluvian stones that lurked below. Many thoughts of rebellion stirred among his impromptu workmen, but they were quickly crushed, with force, had it been necessary.

Multiple times it had been necessary.

They had dug a deep pit, mounds of the plain piling up around the hole. His fortunes began to fade, his power waning. This only hastened his ultimate goal of finding the secrets that laid below the damnable rocks of the plains. He had, during his time with the rituals, acquired the smallest portion of some divine power. This was a requirement for the last stages of the excavation.

When his fortunes failed him, he relied on what curses and hexes he could dole out. This was a short solution, but it was long enough for his goals. Eventually, in the deepest parts of the hole, they unearthed it. A cave, of a massive diameter. The torches they brought failed to light up its full extent. This was their undoing.

Ruin had come to his tribe. That ancient cave held horrors no man should have ever seen, and one by one his workmen were slaughtered. What slaughtered them exactly was indescribable, and there was only one thing for certain. They were in a land of death and madness.

It was soon him alone, laughing and wailing as he ran through the cavern. His mind had long been lost. He had not been shredded by claws, nay, he had been shredded in the mind, by the claws that had taken the lives of his abused and battered tribemembers. His sanity that had lead him in a single, determined route, had been lost. But yet, the persistence remained. He still had his goal, even if he could barely comprehend.

His every step unsettled the ancient earth. He fled through those dark stones of antiquity, the land of festering abominations. He was being chased. HE WAS BEING CHASED. Paranoia filled his mind. The horrors that had harassed him were following, predator playing with its prey. He was sure of it. It was the truth, it had to be.

He was pushing his body to the limit. He did not slow his sprint, despite the protests of his lungs and legs. His laughter and sobbing echoed throughout the realm of ancient evils and secrets. Something that had best been left buried. He did not care. He could not care. He did not have the mind to care anymore.

It was then he came across his goal, the source of the power. A chalice, an ornate, yet simple cup. He came to a halt to the altar that held it, and he looked upon it. He gazed into its inside, taking in the contents.

He nearly tore out his eyes. What met him was maddening. It could not have been. He could not comprehend it. It was the essence he had been searching so long for. He babbled, he had finally found his goal. His rituals had come through. And he alone was left to reap the reward. His tribe had done their job, but he felt no loyalty to them. Their corpses were of no matter to him anymore.

With a single swipe, the cup was picked up. In another shaky motion, the essence within was downed. It seemed endless. Was the cup larger than he remembered? It just kept coming. Everything was getting darker. He felt as though he was being torn apart. His body couldn't handle the power he had sought. But yet he continued. The darkness enroached upon him, and yet he continued his chug of the maddening essence.

The abominations that lurked in the cave closed in on him. Claws grabbed at his legs. No matter. He had his goal, it would save him. Surely.

It had to.

The cup was nearly knocked from his hand when it happened. A burst of divine power escaped his body, blowing the horrific creatures that sought to feast upon him away. They burnt to ash before the blast, the ground itself rumbling as his body let go of what it struggled to hold on to.

It was then that he lost conciousness, the last thing he saw was the ground rapidly coming towards him. His body naturally curled itself up, cocooning itself in the pure power he had embibed. It alone could not handle the power, but in time, it would become accustomed to what he had brought upon himself. It was a matter of time, time he had to spare. Time he could not perceive.

The blast itself acted as a beacon, burning away the concealing shadows that had hidden the divine essence within. The divine power echoed, emanating across Galbar. There was no mistaking it, no incapability of finding its source. It was a massive roar in a land that was comparably quiet. A new demigod had been born, his reward for the utter ruthlessness that had been displayed.

In time. In time he would emerge from his cocoon of divine emenations. But for now, he rested. And he grew. Impressionable and young. A blank slate, yet tainted with the madness that he had brought upon himself. A madness that would push him ever onwards in the path of secret evils and abominations that laid dormant within the universe.

For now, he was but a cocoon, a breachable and impressionable cocoon that could be influenced by the gods he had so unwittingly alerted to his presence, the exact location from whence he came. A light burning away any doubt of his dedication and subsequent reward.

Victory, a hollow and ridiculous notion. He had his power, but he would never be the same again. He had torn himself apart, and what would come out would inevitably be mad, no longer the determined and intelligent man that went in. Though he would no longer be as measured as he was before, however, madness had its perks.

The full extent of the plateau of knowledge would be open to him. He would discover things that drive men and gods alike mad, and he would be utterly unaffected. For one that comes predisposed as mad cannot be inflicted by further madness. Only time will tell if he can control his madness, however.

Perhaps one day he will be sane again. Perhaps one day he will be capable of recovering from what the cyclopean stones of the caves did to his psyche. But for now, ruin has come to him. Another argument is that he will never regain his sanity, at least not permanently. He was born from it -- made from it -- and should he escape, he may be returned to it in time. In Time.

A potential cycle that could go on until the stars align and the universe is made anew.

But as the little demigodling had rightly realised, only Time would tell. For Time had foretold, and even now it told, and it would yet tell. The Lord of Time slipped through the endless spaces and tore the Fabric of Existence, and he manifested himself before the cocoon and surveyed with cool, unfeeling eyes the grimness of what was here.
It truly was quite amazing what these mortals did in pursuit of the forbidden. There were some things it was better not to know about, some things which mortals and immortals alike did best to avoid. But there were some mortals and immortals who did not understand. Too proud...too greedy...too selfish and self-centred. Many things. But what they all shared was a canny inability to see the greater whole - they pursued what their baser instincts, or what they percieved to be their higher reason and inclination, told them to. It was as he had Seen.

He had, as he vividly remembered, been in the company of some of the beings he had brought back from the gates of death and delivered from Galbar to Chronos. He had taken it upon himself to teach them things which even the Bard had not (indeed, could not). They were creatures with a future and purpose, after all, and they had to be prepared. It was as he was in their company that the vision had struck him with suddenness, and he Saw with an immense clarity the way the path led. Wordlessly he had left the creatures and risen far up above the small island-planet into the greater spaces of Chronos. And as he rose, the very heavens began to crack and open, and they groaned and thundered, and they flashed and bared their violent blazes. And the Gap opened up where once the Chronos spaces: infinite, harrowing, staggering in its scope.

Yet though the heavens had become a portal, nothing left Chronos and entered the Gap, and nothing left the Gap and entered Chronos. Even the horrific monstrosities which dwelt therein, upon sensing the sudden opening, found that they hit an invisible barrier when they attempted to slip in. Chronos was Vowzra's domain, and the very Fabric of this place obeyed his every command. Even if Amul'Sharar himself were to manifest himself here, he would have no power that the Lord of Chronos denied him it. That was the way of Chronos, and Vowzra knew that Illunabar's Raka was not much different, though she had imbued it with characteristics that caused parts of it to be in constant rebellion against her power. No good could come of such foolishness, he knew.

But as it were, Vowzra opened the Chronos heavens up into a doorway leading to the Gap. And in this way he would be able to counter any advances the Jvanic Entity planned on making here. And in this way he could do yet another thing. For there was a certain heavenly body which he had, in bygone days, cast into the terrible darkness of the Gap, and it was Time for him to reclaim it.
And like a fisherman, he cast his line. But unlike a fisherman, he directed his line and purposefully hooked the diabolically altered Perfectus before reeling it in. And just as it had left the Universe and entered the Gap before, it now left the Gap and emerged into Chronos. And it hung in the Chronos heavens while Vowzra surveyed it. Strange creatures occupied it, the very earth had weird properties, and Vowzta knew that Toun would be far from happy with the moon Vulamera had gifted to him so long ago. But as it were, Vowzra was not truly all that bothered.

He collected many things from the moon's surface - rocks, shells, whole trees, precious stones...chalices, coins, swords. Yes, strange things indeed occurred in the Gap, and Vowzra knew that he would have to be ever the more cautious as he proceeded with his battle against Jvan if the battlefield became the Gap. But the Jvanic Entity would also have to proceed with caution, for the Gap was far from being its monopoly, just as it was far from being his monopoly or anyone else's.

And he had travelled far and wide, from Galbar to Arcon and hundreds of millions of other planets and moons, and he had placed in the earth or in the skies, or upon the mountains or within the trees, the Eldritch Relics of Perfectus. And this here was amongst the first beings to find one such relic, and there had been within it the soul of a weakened, maddened demigod. Strange things indeed abound within the Gap. Vowzra knew that there was not much he could give this demigodling which it would truly appreciate - nothing other than this knowledge. And so he cast an aura around the cocoon, and he imbued within the mind of the sleeping demigodling the knowledge of its origins, and the fact that Time and Fate had long ago dictated that it would one day come to be, and they had dictated when and how, and they had actively worked towards its making. And as Fate had dictated, so had it been.

With that, Vowzra left through the tear he had created, and it closed up behind him. And it was as though he had not been.

Moon: 334
Orif sat upon the rock as the people of the tribe danced around him and brought him their gifts and tribute. His eyes remained cold as he surveyed each of the tribals who came before him. Some were placing fur or shiny rocks or well-made spears before him. Some even gave of their children as tribute, that they may go to the great encampment where the fabled Prophet-Patriarch dwelled, and that they may be initiated as frinjis there and be made life-mates for his progeny.

Before the coming of Great-Orif, as they had dubbed him, they had been astray, and they now knew that they had been so. Only those blessed by the Moon-Mother herself could march into the encampment, as Orif had done on that fateful day nearly eight moons ago, declaring the land and its people as belonging to the Moon-Mother and he whom she had blessed with prophethood. They had at first resisted, but those who took up arms were put down without mercy. And then they had refused to pledge obedience to the Patriarch, and the curses of the Moon-Mother had descended on them for weeks, and the raids of Great-Orif prevented them from so much as setting foot out of the encampment. And little by little they had ventured out and pledged obedience. And though they had done so out of desperation in those early days, the blooming of the Moon-Mother's blessing and the shrivelling of her curse had further strengthened their faith. And those who visited the great encampment and saw the Prophet-Patriarch had returned with great tales of his mercy and justice, how his face shone bright with the holy light of the Moon-Mother herself (how some had snuck a look at him in his tent when he was sleeping once, and how his face had been as a moon in the darkness within!)

Indeed, they had been in a great darkness and strife before the rising of the Patriarch's moon above them. Where had they been before they had bathed in his light and known the pleasure of that most mighty and matchless Moon-Mother, that most beloved Elysium. Indeed, his coming had been a mercy upon them, and her mercy in sending him was incomprehensible.

'Tell him who is all of all of me: Who is for me if he is not for me?' an oddly dressed woman suddenly screamed, 'I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart, and I asked him, "Who are you?" and he said, "I am you!"' she dropped a pile of sticks before Orif and began shaking her head from side to side and smacking the top of her head with both hands, 'have mercy on me! When - oh when! - will these my eyes, with absence anguished, see before them what the heart has for long seen?' Orif cocked his head and considered the woman for a few seconds.
'M-my great Chief, she is mad, p-please do not mind her,' Orif looked to the man who had spoken with a grave silence.

'I swear! I swear I have never gone to sip of the pond, except that I have seen a reflection of You in its waters!' she was now shouting at the skies. Orif looked up, and even though it was yet day, he could see the moon clearly in the sky. A thoughtfulness entered his eyes and he did not hear whatever else the man was now gibbering.

'Bring me these sticks that she has brought,' he suddenly commanded. There were a few moments of wary silence, as though those who had heard were unsure if they had heard right. When it became clear that none of the tribals were going to carry out the command, one of the Orifids rushed to do as his Warrior-Chief had ordered. Orif took one of the thin twigs, about as thick as an adult's pinkie and the length of a handspan. It had a rather odd smell, though it was not a bad odd. The other twigs were all of the same kind, with the same smell. Their lengths were more or less equal and their thicknesses also. It was quite clear that the woman had not merely collected these twigs randomly, there was some kind of purpose to them, though Orif could not guess what. He looked at the woman, who was now staring intently at him.

'What are these, woman?' he asked. She laughed and walked towards him waving her hand about in the air as though he had asked a question wherein were the answers to many a great mystery.
'They are twigs!' she announced once she was next to him upon the rock, 'tooth-twigs! From the Tooth-Tree. And its leaves are good too! I have tried them in illness and in health. And its flowers! Its flowers! You must try them, and its berries too! This thing, this thing has in it cures for all things!' she paused for a while and looked to the side as though listening to something, 'ah, yes. Except death.'

Orif raised the twig to his face and examined it again. Sure enough, it smelled like it had much blessing and good to it, but in the end it was nothing more than a twig. How did one get benefit from it? Did you just...eat it?

'How do you get its benefits? Do you just hold it? Do you eat it?'
'Eat it?' the woman scoffed, 'of course not! You just rub it on your teeth. That's why it is a tooth-twig!' Orif brought the end of the twig up to his teeth and rubbed it with it.

'No! Not like that!' she grabbed the twig and put it into her mouth, scraping the bark off the top before chewing on it. After a while, she showed it to him again and to his amazement its head now had bristles. He took it from her and began chewing on the bristles as she had done.

'What are you doing you silly boy. Stop chewing on it! Rub, rub your teeth with it!' she grabbed it from him once more and and began scraping it gently, up and down, against her teeth. With the example given, she gave it back to him.

'Ah, I see. And why against the teeth in particular? Do its blessings go in through the teeth?' he asked as he did as she had shown. The woman looked rather confused for a few seconds, she looked to the side before looking back at him.

'Well, no. That's just how you make your teeth whiter. That's how you clean your teeth,' at her words he paused and removed the tooth-twig from his mouth. So this thing was simply...for cleaning teeth?

'But...what about all its blessings that you were talking about?' he asked. She laughed and nodded in understanding.

'Oh, feisty one you are! Time, little one! Time is all that stands between you and the secrets of the Tooth-Tree,' and with that she scrambled off the rock and ran off. Orif stared after her for a while, and once she had disappeared, he looked down at the head of his tooth-twig. A small smile spread across his face and he put it back into his mouth and scraped at his teeth with it.

'Do not mind Sereka, Great-Orif. She is but a madwoman. Her wits have been gone many moons, and we have found no cure for her, though the Moon-Mother knows we have tried,' the man was once more gibbering away. Orif sucked his teeth in annoyance and stood up suddenly. Gripping the tooth-twig, he pointed it at the man and commanded him be silent.

'Be quiet, damn you! Your gibbering is like the incessant buzzing of a Buzz-Fly - irritating and useless! If you but had ears to listen and a mind that you may comprehend, you may have realised that you do nothing but uselessly buzz. And you may have realised, also, that Sereka is like a bursting cloud above a land that has not known rain. She gives of herself endlessly, water pure and pleasant and cool, and with it brings life to a land that has known naught but death. She rains upon you wisdom, but your earth is poor and cannot hold her waters, her wisdoms pass through you like the arrow passes through air, leaving no mark!' his voice had steadily risen as he spoke, and he waved the tooth-twig ever more violently as his voice rose, 'by the Moon-Mother! There is yet within you people something of the Darkness-Before. What can be said of your faith when the most faithful amongst you are branded mad? Begone from my sight! I do not wish to see you, and I shan't take your useless tribute to the Patriarch, for it would bring shame on you and me!' and with those final words, he picked up the few twigs that Sereka had brought with her and leapt off the rock. The few Orifids who had accompanied him turned and followed their leader as he made his way out of the small encampment.

A faint golden light, high above the clouds, could be seen streaking across the Galbarian night sky. Yang'Ze flew with such speed that he parted the clouds, leaving a long narrow sky path behind him.

He looked at the ground below him as he flew. Teknall had pointed him towards the Hain village that they would use as a temporary headquarters during their assault on Vestec's little horde, but he had not given him the exact position of the village so he had to rely on himself to find it.

Nevertheless, after a couple of hours of searching, his eyes indeed fell upon a small forested area that surrounded a small village. From the crude architecture and the small pack of stone golems, Urtelem as Teknall had previously called them, Yang'Ze deduced that it was a Hain village.

He lowered his speed and slowly descended. After finding a suitable location, not too close to the village but not too far away from it as well, Yang'Ze manipulated his staff, instantly shrinking its size down to the size of a grain, collecting it before letting his body free-fall until he landed on a small hill.

He had chosen that specific location because of its superior birds-eye view of the area surrounding the village. "Ugh, I do hope they will be quick to come here..." he thought as he sat down on the small hill's peak.

There he waited, only for a few handwidths of the moon, before a figure of wood and stone approached from the base of the hill. It procced up slowly, giving the deception of it being a slow and lumbering figure. Once at the top, it stopped near Yang'Ze, "Greetings, I am Custos, avatar of Kyre."

Slowly opening his eyes, Ull'Yang's Avatar stood up and shifted his body to face the new arrival. "Many greetings to you as well. I am Yang'Ze, avatar of Ull'Yang," Yang'Ze replied while bowing his head.

"Teknall has already filled me in on the details of our little 'operation'. I would certainly like to have your opinion on how you think we should go about doing this..." Yang'Ze told Custos, getting straight to the point.

Custos stood still, as though thinking or receiving a message, "Why does Ull'Yang not speak through you? Kyre is currently training Teknall's disciple, but will speak through me if Ull'Yang wishes."

Yang'Ze was momentarily taken aback by Custos's response. "You are speaking to Ull'Yang, or a quarter of my consciousness for that matter. Right now, I am in the process of creating my own separate demiplane," Yang'Ze said and looked upwards to the sky.

"Ah, not even I can connect with my main body right now. I have erected a barrier, shielding the miniature plane from any outside interference. You'd have to wait until my main body steps outside the plane if you desire to talk to it."

Yang'Ze looked back towards Custos. "I don't really mind whoever talks. It's of no importance really. I, however, would really like to know if you have some sort of strategy to combat Vestec's avatar. I was told we have very little knowledge about his abilities..." Yang'Ze said.

"Then Kyre will watch and listen through me," A pause again before continuing, "It is true that we know next to nothing about his abilities, and while full discussion of a strategy is best to be put off until Teknall arrives, we can decide a base to work off of."

Though it wasn't necessary for an avatar, at least for him, Custos sat down with crossed legs before speaking again, "No matter what, we must make sure to have the battle happen in an unpopulated area, likely further east, so that we minimize the chance of innocents being killed as collateral. What say you?"

"Mortals will die anyway," Yang'Ze said after listening to Custos's words. He sat down beside him and continued. [color=00bfff]"Even without Violence to guide them, the horde will clash with the Hain warriors that are defending the village, this is inevitable."

"The only way I can think of that would minimize the mortal death count of this battle would be for us to simply get rid of Violence as soon as possible. That way we can then return and influence the battle in favor of the Hain since we have three avatars on our side..."

"Yes, mortals will die, but we don't need both the horde and the village we are helping to be destroyed in the fight, so we will need to get Violence away from here." Custos shifted some, before continuing, "The battle of the village will not happen until a few days from now, and it would be best not to interfere with our avatars unless it is needed, or until it seems ok to do so."

Yang'Ze listened to Custos as he thought about how they would proceed with the confrontation. One thing was for sure, though, until Teknall's avatar met with them and until they actually confronted Violence, planning things out would remain to just that, plans. "Nothing is set to stone..." Yang'Ze muttered and sighed.

---

It wasn't until dawn broke that the final member of the trio arrived. A black rift opened near them and out stepped Teknall, and behind him loomed Goliath, its dark metal armor glinting in the sunrise.

Teknall took a deep breath in through his nose. "Ah, cool, fresh air. Good morning, Yang'Ze, Kyre," Teknall greeted. "Your new avatar fits you quite well, Kyre. This here is Goliath," he patted a hand against the metal chestplate of Goliath, "I'll leave you to preparing for battle."

And with that, Teknall left, walking off into the trees and disappearing from sight.

"Although really, I'm still here," resonated Teknall's voice. However, it did not come from Teknall, but from Goliath. "So, what's the plan so far?" His voice, as spoken through Goliath, was deeper and metallic, and had a very faint echo to it.

Custos stilled for a moment, its eyes dull for a split second before glowing brighter than before. Then Kyre spoke, a deep yet clear voice through the avatar, "Thank you for the compliment, but as you have shown, straight to the plans. Mostly, we have waited for you to arrive, but one thing we have agreed on, I think, is that we must force this fight away from this place to minimize the loss of mortal lives."

Yang'Ze nodded, greeting Teknall, before standing up. He looked at Goliath, paced around the metallic avatar before exclaiming, "Heh, seems like a sturdy avatar you have here. Certainly fits your whole theme, haha."

"Of course, isolating Violence will give us another advantage, apart from our numerical superiority. I had also previously suggested we create some kind of trap. I doubt Violence would come out if he knew he would go against three other avatars. Could we lure him with something?" Yang'Ze asked both of them.

"I think the mere prospect of a fight would be enough to lure Violence," Teknall said. "If one of us were to challenge him to battle, that should goad him to leave the camp."

"Then I would be the best for that role, as Violence, and Vestec, would be expecting it. And if there was trouble in getting him to come, perhaps if he wished to fight there, we could play a card. Vestec would not wish the entertainment of the battle for the village to be ruined in the process." Custos stood, "But how shall we make sure he stays where we want him when we get him away?"

"Short of some sort of measure to seal him away in some kind of arena, we will have to rely on distance from where we don't want him to be, and the relentlessness of our assault so that he would not have a chance to flee," Teknall said. "The key point is that we need to keep him away from the village, and other villages if possible."

"Mhm, yes. Custos should be the one to bait Violence. Now, I think it's safe for us to assume that Vestec would be prepared to go against two avatars. I don't think he would guess that you'd come to me for extra help... So we should use that to our advantage," Yang'Ze said.

"When it's time for the ambush, we could have Goliath over here attack first, so as to make Violence concentrate on the two of you and lower his guard to any other potential threats. Then I'll come in from behind for a pincer attack. I don't think he would be able to escape the simultaneous attack of three avatars..."

"To the east is what remains of a village, here," Kyre transferred the memory of where it was, one of the many that he had visited to collect the ashes from, "There is not but wildlife there, and there is nothing left for the battle to desecrate. Can we agree on this?"

"Agreed. This is perhaps the best plan we can devise with so little information," Teknall replied.

Yang'Ze simply nodded his confirmation after receiving the memory transfer from Custos.

"Then it is settled..." Kyre's voice takes on a somber tone, "Violence and this horde have taken the lives of many Hain, and destroyed too many futures. I will be glad to see this over..."

"Now, let us begin..."

Rtron's Bonus Might to y'all, be grateful and all that: For Another Turn

Belru surveyed the great expanse of land which rolled before her and Vowzra's giant avatar. They appeared to be slowly making their away across the Great Steppe. She did not know where it was going or why it was carrying her along with it, but she thought it was best not to argue or resist - the creature had saved her from that diabolical boy after all.

As suddenly as the great being had started moving, it stopped. Belru looked around curiously but saw nothing that had warranted the sudden stop, but it seemed that the avatar had its reasons, for it suddenly spoke.
'Is that you, Lady of the Spirits? What is it that you do here? Have you abandoned your friend?'

"Damn!" A female voice echoed through the Steppe, but when one inspected their surroundings closely, they'd be able to see that besides three trees in the distance, the only vegetation that wasn't grass was a quivering bush near the gigantic Avatar's feet.

The bush all but exploded and a shower of leaves fell on the two beings. After the leaves settled down, Astarte stood up from where the bush had been and straightened her dress.

"How did you know I was there? And why do you feel so different than at the beginning, Belruarc? And where are you guys going and why is Vowzra's avatar so huge? He's far too big, bigger than Big, even."

Belru looked down and was rather shocked to find that Astarte had suddenly manifested herself at the avatars feet and was spewing a near-endless flow of questions.
'Uh...well,' she scratched her head, 'it's a bit of a long story,' she laughed.
'You hide well, Lady of Spirits, but 'tis difficut to miss you when I near enough squashed you just now,' the avatar spoke with a fair degree of good humour. Indeed, unlike Vowzra himself, this creature seemed quite capable of expressing and feeling emoitions.
'I actually don't know where we're going,' Belru answered another of Astarte's questions, 'this guy just picked me up and has been walking non-stop for Fate knows how long,' she looked down accusingly at the head of Vowzra's avatar, who seemed to quite visibly whittle under her gaze.
'But we are headed somewhere for a reason of grave importance! Why, I am rather shocked to find that you, Lady of the Spirits, have not outfitted your own forces. Has your Chaotic friend not requested your aid? Or has he done something to so anger you that you are not giving him aid?'

