Makaizael did not move at once, instead contemplating upon how he would select the first imps to receive his tutelage. Gremju had seemed inclined to let them divide themselves into groups of their own making, but after several hours there were still those that drifted or lazed about, either spurned and rejected from the groups, or individualistic and unwilling to join others, or just lacking in motivation to socialize with the others or move about. It was ironically the last group that Makai began to see the most promise in; the most slothful of the imps were more content with peace and therefore less disposed to violence and chaos, and perhaps they would see and be quick to understand the benefits that civilization could afford to those that turned away from a nomadic way of life.

Most of them seemed relieved when the strange Watcher approached them and did the work of assembling a clan for them, but for those that were not glad to be spared the work, he swayed with promises of wealth, prosperity, and gifts of power that far surpassed the Speech that he had already bestowed upon them. If only they would follow him, and listen.

It seemed a small enough price to pay, so after a few hours he had assembled his group of thirty imps. It was larger than the small gangs of a dozen or so that had arisen naturally, but Makai saw no need to drive off some of his imps. Thirty was number enough to form a village and create a rudimentary civilization that could then grow; it was just right, for a community with too many more would have proven difficult to control.

While the other imps already began to bicker and make plans, many intending to strike out and leave the Plains of Madness and explore the world with eagerness, Makaizael addressed his chosen.

"You will know by now that I have taken you under my charge to teach the ways of order and civilization. It goes against your nature, I know, but I bid you to make the effort and reap the rewards. Your wayward brethren will wander free and act upon impulse and instinct; they will have harder lives, and likely shorter ones too. But you can see them and know that yours is the right path, and know that you go on with the blessings of not only Gremju but also Promus and Makaizael, and then all doubt shall be banished. So come, my friends, for there is much work before us."

They followed Makai a long ways, to where the Plains of Madness began to give way to the open lands beyond, and there they came across a few squat trees that had already started to sparsely cover the mountains. Several complained along the journal, for after all these were many of the most slothful imps, but Makai's silvered tongue urged them onward with vivid promises of all the luxury and relaxation that would come later.

"A demonstration," he called out to the imps, and then with one strange word he told the closest of the trees to fall. It did so with all the gentle grace that such a violent action could show, and then Makai taugh them how to craft crude tools from flintstones, plant fibers, and sticks. With their primitive axes they began to cut the limbs free from the fallen's tree's trunk, and then a few teams under Makai's careful watch managed to fell other trees using their brawn and their tools rather than any sort of magical speech. When it was done, they were left with the daunting task of transporting this lumber back to Gremju's glade within the middle of the Plains of Madness. In teams they began to roll the logs and push them back, for they were far too heavy to carry and yet were round enough that there was no need given that the landscape was mostly flat.

Makai pushed one of the logs along by himself, and he also aided the imps' going here and there with his own magic as well. He kept such assistance subtle and hidden, though, for he did not want them to grow accustomed to such help and rightfully saw in the arduous task a way of bringing the tribe closer together.

When they at last found themselves where they had started, but with some reasonable supply of lumber now, the other bands of imps had already dispersed. Though their enthusiasm waned with lack of immediate reward for their work, Makai offered them ample time to rest, and then he taught them the ways of construction. They built homes for themselves in the forms of small huts and shanties that had walls of earth braced by wood, with roofs made from leafy branches woven together. Though the village was truly no more than a cluster of dirt-floored hovels, it was something. Whilst their nomadic kindred no doubt slept beneath trees or hid in caves or were otherwise exposed to the cold and the elements, these imps that yearned for civilization had some semblance of shelter and they now had a taste of what their enigmatic leader had promised to them.

Almost as an afterthought, Makai then thought to have them make an offering to Gremju. Perhaps it would placate the 'demon' for some time, and even if not, it would teach these imps a valuable lesson in piety. There remained one tree trunk thicker than the others. It was the one that Makai had pushed, for none of the imps had sufficient strength or willpower, and it furthermore had a girth so great and bark so thick that it had resisted all attempts at being chopped into pieces of a more practical and useful size. But that was of no matter, for Makai now envisioned a different purpose for that log to serve.

With great effort, he directed the imps as they began to move it from the outskirts of Gremju's glade closer to the middle. Amidst the crystal trees, they toiled to slowly lift the trunk and bring it upright, and then they placed it within a hole that been prepared for the purpose of keeping the log vertical once more. They buried the lowermost part, piling the dirt at the great log's base until the mound was large enough to hold the totem pole steady. And it was then that Gremju decided to gift his imps with chaos magic.

They immediately took a liking to it, and despite Makai's objections they experimented with it in the village and (in some cases) upon one another. The project abandoned for the time, there was mayhem. None were seemed to have been seriously hurt, but in one instance an imp lost hold over the power that he had conjured and it had set a house ablaze, and in another case the chaos magic had the unintended consequence of permanently giving its user a hue so bright that his skin was like the first bands of sunrise upon the sky.

In an attempt to restore some semblance of order and hopefully amuse Gremju--who was surely laughing by then--Makaizael bid them gather once more by their totem pole and work small bits of their magic upon it to make whatever chaotic and nonsensical marks that they pleased, in the name of worshiping and honoring their maker. Promus would not have been pleased at having been made to suffer such a wild form of 'worship', and this ordeal only confirmed to Makai that his imps still had a long ways to go. Perhaps in due time he would direct them in the construction of a proper temple and instruct them in prayer, but in the meantime chaos reigned.

The Challenger watched Makai worked from a distance and he was truly amused. He had been observing the Guardian of Civilization's work from a distance and erupted into a fit of laughter when the imps began casting their new magic. Eventually he fell out of the tree and remained there, laying on his back for a moment giggling. With a flash of magic Gremju disappeared and re-appeared next to Makai. "Looks like they're having fun with my newest gift," the imp-father said with a cackle.

"They do it to to honor you," the Watcher responded with restrained breath as one of the imps seared exaggerated phallic symbols onto the totem that was meant to be a shrine to Gremju. Another lobbed a bolt of chaos magic at the totem but missed entirely, so with some concentration Makai willed the earth to rise up and suffocate the resulting flames.

_{Time: The Present}

It had been a long while since Aella had departed, leaving Larwen alone under The Pale One. He leaned up against the grey bark of the tree, his long legs resting comfortably in the tall grass, while his arms likewise rested on either side of him. His mind was wrapped up in thoughts, mostly about Aella and the excitement that she brought him, such feelings were once truly alien to him but the Goddess of Kindness had opened his heart a little. Still, Larwen was finding himself amiss in reality with a strong sense of longing. The tender warmth of the tree soothed him little, for it paled in comparison to Aella's own. The tree's whispers were kind, as was intended, but they had little effect on one who helped create such beauty. Such kindness was not meant for him, for Larwen only wanted her, the one who's kindness was genuine.

Still, the God of Perfection lounged under the tree, for it was the closest reminder that he had of Aella. She accepted him for what he was, for who he was, and he could not deny the attraction he felt towards her. There were few greater joys than that. Yet Aella had not left him alone without more to contemplate. For she had gifted to him an Oasis near the Anathema's, a bastion in the desert she had also created. In time he would inhabit this bastion with his creations and children, but not now. This desert would also prove to be an obstacle for his long term goals, but Larwen had not wished to spoil the moment by telling her such a thing, she had only meant to protect him and besides, there were other pressing matters to deal with.

The war between his forces, and those of his siblings who so needlessly brought their own creations to his doorstep, was Larwen's top focus. Lasis would pay, but so far her insect men had done nothing, and their so called rebellion, it had been the least of his concerns. Seihdhara's Unsullied and Sullied Fae however, were a different story entirely. Larwen did not like Seihdara, and her creations only proved his assertion. The Fae did not see his gift as a blessing like their Perfected Cousins did, they had fought with sticks and stones against the Zalsarix, a futile gesture to creatures as mighty and fearsome as they. Their maiming only irritated Larwen, but the true loss of several Zalsarix at the hands of unseen opponents, heightened his irritation to unease and coupled with Regulus' mist, meant his children were unsafe.

The Zalsarix were precious, and unable to procreate, meaning the lives they lost could not be replenished. He had pulled them back to Pervanon upon the same day he loosed the Perfected Fae into the world. In the meantime, the Perfected Fae fought doubly hard to secure their home from their less inclined cousins. They were creatures of dust, and they could be returned to dust, or Perfected in the Forge of Purity, this he knew. As Larwen still sat against the tree, he hoped the war would be swift and over soon. With a victory for his forces and one that would finally bring him closer to securing the Anathema's from his foes.


_{Time: Takes place at least SEVEN MONTHS after the Day the Gods Came}

But it is written in truth that matters rarely occur as one wishes or plans, and the Unsullied had a stubborn will to survive and thrive and be that was just as relentless as their mother's. It was as though in their very existence and resistance was the shadow of Seihdhara's primordial proclamation to Larwen - 'I will not flee. I am the enduring fire that will sear your corruption from every heart and plain, the sheltering flame against your unwanted perversions. Be afraid, boyo.'
Yet it had not been Seihdhara's direct intention, when she created the Sullied and the Unsullied, that they fight Larwen at all. Larwen had been the last thing on her mind then; but it seemed the very nature of Seihdhara's fae had brought them into conflict with the perfectionist god. And when the goddess descended and saw the plight of her creations, she had not declared herself their saviour and messiah - as the Lord and Lady of the Unsullied Court at the Anathema Heights had so hoped - but had instead deigned to gift them with the skill to fight off their oppressor before rushing away to find her 'Dwyni'.

The clash of different forces one against the other was only normal and to be expected. From such clashes emerged heroes and brave deeds, from such clashes mortals and immortals alike came to know what ought to be valued and cherished and fought for, and what ought to be shunned and repudiated and repelled. The Sullied and Unsullied would fight Larwen's forces, and the victors would emerge bettered and refined and would be made glorious in the eyes of Seihdhara - and most importantly, they would be free. The forces that would restrict the essential freedom of all things could win battles, could even establish an ephemeral order that would seemingly last eternally; but nothing could for too long hold at bay the will for freedom, the dams and shackles of oppression and enslavement were ultimately destined for breakage.

The goddess tore through the sky, searing the earth with her eagle gaze in her search for her Dwynen, until her gaze fell upon two figures down below. One of them had stunning red hair! And so the goddess descended quickly to see who it could possibly be -an admirer of hers, perhaps? The other figure, Seihdhara quickly realized, was none other than Brentylwith, Seihdhos in his hand and a host of some ten Unsullied behind him. The red-haired one had a most familiar aura, but looked like no one Seihdhara knew. Brentylwith opened his mouth to greet his creator, but the shout of the other over-rode him completely.
'Mother!' cried the pale, red-haired humanoid. Seihdhara looked at her more closely and frowned, for this carapaced warrior-woman had hair as red and thick as her own, and yet Seihdhara did not remember creating or mothering her. 'Mother, it's me,' the pale woman stepped towards Seihdhara, sheathing the sword she had been holding extended towards the Unsullied King.

'I am mother to many things. Are you a fae of some kind? Where are your wings?'
'No, I am no faery. It's me, Newygnong. I have become beautiful - like you.' The pale one smiled and Seihdhara's eyes widened and she approached the former-millipede, stroking her face admiringly.
'Wow, Newy! You've really changed. How in the world did you do that?' Newygnong beamed at Seihdhara's clear display of approval for her new form.
'Do you love me now? Will you be my mother?' Seihdhara cocked her head in confusion.
'What in the world do you mean, Newy? I've always loved you - but your mammeh is Kiko, not me.' Newygnong's face fell and she frowned.
'B- but... I ...' she paused, 'why can't you be my mother? When I was hungry you... and when I was ugly I looked to... and when my mind was frail you... why can't you be my mother?' Seihdhara pursed her lips and considered Newygnong, stroking her hair gently. Before the goddess could respond, however, Brentylwith spoke.
'Mighty Flame-haired goddess. Do you know this one?' Newygnong looked to Brentylwith and placed her hand upon her sword pommel guardedly. Seihdhara turned to the Unsullied King and nodded.
'Yes, she is mine,' Newygnong's eyes widened at the strange phrasing and then she flushed and began mumbling unintelligibly. Brentylwith raised an eyebrow.
'I have drawn my sword, Flame-haired one, and I refuse to sheathe it before the blood of the one who forced me do so wets it.' Seihdhara shook her head at these words.
'Now that's a bit extreme I'd say. Whatever's got you two at each other's necks?' It was Newygnong who responded.
'We crossed paths and, instead of ignoring me and going on his little way like any normal person, he choose to accost me and demand I identify myself. I did not at all like the way he addressed me and naturally refused to do anything he asked of me. Then he began swinging that sword of his about and, well, here we are.' Brentylwith scoffed at the carapaced woman's words.
'For all I knew you were an enemy, it is only natural that I would stop and question you. If you truly meant no ill, you would have had the common courtesy of complying and making clear that you are no foe.'
'Had you not made your hostility so abundantly clear, I would have given you no reason to think me a foe,' Newygnong retorted with a scowl. Seihdhara chuckled at their childish spat.

'Alright alright, I get it. Stop bickering will you, you're like a married couple already,' the two glanced at the goddess in confusion, manifestly ignorant of what this "married couple" was, but Seihdhara continued without pause, 'there's no need to kill over a silly misunderstanding like this. Here, to settle this issue - since you both clearly need to get all the excitement out of your system -, you can duel until one or the other surrenders.' Newygnong and Brentylwith continued to look in confusion towards the goddess, and she hurriedly explained. 'You fight one another, but not to the death. When one of you emerges as the clear victor, by disarming the other or drawing first blood, the duel is done. Simple right?' Newygnong and Brentylwith eyed one another carefully for a few moments, and then Newygnong nodded in understanding and was followed by the Unsullied King. 'Oh, and stay inside this ring. If one of you steps or is forced out of it, they lose.' Even as the goddess spoke, a large ring with a diameter of ten metres was marked on the ground around them in glowing orange.

The King and his carapaced opponent began circling each other, Newygnong slowly drawing Purity. Seihdhara immediately knew it to be of her son's making - such was the motherly instinct - and wondered what Telum Dei had been up to since he rushed off into the world. As Seihdhara watched, Brentylwith took a single step forward before suddenly leaping forth at immense speed, swinging Seihdhos downwards in a mighty slash. The lithe Newygnong saw him, however, and sidestepped quite easily with an equally swift yet strikingly graceful movement and made to strike her opponent. But the very earth where Seihdhos landed erupted in a mighty cacophony and broke away, leaving a large crater and forcing the pale Newygnong to leap away from the area of damage. She frowned and gave the Unsullied King's sword a strange look, as if reassessing how to go about this.

But it quickly became clear that Brentylwith had no intention of giving her much time to think, for he leapt at her once more, this time powerfully swinging his sword in a horizontal arc. Rather than dodge once more, however, Newygnong brought Purity up and, bracing herself, met the King's strike head-on. The two terrifyingly powerful blades crashed resoundingly one upon the other... an ear-piercing screech sounded even before the blades touched, and at the very moment of contact (the swords touched only for a split-second) both Brentylwith and Newygnong were violently blown away like mere ragdolls. The entire duelling ring was rent asunder, dust and earth exploded into the air, and the two duellists landed some hundred metres apart (Brentylwith crashing into a number of his warriors and taking them with him).

Through the dust and falling debris came the slow sound of clapping, and the burning hair of the Flame-haired goddess shone bright even through the thick dust. And when the dust settled, the goddess was gone. Brentylwith floated to his feet and looked through the haze - for the close had left the ground and very air searingly hot - to where his opponent had been. The red-haired warrior woman flew through and landed some distance from him. Brentylwith raised a hand and sheathed his sword.
'Peace, Newygnong,' he said, 'our duel is ended. You are clearly blessed by the gods.' Newygnong did not smile, but nodded and sheathed Purity.
'And it would appear that you are likewise blessed. Did Telum Dei craft your sword also?' Brentylwith frowned and shook his head.
'No, this is Seihdhos Sword of Victory, the First Warsword. It was crafted by the Flame-haired goddess.' Newygnong raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked to Seihdhos was sudden interest. 'Who is this Telum Dei that you make mention of? I take it she crafted your sword.'
'Telum Dei is my brother. He is the son of the Flame-haired goddess. And yes, he gifted me with Purity. Purity is not merely a sword - it is a living, speaking sword. But I have yet to hear it speak.' Brentylwith approached Newygnong and inspected her more carefully. Her lithe and graceful movements during their fight had surprised him and made him very suddenly aware of her femininity. Her pale face looked like it had been chiselled of snow, her black lips small yet full, and seemingly ever-pursed in a disapproving straight line.
'Are you certain you are not a faery?' Brentylwith asked, hovering so that he was face-level with her as he continued inspecting her features.
'No, I am certifiably not a faery. Until very recently, I was a giant bug actually.' Brentylwith grimaced and backed away somewhat.
'Ah, I see. Well. You have a done a rather good job on yourself. Why, you are as pretty as any one of the Unsullied Queens.' Newygnong blinked in surprise at the sudden compliment and attempted to mutter a thank you, but Brentylwith continued, 'and you are mighty in the fray, so much is clear. Newygnong the fiery-haired warrioress, daughter of the Flame-haired goddess, wielder of Purity the Livingsword, will you not forever honour me by joining me in the defence my people?'

Newygnong considered the Unsullied King for a few moments. 'Is it Larwen that is attacking you?' Brentylwith frowned, clearly having no knowledge of this Larwen.
'We fight the Morig - hideous beings that kidnap our people and take them into the heart of the mountain.' And Brentylwith gestured towards Pervanon, where Newygnong knew Larwen had his lair. She nodded in understanding.
'Then it must be Larwen. Your request is granted, Brentylwith the King, for your foe and my foe is one.' The Unsullied King beamed at her words and, approaching her swiftly, placed a hand upon her nose.
'You speak so seriously. Are you made of stone?' Newygnong pursed her lips more tightly and moved her face away from the little man, 'and yet your very frowns are fairer far than smiles of other maidens are!' Newygnong batted him away quickly, her pale cheeks reddening ever so slightly.
'Are- are you- what are you even- faeries don't even-' realising that she was jabbering, she quickly closed her mouth and huffed. 'Are you stupid?' Brenylwith the King only laughed, and his followers giggled and chuckled also.
'Come with me, deadly beauty, for there is a war to be won!' The King declared as he leapt high into the air and dashed away, followed by his entourage. Newygnong watched him go for a few moments before gently - if uncertainly - lifting off from the ground and leaping after him.


_{Time: Takes place at least EIGHT MONTHS after the Day the Gods Came}

As quickly as the Zalsarix had come for the Fae, they swiftly and deliberately vanished over night, back to Pervanon at their master's bidding. It would be the very same day that Larwen would unleash the Perfected Fae upon the fragile world of the Unsullied. It was also the day that Larwen would go and confront Regulus about the debilitating fog, only to be attacked quite needlessly. All these events transpired in tandem with one after another, ramping up the battles between foes to untold heights. Larwen would be greatly absent from viewing the battles taking place, his mind was elsewhere and his body preoccupied with the dealings of his siblings and Aella. The God of Perfection had great faith in his children however, with their magical abilities and lust for power. They could only prove themselves to him by winning the war and inflicting great casualties upon the Unsullied.

Larwen had the uttermost confidence in them, but his domain was not War. He knew not the subtleties of battle, the honing of the mind and blade, the adrenaline during combat, no, Larwen knew how to infect the hearts and minds of those he touched. How to weave them to suit him and Perfect them in his own way. The Perfected Fae were but a horde of cruelty and sadism, hating everything not like them and fighting recklessly without abandon. Their strategy would be of overwhelming power, hoping to beat back their cousins with sheer force of abilities and numbers. And so the Great Fae War had began.



All had been quiet that day of days. With the Zalsarix gone, and no more Fae being taken, an eerie sense of quiet had washed over the Anathema's like a dense rain. As if drowning the world in a heavy thickness of apprehension. The very tension in the air could be cut by a sword, and still remain. The pale sun was swallowed by clouds as the day progressed, and obscured further by Regulus' lingering fog that wafted through the untouched lands of the Unsullied. The Unsullied themselves would still be at an advantage in the fog, for its mystical properties darkened the vision of what Regulus deemed 'corrupted.' To be at such an advantage was paramount, but did the Fae even know what it could do?

And through that fog came Brentylwith and his airborne force of five-thousand, and through that fog came Newygnong leading the way forth on land, another five-thousand at her back, with Purity severing the tension before her. And they left the Unsullied forest and its protective fog behind them. One faery, flying high above the marching and flying forces of the Unsullied, raised a conch to her lips and blew, and below the thousands of warriors massed into formations, Brentylwith's commands booming unnaturally loud. Faeries dashed to the King, notifying him of swarms of a strange new enemy spotted directly north of them and to the north-west, and the King sent to Newygnong, bidding her direct her forces to the north to face the enemy there. And with Seihdhos raised high, the airborne Unsullied horde followed its King.