"Forces? Why would I need such a thing, what happened? Vestec's a bit obsessed with Chaos, but he and I are on pretty good terms." Astarte crossed her arms and slowly flew up to be at eye level with the Avatar.
'The Overlord has informed me of a great divine clash which has taken place. The Chaotic One has unleashed his hordes upon the world, and the other Divines have united against him. Alone, he fights the friends and enemies of the Jvanic Entity. The Overlord is grieved that many of Jvan's foes have sided against him, but he believes they will one day see the light. The Chaotic One may be a terrible being in some ways, but far more terrible is the Diabolical Flesh. And so I march forward to aid the Chaotic One in the hopes that we shall rally the forces which oppose the Jvanic Flesh and rid the world of her evils once and for all. Will you not come with me that we may aid your Chaotic Friend?'

"Oh," Astarte bit her lip and looked around hesitantly, "sure. I'm not going to destroy Jvan, though." Astarte closed her eyes for a moment, and then flew back. As she flew back, a black silhouette was left levitating in place. The silhouette quivered and twitched and seemed to fade in and out of existence at the lightest breeze, but it was soon enough that it started materializing.

Patches of black gave way to patches of brown silk, fair skin and dark brown hair and eyes. For a minute, Astarte's avatar levitated in place.

Then she opened her eyes.

"That's my avatar, she'll help you protect Vess," Lavender Astarte said, motioning toward Brown Astarte. Brown Astarte looked at her hands and felt the magical forces running through her body. it wasn't long until Brown felw closer to Vowzra's Avatar and zapped him right on the cheek.

"Heh-eh!" She chuckled and snorted, and then she gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. "I apologize for that."

"So you see, she's kind of different than me. In what ways is she different, you may ask. And to that, I say," Lavender crossed her arms again and looked absolutely serious, "I HAVE NO IDEA!"

And then Astarte was nowhere to be seen, leaving a brunette, brown-dress wearing Avatar behind.

The Vicegerent of the Vicegerent chuckled slightly, while Belru smiled rather awkwardly atop his head. She had not had a chance to meet her siblings and, she now realised, perhaps that was for the best. Were they all as weird as Vowzra? By Fate, that would be disasterous!
'I seem to remember another dress, though what brings it to my mind I cannot say!' the Vicegerent was saying as he began walking again, 'the Overlord is oddly familiar with you, Lady of Spirits, and with your Chaotic Friend too. But for all his attempts to work it out, he just doesn't know why. He won't admit it to you or him, of course, being such a stoic and all, but I know,' and he winked at her and gave off a rather merry guffaw.
'Mind you though, the Lady of the Spirits seems to have gotten the idea that we want to destroy the Jvanic Entity. Nothin could be further from the truth, I say. We only wish to cure her of her serious malady. She is severly ill, do you not think? I have been told by some very reliable sources that simply being in her presence causes one to sudder with that same illness, and the air is rancid with the putrid cancers and diseases which wrack her. It will not do, I tell you! She must be cured,' and with that, the turtle took another step and found itself walking on air, and with another it flew ever more swiftly through it.
'Or do you not think so, Lady of the Spirits Brown?'

"Just Brown is fine," Brown sighed and looked around. Even after the explanaition and the knowledge Astarte had left in her when she was created, she still had no idea where this battle would take place, "and that certainly is an interesting point of view."

With that said, Brown flew to the Vicegerent's left shoulder and sat down.

Vestec Level 4 God of Chaos

Might: 8

Freepoint: 3

Vestec dropped off the Tree-Minds and the Pack-Minds in the frozen northern wastes. Some of them were none the worse for wear. Others had been changed, subtly, to be more friendly and receptive to any servants of Vestec. Still others had been changed entirely to the savage Pack-Minds, already beginning their hunt for the bears of the wastes. The Mad God surveyed the area, giggling slightly, before heading off into the bowels of the world.

It had been a long time he'd seen Mammon. Vestec's many colors illuminated the dark halls as he walked towards the throne room of the forgotten God. "Mammon. It's been a long time." He mused, quietly walking towards the shell of the God. "You're a ruin now. What happened?" The shell of Divine Essence in front of him flickered briefly. Images entered Vestec's mind, seeming to explain the situation he's in. "Ah. Spent to much of your essence upon your creatures, hmm? Now you don't have enough energy to keep yourself alive. Your legacy is worms. Pitiful." Mammon flashed and the room filled with the feeling of irritation and weary acknowledgement.

He strode closer to the forgotten God. "I can help your legacy be even more than this. You can live through the lives of hundreds of souls. " Vestec lifted a hand, tearing a hole in the fabric of space. The Realm of Madness glared through, souls howling, things shifting and coloring. "These spirits need something to guide them. To give them purpose. You can do that Mammon. You can mark your legacy upon the world." The God of Chaos held out his hand. "Let me guide you, Mammon. Let me guide you into the new world." Questioning feelings filled the air, hope interlaced betweent hem.

Mammon reached out and took Vestec's hand. THe God of Chaos guided the dying God to the Realm of Madness, and Mammon's essence flooded the realm, fusing with the spirits and giving them new lives and bodies. The area changed and began to become more firm, more solid, less likely to fall apart.

Demons began to enter the realm of Madness, formed from the binding of Mammon's essence and the spirits of the Realm of Madness.

Vestec sealed up the tear in reality, and looked up in surprise. Some new divine essence had entered the world. "Oooh. I wonder who this is?"

In an instant he was there, staring at where the cocoon had been. "This is interesting!" He looked around, tsking in annoyance. "How rude. Stealing my things, Amartia. Simply rude." He opened another tear in the universe. "Lets see how you react too-" There was a thunderclap as something moved impossibly fast and crashed into Vestec. A reaper's Scythe and claws lashed out and Divine blood splattered over the ground. Something between a shriek and a roar echoed throughout the world as Vestec and Reathos flew into the Realm of Madness.

The Raka was a dimension with very few universal rules, chaos goes down, law goes up, dreams are born in chaos. However, just because a rule is simple, it does not mean it should be broken. Ilunabar had prepared a dream of logic to nest a change eater, where even the Jvanic was somewhat the law, the problem, however, is that this didn't change the chaotic nature of Chroma. And slowly, the dream sank from the heights of the Arpeggio, going directly against the flow of dreams, and clashing with a few other unlucky dreams on the way.

When Ilunabar went back to said dream, she expected it to have completely gone off rails, but overall, the little town of Iridia seemed to be the same, in the odd mix of uncanny and peaceful. Somehow all the battles that had taken place between Chroma and "invaders" were somehow hidden.

"How odd, it's as if this whole dream is conspiring in the favor of her delusion, even when it's not something I scripted."

Somewhere near, another incursion of a foreigner dream had taken place, however after Chroma's response to it, most of the beings had already been turned into bits and pieces on the ground or mush on the walls. The one left was running away as fast as he could, but alas...

"Do you think you can escape from Justice? I will have to teach you a lesson." Chroma extended her hands towards the enemy. "Final Beam." Suddenly what looked like very sharp finger bones were launched out of her hand, piercing the dream creature's body.

"Uh, what was that?" asked Ilunabar "It surely wasn't a beam."

"It was my machine gun... Wait" Chroma jumped away from her position and turned around to see the goddess. "Wow. What an ugly creature."

"Ugly?" What an odd behavior. Ilunabar had been very experimental with this little project, but there should certainly be a limit to such delusions, she was the very concept of aesthetic, how could...

"Here I go." Chroma bounced against a wall and tried to hit a punch against Ilunabar, for her surprise, though, the goddess didn't even move an inch away

"Please stop." was all Ilunabar said.

"Oh, I get this." She eased from her aggressive stance "This must be about learning to not judge a book by the cover. You might be all odd and not see-through, but you must be a nice person inside." And of course, by learning to accept the differences, she would be rewarded with a power up.

"Huh?" The change-eater, if she could still be called that after all the time in the Raka, was moving a bit too fast for her to fully understand.

"Don't worry though. We can be friends." As the heroine finished her phrase, the sound of approaching persons could be heard from outside the warehouse. "Ah, the cops, they must be here to send the villains to prison, quick let's leave before we are seen."

"To prison?" Ilunabar looked at the mutilated corpses around her, surely nothing that could be arrested. "Just come with me." giving up on understanding what transpired in this fever dream, Ilunabar just decided to take Chroma and teleport away, not only away from the dream but out of Raka.

"What?" Chroma looked around to see she was now in some sort of forest just like the ones from her home, but the whole atmosphere was different, oddly blue and full of sprinkles. "Where am I".

With the dream clear of mortal presence, it was far easier for Ilunabar to understand what transpired there while she was away, and while most of the changes were hard to decipher, the overall idea was easier to understand.

"Listen, this is, uh, The Clashing World."

"The Clashing World?"

"See, you did notice that the number of attacks against your hometown was increasing right?"

"Yes..."

"That happened because your universe was literally being destroyed."

"What?"

"Yes, it's a thing, that is surely happening. But you can change it, by, uh, doing stuff, in this world, in specific."

"Ah?"

"See, if you do your heroic acts here. It will heal your world. Until then, you can't return. Sorry."

"Oh, that is bad." The odd woman's delivery was a bit lackluster, and Chroma was genuinely worried about the odd change of scenario and overall plot arc, usually comics only did that when they were selling poorly. No, she should not be pessimistic, that just meant she needed to act twice as cool "But I can get over it. I will go wherever people need me, that is what a hero do."

"Good for you." Ilunabar was suddenly distracted, there was definitely something going amiss going on, but only now she had noticed it. On the other side, leaving this already messy project alone would be a mistake, she would need to call in a Diva or something. "There is an emergency, I will call in a friend. Please don't do anything regrettable."

"Fine. I will just wait." Chroma sat on the ground "No worry." All she hoped for is that the friend would bring her the power up.

---

"This is a perversion of everything you and my sisters have been doing" thundered Piena. "We should just turn the whole city back in flatland" now she was whispering.

"Oh please, don't say such foolish, destructive things." Ilunabar sighed "That is not how we must act. The easy, struggle-less way is not only full of traps but is ultimately the path to lethargy. We could send soldiers, we could make people disgusted at the town, or mad, we could even fill the place with illusions. But it would be useless, you can't physically kill a concept."

The rise of Sin didn't please the Muse at all. The first sign of such behavior had been Lifprasil, but with the emperor of emotions she had the time to act, to make sure she knew his path, and to tell him to stay away from depraved acts against the freedom of mortal's ambition. But under the rug another spawn of Vestec came in, claiming things it should not claim, in some odd of possessiveness that was ironically ingrained in the core of most chaos spawns.

"So you propose we just stand idle to this debauchery? To let the despot leech the mind of the everyman? To let him usurp the fruits of the ambitious minds we have been nurturing?"

"Huh, I don't remember such outrage when Lifprasil was the topic" Ilunabar tilted her head. She still remembered very well how her Divas flocked to the other emperor, and while she had yet to tell Meimu or Notte about Amartía, it was curious to see Piena's disgust.

"You misjudge me. It's different. The way Sin works is different. Look at Susa or Alure, for example, Amartía would have just made puppets out of them by using their noble ambition for new horizons and beauty."

Ilunabar narrowed her eyes, the girl was quite away from the truth, but close enough to understand the problem. "Sure. If those are your reasons. Either way, we can't be counterproductive, I do not want to fight Amartía with swords. We need to do two things. Promote our culture, and counter his culture."

Piena didn't buy those words. "You think only making counter-culture is enough?"

"Oh no, my little bird, you are missing my point. See, I will go beyond creating mere barriers for the notion of sin, I will promote it. If one can eat sin, one can choke on it."

---

Notte regretted not having accepted to go look after Teknall's daughter back when she had a chance. Surely taking care of demi-gods would be easier than of a Jvanic being.

"So, how is it going?" asked Chroma, still sitting on the ground, like she had done for the last few hours.

"Uh... It is fine..." Notte answered, looking away, trying to notice if Ilunabar was moving back or anything.

"That is good to hear."

...

...

"Uh..." Notte looked at the heroine, she could see how Ilunabar had tried to create a relatable heroine and all, but something had gone very amiss.

"Yes?" Chroma tilted her head.

"Nothing."

...

...

"Are you..."

"Huh?"

"Are you hungry? What do you eat?"

"Oh! I don't know what you dry, opaque people eat normally. But I eat like, fruit, meat, cereals, sweets, bread, veggies, cheese, ..."

"Ok, I got it." That was very odd for a change-eater. But if she said so...

"One of those would be good right now. It has been a while since I ate."

"Fine." She quickly moved to a nearby tree and grabbed some odd fruits typical of Julia Island. "Are these enough?"

"Wow. You are fast. Thanks for the meal." however, as soon as she nibbles the fruit, she feels unwell and spits it out "Yuck, this tastes terrible."

"Seriously? Try the others."

But no matter how many different fruits she ate, they all tasted terrible.

"I knew it." Of course, change eaters didn't eat this kind of thing. She probably ate elemental force back in the dream, except it was probably disguised or something.

"Here, try this" Notte gave the girl a jar with a very small water elemental trapped inside.

"Water? Thanks. It should take the bad taste away... Blargh. What is this? Why is it moving."

"Che. This is very odd."

"I expected a power up, not to be poisoned up!" complained Chroma "Ugh. I miss Iridia. This Clashing World thing is not good at all."

It was a bit hard to understand when a being like her was sad, but Notte surely understood she was right now. "Sorry. It was not my intention. I just don't know what to do." she approached the heroine and touched her shoulder.

"Hey, you smell kinda nice."

In a blink, Notte had moved from the girl's side to the opposite side of the grove.

"Fermala." Oh, how she envied Meimu, probably having all sorts of fun with Teknall and the girls.

"What? You looked scared. Is there something nearby?" in reaction to the perceived danger, Chroma placed a hand near one of her ribs, creating some sort of long bone spear out of it. "Don't worry. If there is a monster, I can just blast it away."

"Ah... haha... Nah." with a smile, Notte left the island as quick as she possibly could. She had never feared a Jvanic being before, not even the lady herself, but none of those ever said she smelled nice. "Ack, is this the kind of thing mortals have to deal with every day?"

---

Spending an afternoon with the Quara was always a relaxing experience. In the simple tents among the rocks and mountains of eastern Shalanoir, the ever unfortunate descendants of the Furls had created a small society. It was an elegant community, which thanks to the surplus of food had the time to focus on art, especially monument building. Piena loved the boulder formations they made, and not only helped them with some marionettes but also paid them with jewelry whenever they finished.

However, today was a different day. Piena had always protected the Quara Korala from the outside world, but times had changed, beauty was always in peril, and merely whispering in dreams was not enough.

"I'm sorry for meddling with your little arcadia of peace, Piena." said Ilunabar

"If you hadn't proposed it, I would have had a proposal of my own. I know it is for the best, I cannot keep them safe forever, one day, the ugly and wicked will arrive." But she surely would miss the day she knew them all by name.

The power of cults serving the gods had been proven across Galbar, even the unofficial ones like the Chippers had tremendous power of change. Relying on dreams, as Ilunabar tested on the Phantasmagoria, could work on certain situation, but she needed more than just mortal imaginations on her side, she needed their minds, their friendship. It was with this mindset that Ilunabar proposed the creation of a group of minstrels under the direct control of the Diva of Aesthetic.

Many artists were born thanks to dream whispers, but this new group's art and storytelling were meant to be beyond that. They would spread certain aesthetic and selected tales among the people while also recording the peculiarities of each community. And, sometimes, they would execute artistic endeavors like monument building.

The Quara were chosen because of their own birth as a sentient race under the intervention of Piena. They were always day dreamers, far more connected with Raka than other species, they were the ones most ready to understand Ilunabar's objectives. Furthermore, their numbers were small, very small, and a good deal of their community would be members of this new group, the Grand Parade.

There was a rumbling in the halls of the first floor of Cipher. Enas Amartía sat dozing quietly on his throne. His snoring was amplified by the vaulted ceilings and empty halls of his great throne room. The palace had architecture like no other in the world, and was sufficiently exotic in his own kingdom to inspire awe in the populous. Cipher was to be a five story masterpiece, built by the amazing designers called the Tedar and the tireless miners and builders called Goblins. The first floor was split into three sections. The largest and main section was the throne room. A massive meeting room in which people of Xerxes could see their Enas and the Popei, leaders of towns and villages outside the city-state. The other two sections were to be a ballroom, or a massive showroom, which would sit to the left, and to the right was to be a place of worship to him, a massive altar for those who worshiped him. Unfortunately, the only finished room was his throne room, upon command. The rest of the first floor was still under construction.

White marble pillars led up to his throne on either side of the walls, encrusted with a plethora of red, blue, and purple gems. Red drapes fell from the pillars, a yellow triangle with a star on top lined the ceilings. Cream colored marble tiles coupled with large archways leading into the other sections. In between the spaced marble pillars, mosaics and ornate ruds stood unfinished with statutes. Two of which stood on either side of him, the rest was to be of the rest of the deities.

Curled up in his mighty marble and mahogany throne, the Enas slept. Today the court stood empty, the only soul to speak of was that of Sin himself. Outside was a different story, a warm mist of rain had begun to fall and lightning could be seen streaking across the blackened sky to the north. Storms had a unique way of putting him to sleep. The rain bore down mercilessly upon the heart of his city, pounding on the rooftops and turning the dirt streets into a warren of slick stones and muddy waters. The building of the city went uninterrupted though, many taking to the field in gusto.

Soon though, the silence was broken. The echos of multiple footfalls roused Amartía from his slumber. The presence of the Illumi signified the point in time in which they were to divulge and hear the wisdom of their Lord on matters of the realm. Slowly, the green light of Sin's eyes flared to life like deep, glittering emeralds illuminated by sunlight.

"Speak. he breathed waving his hand dismissively. On que, the Illumi formed a semicircle below him, each dressed in fine white linen skirts worn around the waist, extending to above the knees. Similar to his except his was worn much longer.

Troll of Greed stepped forward first. "My Enas, these past few moons since The Visit has been extremely successful. We will begin with the local information." Stepping back, Tedar of Heresy, stepped forward.

"My Enas, as requested, the following House's nearest to Cipher have been established;

The House of Construct to the god called Tenkall.

The House of Life to the you called Jvan.

The House of Magic to the god named Astarte.

As was commanded, construction was quickly performed on the three floors of the temple, and is quickly being used, the House of Construct at least. Many seem to stay away from the House of Life. As was mentioned, each temple is divided into stacked upon levels. The bottom, is a place of worship the god. The middle level is a place of sacred practice, huge floors where tradable goods are manufactured chiefly by man.

As was also mentioned, the House of Construct has been quickly taken up and used by many Roavik, mainly Goblin. The Goblins in the Ironheart mountains also seem to have taken interest in a hard, dark, glasslike volcanic rock, and have brought back many samples to experiment with. Many have died just trying to attain it."

Many began to snicker gently on the last few words. Goblins were known for their general stupidity, but that made them perfect candidates for all kinds of Sin, Lust mostly. With a wave of his hand though, the snickering stopped. He was interested in this, glass-like rock.

"This. . . volcanic rock, it is glass no? And it is a rock? These are two different properties, that in itself is cause for pause. But what makes them use to us?" he inquired, and that was just the inquiry they were hoping to get. Eagerly, the Azibo of Pribe stepped forward.

"It seems that when harvested, it breaks oddly, creating razor edges. They are sharper than any stone blade that the people are armed with." the Azibo drawled, hoping to impress his master. "With Earthen Azibo's help, we were able to extract massive quantities of these sharp edged rocks for the Goblins to experiment with. Many weapons of war can be produced with this glass."

Amartía was skeptical, glass, a weapon? It seemed foolhardy, but what if he was wrong? What if war came and this glass was the deciding factor? His Greed began to bubble forth, he couldn't let such an opportunity slip through his fingers. Turning to the Azibo, he made his first decree of the day. "Speed up this work. Have Goblin and Azibo continue to harvest this glass, then transport it to the House of Construct were I want as many Tedar and Goblins to figure out how to use it. Once figured out, I want it to used in all forms of weaponry. Bring me the first blade to be tested." he proclaimed. Immediately, Azibo of Pride went on his way, traveling to the House of Construct, then to the Ironheart mountains in order to pass on the decree.

With that, Human of Wrath stepped forward. "In light of this development, I believe is time for Amestris to begin amassing a military. the court cheered in response, but Amartía sat as stoic as ever, watching the Illumi. "Why?" he cooed, genuinely interested.

Bowing in respect, Human of Wrath continued on. "We are an every growing city-state with a large population. But we are confined to this land. You yourself longed to take the desert when you were first born, this is you opportunity, you have the power, TA-" The human was unable to finish his sentence as blood began to pour from his mouth uncontrollably. A red translucent blade lodged itself in the human's throat without mercy. Slowly, with tears in his eyes, the Human of Wrath crumbled to the floor and died.

"You are not one to speak to me as if we were age mates. I am above you all, and you will speak as such. Is that clear? he words rained like hammer blows on the Illumi, but they quickly affirmed, hoping to avoid the same fate.

"Now, this is what I want.

First, send out a decree with the following orders. A call is to be made of every able bodied man and woman to take up arms and join the armies of Amestris. Those who join will be given honor, fame, and prestige. The best of trade will be offered to them. Send this throughout the land." he began, suddenly standing and pacing around his throne.

"Next, children.

All children will take up an apprenticeship with an appointed worker, whether it be in the fields, construction, merchanting, or fighting for their land. From sunrise, to sundown, they must learn. From the moment they can speak, from the day them become adults. Is that clear?" Nodding in agreement quickly, the Hain of Envy and Human of Gluttony left to proclaim and put in motion his decrees. He was growing tired of watched the children frolic and play. There was a time for work, and a time for play. If they were to be Amestris' future, this was the path they had to follow.

Turning to what was left of the the Illumi, he mulled over what he could possibly add to today's successful meeting. "As each and every House comes to fruition, I want an administrator to be appointed. Any information regarding the well being or the development of their respective Houses will be reported to me." That was a decree that he could stand behind. The current Illumi were simply puppets, babbling idiots with power that he gave them. They had their uses though.Suddenly, as if a torch went of his head, an idea began to form. The current Illumi would grow old and fall out of use, but if he could create children of his own, children who inherited his power, that would simplify things, and it would help curb his Lust. Two birds with one stone.

After his last decree, only Troll of Greed remained. "Go out, and find me seven women. Make sure they are the best of the best, ones suited for the Enas and the next generation of the Illumi!" With that, his Troll of Greed bowed low, and ran off, tripping over his own feet. Sin frowned, this was the price he had to pay for choosing such stupid puppets.

With a huff, he sat back down in his seat, sleep calling his name one again. Today had been eventful, the formation of a military, a grand apprenticeship for children, and the discovery of a glass that could be weaponized. As Amartía slowly began to drift off to sleep, the pulsing of an unidentified object spurred him to life. A wave of power. It was as if a he was a dog and a bone had been thrown at him. Lifting himself out of his throne, he padded barefoot to the doorway of his palace. One last pulse gave him the location of his new target, a power that he began to Lust after. In an instant, he shook off his Sloth and launched himself from building to building. Lust and Greed fueled him, giving him the energy and power necessary to make one final massive leap over the Ironheart Mountains. With an immense ‘thud’ he landed on the other side, exertion setting on quickly, and with it came Sloth. Another pulse came, a latent one, calling to him, tempting him. Without a forethought, he broke into a run, the steady thump of his footsteps became a place of comfort. By surrendering himself to the miraculous beat of his feet against the grass, which soon became sand, he was able to succumb to the beast that was his Sin.

Presently he came to a halt, his feet soaked in water and matted with yellow grass. For a moment, he found himself in awe. The unbridled beauty of the grasslands was nothing compared to that of the Purple Sands, but it was a close second. The pulses had disappeared, but the residual energy was still in the air. Following the energy like a dog to a specified sent, he began to search for its creator. He walked unusually slow, almost robotically, as if his brain was struggling to tell each foot to take the next step. It was as if he were in a stupor; like someone under hypnosis.

A large open site soon came into view, pulling him out of his daze. Energy seemed to radiate from the locality, but a single cave oozed it. ‘Like a moth to the flame’, Amartía made his way inside. Sniffing, searching, listening, he found himself alone in the darkness, but the energy was ever so present. A sudden pulse renewed his excitement, spurring him to move. Deeper and deeper he went, until he found that he had no need for the energy, a light led him right to his target. A swathe of leaf like skin enveloped the back wall of the cave, pulsating with energy. This is what he was after. The closer he dragged himself to the cocoon, the easier it became to make out what exactly was inside. A body.

”A body. . .” he mumbled under his breath. Eager to understand and gain more insight on the being resting in the cocoon, he lifted it from its place on the earthen floor, and placed it on his back. The sheer mass of the ever growing soul inside forced Sin to curse loudly, but he forced himself to move. Once again his Lust overtook him, empowering him. Once again, he broke into a run, dashing across the grasslands in a blur. Grass turned to sand as he twice over crossed the desert that would be his one day. Mentally, he began to prepare himself, he was to jump the mountain range once more.

Heart racing and muscles taunt, he launched himself over. Wind whipped furiously against his face as he began to descend. ‘BAM’. The earth shook under the force of the impact, but Sin didn't stop there as he broke into a renewed run. Trees soon became buildings as he entered Xerxes once again. Many stared in awe at their Enas as he sped past them. As if they sensed his approach, young children pushed open the doors of the House of Cipher, a quiet place in which he could better study his prize. Carefully, he laid the cocoon to rest of the marble floor before finding himself lounging next to it, out of breath. Lazily, he reached over and mercilessly punctured the cocoon, air and liquid spraying everywhere.

It seemed like an instant to Lazarus. He went from his vision fading as the floor was rapidly meeting his face, to suddenly snapping awake as his cocoon was violently sliced open, launching the liquids inside keeping him catatonic out into the throne room. With a momentary spasm, he rapidly sat up, tentatively sensing the world around him with his divine energies. First of all, as his energies began to exude outwards from his body, he noticed added weight on his body, and he was sitting on something. He flicked it almost instinctively. Thick and unwieldy. A tail? His form had changed. He expected this. Everything was so much clearer in his head, now that he had imbibed the power presented before him. He noticed something in the back of his head, as well. Knowledge that had been imparted on him by the god of time.

The toothy maw of his mouth opened in a facsimile of a smile as the realization that Fate dictated his creation washed upon him. All of that thinking had been done in a moment, and his actions in a few seconds. He was faster at thinking now, this much was clear. The world around him came to clarity as he supernaturally sensed the world around him, and he snapped his face to look at the demigod that sat before him. The visor on his helmet was flipped up, revealing an utter lack of eyes on his head. Where they should have sat, was not even a dent. Just a flat plane of whitened, shined and perhaps even a bit slimy skin, like that of a salamander.

He began to uncontrollably giggle as his madness overtook him, as he tracked the demigod with his face. He seeped insanity.

Wrath overtook Sin as he gaped at the being next to him. He left the comfort of his palace, jumped a mountain range, and ran the whole way forth and back for this bundle of madness. His anger began to pulse outwards in controlled bursts. He clenched his fists, forcing himself not to get violent, but his Wrath was a monster all on its own. ‘CRACK’. Amartía’s fist collided with the unusual beings’ face with enough force to throw him almost clean through a marble column.

Lazarus let out a gasp as his face was impacted, his visor flipping down from the force as he proceeded to fly across the room, smashing into a column. He wheezed for a moment, recovering from the blow before speaking, ”Why,” he paused a moment to draw in another breath, ”why did you do that?” He slowly stood up, teetering unsteadily. With another moment to exude out the energy required to sense the world around him, he began to walk back, still tracking Sin with his now visored face. His toothy maw remained in its crazed smile.

Amartía padded over to the fallen beast. His Wrath began to grow, this palace was a gift, messing with it was a sting to his Pride. ”You know how difficult it was to attain that marble column?!” he roared in retaliation. The sniveling beast seemed to be cognitive, and was acutely aware of the world around it. Interesting. Sin began to size up the being, prowling after it. In an instant, he made his move. Becoming a blur, he wrapped his red fingers around the smiling creature, all mercy gone from his eyes. Slamming the beast to the floor, he brought his face close, breathing in its scent. ”You're human, you Sin.” he breathed as he slowly loosened his grip on the monster. Amartía saw the beast in a new light, but did it?

The wind was knocked from Lazarus as he was once again slammed down, returning him to gasping. He drew in short, shaky breaths before responding. “Correction, I was human, I Sinned.” with that he cracked his mad smile again, before it suddenly vanished. His mind suddenly flickered, his previous mad glee shifting itself to utter anger. In a moment’s time, his bipolar mind had switched his perception entirely. He took in a long, steady breath, fuming. He drew upon the rituals that he had done as a human, and this time poured divine energy into one of them instead of tapping it in small amounts. He screamed out arcane words, attempting to blast Sin off with a violent curse of force.

Amartía’s green eyes widened as the beast replied. It was human? Understanding struck him like an arrow to the knee. He silently cursed the gods for their meddling and their decision making. Despite the world and everything in it being their creation, they treated it as if they were ‘all’ toys. Now he understood how it felt to be a puppet, a byproduct of divine creation. Within the blink of an eye, the beast began to chant words of divine power. Feeding of the Wrath of the beast, he crushed its windpipe, forcing it to shut up. ”Yes, you have sinned.” he huffed, lifting the monster into the air. ”And I will remove that rafter that is stuck in your eye!” he proclaimed as he became to eat the Wrath of the monster. Blood red aura began to flow out of the mouth of the beast and into his. No longer would the beast feel Wrath, but in return, he transformed its Sin into Sloth.

Lazarus’ mind, ever in flux, proved hard to change or feed off of. The Sin of Sloth did not last long before his mind flickered once again, suddenly rotating to something appearing to be sanity. You know,” he gasped out as he slowly began to mend his broken windpipe, “that would have killed me only a short time ago. But I feel, much,” another gasp, “stronger. Faster. Resilient. And more importantly, more intelligent.” He continued to track the face of Sin, before slowly uttering out, “We never formally met. I’m Lazarus. And you are?”

Wrath became Gluttony before flickering back to Wrath, then disappearing altogether. Amartía had enough of this fighting. It was apparent that the beast was mad, his mind a storm of feelings and thoughts. Under his hand, he began to feel the broken windpipe repair itself, much to his surprise. Dropping the beast to the floor, he padded over to his throne, Sloth overcoming him. ”No doubt, as you see, the gods have souped you up, much to my dismay.” he sighed as he plopped into his seat. With a clap, a young maiden brought a cushion for the being to sit on. ”Well, I am known as Amartía. It is...nice to meet you.” he retorted, gesturing for Lazarus to to take a seat. ”So, do you know what you are?”

He accepted the seat, flipping his visor up once again, revealing his eyeless visage. ”That knowledge was given to me when I became a Demigod, yes. As Fate and Time dictated, I am the Demigod of Knowledge and Secrets.” He giggled madly again, before returning to his words, ”Secrets. Such a dangerous specific. Is it any wonder why I am afflicted as I am?” He idly moved his nonexistent gaze about the room, saying, ”Say, would you happen to have a hollow wooden box, and mayhaps some rope around?”

Demigod of Knowledge. Knowledge.That word brought back so many unwanted memories, memories he didn't understand. Frankly, he didn't want to understand. Bugs, people of the plants and eaters of the sun's energy, it was all so foreign to him. He kept his face deadpan though, this wasn’t a time to show weakness. ”You speak of affliction, Sin is an affliction all of its own.” he chortled. Watching Lazarus, he began to realize the true potential of the demigod. Whether it be for war, or for domestic reason, such a power would be sought after by many. His Greed wouldn't allow that. Waving for a nearby attendant, he went about gathering the materials necessary fulfil the demigods request. ”She will get them. But tell me one thing, where do you plan to go after all this?” he began, gesturing to the room they resided in. ”You are welcome to stay here.” he cooed, watching the halfling warily.

”Perhaps. Though I imagine I may have to travel for some experiments I have in mind. Inherent dangers. Gathering subjects. I may stay until I have somewhere of my own, to dedicate to my own means. The mountains sound nice. Secluded. Nobody to interrupt.” he slowly petered off, seemingly lost in his tumultuous thoughts. Ideas. He needed that box. So many things to write down, so much potential. He withdrew his sensory energy to a perceptible point as he turned inwards. He was essentially ignoring Amartia as he considered options and pursuits available to him.

Amartía rubbed his bald head absent mindedly as Lazarus seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts. Sin began to poke and prod, with an asset like Lazarus around, Xerxes, Amestris would prosper, expand. But he knew that he couldn't force the demigod to stay, he was no pet. ”Lazarus, he began, his words easily snapping the young halfling out of his thoughts. ”Well before you leave, I have a request. Amestris is ever growing, and as a growing nation, it is bound to run into those who wish to halt that growth. We live in a primitive age, stone is the material in which wars are currently built upon, but who ever hops the latest and greatest material, will have the upper hand. With your knowledge, do you think you can grow upon the weapons of war that this world clings to?”

He idly considered Amartia’s words. ”Given enough time, metals seem promising, but I would need to test. Metallurgy is within my grasp, but not nearly the most efficient form of weapon I could provide. Now, the gap. I have some ideas in mind. If what I’m thinking proves correct - I would have to test first - I could very well weaponize it. Imagine. Sending a single person into the chambers of your worst enemy. And then his mind implodes and opens a portal to the Gap. Whatever is contained within comes out. An army on your enemy’s doorstep. Of course, they might be hostile to you as well, but the element of surprise would be on your side. I would have to test. So many tests. What about that wooden box? And a gem. A gem would be nice. A sample of a god’s essence. I have an idea. Not set in stone yet. So many things. So little time. The box?” Lazarus unleashes an utter stream of consciousness, the entire time looking at Amartia.

As if on que, the young servant returned, Lazarus’ requested box in hand, and rope in the other. Shakily, the servant placed the smooth mahogany box in front of the demigod and scurried off. Sin lost in thought, so much so, he barely noticed the servant. The possibility to weaponize...The Gap? It was an amazing idea, so much so that his Sloth became Lust. No man or demigod would step in his way, kingdoms would fall to under his rule. Yes, that was the power he wanted. With that, he promptly sat up, gazing at Lazarus with an unusual light in his eyes. ”Alright Lazarus. You go ahead and begin, go about experimenting. I will help you in anyway I can.”

Lazarus simply nodded. ”I assume we are finished? I have work I need to get to. Things that need to be done. Everything’s clear right now. Though I imagine it won’t be for long. Need to get to work immediately. Do you have private quarters prepared?” He stood up from the cushion, box and rope in hand. His visor flicked down once again as the force of moving upwards pulled it towards the earth.

Amartía nodded, pointing in the general direction of an empty pyramid temple. ”On the second floor will be a massive workroom, the top floor will be a luxury quarter in which a patron can reside. It's all yours. The House of Knowledge.” he offered. It seemed that four Houses would be established today.

Lazarus simply nodded, scurrying away. Once he had located his quarters, he set to work, setting down the box. First, he looped the rope about it, allowing him to sling it over his shoulder and carry it with him. Next, he began to utter arcane words, pointing them in the direction of the box. Pouring immense amount of energy into the box, he set up a long series of arcane puzzles and guards, cursing and hexing the entire box for good measure. Anyone who failed the puzzles and failsafes would be in for a nasty surprise. With that done, he set to work. Rapidly forming a language in his mind, he began to carve arcane runes into the box, yet without tools. He wasn’t traditionally carving, but instead using his mind to overlay runes. A journal, to record his experiments and thoughts. Secure from prying eyes.

The sun was two handwidths above the horizon, rising still behind him and to the east as Custos flew into sight of the horde encampment. He landed far enough out such that Violence would have to come to him, but close enough to be easily heard without amplifying his voice. Wings retracting, Custos yelled aloud to Violence, "Violence, I wish to challenge you to combat! Will you accept? If you accept, show yourself!"

Violence looked up, red eyes shining as he examined Custos ahead of him. Tular stood next to him, idly creating and then dissipating a ball of compressed destruction. The horde was arrayed behind them, responding to the sudden voice that echoed out around them. "No." He grinned, his white mask stretching unnaturally. "It's always more fun to fight amongst the mortals. So much more exciting!"

"Really? Why not have some destructive fun elsewhere and let the mortals fight it out themselves? Besides, I promise you will have more than enough fun fighting me."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll fight me wherever I am. No need to rush, Kyre my boy." He waved a dismissive hand. "Now, if that's all, we need to go. Unless, of course, you'd like to speed things up...?" Violence grinned again, watching him.

"If you wish to force a fight here and now, well... That would render your deal with Teknall null and void now wouldn't it? The horde and the village would be destroyed. I simply offer a bit of entertainment before the main event. You wouldn't want to lose that favor he owes, correct?"

"Fiiine. But I have plenty of entertainment before the horde...in fact,since your here, why don't I show you some entertainment?" Violence snapped his fingers, and Tular ran off. It took only a few moments, the Hain coming back with another, smaller, Hain in his grasp.

"You see Kyre, not all of the Hain were in villages. Nor did the Horde always kill their victims. They knew I'd like some fun too!" Violence took the Hain child from Tular, chuckling. "This little boy here was lucky enough to live after watching his family torn apart. I'm going to do the same to him now. You can leave if you don't like entertainment." Violence ripped off the Hain boy's leg, tossing it aside. The boy screams started echoing across the camp, stirring the horde's bloodlust. "What's the matter, boy? Can't take a little entertainment?"

Despite Custos' eyes being incapable of it, they gave off the sense of being narrowed in anger. "You know what? You're a coward,"

"And you're a fool who cares ab-"

Suddenly, a flash of light covered the horizon behind Custos. Anyone laying their eyes upon that flash would find themselves temporarily blinded for a couple of seconds. "Let's see how you'll react to this..."

Violence lifted a hand to his eyes, glaring, while Tular and the other Horde members flinched away. He looked down at his now empty hands. "Well. That was rude. I was having fu-"

Custos was suddenly very, very close, and in a flash, there was a stone gauntleted fist in his vision. Then, it hit him. Comparatively, it was like a human getting hit very hard in the face with a large brick.

Violence's head snapped back and he went tumbling through the air, coming to a stop in a pile of limbs and dirt. "Oh? Are we kicking off the festivities now?" He cracked his neck, spider web lines all throughout his mask. In an instant he was gone, linked hands going to crash down on Custos' back. Only to find the back of his opponent's head rushing towards him. Violence stumbled backwards, pushed back by the force of the blow.

Quickly bending forward, Custos charged shoulder-first straight at Violence, slamming into him and sending him flying back and with a 'bang' through a tree.

Violence bounded to his feet, grinning. "I don't quite like this area. How about we change it to a more...crowded area, hmmm?" With a burst of speed he was gone, heading towards the Hain village.

"So much for favors..." Blindingly fast, even for Violence, Custos appeared in front of him, wagging a finger in disappointment. "To be expected."

"I'm not going to touch a hair on their shells! I just like fighting in cities! All the collateral will be on you!" Without warning, Custos tackled the avatar, charging him through tree and boulder... Well, anything that got in the way was broken, shattered, and generally destroyed as they went. Suddenly they broke into a clearing, and with a knee to the stomach of Violence, Custos brought his arm back to deliver one more punch that sent his opponent back.

Now.

Above the two avatars streaked a bright light, like a falling star. However, it was getting closer fast. Really fast.

Violence quickly recovered, tilting his head at Custos. "Well. This is boring...." Violence looked up at the light; realising what it was he quickly stepped to the side, just as it crashed into the ground where Violence had stood but a second before. The ground where he landed exploded in a shower of molten slag as rocket jets decelerated the giant metal form instants before impact and its four great metal legs absorbed the rest of the impact. A hypersonic shockwave followed, blasting through Violence's ears and thundering across the landscape. The metal plating glowed white-hot from the heat of reentry, drying and cracking what little dirt nearby that was left undisturbed. Swiftly Goliath stood upright again, unfettered by the impact, and drew weapons with each of its six hands.

"An ambush? Really?" Violence said. "And you call me a coward."

"I said it would be fun, didn't I?"

Violence waved a hand. "Technicalities. If I can't use them you can't." He looked Goliath up and down, then glanced at Custos, ducking under blades to get a better view of the robot. "So. Is this everyone, or shall I wait for more dramatic entrances?"

Goliath was not one for discussions, or honour, or fun. At last Teknall removed the restraints from Goliath, and now Goliath could be the ruthless killing machine it was built to be. With great speed, Goliath stepped forwards to Violence, and with calculated precision and startling speed and strength he thrust out a spear, swung down war hammers from above and the left, and sliced with a sword from the right.

Violence leapt over Goliath, landing on his head. "How rude!" He quipped, leaping away again as Goliath swung an axe at him.

"I would love to stay and chat. But this is all rather premature, and while exciting, ruins the fun! I'll go back to my horde, you to your village. Buh-bye!" This was all said as he dodged, smacked out of the air, or simply ducked half a dozen crossbow bolts fired at him by Goliath. Violence sprinted off towards his Horde, leaving a cheerful wave in behind.

Not on my watch! A sonorous voice was heard. The clouds above parted as a massive pillar, almost fifty feet in length fell from the sky, heading towards the area Violence had just started running to.

At the same time, from the forest in front of him came a flash of light before a massive beam of sunlight shot forward towards Violence, burning everything in its path. This attack from earth and sky was sure to cause some trouble for his brother's Avatar, Ull'Yang thought.

Violence screeched to a halt, digging in his heels and backpedaling rapidly. "Is that Ull'Yang? I haven't heard your voice in millennia! My, my, everyone is brought out here today! It'll be fun!" He darted to the left, heading towards the Hain Village. "But later, though! This is all rather sudden! You didn't even give me time to prepare!"

"Sorry, but I've got some favors to repay. I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for the meantime!" Yang'Ze shouted and ran towards Violence whilst at the same time manipulating his rod, shapeshifting it into a long golden chain.

With a shout, he shot it forward, his divine essence guiding it like a missile towards the fleeing Violence, intending to bind him.

Violence ripped a tree from the ground, throwing it in the way of the chains. It shattered into a pile of splinters. "Fine. Hands on approach it is!" Violence darted to the side, grabbing the chain. "Come down here Yangy! I want to chat!" He yanked on the chain, intent upon dragging the sun god to him.

Yang'Ze didn't expect Violence to just grab and pull at his chain, so he was taken aback a little. Still holding onto his weapon, Yang'Ze allowed himself to be pulled forward while a smile appeared on his face.

"Vestec, you sure you want to be touching that right now?" Yang'Ze sneered. Suddenly, hundreds of shackles started sprouting from the chain, each one going for the Avatar's four limbs. One particular chain grew where Violence had grabbed the chain, its steel jaws closing in with unimaginable speed.

Violence quickly let go of the chain, dodging out of the way of the first one and leaping back from the hundreds more that followed. "For shame, changing things like that this. But if you want to change things, I can change things too!" A massive javelin appeared in Violence's hands. He threw it with deadly accuracy at the incoming avatar.

As Violence was distracted with Yang'Ze, Goliath struck, his rockets propelling him at Violence at super-sonic speeds. He thrust his spear at Violence and had his swords poised to catch him if he dodged to the side.

Violence ducked to the side, grabbing Goliath's spear as he did so, Violence dug his heels into the ground, lifting the spear up to throw the giant metal robot over him. As he did so, two swords, one axe, and two warhammers all hit him at once. Over Violence's head Goliath went, yet its grip on the spear stayed firm, and it landed firmly on all four feet on the other side of Violence. Unrelenting, Goliath swung another flurry of blows at the Avatar of Vestec, who stood so close.

"Hmph," since his binding attack failed and with the incoming spear from Violence, Yang'Ze retracted his chain, coiling it in front of him before melding it together to form a thick, circular golden shield.

When the spear fell upon his shield, Yang'Ze's whole body felt the impact as he was thrown backwards a few feet. Fortunately, the shield took most of the brunt of the spear.

Yang'Ze took a few moments to regain his composure before locking on Violence once more. It seemed like Goliath had made his move. Yang'Ze cocked his arm back and threw his golden shield with force towards Vestec's avatar. On its way, the shield started spinning uncontrollably while razor sharp teeth grew from its perimeter. This deadly shield headed straight for Violence!

More cracks appeared on Violence's mask, and he grunted in pain. He grunted again and more cracks appeared as the weapons struck him again. He heard the whistling of a large shield heading his way. He swung Goliath around towards the incoming projectile, Goliath's four legs scuttling to maintain their footing, creating a giant metal robot barrier between him and the shield.

Quickly Goliath twisted its two arms with the bucklers on them behind itself, angled them to deflect the shield overhead, and braced them against the impact. Simultaneously, Goliath's two sword arms sliced inwards at Violence's hands like a pair of scissors.

Custos was not yet out of the fight, far from it, Kyre himself let the idea for a new weapon enter the minds of the Hain at the village, and in turn his avatar. Quickly an axe formed from its hand, but the blade was thrice the size of the usual, and the handle thrice as long. With a head of stone and a bar of wood strengthened by his power, Custos charged at the back of Violence.

Stopping, planting his right foot behind his target's corresponding heel, roots grew out to that Violence's foot in place. With nary a noise Custos twisted right, weapon stretched out behind him, a wind up for a great swing. Then he let loose, swinging horizontally at the target's waist, the power from his arms multiplied in speed and power by the body's rotation...

---

Moon: 339
Bato stood before the chief of the frinji tribe, surveying her and her people. They were rather different from those back home. For one thing, their hair was as the hot-red! And their skin was pale as the cold-white of the mountain tops. Bato stood wrapped in a great many furs, beneath which was the Warrior-Chief dress that his father had given him, and around his head was the head of the beast. He leaned upon his Warrior-Chief spear and waited on them to speak.

'Well! Go on then, deliver the message you delivered to me, let the people hear and let us see what they shall do with you!' the chieftess ordered him with a haughty voice. Were she not so beautiful, Bato might have taken the smallest bit of offence. But as it were, hearing her voice was far more pleasurable, and the cutting tone with which she spoke served no other purpose than to endear her even more to him. Perhaps it was because she was unlike any other frinji woman he had seen before - she acted far more like his sisters, far more like an Eskandar.

'Oh you eminent people, I have come to you carrying a most honorable message. It is from Eskandar and it is: "By the Gracious Moon-Mother who blesses whom she doth please, and curses whom she doth please. Transgress not! and come to me in submission to Her blessings." So what is it that you say?'

With this, the chieftess turned to her people, who were all sat down, and raised her arms to the heavens.
'Oh people! Advice me in this matter, for I am not one to decide before referring the matter to you,' those who were seated turned to one another and began muttering to one another. Bato watched with fascination this strange method that the people here used for deciding important matters. What was this? A chieftess and she did not cut with a decision until she asked her people? Why was she a chieftess at all then? Eventually, another woman stood up and made a declaration.
'Oh Maki, you know us well. We are a people of great power and strength, and we are ready to do as you command. But the word amongst us is yours, for you are our chieftess and we bow down before your vision,' at these words, a huge shout (of approval?) rose up, and did not die down for a good minute or so.
'It is my view, oh people, that chiefs, should they enter upon a camp, make those who are honoured within it the most despised and wretched in creation. But I shall send back with this messenger a gift of great beauty, a gift of yellow-stone. And we shall see what comes of it,' and with that she turned upon Bato and bid him follow her back to her tent, and that he did.