The earth shook beneath the feet of Newygnong's earthbound regiments, their spears pounding the ground and wickerwork shields brought close. Soon enough the swarming horde of strange dark creatures came into sight, and there was no doubt in Newygnong's mind that they were creatures of corruption. Sending a fleet messenger to inform the King of this - so that all doubt about the nature of these swarms would be known - she had her newly formed army prepare to take on the enemy. Some fifty Eshgaebars with elaborate leafy crowns shouted out order to their companies as small messenger faeries rushed from Newygnong to them and conches were blown to bring the entire army to battle readiness.

In the distance, the Perfected Fae came. The Perfected Unsullied flew above the sullied that ran like beasts, with no signs of stopping or slowing down. The tension lingering in the air had finally been broken by a flood of perversion and wickedness. The small shadow sullied pulled ahead of the group, numbering in the hundreds, their eyes glowing a bright red, while their mouths revealed sharp teeth for biting. They growled and snarled as they came, the chorus of loosed animals on the hunt. After them came the larger sullied, seething a corrupt dust from their malignant forms. Their very bodies were broken, with their arms mostly formed into sharpened appendages and feet but claws; the sullied were but weapons. These sullied did not number so greatly, but they were fearsome creatures, whose voices howled, adding to the sick cacophony of the corrupted horde.

High above them came the Unsullied, glowing vibrant colors within their bodies of blackened dust, they would be the ones in charge. Reigning in the sullied would prove to be challenging once the battle commenced, but the Unsullied did not care. For with them came the arrogance of truly perfect beings, they were completely in line to Larwen's will, and saw the host before them as inferior beings. They would use their innate corruption as weapons for war, for they too had sharp claws and pointed teeth, curved into dreadful smiles. They very sky itself seemed to darken as they came closer, their colors, like faded stars, as the only light so far up above. These Fae sang twisted songs with voices vaguely familiar to those whom they once were.

The familiar sounds alarmed the gathered Unsullied, warriors looked from one to another in fear. But Newygnong, who felt their fear, stepped forth and delivered a bloodcurdling cry. And even before their eyes the beautiful yet deadly commander morphed into a horrifying beast. Purity raised high, she turned to them and cried - 'Follow me, and let them taste our fury!'



And with that, the great, humanoid insect of war rushed ahead. So unnerved by their strange commander that their fear at hearing the cries of their brethren was forgotten, the Eshgaebars released their warcries and bid their companies charge. And as one, the Unsullied host rushed forth to meet their former comrades.

The flood that the Perfected Fae were at last collided with the charging Unsullied host under Newygnong, like waves crashing upon stone. The Perfected Unsullied looked upon the beast with the gleaming sword, and hissed. Such a creature they had not been expecting, but the perfected sullied paid no mind. The lesser shadows fought violently against the Fae, biting at any openings found, and clawing upon shields and skin. They fought till they could no longer move, turning to a black dust as they passed. The Perfected greater sullied fared better against the larger of the Fae and targeted the bug creature with impunity. Up above was great confrontation between those that could fly. Perfected Unsullied and Unsullied zipped around at quick speeds, small explosions of dust erupted throughout the air as the Perfected passed violently into dust. Those they killed brought great satisfaction to them and violence seemed to be their true language. Whenever they could, they pelted the great bug with stolen weapons and their own corruption. The sounds of war were deafening, and would be heard to all that listened as the battle waged on.

Newygnong's screeches sounded even over the din of battle, her boney tale snaking out at terrific speeds and spearing corrupted fae in her vicinity, her various arms batting them from existence with impunity while Purity cleft them into mere clouds of dust. All around her was black mist through which she strode as if to teach the meaning of true terror to those who erroneously and naively thought they embodied it.

Spear-wielding Unsullied companies, encouraged and directed by their commanding Eshgaebars, raised their shields and tore at their foes, and in the air the shouts of the leaf-crowned commanders provided a semblance of order in a world of utter chaos. 'Shields!' here sounded and, 'SPEARS!' was the cry there. Small beasts of shadow tore at the shields and were swiftly speared with eagle-eyed precision before another took its place. Shields were torn and spears broken, and Unsullied warrior took on corrupted fae in barehanded combat - the warrior chafing beneath the pure strength of the corrupted being. And when a company found itself faced with one of the larger corrupted creatures, spears came up and they attacked en masse - warriors were flung like ragdolls here and there before the brute strength of the beast, but spears struck true.

Eshgaebar Tingalina, spear in hand, directed her airborne company at a group of massing corrupted Unsullied who seemed to be focussing their attacks against the mighty Newygnong, flinging looted weapons at the commander - who either cleft them before they reached her with tail or sword, or caught them in midair before flinging them back. And there were those that landed and clanged off her carapace. 'At them!' Tingalina cried, and the company arced in the air - keeping its formation - and slammed into the enemy from above and fought them to the ground. The ground was strewn with black and gold dust, and in the air and on the winds the dust of former fae was carried.

A few Perfected Unsullied broke away from the battle, gaining height and surveying the chaos of below. They looked to each other, frowning at the realization that the battle was not going favorably. It seemed that the Fae had learned combat in their absence, with formations of warriors battling with precision. The Perfected only fought with barbarity and strength, without the training to truly hone such skills. They were effective, but lost too many and did not have the sheer force of numbers they had hoped to throw at them. Then there was the mighty bug warrior, an unpredictable element that fought for the enemy and seemed to have no weakness that could be exploited easily. The sullied bore the brunt of this assault, and their forces were quickly diminishing but not without inflicting their own pain upon the Fae. Yet still the battle waged on, the dust beginning to clog the very air itself.

With little else to do, the Perfected Unsullied up above screamed, a high pitched noise that sounded harrowing. It made the sounds of war quiet or cease altogether and the Perfected Fae began to retreat en mass. They cared not for any wounded, for they would only slow them down. The perfected sullied lingered longer than the perfected Unsullied, but soon retreated at great speeds across the earth. The Unsullied who flew, hissed in dissatisfaction as their host lost the battle. Angry talk and curses would usher from their mouths and always with the promise of revenge. The Corrupted beings of Larwen had been defeated in that battle, but the war was far from over.

As the enemy force made its escape, Newygnong's force gathered about her and the yet rejected daughter of war morphed back into the form her brother had granted her. She turned to her warriors and, raising Purity high, gave a victorious cry. Her warriors raised their spears and echoed their commander's cry, and they hammered with the butts of their spears at the earth. Then Newygnong leapt into the air and dashed across the heavens, her host following close behind, and rushed to aid Brentylwith.

When Newygnong arrived with her now smaller force, she found the King engaged in battle with the other swarm of corrupted fae. The King could clearly be seen, flanked by his warriors, swinging Seihdhos about with skill, sending forth a great pillar of black dust. Airborne regiments clashed with corrupted Unsullied, and the giant creatures of darkness down on the ground swung their great arms about and flattened dozens of Unsullied warriors with the one movement. And yet the warriors held, and on the coming of Newygnong's force Larwen's swarms knew that they had no hope of victory today and - like the first swarm - the cry went up for a retreat and bit by bit the corrupted creatures began to disentangle themselves from the fray.

Newygnong made to give chase with her warriors, but the King's conch sounded and all troops descended to the ground and formed up in their various regiments before the King. Seihdhos in hand, the Unsullied King flew here and there gesturing to the fleeing enemy.

'They are brought low and humiliation is their lot!' He declared, and the troops slammed their spears into the ground in approval. 'Before the might of the warriors the Unsullied race, they have no hope! Never again will our brethren be taken from us! NEVER AGAIN WILL THEY BE SULLIED SO!' The cry of the troops went up, 'and we will end their misery on the field, and they will re-emerge from death and join us anew! And they- will be- UNSULLIED!'


_{Time: Takes place at least EIGHT MONTHS after the Day the Gods Came}

Eshgaebar Tingalina lay in the branches of the tree, her spear hanging from a hand as she looked up into the night sky through the mystical mist. The golden-haired faery fiddled with the crown of leaves that adorned her head. It marked her out as an Eshgaebar, commander of a one-hundred fae company of warriors. When selecting who was worthy of being being appointed to the position, the King and his commander, the strange Newygnong, had consulted long with the Lord Elabeen and Lady Fylmira. And Tingalina had been amongst the first to be selected.

'Tingalina was amongst the first to witness the attacks - she fought the protect her beloved Rowan, and was injured and hurt, but still managed to return and warn us of the impending threat. And she has since led groups of faeries deep into the mountains in search of Rowan, and has been the cause of much pain to the hated Morig.' Elabeen had informed the King. And Newygnong herself had summoned Tingalina and, morphing so her form was closer to the size of the little faery, tested her martial skills until she was satisfied that Tingalina was indeed a warrioress of some standing (and it was only natural, for the Flame-haired goddess had seen fit that Tingalina be one of those she selected when she taught the Unsullied the ways and laws of war).

And in that first encounter with those strange fae, Tingalina had fought and killed faeries whose voices and faces - and whose eyes - she thought she recognised. And in her heart of hearts she feared that Rowan had met the awful fate of becoming one of those... things. The thought brought her no comfort at all, but only caused a tear to come to her eyes. She stood up and looked into the distance, her small childish form now rippling with strength and her once-innocent face betraying the horrors she had seen. She was no longer simply an Unsullied - she was a warrioress. A soldier. The small spear in her hand was held in grip now familiar with it, and her fingers were already calloused and scarred. Bringing her hardened fingertips to her cheek, she wondered if Newygnong would teach her how to make her body soft and beautiful again, and she wondered if somewhere in the far off mountains Rowan waited on her to come and save her.

Gripping her spear and unfurling her wings, the faery flew up high until she was above the mists. There she raised her voice and shouted long, and she thought her cry reached the heavens and echoed through the mountains. And her cry was Rowan.
But her cry echoed below also, and Newygnong heard her. The crimson-haired wielder of Purity found the little faery above the mists and joined her. There were tears in the faery's eyes, and Newygnong instinctively raised a carapaced hand and - the protective shell morphing away to reveal a pale white one below - wiped the tears from Tingalina's eyes. The faery seemed stunned and raised a hand to touch Newygnong's pale limb. It was incredibly soft. It was also cool.

'Why are you crying, Eshgaebar?' The red-haired warrioress asked. Tingalina did not let go of Newygnong's hand as she brought it down. The faery looked off towards the mountains and considered how to respond.
'I... had a good friend.' Newygnong looked off towards the mountains too. 'She's been gone a long time now and... after what we saw, those creatures... I'm worried.' There was silence for a time between them as Tingalina stroked Newygnong's hand, 'if... if Rowan has become like them... is there a way to cure her?' Newygnong did not respond, causing Tingalina to look at her. Silently, Newygnong brought the little fairy into an embrace and stroked her golden locks.
'If there is a way, we will find it.' She said at last. The childlike faery held onto Newygnong's hard carapace and was filled with wonder.
'How is it that your shell is so hard yet your hands,' and here the faery grasped Newygnong's pale hand once more, 'is so soft? And your face,' and she placed a tiny finger onto Newygnong's cheek, finding it just as cool and soft as the heroine's hand. Newygnong shrugged.
'I guess I just happened that way.' Tingalina cocked her head at this odd response, 'I mean, I wasn't always this way. When I was first born I was... well. I guess it would be easier to show you, would it not?' And before Tingalina's eyes the little red-haired warrioress grew into an enormous worm-like creature with a carapace of dark blue and mandibles as long and sharp as blades. 'But I did not like it, and I willed I be otherwise,' and once more Newygnong morphed and became a smaller, stockier insectoid - yet still a giant to the little Tingalina. 'And then my brother came and helped me, and he made me beautiful.' And Newygnong was once more her beautiful red-haired self.
'So under this black shell,' Tingalina touched Newygnong's carapaced chest, 'you are... all snowy and soft?' Newygnong smiled shyly and looked away.
'I've never looked, so I don't know. But I would think so.'
'And you just... will yourself to change form? Can you become anything at all?' Newygnong thought on it for a few moments.
'I am pretty good at it, so I guess anything that I put my mind to, yes.' Tingalina smiled mischievously at this.
'So can you grow two heads?!'
'Yes, and two hands to whack you with,' and Newygnong thwacked the Eshgaebar (lightly, mind you) on the head.


_{Time: The Present}

Larwen had not left the confines of the Pale One for a very long time, slowly recuperating his strength and watching the first Perfected Unsullied on her journey towards true enlightenment. She had once been called Rowan, but that name was no longer sustaining, no longer confining her to a shell of dust. Larwen had looked into her very heart when he had first taken her. It had not been by chance, for Larwen saw in her a thirsting for more. It was by this foundation he would build her into something truly special. The first step involved power, a tool that drove sentience forward. Larwen saw it everywhere, to the Zalsarix who fought one another for leadership, to the Perfected Fae who bickered over Lords and Ladies, it could be all consuming. Temptation was a part of power that led the weak to strength, and the strong to Perfection. That was what he had seen in the little Fae, always playing at the heartstrings of those she touched, and no matter how she used her gifts before the Forge, now they would truly shine.

Larwen had known her new name the moment she had emerged gloriously from the Forge. Like sweet nectar, the taste of a little bit more, subtle at first but steadily growing till all consuming. Intoxicating. Beautiful. Alluring. With the promises of desire. Maeve would be her name, for this name envisioned all of what Larwen had seen. She would be a Queen, beautiful to behold but terrifying towards her foes. She would caress the very hearts of those she touched, whispering to them the greatness of Larwen and the gift of Perfection. His will would spread through Maeve, and her power would grow as he did, until at last the world was at peace, cradled by hands untainted by imperfection. All the little one had to do, was speak her name aloud, to let it flow gently from her lips, to be heard by no one, yet everyone. This was Larwen's hope, and even as Maeve sat upon a rock in the deep of Pervanon, Larwen watched, the anticipation palpable. She was close, so close to finding herself but Larwen's attention shifted to a noise he had never heard before. That which sounded like a baby, and it was coming from the Forge. Larwen then willed himself there, and was confounded by what he saw before him.

There was a faint noise coming from Larwen's forge. At first it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary, however the noise was becoming more noticeable as time passed. The sound was distant but was there never the less. To a keen ear it sounded like the cries of a child, but these cries were not loud like those of a normal baby. The cries sounded softer and were more like a whisper, Something noticeable was coming though the forge which would be strange to the great corrupter. A few moments later what appeared to be a bubble was slowly coming out form the forge, A rather strange sight to behold especially when there was something inside the bubble.

If anyone was to look at the now floating bubble they would see a small baby sized god inside, the baby itself was wrapped in a long yellow robes. The body was a dark green with many tentacles coming form it's tiny body, It's feet were tentacles but it's hands were like a human hand expect with three long looking fingers. It's face was strange as well with tentacles where it's chin should be, Dark greenish yellow eyes and a sharp teeth mouth could be seen on it's face. The bubble was coming closer towards Larwen, The crying was still soft like the wind blowing in the sky.

Larwen stood still as the small bubble floated towards him, carrying within it that which looked like a baby, but the God of Perfection could tell it was no mere child. He perceived that of a newborn god, connected to his Forge of Purity in a way that he had not considered before. Quite so, Larwen was bewildered by such a creation before him. It mewled softly, a noise he did not fancy in anyway, and it looked incredibly deformed and unsightly. Somehow it had came from his Forge, but it was not yet perfected. This would have to be corrected before the child grew into a god. Larwen then went to grab the bubble, and to his great dismay, he popped it and simply watched as the babe fell to the floor.

With the bubble popped the baby now laid on the floor, crying still before suddenly the room became eerily quiet. The yellow robes covering the baby stayed the same size as soon the baby started to grow. The small figure inside of the robes becoming larger so it seemed the god would be quite tall, more tentacles were poking out of the robes and sprawled all over the floor. A few moments later and there laid a newly formed god, the figure slowly lifting himself onto his tentacles stood before Larwen looking like he was going to touch the sky, "Wh...where am I?" The god spoke but sounded more like he was speaking to himself in a soft whisper. Looking around the area he could see a frightening figure, not knowing it was Larwen, His eyes looking down at the robes before his so called feet. His eyes then darting towards a reflection in the small pool of water from the bubble, he saw his reflection for the first time.

From what he saw he did not like in the slightest, letting out a gasp of horror at his own appearance. His strange hands covering his face, his emotions telling him there was a monster looking back at him. "A beast..I am.." He thought bumping into the robes he was clothed in. Looking down at the cloth, picking it up and covering his body, "I must cover this hideous face, No human...nor god shall lay sight to this abomination" He spoke using his robes to hide his face for a moment. Crouching down now his hand outstretched in front of him, pointing to the floor trying to see if he could make a mask to cover his face. The rocks around him moved and changed shape to create a pale emotionless mask that was then placed upon his face.

Larwen watched all of this unfold before him with curiosity. The new god did not seem to know exactly what he was, and thought of his body as a hideous thing. He was not wrong in the slightest, his body was off putting to be sure. Larwen thought a moment on what to do with this God. He had been wanting to test out his Forge upon divine flesh, perhaps this would be the opportunity he so desired. He felt only a small connection to the God, mainly because he had emerged from the Forge. He let his presence be known then, "You are in Pervanon, my home." Larwen began in a rich silky voice, "You have come from my Forge but are not of it, or me. A most peculiar predicament indeed. But of course, where are my manners, I am Larwen, child. Lord of Mount Pervanon, and God of Perfection. Who are you?"

The newly formed god had to think for a moment of what his name was, Luckily for him he remembered it and then some. "My name is Memoriae. Was it you whom created me from that?" He asked pointing to the forge with a long finger. His mind was racing with thoughts and questions he could give to the one named Larwen.

"Memoriae." Larwen stated aloud, "No I did not create you. For if I had, you would be Perfected and not how you are now." It was true, Larwen did not voluntarily create this God. He was not of him, not perfected and beautiful like Larwen's other creations. No, Memoriae was not his child.

"If I am not your child, then why am I here? Was the great creator playing some sort of joke on me? I remember something about another god...but it is hazy" He said softly looking around feeling intimidated by the other god. The robed god now moving a bit closer towards Larwen, "Whatever the situation my be...I must have memories" He said his mask doing well to hide his face.

Larwen was puzzled by the God's words. A great creator? Memories? Why was Memoriae moving closer to him? He spoke after a time, "I know not why you are here, or this great creator you speak of. All I know is that you are not of me, and that means you are imperfect, a flaw like the rest of the gods. Memories or not, you will go back into the Forge, and become Perfected." Larwen stated flatly.

Memoriae was moving backwards now from Larwen, feeling more afraid as time passed on. His curiosity on what kind of memories the other god had would be a big risk to him, "If I was to become like you, then you would take my memories for yourself!" He said sounding angry now, as he kept moving backwards. Looking around his the area he needed a place to be alone and this was not the place for him. "If you will not help me collect memories...then you are useless to me." He said turning around summoning what looked like a bubble but was more solid looking, Trying to float away form Larwen and to some place safe.

Larwen stood still has Memoriae talked, listening to the God try to rationalize what would soon happen to him. Larwen had no need for memories, he simply wanted his Perfection to change the God before him, so that he might be more inclined to his own thinking. It mattered not now, as Larwen put on a sadistic smile as he saw Memoriae backing away. He spoke with the same silky tones as before as he began to walk towards Memoriae, "Come now little one, this is not the time for games." Larwen then summoned his divine weapon, Willbreaker, the mace of domination. But before he could take a swing at him, Larwen heard her. Maeve had said her name at last and was ready for his grand plans. He looked at Memoriae once again, stopping in his tracks and letting the god go. "You are lucky child, now begone from this place less you incur my wrath further." Larwen the whispered for Maeve to join him.

Memoriae was floating away form the other god, he was glad that he had escaped from the wrath of Larwen. Eventually he found the exit from Mount Pervanon, opening up the world to him. Turning to face the horizon Memoriae hoped he could get to some place safe and to also start collecting memories. His eyes eventually looking towards the greenery of a forest far away from the mountains. This is where he would call home for the time being. Moving his bubble closer towards the forest and letting it pop as his tentacles touched the ground. His eyes then scanned the area, seeing the animals frolicking, so he took this moment to take their memories, finding nothing important nor entertaining about them.

He then started to walk into the forest, changing his appearance to a more human one. From the hazy memory he did have of them, he knew what one particular face looked like. His plan now was to make a home and eventually collect memories and followers. Finding a good spot for him to build he created a small house for the time being to house him. The house itself one could say was quite cute being mostly made out of the timber around him. The inside was filled with furniture and other things you would normally find in a home. Beds, drawers, cupboards and what not with many bookshelves being placed inside of his new home. Putting things he would need for his stay in his home, he hoped he would not run into anymore scary gods.