When they were both within, he finally spoke.
'Maki - if I may call you that - you know not the Patriarch. He shall not be impressed by gifts, no matter how grand. He shall not be content until you submit yourselves to the blessing with which the Moon-Mother has honoured him. For he is the blessed of the Moon-Mother, and all must know it, and all must celebrate it. That you may share in what has been granted him and be of those who prosper,' the woman was clearly unimpressed.
'I have spoken to the people, and they have asked me to decide, and thus have I decided. And I am not one to go back upon a decision once it has been taken. And even were I, I do not believe your words or the words of this so-called blessed of the Moon-Mother. We are here as blessed as any, and we need no extra blessing that we may prosper. Your distance, and the distance of your people from us, will be enough for us to have those,' with that she began rummaging about in the tent, and Bato had an opportunity to look around. It was oddly empty.
'You have no- uh, you are alone here? You- you have no family?' he asked suddenly, his voice revealing a sudden embarrassment. When she turned around, there was a strange yellow rock in her hand, and a most unimpressed look on her face.
'You mean to ask whether I have a life-mate. No, I do not. A worm playing dress-up does not fancy himself man enough for a woman such as I, does he?' a disdainful laugh left her lips. Had Bato been a lesser man, needless to say, he would have felt utterly emasculated by her scornful words. But instead, there grew within him an even greater desire to make this woman his. A smile spread across his face.
'A worm is indeed a most low place to begin, but from such a low beginning, I can only grow in your eyes,' she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, and the slightest smile hovered around her lips.
'Very well, little worm. We shall see how high in our esteem you can manage to creep. Though I greatly doubt you can get very far,' she handed him the stone, and for the briefest of moments his fingers met hers, and their eyes clashed resoundingly. The mask of contempt seemed to slip ever so slightly from her face, but he did not wait for it to slip completely. He could not bear to damage the pride of such a noble creature in that way. As he turned to leave, he smiled once more.
'I will be back for you, Maki. Try not to fill the camp with sighs while I am gone,' an explosive laugh burst out behind him as he left, and he could not help laughing slightly too. The Moon-Mother has caused me to drink deeply of passion's waters, were it so that when she caused me to drink she caused you.

When he arrived before his father, his reaction was as Bato expected.
'What is this!' he said derisively, 'they wish to provide me with some precious stone? What the Moon-Mother has brought me is far greater than this! I bring them blessings and prosperity, and they send me rotten stone! By the Moon-Mother, they have elevated themselves to a great height in pride!'
'Father, be merciful, they know not what they do. They are very far away and live sheltered in lands colder than any I have seen. Perhaps a second message and an admonishment will bring them to the light of what the Moon-Mother has blessed us with through you,' the Patriarch shook his head at this.
'No. Return to them, and let them know that we shall come to them with warriors against whom they shall be utterly powerless, and they will be humiliated and debased, and they shall be expelled from the land and shall be forever hunted and cursed,' Bato shook his head and knelt before his father.
'Father, I implore you to be merciful. They are not an evil people, they are merely sadly astray. Show them of your miracles instead, give faith the chance to enter their hearts.'
'Up, boy! I am showing them a miracle - the miracle of the power which the Moon-Mother has blessed me with. The miracle of the strength of these my children, and their great number. The miracle of those who are not of my flesh yet follow me as though they were. Are these not miracles, Bato?'
'They are, father. Of that there is no doubt, but let us show them a lesser miracle to inspire awe within them, awe and belief. And if the lesser miracle should fail, let us show them of these greater miracles, so as to inspire terror and regret within their breasts, and maybe then they will return from their wayward path and place themselves - willing or unwilling - at your feet,' at these words Eskandar backed away and sat by his fire. He scratched his beard and looked at Bato with some approval.
'You speak well Bato, and you defend your case with passion. And your pleas find success in my heart and mind. Go to them, and take with you the Moon-Mother's bow, and inspire them with it, and impress upon them faith and obedience to their Patriarch and to the Moon-Mother,' Bato thanked his father profusely and, after spending the night resting with his life-mates and children, he set out early the next morning with the bow at his side.

The tribals spotted his approach long before he could see their camp, and when he entered they had gathered and were ready to hear the response of his master. He had expected to see Maki at their head, but she was not there - and a short inspection assured him that she was not sat among the tribals either. Though he had an urge to question them about their chieftess, he held his tongue and instead spoke to them.
'Oh you esteemed and fortunate people, indeed I came to you before, carrying a most honorable message from the Prophet-Patriarch Eskandar. And you gave me your response, and I carried it to him faithfully. And his fury was great! But I fought for you and placed myself upon his feet and at his mercy. And I again beseeched his mercy, for his mercy is great. And so he has forgiven you your past error and he has deigned it right to show you of his lesser miracles, that you may witness it with your eyes and find in yourselves awe and belief,' and with this he raised up the bow of the Moon-Mother and, just as his father had done those many, many moons ago, he showed to them how it worked. And they were shocked at so powerful a tool, and they walked about it and touched it with reverence. And Bato saw Maki watching from a distance, and though his innards danced at her sight, he kept himself composed and shewed her that he was indeed a worthy man.
For long did he stay with them, and he taught them the ways of the bow.

Maki came to him one bitterly cold night as he was sat by a fire, outside the tent they had dedicated to him. They sat silently for a while, and he dared not look at her. For she was so close, and he knew that she would see the weakness which her presence created within him if her eyes were to shine upon his.
'Bato,' she mumbled in a barely audible sound, 'I think...I think we did ourselves no favours when we rejected you when first you came. You have brought us a most mighty miracle. You may consider me, of this day, as one of those who have believed in this Eskandar of whom you speak. And I thank you, on behalf of our tribe, for swaying him from his fury and preventing it from descending upon us. We were indeed in great ignorance before, and the light of this miracle has been as a revelation to us, and we now see the way. And so long as the Moon-Mother wills it we shall not again stray,' Bato slowly looked up, and their eyes finally met. There was certainly a greater amount of humility in her eyes tonight than there was when last they spoke. Without a doubt, her spirit and fire remained, but they had been tempered with faith. And Bato had to admit that faith beautified what had seemed impossible to further beautify.
'And...and what of this worthless worm?' he asked timidly. He was rather surprised to see it, but a small, shy smile spread across her lips. She broke off his gaze and looked at the fire instead. His hand crept into hers, and they sat like that for a long time.

Rainclouds often hung too low to pass over the Nice Mountains, and drenched instead the surrounding foothills. Flux felt the last of the drizzle bounce and steam from his surface as the clouds finally broke, revealing that familiar, cold sunlight that heralds the long drying-out.

"Enough skulking. Come, hairknots. Our duties are not over."

The triplet fiberlings heeded his call, picking their way over the new grasses with most of their mass held gingerly high above the sodden mud, tangling and bristling irritably. It was a strange thing, to see a fiberling bristle with its whole body, but though he was patient enough, Flux had little time for their antics. He hoped dearly that they would not break back to their grotto as soon as he gave them any slack. It was a thin hope.

This was the last rain of a clammy day and night, and it seemed to have finished the job of filling the great dykes of Grot's footprints with water. A few were only puddles. Most, marking the line of his run, were metres deep. And the two that lay where the Demon King's feet had dug into the ground as he finally fell were, indeed, nearly lakes.

Mud would soon fill the shallow pools, Flux knew. Thousands of heavy battle feet had stripped the plain of grass. Both sides of Urtelem, especially, had gouged apart the flora as they moved. The oil-spirit had much to do if this place were to be restored to splendour. This was just the start.

For all their complaints, the fiberlings did go about their assigned business. It was a rare task, this, that Flux would not rather assign to the Mockdjinn. Especially not now. They had earned his highest respect in the dark day they had dubbed 'the breaking of the peoples', an ugly, subtle set of signs with connotations of earthquake fissures and heartbreak, and 'peoples', the sign being plural for two, referring, of course, to their own divided kind. It was what some had already started calling Angelblood Ridge. A hollow name, for such grief.

No, Flux held the Urtelem close to his heart, and he would not interrupt their time of mourning for petty responsibilities or trivial harm. A matriarch was gone, struck down in her prime. Every single survivor now bore scars, wounds which were no less debilitating for being cracked into rock. More than twenty others lay broken, now sleeping deep in the earth. Many had been parents. There were children who had started refusing to eat.

Besides, fiberlings, those mute sadists, were good at this. There was nothing about a rotting corpse that reviled them. Their senses were keen and they worked fast. If anything, they thoroughly enjoyed the process of tickling a dead warrior to see if it would move, and if it did, lurking around like three huge sharks until Flux allowed them to tear it apart.

Carrion crows had come, gorged, and bloated until they could no longer move. Maggots were too slow. The dead lay unburied and undisturbed, and without Flux, those fated to rise again could simply get up and kill like the war had never ended.

The softly luminescent liquid spirit was hundreds of years old, if not a thousand, and had buried many drowned bodies in time. Yet never had he seen such a proportion of undead. Grot's sorcery had seeped out of him and into the very dirt where his army collapsed. Most, true, were altogether harmless, even some from the horde. To these, death had been a harsh lesson, one taken to heart. Flux made them pledge a solemn oath of peace and reparation, repeated until he was satisfied it was genuine.

Those who woke up and still thought violence could help them cling to an overdue soul, well. That was one thing fiberlings could do reliably enough.

Flux cupped some water from a puddle and poured it over the face of the latest to rise. She was a goblin, or had been. Her neck sat at an odd angle, and most of her bulky chest and shoulder had been crushed. More importantly, her limbs worked, even if she clearly didn't have enough lung left to talk in more than a rasp.

Spluttering, not yet aware that the need to breathe was over, the goblin began scraping her arms on the dirt, slowly gaining strength. A fibreling touched the tips of her fingers and Flux flicked it away as she tried to speak.

"'uk're eeeyou?"

"My name is Flux, of the Fractal Sea. Tell, quickly- How much memory do you still retain?"

"Mem'ry o' wot, ya jibb'rn freak?"

Patience, now. Either dignity would return, or it would not. For all the muck and slander involved, waking up the dead was never boring. Flux no longer heeded insults, and his ascendant curiousity always picked out something different about each awakening.

"There was a battle."

"Pfyeh, an' I died in it. Doncha hav'ny fresh news?"

This one was remarkably quick on the uptake. If the goblin turned out to be a keeper, Flux would let her talk to some of the other repentant horde warriors. Some of them believed everything he told them, other than that they were dead.

"I see you would prefer it if I made haste. Very well, goblin, answer this: Should I spirit you away into the village of the one who killed you, at night, and put in your right hand a burning torch, and in the left a knife, what should you make of yourself?"

"I'd drop 'em both and drag 'er outta bed just to punch 'er in the face, ya goddam smart-tits sponkus, an' then drown yer ass in 'er pisspot. My name's Yulosi, not 'goblin,' ya daft soggy blob."

The test, of course, was not so much whether the undead would choose to take revenge so much as they would extend it to innocents. By either measure Yulosi passed with superb credentials, even if courteous society would clearly remain forever beyond her, and she still spoke as if she was a conscientious objector to the letter 'h'. Flux decided that this one could stay without further screening. All he needed was the oath.

"Acknowledged. However, in order t-"

One of the fiberlings was gone. Almost instantly it was followed by another, the third on its heels. Flux whirled, abandoned Yulosi, and swept after them in a gliding motion, leaving a streak of light. Not as fast as the hair monsters, the wing-like shape nonetheless held onto their trail close enough to see what they were sprinting over the damp earth for.

Ashling.

And yet, though they drew closer in measured instants, Flux alone saw that it was more than that, or less.

"Halt!"

It was too slow to be a true Ashling. Too calm. Too bright. It had the form of what had been a mountain goat, at least up to the neck.

"HALT!"

The disembodied predators slowed, momentarily, at the force of Flux's command. It was enough. At an ungodly sprint the Sculptor veered to the fore of the lead fibreling and snapped himself at it like a whip, the sound ricocheting into the distant ridge, and the whole world blurred with their speed as they tumbled over one another in a cloud of drifting hair detached by the shock of impact.

Flux recovered before the fiberling and watched it scatter to reclaim its missing filaments. The others circled him, distrustful, edging slowly towards the not-quite-ashling on either side. He backed up to match them. There were no organs in him to choke, no solids to tear. He feared not.

"This is not an ashling."

In the distance, Yulosi was running after them. The fiberlings silently judged. They knew what they saw.

"This is not an ashling!"

With that Flux smacked the glassy flank of the entity, sharply, and it staggered, its lower body lilting, top-heavy. It wobbled and backed away, making no move against him, failing to reform the thin crack that had been split in its side. "Look! Gaze upon it with what semblance of a brain you hide in all that filthy shag! It is feeble and dim of mind!"

They were slowing, at last, realising that whatever its appearances, this shambling, brittle piece of work was no real threat to the biosphere, and certainly far less of a threat to them than the oily black faery-charmer. Their sibling had taken its hair and fled to find dry ground, and they reluctantly turned and followed it.

Yulosi was catching up, tireless with zombie vigour. Flux composed himself, his vivid sunset glow dulling somewhat. This one was unusual. "You have returned."

"Well, shit." She seemed to be questioning the wisdom of her decision.

"Good. Remain where you are." Yulosi promptly ignored the command and sidled in front of him, towards the curious organism. In a strange move, Flux's halo of fae also made their way to its body, their downwards-balanced blades resting on it with small tinking sounds. "'ell is this?"

From the neck down, the goat's body had suffered the same brittle blight as any other ashling, at least in shape. Glassy plates scratched over one another along fracture lines that had been joints, and there were pockmarks and cavities where the material had reforged itself under strain. Its colour was clearer than other ashlings, revealing the delicate organosiliceous structures beneath. Where there should have been a head, the neck only branched and cracked, spreading, like a flat-topped tree upon which the fae were perched, into a wide, heavy crystal matrix, in a translucent scarlet that could only be called blood. The closer he looked, the more Flux could see the semblance of veins and nodes in the construct, shades of red and black no less beautiful for their grisly origin.

Yulosi rested her palm on the once-goat. It shuffled at her touch, turning slightly, as if to direct its faceless gaze towards hers. "'sdead," she announced. "Died 'fore it got turned. 's n' arrow shaft in it."

It was rare enough that a mortal noticed something accurately before Flux, much less a dead woman. As soon as he looked, he saw that it was indeed so. Black flint and a line of wood was visible beneath the smoky glass, sealed seamlessly by transformation.

"A commendable observation, Yulosi," he conceded graciously, "but I require from you an oath of peace before I allow you to continue. Some hearts, once lost to the horde, do not turn; Even in death."

"Don' do oaths." Yulosi didn't even look at him. Her hands stroked the head-branches of the mysterious creature, tapping aside the fae that settled there, casting strange shadows.

"Would that I could offer exemption! No, Yulosi, my precautions must be given fairly. All who rise again shall promise amends for the tragedy. I demand no more than this: Only that the wounded earth shall be healed."

"Or what? Y'll kill me?" Yulosi glanced up and smirked with the side of her mouth. Her left tusk had been chipped in the battle, and that only made it sharper.

"If you wish. I respect your values, and I have no qualms with holding you to them. It is the only alternative."

"Really? How 'boutcha 'splain t'me what this is then?" With her free hand, Yulosi abruptly pinched one of the fae by the base of its blade, ink running down her fingers, and impaled it into her other wrist, already comfortable with the death of her body. When the goblin withdrew the hand with which she had been examining the not-quite-ashling, its fingertips were coated in glassy green, the shade of her skin, no doubt, when she had lived.

"Didjoo come up with that? Nah. Didn't think so. Grows on undead meat, zombie meat. 'ts a pox, a barnacle. All it wants is... Vigour. What faeries suck up."

Yulosi cackled. "Lis'n up, Flux. I'm make a deal wit'choo. Yulosi don't wanna kill no more. She just wants to live 'er life, keh keh. So how 'bout you just take me to the nearest Rockman nest n' jus' let 'em take me out if they see black on my dear zombie 'eart? Y'want peace wit' me? That's how you get it."

There was a silence. Then Flux looped a sleek fluid limb around the neck of the goat-like creature and began to lead the placid thing back to the ridge. "Very well, Yulosi. Do not leave my sight. Do not betray my trust."

"Keh keh keh! Wontcha look't that?" Yulosi yanked the faery from her wrist and tossed it back into Flux's halo. "Smart-tits blob knows what's best for 'im." Flux maintained a dignified cool.

Yulosi's cackling piped down after a while. Soon the two were solemn. She looked at the Sculptor, mouth a flat line, and cocked her chin. "Ask it, Flux."

"You are observant."

"Don' need a big brain to guess when it's the same damn question ev'ry time."

"You are observant," repeated Flux, "and fear nought, and I do not believe it's stupidity that makes you so. Though you drawl out of habit, to blend in, you speak as one who recognises wisdom, and sees it in herself, and judges truely. You are different."

Yulosi sighed. Without thinking, she snapped her fingers by her side. For a dying moment there flickered the smallest imaginable spark, an ephemeral ember lost in the night.

"Don't you underestimate us Gobbos, blob. But you aren't wrong. I'm part 'zibo. When the Defiling Demon came to the Rovaick in the distant days, when we were weak and hid in caverns, it fucked us, and it fucked our bloodlines. Some have those blighted souls among their ancestors, and most of those are still sick. I was born lucky."

Yulosi spat, though her mouth was dry. Flux looked at her, and began to see that the horrible bend in her neck was not a battle wound.

"Does the Demon have a name?"

"Does. We don't say it 'cept when the rites n' Council call us to curse a traitor. 'ts a harsh curse, so we don' say it much. His name is Yah Vuh."

"...I see." Flux bowed himself in memory for the victims, and the two walked in silence.

Some time passed.

"Flux?"

Yulosi was looking back and forth between her crystallised fingers and the mineralised mountain goat. "I think this is food." She splintered off a brittle vein from the entity, crunching it between her teeth, clearly regretting that death had robbed her of her Rovaick taste for stones.

"I think what this 'ere zombie glass tree-goat is growin' is some sorta... Rockman fruit."

And she was right.



Tira woke up for the seventh time. This awakening, it seemed, was finally enough to shake off the thick coat of exhaustion.

She rubbed her eyelids with the back of her wrists. The room was familiar, though its colours were finally growing clear: Azurite, marble, and gleaming river stone veined with minerals. There was a blanket, woven soft and warm, now stinging with drying sweat. Tira pulled it aside and let it slide down to the floor. Looked for the sky, and was blocked again by the mosaic roof. There were windows. Open doorways- A balcony. Her head drooped.

Reaching up again to the rough plainsman cashmere of her undertunic, finding nothing. No leather. No stone. No knife. Again.

Someone had washed her face and arm, only to have the slash in her cheek open up again in the night. That must have been some time ago. The skin was sealed now, though the slit remained, and old blood had rubbed into the feather pillow. She stretched her fingers to the wound and felt her teeth through the hole. No flinching. The nerves had rearranged with unusual speed.

Her ankle wasn't so lucky, so Tira had to put her weight on her off foot and hop towards the basin she knew was nearby. Leaned against it, scrubbed water into her face with her nails, drank some through her cheek and cupped her hands to drink more through her mouth. Began to be aware.

What had Dancer taught her? "Yiil ba," she mouthed, not making any real sound. "Panasi elk ma toh-dne."

See everything. Accept things as they are.

There was a tall stick leaning on the foot of the bed. It was fresh and firm, with a y-bend curve at the top. Tira took the crutch and gripped it in both hands like a paddle, pushing herself along as she moved. On the wall hung a soft-looking set of grey clothes which she ignored. She didn't want to lose sight of her muscles, aching though they were.

Hopping back to the balcony. Leaning her head through the doorway, not quite ready to go out into the sun. There was... Quite a view. She was on top of a mountain, surely, with so much green, so many waterfalls.

Okay. Time to move on.

There was another room, smaller than the first, sachets of sweet herbs set at indents in the wall. The largest held a pile of dry moss. The other wall featured a ledge with a gap in it. Tira could hear river-water rushing in the darkness below. Well, that was useful enough, after so long in bed. She scrubbed her hands and left. The smooth walls were so neatly aligned and solid that they felt almost cramped.

The third doorway had been blocked by a painted wooden panel. Tira leaned against it and realised with a jolt that it swung aside easily, admitting entrance to another space. Still no more sky. All these rooms were so smooth and vivid; They made it hard for her to judge distance. This one had a recess with a wood pile, smooth shiny timber shaped like a very large flat-backed animal and its young, a jug that seemed to be full of more water, and plenty of round fabric things, like the pillow in the first room, only bigger.

Spread upon the table was her leather armour. It was clean. On it lay the stolen stone knife. That, too, was clean. Tira tried its edge and left a thin smudge of blood there. She remembered clearly. She remembered everything. God, she remembered everything.

Never in her life had Tira felt so lonely.

She clutched the knife tightly to her chest and sank to crossed legs, bruised back to the wall. There were rites, for mourning, most of which she had forgotten and none of which felt right. Tira bit her tongue to hold in the moan and just cried, rocking back and forth, until tears carried the grief away and left behind anger.

Tira grabbed the crutch and swung it blindly against the floor, swung it again so hard it cracked, yelled, and tossed it into the far wall.

Immediately the next door opened, revealing one of the austere grey soldiers for whom the room's dimensions were clearly intended. Seeing the knife Tira was holding and the teeth she was baring, they retreated just as quickly, tapping sharply against the carved panels with what Tira assumed was their fist.

"Kint!"

The angry shout seemed to dissuade them. Tira rapidly stretched into her padded armour, knotting it roughly even as she hopped back to grab the crutch. She stood before the door with the stick in one hand and the knife gripped in the other, with which she knocked on it.

A short pause. The knocking was returned. She kept knocking, insistently, and soon enough the door began to push open again to admit the huge Lifprasilian.

Tira backed up all the way to the far wall, but did not yell. The guard, carrying on its hands a flat wooden tray piled with some kind of grain-bread beside a bowl of nuts and berries, stepped in cautiously. They said some words Tira didn't know and didn't respond to, though the tone was soft, and waited for a response.

She raised her eyebrows carefully. They said some more words, then motioned to their mouth. She returned the gesture, then tapped her belly several times. They put the tray on the table. They pointed to themself, then to the door. They put their hands at their sides and nodded once with their whole upper torso. They left.

Tira breathed and wiped her face again, then hid the knife in her tunic and lifted herself onto the table with both arms. Crossing her legs next to the food, she ate rapidly, and prepared to explore.



Tauga sprinted across Xerxes, shunting out of mind the shouts of four parents as they faded into the night behind her. It wasn't difficult. Even the grim knowledge of how unsafe the moonlit City was to a young hain armed with only a pair of trousers was easy to forget.

Five weeks.

She turned corners, clambering over places where the City was not yet finished raising and plastering mud bricks over wooden beams. The City was not large, geographically, but for the older folk who remembered a time when it had been a simple set of villages, who had lived their entire lives looking out over the green where now the Eye towered, it always felt too busy, too loud, too complex. Not so for Tauga. First of all the generations to call themselves City-dwellers was hers, and she knew the space well. Could traverse it even while her head spun.

A month, and quarter-again a month.

Tauga tumbled over an unused sack of firewood and hardly even noticed the headfirst pitch into the dirt. When she realised that her movement had stopped, she pressed her hands over her eyes and tucked her beak into her chest, panting for lost breath.

Thirty nine days, and not one of them had even told her.

In the blackness of palm against eye, something began to move and spiral. Something spread, marking out its place on her hand, her body. Something.

Tauga shrieked and clambered up, legs burning, to start running again.

Memories of voices babbled in her skull as the images came and went. Her father, quiet, worn down by labour. Mother Koonap, no less hardened by work, and still laughing. Mother Yen, the oldest, who had always assured her it would be over in an hour and Tauga would soon forget. And then her laying-mother, Sileg, who had looked away more and more as Tauga enjoyed wearing the last shell of her childhood.

Her laying-mother, whose blood ran through her veins. Whose own mother and her mother before her had always been the last to finish the second hatching. Who, in a village where most were finished in a fortnight, had taken five weeks to emerge. As she would.

Tauga knew it to be true. She had always been the one to cry when the minstrels came and sang the grim Parable of the Painter. She had grown up tallest of her siblings, strong, fast, brave, but it had always been her who looked away first when dealing with a hair-faced fiberhead. Because they reminded her of the stories.

Five weeks it had taken her blood mother. The longest of anyhain in the City.

In the moonlight stood unfamiliar walls. That alone was unusual- Tauga could find her way anywhere. But she didn't stop running, not for anything, not to think where she was going. Not to realise that there was only one place in the City where she had never been. Only one House.

Tauga hid from a night breeze behind one of the building's high walls. An ink moth drifted past her, its movement completely opposite to that of the wind that should have blown it. Unthinking, unblinking, she felt her hand snatch out at it with all her usual strength, crushed it in her fist and brought the thin spike to her waist.

The cold air was interrupted by the sound of scratching metal on porcelain, then a yell. Tauga disappeared behind high walls.

Inside the House, it was very dark. In the splay of moonlight following her through the door she could see only a few shapes. None of the ubiquitous foreman's tools that littered the rest of the city. Tauga could see the outline of stretched fabric on a frame, and little else. The only thing she could determine with any certainty was the glint of another faery, eerily close to where she had found the last one.

Tauga leapt after it. The faery ducked lazily, as if expecting her to do better, and she found herself on her face for the second time. Chattering teeth followed her as she crawled after the ink moth, deeper into the blindness.

There was a soft 'tink' very close to her hand. Tauga snatched out and immediately returned the faery to her side, her eyes full of awful whorls. Within a minute she moaned, and tossed the insect into the dark.

Footsteps, heavy and slow, sounded from the void.

Tauga clamped her jaw, forcing her teeth to stop chattering, and felt her head dart around like the scared bird she was. Nowhere had enough light to see who she was alone with. The steps came intimately close. They found her in the darkness.

An enormous hand wrapped around her shoulder and lifted up her arm. Tauga froze, every muscle seizing in fear. Her very heart held its breath.

A faint pricking at her waist, and the sound of fae on hainbone.

No motion. No other sound, only Tauga's lungs, her now-pounding heart, and a far deeper rhythm of breathing nearby. She didn't understand, and she was cold, but the smooth, rapid scratching continued, working its way to the murky shapes she could see on her back before arching around to her other hip.

It was wrong- This stranger- Being held- Empty temple- Huge hands in the dark-

And yet the shapes were finally being filled, the fever breaking. Tauga's eyes closed, and she was still. For the first time in days, her breathing slowed. When the etching finally wound around her belly and linked up where it began, it found her in an exhausted doze.

The huge palm released her shoulder and Tauga drooped forwards, jolting awake. Before she had a chance to think, she reached out wildly for the needlepoint, and after a few seconds it drifted into her hand. Immediately she brought it to her elbow. Slow panic began to surge.

"I need light."

Footsteps, then a pause. Tauga heard the single, telltale snap of pyrite against flint, and a small blaze that sent cinders into the ceiling. As the glow spread from its bowl of tinder, the obscure shapes of objects discerned themselves one by one.

There were pebbles, mineral chunks, bones, all manner of solid detritus balanced into single-file towers higher than Tauga's eye level. Blocks of unbaked clay from the river in several shades of ochre and grey. Some of it was folded into the shapes of hands and lips, perfectly lined, holding trinkets too twisted to guess the origin of. Indents in a plank held dye powders, colours which were splayed onto framed fabric or sometimes directly over the wall, murals depicting... Things difficult to describe.

The light swelled on, and the brighter its glow, the more objects Tauga could make out, piled atop each other, stashed into bags and bowls, hanging from fishing lines attached to the roof, resting in hammocks that almost webbed the room. There were fae hiding everywhere, balanced on all kinds of things, an infestation. There was even one of the grotesque glass trees that Urtelem loved to eat, that they planted with simple prayer-signs to Spiral Palms. It grew from a crack in the wall.

The House of Life was a mess- A disaster, a wreck of things that filled Tauga's empty stomach with unease, that seemed balanced on all the wrong angles. And as the fire rose to a crackle, Tauga realised that this was just the beginning of the temple's long, long life.

At last the flickering glare reached the table in the centre of the room. Upon it lay a fresh human corpse in maybe twenty pieces. Over the dismembered woman towered a being the size and shape of a Tedar, its hands delicately knapping a very small blackglass blade. But its hide was covered by a jagged shell far darker than her own, and it had no visible eyes.

Tauga's legs spasmed and kicked the floor so violently she nearly chipped her own heels as she screamed. In a single flowing movement, the monster picked up a plank and set it on the brazier, calling back the night.

More whorls. Even as she gasped for breath, Tauga was pressing the ink moth back onto her arm.

For a long while the silence returned. The calm had come back. Unable to see what must surely have stood before her, put its hands on her, Tauga's voice cracked into a hoarse whisper of City pidgin: Who are you?

The voice that responded was high and gentle, like a young child's, and its tongue was clear.

"My name is- Help." The impossible voice did not seem satisfied with its own answer. There was a pause. "Yes. Help. That is who I am."

Tauga's knees were knocking. She had to grip the ink moth to stop herself throwing it away again. "Are you- Am I- Going to die?"

"Not tonight."

"But she's dead."

"This one was killed by falling masonry." Help spoke evenly, soothingly. "No one knew why. Yah Vuh told me to look, so I became curious. I think she bled out on the inside. Her rib splintered into sharp points, though her skin was only bruised."

With great precision, Help lifted the plank from the fire-bowl, allowing a slit of light that fell on a piece of split bone while keeping themself in the darkness. Haunted by spiralling visions, Tauga found herself unaffected by the sight of the sectioned human on its own. Blood didn't frighten her. She began to etch again in the half-light, staring at the shape of the corpse, talking to Help, talking to anyone just to distract herself from seeing the patterns of hatching. Even the monster with a child's voice.

"I thought... Yah Vuh was hated."

"What God gives by the right hand, it takes away by the left. Yah Vuh cannot think as we do. I judge him no more harshly than I would judge an animal."

"What about the Énas?"

"He has taken this woman's life with his ambition, and provided me with an excellent body. He has worked goblins to their death in the mines, and given me blackglass with which to take her apart. God kills and it nurtures. I mourn the killing. I am grateful for the nurturing."

"But that was an accident! He didn't mean to kill her!"

"Of course not." Help closed the bowl. Footsteps, and the clack of pottery. A sudden wetness around her beak and Tauga yelped. "Drink." Arms still locked in an awkward position, the hain sputtered, then quenched the thirst she had been ignoring since her sprint. The water was taken away. The fire bowl replaced it, open just a little.

Tauga tried to resume her scratching. The feel of cool water had broken her concentration, and now her heart was beating again, her fingers shuddering around the faery. Just enough light fell on her shell to show her the belt of curves around her waist and hip, and her head drooped again, eyes shut. Five weeks. Thirty-nine days to etch those bizarre shapes and pictograms.

"Help?"

"Of course," they answered, folding a blanket over Tauga's shoulders and gently guiding her hand. Help stayed at Tauga's side until the dawn came and illuminated the two shells, line by line, side by side, hand in hand.

"It's a very beautiful town," Ilunabar thought, as she floated across the recently built city-state, fully controlling her essence and image so that her visit goes unnoticed.

Perhaps even more than the Citadel, right now, as Lifprasil had to fight in the war, meanwhile Amartia was able to rule directly and uninterrupted. Building delicate webs of intrigue as he laid the bricks of this new society.

Sin... A very limiting concept that claims self-esteem, ambition, curiosity and the love for what is good in life, is somehow evil. "Something you would expect from Logos or Niciel, really." Yet, also a very powerful engine of progress.

The muse found herself inside a structure that dared to match her own design. Marble, mahogany and a plethora of gems decorated amazingly designed halls were people and whispers flowed gracefully. Even for a Demi-God, for a supposed child of Vestec, doing such a thing would require excellence in the arts and eons of practice. It was odd, but it had clearly happened.

Even odder was what she sensed in the halls: Another Demi-God. It was very unusual that Ilunabar didn't notice him arriving, perhaps she was within Raka at the time. Two gods in this conspiration of a town were surely less easy to deal with than just one. The talk of opening the Gap was ludicrous and very amusing, the muse only hoped Vowzra didn't notice it until it was already happening.

Back into the streets, she found herself observing the society. Amartia had lied, though, for the sake of a powerful nation, he took away the lovely juvenile carefreeness, which he might call Sloth, from the children. This wasn't right but was something you could expect from a paradoxical god of chaos who wants order.

"Thankfully, I am a very charitable aunt, and I can fix his ways for him, no need for gratitude or anything. Come, Dreamweaver."

As a quiet tune with silent lyrics was played, the attention of the pupils in the room started to dissipate. Some looked trough the window, thinking about the boundless sky and the birds who crossed it freely. Other looked at their hands, imagining that their fingers were soldiers and monsters in some sort of battle. Some, in fact, decided that they would pay a quick visit to Raka and just snoozed off.

Then she saw the Troll of Greed, mostly because he had clumsily tripped near her. Out of curiosity, Ilunabar followed him for a short while, and quickly realized what he was up to. "Oh, bride hunting huh? But his taste is a bit bad, surely a sinful person like Amartia doesn't like the kind of girl he is searching for. No no. He should be looking for sinful girls, especially the Gluttons and Slothful. This is the kind of look that will make the Enas happy."

(Free Action: Beauty (Aesthetic) to alter the Troll's concept of best of the best)

Finally, Ilunabar left like she had explored the town enough for today. "It is a very elegant place. I should send Amartia my congratulations later." However, her stroll trough the glory of Amestris had yet to end. All other villages in the world had quite small frontiers, barely going as far as the eye could see. But not this one, there was in fact, a countryside. And all sorts of exquisite interactions happened there.

For that, however, Ilunabar had to call one of her Divas. "Hello, Meimu. Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Yes, of course. But, what is this place? This is all new to me." Meimu was legitimately curious, especially considering the odd batch of peculiarities she was bringing.

First was the descendant of the Guarana, the fruit she made as a gift for Vulamera, but alas, went unnoticed. Now, while the Guarana was meant just as a quick energy boost, this one was a bit more potent, yet a lot slower. On the first consumption one might stay awake and alert for a bit longer, as more of it is consumed, the mind starts to get far keener and creative, to the point reality just looks a bit dull and physics very limiting, daydreaming starts to happen, and eventually the person might just leave everything behind and try to go to the poles, where dreams dance in the sky.

Second were a few Julian Fiberlings, colored in the beyond color of Sirenian, the color of fascination.

And third...

"Oh, darling. There is no need for that one. After seeing Xerxes I changed my overall idea of it, we need to trim the corners to make sure it grows into a pretty tree, and I fear this one might be a bit too much." Ilunabar sighed. "Now. Do plant the Eçarana, I will deliver the Fiberlings to the nearby sea. Those poor fishermen stay so much time surrounded by nothing but water and fish, it's only fair to give them something pretty to look at."

"Eh? With those, they will probably just jump in the water to reach for them and outright drown."

"Well, that is their problem, it's not my responsibility if they can't control themselves"

---

---

The box should be secure. Sooner would come the death of the universe than a person should crack the recherché depths of what this unassuming box holds. Such is fitting for such a log of secrets and experiments. And should they break the curses keeping this box from crumbling to ash or teleporting itself back to me, they will have to translate the language of which I write. They would sooner achieve mastery over the Gap.

Onto more important matters, there lay several chief things I must study. The Gap: The Divine Energies: And perhaps the most importantly, sensing when a god is overlooking me. Amartia may not be able to sneak upon me, but any god could easily spy upon me. This is something that first and foremost must be rectified. My powers pale in comparison to those infinitely my better, but I have an idea. It must be tested, of course.

This is where the Divine Energies come in. The arrival of a demigod fluctuates the natural energy in the area, to a degree of which I can sense. But a god is more powerful, yet more precise. My theory is that they can idly hold back their power, keeping the fluctuations of power smaller and more precise, whereas a Demigod such as myself would have to put conscious effort into it. On the flipside, this works both ways. Demigods can sense the fluctuations of energy from Demigods, and Gods can do the same to Gods. That is the theory, at least. Must be tested.

I never got that gem I asked for. It is the easy part of my plan. I must also find a way to measure the level of Divine Energy in the room before I can even begin to create methods to detect changes in it. Anything in my vicinity would throw off the results. I’m here, and I provide more than the baseline divine power. A measurement system based off of the baseline of when I am near would prove easy to hide yourself from. No, I need somewhere else. And that means I need a way to measure the divine energies in an area without my power being in its range. And for that matter, any other divine being’s range. Including those they blessed and the artefacts they leave behind.

After that is done, I must find a way to make this machine portable. I must also retrieve a sample of a god’s essence to imbue into a gem. Therein lies the problem. Nay, two problems. The first is, how do I capture a sample of a god’s essence? Finding a God willing -- or unwilling -- of which I can sample from would be a daunting task. Secondly, imbuing the essence into the gem would prove to be difficult. Gods have many times, I am sure, placed their essence naturally into various objects or people. The difference here is that I will be doing it artificially. I would need a lot of samples to test. I will request many samples of godly essences from Amartia, but I suspect he will prove less than useful in this matter.

Once the baseline has been placed, and measurement systems created, I must take both the machine and the enchanted gem. Incorporate them into one another so that the measurement system knows what to detect. And once it detects the god, it can alert the user to their presence. Given that they prove to not be more deceptive and subtle than the god who provided the sample enchanted into the gem. Not a reliable solution, but it would be better than nothing, and most importantly, would prevent the gods from idly looking into my work without my knowledge.

So many things need to be done. I need to work on the Gap itself as well, to appease the greedy fool that is Amartia. He knows not what he trifles with, he simply eats up my words and I let his greed take over. It is a wonder he has not been deceived into the downfall of his city yet. But he will be watching, and should I not appear to be delivering what I promised to him, a facet of Amartia will be lost; the providing of whatever resources he can get his hands on to me. I would have to locate them on my own. Unacceptable waste of time when there’s so much to be done.

The Gap itself may prove to assist in finding the answer to my dilemma, which solves the problem of Amartia. The question is keeping him out while I work on my other machinations without rousing his suspicions. I also require someone to create my machines, yet I can not rely on inquiry to the temple of Teknall in the city. Too risky, they could tell Amartia of what I am creating. Not that they would understand the blueprints or the purpose, but they could very well tell Amartia of the machines, and should Amartia not see them soon hard at work on discovering the Gap, suspicions would be aroused. He is more powerful than me, I dare not invoke a second Wrath upon myself.

The second use of the Gap is the testing of a measurement device. Should I be correct, the Gap should be in constant flux with regards to Divine Energy. Using the machine in it should help me iron out false positives of god detection. It is all about precision. The machine should be able to detect the slightest changes in the levels of divine energy in the room should it be able to alert the presence of a god to me. But first, how to measure the divine energies in the room? I can do it naturally, but that does not mean I know how to do it artificially.

Madness tightens its grip on me. A trifling problem, yet useful. I should be unaffected by the energies of the Gap, the ones that could drive even gods mad. I am already inflicted with it, I cannot be inflicted with it a second time. It could affect my research. Must be dealt with in time. For now, I must focus on my other projects and intrigue.

---

---

Lazarus closed the box, whispering arcane words to lock it once again. He had to explore his surroundings. His mind flickered, and utter curiosity overtook him. Tinged even with paranoia. Something wasn’t right, he was sure of it. Even if everything was right. He exited the pyramid he had been given, intent on making his way through the countryside. Something there seemed to call to him. People watched him pass. There is an evil holding them here, yet they will not try breaking its grasp. Perhaps rightfully so -- a demigod is not simple to kill or run off. He kept his visor down, hands folded behind his back as he made his way through the throngs of people. The countryside beckoned.

After a long while of walking, he came to what drew him there. Some kind of fruit. What did it do? There was only one way to find out. If it was edible, it would satiate his hunger. If it was poisonous, it would not kill him. If it was hallucinogenic, it would assist in finding area where the Gap seeped through. No matter what, he won from eating it. And so he plucked one of the fruits, and took a bite.

He didn’t know what to make of the flavor. Yet it lifted his mood. That he liked. He finished off the fruit. His mind was being affected by this fruit, but in a good way, he surmised. He plucked out another fruit, gulping it down as well. And a third. And a fourth. Inspiration suddenly hit him like a truck. It was the fruit. They gave him that feeling! So many ideas, they brought it out! He had to harvest them. They would be useful. So useful. So many ideas. He began to dream of what he could achieve, before he caught himself. A side effect? No matter. Its uses were too great to wean himself off of due to a single side effect.

He broke off into a full-on sprint, back to the town. People got out of the way as buildings began to surround him. He plucked a simplistic basket from one of the people. They did not complain. You did not complain to a demigod. And just as fast as he was gone from the trees, he was back. He took an extra two to consume right there, and spent the rest of the day harvesting the fruits to take back to his laboratory. All of his problems seemed so lesser with the inspiration they provided. He needed to keep himself in a high, to further his goals.

He halted suddenly, daydreaming of what he could discover. He stood in place, holding the basket filled with fruit. He would become a god, nay, he would mass produce gods. He would take the place of Fate and Amul’Sharar. The universe would be his. Gods would fear him. He would be a whole new level of powerful. Surely. It wa

He broke out of the daydream. He had more important things to do. Maybe it would be worth neutralizing the daydreaming. Unacceptable delay to figure out the horticulturalism required to do so. Something to do later. He began his walk once again, intent on making use of the drugged inspiration he had put himself in. He’d have to be more careful about the daydreams in the future.

The man with no name rose from the floor and let his gaze wander from the dying man before him.

He turned to a trunk, and from it he pulled a large ethereal lantern. The thing was heavy. Hundreds, if not thousands, of lives jingled about in the primitive lamp. From farmer to Royal Advisor, the man with no name had lived it all. He slipped the lantern open and added another one to the collection. And so the River of Souls flowed on.

The man who had no name opened a dresser, and stuffing some clothes to his evil trunk, he left the room.

The hallways were afire with yells and cries. People were shouting at the bloodstained man who had been an executioner. They were crying for their beloved King, wailing for a great injustice. He blocked them out, his mind was slowly growing fainter, he found it hard to think. Yet no one stopped him as he walked. They screamed, yes. But no one raised a hand to halt him. All but the young Uri.

He stood there, towards the back of hallway, before a flight of stairs that led out of the palace. He wore silken clothes of bright blue and had a golden ribbon, lined with purple tied above his ear. The man with no name saw the ribbon and knew that the boy was heir to the throne.

"You killed my father."

The man with no name shook his head. "I did no such thing." He replied. "Your father did not understand the ways of the gods. He knew nothing of how to keep himself healthy. He was his own downfall."

The young man fumbled for words. "I loved him."

The nameless man nodded sadly, trying to think of what to say through a clouded mind. "I did too, for a time. Many people loved him."

"But now he's gone." The boy continued, seemingly ignoring what the nameless man had said.

"He can live on." He spoke. "He can live in your actions and your memories. Learn from him, and know this," The man with no name bent down to the boy. "Immortality is not something you should seek."

The Uri boy nodded meekly. A tear dribbled down his cheek.

Standing up straight, and giving a quick bow the man with no name spoke softly. "Long live the King."

"The truth waits for you..."

Sin ran this one sentence through his mind over and over again. The words ran out of meaning soon enough. Of course, he knew that it was referring to dreaming and reality being melded together in the confines of his mind. Neither could exist without the other now. Memories of a life that had little meaning what so ever fought for space in his mind. In the end, satisfying his Lust seemed to be the only way to rid himself of the memories. Or keep them at bay.

That solution had been tested out many moons ago. As was requested, seven women of varying sizes were bought to just one of his many private apartments. The room being of an ornate over arching cathedral-like design with new aged pillars lining the walls. Everything around seemed to be either an expensive polished wood or an immaculately carved marble or granite. Red linen drapes accented with gold trimmings hid the acts.

A whole week had been dedicated to the act of fertilizing females, be it human, Hain, or Rovaik, he could careless. Being the powerful being that he was, he was able to impregnate them all. No doubt, they were pampered by the servants who walked Cipher, soon, guards were added to the ranks. Xerxes had grown quite strong during the past few full moons. He had been quite surprised himself in fact, the Illumi proved to be of use when the jaws of death reared its ugly head in thier dreams.

While his children grew in the wombs of seven, thousands gathered in Xerxes after his decree. The chance of honor and fame was hard to resist. Human, Hain, and Rovaik came together to form the bulk of the Armies of Amestris. Both male and female were accepted without prejudice, but were trained separately. Sin made sure that the training was arduous, working the soldiers both mentally, and physically. Many were told to bring thier own weapons from home, but wooden versions were incorporated just in case. While more and more citizens joined the Amestrian ranks, the Requiem went about organizing them. Five new Houses were incorporated. The House of Greed, Lust, Envy, Wrath, and Pride. While soldiers weren't organized in terms of vice, they were systematically placed in terms of power and use.

The House of Greed was home to the defenders, soldiers who resided in Xerxes in order to defend its people. They were to be spread out all over Amestris, and they would be the greatest in number. The House of Lust, Envy and Wrath was home to the true soldiers. They were the men and woman who would fight on the fields of battle, theoretically. They were trained accordingly. The House of Sloth though was an interesting group indeed. This House was to mainly be composed if Azibo and Ogru. The Ogru were being bred in small quantities, but were kept in the in the mountains for saftey.

Speaking of mountains, Obsidian suddenly became a much needed commodity. With the help of Elemental Azibo, massive quantities of Obsidian was being harvested. Carrying out his decree, Goblins soon found inconsistencies in the glass-like rock. Weapons could be forged from them, but they broke much to easily. A simple solution of incorporated. By relying on the Elements many Azibo could manipulate, Obsidian could be hardened, but retain its amazing egde. This allowed for blocks of the black rock to become blades, arrowheads, spears, and axes, and an unusual sickle-sword that was accidentally created by Goblins. A design in which Sin grew attached too. Many guards could and woulf be seen carrying these sickle like obsidian blades.

Sin was lost in thought, lounging silently in his palace apartment. All these things weighed heavily on his mind. The formation of his armies, the creation of the next generation of the Illumi, but it seemed that the gods had other plans. Reports of an unusual fruit that increased the creativity of those who ate it reached his ears. In addition, children overall seemed to be more distracted than usual, but they were children, it was to be expected. Worst of all though, the ocean began to sing. It was a song of temptation in which drew his sailors into the murky depths of the sea. He loved it. Funny how nature could be so sinful. Unfortunately, he couldn't have his fisherman dieing, so a decree was made. Wax and cloth was to be used to block out the sirens song at sea. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would work for know.

The rush of scurrying steps forced Amartía to retreat back to reality. A young servant suddenly barged in, her breath shallow . "My Enas! The seven are going into labor!" she huffed, bowing respectfully before running off again. With a sigh, Amartía forced himself to his feet. Gods or no gods, no amount of their meddling would ruin this day, he wouldn't allow it. Today was the the birth of a new chapter in Amestrian history.

With the stressful events piling up lately, Ilunabar herself decided to do like Piena and take a moment of respite between the long sessions of hard work. However, even at her laziest mood, the muse was still an active mind, often thinking about new possibilities.

"It has been a while since I last met Belvast, maybe I should prepare some seafood and treats and invite him"

And that is what she did, choosing to get a bit experimental with the technique available and mix the recently created baking techniques with the need to use fish. Thankfully it all worked out, and a delightful pie was made to welcome the Demi-God.

"Now I just need to call him. Hopefully, he is within this reality and can hear me."

Belvast was currently doing what he did about 60% of the time: Sleeping. Napping. Siesta, the works. It sure was hard work being Belvast, and the jungle canopy seemed to know, shielding his eyes from the morning sun to get just a few more minutes in. Luckily, he was asleep, his mind already lost in a dream.

Ilunabar stood a few seconds waiting for a response, but eventually felt like it was not working. Then it hit her, that maybe the cat deity was merely napping. This was actually an opportunity, as his abilities were perfect to test the relation between Raka and Reality.

Quickly moving into her home plane, the goddess searched for Belvast's dreams. And while it was impossible for her to analyze a dream, like she could do with mortals, it was still possible for her to physically visit the dream, provided the host didn't want her out.