Back in Pervanon, Larwen sat by the Forge of Purity, awaiting Maeve in the dim glow. His Zalsarix came and went about their business, carving more bones and huddling in groups. They did not speak, but Larwen found them to be social creatures who preferred the safety of a pack when out hunting or taking creatures to the Forge. Larwen knew that he would have to elevate them further if he ever wanted to see them grow and expand their numbers. For it was one thing to exist, but another to live and the Zalsarix were stuck somewhere in the middle. They existed, and lived but their lives were paltry compared to the Perfected Fae, who communicated with one another their thoughts and feelings, their hate for the unnatural. Larwen wished the Zalsarix would reflect that behavior, that drive, but it had not been how they were created. Soon he would Perfect more children, ones that could communicate, grow and build a civilization unlike Galbar had yet seen. He would teach them the wonders of his gifts, and bestow upon them his will. But first..

"Maeve, you have arrived at last my child." Larwen said into the darkness, and before him came the Perfected Fae still as pretty as she had been when she first emerged in the very same room, born anew. Her journey had come full circle, but it was far from over. In fact, it had barely even begun. Maeve strode up to him in confidence, in her heart she was satisfied but yes, Larwen smiled, she still craved more. She then sank to her knees and grovelled before Larwen saying, 'Yes, O'Powerful one. I have done as you asked and found my name within the depths of the mountain.' Came Maeve's voice, reverberating through his mind.
"Speak it." Larwen commanded her. The very weight of his voice pressing down the air.
'I am Maeve, daughter of Perfection.' she said proudly in the dark.
"That you are, child. That you are." Larwen then stood up and looked down upon her, "Rise Maeve, First of the Perfected Unsullied Fae." The Fae did as told, her height a quarter of the size of Larwen. "You have been gone a long time, I was beginning to think your search was futile, that I would have to find another to take your place." Maeve shifted slightly, Larwen could tell she was irritated at the idea of being replaced, in her mind she sought to be at the top, powerful and loved by all who saw her. This pleased Larwen and he continued, "But you have done well, take heart in that dear one. Much has happened since you left. The Zalsarix have been busy, taking your kin for the forge to fight Lasis, one of my sisters and we have been most successful. Your cousins, the imperfect Fae did not like this, for in their stupidity they decided to inhabit these lands, and now their king has come to save them. Then my brother, Regulus, decided to cloud the Zalsarix's vision in a dense fog over their lands, halting any new life being Perfected at the forge. Your siblings have gone to war, yet there has been no victory and that is where I turn to you." Larwen finished at last.

Maeve stood at attention, in reverence towards her God and patron. She listened to his words most carefully, and found herself amiss when told that she might have been replaced if she could not find herself. Such a thought was daunting, to be cast aside so easily for failing. Thankfully, her fear could be put aside for now but Maeve would always keep in mind that failure was a term Larwen would not tolerate. It had seemed the war had begun, against her inferior cousins and their foolish king but she could hardly believe her siblings had lost so easily.
'My lord, permit me to ask, how did my siblings fail?' Maeve questioned.
Larwen said nothing for a moment then began, "Your siblings were caught by surprise. It seemed the Fae have been taught the merits of war, by who I can only assume is Seihdhara, my sister. They fought with tactics, formations, precision... Though your kind did inflict damage upon them, it was not satisfactory, but I shall leave this blame with myself. I shall teach them more in time. Even as we speak now, they flock back to Pervanon's safety."
This shocked Meave, for how humble her God could be. For she cared little for her siblings other then that they show her signs of affection, but for Larwen to blame himself instead of them, heartened Maeve. 'I am most sorry for this loss, my lord.' she said softly, 'I will do anything I can to make this situation better. I would sunder the very mountains to win the war for you, I would break the Fae King's neck if he were in my grasp, I would lay down my life if it so pleased yo-'
Her voice was cut off by Larwen raising a mighty hand. He leaned in closer to Maeve and whispered into her very soul with a warm softness, "This pleases me, Maeve. I did not by accident choose you so long ago. I looked into your mind, your very heart and I saw the seeds of greatness stirring. You wanted more for yourself, even if you would not admit it. You desired the power to one day be a queen, beautiful to behold by your peers. So I took you, to see if these seeds would bloom, and my dear sweet Maeve, they have grown."

Maeve's body grew warm with Larwen's voice, stoking the fires that gave her strength, that gave her life. She could only listen to Larwen, for her voice had abandoned her to sheer delight. What he said was true, she had never realized her full potential before the Forge, her desire for power had long been in her heart, repressed by other, now diminutive, emotions and thoughts. She wanted it, she needed it.
"I have decided that you will be a Queen. Monarch of the Perfected Courts, beautiful and empowering, deadly and terrible to behold, you shall be the sweetest of nectar, and the most tempting of forbidden fruits. Will you take upon yourself this burden? This beautiful curse? Or will temptation consume even your heart I wonder?" Larwen finished, pulling away from Maeve and looking down upon her once more.

Maeve's entire body tingled, writhing in euphoria at the very words of her god. A great hunger had been awoken inside her, it thirsted for more. Larwen had given her but a taste of temptation, now he offered more. To be greater then those that had came after her, to be stronger then the inferior. This was her destiny, she would be able to show Tingalina what it truly meant to be Perfected, and have her sister Fae love her even more. Maeve at last found her voice, after standing in front of Larwen with graceful smile she looked into his eyes and without hesitating she answered, her voice full of dignity and pride, 'I accept, o'graciously, my lord.'

Larwen smiled, he raised his arms far apart horizontally, and with one mighty clap, Maeve's world changed forevermore. The Fae collapsed into a heap before Larwen, her very body of dust growing longer, her chest breaking apart in several spaces between her ribs, to reveal a luminous white glow. Her arms and legs lengthened as her body became more feminine around the waste and chest. Her skin turned black, hardening into a substance not so different from the Zalsarix, but unlike them, her body was smooth and rigged along her core. Her head grew longer, the same luminous lights erupting vertically in four places upon her face, while sat atop, was a crown. Finally, her back gave way to long, luminous white strands deeply intertwined, glowing and moving freely as wings. Maeve had been born again, for the third time in her life. She gasped aloud when the process finished, for she felt stronger then she had ever been. She began to sit up, marveling at her long arms and slender fingers, then looking down at her body, noting the changes and marveling at their perfection.

She had almost forgotten Larwen was present but when he spoke, she focused on him in a new light, "Come Maeve, come and look upon yourself within the place of your conception." Larwen then offered his hand, and Maeve slowly took it, feeling the God's flesh with her new senses. Larwen lifted her up but Maeve, not used to her feet yet, began to fall face first as the god pulled. But Larwen was fast, realizing his mistake, and managed to catch her along her waist with his free hand. Flustered Maeve began, 'I-I. Forgive me, this body is new.' her voice quickly rang out, sounding fuller and resonating the perfect tone.

Larwen, though slightly embarrassed touching her around the waist, showed no signs of such thoughts. "There is no need to apologize. An accident it was, and nothing more. Come now, your body must practice walking." And so, after a few steps, Maeve was well on her way to walking once again. Larwen in the meantime, brought her closer to the edge of the Forge, and once they loomed over the pit, he spoke, "Now look into the Forge, see your reflection in all its glory."

Maeve cautiously looked over, careful not to lose her footing and fall in. What she saw looking back was the purity of her flesh, the crown she now carried atop her head would always be with her, as was her divine right. She touched her face, the light within warm and soft. Maeve had truly become beautiful, and all who looked upon her would know it and despair. She turned to Larwen and sank to her knees, bowing in respect, her voice shaking as she spoke to him, 'Words cannot describe... I thank you for this my lord... my master. You have made me powerful beyond anything I could ever imagine, and it... I am truly beautiful.'

Larwen crouched down, taking a finger to Maeve's chin, raising her face to meet his. "Once you entered the Forge, you became one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. You have power here," Larwen pointed to her glowing chest, "And here." Larwen pointed at her head. "You have been born to expand my influence, to lead my armies, to be a Queen. Use both your strength of heart, and your strength of mind to do so. None shall stand in the way of your voice, your power, your might. Now rise, Maeve the Beautiful, the Queen, the Temptress, firstborn of the Perfected Unsullied Fae. I have a gift beyond what has already been given my child."

Maeve rose, noble with her head held high, but within her mind a single phrase played over and over again, 'You became one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen.' One of the most beautiful. Larwen's words only meant that she was not the first, a troubling thought but Maeve would have to deal with it another time. She then looked to Larwen expectantly, and from Larwen's hand Willbreaker materialized. The Mace of Domination. He handed the hilt towards Maeve but the Exquisite Fae hesitated, not sure what to do. Larwen spoke bemused, "I bequeath to you Willbreaker for the time being, I have no use for it here in Pervanon and a Queen needs a weapon fit for her stature. This Mace dominates all that come into the radius of its influence, it will compliment you and it is a most useful tool when fighting. Though you have not been trained for combat, you will find yourself capable of using the energy within yourself as a weapon. Do not be afraid to test your limits. A word of caution Maeve, you must be wary of those that wield blades, for their make is exceptional, and their wielders trained. Show them no mercy, no hesitation to strike them down before they do the same to you. Now take it." Larwen finished.

Maeve, finally gripped the handle and felt the divine weapon's power flow through her. To a certain extent she could also feel its influence, but Maeve found herself immune to such an effect, for she was already under Larwen's influence. Once again she bowed deeply, and stated, "You honor me once again, my lord." she paused then continued, 'How are you planning to fight the Fae exactly? If they have been trained for war, what advantage do my subjects now possess? I would hate to fail you before I even had a chance.'

To this Larwen thought for a moment. His children were woefully unprepared against a trained enemy but an edge could be provided, a gift of true power might be able to turn the tide. Larwen simply smiled at Maeve and beckoned for her to follow.

Sometime later, when the Perfected Fae had returned from their failed battles, and Larwen had introduced them to their new Queen, they had gathered near the Perfected Ley's chamber. By now the growth of the ley had progressed throughout Pervanon, and to the surrounding mountains. Larwen could feel the souls awaiting for bodies, but he was a crafty God and a solution to the problems he faced had arisen within his mind. There existed his Perfection within the Ley, this he knew but his questions had brought him to a final conclusion- they could be used for other purposes beyond awaiting for flesh. Similar to how Maeve and the Zalsarix worked, he would gift all of his creations the ability to use the energy, or the essence of the soul, within their bodies and allow them the extension of casting it into the form of physical embodiment. A basic form of magic, that he would call the Corr. With a weave of his hands, Larwen made it so, imbuing the knowledge of how to wield the Corr into the Perfected races under his sway. Larwen then turned to Maeve who stood by his side.

"There is your advantage Maeve. Now go! Use it well and smite my enemies from these lands!" Maeve nodded, turned to the great host of Perfected Fae, raised Willbreaker into the air high above her crown and proclaimed loudly, 'TO WAR!' The Perfected Fae cheered, stronger than ever before, and with a Queen to lead them -what could challenge them now?



The great Unsullied forest, home to the many faeries who called the Unsullied Court at the Anathema Heights home, stood proud and free at the foot of the heights, straddling the source of the river which now went by their name and encroaching ever so slightly on Larwen's domains. Small though the Unsullied forest was - for it had not been in existence for long at all - its inhabitants well knew that it was fated for eternal expansion. The Unsullied forests of the world would grow forever until all the earth was but one great, grand, beautiful forested metropolis. They had not thought they would face any obstacle to achieving their brave utopia other than their recalcitrant Sullied cousins. And yet they now found that they thought very little of the Sullied, faced as they were with a threat far greater and more dangerous than the Sullied - who, after all, were still Fae and still sought the expansion of nature's dominions.



The foe they faced sought not only their destruction - and that would have been a mercy - no, it sought far more than that. It sought to possess them, to alter them at the most basic level, and to use them for a purpose so repugnant to their present selves that they could barely stomach to think of it. In the days since the first engagement with their Stolen brethren, the warrior-fae of the Unsullied Court at the Anathema Heights had battled again and yet again with the strange beings of corruption. They were smaller engagements, it was true (for the Stolen had taken care not to attack the Unsullied in large numbers, having realised their inability to face them on the field), but they were opportunities for the Unsullied to cement their tactics and see the training and knowledge their troops received bolstered by true battle experience. And behind the strange wall of fog that covered their forest, they were safe.

Eshgaebar Tingalina had personally led her loyal one-hundred in various raids into the mountains and closer to home, warding off small parties of Stolen fae who encroached too near to the Unsullied forest. But she did not merely fight to protect her forest home - in truth, she fought also to find Rowan. Even if the single cure for this corruption was death, Tingalina would have been at peace knowing that Rowan had been released back into the essence of the world and could return unsullied once more. As it were, she had not come across any Stolen fae that resembled Rowan in any way.



Tingalina remembered well the meek faery she had been, how Rowan had always been spirit of freedom and adventure, always pushing her towards new and exciting things. In many ways, it had enabled Tingalina to settle comfortably in her inner world, confident that Rowan would always be around to ensure she sufficiently explored the outer world. She was always there to grab her by the hand and force her from one reverie or another to stare in wonder at the barely visible souls in the river, or listen to the snoring spirits in the trees, or to watch for the longest time as the trees of the forest bore fruit and life bloomed.

And then she was not.

And that fact had dragged her out of all reveries. She was suddenly ever awake and ever alert. But Tingalina did not think it to be a good alertness or wakefulness, certainly not the type Rowan had created. This was the wakefulness brought about by loss and the alertness engendered by pain. Her once soft, dreamy brown eyes were now as bark, her once-soft hands that knew no hardship now those of a warrior that had seen more than a dozen encounters, her voice - that only knew laughter and song - the cold, commanding one of an Eshgaebar. And her lithe, feminine form was now sculpted and rippled with strength - which was rather unsettling when mixed with her childish form.

When the sound of the conch reached her ears - three blasts, alerting all who heard that a large enemy host was approaching - she was swift to call up her brave one-hundred and assemble before Brentylwith the King and Newygnong his foremost commander. Taking to the air, they all formed up in the sky above the protective mist and looked upon the distant clouds of darkness that approached the Unsullied forest. Even from so far away, it looked to be a simply enormous swarm. Brentylwith raised Seihdhos high and gestured for his forces to follow him. Newygnong likewise signalled for her Eshgaebars and their companies to follow her behind the first force, and Tingalina followed her crimson-haired commander.

The two army groups raced towards the enemy force, Brentylwith spear-heading directly for the enemy centre. Newygnong maintained her force's position in reserve. The enemy force grew ever closer, and in the air just north of the Unsullied forest, two great forces of Stolen and Unsullied clashed once more.

Maeve had left Pervanon with her host of the Perfected Fae, days ago, and their journey to the Unsullied forest was uneventful. She talked with several Fae under her about the tactics their cousins had used in previous battles. Their answers left her unsatisfied, it seemed her subjects did not have the greatest minds for details. Nonetheless she learned the basics of their weaponry and shields, plus the commanders. One she knew to be the king, the other one, a 'bug demon' as they called her, she knew not the slightest about from her past. All the while, she thought of Tingalina, for Maeve had not found her among the Perfected and she had also learned she had never been taken. Her excitement grew as the forest came into view at last, she could taste the very air, and it was one of certain victory. The Fae would be unaware of their newfound abilities, and of her. The trap was set.

As soon as her forces collided with the Fae, there came a frantic melee upon the ground and in the air, and Maeve remained in the back with a few Perfected Unsullied as guards, surveying. From where she hovered, watching the battle escalate, she could see all. When her forces had mingled enough with the enemy, she gave the signal, a beautiful wail emanated from her luminous mouth, signalling the Perfected Fae to let loose the Corr. The very energy from within, utilized for war. From the hands of the Perfected came spherical balls of darkness, their centers glowing red or the color of the glow within their chests. They flung these Corr Shadows at the Unsullied, where if hit, the Fae would suffer a grievous wound that ate their dust. Down below, the Perfected Sullied used the Corr to enhance their abilities, hardening themselves from the blows of the Unsullied.

Then Maeve took to the field with Willbreaker, her presence strengthening the Perfected near her and her figure dazzling the Fae. They would not have seen anything like her before, for she was new and powerful. She flung her own magic at the Unsullied with impunity, turning them to dust in a flash of light. Willbreaker pummeled any Fae who came to close, and it exerted its influence, breaking the nearest hearts of the Fae of their will to fight. They became easy pickings for her forces. Maeve herself laughed as she killed, no longer feeling anything for the creatures of her youth. She thought them nothing but inferior, weak and easily defeated by her beauty. In the back of her mind, she kept an eye out for Tingalina, secretly hoping to find her within the chaos of the battle. Would her old friend even recognize her? Probably not, but it would not stop Maeve from her search.

Shocked by the unexpected Corr attack, Brentylwith's force recoiled from the enemy and found itself fighting desperately to hold the Stolen at bay. The strange magick - unlike anything in existence - tore through the wickerwork shields and destroyed the wooden spears, and more Unsullied fell in one Corr attack than had fallen in entire engagements before. And the coming of the strange commander with her mighty mace only served to add to the desperate situation. This Newygnong saw, and the conch was blown to bring her forces to attention. Raising Purity, she dashed upwards in a great arc, and her troops followed her in an aerial flanking manoeuvre that saw the great force of Unsullied crash into the Stolen from above like a tremendous wave. And this time, the red-haired warrioress did not taken on an insectoid form, but chose to battle in the form gifted her by her brother and which so resembled the mighty war goddess. Her hair, like that of her mother, seemed to have a life all its own as she swung Purity with a fury and sent up black dust everywhere.

Tingalina and her brave one-hundred, like the other companies, had followed their crimson-haired commander into the fray and hammered into the strengthened enemy with an equal fury, unfazed by this strange new magick that they now had. And when Tingalina saw the enemy commander she was set upon by the strongest desire to face her and give her the freedom of death. 'On me!' Came the Eshgaebar's voice through the madness of battle, and her warriors formed up on her as she took to the heavens once more, arcing in the air and coming crashing downward towards the enemy commander and her guard. 'UNSULLIED!' Came the terrible warcry which hammered the foe even before the spears and shields landed.

The battle took a sour turn when she spotted a crimson warrior, different than the Fae, lead a charge upon her forces from above. The few Perfected raised their hands to answer, but before they could inflict a grievous injury upon the army, they had already struck. She saw the sword within the warrior's hands, and Larwen's words reminded her not to engage one such as her. Begrudgingly, she signaled to her guards to back up, trying to put distance between them. Before she even turned, she heard the cry, and her voice. Maeve looked up, just in time to see a Fae aerial attack assault her position, but she did not care about the slight injuries she received from the warriors. Maeve did not care for her own guardsmen turning to black dust around her...

No, Maeve had found Tingalina, her strong voice still echoing with her childish candor. Maeve raised Willbreaker, floating towards Tingalina, smacking aside several Fae warriors who stood in the way, while driving the mace's influence to break their will- all except Tingalina. She left her old friend alone. Seeing her brought back memories, flawed ones that held no place any longer within her heart. She had sought her youthful friend out, and fate had brought them together at last. She was surprised to see her in such a state, she looked far more hardened and warlike then when they had last seen each other. 'That's alright,' Maeve mused, 'It seems we've both changed. As all things do.'

Maeve faced her directly within the heart of chaos, standing tall and erect, with Willbreaker to her side. Her voice spoke clearly above the noise, with old familiarity, 'I've been waiting for you...My dear Tingalina.' The Eshgaebar froze on hearing the enemy commander speak in that familiar voice, and speak her name. She looked at the tall, skeletal black figure who shared no resemblance whatsoever with her beloved. Her jaw tightened and her brows furrowed, and her eyes - hard as bark - did not soften.

'And I have been searching for you, Rowan. I searched in the mountains and the streams, in the skies and in the earth. I could not find your presence even amongst the dead. I...' her lower lip trembled, 'I missed you so.' Maeve tilted her head to the side as she listened to Tingalina speak, noting how utterly sad she sounded. It was never Maeve's intent to bring her pain, for she already lived a painful existence. To be without Perfection, was to be dead altogether. No, Maeve wanted to change that, to make Tingalina whole.

'And I missed you, my love. On that day I was taken, my last memories were of you...' Came Maeve's sorrowful voice, 'I wished Larwen would have grabbed you as well, so that we might have been together all this time. Alas, your search for Rowan was always going to end in suffering. For Rowan is gone now, in her place I stand. Maeve the Beautiful. For that discomfort, I am truly sorry.' Maeve then floated slightly closer to Tingalina and reached out one of her long skeletal hands, 'Come with me Tingalina, let me show you what Larwen has shown me. He can Perfect you, he can unlock your true potential, your deepest desires...I will even help you find your true name, my love. Let us be together again! Please. All I care is to hold you once more...' Maeve finished in a kind tone, one of longing.

A certain degree of doubt seemed to show in Tingalina's eyes, and she floated up to Maeve's strange head, ignoring the extended hand, and placed a calloused hand upon what passed for her face. 'Rowan...' she whispered, her hard fingers moving mechanically up and down the side of Maeve's face - which seemed to be made of a substance not at all dissimilar to what the Morig were made of - 'Rowan is not gone. If she is gone, how do you know me? How can you miss me? That is not "Maeve" speaking, that is Rowan. Maeve is not beautiful - any beauty she pretends to is but a mockery of the true beauty Rowan has. Because in my eyes, Rowan was always perfect. Come back with me, Rowan. Newygnong can fix you - we will be happy again, you will remember who you truly are and be with those who love you for all that you are. Come back with me.' It was hope and desperation that clung to Tingalina's voice, and perhaps hope was the greater in those moments.

Tingalina's touch was elating no matter how rough her hand now was, Maeve sighed aloud before letting her own hand fall. She listened to Tingalina's whispers, they were invigorating at first, but quickly soured her mood. Still, her heart faltered when she heard her voice and how desperate she sounded, but Maeve could not allow her to have such ideas. She needed no fixing, and she was beautiful. Larwen had seen to that. She pulled away from Tingalina, stroking the Fae's face with but one finger down her cheek. 'Rowan is dead.' Maeve said coldly, 'Rowan was flawed, she was not perfect. Her memories are my own, but the past is gone.' Maeve's voice dropped, before becoming softer once more, 'I miss you. Maeve misses you, Tingalina. I do not need to be fixed by this Newygnong, for I am happy. Please, I ask again, come with me. I can show you the Forge of Purity and we can be happy together...You'll be like me, and perfect.' But Tingalina only shook her head and, taking Maeve by the hand pulled at her gently.

'You are not yourself - I don't know what they've done to you, but you need to know that this isn't you. We were happy before - you were happy, don't you remember? Don't you remember when Selsibella caught that huge fish and she was scaring everybody with it and then you-' and here Tingalina suddenly smiled, 'and you took it from her and thwacked her all the way back to the river! And that other time when you were so excited over the apples blooming and insisted we sit and watch them from the end of winter until they were in full bloom - you got so bored waiting around, but in the end stayed just for me. And when we stayed up all night at midwinter's just to watch the stars - and you put your head on my shoulder and it was so... it was so right. And when the fireflies came out for the first time! Don't you remember how happy we were?'

Maeve was unmoving from the spot they floated in, but she did not pull away from the small Fae's grasp. Tingalina's smile made Maeve grip her hand tightly, an unspoken display of affection. Emotions swelled inside of Maeve as the tall Fae heard Tingalina's soft voice, and the memories she spoke of in fondness. She remembered Selsibella and the fish, the apples blooming in the spring, the midwinter star's, the fireflies of summer- all of them, from the day they first met. But whatever love and beauty there might have been, was replaced by the flawed life she recognized throughout them. It was all wrong. She looked to Tingalina, a small bit of light, not unlike a tear, rolled down her chest slowly evaporating into a small mist. Maeve saw Tingalina, but she was not the Tingalina she remembered. She was hardened, calloused, a warrior- not the soft Fae who Maeve stole glances at when she wasn't looking. They had changed her, the King, this Newygnong. They had taken the Tingalina who would have listened to her, and buried her beneath armor.

Maeve forcefully pulled away from TIngalina, her voice full of emotion, 'I..I.. remember everything. How could I not? But I do not care for those memories, all I care for is you, Tingalina. You! How can you not see? They've changed you, haven't they? The king, this Newygnong! Your tender heart is gone, replaced by a warrior of stone!' Maeve lamented. 'I should have known this would happen, how could I not? I should have come for you sooner, before they twisted you away from me. That way... That way you would have listened...' Maeve's voice dropped to but a broken whisper now, 'I love you ya'know? I thought... I thought you would love me too... Like this.' Tingalina jerked in slight surprise at the unexpected confession - not that it was anything she did not know - but it very suddenly warmed her. Maeve continued without pause, 'I'm better now, I was wrong before, but I'm better now. I wish you would see that. I wish it had been different, but now, no- Now I have to force you. I need you Tingalina, you're not perfect, but you will be. And in time, perhaps you will love me once again... I'm-I'm sorry.' Maeve then snapped to attention, grabbing Tingalina by her right forearm, attempting to fly away from the battle. Tingalina was too stunned to immediately react to the stronger faery's grasp (could she be called a faery, truly?), but when she had regained her composure she immediately began resisting.

'Rowan! St- stop! Let m- let me go! Stop it!' But there was little she could do against the might of Larwen's chosen, and she felt herself pulled slowly, but surely, from the field of battle. Maeve's heart broke more at Tingalina's cry, but she was adamant in her grip, no matter how much it pained her. 'Sel! Miri! Help me!' The Eshgaebar cried, but the two could be seen down below fighting desperately with the others in what was clearly a losing battle, and Newygnong's crimson hair could be seen in the distance as she single-handedly fought off the enemies swarming her, and it was almost certain that she could not see or hear Tingalina's plight. 'Rowan, please - don't do th-' but her words were suddenly overwhelmed by a new sound - it was like the drone of ten-thousand squiggles, and even those fighting paused momentarily to look about them, fearing some enemy ambush.

There, in the distance but approaching at terrifying speed, was a great swarm that blotted out edge of the world. They came in their thousands, in a surprisingly orderly manner and wielding wooden spears and holding their own shields of animal hide. They came wailing their warcries and screeching their fury - for they too had been wronged by the vile Morig, and had been set upon by their corrupted brethren. The great Sullied horde crashed with a thunder that shook the heavens - for like the earth, even the heaven could be made to shake! - and they set upon their Stolen foes. 'DUST! DUST! MAKE THEM DUST!' was their wrathful cry.

Confusion swept the ranks of the Perfected Fae, Maeve herself looked at the approaching horde, momentarily forgetting who she handled and her grip slackened. This allowed Tingalina to escape away from the tall Fae into the thick of battle. Maeve's voice let out a sad cry, 'No no no no! Come back! Don't leave me...' but before she could give chase, her bearings took hold and she realized the threat of the sullied would overwhelm her forces. Begrudgingly, she signaled the sound of retreat, and began to fly away lest they all die to the combined might of both Fae hosts. She wept in silence at the thought of Tingalina, for Maeve had not- could not believe the outcome of their fated meeting. She had hoped it would have gone different, but Tingalina had softened Maeve's heart with her lovely voice, and she felt differently throughout their encounter than she had before. As the Perfected retreated en mass, she realized Larwen would be watching, and he would not care for defeat once again. The next time, Maeve would have no choice but to fight until the last Perfected stood standing, or succumb to dust before the Fae. How bittersweet it all was...

With the Stolen retreating before the mad strike of the Sullied swarm, the significantly reduced Unsullied armies permitted themselves a sigh of relief before quickly forming up and swiftly retreating for the safety of their forest home. The Sullied continued to fight, groups breaking off an giving chase to the retreating Stolen, screaming obscenities and pledging bloody vengeance. Eventually, however, the Mistress of the Sullied Court at the Anathema Heights reigned her subjects in and sent a messenger to the Unsullied, inviting them out to parley.

'Parley! With dirty Sullied?' some exclaimed, but Brentylwith the King flew with a small guard of honour and met the Mistress. A tall, female Sullied of green complexion, four-armed and and legless (for legs she had a single appendage that somewhat resembled a tail), she was everything that an Unsullied was not. With large eyes of complete gold and a mouth in each of her two cheeks, her face was in itself an unnerving sight.

'Hail, Brentylwith the King,' she spoke, 'I am Fiula, daughter of Asula the Matriarch, Mistress of the the Sullied Court at the Anathema Heights. My greeting is peace, my offer assistance, my foe is your foe and I would avail myself of your strength as you would be well-advised to avail yourself of mine.' It was clear that she had no interest in frivolous talk and had no desire for these discussions to take longer than the absolute minimum necessary - mutual foe or not, the Sullied and Unsullied were by no means natural or easy allies.

'You have my thanks, Mistress Fiula, I believe that my standing here is owed to you,' spoke the considerably battle-worn King. 'Your assistance is appreciated, and I would be a most foolish King if I refused the assistance of one who has already offered it freely. Though I do not deny the mutual hostility of our two races, yet this Stolen foe is a danger to us and more than us - to nature on which we all depend. I would ally with you and fight by your side, Fiula of the Sullied.' And it was a thing agreed.

For her part, Tingalina had disappeared deep into the forest the moment she had disentangled herself from the battle, searching for a place of darkness and warmth to bury herself a while and forget her very existence. And she found just such a place in a cave who entrance was nearly entirely concealed by greenery, and the inside of which was a humid mess. She lay on the ground, burying her face into the warm cave wall and bringing her arms about her head and her knees to her chest. And she remained in that way for a long time, replaying the events of the battle and the words that Rowan - Maeve? - had spoken.

Even now it was surreal - the idea that Rowan could have spoken those words was both cause for joy and misery. It was so clear she was in there, so clear that despite everything they had done to change her they could not change her quintessence. And yet she was not entirely Rowan - this Maeve was eating at her, burying her, suffocating her. Tingalina turned her head from the wall and looked in the darkness towards the cave ceiling, and though her eyes were teary there was a sudden hardness there.

For next time, if Newygnong was not close by to truly fix her, she would stop at nothing to set her Rowan free.



A couple of days had passed since the forces under Maeve had attacked the Unsullied Fae, victory had almost been assured but the untimely arrival of the Sullied Fae sent the victory well out of Maeve's grasp. But she did not care about that. No, she cared for more of her failure with Tingalina. The Perfected sullied had retreated to the base of the Anathema's licking their wounds and preparing for the final assault upon their cousins. Maeve had wandered to a nearby stream, the life here slowly warping to suit the host of the Perfected, for she willed it so, but the stream remained untouched. Clear cool water, gently flowed across shiny stones and pebbles. The very noise itself one might find relaxing, but Maeve, she sat huddled at the edge, her long arms wrapped around her body and legs. Her face was tilted to look at the water, but she was not seeing it, for her thoughts blinded her.

Tingalina consumed her, drowning her in the loss of losing the one she loved. Where once Maeve thought she had not missed her, their meeting had stoked the fires that had brought them together so long ago. Maeve had always missed Tingalina, there was no denying that now. Her laugh, her comforting embrace...Her very smile. yet at the same time, Maeve knew this to not be right, for Tingalina was not Perfected. She was imperfect, the little Fae did not have Larwen's gift, but then why did she miss her so? Why would she not call her Maeve? Rowan was gone, she was but a memory of a person. A shell that contained Maeve, like a caterpillar before the beauty of a butterfly, she had been what emerged from the Forge. Better and new.

Rowan had liked butterflies. The thought came uninvited, like an insult slapped in her face.

Maeve lurched forward and smacked the water with one of her skeletal hands, sending droplets flying. A few Perfected Fae turned their heads to look, and quietly flew away, not wanting to involve themselves with their Queen. Anger coursed through her like fire, her luminous white glow turning a light shade of red, before returning to milky white. Her clawed fingers tore into the dirt before her as she looked into the water. 'I was born anew.' She said aloud angrily, 'Pure. Rowan is the past. She is dead. DEAD!' Maeve yelled, slapping the water again. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw fiery red hair in the reflection and the droplets of water, but it vanished, leaving her in doubt. Her anger cooled, leaving only sadness behind.

She fell back on the green grass, and where she touched, the ground began to blacken slowly. She looked up into the sky, not knowing what to do. The war had to be won, that much was certain. But the combined might of both Sullied and Unsullied? It was unheard of that they would even join together. But to fight side be side against the Perfected? She no longer felt confident at her chances of success, there would be a great loss of life, not like she cared- but would Larwen? Then there were the two sword wielders, Brentylwith and this newcomer, Newygnong. The very name felt disgusting, this red haired warrior that Tingalina had spoken of. Why had TIngalina thought to seek out her help? What could she possibly do? Jealousy crept inside Maeve's heart, making itself at home, for this Newygnong sounded like the culprit that had poisoned the mind of Tingalina.

Maeve sat up. It made sense now that she thought of it, who else would teach the Fae how to fight besides the Goddess? Had the Goddess sent this champion to the Fae to help them in their plight? This Newygnong, this creature, she had hardened the hearts of the Fae into warriors, she trained them into knives. She had taken Tingalina from her. She would pay. Yes, and when she lay dead before Maeve, only then would Tingalina see. Only then would her love open her heart to Maeve once more. Only then...

Maeve plucked a yellow flower next to her, holding it gently in her hands. It was small, yet reminded her of Tingalina. A Tingalina who she knew before the war, one soft and innocent. And Maeve slowly watched as the flower's stem darkened, the yellow petals becoming luminous not unlike herself. It was true beauty, and Tingalina would accept Perfection in the end, it was the only way. Maeve let the flower fall to the blackened grass around her as she stood up, and floated back towards where her army waited. If she had looked behind her at the flower, she would have seen it crumble to dust...

Larwen had watched the battle between the Fae with eagerness. He had decided to view it personally, but without intervening, so he watched from high up in the sky. His body tilted horizontally and his eyes scanning everything that was going on. It had been going so well, but when Maeve had stopped fighting to talk to a small Fae, a mix of anger and curiosity swelled up inside of him. What was her obsession with this imperfect creature? They touched each other, even held hands and it dawned upon him slowly. Aella came to mind as he watched Tingalina and Maeve, two lovers caught up in war. 'One like me, the other not, how tragic it must be for them', he sadly thought. But this was problematic, for Larwen had been the first to see the Sullied Fae on their way to battle, and Maeve, now dragging the Fae with her, was oblivious to the danger. And then it was over, his forces lost. Larwen lingered longer, having watched the Unsullied and Sullied meet before slipping back to Pervanon.

Larwen was disappointed at the outcome, but knew there would be one last battle, for Maeve would not bring herself to return empty handed. Even with the Corr magic at their disposal, his forces faced another grave predicament, they would be outnumbered now. But Larwen knew what had to be done, if he was to win this battle. He bade the Zalsarix to follow, and fourteen followed him where once had been eighteen. He led them to a cave unused by anything deeper then even the Forge of Purity, and there he spoke, "I have neglected you my firstborns, my brave children. For this I can only ask for forgiveness. However, I believe I have found a solution to the problem that ails you. A gift of thanks for all that you have done." Larwen then cracked his knuckles, and with his might, he willed into existence a most peculiar creation.

Along the sides of the cave, deep red lines tore up into the walls, creating patterns not unlike what the Zalsarix had been doing with their bones, but more refined and perfect. Sat in the middle of the cave there now sat a large stone cradle. Blackened spikes twice the size of a Zalsarix ran along the sides of the stone, stretching out to touch the ceiling. The inside of the cradle glowed a deep crimson not unlike the wall symbols, and it sat within the black rock like a pool. Leading up to the the cradle there were large steps fit for a Zalsarix, and around the edge there existed a large flat surface capable of letting several Zalsarix stand about and watch. It was truly the largest creation of Larwen's to date.

Larwen then turned to the Zalsarix, "You have served me well my children, now behold your birthright, the Cradle of Zal. This is yours and yours alone, for it is a place where new Zalsarix will be born. Powerful souls will take root within the crimson liquid, and from it they will emerge strong and mighty. But alas, they will never be as strong as their forefathers, and will instead glow the shades of red within their hearts of stone. Now, you must guide them, for they are already arriving." As if on cue, a new hand emerged from the pit, another dripping red across the black stone of the cradle. Its head emerged, slightly smaller and more lithe then its progenitors, it tried to stand but fell above the steps. At this sight, several of the old Zalsarix rushed to its side, helping the smaller creature to stand.

That was most unexpected to Larwen, he had not known them to be able to care for one another, but the god watched as they huddled in a group around it, doing what they did. But Larwen did not have time to watch. He spoke again pointing to several Zalsarix, "You seven are needed in the war. Go now with haste to the Unsullied forest and meet with our forces. The rest of you, well, carry on." Larwen then left the room following the Zalsarix who would march to war. He paused halfway through the tunnel, leaning a long arm against the cool stone of the mountain. He felt... different, more attuned to his Godhood in a way that he had not known as possible. It delighted him, for he felt stronger, and he no longer felt so confined to his form. 'I can take any form now.' He realized, and a wicked smile crept up on his face.



It was not too long after Larwen left his lair, grinning wickedly as he was wont to do, that a certain red-haired goddess - following a trail only she seemed to perceive - came upon the entrance. Looking left and right, agitated by the clear presence of corruption in this place, she called out: 'Dwyni! You here?' The goddess stepped into the strange cave, her hair a source of immediate light in the sudden darkness. 'Dwyni!' she called again, stepping deeper and deeper within. The little faery's trail led, without a doubt, into this place. How she could have ended up here, Seihdhara could only guess.

Eventually she came to a strange pit frothing with a clearly vile and toxic substance, and she turned her nose up in disgust. 'By all things Dwyni, how did you even find this place?'' The goddess murmured. She sensed a movement above her and immediately looked up. There, hidden in a crack in the cave ceiling, was the undeniable winged form of a tiny faery, staring out at Seihdhara in what could only be shock.

'DWYNI!' Seihdhara cried out in pleasure, reaching out to the little thing. Releasing a happy squeal, the small fae zipped down and fluttered about Seihdhara's face, stroking her ears and pulling at her hair playfully, before eventually settling down on the Bear Mother's nose. Seihdhara gently stroked the little one's head and cooed slightly. With her beloved companion found, she turned around and began making her way out. She had not taken more than a few steps from the pit of poison, however, before a great figure - rivalling even her in size - appeared suddenly. Seihdhara frowned and took on a guarded stance.

'Larry.'

The God of Perfection had been simply musing about his new attained status when he felt the most peculiar of sensations- Another God had entered Pervanon. It seemed his mountains were a hot spot for divine intervention. Frowning heavily, he cautiously made his way to where he believed they might be. When he arrived before the Forge, blocking the path of the God, he realized it was none other than Seihdhara herself. She looked much the same, naked as he, with long flowing locks of red hair, that illuminated the forge further. His frown became a blank stare, and the only question that came to mind- was why? Why would his sister be here if not to antagonize him further?

"I now know where your son found his impeccable sense of curiosity, sister." Larwen started in a tone devoid of any emotion. "But unlike Telum, who decided to sneak his way inside, you walked in quite brazenly. I admire that. So, what do I owe this most prestigious visit from the Goddess of War? Have you come to destroy me at last? Tell me how wicked I am for taking your Fae? You can blame Lasis for that." Larwen finished with a hint of anger in his voice. It had all started with her. Well, perhaps he would finally have his test subject after all. Seihdhara only frowned in confusion.

'You mean... you brought Dwyni here? Why would you do that - you know Dwyni is mine.' The faery settled atop Seihdhara's head and looked at Larwen with an expression of clear irreverence. 'I don't much care who you're taking and doing whatever it is you do to things, but Dwyni is mine and you had no right to take her from me.' With a hostile look, she made to move past Larwen and leave this horrid place.

Larwen was slightly confused, he did not know what a Dwyni was, he had been referring to her Unsullied and Sullied Fae, but somehow Seihdhara believed him to have taken her. Larwen supposed it really didn't matter in the end, but he began to open his mouth to protest her assertion when she tried to bolt past him. Larwen moved in front of her with quick speed, growing saddened that she would leave so soon. Larwen spoke then, his voice almost sorrowful, "I am sorry Seihdhara, but for our siblings' sins against me, and for those of your very own son, who have all escaped my punishment, I cannot let another go. Forgive me, sister, I did not wish it to be you in such a place as this but soon you will be like me, and all will be forgiven." Larwen then tried to grab Seihdhara with is claws around her right forearm, and then, drag her to the pit.

Though him grabbing her was a clear act of aggression, Seihdhara did not feel immediately threatened at all - who could hope to truly post a threat to her, after all? She only raised an eyebrow as the surprisingly strong Larwen dragged her back into the cave. 'What, you still think that you can put me out, that I'll descend into a heap of ash? Give up on your delusions, Larry, this isn't a flame you can just put out.' And with that, she brought the arm he was grabbing up against his chest and, leaning forward, pushed him back with a short strong shove. Larwen felt the impact from the strong Goddess, as it sent him falling backwards into stone. 'And don't you know it's bad manners to force yourself on a lady? You need to work on your flirting technique!' She laughed.