Belvast didn't much mind folks poking around in his dreams, though Illinubar would find herself amidst an ocean swarming with fish. A statue of Grot was down at the bottom of the ocean, with seaweed encircled around his stony form, while Belvast sat at a dining table underwater, cutting apart a massive Marlin with a knife. Not noticing Illunabar, he simply ate, tail's swishing behind him.

It felt very odd to be in another deity's dream, especially because of how little she interacted with the scenario, in fact, the goddess could even see the limits of the dream world, the holes and corners where the Fantasy dream just gave up on trying to exist.

But that was meaningless, she couldn't get distracted now or the pie could end up getting cold.

"Hello Belvast, how are you doing? I hope I'm not interfering with your good time."

"Hm?" Belvast asked, looking up with a mouthful of fish. "Iwwunaba?" he questioned, before swallowing and asking: "Are you the real God? Or am I lonely in this dream?" as he hummed, pondering for a moment.

Ilunabar giggled "I'm the actual goddess. I actually own the whole dreamland." she took a step closer and analyzed the fish "Does dream fish taste as good as the real deal?" she asked.

Belvast hummed, tapping the tail of the Marlin."Well, I suppose you could say it does...but that depends on what I remember the flavor being. I can't make up flavors...but I can sort of taste two things if I want to."

"Interesting, it makes sense for odd mixes of tastes to exist here in Fantasy." this actually shed light on the issues she had with Chroma. "Well, speaking of new tastes, I made a new kind of food back in the citadel, and I need someone to test how tasty it is..."

"New food?" Belvast questioned, curiosity piqued. "I'd be honored to taste-test it...if you wouldn't mind." he said, bowing his head respectfully.

"Of course I don't. Who better than a fish master to test if my new recipe is good or excellent?"

"A god of Culinary Arts, I suppose." Belvast said before beaming, a soft purr echoing from his throat. Food was good. Like, always.

Ilunabar quickly followed him, transporting back into the Citadel room. "Here, I call this pie. You can fill it with a variety of things, sweet or salty, but this one is made of tuna."

Belvast curiously prodded it before taking a bite, wondering how much better it tasted than normal tuna.

While the overall taste of tuna was similar, the seasoning and the sheer amount of minced tuna made the taste far more intense. The Pie crust countered that, adding a delicate contrast to the dish.

Belvast shuddered and let out a content sigh, tails going ballistic behind him as he started shoveling more of the pie into his mouth. "Ish gud!" he said, swallowing after having eaten a whole slice at once. Belvast was an exceptionally big fan of this pie thing. Why did no God ever think of this before!?

"Oh? That is great. Lately, all of my inventions have been backfiring quite badly." Ilunabar wasn't even sure if Belvast was hearing what she was saying, considering how eager he was to finish the pie off.

Belvast's ears perked up beneath his hat."...What kind of side effects?" he asked, somewhat dreading the answer. "Am I going to explode?"

"Surely not. I mean, if you were to explode, you would have done it already. Relax."

Belvast sat completely still, wondering what he got himself into with experimental food. "W-Well, this pie is delicious regardless." he said, trying to make the air a little less awkward.

"Seriously. You will not explode. The pie was just dough and fish." Ilunabar sighed "Actually, the experimental part starts now. Remember that dream from an instant ago? Want to try to open a portal to there? I have been keeping the dream stable since we left."

Belvast looked around. "...Here? But fish and water will get everywhere..." he said, thinking practically. "But I can try."

"It probably won't. Probably. It's not real water, after all, it has no reason to slip trough the portal" Ilunabar would really love if she had any idea of what she was talking, but in truth, there were no examples of it before. Real objects could be sent into and out of the Raka. And dream energy could radiate, as the Aurora proved. But a dream object? This was new territory.

Belvast nodded and opened up the first portal before trying his best to visualize the dream, his third eye opening as he says: "I think it worked..." before looking to the portal, to see if it did anything.

Ilunabar was already with the Dreamweaver in her hand, expecting some sort of dream tsunami or worse. But in fact, it was as she had said, the dream ocean didn't spill into the reality. What did enter reality, however, was one of the dream fishes, which casually swam trough the portal and across the air. "Huh. This is unprecedented."

Belvast blinked a few times before reaching up to try and grab at the dream fish. "They fly!?" he questioned, wondering if he should probably shut the portal.

"Perhaps you should close it before more stuff comes out. We don't want Fate pestering us." Ilunabar had this silly smile on her face, that didn't match at all what she was saying. "But yeah, in our viewpoint it was flying. For it, however, it was just life as usual, and no gravity would change it."

She grabbed the fish and gave it to the Demi-God. "Also, don't tell your dad. This is our little secret."

Belvast nodded. "I promise." he said, with all the innocence of a child before ripping the fish's head off and eating it. He had to...for dream science! As he ate, he closed the portal before any more flying fish flew through, his third eye closing.

"Well. Today was a productive day. There was pie, and portals." Ilunabar sat down, taking a moment to realize how busy her supposed vacation time had become. "Does the fish taste as well as it did in the Raka?"

"Mhm. Not as good as the pie." Belvast stated, finishing off the dream fish. "And, today was productive." he said, taking a seat on the ground. "Was there anything else you needed of me?"

"Hmm. Nothing that I can think of." Ilunabar pondered a bit and remembered the Mobius Board. "Ah, Lifprasil mentioned you have some sort of... uh, game? I never understood exactly what he meant."

Belvast's eyes lit up and he promptly removed the board from his backpack, holding it up proudly. "Yes! This is my secret treasure: The Mobius Board." he says before setting it down. "It makes games on its own and out of whatever you give it."

"That sounds charming. Can we play a round of something?" Ilunabar inspected the curious device closer. "Belvast is quite ingenious when something holds his interest." she quietly mused.

"Certainly." Belvast said, before asking: "Is there anything in particular you'd like to play WITH? I can't guarantee it'll be put on the board, but there is always the chance."

"Oh, we have to put something in there? That is curious. Let me see if I have something interesting nearby." Ilunabar walked back to her atelier, and quickly returned with a bunch of doodles. "This is the stuff Piena drew back when the Grot war was happening. It's basically a sketch of the races, soldiers, and all that. Do you think the board can take this?"

Belvast nods, patting the board's face. "Anything as long as its not liquid or alive, I think. I haven't tried much."

"Oh, it don't take live beings? That is something you should try to fix later. Eitherway, here, let's see what the board makes out of the drawings."

Belvast pressed the drawings into the face of the board, only for the board itself to flip over and "consume" the drawings, flipping over once again to reveal the same smooth board it had once been. "There. Now that it's eaten it, it can use it in games."

Suddenly the board started to create little diamond shaped tokens in multiple colors. Ilunabar quickly noticed what they represented from the drawings in them, the yellow were angels, the red jvanic beings, blue where lifprasilians and gray were the chaos horde.

"It's very similar to strategy plans, except I guess, this one is meant to be played," Ilunabar commented.

The objective was presumably to capture a hill using the different types of soldiers available, however, there was a limit of pieces one could use, so it was necessary to balance the team.

Belvast looked in awe, saying: "Wow...I've never seen it make a game this complicated. usually it only has a straightforward path." as he examined the little soldier tokens.

"Maybe the more stuff you feed it, the smarter it gets." Ilunabar examined the factions, and decided to pick up Chaos Hordes. "Well, there is no Grot here, but the variety of choice is pretty nice."

Belvast scooped up the Angel tokens, asking: "So...how do we play?" he asked, looking around on the outer edge of the Mobius Board for the usual Slab that wrote out the rules...albeit in a language Belvast mostly understood. It was kind of made-up. He got bored in his travels.

"Ok. Let's see, first, we have to pick a field. Hmm. The South Pole?" The board stood still. "Ah, I guess it doesn't know about that battle yet, makes sense, there is no undead faction. We will have to load down this kind of content later. Anyway. What about a simple forest." This time, the board changed.

It was a simple map, a forest with a road going from one side to the other, in the middle there was a clearing with a little crown symbol over it.

"Okay. So, basically, there are turns. You start on this side, I on this one. I think the board will sort out the battling on its own."

Ilunabar tested the ground by moving a little corrupted human token.

"Eh. A bit boring for my taste. A lot of rules, very few actions" She sighed.

Belvast tilted his head. "Do you not want to play? We could try for something else..." he said, moving his own piece forward.

"Oh, it's not that. I don't mind the game. I just think it needs a bit more of a, um, visual stimuli" Ilunabar weaved her hands, filling the room with dream energy and colors.

((1FP used + Free Action Beauty (Colors) ))

An illusion filled the room, turning the surroundings similar to the forest arena of the board. The tokens were no longer mere cardboard, but illusory soldiers.

"Yes, this feels more like my kind of game." She said, standing up. "Now, let's charge into battle. We have to make a run for it, angels can fly over the trees so they have the advantage here. All archers, eyes on the sky."

Belvast was a little confused since he knew very little of strategy, but did the best he could with his flying units, trying to spread them out where he could. He really wasn't the best at matters of actual battle planning. That was more Lifprasil's strong suit.

Ilunabar felt tense in the face of Belvast's calm behavior. "Damn it, I was expecting him to rush so I could reveal my concealed Storm Djins." Ilunabar thought. Her archers weren't hitting a single arrow on the angels either. "He completely countered my plan, as expected of the master of the Mobius Board."

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing." Belvast said, moving more angels around, seemingly at random, somehow putting them at points just beyond the Archer's lines of fire. If he actually had sweat glands, he'd probably be breaking into the coldest sweat in the history of Galbar.

"He...He is hiding his feeling perfectly!" Ilunabar realized "And he goes as far as to mock me, pretending he has no idea of his strategy."

"Corrupted Hain Lancers, move three tiles to the left and go across the bushes, Human Archers, to the sidelines, try to cross that stream as quick as you can." she clenched her first. "Storm Djin, reveal yourself and blitz forward."

The Lancers would find themselves being intercepted by hidden Angel Vanguards within the bushes, keeping them locked in position while Belvast moved in with two Archangels to surround the Storm Djinn from both sides. From how he was playing, Belvast almost made it seem like the flying angel units were distractions.

"Um...these big pieces should be strong." Belvast thought, that being the sole reasoning for his Archangels getting moved.

"Oh... This can't be it. I can't lose to a cat." Ilunabar whispered.

"Let's see, the hain are down for sure, the Storm Djin are in danger but should hold it up for one turn." She looked around, and noticed that meanwhile the angels were out of the archer's rangers, they were also left unchecked by any enemy, and it would a costly move to have the angels diving down between the many trees of the stream area.

Ilunabar smirked, a quietly signaled for her archers to move across the stream into the clearing where the victory point was.

"Oh, this look like the decisive battle huh?" Ilunabar said, pointing to the archangels and storm djins. Hoping to keep all of the focus of the turn in this fight.

"Huh? Wait...that's not how you win." Belvast said, thinking for a moment on his move before one of the Archangels broke off to go towards the Victory Point, the flying Angels also moving in, basically putting the archers into a Pincer.

"Eek." Could this be it? Ilunabar didn't expect the demi-god to be so good at his strategies "Run for it, you silly Djins! Throw a thunder or something you bunch of airheads."

At this point, there wasn't much any of Illunabar's units could do, if the Archers decided to focus on the flying angels, they'd be left at the mercy of a very powerful Archangel. If the Djinn couldn't break away from the second Archangel, that would mean that this was very close to being Belvast's win, his flying angels heading towards the hill with the Archangels beginning their seperate assaults.

At Ilunabar's order, the Djin used their thunder ability, hitting a single flying angel. Immediately making it dive into the ground.

"Okay now you move to... wait." Upon closer inspection, there was something odd, the thunder damage was supposed to take the angel down in one hit, but somehow it was still alive. A message showed up.

*special ability: Niciel's Embrace. The first allied unit to be killed can come back with only one health point*

"Niciel's Embrace?" Ilunabar repeated before looking at which tile the Angel fell to when the thunder hit him. "Oh no..."

*Victory: Angel Faction*

"Tsk. Whatever, open battles aren't even my thing." she lamented.

Belvast stared blankly. "...I feel so accomplished, and so not accomplished at the same time..." he said, unsure of what actually just happened. "But...I feel like this could be fun for other people too."

"I know. It was fun. I just wish it was more about intrigue, or about who makes the prettiest straw baskets." She sighed. "Oh well. This illusion enchantment was supposed to be temporary, but since you won, I guess you can keep it, as a gift. Maybe other games can be fun with it too."

Slowly the room started to look normal again, with the typical pretty mess of canvases and statues that Ilunabar's atelier was.

Belvast bowed his head, a smile on his lips as he said: "Thank you very much for playing with me. And thank you for the illusion enchantment." removing his hat to make the bow more formal. At least a little. Nothing said formal like giant twitchy cat ears.

"Maybe someday I'll figure out how to force the board to play certain games..." Belvast mused, poking at the smooth face that had returned, the pieces back within the stomach of Mobius.

"It's a wonderful little gadget. If Galbar had more stuff like this we would surely have less destruction and more fun." Ilunabar bowed back to the little demi-god. "Take care of yourself out there. I will call you next time I need someone to taste my dishes."

Belvast nodded and opted to excuse himself at that, opening an azure portal and stepping through. He had a nap to get back to. Nestling beneath the same tree, Belvast yawned before sighing, realizing he should have asked for a recipe for that pie. He'd ask next time...maybe.

"By Fate and Amul'Sharar, what have I gotten myself into..." Ull'Yang sighed but smiled. Obviously, the blessing had somehow also altered parts of her soul along with her body, hence the sudden change in personality - from shy and timid to playful and outgoing. He didn't mind, though. He needed someone like her beside him to converse with and lighten his days, since he couldn't frequently meet with his siblings.

Luna, a name the little grey wolf had given itself after the transformation, perked her ears at his words. In the time span of one breath, she had skillfully climbed up Ull'Yang's arm, jumped on his head and rested on his golden snout, looking straight into his eyes. "Fate? Amul'Sharar? Who might they be?" She slightly tilted her head sideways and asked him.

He focused on her whilst remaining silent, thinking about how he was to go about explaining it to her. He himself didn't know much about the two powerful beings that brought the gods to this Universe, and he doubted his other siblings had more information on the matter. "Albeit, Vowzra might know a thing or two that we don't have knowledge of, now that I think about it..."

"Well, let's just call them- Huh?" Ull'Yang suddenly turned silent, his eyes changing colour, from a calm blue to a fiery red.

"Call them what? Hello? HEY!" Luna waved her arms around in front of his left eye, not understanding what had gotten over him so suddenly. Then, she turned stiff when she saw his eyes changing colours and realised something must have happened.

"What happened? What are you doing? Hey, don't ignore me all of a sudden," Luna said as she hopped around on top of his snout, trying to garner his attention. "I am not ignoring you," Ull'Yang suddenly broke his previous silence and said. "I just got a strange feeling all of a sudden... nothing to fret about," he ended up explaining.

"Huh... Okay then," Luna shrugged. If he wasn't willing to tell her then she wasn't going to make a fuss about it as well. Trust had to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time. Not even she, much less a god like Ull'Yang, was willing to blindly trust someone she had just met.

"Do you want to see the rest of the plane?" A sudden voice echoed inside her head. It took some time for Luna to process the meaning of his words but after a few seconds of just sitting there with a blank look on her face, her eyes flared up in excitement. "W-w-wait, you mean this isn't all? There's more land out there?" Luna nervously asked.

"Hah! If you really think that this little piece of land is all," Ull'Yang proudly said as an arrogant look appeared on his face. "Then you're gravely mistaken, young grasshopper," Ull'Yang whispered the last of his words. Luna felt an external power cover her, strands of Ull'Yang's divine essence had coiled around her to form a protective barrier. Before she had even processed the question she'd wanted to ask, Ull'Yang suddenly took off, flying straight upwards towards the massive clouds in unprecedented speeds.

"Kyaaaaaaa~" Luna practically screamed her lungs out as Ull'Yang spun around himself, accelerated, decelerated and generally flew all over the place while at the same time not slowing down one bit. "Hahahaha," he let out a laugh that echoed through the skies.

Luna's sanity was hanging by a thread, so much so that she had started to hallucinate. Images of past memories started appearing before her eyes as friends and family members urged her to join them in the afterlife. "STOP! STOP! STOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!" She mentally shouted at Ull'Yang. She didn't know why she had agreed to follow such a mischievous god! Not even a day had passed since they first met and he was already giving her the fright of her life!

"Heh, if you say so," Ull'Yang heard her and smiled. "Hang on for a moment more!" The stellar god's serpentine body accelerated some more as he flew to the ceiling of the plane. As he pierced the clouds, he rotated once before coming to a sudden stop. The sheer power of the rotation blew away the clouds that had been previously covering the central continent.

When Luna came to, she had to rub her eyes not once, not twice but three times before she turned back to Ull'Yang with a confused look on her face. "Don't tell me that the rest of the plane is made of water? Everywhere I look: east, west, north or south, there's water everywhere!" Luna said.

Ull'Yang smiled, "that's because you don't look far enough. Let me help you a bit," he replied and linked his eyes with Luna's, enabling her to see what he saw. Luna was taken aback by the sudden surge of information her brain received from her eyes, enough to send a feeble mind such as hers into overload. Fortunately, Ull'Yang was behind her, supporting her with his essence so she felt nothing but a sting.

After a couple of minutes of trying to get accustomed with her new eyesight, Luna's brain finally started registering clear images again and the first thing she saw was herself. She became stunned at the sight of her new form. Although she had taken an extensive look at her body after she had transformed, she had yet to have an overall look of herself. "Mhmm, not bad, not bad..." she secretly thought as she posed for herself. She was lost in thought when she realised she was not only posing for herself but for Ull'Yang as well. He face reddened in embarrassment as she controlled her body to turn away from Ull'Yang's gaze.

Ull'Yang himself silently enjoyed her little show and when it came to an end, he chuckled at her embarrassment and decided to tease her a little. "So if you're done with your little dance show, there was a reason that I linked my eyesight with yours."

Ull'Yang looked ahead and slowly turned his head clockwise, letting Luna take a clear look at each continent's location before moving to the next one. Needless to say, with each passing continent that revealed itself in front of Luna, her own eyes shone even more brightly with excitement. By the time Ull'Yang head returned to its former position, she had completely forgotten his previous comments. "Where do you want to go first?" He simply asked. "Who cares?! Anywhere and Everywhere!" Luna frantically shouted.

"Very well. Our little tour of Cygnea is about to begin! Ahahaha~" Ull'Yang continued laughing as he randomly picked and started flying towards one of the four continents.

No great amount of Time had passed since he had set off. He had counted one thousand steps, and two hundred after that, and twenty after those, and then five…and then four. When he arrived, he found the old crone. He had known she would be there. He had known for endless eons, since aforetime. And perhaps even before that. The witless woman had, with her own hands and the greatest foolishness, brought together their threads and laced them in enmity. She had stolen what was his due right, and Fate had willed that she taste the fruit of her theft. And here she now was, labouring and gagging ‘neath the weight of Fate’s curse – the curse she had gleefully seized with her two hands, the curse she had embraced and brought into herself. The Great Criterion, the Scroll of the Beginning, the Dictator of the End, the Codex of Creation, the Blueprint of the Universe, the Book of Death, the Tyrant, the Liberator. It went by many names, but all knew it for what it was. All had a vague idea of what they perceived it to be. And all knew that it was best to perceive of it no more than that.

All, that is, except her.

For one so intelligent, there could have been no greater fool. She had opened it and peeked within, and she had realised the depths of her ignorance. What could have been more devastating, for a being such as her, than to come to such a revelation? Such epiphanies were dangerous things indeed, and there were some things best left unknown – even for those who claimed that they - or wished that they - knew all, or had a monopoly over knowledge. She had thought all knowledge her prerogative. Such heights of pride. And such as he saw before him was the great fall which cometh swiftly thereafter.

‘But what does it mean? It makes no sense…no no…what if….yes! Yes…well, maybe...it could be. But this line! This line! It makes no sense, why is it there? It looks like I can see it, yes! It all comes together so per- but then this line! Again and again this line! Damned line! Cursed thing! What is it? What could it mean…’ even as he stood so close by her, all her mind and wit were fixated upon the great book which lay open upon the ground before her. She was hunched over it and looked even more the ugly, ignorant crone for it. If there was one thing he could come to an understanding with the Jvanic Entity on, it was that both he and it held this creature with almost equal disdain. But his disdain for this Witless One was even greater. For she had robbed him – she had attacked him personally. He had nothing against the Jvanic Entity, she had not insulted him or attacked his person or taken what was his Fated right (no, that Defiled Flesh merely offended every conceivable sensibility that he had, and was unnatural no matter how one twisted and reinterpreted the possible Timelines).

‘Maybe…maybe this line isn’t related to this part. What if…ah! Yes…maybe. Maybe it is read after this great curved- no! In conjunction with this other…’ she screeched in exasperation and angrily slammed the book shut, ‘stupid book! Useless! Dumb! What is it what is it what isit whatisitwhatisit…’ her head snapped upwards and she slowly turned towards her not-so-secret observer.
‘How long have you bee-’
‘Long enough.’
‘What do you wa-’
‘Nothing. Nothing that you can give.’
‘How did you-’
‘And did you think you could hide from me?’
There was silence for the slightest second. She opened her mouth, but he answered her question before she could utter a single syllable.
‘Even if I could read it, what makes you think I would help you?’
‘Why would-’
‘I not? Is that a question that one with intelligence as vast as yours asks?’

She looked around herself, eyes wide with fear and anxiety. A maddened god was truly a tremendous sight. He had, of course, seen it many times before, a thousand times in a thousand different Timelines. But there was nothing quite like seeing it in person. No vision, however vibrant – no glass ball, no screen, no oral or written description – could ever quite capture the solid reality of being stood there before her. And nothing would ever be quite so exquisite as delivering his damning verdict to her in his own person (though, admittedly, he found nothing ‘exquisite’ – his expansive breast had no space for emotion…if he could help it).
‘You have lost your mind.’

By the Terrible Adjudicator! The look in her eyes, her slack-jawed shock, the horror that pervaded the very air around her. Now, he was not by any means a vengeful being, but there was some truth in that adage which mortals and immortals alike held – revenge is sweet. Of course, true as the wisdom was, he was not a vengeful being and, indeed, he was not taking any kind of revenge. On the contrary, he was carrying out the Will of the Timeline, when the Timeline dictated, in the way it dictated, for the reasons it dictated. He was merely that Will made manifest, the hand which seized those whom the Timeline decreed. He was, after all, the very Vicegerent of Fate, was he not?

And why should he not admit it? His duties did bring him a certain degree of joy – if you understood ‘joy’ in a very – very – particular manner.
‘You are maddened. You are cursed. You have lost your mind. Utterly.’

He did not know what, exactly, the sound that left her buccal orifice was. It was halfway moan, with something of a screech therein – and was that the deep grunting of a brush beast somewhere in there? But as it were it mattered very little. The Codex rose up slowly, and she let loose shrieks of rage and threw herself at him when she realised what he was doing.
'You shan't! You shan't take it! Not my...not my...' she fell at his feet, tears streaming down her face as he looked frigidly at her.

'Be calm, this shan't take overlong,' as the Codex of Creation hovered before him, he began turning its leaves. He saw the pages, but his eyes did not register any writing. Indeed, he did not wish to register any of it, or know what was within it. He had been maddened by the Hells once long ago, he knew the objects that infused beings such as he with madness. And this here Book was one such thing.
At last he arrived at the Fated page, and his fingers rubbed the edge of the paper where Vulamera had once torn the Codex.
'And for thine trespasses shalt thou be punished. And none wronged thee, but thou didst thine own self oppress.'