He grimaced, standing up to his full height once again, a low hiss emanating from his throat. "Put you out? No dear one, I only wish to brighten your flames further. The Forge will show you true enlightenment, and this petty fight will be but the start of a beautiful future. Come now, don't be like this, I only want to improve you." Larwen stated in a silky voice. Every word he said was true, he no more wished to snuff out her flame than to harm Aella. Larwen only wanted Seihdhara to be like him, was that so hard to ask? Larwen then held out a hand to her, "Where are my manners? This is correct, you will have to forgive me again. I will only ask once, will you not join me? Become something greater in Purity? Please, I beg you."

'Well, I guess you do have manners after all. But no Larry, I'm pretty happy as I am - we're your siblings, not your playdough, take us as we are.' A golden mist seemed to suddenly become clearer and more defined around her, and it coagulated into the form of a silver shortsword with a pommel in the shape of a roaring bear's head. 'Now I'm going to leave, forget your delusions of "punishing" me. If you try to stop me I'll be doing more than pushing you.' And with a final wary look, she turned and made for the cave's entrance at a swift trot.

Larwen's long hand dropped at the start of her words, shaking his head slightly by the time she finished. The sword was a deterrent to him, with Willbreaker now out of his hands but there were other ways to subdue a Goddess. "So be it." he whispered. From the palm of his left hand came a small ball of concentrated perfection and with his right hand he went to grab Seihdhara again. He did not know what was about to happen, and the moment he touched Seihdhara's skin, Aella flashed before his eyes and he reeled back. His eyes now going wide, as a humming began in his head, a pale light was distant in his vision. The memory had returned, stronger then ever before. On his touch, Seihdhara turned on him with a sudden fury, her face morphing very suddenly into a monstrous visage and her form growing threefold, red fur exploding everywhere.



'BACK OFF!' came her dreadful, sonorous growl, and with a vicious, powerful, and swift movement that was over before Larwen had completely registered it, she skewered him through the chest with the sword. The force of the strike alone caused the ground beneath Larwen to explode into dust, and the god was forced from her sight, Ursus Mater still impaling him, as the singular assault sent him flying into the depths of the cave. The sudden display of divine force shook the mountains, and outside the horrific sound of the world breaking pierced the heavens, and the earth shook and Mount Pervanon trembled.

With that, the Crimson Goddess turned and - in a few lithe strides - exploded from the cave in a flurry of red hair. Twisting up into the air, the feminine form of Seihdhara was revealed unblemished and fair. Except for her right arm, which was black and blue and writhing and sickly, its surface bubbling like a mudpot. Seihdhara stared at her arm in horror and saw that the corruption was growing aggressively. Her ascent into the heavens faltered and she found herself circling about the pinnacle of Pervanon before she landed on it with a grunt. Her entire arm was now consumed, and the corruption was growing up her shoulder and sending snaking tendrils up her neck and right breast.

Coughing, and finding that ichor and corruption emerged, she released a great wail that echoed across Galbar, that echoed even into the soundless spaces beyond the stratosphere, echoed even where Axnas sat in silent vigil. And the hair of the Crimson Goddess went up in flames, and Dwynen cried out in fear and grief as Seihdhara forcefully burned - it was better far to burn out with the cry of freedom than to buckle and fade away a slave. And her skin flayed and ichor sprang up into the heavens and was carried on clouds to far and distant lands and places, and it mixed with souls and with the Ley, and everywhere the ichor of the goddess landed there grew a Blood-head; Seihdhara's crowning gift to the world. And her face hardened and became a warmask of fire-burned wood.

And the body of the goddess burned, and her ichor became a rain of blood, and her brilliant fiery hair...



Larwen had looked at his sister like a child who made a mistake, and as Seihdhara's form changed, he did not have time to react as she impaled him. He felt the very rock break and crack as the force of the impact sent him like a meteor into the dark depths of the mountain. He knew not where he was when he at last opened his eyes, for a daze had taken him in the blackness. He tried to move, but Larwen was stuck to stone with Seihdhara's sword still embedded in his chest. He vaguely tried to grasp the sword, realizing that his ball of perfection was no longer in his hand. That was odd, then again, the impact must have knocked it away. Or maybe...

Then he heard Seihdhara's wail, that terrible wail- it broke the haze that fogged him. With it came a coldness unbearable, the ball of perfection... It had gone to her. Larwen could feel it consuming her godly essence, snuffing her flame out. It was a terrible mistake, how could he be so foolish? Panic overtook him then.

"No... no, no, no, no!" Larwen screamed trying to rip the sword out of him, but his efforts were futile, for he lacked both strength of mind and body to be able to do so. Such weakness did not stop him from struggling with the it however, trying so desperately to free himself, so he could get to her in time. Pale tears streamed down his face as it dawned on him he could not move. His voice was but a broken cry now, "I... I can fix you...sister. Please. I just... I just need...help." His struggling ceased quietly as he realized what had been done- a kinslaying. Larwen could feel her slowly dying, until she was nothing but flame and it was all his fault. He, who had not wanted to be alone with his perf- his corruption, he had committed a most heinous act.

"Seihdhara... no... That was... That wasn't supposed to happen...I-I'm so sorry..."

Larwen's voice then faded, the only sound around him were his tears hitting the cold stone below, a stark reminder that he was alone, contemplating the monster he truly was.



And in the skies, not far from where the death of a goddess would soon be declared, the warring mortal hordes gathered once more. With seven Zalsarix at her side, and her eyes set unswervingly on victory, Maeve floated at the head of her cacophonous horde of Perfected Fae, and swarming before her were the united forces of the Sullied and Unsullied, conches blaring and commands sounding. They were confident, for they had achieved victory twice before and were almost certain that now, with their great numbers and training and discipline and weaponry, they would be undefeated once more. A certain euphoria filled the hearts of the Sullied and Unsullied, and they did not think much of death but thought only of the vengeance they would wreak on these Stolen fae.

With three-thousand at his back, and four-thousand standing ready behind Newygnong, and the great horde of Sullied that numbered over ten-thousand, the forces resisting corruption stood ready. Then a conch sounded suddenly and, raising Purity high, the crimson-haired Newygnong ordered her troops forward. Unafraid to do her mother's bidding, she led from the front, roaring warcries as she dashed forth. And even as she did, in the distance the earth could be heard to shake and the mountains seen to tremble.

Maeve gripped Willbreaker tightly as she saw the crimson-haired demon Newygnong in the distance. She screamed a war cry in return, and the Perfected Fae charged at the Unsullied and Sullied, from the air and from down so far below. The Zalsarix had been a surprise, the meaning of their presence quite clear to her, they were to help win and nothing less. It was a dissapointment that Larwen did not think her capable of final victory, but she would not misuse the Zalsarix, for Maeve could feel it in her body. This would be the final battle, one way or another. The tall Fae charged at the front of her forces, Corr magic flew past her, hitting the first Fae and sundering them to dust. She came in swinging Willbreaker, crumpling the advanced charge of the Fae and sending them reeling before fresh troops took their place.

While the battle had started, Maeve kept a close look out for TIngalina, for she would find her and take her this time. If this was to be the final battle, then Maeve would have her love by her side, for better or for worse. The only way to find Tingalina without searching, was to face the Demoness in battle, this Newygnong. Maeve would break her, or everything would be for naught. She had much to prove, not to Larwen or even Tingalina, but to herself. She charged towards Newygnong, killing Fae left and right on her path. The crimson-haired warrioress saw the skeletal Maeve immediately and, hefting Purity, dashed towards her with a great cry, and sword met mace.

This time, unlike when Newygnong had clashed with Brentylwith, the warrioress had a better grasp of her sword's powers and no great blast ensued. Circling lithely around the enemy commander, she speared at her neck with Purity.

The force of the blow caught Maeve off guard, she had no realized the demon would be so strong! She barely had time to dodge, half flying, half falling backwards to avoid the blow of the sword, still the tip touched her face, and agony went throughout her body. It burned with a power unknown to her, and it sent a pang of fear throughout her limbs, Maeve would have to be careful with this opponent. She clutched at the mace with one hand, willing it to send out his influence of domination, no matter how effective it would be on the demon. She hoped for any advantage, and swung with a fury once more, hoping to crush the creature across her chest.

Fearlessly, Newygnong leapt forth to meet her foe's strike, the ultimate weapon of corruption facing off against the great weapon Purity, the great corruptor facing the Purifier. But in the split second before their weapons clashed once more, a horrific sound of thunder seemed to split the world, leaving everyone frozen and aghast. It was momentary, five seconds, ten seconds perhaps, and everyone swiftly returned to the fray. Everyone, that is, bar Newygnong, whose beautiful crimson hair had suddenly become as white as snow. She drifted in the air before Maeve, shock clear on her face, her suddenly weak grip loosening and tightening around Purity's hilt.

The thunder came abruptly, quieting the field of battle, and stopping Maeve in her tracks. She looked for the source, but found nothing and as the battle started up again, she saw the demon's hair turn white, her face stricken with shock. Now was her chance, and Maeve swung Willbreaker high into the air, and brought it quickly down about Newygnong's chest. There was a sickening crunch of carapace breaking, a small shock wave ripping through the air, and then the warrior began to fall, leaving Maeve but watching, relishing in the moment. Now Tingalina was her's, and she would truly see her greatness, her love.

And a trail of blood followed in the falling Newygnong's wake, her eyes glazed over and her hair whipping about her as her body tumbled head over heels, twisting and turning in its earthbound trajectory. Purity was released from her grasp and for a few moments fell by her side, as if in mourning. And then the distance between them grew and the sword stopped its descent altogether, and began to rise. In the chaos of the aerial battle, the golden-haired Tingalina watched in dumb shock the fall of Newygnong.

But it could not be Newygnong. The one who fell had white hair.

And Purity rose with sudden speed, shrinking and morphing to fit the grasp of the one who would wield it- him now. And the voice of the Livingsword sounded, and it was -



And she dashed across the aerial battlefield towards Maeve, loosing a shriek of demented fury. On the aerial field of death, former-lovers met in death-duel.



And it was all for naught.

Brentylwith the King, Seihdhos at his side, stood watching the long, winding columns of fae that now made their slow flight, stretching out to the distant horizons. The haggard King looked where, in the distance, the skeletal figure of the ultimate victor stood watching their flight. His jaw tightened and he bent his head as his mind turned to the slain. To Elabeen and Fylmira, to more fae than could be counted, to Fiula the Mistress of the Sullied. To Newygnong, whose corpse even now lay on a purified spot north of what was once the Unsullied forest at the Anathema Heights, her sword Purity buried in the earth by her where it had fallen when all was lost.

The defeated and broken King released a long, tired sigh and turned away from it all, following the refugees who now sought shelter in homes other than their's. Where was there to turn? Before them was endless desert, endless desert, and death. They had dwelt safely in the earth beneath their forest and known only bliss, but now--



And where would they go, those who had lost their home? Where would they turn?

---

After flying for days on end, Telum decided to temporarily give up on his search for warriors worthy of his blades. Stopping, he pondered the issue, for hours he waited, and thought, and thought, and thought... Yet his careful contemplations bore no fruit, "Perhaps I should try a different approach," Telum thought. Slowly crossing his legs into the lotus positoon, Telum began to meditate, aligning himself with the energies and flow of the world around him. Deep in meditation, he began to hear the very Souls of the world, their song was that of a gentle hum, a hymn on summer breeze. Following their tender chorus, Telum was led to what could have only been the work of a god.

Below him there was a large area that seemed to not have been formed by nature, but by design. Fields of flowers and gorgeous forests started to become more and more common the closer he got to the node of the flow of souls he felt, until finally it gave away all pretense of being a forest and turned into a garden with fountains, pathways and a few spread temples built from marble. The construction itself was simple, but, at this point one was deep within the landscape created to surround the temple, enhancing the location through an all-senses experience. One temple in particular seemed to have unusual energies emanating from it, not only from the goddess of souls, but someone else. Slowly decending to the ground, Telum once again donned his disguise, and concealed his presence. Making his way into the unique temple, he found himself staring at a magnificent fountain; adorning this font were depictions of many unrecognized figures, whom Telum assumed were other gods, yet, for some strange reason, Telum himself, was not. Puzzled, Telum waited, hoping whomever created these depictions would return and explain this to him.

"And who would you be?" the goddess asked, she had been there observing the fountain all the time, though on the last few moments she became more interested in the sight of the wanderer. She could slightly take a few clues from the resonance of his soul, but she felt a more direct question would be the most diplomatic choice.

Realizing he was not alone in the room, Telum slowly turned to face this new voice, "I am but a simple traveler," he replied, "The depictions of this font, they intrigue me, could you perhaps explain it's design?

"This mountains is too steep for simple travelers." she told, making it clear she did not believe his words in any sense, even if her facial expression did not have a hint of doubt, or anything else. "This fountain was gifted to me by the goddess Aella, it depicts all gods that we that knew about, though some might have gone unnoticed and therefore not pictured."

"Would you mind telling me about them? I know little of the gods, and wish to be enlightened."

"I would mind. Many gods to talk about, not worth the effort. Why should I explain anything to someone who conceals so much?ll

Chuckling, Telum dropped the cloak concealing his godly form, "Would it not be wrong to deny me knowledge of my kin?

"A god, not surprising, the options were few." the goddess analyzed, looking at the man up and down. "Still, there are so many other gods, and I fear I have little to say about them. Mater Lei is the one who was here first, I do not know if she is a deity of anything. Promus was with her from the beginning, he is a patron of civilization, acts like a leader. After those two, I was the first to arrive, bringer of souls, creator of the Fae. Then there was Kikoquatl, ever hungry goddess. Seihdhara and Larwen, who you already know. Grimloq of rage and dragons. Orfai, of secrets, but mostly of the ocean. Lasis, the rebel. Aella the kind, who made this fountain. Gremju the challenger. Ipeyr bringer of life. Pelegath of rot. Césure Virgule, god of death and sneaky behavior..." she sat on the fountain's side. "And others, I tire, too many words, more than what I am willing to give, you could use your own perception to judge each god.

"Now, if you do not mind, I was also curious as to why there seems to be such a high concentration of souls here; as that is what caught my attention in the first place." Telum said, nodding at Kap Gam's previous statement.

"Bad listener." Kap Gam shook her head for a moment before continuing. "I am the bringer of souls, I created the Ley which serves as way for souls to fill this universe. This land serves to regulate the pathway of the Mycelium, the great network of all Ley on the world, therefore, it has a larger resonance of souls than all others regions."

"Then I propose a deal," Telum said with a pause as he paced about the room, "If, you allow me to make a small.... -addition... to your 'Ley', I will create for you a weapon of increadible power."

"The deal is of my interest. I have one weapon, but it is one of too much cruelty, one that is only justified in front of the worst of crimes. However, you will need to let go of the vagueness of your words. A simple gift would not corrupt my duty as the guardian of souls, and while I do not see malice in your aura, I must make sure the flow of souls will not be used for selfish or vile intent and that the sanctity of souls will be respected."

"You see, I am a god of weapons, and as such, I only gift my creations to great warriors.... Which, as you might guess, are currently in short supply. Without them I am purposeless, so how can I fix this? Telum replied as he held a piece of Ley in his palm, "Souls..... They are the essence of all creatures, yes? I seek to create souls destined to do great things... warriors, heroes......Legends"

The goddess pondered for a moment, staring blankly at him, before nodding one single time. "I would say your problem is more on the lack of civilizations than the lack of heroic souls, yet, your intentions seem noble. I will allow for you to continue with your project." more heroic souls would surely not bring anything bad to the world, after all, and the goddess trusted that the Ley would naturally make it so no soul was forced into legend, but simply amplify the ones destined for great things.

The Ley in Telum's hand began to glow, the god shaping it within his hands as if it were putty, stretching it; molding it. Before long, the glowing mass took the the shape of an ornately decorated bow. As the glow began to fade, Telum presented Kap Gam with her new weapon "This, is legion; the bow of souls...." he said with a solemn look on his face.

Accepting the gift, the goddess took it into her hands, feeling the weight of it, understanding the object she had been given. It was curious how her particular style for artifacts had been emulated in this, if one where to look at the dormant Hydra they would have a hard time picking the subtle differences in design. "Good work. This will do." she told. Upon touching the bow, one of the souls within it turned into a single Fae, the goddess fired the arrow upon the air and it turned into many more shots, each hitting targets with great precision, before vanishing and returning to the bow.



Giving Kap Gam a smile and nod, Telum stepped out of the temple, and strode over to a patch of Ley. Summoning a blade, Telum slowly pulled it's edge across his palm. Discarding the blade, he clenched his hand into a fist, allowing for several drops of his blood to fall upon the fungus, as each drop hit the Ley, a faint red pulse of energy could be seen flowing across all Ley in creation, that small cluster as it's epicenter. "May my blessing upon your creation create many gre-" before he could finish his statement, a feeling of powerlessness flooded Telum; his chest filling with an insurmountable dread. His crimson aura suddenly sputtered and died as the god fell to his knees, clutching his chest. The world around him blurred, and went silent.... Something horrible had happened.... His mother..... HIS FAMILY... was in grave danger. Without another word, Telum shot into the sky, the ground where he had stood buckled and cracked as he took off; leaving a crater in it's place.

It was like snow, falling in the deepest of night.

Little corpses of littlest things, tiny skeletons of the first life, sinking from the top of the ocean to its bed. For a long time, these had been the universe's only heartbeat, its final survivor and first re-coloniser. In a way, they still were. Here in the uncreated place, the godless were king.

Mater Lei touched her glove to the water and a wisp of shadow entered the depths. Like a smoke coil it twisted, realigning itself into form after form, none of them finished and all of them vague. "...What do you think?" she asked the other god standing with her, in this small patch of light in the Abyss.

He did not love the darkness. Here, far from the prying eyes of easily frightened mortals, Promus abandoned his mundane and human veneer to bare his true flesh. From the light of the stars within his celestial body, a larger part of the endless abyss was illuminated.

When the dark once more cowered beyond the edge of his aura, he answered Lei, "Intent must come first. A tool's shape is best selected by vocation, and only after it is made to function should aesthetic be served."

He cast a rigid eye towards the shadowy forms that she nonetheless continued to flickers before him, until one caught his interest. "Freeze."

He held the figurine of magically stilled shadow and twisted it about to examine the contours. "With some alterations to offer increased survivability, this one could be useful as a bottom feeder. It could crawl across the floor and feast upon the dead flesh that rains down, and then predators from above could feast upon it, and so the cycle returns the energy and elixirs of life to the warmer and brighter waters above."

"...With some..." Lei watched the spinning creature, paused its motion, started pinching its surface into fine spires. "Alterations... for survivability." When she was done, she'd worked the little blip into a many-rayed black star, its tube feet hidden beneath its body, blue spots of bioluminescence peeking from between the spines. She set it gently on the pale ooze, and it began to amble, swaying its rays as it crept across the sludge.

"..."

It looked abysmally lonely.

"...I think I just made an orphan," she said, picking up the little urchin before it could spend another minute on its own, holding it in her palms. More sprouted from the sludge. "Here, now it has a family." She didn't put it down, though. The sound of the little herd lumbering along on their little feet, infinitesimally quiet, somehow put the scale of the task into context.

"I think, in order to make any sense of this kind of task, an element of chaos needs to be involved," she suggested. "Not explosive- I mean, not necessarily- but something that adds spontaneity." She waved a hand, and under the cloud of silt she raised, a pool of heavy brine took shape. Warm and nutritious. "It's a melancholy place. I think some esotery would suit it."

Esotery.

What an interesting concept--esotery. Why would someone ever want to keep something a secret from another? Knowledge is a free thing, is it not?

The bubbling pool of brine continued to fester behind the pair of gods, the sound of it's subtle ruptures masked by the constant humming and foreboding wails of the depths. Promus' aura did wonders to cast away the encroaching darkness that surrounded the pair, but it was bright enough to blind the two of what was being nurtured beneath their feet. A spark of life rushed through the water and the grain, hoping to conjure something. No god could sense any spirit within the floors of the abyss, but there was something.

Something had just been made. It could not think, or speak, or perceive. It was not conscious, and to some it may not even be life. But, this was a slumbering thing, sleeping beneath the hubris of gods.

It sat in the void of the darkest depths, waiting for nothing.

Meanwhile, Promus found himself stooping to claim a handful of the silty sand upon the ocean's floor. It would do. He glanced sideward to watch Lei as she went about her work, he could aid her in a moment. Right now the sage was consumed by another desire.

A divine word brought before him a great volume of the silty clay, and with another he compressed it into a many-faced tablet that was denser and more durable than any natural stone. And then he whispered a short tale of his birth so many thousands of years ago, and each of the words were engraved upon the obelisk the moment that they left his lips. It made for an interest and intricate bit of art. "What is your story, Lei? The whole story." he whispered with a voice that nonetheless shattered the growing silence like glass. "I do not think that you came to be in the same manner as I did."

The stirred silt drifted down, and settled long before Mater Lei recovered an answer. "I remember some of it," she choked out eventually.

r. . .
r . . e . .
. . .m - m. . .e . .m.

The most silent voice whispered from beneath the silt. Neither Lei nor Promus heard anything.

The silt moved, and in it took shape creatures, nonsensical forms of life that occupied her hands while she spoke. "When the last star had died, there were nine of us," she said. "Uriel, me, the two siblings, a fifth- we desired to repair the universe, make it whole again. A sixth, a seventh, Master Ankylos, and Takoba- they wanted to tear it down, and start anew."

"The two siblings and... and the fifth one, we sent to slay Ankylos. He swore to destroy all of them, and he kept his promise, though it killed him. Uriel went after the sixth and seventh. They... he ended them. I was the weakest of all of them, so it was my duty to face Takoba. To buy them time. We all knew I'd die. I was only a hero."

h. . . e . . .r o.

Lei raised the silt into a great cloud, and when it settled, spires of flourishing life stood thin and lofty over the ocean floor, covered in gills. "But I didn't die. I killed Takoba. I took her javelin, and I took her godhood."

"And then it was only me and Uriel. We'd won. But..." Lei's fists clenched, and she stared deep into the darkness, no longer pretending to create. "When I saw Takoba die, I realised that there was nothing in that heap of shit worth saving."

"I ended Uriel- I murdered my mentor. I burned Takoba's javelin, and restarted the universe. And now we're here."

m . . . u r . . d . . e r.

The tale scrawled itself onto the obelisk on the face opposite of the one that held Promus' simpler, cleaner, and more idyllic tale. "I did not know that it is possible to kill a god. For my brethren, it might not have been. I wonder who was stronger: your kind whose strength could fell divinities, or mine whose spirits were so immortal that we could only ever condemn one another to eternal torture and imprisonment."

"Yours," she said. "We were nothing but half-gods and avatars, all but Ankylos. Lucky survivors..." She looked up, afraid. "Was... was there no murder among your family? No gods slain by their disciples?"

"IGNITE!"

The decree was deafening, and were the duo not beneath the waves Promus' voice might have thundered across the world. Even in the frigid depths of the sea beneath so much water that light could not even reach them, there erupted a bonfire of some strange astral fire that consumed and yet gave off no warmth. There was a hint of nervousness and trepidation in Promus' eyes, but then he stuck one of his hands into the flame.

The smallest ember of the astral fire survived the torrent of water, drifting down from Promus' fervid hand and into the silt. It's no wonder what happened next; the flame of an old god would do the trick. The mind stirring within the silt suddenly opened it's 'eyes', even if it had none, for it could still see in the darkness. It could perceive things much like itself standing nearby, two of them, in fact. The quiet voice that wailed beneath the surface suddenly fell silent, as if it had just realized that it was in company.

The starry and divine flesh of Promus melted in the flame and sloughed off like candlewax, even as the infantile consciousness and Lei alike watched.

"It's nothing but pain," he assured Lei, who had armed herself in fright. Even as the fire began to wane and die down, he stepped into it with his entire body so as to come closer to her. In seconds he was reduced to a skeletal husk. Thoughts echoed from his skull, for he now lacked the means to even produce speech. 'There was fire and pain and misery, but nothing so merciful or clean as death.'

He glanced at the weapon, clearly unafraid, and pulled himself closer with some heavenly force. He laid a single bony hand upon the mask that hid her face, and then his flesh began to regenerate with alarming speed. Lei tried to creep back and was unable. The thing in the silt continued to watch with great thirst.

Many moments passed in silence as hollowed eye sockets stared holes through her mask, but then Promus had his lips and tongue once again. Even as his grotesque, half-formed visage continued to right itself, he finally said, "Perhaps I should not have frightened you so. I only wanted to illustrate a point, and there are some things that not even I can put to words."

ba-bum. ba-bum. ba-bum. ba-bum.

A heartbeat in the darkness.

Lei withdrew as far as she could, stepping backwards into the dark, beyond the patch of life they had created and back into the nothing. Eventually the weapon returned down the neck of her coat. "Don't... touch me like that," she said, and realising where she was, hurried from the abyss back into the safety of his shadow. She didn't come too close. Her awe of the old god was now naked, and clothing itself swiftly with fear.

He was once renowned for his forethought, and yet he could not help but make mistake upon mistake.

Promus looked in some odd mix of shame, regret, disgust, and anger to the hand that had touched her. He clenched it so tightly that the newly forming flesh ripped and tore, but so fast was its mending that it would soon be just as before.

Behind the two, the primordial pool began to bubble and broil furiously as Promus' flesh took shape. Promus was determined, however. He couldn't notice the rising intensity of its work, and neither could Lei. They were trapped in their own drama, blissfully ignorant to the rising pressure surrounding them. A single, fleshy tentacle appendage took shape from the broiling chemicals, sliding forth out of the pool and tightly gripping a nearby sunken rock.

Then came another, and another. A vaguely humanoid arm, as well.

ba-bum. ba-BUM. BA-BUM. BA-BUMBA-BUMBA-BUM-

Promus called out to the darkness. "Your flight to the shadows pains me more than the flames ever could. O Mater, of Doors and Beginning and Endings, I beg you to return."

Lei obeyed. When she realised she had done so, she stopped. Bashful, she looked aside, and he continued.

"You alone ended my torment upon the last world, and you showed--a stranger!--showed more compassion than any of my brethren. To them, I may have been wise, but they thought me weak and inept. Maybe they were right. But my love and loyalty and service are all still yours, if you will have them."

THUNK.
THUNK.
THUNK.

Footsteps echoed in the darkness, shaking the earth and prompting the surrounding sealife to retreat from the scene. They crawled into their holes and swam away into the crevices of the earth, swimming away from the approaching noise. The darkness that once cowered away from Promus now began to encroach again, threatening to plunge the two gods in utter blackness. It stopped just a few inches away from Lei, hanging in the water in a most unnatural way.

The Mater flared, a sparking haze chewing through the dark around her head.

And then, a piercing, golden beam of light shone in the darkness, illuminating a heavyset humanoid figure standing in the shadows of the abyss. A set of long appendages unfurled from it's back, slowly floating in the water like snakes. ". . .n . . o. . . . . .no. . .h o w. . . . .how could you be loyal?", a rumbling voice shook the ocean depths, as deep and fathomable as the abyss itself. It gradually took shape as it spoke, sounding not unlike Promus' voice.

"Murder. Pain. Suffering among a. . .family. That. . .no. . .that. . .does not make sense," the figure questioned, slowly raising a hand to its head and rubbing the surface.

There was a state of shock, but it was only an instant. Promus advanced towards the strange voice with a bravery that few would expect from a robed scholar. "Show yourself, Ye who wears Darkness as a Cloak," he commanded, and it was a hard thing to resist his words. Mater Lei, for her part, had produced Yuu's rifle.

The shrouded figure halted it's pondering, the bright spotlight of it's head turning to glare at Promus. It began to stomp forward again, trembling the silt beneath it and speaking in a rumbling tone once more, ". . .I could ask you to show yourself, o King of Kings. Your intentions seem as vague and shrouded as this. . .abyss. This cold, dark home of. . .mine. Yes. . .yes, mine. . ." The thing spoke, looking down at it's hands as if it was seeing them for the first time. ". . .I wish you could understand this sensation. The burning feeling of sudden life, burning brighter than any astral fire you could conjure."

The shadows surrounding the figure finally receded as he stepped out of him, revealing a large, man-shaped thing, armored from head to toe in a suit of corroding steel. The set of tentacles sprouting from it's back appeared much larger than they were in the darkness, slowly undulating behind the lone diver as if they were their own organisms. A single glass porthole rested in the center of it's helmet, shining with an eerie yellow light. "I am not a product of natural life, though. I know this very well. . .in fact, I know many things about these depths, so many secrets. Can you hear them? The quiet whispers of these fathoms. . ." the diver looked around the dark ocean, as if it could hear it speaking to itself. It's spotlight focused on Promus again. "It seems as if they mock you and her. But, I'm not their speaker, no. . .no, not yet. I am. . .I am. . ."

The diver knocked it's helmet a few times, pondering it's own name. It trudged forward, threatening to walk into Promus, but abruptly shuffled past him, glaring up at the etched obelisk that the speech god interred within the sand. The watcher's light shone upon the stories Promus inscribed upon the obelisk, running it's gloved hand along the etchings. Stories of a murder, betrayal and inhumanity in a so-called 'family'. A tale of gods, fueled by their own hubris, creating men and creatures in their own flawed images. It was at that point the lone diver had frozen completely, disregarding Promus and Lei for what felt like an eternity of silence and brooding. Before too long, it turned it's heavy body to face Promus and Lei. The creatures and organisms that had fled from the scene before now slowly began to return and crawl forth from their sunken holes in interest and awe. Swarms of fish began to encircle the three gods, crustaceans scrambled forth from beneath the sands, tides of sea urchins and slugs slid out from seemingly nowhere, and a fleet of tentacle-laden creatures swam overhead, resting in the water above the arena of life, bearing witness to the emergence of. . .

A king - no, a god.

"I am Krosus, and this Abyss is my domain."

And to think that Promus had at first suspected this to have been Orfai, that one elusive god that had taken to the waters so quickly after making his entrance to the world.

A quick glance at the Mater, who held her rifle with silent patience, told Promus that he now spoke for the both of them. It was, after all, his Domain. "Then keep these darkest and deepest reaches, Apotheosis of the Ocean Beneath. But the obelisk before you is mine, and I would have it back."

The christened Deep King felt a ripple through it's still-forming body as it declared it's name, glaring back at the obelisk it had rested upon before looking upon it's surrogate 'father'. "You flatter me with that title. But, it will not change my. . .mission. You and her have done so much to alter these depths - imposing your vision upon the life here, creating it, even. How could I. . .t .. .trrrust. . .the words of One who so. . .easily. . frightens His own. . .kin?

Lei waved away the accusation as if it had been meant for her.

"O, how much I've s e e e e e n. . .for in my first moments of g e n e s i s, I understand so much already. Such a sad, sad. . .sad state of affairs, no?" Krosus wrapped one of it's tentacles tightly about the obelisk, fondling it with great interest. ". . .y o o o u. . .you are like a. . .f . .faaaaather. To m e e e e," Krosus mused, his voice dragging along and leaving a chorus of echoes in the depths. It only occurred then that the voice of Krosus was as much a wailing noise in the ocean as it was a quiet whisper in the corners of their minds, scratching the surface of their ears and begging to be let in. "You made a great mistake coming to this place. You've. . .breached the d a r k n e s s , now you. . .wish to take away my. . .only scrap of knowledge from the Surface Above."

"How. . .intereeeesting. How much of that. . .hubris. . .commands you. . .P r o o o m u s s s. . ." the Son hissed the name of it's incidental creator, looking upon his inscriptions upon the obelisk with his unblinking eye.

Krosus and his provocations were met with an advance by Promus. It left him standing squarely between his Lei and this monstrous being that had coalesced in the dark, but his reforming flesh did not quiver. The slow, exaggerated sound of his own name made Promus stiffen more than any of Krosus' other slights. The god's tone had always been soft and melodic, save for when he had roared that terrible word that ignited the flame...

But now his voice was rising, and it grew as a storm that could have swept up resolve and thrown back terror. Sealife far from those three gods heard the scattered at the sound while the playful currents shivered. "You try my patience, Being of Black and Fevered Tides. If I were truly driven by the hubris that you see, I might have already brought down the fury of my voice; yet words of violent power are words wasted. Surrender the stone."

Krosus didn't falter in the face of Promus' advance, rather it remained eerily still like a corpse, turning and staring at it's creator through a watery visage. "O, creators. How quick to temper. I cannot imagine the. . .things. . .that lurk on the Surface Above. . .your creations, made in such a. . .f l a a a a w e d image." Just then, a second and third tentacle unfurled from the blackness, tightly coiling around the obelisk and beginning to constrict. "I will give you this piece of rock that nature had so intended to reclaim, my. . .f a a a t h e r. On the condition that you show me the same. . .so-called loyalty and love you speak of."

He calls me...Father? The tablet is not worth blood.

"You, nor her, nor any God, Man or Beast, will ever step in these hallowed depths for as long as I serve the waves. Swear on this. . .and I will surrender your stone, and you will never meet my glare on the Surface Above, o King of Kings. You do this. . .or, you can simply k i i i i l l me and claim the depths and the stone for your own. Is that what you would do? Would the essence of communication and speech resort to such. . .barbarism. . .slaying, fearing and hating what He cannot fathom to understand? I truly don't know. . .do y o o o o o u?"

_{"O, Child of the Mind...}

"You are right; I allowed a wroth temper to take hold, and now it too can be listed among my regrets.

"But for the love and loyalty that you ask, you must learn that such things are not bought--especially not with tokens that were never your to peddle. But I am decided: you may keep the tablet. Have it from me as a gift, a sign of good faith. There are many gods for which I cannot speak, but for myself I will make the pledge to witness your sovereignty here and respect the deeps."

As if on cue, the last of the Heavenly's Sage's celestial flesh had returned and his body was once more just as it had been before he entered the sea, before his mind and heart had been laid bare.

"I think that it is best that we part paths, for now. I will meditate upon what has been said and humbly suggest that you do the same."

Without another word he offered his hand to Mater Lei and turned to Phlegra's seashore far above. She took it, and nodded to the golden mask. "Welcome to my world, o watcher in the dark," said Lei. With a wave of her hand, the waters stilled, and a far-ringing silence escaped from her in a slow wave, granting Krosus the privacy he desired- for a time. "We will meet again soon, you and I. May your life be kinder to you than your birth."

And so the Speaker and the Matron departed. 'Thank you,' she whispered to the Speaker. 'Your love and loyalty mean more to me than you know.'

The Deep King watched in silence as they departed, escaping the darkness cast over the murky waters by his very presence. Something of a gluttonous chortle echoed in and out of the abyssal crevices as Krosus gave another look at the Heavenly Sage's tablet. It was his first memento of the real world, and a framework from which he should construct his kingdom. Though, there was nothing saying that the Watcher in the Dark abides by the creed of surface-dwellers. The obelisk was torn from it's place in the sand and dragged along with Krosus as he turned and descended deeper and deeper into the ever-expanding watery arcades before him.

And as he left to build his domain, he spoke in a voice that shook the waters across the visible world.

Regulus sighed. His Sylvans need the ability to speak in order to function as a society, and yet his power reserves were beginning to run dry, and this would not be the best time to invite Promus over. He took some time to think about this situation, taking consul from Yggdrasil. "Aurum" he called, and the young golden Sylvan ran into Yggdrasil's chamber. "You wish to see the world of you creation.", to which the young Sylvan nodded. Regulus paused, before taking his spear and gently tapping it on the Sylvan's head. "You will be my ambassador to the other gods. I need you to go and speak with Promus." he paused, thinking of his poor choice of words. "He should grant you and your siblings the gift of speech craft. Once he does, ask him what he would have you do for his gift."

Aurum, newly appointed as a hero, absorbed every word that Regulus said, and simply nodded in response. Regulus sighed, and handed him his sacred spear, Anhur. "Use it well." he said, waving his hand teleporting him back to Galbar into the cave of his creation. He slowly walked out of the cave, looking around curiously, and when he did, a flash of divine light flashed from the spear like a signal flare, causing a nearby griffin to come to him. He felt the words of Regulus guiding him, "Take the griffin to sky. It will lead you to where you need to go.". a saddle appearing on the back of the griffin. Aurum nervously got on. He had seen griffins before, but this would be his first time riding one. As he did, the griffin took off.

The journey was not a quick one, swift though the griffin was. But as it beat its wings it surely made progress, and after some time it brought its rider to the volcanic plains of Phlegra. Below it could be seen the lumbering cyclopes, some sleeping with a stillness that might have made one take them for mere rocks were it not for the fire and smoke of their slow breathing. Some of the other cyclopes entertained themselves through throwing stones the size of a horse's head or by wrestling with one another. But the griffin ignored them as it made its descent towards the rough seashore, and Aurum found himself landed upon a basalt pillar beside Promus. The Sage seemed so fixated upon the waves that he had hardly noticed their arrival, but the griffin's tumultuous landing was enough to draw his attention. The robed figure of Promus turned to look upon those who had sought him out, and Aurum was faced with a visage that resembled a bird's and yet had eyes of intelligence.

Aurum looked around this strange environment with curiosity, though the robed figure immediately pulled his attention. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the figure, but it was most certainty interesting. And apparently this was where he was suppose to be. He held the spear tightly, and was holding it upside down as he had no idea how to use a spear. He wasn't exactly sure what he was suppose to do, so he just began to tap the point of the spear on the ground as if would do something.

That action was met with a quizzical look from the god, but then curiosity took hold and he approached. "That weapon is not of your make," he finally spoke. "And yours is a magnificent steed. Have you come to bear the message of Regulus?"

The hero paused. He was not fully sure the answer to that question, or even how to do answer it. He started by nodding, and then shaking his head. Aurum stopped for a moment, and looked confused how to answer that question.

"Of course. You bear his spear and his steed, so clearly he holds you in high esteem. You are worthy of words, so have them. Take them."

Each breath left the avian beak of the god and manifested as clearly and as thickly as smoke, even in the warm salt-air by the sea. They all came to rest upon an outstretched palm and coalesced into a single breath that Promus offered to the Sylvan.

Aurum took the smoke, and brought it up to his face to look at it more closely, as he did, it begin to enter his nose and mouth. He instinctively began to cough, but once it was over. He felt something strange well up inside him. He looked at the god, and began to sputter out words, "Regulus... sent.. me." after another cough, his words began to flow more naturally, "Regulus sent me to ask for the gift of speechcraft for my brothers and sisters in his domain, and in exchange, I am to preform a task for you." he said, puffing out his chest and lifting up the spear.

"That gift is easily given, so it shall be yours in good faith, O Envoy of the Lion and Hand of the August Lord. But if your master offers one favor in exchange, I will gladly take it; two dozen griffins to guard the peaks of this land will be enough to settle any debt."

The hero paused for a moment, wondering if this what his master had meant when said he would do a favor for him, but the offer seemed harmless enough. He took the spear, and held it into the air, and once again a flash of light erupted from it. The saddled griffin remained still, but Aurum gave his insurance, "They are coming."

"Then your side of the bargain is upheld. Take this to your kindred."

For many minutes Promus exhaled, and this time he conjured from the air a small pouch to contain his long breath. Then it was done and a divine syllable allowed the pouch to levitate its way towards the griffin and nestle itself within the beast's mane. "I think that there will be enough for all of them, but little to spare. It will last for their lives and manifest within all of their descendants unto perpetuity, but if so much as a breath is stolen or gifted unto others, one of your kind and his lineage may be forever without a voice. So guard my gift closely, honored Envoy."

Aurum nodded. "Thank you." he said, as he went to get back on his griffin, a light spread from the sacred spear engulfing him and the griffin, and then he vanished. He reappeared in the castle, already ready to leave once again, but first he gave his brothers and sisters the gift of speech-craft.

---

How unfixable. How unmendable. How broken was existence that such series of events were fated to happen? For a moment Aella had grasped the faint glimmer of hope that the possibility of peace - however tense - brought with it. Not anymore. The glimmer turned to sand, and the sand slipped through her fingers.

She was useless, Aella realized, for a person who wasn't able to protect her family was no better than the soiled earth beneath her feet.

The Winged Goddess watched from above as the Fae performed their last march, their first and last sacred journey through the Frontier. Even as she watched, many keeled over and died, becoming dust that mixed with the dunes. Some succumbed to infection, but many simply lost the will to go on.

"Oh, you poor, poor beings..." She muttered, keeping her hands on her chest over her heart.

The only one that noticed the sudden shift in the Frontier was the most broken of them all. It was subtle, but a hazy sight had appeared over the horizon. They looked like palm trees. The broken king looked around until he caught sight of the one responsible. A being not unlike a star in plain daylight watched over them from the sky, flapping two large, beautiful white wings. The sight lasted no longer than a few seconds before the figure vanished. The sight on the horizon, however, did not vanish. It was an oasis.

---

So it was true, Aella thought with a sigh as she observed the ashes over Mount Pervanon. She had mourned from the moment she heard the screams and wails, but she didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to see it. Her sister was dead, the very first she had spoken to in this new world. Why did it have to be her? Such a free, naive spirit... Aella wiped her tears away and bit back a sob. She still had to find Larwen. She could feel him, but his essence was weak and frail, deep below.