With that, the Codex turned in mid air until its pages faced the tearful Vulamera. One would have expected it to shine and vibrate. Perhaps one would have thought it would glow, or maybe sing or shriek. Maybe one would have thought that the book would grow wings, or maybe dance a morbid dance. Perhaps one expected it to morph into an almighty, demonic jaw and engulf the trespasser. Maybe one even expected it to speak with the voice of Niciel and let the maddened goddess know that for her sins she was forgiven, and of her madness she would soon be cured. Perhaps one though the Liberator would become a Comforter in the final moments of the diseased and decrepit woman.
But none of that occurred. There was no pomp and ceremony. Vulamera did not even scream. One moment she was a maddened woman, and the next she was gone. And her essence, with a calmness that did the gravity of the moment no great justice, slipped into the tear in the Codex and sealed it. And so the Codex was once more complete and whole. She had without thought torn it, and she had not realised that the little tear was worth more than even her godly essence. But despite that, it would do. And the book's pages turned one by one. And it closed and fell upon the earth.

Vowzra took it with his two human hands, and he walked away from the site of Vulamera's trial, guilt, and punishment. Had they they thought that they would not one day be called to account for all they did? Woe is yours, oh Vowzra, and Woe there's.

And he took it till he reached the Solitary Mount, and he climbed that king of hills. And he hailed the Guardian.
'And ne'er more shall I,' he whispered cryptically as he passed through the portal to Chronos. And once there, he made his way to the Cube and split it open, and the Codex was placed upon the alter which had been awaiting it for countless eons. And the Cube was sealed, and Vowzra knew it would be but a little while before Codex and Cube were forever parted. But would the Codex be the Codex, and would the Cube be the Cube?

Nay, it would be a killer of gods, for soon there will be no one left who would strive to cure.

'For Fate dictates and wills. And what am I to dictate and will otherwise? All that begins must end; and be ye ever so high, greater then the fall.'

Does the fool play his riddling role so well that even he is deceived?

Did the Void Wanderer listen, and realise that he was not silent?

Jvan didn't much care. The world was beyond reason. Vowzra was beyond reason. The only one left to accept the nails of sin for the sake of others was her.

The unmistakable sound of meddling echoed into the listening-horns of Ovaedis, drowning out the whispers of Galbar's scant thousand Sculptors. It haunted the fractured spaces, split and reformed, the noise itself coming undone in transit, but Jvan no longer saw riddles when she gazed upon the Gap. Its ways were known. Its paths could be mapped. That sound could be triangulated.

With mechanical ears Jvan traced back the echoes, as she had once traced the universe for the echoes of Arcon. For the first time, she could pinpoint the drone of Perfectus where it had been crudely stowed, listening for the undisguised sound of motion. The sound of breaching. Rising into a foreign sky, colliding with its own reflection, and disappearing, for the second time in its troubled history, into a pool of bent space.

As yet, nothing.

Then they tore their way into the world like a rain of caltrops.

Billions of particles of interdimensional flotsam forced into the world that had not been theirs for aeons. The artefacts punctured Galbar's skin and flimsily plugged the wounds they had created, a thin barrier to hold back the blood of the Other. Too thin. Fragile.

A precarious mockery of the creation she had wrought from the far places.

No anger, no hate in Jvan. Only a splay of lines and colours deep inside her whirring core. She had tasted of the cup of hate and drunk it dry. Now there was only regret, and swelling responsibility. The time for recovery was ending, and the time for action was coming. And Jvan was coming for Time itself.

Soon.

Divine sound pulsed over Galbar, and Jvan recognised the scream of birth. This one, it seemed, had come with particular violence. Predictable enough. The Other did not withhold its beauty for the likes of realspace, and the new demigod had been forced to adapt fast.

Would they emerge to be as blessedly peculiar as the rest, as Lifprasil and Amartia? Of course they would. Even the unsafe artwork is art nonetheless.

But the Other was unsafe indeed, and the Riddler was reckless. Time would tell if this erratic scrawl of creation was worth what it destroyed.

Except, of course, He wouldn't. Vowzra would sit in silence, watching the results of his interference, never making any coherent sense of his own actions. No one answered his riddles. No one could. They had no solution. They were dead ends. Like he was.

Like Perfectus had come to, and where it should have stayed until a worthier hand had drawn it out.

From the great portal of Ovaedis streaked a thin wisp of carmine fog, which did not dissipate in Galbar's atmosphere. Instead it nestled in the Caliginous Mangrove, mingling, for a little moment, in with the cloud forest's own veil.

It told Heartworm all it needed to know.

Old Skinstitch was lost to Jvan, she knew. It hid itself well, and their divine link was, until the Engineer found cause enough to repair it, cut. Ultimately, their isolation mattered little. The bonds went deep. Neither needed to hear the other to know what each would say. Neither needed to speak. They were, after all, one and the same.

The Riddler is hiding something beyond the Error. He has carved himself a den in which he lurks with his prize. There is a path between them. A frail barrier through which the Other may yet escape.

Open two ways. Whirlpool atop the Mount.

To leave such a flaw to rust and crack only weakens it. I will not let the Riddler creep in the dark places forever. It must be sealed, or still more harm may be done.

Reckless.

I must take responsibility for the protection of my family. None other will.

Retaliation will come. Stand to lose all that has been created.

I will not leave my work undefended. They must have a guardian.

You force my hand.

It was true. Heartworm, fragile as it was, would come if Lex was threatened. It would come late, and prioritise its own safety, but it would come nonetheless. The All-Beauty knew itself well enough. Knew its own unreliability. Heartworm was a weak contingency to depend on. In the future, better defences would be required for Jvan's expanding portfolio of samples and sculptures.

Shelter. Mobility. Armament.

Yes, a bulwark would be built with which to protect the Engineer's delicate mortal projects. An Ark.



Ovaedis. Blood-tinted darkness. Churning eldritch tendons. Hot air. Spitting bubbles of liquid. A stream of brilliant, uninterrupted energy from the Core. Jvan at work.

One? No, I think more. One is too much of a risk. Two, then. Any more and their power will be too far diluted. It would take them too long to grow. Still not enough, not entirely secure. A mating pair? Yes, so be it.

They will be different, of course. Diversity in all things. The entropites can take care of the offspring once they mature. Motherhood is in their veins. And the Arks will take care of them. They'll be able to hold so much, in the end. They can take the change eaters down to commence the counter-genocide. They can carry things up, into orbit. Maybe even Urtelem.

Or other mortals. Explorers. Colonists. A whole settlement, why stop at that? An army. They can be flagships for an empire of the stars. Lifprasil would love that. Oh! Two Arks. Of course. And offspring, besides. Enough to share.

Yes. Lifprasil would like that very much.





From the great portal of the Divine Engineer's manufactory, two bodies emerged into the dark.

They were wound around one another, a slender form and a sinewy one. The thin entity entwined her brother in intimate embrace, and the four arms of the robust being caressed the loops of his sister with effortless delicacy. Neither resembled the other in the slightest degree, and yet they were twins, born on the same day from the same womb. Each one stared into the eyes of their sibling, and saw that they had no need to be the same. For they were lovers, a union ordained long before their birth, and they knew one another's very soul. They were as lock and key.

Between the stones of Lex, where the noctus fronds drifted thick, the change eaters watched them.

The male was grey, lit white from within. His face was wise and solemn, and his eyes were those of a prayerful judge, a guardian-priest. The chambers of his body beat with no heart, only glowed with a soft, patient authority. His hands were the hands that uplifted, that gave comfort, and brought peace to the violent.

The female was brown, and streaked with hot metal sparks where her upper and lower sides met. Her smile promised speed, and her eyes denied relent. The fins of her body flicked in anticipation for the frenetic crowd she would lead. Her tail whipped, as if to chide the slow and hesitant into joining the sprint with whatever they had. She was the voice of passion, the shout that held back nothing.

Three winged tails of colour surged to meet them, the only children of Diaphane who had survived long enough to reach Lex. As they flew to meet the newcomers, they could hear the voice of the monolith, the impossibly huge structure floating in the Ring. The source of all life. Big Grandma.

"She is the Mother Suprema," spoke Jvan's voice from Ovaedis. In absence of air, the words carried on radiation. "He is the Father Dominus."

The sisters tittered to hear such names as they flew loops around the colossal Mother, who hissed with pleasure in a voice of hot metal, and curved around them in turn. Father Dominus laughed in his low hum, not saddened to be left alone.

No, the sisters had had no need of names until the third one had joined them, and a nomer was needed beyond 'you' and 'me'. All three had chosen to be called Diaphane, though they knew not from where that name had come. And so they had taken simple identities. The first was Diaphane Stellar, who had never known a blue sky. The middle sister was Diaphane Wander, who had flown a reckless journey into orbit. The last was Diaphane Whisper, who was quiet, and had been forced from Galbar by evil spirits. Soon, Stellar's eggs would hatch, and her children would take names of their own.

A hushed tone of awe soon overtook the change eaters. "What are you?" came the voice of Wander.

"Mother and Father are still very young. Soon they will grow, and then they will be your protectors. They can carry you onto Galbar, and return you when it is unsafe."

At this, Ovaedis had the attention of its audience. None of the change eaters had ever seen a living thing so large, even among the longest of nocti or the largest imagen-whale they had ever brought down. The Father alone was more than fifty metres tall, bigger than the biggest Rocks. Mother Suprema stretched longer than double that. To think that they might actually grow...

"How big?" piped Stellar. "How long until we eat Galbar?"

"Huge. Ten times their grandeur now at very least. But," and that word came sharply, for the sisters were flapping wildly in excitement, and even Whisper seemed eager. "While they are young, you must take care of them both. Clean them and they will carry you. Guard them and they will guide you. Whisper to them and they will teach you."

"Yes, but answer our question, Grandma," whispered Whisper, impatience foiling her quiet air. "When can we eat Galbar?"

"When you're ready."

And though the Diaphanes pleaded, Jvan said no more.



"Hey!"

A full turning of the Lex shadow cycle later, Wander came to Stellar as she guided seven children around the lilting currents of planktonic gaia. "Come!"

Stellar hesitated, but Whisper, who nursed her own clutch of eggs, knew what that word meant.

Together the growing sisterhood clambered under the upper-shell of Mother Suprema. Curiously, an even, hollow space had grown in her, perhaps to serve that exact purpose. With a flick of her tail and speed unimaginable, ten hunters of Lex were ferried into the place where the space glowed blue and was thick with juice, and viscous blue fluid rippled below. Together they explored one little, quiet corner beneath the Fractal Ocean, where water was liquid, and life tasted sweeter than anything to be found in Lex.

And when Father Dominus bade them come, they whined and complained, but come they did. Galbar was dangerous, Whisper had taught them. They were young and few. And, of course, they trusted Father. They trusted Mother even more. They had come to love their wordless guidance, and come to love their caretakers. Something had been given to them, that repaired a piece of their hearts they had not even known was broken.

Never again would the Diaphanes be orphans.

Moon: 343
Palo hefted his spear and, with tremendous force, struck at the savage denier-of-the-faith. Beside him, one of his faithful Palowids fell with a spear stuck in his throat. The powerful Chief-Warrior was not fazed by the sight, but it increased him in fury at the deniers.
'We have not the power to vanquish them this day, Chief-Warrior, let us away!' Palo growled in discontent at the cowardice of those who called themselves his warriors.
'We stand, fools! Victory over these deniers must be ours, it is that or death!'
'Great Palo, see reason and let us away! Our fall here would bring all the faithful dismay, 'tis better we run from the field today and return with greater arms and strength another day,' the savage deniers were now slowly encircling their position, and if Palo did not make a swift decision he would soon find both fighting and retreating impossible.

'Go, and my curses with you. Never shall Palo turn his back to the Patriarch's foe!' and saying that the Chief-Warrior raised his spear again and charged at the deniers. Behind him the few Palowids who had been ambushed alongside him turned and made a swift getaway, leaving the crazed Chief-Warrior and their one dead comrade to the mercy of the Moon-Mother.

And they did go. But when they arrived and informed the Patriarch of what had occurred, his wrath was mighty indeed. And greater still was the fury of Orif. For he and Palo were of two sisters born, he of Beru and Orif of Cala. And not only that, but they came not too long after the other into the world, and coming together then, they had remained together ever. When they became men, they had done so together, and their father had given them his blessings together.

But they were not merely brothers and the closest of friends. The Patriarch had called them both one day and sat them before the fire, and he had given each of them a sharped stone and commanded that each of them cut the other's palm. They had pleaded with their father, asking he tell them why.
'Why! You ask me why?' he had snapped at them, 'do not ask me why! Do as I command, and I shall tell you why when the time for you to know has come. Now do it.'
And they had. And the Patriarch had taken of their blood and mixed it, and he had commanded they rub it on to one another face and arms and hands and to remain like that from sunset till sunrise.

When they returned to him at sunrise, the blood having dried and begun to flake, he washed them both and had them dress in new furs, and he brought them before all the others and declared them ever bonded to each other, even death would not separate them, for their souls had become entwined and their minds had become as one, and their hearts beat with a single heartbeat.
'You two are as the wings of the bird. Together you fly, and should one of you fail so does the other. So stick close by one another and let nothing ever stand between you or separate you,' the Patriarch had told them afterwards. And even closer did they become as a result.

So none were surprised when Orif - with his usual calm - gathered all his warriors and set out to save his brother or take vengeance on his killers. For a week Orif camped in a forested valley not far from the enemy camp, having his warriors scout the area and see if there were any observable patterns in the way the enemies went about their days. It appeared that their main party of warriors set out regularly to hunt, leaving but a small number of warriors behind at the camp.

And so Orif and his warriors descended upon the enemy camp with a great vengeance. Their warriors were slaughtered without mercy, and had it not been for Orif's deep comprehension of his father's will, he would have slaughtered and burned everyone in the settlement from the youngest child to the elderly who hung at the gates of death. After a quick search of the camp, a bruised and hurt Palo was found tied to a pole in the camp's centre.

Orif came to him and sat by him for long. Every now and again one of them would touch the other's face, or stroke the other's hair, and even though Palo was visible angry, never did he turn it against Orif. At last Orif stood and helped the injured Palo to his feet.
'I shall send you back to the Patriarch, and you shall rest until you are healed of your wounds. I and the rest of my warriors shall hunt down the deniers and bring them to the Patriarch's justice,' Palo shook his head firmly in the negative.
'I shan't be going anywhere. Bring me my war dress, Orif, bring me my spear. I shall march out with you, I shall plant the seeds of fear in their hearts, and the flowers of death shall bloom.'

Orif smiled and nodded. There would be no argument here, no pleadings and rejections and attempts to persuade. Orif knew Palo as he knew himself, and no more words needed saying than had been said. And so the Orifids prowled forth, Orif and Palo at the helm. When they came upon their enemy it was some distance from the camp in a great open grassland dotted with some trees, and giving way to hills in the distance. The Orifids gave off their furious roars and beat their fur-clad feet against the ground.

Orif raised his spear to the heavens and Palo raised his voice into a great shout.
'What are we?'
'Death!'
'Who are we?'
'Death!'
'Let those decrepit whelps hear your names! Let it be the last they hear!'
'Death! Death! Death!'

'Orifids!' came Orif's own voice, 'let them have it!'
With that, the war party sprang forward towards the hated foe. Never before had two parties of warriors clashed like this in the open. Ambushes and traps were their ways, for they hunted each other as they hunted the beast of the wild. But this was no time for ambushes and traps. This was a time for vengeance. And vengeance they had.



Moon: 346
'Save us! Woe! Woe! Save us, oh blessed one!' the hysterical screaming was accompanied by frantic footsteps, and Eskandar had not emerged from his tent before a crowd of men and woman had gathered before it. The frinji women among them were on their knees, beating their heads and knees and the ground, and layering their hair with earth and dust.
'Oh save us!' they were wailing. Eskandar brought himself up to his full height and commanded them to be quiet.
'What lunacy has entered you? What spirit has driven your wits away? Stop screaming, you faithless ones, and let me hear from one who yet has some reason,' at this, an Orifid whom Eskandar quickly recognised as his young son Verik stepped forth and spoke.

'Great Patriarch, we are a luckless people. The curse of the Moon-Mother, despite your great blessings, has fallen upon us and our certain doom crawls towards us upon six legs this very moment,' Eskandar frowned and anger shone clear in his eyes.
'Mend your words, knave! Your doom crawls not towards you upon six legs, it soon flies towards you at the tip of a spear!' Verik looked shaken by Eskandar's anger and looked at those behind him, who were standing in distressed silence.
'Step back Verik, I shall speak to the Patriarch, for your foolish words endanger your life and the make questionable the sanity of us who have seen what we have seen,' another of Eskandar's sons, Po, stepped forward.

'Father, some warriors - Verik and I among them - were travelling far off in the Big-Trees, near the Moon-Mother's River, when one of us happened upon a creature most terrifying and savage. It looked much like an ant, but it was like no ant we had ever before seen. By the Moon-Mother!- this thing was larger than even you, father! And the colour of its shell was in constant flux, as though a thousand furious spirits warred within. There was no doubt in my mind that the creature perceived us all, but we backed away and made our escape, and came right back here that we may let all know of this approaching catastrophe. What shall we do, father?' silence reigned at this revelation, and Eskandar stood for a while staring into the heavens. His silence did not help the ever-growing crowd to calm down, and their agitation and terror grew by the minute.

'You faithless ones!' he roared at last, 'what has entered your breasts that you think this a thing beyond the power of the Moon-Mother? Am I not her blessed and chosen Patriarch? Have I not told you and told you again, that so long as I am with you her blessing will rain upon you and never cease? Calm yourselves, strengthen your weak and severely lacking faith. Bring me my Warrior-Chiefs,' with that, he sat down by his fire and waited on Bato, Palo and Orif. He scratched at his beard slowly as he thought on this turn of events. Certainly the Moon-Mother had not brought the beast their way but to test the faith of her subjects, and the unwavering belief of his own heart. Did these foolish people think that, simply due to him being amongst them, that they would not be tested? That fear would not be sent forth in droves upon them, and that the furies of the Moon-Mother would not be seen agalloping on the wide horizons towards them? They were indeed of little wit and of little faith if they thought thus!

'Father?' he looked up to find Elia standing before him. He smiled and signalled for his beloved eldest daughter to come sit beside him. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed the side of her head, and she rested her head on his shoulder before speaking.
'What is this talk that is going round the camp? They speak of the Earthen Beast, the Mud-Ant. Is it true that it comes our way?' Eskandar grunted in annoyance.
'And what if it is coming?' his voice barely concealed the simmering fury within him, 'they are all of weak faith! They have no trust in me and they have no trust in the Moon-Mother! Weaklings and cowards the lot of them!'
'Not all of us, my Patriarch,' she raised her head and looked at him, 'I care not for this Mud-Ant. The Moon-Mother will deliver us from its evil and bring us to safety even if it so happened that we lay defenceless between the beast's mandibles. We have you father, and with you the Moon-Mother. That is enough for me,' Eskandar could not help but chuckle and rub her head affectionately.
'Not you Elia, never you. I have no doubts about the strength of your faith. Of my children, there are rocks and stones and pebbles. You Elia are a mountain. Were all others to slip and stray, you would still defiant stand,' he leant in and kissed her forehead, and he looked into her eyes with a tinge of sadness, 'woe to you, little Elia, you are struck down by a people in deepest darkness stray.'

For what felt like the longest time father and daughter sat staring at each other, she with shock and he with a growing melancholy.
'Father...what do you mea-'
But footsteps caused her to stop abruptly and they both looked up to find that the Warrior-Chiefs had arrived. He patted Elia on the shoulder and she swiftly stood. With one last questioning glance to her Patriarch, she moved away. With Elia gone, Eskandar looked upon his three War-Chiefs and gave his orders.

'The Earthen Beast this way comes. Gather your warriors and track it down. Do not engage it, but keep it under constant watch. If a confrontation occurs, withdraw immediately and notify me. If it continues to head towards our camp, send for me,' he looked at Bato, 'Bato, you shall be the lead Warrior-Chief on this occasion. Your word is final, your command my own,' Bato and Orif bowed in respect, and Palo nodded in acceptance.

'Do not tarry. And do not be sad and do not fear, and you are the victors by the Moon-Mother's will. Her blessings follow you so long as you follow my commands,' and with a wave of his hand, Eskandar dismissed his sons. He released a deep breath, placing his elbow on his thigh and his cheek upon a closed fist.

When they returned the following day, missing some two men, they found him in a similar position. The beast, they informed him, had surprised them, and it had taken of their brothers two and disappeared. Eskandar was silent, even as he rose and left the camp, none dared approach him and none dared question him on what to do, or wail and scream in fear.

He found the ant the Big-Trees, and with utter faith in the Moon-Mother walked towards it.
'And so you have come,' it said. But it did not speak. At least, not in a sound he ever thought he could decipher. But his response was cool.
'That I have.'
'And do you know why you have come?'
'Because it is the will of the Moon-Mother.'
'And how do you know this?'
'Those were the words of the wooden man in my dream. I have not known him to lie.'
'No, that he does not,' it said, 'and you know what he commands?'
Eskandar nodded.
'And do you obey?'
'I obey none but the Moon-Mother.'
'And you doubt my own obedience to her?'
Eskandar paused for a few moments before slowly shaking his head.
'He said you will give me the strength to establish the Law.'
'And that I will. Let us to your village, upon my spine shall I carry you.'

And so Eskandar returned upon the beast, and the shock and fear of the people were great. But he stood upon the Earthen Beast and summoned the people to him. And they came.

'We have shown you the greatest of our miracles, that you may know that the Moon-Mother is true, and that I am true, and that her blessings and mercy are true. And we have brought to you that which you mistook for foe, and you have, with the mercy of the Moon-Mother, perceived some of the truth on this matter which has haunted you long. And look there, they whom you thought victims of the Earth Beast, see how they return to you that joy may be in your hearts, and that you may be content, and that you may show gratitude. So listen here and hear me well, for I have come to you and have been as the Living Law among you. And it is decreed that all things must end, and the Living may die, but the Law is eternal. Hear this, for it is the Law and you must establish it where it is not, and you must adore it and you must respect it ever. You shall worship none other than she who is Truth. The Moon-Mother is your god, your blesser, and the only one worthy of worship, so obey her ever,' the Earth Beast almost knocked him off at this stage as it suddenly moved. Yes, that was not what he was meant to say, but he knew the truth and would not hide it, and the Earth Beast would not harm him or disobey.

'So worship not any but her. And to they who birthed you be good and do good, and to those who are of your blood, and to those who have lost they who birthed them, and to those who find themselves impoverished and weak. Be good and do good to them all that you may prosper, and woe to they who do not. And let nothing but good leave your mouths, and speak well of others that they may speak well of you. And let not your tongues be turned in harshness upon each other lest your hands quickly follow. And do not shed each other's blood, and do not dislodge one another from your homes and cause each other to stray in the land; and they are indeed big if you but knew. And say: "we have heard and we are, by the will of the Moon-Mother, of those who obey".'



Moon: 351
But within their hearts were planted the seeds of disobedience, and they were of those who disobeyed. They met inside the tents where they thought the Patriarch could not hear, and they whispered and plotted.
'How! How can he bring that beast here? That beast which destroyed all we had?'
'Is it my own father who returned with that thing? By the Moon-Mother, 'tis but a trick of the beast. We must do something ab-'
'Kill it! Kill him!'
'What, but the Patria-'
'You heard him, that isn't the Patriarch, it's a trick from the beast!'
'But what if-'
'Have you not seen how he has been these past moons? He is not the Patriarch!'
'Yes, it is true. He came to my tent not more than five nights ago, and he was gibbering nonsense to me about "the things hiding in the night", why he has gone insane! Or he has befriended creatures of the darkness and fallen prey to the madness they instil within their victims!'
'But the Moon-Mother would protect him, would she not?'
'He has abandoned the Moon-Mother by his pact with the beast, and the Moon-Mother is not one to bless those who ally with her enemies.'
'The Law though, we must not spill each other's blo-'
'Poppycock!'
'Claptrap!'
'Balderdash!'
'Moonshine, by golly!'
'Utter baloney!'
'Hogwash! Hogwash you hear? All this dribble about "you who birthed them" and "they who have not they who birthed them", by the Moon-Mother, what twaddle!'
'Yea yea yeeaah,' at this point everyone gathered in the intent looked quizzically at the culprit of the strange sound. In another world, it seemed that this particular tribal had been a member of the British parliament, but none of them knew that and so did not spare him from their looks of disgust and shock.

And for long did they plot and scheme, but they realised not that she whom the Moon-Mother blessed was a greater plotter and a greater schemer than they could ever hope to be. For he had for long known that they were of little faith. Among those whom they had thought to trust were those with loyalty to the Patriarch in their hearts. And they had come to him and declared openly their innocence and who the guilty, faithless ones are.
'I know,' he had assured them, 'and in due time will I seize them.'
And seize them he did, and they came before him in rope.

'Untie them,' the Patriarch commanded coldly. He approached one of the conspirators, none other than his son Hezric.
'Why?' he asked. Hezric looked away, unable to hold his father's gaze.
'Did I not care for you when you were nothing but a babe, and carried you from all danger? Have I not brought you close to my bosom? Have I not honoured you as I have honoured all my sons? Have I not elevated you, and are you not of my warriors? Have I not showered you with my blessings, and given you life-mates and tents that you may live in prosperity? So why?' there was no response, and the Patriarch's calm shattered.
'Answer me!' he roared.
'Because- because I want more than prosperity. You did not ask for prosperity when you set out and forged a tribe for yourself! My brothers did not ask for prosperity when the were elevated above all other warriors! So why should I be content with this idle prosperity? And I have come to you again and again asking that you give me some of the reins of power, but you have never listened.'

The Patriarch clenched his teeth and turned away from his misguided son.
'You unhappy wretch. You have torn apart my heart. Why by the Moon-Mother! you have shattered my heart so that it can never again come together. Did you not know that I was yet saving you for the days yet to come? But you have chosen nothing other than to be hasty, and have made your death law upon me.'

Hezric looked up in shock.
'You...you kill me?' at this, the Patriarch turned and nodded coldly.
'This is the basis. Or what were you planning, you treacherous boy?'
'You...you kill your son? You kill Hezric?'
'Treachery has no faith, or gender, or ties of blood. And it has but one punishment.'
'I am your son, oh Father, oh Patriarch. Do you not remember the Law you laid down and the blood whose spilling you forbade?'
'Why did you not remember that? You did not betray me except that you betrayed the Law! Why I am innocent of all you have done, my blood run not through your veins! I declare myself innocent of you and with my own hands would kill you were it not too great on shattered heart!'

Hezric looked around him in horror before getting on his knees and clutching his father legs.
'Mercy, Father! Mercy! I beseech you, by the Moon-Mother, kill me not! The dark spirits led me astray!' he reached for this father hand and tried to kiss it, but Eskandar raised his hand and looked away from the criminal.
'The dark ones lead not astray other than those who stray.'
'Mercy, Father. The Moon-Mother accepts repentance.'
'In that case, repent to the Moon-Mother before your death. And I shall pray to her that she forgive you. Perhaps she will, when all are brought forth before her, bring you forth before her differently from the way you leave us,' he turned to some of his warriors, 'take him.'

They seized him and led him away.
'Bato! Orif!' he shouted, 'intercede on my behalf! Oh, brothers!' but the Chief-Warriors were sombre and silent.
'Mother! Zekra! Oh merciful, oh you of the kind heart! Mother!' but his mother wept and put her head in her palms, for she could not bear to see what occurred before her.
'Mother! I don't want to die! Mother!' and his shouts continued even as he was led away from the camp to be punished. All stood in shock and fear, and none dared look upon the Patriarch as he crumbled to the ground and covered his eyes with a hand.

'And you,' he at least gestured to the other conspirators, 'you also wished after what is not yours?'
'Patriarch,' Tymis spoke, one of the life-mates of Elia, 'we but wished for vengeance against the beast which destroyed our tribe. You have brought it to us and allied with it, we cannot accept tha-'
'Be quiet you treacherous cretin! You question me? You question the Moon-Mother's wisdom?!'
'What wisdom! You are nothing but a madman! The dark spirits have consumed your mind! You will die! You will die!'
'Take this apostate, this viper away! Away I say! Take them all and give them their comeuppance!' the roared in fear and fury, their tongues screamed obscenities and heretic words.
'TEAR THEIR TONGUES OUT!' the Patriarch roared in rage, 'GOUGE THEIR UNGRATEFUL EYES!' and he turned away in trembling frenzy and disappeared into his tent.



Moon: 370
‘Where is Bato?’ he asked. Silence was the only reply.
‘Where is Bato?’ he growled, and Meli responded.

‘He…he went out to the prairie to…to hunt. He said he will hunt the great-furred-two-horn,’ she whimpered as Eskandar swept past her, his eyes flashing with a cold fury.
Leaving the tent, he gripped his long-dormant spear and made for the prairie-lands of the great-furred-big-horns. It was not truly fury that filled him, however, though his eyes flared with inconceivable anger. It was a great sadness, that filled him, it was a mighty misery. For it had come to this. He had given his command, and his command had been flouted. It had reached the raising of the spear, and once Eskandar raised his spear, he did not put it down until it was red with the blood of those whose blood had become permissible – indeed, obligatory - to him.
‘O! Son of mine,’ he lamented as he strode forth to reprimand his firstborn, ‘O! Foolish, foolish son of mine.’

When he crested the hill and looked upon the valley of the great-furred-big-horns, his perceptive eyes did not immediately spot his wayward son. The winds blew through his long, ruffled bark-brown hair, and his reddish beard was gently stroked by the wind, and he turned his head in the direction it blew. And he spotted the one whose blood had become obligatory. Tightening his grip on his spear, the Patriarch stalked forward. There was no hint of emotion on his face, and his eyes were the widened eyes of a hunter on the prowl. A slow, deep growling sound emerged from his chest, and his son perked up upon hearing it, and fear filled his eyes when he saw his father growling and stalking towards him, his intent all too clear.

‘Father, please-’ but he was cut off by Eskandar releasing a mighty roar and launching himself at the transgressor. The one who had defied him and his words. Had he not declared these two moons holy? Had he not commanded they not hunt in them? The boy managed to scamper out of the way, but Eskandar turned upon him almost immediately, spear raised. Yet Bato did not raise his spear, his eyes were pleading and his shoulders slumped.

‘Father, please don’t, I onl-’ but the time for words was long passed. The spear had been raised, and Eskandar was not one to lower it before it had been wetted. He swept forward, his hand snaking out and gripping Bato’s throat before pushing him down onto the ground and standing over him.

‘Your blood for your crime, no son of mine are you,’ the Patriarch’s voice came colder than steel, and its iciness broke Bato’s soul before the spear-point pierced his heart and stole his budding life. He drove it deep, looking into the dying boy’s eyes as his life slowly faded and was gone.

Without pause, he wrenched the spear out and placed his hand upon the weeping wound, lacing his hands in the blood before spreading it over his hands up to his elbows. He repeated the action and rubbed the blood onto his face and chest. With his small ritual done, he picked the boy up and began the trek back to the camp.



Moon: 370
Standing before them, and with the dead body of Bato before them all, the bloodied Patriarch gripped his spear and, with a mighty thrust, buried it in the ground before him.

‘You my sons, and you my daughters, and you my life-mates and bearers of these here children. Listen and understand and heed these words, for I shan’t repeat them, and weighty shall be the price for those who do not. I have travelled long with you, I have protected you from the wild beasts and from men, and the cruelties which abound on the flowing waters and the solid earth, and the cruelties which fly above us. I have fed you always and have paid with blood and sweat that you may all grow before my eyes; strong, safe, united. I am your father and the Patriarch, my Word is a Law unto you, and I am the Law personified. Those who hear must obey, and those who obey are good sons and good daughters and good life-mates and good frinjis. If ye be good, then come forth and kiss the hand of your Patriarch, and let obedience to me be as inherent in you as is my flesh and blood, as are the hardships I have endured for you to grow and as is the tiredness of my never-sleeping eyes that guarded and do still guard you. And if ye be bad then come forth and take up your spear, for it is best that you die rather than continue living; it is I who brought you into this world, and it is I who will remove you from it for your rebellion and wayward ways. Come forth you good children and you good life-mates and you good frinjis, and pledge your eternal obedience to your Patriarch.’

With those words, Eskandar waited upon his flock to do as he commanded. The first to step forth was Zekra, the first of his wives. Ever loyal was she, even though it was her firstborn son…his firstborn son also, who lay dead on the ground. With silent tears trailing down her face, she came forth and took his right hand and planted a kiss upon it.



‘Oh killer of my flesh and blood: you are my flesh and blood and beating heart, your words have always been Law to me, and you have always been my benign and merciful master and protector. If ever I should disobey you, then I would strike my wayward heart before your blessed hand struck me; before my tainted blood could dirty you,’ she raised her head and the still-wet blood of Bato, which had been on Eskandar’s hand, now stained her lips.

‘Your pledge has been taken and you shall be held to it,’ was his cold response. Much as her words moved him, there was a time for being moved and a time for standing stronger than a rock. In that moment, he was not Eskandar her life-mate, he was Eskandar her Patriarch, her Master, her Law. And though he had killed of her children many, ever-loyal was she.

Next came Seri, a steely determination in her eyes. She took his hand in her own and planted a firm kiss on its back, and then placed her cheek upon it.



‘My Life-Mate, my Patriarch, Blessed of the Moon-Mother, Bringer of Wisdom, Speaker of the Law. You have but to command me and I shall obey,’ and she kept her cheek upon his palm until he gently raised her head up and looked into her eyes. Though there was determination and vigour within them, he could also see that Bato’s fate had filled her with a deep sadness – for he had been a son to her also.
‘Your pledge has been taken and you shall be held to it,’ came his icy reply.

Tse, his third life-mate, stepped forward. There was clear fear in her eyes, for she hated the sight of blood and did not like killing. She had told him again and again, when he lay with her, that she loved the great capacity for mercy and forgiveness in him, and feared, greatly disliked his anger and vengeance. He had strived, for her sake, to keep said anger and vengeance out of her sight, but he could not always do so – much though he regretted causing her distress.



‘You have ever cherished us all, and ever loved us,’ she said with tears running down her face, slowly getting on her knees before him and holding his hand to her chest, ‘and it is my hope, oh ever-merciful, oft-forgiving Master and Patriarch, that your mercy will always rule over your punishment,’ he raised her to her feet and hugged her to him, wiping her tears away with her furs – so as to keep his bloodied hands from her face.

‘Your pledge has been taken, tender Tse, and your words have been planted in my heart,’ he planted a soft kiss on her cheek and released her. Seri stepped forward and helped the devastated woman away to her tent, where all could grieve for the loss and rejoice for the beauty of justice-done.

The sisters Beru and Cala were next, and just as he had united with them together, they now came to him together. Beru, the elder of the two and wisest of his life-mates spoke first.



‘Oh, beloved Patriarch, you have torn our hearts and crushed us with this act of yours. Our tears of misery cannot be shed, for if we did the earth would flood forever and a day. And so we must withhold,’ she stepped forward and took his hand in hers, and pressed its palm to her cheek, ‘there are none of us who lack absolute loyalty to you, absolute love, absolute esteem, unconditional, without limits or boundaries. And none could have loved and adored you more than your first-born, for he worshipped you as though you were a god – and you may well be,’ she pressed the back of his hand to her lips, 'oh wisest of men, forgive my tongue for it does stray: you have done a most foolish, most saddening thing this day,’ and with that, she turned away and went to join his other life-mates in the tent. She gave him no chance to respond, but she knew – as Eskandar knew – that there was nothing he could say. For she was right.

With Beru gone, Cala raised her lowered head and looked timidly towards Eskandar. She slowly stepped forward and planted a soft kiss on the back of his hand before raising her head – but her eyes remained lowered.



‘Your pain is felt by us all, glorious adjudicator. You are the epitome of fairness and justice: neither blood nor love protects the wayward from you. You were a giant in our sight before this day, and with its coming you have become colossal. Our love grows for you, our admiration and adoration, our loyalty and our eagerness to do as you command,’ with her words done, she stood still until bloodied hand raised her chin and her eyes met his. A small shiver ran through her at looking directly at a being closer to divinity than he was to man, and she could not help but press herself ever so slightly towards him, for want of nearness.

‘Your words are as rain drops on my burnt and weeping heart, fairest Cala. Your pledge has been taken and you shall be held to it,’ and with that, he released her and she backed away ever so slowly, her eyes lowered once more.

Then was Anja, powerful of build, soft of eye. Her eyes betrayed little emotion, however – soft eyes, tender, yet no particular emotion was hinted at through them. Her smile was small, unhappy, but her eyes were far off. It was as though she did not see what was immediately before her, but what lay far off in mountains only she could see and under skies only she could witness.



‘A day of your days, mighty Patriarch,’ she said simply before taking his hand in both of hers and planting a kiss on its back, ‘you shall find me ever loyal, ever willing that you grow ever greater and more mighty, more beloved to this here heart,’ she looked up at him, her far off eyes staring into those of her life-mate.

‘I shall ever test your loyalty, my Anja,’ he said before letting her go. And she too made her way towards the tent.
Last of his life-mates to step forward was Kae. Ever-smiling Kae, who brought laughter to his heart and eyes. Her face was grim and tears were rolling down her face as she came.



‘Oh Eskandar,’ she whispered as she placed her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder, ‘what have you done?’ and in that moment, he felt like a child who stood before his own mother, with no words to say for what he had done. The silence stretched out between them, and she did not let go of him.

‘Kae…’ he whispered, and she slowly pushed herself away from him and looked him in the eyes, her lips pressed tightly to one another. Such disappointment was there on her face as he could never have imagined would hurt him. Yet the look on his life-mate’s face hurt him deeply, hurt layered upon the hurt already within his heart.

‘Look at me not with those eyes,’ he moaned, unable to keep eye contact. She nodded slowly and backed away from him before she turned away and went to the mourning tent also. He watched her go, and a weight settled upon his shoulders and within his chest which he knew would never depart. And he felt himself age some hundred moons in that instant as the last of his life-mates walked away.

Then came his children, one by one, from the eldest to the youngest. Bato had been the eldest, but he was dead. So the first to come forth was Bato’s sister, Elia. She came forth and wordlessly kissed the back of his hand. Wordlessly she turned away, and wordlessly she walked from him. Then came Gar, son of Seri; Meli, daughter of Zekra; Sheb, son of Tse; Zeri, daughter of Seri; Sarin, daughter of Zekra; Caz, son of Tse; Tora, daughter of Seri; Hezric, son of Zekra was dead and so did not come; Palo, son of Beru; Orif, son of Cala; Derk, son of Tse; Reyk, son of Seri; Jarl, son of Anja; Wezar, son of Zekra; Rana, daughter of Kae; Verik, son of Beru; Meru, daughter of Cala; Buz, son of Tse; Mit, son of Anja; Po, son of Zekra; Lopa, daughter of Seri; Indi, daughter of Kae; Eril, daughter of Beru; Lez, daughter of Cala; Aya, daughter of Tse; Aril, daughter of Anja; Fen, daughter of Zekra; Yog, son of Seri; Bish, son of Beru; Vetri, son of Kae; Zana, daughter of Cala; Ana, daughter of Tse; Lida, daughter of Zekra; Yara, daughter of Seri; Walo, son of Beru; Zind, son of Anja; Klup, son of Kae; Raga, son of Cala; Banto, son of Tse; Sirta, daughter of Zekra; Thol, son of Seri; and Naka daughter of Beru. The other twenty-eight were yet young and had not proven themselves to be mature men and women.

Eskandar barely noticed the various husbands and wives of his children who came next, or the numerous grandchildren, many of them children of Bato. His mind was far off, weeping by a faraway star along with his heart and scarred soul. But when Maki came, carrying her daughter from Bato, he could take it no longer and turned away. What had he done? What would come of Maki, and would come of little Ely?

The Patriarch remained in his tent for many weeks, and he never emerged the man he was before.



Moon: 450
His eyes flashed, and before anyone could gather what was happening, the Patriarch had struck his grandson a mighty blow across the face. The sound alone stung the ear, and the boy flew a good few steps to the side from its strength.

‘You snivelling rat of a child! You dare utter a word against she who birthed you? You dare disobey he who raised you? And you challenge the one before whom your own father cowers in respect? You have strayed most grievously, and I will be the one to straighten what is skewed. Bring this upstart and gather the clan. By my honour and position among you, I will make an example of him yet!’

Two of Rak’s brothers were immediately upon him, and dragged him out after their grandfather, while a third went shrieking round the tents and fires and caves, calling the tribe to gather.

As the Patriarch passed by his own fire, he picked up his spear, which had been buried in the ground next to it. Seeing this, Rak’s mother, Meli, began to shriek in despair, and her shrieking did not stop even when all the tribe was stood in the Ring around their Patriarch, with the wayward grandson at his feet, held down by two of his own brothers.

‘I bring before you this upstart who seeks to usurp the rights of his betters, who disobeys those who have raised him and cared for him, who has forgotten the debt he owes, his very life, to his parents and his tribe and his Patriarch. His tongue has grown long and his hubris has become ugly and bloated – for his great height has deceived him, and his muscles have fooled him, and his power with a spear has blinded him, and he has become greatly deluded by the admiration he has received from us. Know this, oh you whom my blood runs through, oh Eskandars, a mother is to her child what I am to any one of you. Your father is to you what I am to you. The word of your sire, and the word of the one who bore you within her body, is Law upon you on matters whereon I am silent. And should they command you to do that which I have proscribed, then respect them and bend the knee before them and bring the matter to me, your lord, your Law and your Patriarch,’ and with that, he turned upon the boy who lay on the ground, whose eyes were wide with fear and face contorted in pain and sorrow. He would have spoken, but he dared not say a thing for he had been not been permitted.

‘Turn him onto his stomach,’ the Patriarch commanded. The two brothers looked up at their grandfather in puzzlement – was it not easier to strike him with the spear if he was on his back? – but they did as commanded. Eskandar raised the spear high, gripping it so close to the tip that the edge of his hand touched the stone. Before he could bring it down, however, his daughter’s shrieking started again and she was suddenly at his feet.

‘My master, my Patriarch, my sire, my protector and sustainer and cherisher, my great chief and chief of us all gathered here, we whom you have called Eskandars; I beg you, I beg you to have mercy. Your words have all been true, for your words are Law and your Law is Just and your Justice is Truth itself, but I beg you to have mercy, I beg that your mercy over-ride your absolute justice, for your mercy is greater than your justice. And were you to hold us all to account for how much we all stray from what you command, then we should have all received your just punishment. But ever has your mercy protected us from your rightful, just wrath,’ she kissed his naked feet and pressed her cheeks to them and repeated her implorations again and again. Eskandar’s eyes remained cold as he spoke.

‘Rejoice! For my mercy is ever greater than my wrath!’ and with that, he brought the spear down upon the offending boy. Her shrieks filled the skies for a few seconds before they died away completely. For Eskandar had not struck the boy a killing blow, but had instead struck him upon the buttock with the other end of the spear. He raised the rod and brought it down once more, and Rak cried out in pain. So long did he beat the impudent boy that the skin was flayed and blood spurted out. At last, however, he stopped.

‘Age has caught up with me and my arm pains me,’ he said to one of the boys holding him down, ‘take the spear and continue beating him until you tire, then let your other brother do likewise. Only then will his punishment be complete, though I think that such is too great a leniency from me,’ and with that, he handed over the spear and walked away to his tent where he sat and rubbed his hurting shoulder.

'Though the mind be ever-young, Time is a cruel mistress and grinds everyone.'

As he sat in the tent, the newest of his life-mates, Bet, entered the tent.
'My Patriarch, are you well?' she asked softly. He nodded.
'Just my shoulders and arms. Not as young as I once was,' he chuckled. She smiled and nodded.
'Here, lie down and let me rub your back,' Eskandar nodded and lay on his stomach on the furs, and Bet began rubbing his pained back. Before long he began drifting off and was sleeping soundly.

With him asleep, Bet sat up and looked down at the man. He had savaged her tribe and captured her, and he had forced himself upon her. And he expected loyalty? Perhaps he truly had gotten too old.

From that sleep, the mighty Patriarch never awoke.

---

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I think it's about time I left Xerxes. Too limiting here. I continue to feel more like a slave than a partner to Amartia. It's time I struck out on my own. Spent the day harvesting enough fruit to last a journey. Packed seeds to grow more. Might have to deal without the fruit until the seeds grow in wherever I go. The mountains might be nice, find a small valley. Strike out on my own there. Work on my machinations away from those who see me as naught but an asset or puppet.

I'll be leaving without telling Amartia, Less of a fight that way. I'll vanish into the night. Will cover up my trail just in case. Considering essential supplies. Have to assume my body requires mortal needs, so I must pack enough waterskins to keep me going until I find a river along my journey. Fruits should keep me awake, so there's no need for a shelter. Should I run out of fruit, I'll create a lean-to or some other form of shelter to rest in. Mountains may prove difficult to climb, may have to search for a mountain pass. Collapse it afterwards to avoid being followed.

From there I'll figure it out as I go. Will bring some various items of note with me that I might need for experiments. Will have to get in contact with Teknall for my machines. Can provide the blueprints, but not construct them.

I bid you farewell, Xerxes.

---

---

Whispering the arcane words to lock the journal box, he slung it around his shoulder and hefted his pack. It was mostly fruit, but a number of waterskins hung off of it as well. In a satchel was some light experimental supplies. It was a shame he couldn't take the entire temple with him. He filled the room with divine energy, just in case Amartia got suspicious and went looking. Searching the temple would take time, and that would buy him what he needed to escape quietly. Next, his plan was to conceal his trail with all the power he could muster. This was important. Not being followed was an essential goal.

Then, in the dead of night, he set out. He kept quiet, sneaking about and avoiding any light. Should a witness sight him, they very well could tell Amartia. He wanted to get out of there with as little fuss as possible, and that meant not leaving a trail for another to follow. He'd harvest a few more trees for their fruit to avoid picking into his packed fruit to begin with, and then he would avoid the various villages of the countryside. With that, he set off westwards.

He strained himself, minimizing every last scrap of his trail. This meant going slowly, taking every precaution, down to avoiding footprints, and not rushing the cover-up of his divine energies. This would be a long journey, but it would be possible that he could speed up after he was out of the immediate vicinity. At least his arcane abilities assisted heavily in eliminating his tracks. And so on he marched, walking intently westwards. By the time daylight came, hopefully he would be well clear of Xerxes. It was too limiting a place. Not one he wanted to return to.

He could also hope that any of the various gods would not tell Amartia where he was going. That much was something he could only leave to fate. Something that was entirely unacceptable. He would need to focus on the detection device. Hopefully Vestec would keep his promise on assisting with that. Sure, a lack of one made life exciting, but he wasn't here to be excited. He was here because as a mortal he pursued power, and as a demigod he would continue to pursue power. But he wouldn't bend a knee to another person. He would sooner die than become a slave to another person. A reason he was leaving Xerxes.

His footsteps flattened the grass, and he had to continue whispering the words required to remove the flattening, restoring the grass to its former glory. The same with mud, and with sand. Leaving footprints was a beginner's mistake. He could've doubled over, but it was simply easier to use his inherent powers. So much easier than being a mortal, that much was sure. He imagined it would've been doubly so as a god. Only more reason to strive towards the next step.

He felt no regrets. It was time to set out on his own. To build his own laboratory. He needn't rely on another demigod for what he could do himself. Lest he become lazy, or dependent. Others, he felt, should've followed his beck and call. Not the other way around. Every journey began with a single step. He had taken that step, but another had tried to keep him in place. It was time to continue, one foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

Repeat.

Repeat.

He knew he would be doing this a long time. It was a necessity. He could speed up later, once he was out of the immediate danger zone. A valley, certainly, he thought. Making up his mind, he became hard set on going westwards. A valley would be hard to locate, sure, but that went both ways. A fertile one especially. He might need to bring in subjects. They wouldn't be able to live in a barren valley, nor would he be able to grow his fruit trees in said valley. It would take some time to find a good valley, but fortunately he packed. And especially fortunately he had strength and endurance that an average person would not have.

And so he marched on.