She forced her heart to calmness and dived to the foot of the Mount, entered one of the many caves and walked, letting her own aura light up the way.

It was a while.

She'd followed the path without faltering, and found a great chamber where the very stone had been pulverized through what was no doubt an impressive show of strength. Aella gave a somber nod as she felt the remains of Seihdhara's lingering essence, reaching toward her as if not wanting to let go. Aella closed her eyes tightly and shook her head, then walked deeper into the cave. It wasn't long until she found a trail of essence mixed with ichor. It was Larwen's.

She found him much deeper in the cave, stuck to a cold stone wall thanks to the sword impaling his chest. Ichor poured from his wound. He was in danger. Aella's eyes widened and she flew to him.

Larwen felt the presence of a familiar god, one of comfort and kindness, but he did not move his head to look at her. To ashamed, too guilty to ever look upon her face once more. He knew she flew towards him, and his voice came out weakly, "You should not be here, Aella. Just... Just let me die." His blood, his ichor, it flowed softly from the wound that would not heal, as it shouldn't.

Aella had no words. What could she say, that it'd be okay? That the death, the murder, of their sister was something they could eventually leave behind? No. Aella sniffled and took hold of the sword. She gripped it tightly and, in a moment of weakness, saw a scene she'd replayed in her mind over and over again. Her brother's child, a corrupted young god, coughing up his own ichor and looking up at her in confusion, gripping the blade of the sword stuck through his gut.

She blinked the vision away and pulled the sword with all her might, releasing Larwen. Immediately, she dropped the sword and went to Larwen's side. Her armour faded away and in its place was left her silk dress as she helped him sit and let his head rest against her chest.

"Larwen, I... What happened?" She asked softly, her voice steady despite the tears she was shedding.

Larwen gasped as the sword was drawn from his flesh, and with a clang cast to the side. To his great shock, Aella had done what he had not wished, and began to help him sit. To this, Larwen shrank in size, his large horns disappearing entirely. He now stood roughly the same size as Aella, his head becoming more like a human's, his unsightly mouth replaced by that of lips, his sharp teeth becoming flat. His skin tone remained the same however, except for the wound, it now glowed a soft white. Larwen now looked as a human did, but very skinny and with eyes that glowed a pale white.

He felt her embrace, but Larwen did not feel as if he deserved such a thing, but she did need the truth- that much he could give. "A mistake... A terrible mistake. I had not wanted it to happen like that, I only wanted her to be more like..." Larwen began softly, "She came into Pervanon searching for a Fae, one dear to her, she thought I took it. I took many Fae, but not that one. I... I told her she would be punished for coming uninvited, for our siblings and nephew had gotten away from me. I asked her.. I asked her if she would take on perfe- my corruption. She refused of course, and in a moment of anger I... I summoned a ball of corruption to hand, then grabbed her. But... I reeled away as my flesh touched hers, I saw but your face and the memory that haunts me. Only then did I realize I could not go through with it. But it was too late..." A deep sadness echoed throughout his voice, "She took my act as aggression, and impaled me with that sword, sending me to the depths. I could... I could feel it consume her...somehow it jumped to her, my corruption. I felt her die. Felt her become nothing... and it was all my fault."

Larwen went silent for a moment, then finally said, "I am a monster Aella."

Aella only responded by holding Larwen close. It was very quiet, and then she sobbed. Once, twice, and she began crying as quietly as she could. Even as she cried, she wrapped her wings around the two of them.

Larwen could not comprehend why she held him closer, why she wrapped her wings around them, he was a demon that did not deserve it. But he could feel Aella begin to cry, she tried to hold it back but still it came. This, more then anything, both saddened and pained him greatly. He at last spoke, his voice again but a soft whisper, "I am... I am so sorry Aella. I will never be able to forgive myself... Your pain and grief, it should have never been allowed to exist." He stated while silent tears streamed down his face. "You should let me go... I am not deserving of this... I am a monster Aella. I am to be hated, not..." but his voice broke to silence and he Larwen did not move.

"S-Stop saying that...!" She said and sobbed, resting her face against the top of his now hornless head, "Stop, just... Stop, Larwen. I don't care if you're deserving, I don't care if you're a monster. I want to be here, with you, as we mourn for our sister together." She whimpered and let go of Larwen. As she did so, she shifted her position and ended up sitting on her knees and bowing her head down, "Please don't say you'd rather die, I don't think I could take losing you, too..." She said and sobbed, putting her hands against the stone ground.

Aella's words broke Larwen further, she had a heart full of kindness and love, and he had pierced it with an arrow through his actions. He did not object as she let go of him, and he too sat on his knees, his now human like hands resting on his thighs. To the side of Aella now, he watched with a downcast expression, slowly looking up. "That you would be here... with me...I...Thank you..." He knew not what else to say, and his voice fell silent. More then anything he wanted to comfort her, to hold her, but Larwen no longer considered himself worthy of even looking at Aella. For he had killed their sister, even now he wished it were not so. Such were his thoughts, they drowned him in agony, no relief would be had except time and time was quickly catching up to him.

She didn't know how long they were sat there, mourning, but eventually her tears had dried and she found herself emptily gazing at the ground, where a puddle of the luminiscent tears had gathered. A shake of her head later, she cleared her throat and stretched her wings. "Huh-" She began, pulling out a map from thin air and handing it to Larwen, "... I convinced Regulus to offer a chance for peace. You stay within the territory outlined on the map and he promises not to attack. The territory is all you have now plus the oasis that I gave you." She said, wiping her face.

"I'm not sure if it still stands after this... I suppose we'll have to wait and see." Aella sighed and embraced herself. "It feels so cold now without the fire..." She muttered while shivering.

The silence lasted for what felt like an age, a period of mourning, Seihdhara's death would haunt him forever. He looked upon the map that Aella handed to him, seeing the outline of the Anathema's. Where once this might have angered him, he no longer felt anything but an emptiness that ate at him. His taste for war died with his sister, Regulus' offer might stand, but that did not mean his other siblings would also agree to it. This he knew. More surprising, was that Aella had convinced him that peace might be an option. She had went through so much... and Larwen had thrown it all away.

Larwen instinctively raised a hand towards Aella, but paused, then retracted it. "I no longer have the will to wage war Aella, or to take any mortals, or to spread what I am. This peace...I wasted it. Once again, I am sorry. You have been too good to me, and I have given you nothing but heartache and grief. Her fire.. It will always be there, Aella... you just have to search." Larwen said softly.

Aella looked at him and shrugged half-heartedly, "Peace is never wasted, Larwen. There's still hope, we can still find it, but..." She bit her lip and shook her head, then stood up and offered a hand to Larwen, "I like this new appearance of yours much more, Larwen. You have eyes now." She said and forced a warm smile to her lips.

He felt the truth behind her words, peace was not possible now, not for him at least. He knew she stood up and offered her hand, and at last Larwen looked at her. His guilt festered like a bad wound, even seeing her brought about him pain, for her eyes told him more of how she felt then the smile that pursed her lips. Such a warm smile, but one that felt forced, one that looked at him like everything would be alright. Larwen knew it would not. His very act had scarred him, Aella, all the gods. They would never look at him in the same light again, he was now a cretin of the lowest order. Larwen bade no move to take Aella's hand, no matter how much he wanted to. "Aella...Your eyes tell me the grief behind your words, the sheer agony I have inflicted upon you. I am unworthy to touch you, to look at you. I...I.. should leave this world. My presence would only cause more pain to you. Telum will be coming for me now, I wish not to have you hurt more." Larwen finished, looking down at the ground once more.

Aella forcefully grabbed Larwen's hand and in the blink of an eye, they were back at the chamber with the Tree they had both created. There, she let go of him and pointed at the Tree, "We created that together, Larwen. That beautiful being wouldn't exist if not for us. Don't you think you're turning a blind eye to the good in you? The potential you have to create?" She pursed her lips and after a moment, she gently put her hands on Larwen's cheeks and made him lock eyes with her, "I am a monster too, you know. These hands that you seem to enjoy are also responsible for the deaths of so many Gods... And if someone like me can change their ways, then you can try to as well. Remember, brother, only you can decide who you are."

"Accidents happen and they're painful, but pain is a natural part of any life..."

Larwen looked up at the tree, it felt larger then ever before. He let Aella touch him, her soft hand gentle, and when they locked eyes he looked deeply into her own, "A... monster?" Larwen whispered, he could not wrap his head around the Goddess in front of him capable of murdering gods. Though she did have a point, his potential was there, but he felt as if he could no longer reach it. "I can feel it inside me... the memory that haunts my dreams, it wants me to do something... I know not what." Larwen paused, then continued, "This pain...If I had known...I would never have hurt her. It should have been me, Aella. I should have died..I will try...for her. For you."

Aella smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head against Larwen's chest, being careful not to disturb his healing wound. "Thank you for trying. As for the memory, I'm afraid I don't know what to say about that. You'll probably find out what it is you have to do in due time."

After a long while of Aella resting against him, Larwen wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. He still hated himself for what had been done, but the pain of not being able to hold her, outweighed the pain of doing so. "I know not what is now in store for me, but judgement will come in one form or another. I ask that you do not defend me when it comes, Aella. Telum was Seihdhara's child, his wrath will be great indeed. I do not want you to take anymore pain upon yourself when if it can be prevented. Please."

"I will not let him kill you, if that's what you're asking of me." Aella huffed.

"No...But he will seek vengeance upon his mother's killer." Larwen sighed, "I need to leave Galbar, Aella. For Time. Time to heal... For everyone... it's the only way to avoid more violence. More pain." And to this Larwen knew the truth, for he could not be more despised now. It was only right he go into exile, to find solitude and a sense of purpose beyond his corruption. His thoughts turned to the Zalsarix and his children, to the Perfected Ley and Fae. To Maeve. Larwen would have to abandon them, their father, to a world that would hate them. He could not take them with, for he knew not where his journey would take him.

"I-" She wanted to say he was wrong, that he should stay, but that would have been too selfish and naive. Larwen was speaking the truth and even if she didn't like it, exile was the only way he'd be safe for now. "I... Understand. I will be waiting for your return. Send me a message every once in a while, yes? To know you're okay."

To this Larwen gave a tight squeeze and asked, "I need you to do something for me... Collapse the entrance to Pervanon. Thought it pains me greatly, what I have created in the depths of this place should be forgotten. Please, will you do this for me?"

Aella nodded and looked at the Tree one last time. "No one will ever see this garden we've created, huh? I will do it."

"Thank you Aella... This garden was never meant for anyone else but either of us... Take the seeds from the tree, plant them across Galbar. Let them grow. I know Telum will not listen to me, or the others, and I do not ask them for forgiveness, but, let them know what happened here. If...If you ever need me, speak my name and I won't be far." Larwen stated, then pulled away from Aella, looking at her beauty one last time, smiling ever so softly as he did. His voice came as a soft whisper, "Goodbye... my love." And Larwen vanished from the garden of Pervanon, from Aella's sight, to a distant place far beyond Galbar.

His exile had begun.

---

From the blackness of Pervanon, where Larwen had sat impaled into the stone wall, there was naught but silence. Until the blood of Larwen stirred, for his ichor had not yet dissipated, and when Seihdhara's sword struck him, it did far more then wound the God. It broke apart of him, shattering it into the rock where it began to leech out like blood from a fresh wound. It pooled with the essence of Larwen, subduing the golden ichor, dominating, mixing, and growing, savoring every bit of the meager amount left behind. There it continued to gestate, to think, and its first thoughts were of pain, but not its own.

Vines of black matter erupted from the mass, interconnected and forming large claws as they touched the stone.

Then another arm.

A leg followed, strong and sturdy.

Then another leg formed.

It rose from where it at knelt, standing as tall as Larwen had.

It's head formed from the black mass, twisting into a foul visage.

Flames then erupted from it, bright and hot, the creature coming to life in perpetual agony.

An avatar had been born.

Memoriae

The Great Watcher

Memoriae had created what he would call a temporary home for himself, For the time being he would use this as his "human" home wanting to in a sense hide form the other gods. But he also had a large task ahead of him and that was gaining followers, This certain task would not be hard for him but it would take some time for his new followers. Walking out of his newly built cabin and walking still in his human form to the local "village".

Still in his human form walking though the forest, Taking his time and appreciating the beauty of his surrounding. Being born a few hours ago made him appreciate this new world, Something on his mind however was his so called "Father" the god that had attacked him. Why did he feel both scared but fascinated by the other god. Memoriae wondered where the god of corruption was, "I wonder if he is okay" He said to himself smiling softly. Finding himself to be so strange that he would care about someone else, He wondered if this was normal to feel this way.

As he made his way to where he could see humans interacting with each other, Disguising himself further by matching their primitive clothing and look. Moving though see their primitive huts and carrying spears. This would have to be corrected because he will need to in a way conquest to complete his goals.

He also found it funny the idea of creating something, He did not know if he had the ability to do so like others. Never the less he needed memories and the humans would be a good entrée. Standing behind a tree with his eyes closed chanting something softly to himself. "Gahena z'eup'ha ko'para wa'eruta" His words seemed to echo as he used his powers to expand the minds of the humans around him. His words would open the mind of the primitive humans and give them the gift of higher intellect. While he did that he also collected some of the people's memories, Feeling a sort of feeling of ecstasy from all of their experiences. Now they could build and they know whom to worship who gifted them this higher intelligence. That being Memoriae who would now walk with the humans and checking their process.

Little sooner had Promus left the depths and Telum departed the gardens than Lei stepped from one to the other. A shame it had been, to depart from the cyclopes and their patron with such haste, but she had duties, and Alto had a million years of slacked responsibility to catch up on. She'd leave the Citadel a while longer. This was important.

Her feet clicked on the ground and became boots. Heels were for showing off, and for deepwater ooze on which one was only ever pretending to walk. You couldn't lie to yourself so easily on cobbles, even immaculate alpine marble ones. At heart Lei was a practical woman.

Or a thing that looked like a woman.

The architecture radiated power, and as she walked on, the moisture on the path became a stream, then a torrent. Something in the magic here despised clad feet, and tried to wash them away as if they were dirt. Lei walked on. Let it splash; her boots could take it. When the spray grew annoying, Lei inverted gravity relative to herself and continued her walk unabated, now on the ceiling. When she found the one temple among many where her honorary daughter resided, she made her presence known by striking a marble column three times with the head of her cane.

"Where's the mink?"

Kap Gam had noticed that someone had entered the temple as soon as its natural defense was activated, since the flow of water had not stopped, she quickly deduced it was a god or similar, but as the being approached and its aura was felt, her worries both eased and rose. All that communicating with the echoing sound of the cane striking the stone.

"Mink? I do not think they exist yet." the knight answered calmly. "Someone should fix that, and also make peaches, and..."

"Constance." The goddess said in a tone as stern as an emotionless voice could communicate. "Mater Lei, be welcomed. Why the sudden visit?"

Lei walked down an invisible moebius strip, inverting herself right-way-up without ever turning. "This one," she announced, resting the tip of her cane against Constance's tattooed forehead and pushing her slowly to the floor, "needs to be shaken down for memetic weaponry. You had the subtlety of not loading her with relics, but she might still be carrying something." She looked up at her fellow-goddess. "And then I need to upgrade my security. Hello, Kap Gam. You've finally decided to greet me."

"Ow, ow, ow..." It was not really hurting, but Constance was mildly inconvenienced as she was forced down.

"I am sorry, my intent was not to ignore you, but it was an eventful day." she then glanced at Constance for a moment. "Well, she was supposed to bring something for me, but it seems she forgot, a situation only further worsened by the fact the sole reason I left the limbo was to do this transaction." all that was told in an emotionless whisper, yet each word hit the knight like a knife. "Your presence signals I should not have tried to do that, at least without proper communication. I just considered that if it was not meant to happen, there would be barriers in place, and I felt none when summoning Constance, which was odd, there are typically some protections at least, it was almost as if she was already here."

"There are protections! This sneaky little ferret flittered her way in anyway. I consider that a problem." Lei withdrew her pocket-watch and didn't open it; instead she unscrewed its back and withdrew a tiny, paper-thin cog, with an unusual shape. She crouched over Constance. "Stay right there."

"M-Miss... One thing I must say, is that I fluttered, not flittered, I-I am not a peasant you know, to flitter about randomly, flutter has grace to it..." as intimidated as she was by the masked person, her pride as a Martha Flutterling was her most primordial instinct.

"My apologies," Lei muttered, resting the cog over Constance's iris, "you strutted."

The fae let out an outraged gasp, but Kap Gam intervened. "Constance... Respect Lei, this is her realm, after all." the goddess said, hoping the situation would not escalate, she still had things to do on this universe, issues to fix.

"I'd say it was, had you not tried to use it for dealings netherwards of yon table," said Lei. From Constance's eye, a faintly glowing ring arose, like a smoke ring, expanding in detail and size as it filled the whole room. It was her iris, modelled in minute detail, every fold and striation and hue. Lei spun it a few times, looking it over. "What will you do, now that your transaction fell through?"

The ephemeral goddess tensed as she saw what had happened, it was rare for her to be surprised at this age, but Lei had so far been hard to follow. Unlike the previous one she met, there were no hints for Kap Gam to take, for someone who relied so much on reading others, it was an anxious feeling. "I did not think about that yet. I do still want what Knight Constance was meant to bring me, but my mind has been focused on a more pressing issue for this world..." she rose her hand and a circle with the entire Ley's Mycelium mapped appeared.

The fae looked towards Kap Gam with both her eyes. "Master, is it really the time? You, You, You do see my situation, right? Would you, uhm, not think it is a more pressing matter?"

"This flow is wrong. The axis mundi shifted south from the door into the ocean. The Ley spread in odd ways, it needs to be regulated before mortals become many, but it is hard even for me to do something about it." she stopped. "A moon would do. Do you have any to spare?"

Lei looked away from the memetic landscape and said, "what?" She shook her head a little. "Hold on. Get me that again, starting from 'axis'. I feel like there's a problem I'm missing here, and now you want my moon."

The goddess took a deep breath, she was exhausted from saying so many words today, she would need to stay quiet for a week after this. If Lei was not Lei she would surely be rolling her eyes like she did with Telum. "Constance. Could you explain?"

"Master, again, my iris is filling the room, do I really have to..."

"Please."

"Uffffine, fine. Uhm, Miss Lei, what master meant is that the original plan of the Ley was compromised. See, worlds have telluric currents, if you listen to extremely low frequencies you can pick some natural ones. Gods have influence, when gods step on a planet they make a bit of a, uhm, splash similar to those telluric currents, like big divine magnets, this forms a world axis. Mostly meaningless, some pigeons use it to emigrate and mortals are influenced to center maps around it, but some stubborn goddesses like to allow her creations to follow these lines since 'Its more natural Constance. Makes the souls extra spirited.'" the last part was told in a monotone voice.

"Must be nasty," smugged Lei.

"Well, turns out this world has a messed up world axis. Why? We do not know yet. The likely spot for it to be found was at the Door, where all gods arrived or were born. The Ley was made with that in mind, the first map master made did not show any oddity... And then it turns out the center was down in south of the beach, under the deep sea, which is a no-no zone for any significant amount of Ley. The issue is, the flow of souls creates this natural 'resonance' to it, magic, imagine it like ripples on a water fountain."

"Like the magnetic field of a wire," Lei followed.

"Yup! Nature is full of motifs. It's inspiring. So, the Mycelium was supposed to be a perfectly planned fountain, one that would never overflow. What we got is that, but tilted 45 degrees."

Lei looked down, meeting Constance's eyes. The one she wasn't fiddling with, anyway. "And that's a problem, is it."

"Well, souls overflowing are a bit more exciting than water, but, in general, it is not a mess one would like to mop. And that bring us to the moon... Which, uh... Master, what are we using a moon for again."

"That's a fantastic question," said Lei.

Kap Gam had been playing with the water of a nearby fountain to entertain herself, not even noticing the thematic relevance before someone mentioned her. She stood up. "The fountain example was good. Imagine if, to fix the imbalance of the fountain, I decided to alter the moon so the tidal effects would keep the water within the fountain."

"That... That seems impractical."

"Listen to your knight, she gives good counsel," said Lei. The point was only now being gotten to. "Kap Gam, if that is what you want to be called- if I gave you the moon, what would you do with it?"

"It is a big fountain, Constance." the goddess told, before raising one eyebrow as Lei spoke, surprised she questioned her name. "The... Design, if I can call it that, is simple. The Ley responds to certain stimulus, and one of the best ways to interact with it is by using a rock that was perfectly polished into an orbuculum. A good focus needs to be pure quartz or diamond, like the one Constance made for me, but what I have in mind does not need to be good, it needs to be huge... and spin around the planet."

Lei looked at the floating orb that adorned the air above the fountain where Kap Gam was sitting. Things were making sense. "...You want to sand my moon," she nodded eventually, spinning the holographic iris back down into the eyeball where it was meant to be. "You want to turn my moon into a giant cueball. Bap!" With a stroke of her arm, Lei stretched her cane into a long cue and struck the Ley orb, which ricocheted all around the room before coming to a halt in the air right in front of her, nary a scuffmark on it. "Oh, you can see the Telchines on this. Tell me, is that all?"

Kap Gam turned slightly to the side to avoid the incoming ball, obviously not acknowledging the act with even a hint of a facial expression. "A cueball? I do not know what you are referring to. Yet, I can guarantee it will not be a too intrusive change. My assumptions are that it will shine a bit brighter and maybe a few currently unknown astronomical events might happen depending on how the sunlight hits." the goddess pondered. "And yes, it is a very primitive idea, the real work is in the temples, like this one. I just need the means to polish an entire satellite."

As they spoke Lei departed from the little speck of indigo marking Phlegra on the orb and dipped under it, to where Constance was lying uncomfortably under a giant levitating ball of rock. "What," she asked, retrieving her cog, "is the indicative form of the past-perfect verb, 'yoten'?"

Y-Yoten? I do not know that word." the fairy squealed.

"She's clean," Lei announced. With another, more calculated stroke of the cue, she set the quartz orb to a gentle roll back to where it had been. "If I can trust you to hold my moon and not pocket it, Kap Gam, I see no reason not to lend it to you. Scale is not an issue. And lucky for you, this gives me some excellent leverage to do what I came here to do." Lei curled-uncurled her gloved hand, spinning her pocket-watch on a golden chain. "You're an ultrastellar nomad, Kap Gam, and you know things I don't. This monitor records events in my universe, and every gnawing at its border. Upgrade it with every loophole you know, and I will give you my moon."

"I will see what I can do. My area of expertise is on souls and I rarely touch the deeper core of reality, yet I have seen enough catastrophic failures to know more than enough about universal structure." the goddess extended her hand.

"And yet your coat jangles when you walk," said Lei, clasping it with her own hand. There was a sharp hydraulic snap, and smoke rose between the two. When she withdrew it, three small black craters had been punched into Kap Gam's. "There, now we're trustworthy. When did you want that moon? Tonight?"

The goddess rose her hand, looking at the holes and glancing at Lei "This is an odd way to find trust. Nevertheless, yes, tonight is good, I want to fix the issues as soon as I can." she glanced at the watch and extending her hand again. "I could work on your request while you provide for my own." Lei tossed the watch, and she caught it.

"Pleasure dealing with you," she waved. "I'm off to get a moon. Constance? Make sure no funny business."

Constance made finger guns towards Lei. Don't fret, nothing to worry from me.". Meanwhile, Kap Gam started to examine the watch, her eyes flashing for a moment as she started to look at Lei's realm for anything that felt like an issue waiting to happen, immediately noticing one only a few steps from where she was.

---

56...57...58.... "Fifty-nine. Done." the goddess said.

The knight looked towards her. "Oh? You only found fifty-nine issues? Lei is really a materpiece maker. Hehehe."

"Three hundred fourteen billion, one hundred fifty-nine million, two hundred sixty-five thousand, three hundred fifty-nine clusters of issues" she concluded. "Overall a good universe, but Lei really overlooked some aspects of it. I give it a seven and eight tenths, too much water."

She added a little note within the watch and closed it. "Now we wait for her to return."

At about that time, two curious things and entirely unrelated things happened.

First, the moon disappeared.

A few minutes later, Lei stormed into the room, grinning, and carrying a large bottle.

"Guess what's in here?" she demanded, slamming the cryovat on the table as some glitchenfae cowered behind a column. Her gloves had burns on them, and her left boot was missing; she seemed to be leaking ecstasy from the holes in her costume. The vat was filled with a pale blue gel, and glowing softly.

Kap Gam turned gently to the side, raising one eyebrow at the commotion and her first view of a gitchenfae, creatures she had vaguely sensed but never met. "A fabric softener mixed with plutonium." she calmly guessed at random, before becoming a bit tense at the idea it was not out of the realm of the possible.

"Moon in a jar!" yelled Lei, who might not have been listening. "I mean, yes, it could be those other things. I don't know. I can't tell. I spent the last half hour wrestling a big rock." As she spoke her hands unlidded the vat and fiddled around in the column of fog that escaped. "Careful, it's freezing. Here!" Lei dredged the moon from the gel and dropped it on the table, where it sat around looking much like any other round grey rock.

"Oh..." the goddess looked at the cosmic object on the table. "Well, Constance, good news is that you won't have to go to the moon anymore. This will be a much simpler chore." she pointed towards the small rock.

The knight sighed and nodded. "Right... Ugh, been polishing a lot of rocks since I arrived... wait, you were sending me to the moon?"

"Don't make Lei wait."

Nodding again, the fairy extended her hands towards the rock, making it float in the air like the orb. Taking energies from the ley near her, her hands shone with resonance, she gently touched the moon with the side of her hand and immediately sparks emitted from contact. With care and precision, the moon spun against her hands, all of its surface being leveled down as the layers of dust were removed, revealing the unscarred lithosphere. For all the knight's silly antics, she was surely precise, as the final result was a perfect orb.

"Don't forget to collect the dust for repairs later..."

"Lunar dust bunnies is what we should do."

"Maybe. Also, throw some powder on it so it gets that white look again... Please don't pick up the silver dust bottle."

"Calm down, calm down, just a bit won't hurt." with a brush, the knight quickly gave the moon back its white color, while maintaining the smooth look. "There missus, the moon is done." the knight offered the floating orb back to Mater Lei.

"Oh? Oh, that was quick." She took the orb and forced it back down into its jar with a squelch. "It's not going to scale up, you know, the powder. Don't worry about it. Just smoothing it will up the brightness. To a painful level." She chuckled. _{"It's gonna be hilarious."}

"Thank you again for your patience and help, Mater Lei." Kap Gam bowed slightly. "I have added a few notes to your watch from the few mistakes I found when observing it. One thing I think you should fix soon, is to regulate portals made by other gods, Aella's aimless portal over in the roof, for example, was likely the pathway Constance took to arrive."

"What? Oh..." Lei disappeared with a crack and a spark, and acrid smoke spilling over the floor. The moon she left behind her. There was a small earthquake, and she walked back in the doorway, adjusting her glove. "That... should be fixed. It's still intact. But I have filled it with spikes. At least until it leads somewhere." She sighed. "Do you have my watch?"

"Well... it's a solution." she said, moving closer to Lei and handing her the watch. Lei took it with a 'hm' that implied a raised eyebrow of acceptance. "I think you'll find I'm a solution-oriented woman," she said, managing to shrug with one shoulder and slouch with the other. "Speaking of." After taking aim at the jar of moon briefly with her cue, Lei did the responsible thing and absconded with it.

"I'll see you again," she advised the two of them in the doorway. "I'm sure there'll be more mischief you'll be getting up to." She disappeared, then, leaning back in, "You are coming to the ball, aren't you?" and then she was gone.

A few minutes later, the moon reappeared. A single glove joined it, hovering away in low orbit, forgotten.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

---

With the matter of the solution starting to be dealt with, Kap Gam decided to investigate what could possibly have started the issue on the first place, to better understand what she would be dealing with and to prepare for any future trouble that might happen. Looking again at the map, she pinpointed the world axis and quickly left Locus Amoenus towards the location, first crossing the continent then dipping under the ocean.

At a first sight, the area did not seem to be out of the ordinary for something deep on the sea, located in a crater valley, the region seemed, from the surface, normal, but as the goddess went deeper, towards the sea floor, she started to notice something was odd and wrong. Even simple observation would denounce it, the sediments were too young for this untouched world, as if something had recently stirred up in the region, but what the goddess saw was different, it was as if the land had a beating heart full of energy, it emanated a strong aura.

Almost without thinking, she landed on the seafloor, and knelt, touching the ground beneath her with one hand, trying to understand what laid under that area, and, not entirely accidentally, cause whatever was under there to react with an influx of resonance.

Uthum had been dreaming. Dreaming of lines and change, of blood and suffering and even of death. He rarely moved within the mana that was still flowing from him. It was a dense substance now, pushed up against the walls of his tomb. Slowly vibrating. Then another god came. Like a cry for help the mana vibrated harder and harder. She was coming! Maybe she could free its god! The mana began to push against the ceiling. The rocks it had ones sealed above it now began to crack as the mystical energy pushed up against it. Crying out to the goddess on the other side for help. All the while Uthum remained in slumber, floating within his tomb.

The goddess felt the energy answering, something on its aura was wrong, almost desperate. She wondered what to do, if she were to wait a few years she would have the fae workforce to dig a hole in that ocean, but that seemed cruel. It seemed the resonance was helping the power beneath to activate, so perhaps, a bit more would cause a reaction strong enough to free whatever was beneath. She took a moment to focus, and once again tried to use resonance to reach the entity.

She answered! She was there! The mana pushed harder. Clawing at the rocks now. Stone fell down through the mana. The resonance of the goddess helped. The ceiling began to collapse. Above, in the water sand began to billow up as the stone below it was sinking. All around Uthum stones fell. Though the mana made sure to protect its god. It pushed and pushed until finally the first cracks began to form above. Blue light began to pour through the fissures but the mana refused to escape through it. It kept pushing directly under the goddess that was helping it. The glowing fissures grew and pillars of light emerged. Finally the mana pushed up. Exploding the rocks above it as a pure, bright, blue pillar of light shot upwards. Slowly the sleeping god was pulled upwards. Kept in its suspension while he was raised from the deep. The pillar reached above the waves and into the sky. Around it a dangerous maelstrom raged. The ocean swirled around while dark clouds gathered above and around the pillar of light. Mana shot up from the top like a fountain and as water it flowed over the world. Finally, when Uthum was above the waves the pillar of mana shattered and Uthum awakened. Levitating over the sea. For a moment he was awestruck as the ocean calmed down.

The goddess noticed the cracks underneath her feet and the aura she felt strengthening and getting closer to where she was. One of the relics on her body shone red and her face actually showed surprised and conviction, ichor beating fast as she swirled away from the erupting chaos with a mix of grace and haste. She was on the surface to watch the energies spreading around the world, forming something better described as an atmospheric storm.

Seemed like she had found what had caused so much trouble, though now the forces were released evenly across the planet, the damage it had done to the structure of the world would be permanent to her creation, so she was not yet free from the burden of correcting the flow of the mycellium.

Calmly, she floated towards the god floating over the ocean. Just now noticing the energy was not simply an universal mechanic but a deity of its own. "Who are you?" she questioned, back to her passive face and tone.

Uthum turned to face Kap Gam. Her appearance was not entirely unfamiliar. Yet at the same time his instincts told him this was no mere oddly dressed human. He just knew that this was a god. He also knew he was a god too. “I am… Uthum, God of Magic.” He answered very carefully. Speaking my vibrating the air around him rather that straight up talking. How he knew he was the God of Magic, he could not say and it did not matter. As the mana swirled around him for a moment when he said the words. Confirmation enough for his claim he thought. “And who might you be?”

Kap Gam did not take as much time to realize it was indeed a god that she saw, usually, simply floating among a maelstrom of energies was a good indicator, but the deity also had an odd, otherworldly look to it. Neither entirely human nor entirely not, uncanny in a sense. "I am Kap Gam, goddess of Souls." she explained calmly. "This energy that was freed with you, what is it?" she asked, it was a bit late to stop it from spreading, so she hoped for it to not be noxious.

“Goddess of Souls?” Uthum observed her. Not just with the senses he was familiar with. His new gained godhood let him see and feel beyond what any mortal could. And his divine senses confirmed her claim. She was most certainly a goddess. “The energy?” he asked rather confused. Then he realized it. “Mana, you mean!” Happy that the substance he loved so much was here too he outstretched his arm. The mana, normally barely visible to the eye converged around him and flowed around his arm as tiny particles of shimmering lights before disappearing again. “It’s the definition of limitless possibilities. I… can’t quite explain it. But it manifests itself through will and belief. You can try it yourself! Just reach out to it and enact your will upon it!” He didn’t actually know if the mana would heed her command. Which was why he was so excited.

"Mana, huh?" she wondered, it was an interesting idea, divine-like energy, free of form, that would change itself to thought, even mortal thought. She would be optimistic about such thing if she was not so weathered. "I can use it too? Let me try." she extended her hand, calling Mana towards her, making a bird out of it, which landed on her arm. Unlike the Fae, it was not alive, it was merely an echo of what she was thinking, as if imagination given life, a creature within her head projected into the world. As soon as she lost focus, the bird vanished into the flow. "It is a beautiful thing."

“It is! It is!” Uthum exclaimed with pure, almost childish joy as he watched the bird vanish again. Gods could manipulate his gift! Wonderful! “I intended it as a gift! For all beings!” But then a very real dread overcame him as he gazed up into the clouds. Mana was everywhere. Flowing like great, constantly changing rivers. There was too much of it moving too fast. “The mana… it’s all around.” He uttered with a now fearful voice. The god turned to Kap Gam with a strong sense of urgency: “What is the state of mortal beings in this world? Are there animals? People?” It was clear in his voice that he feared the existence of people the most.

"It would be quite a calamity if I had went with my other plan to free you, then." she nodded to herself. "Mortal are still rare, most of the world population is Fae, creatures held together by their own will, which will surely help to incorporate mana without struggle. There are a few minor species, humans, griffins, other such creatures, populations small enough they will meet Mana at their own time. Imps there are many, but the lest you have to worry about in their homeland is Mana."

Uthum was visibly panicking now. He looked around, trying to find the land. It was nowhere in sight. Normally he would be happy with a race that held itself together through pure will. They would be excellent creatures to learn his magic. But there was too much mana and he wasn’t around yet. Even worse, there were other, minor races as well. “Goddess. I must know where these Fae are. They will need my guidance.”

The goddess took a moment, then shook her head. "They are everywhere, even on the moon." she calmly explained. "You worry too much. You are not responsible for each and every mistake committed by others, those are bound to happen, what matter that your intention was not vile."

He looked upwards towards the sky, assuming the moon was beyond. “How am I going to get up there?” He mumbled to himself, utterly ignoring Kap Gam’s remark on him worrying too much. Then he looked down at his feet. “Oh right. I can fly.” It all still felt very new to him. He did listen to the rest she said. “You misunderstand. I expect mortals to make mistakes. Especially with my gift. I just don’t want them to fear it. Or invent some rigorous and dogmatic rules that would chain the mana. That is my duty as Warden of the Arcane. I must go now. I truly must. But I will not forget what you did for me. When the time comes, you can call upon any boon you desire of me. May fate bring our paths together again, Goddess of Souls.” Uthum made a courteous bow and then flew up high into the sky as he begin his search for mortals.

---

The goddess stepped back into the gentle land of Locus Amoenus, taking a moment to rest. Each time she returned, she felt more energetic, much of the arrival sickness gone by now and her body properly tuned to this reality. She could even dare to say she was starting to feel somewhat comfortable with her surroundings.

"Constance. Is the selenite harmonization field ready?" the said, walking into the central field of the sanctuary.

The fairy knight sighed and looked at her master, resting against the hoe she previously held. "I am still working on the new moon bit. Ugh, master, I am more of an adventurer sort, my hands are small and the fairy-dust that makes my body is of a fine and light composition. Can you not get someone to help us? Mortals, maybe, or a Fae! Are there not some humanoid shaped ones near us?"

"Those Fae have issues." yet Constance raised a good point, making the goddess wonder. "Did you store the moon dust?"

"Yup! Placed it in a cave before it grew in size, now there is a pale white desert within it. Cool stuff."

Without answering back to the Martha, Kap Gam turned around and started walking towards the aforementioned cave. Stepping into it, she found it was a large chamber, lightly a widespread system of caves before being submerged into lunar soil. Bits of Ley on the ceiling twinkled like stars, truly as if she had stolen a bit of the moon and placed it on Galbar. On her feet, a little Fae looked up, shaped like a bunny, it had mimicked mechanical pieces, likely influenced by Mater Lei and Martha Constance's wish for dust bunnies. The pixelated red eye moved around the wide black visor on its head as it stared at the goddess. She should give it a name.

Rabbit Spirit would be a fitting one, but as she looked at the little Fae, she came up with one idea that would fit such a noble name better. Not that the little one was of poor quality, she liked him. "Latmusite." she had also decided to name the cavern Latmus on that very moment.

She then placed the Latmusite Fae on her shoulder and extended her other hand, the sands of the moon cavern starting to shake as souls poured down from the Ley above. Hands rose up, then helped themselves out from the dust, humanoid sized Fae rose, they had a human-like complexion, but much like Latmusite, followed a pseudo-mechanical aesthetic. For ears, they had a pair of long and blocky antenna, similar to the one in the little fae Kap Gam had found.

Soon, the room had many of these Fae, and quickly, being Spirit-type Fae, they formed a hierarchy. Three clans were formed. Two proudly taking inspiration from the moon that composed them, and one, curiously the only one where the Fae had horns, seemed to focus more on the earth they would stand.

"I have three tasks that I need help with. You are all free to pick one or none. I need someone to tend to the plants of the gardens and make use of them. I need scribes to record memories and produce talismans. I need loyal soldiers to keep these lands safe."

She expected each clan to pick one, but she did not expect that there would be none who did not follow the group.

Clan Yutu took the role of gardeners. Clan Tecciztecatl took the role of scribes. And finally, the horned and earthly Rasselbock-Wolpertinger offered to become the guardians of Locus Amoenus. As they left the cavern to start their work, the goddess approach one of the Rabbit Spirit Fae of clan Rasselbock, while most had two horns, this one had a single one.

"What is your name?"

"I am Almiraj ma'am. How can I be of your service?"

"Do not tell others, this is to be a confidential matter. I am forming a council of exceptional Spirits to perform covert operations. You are, exceptional, are you not."

Almiraj couldn't help but smirk slightly with the side of her mouth. "Oh no, I am just your usual Fae. The very idea I would be involved in secret operations is absurd." The goddess gave her a transitory side smile and nod of approval.

---

Gremju had enjoyed a quiet period of quiet for a few years or so, amusing himself by interacting with the various imp gangs that were now spreading around the world and watching from a distance at the newly developing civilization of imps. He was bored of being a passive observer now though and decided to get right back into things again. He looked over the Plains of Madness and decided it still needed some more life to spice things up, so he began to work. He filled the larger lakes with schools of Sastuk, the areas that had began to resemble the swamps crafted by Pelegath with small irritating creatures that would bite and nibble at the flesh of those entering it...small creatures were interesting, perhaps he could make something very fun later down the line with them? The Challenger also littered the main plains with many small creatures capable of survivng from the spores of the Grem trees that had grown abundant due to the low amount of live for the past few years, or off each other. He created small vermin with long tongues that could lick up spores with easy and burrow back into the sand to escape predators,he created large chitinous beasts on four legs that slowly made their way across the Plains in small herds seeking spores. Those were among his personal favorites but he felt that more was needed, a apex predator for these beasts.

Gremju was distracted from his creations by the scream. It was a terrible sound, he did not like it. Not at all. It filled him with a terrible sensation, one that made him want to curl into a ball and sob. He did not like it, not at all. Not at all not at all. He wanted it to stop, what had happened? Gremju hovered across the planet trying to discern the source of the sound and eventually found his way to Mount Pervanon. There was no God that had created the scream anymore, instead he found the flaming remains of Seihdhara. Gremju hovered in the air for several moments, staring at the flames in shock before he roused himself and vanished back to the Plains of Madness; he could sense the presence of others still in the area and did not wish to disturb or be disturbed. Instead the Challenger sat upon one of the many crystal trees and contemplated what he had just witnessed. A God. Dead. He had never really interacted with Seihdhara but he was shaken, they were meant to spend an eternity tailoring the universe to their desires,challenging each other sometimes and rejoicing in their creations together at others. But now that was gone, and the universe seemed emptier for it.

Gremju sat in the tree for some time as he mused on what had occurred and what it meant before he finally acknowledged his fear. He didn't want to die. What happened to a deity when they died? Mortals could at least enjoy the comfort of an afterlife or reincarnation but what happened to Seihdhara? Has she been reincarnated elsewhere in the universe? Another universe? Or is she lost to eternity? The imp remained stationary and pondered this for some time until he could not bear the feeling of terror any longer. The Ring of Bedlam began to glow with chaotic energy as it was bound and twisted to the Challengers desire, producing a hook of chaotic energy that protruded from the gem in the ring. With a wince and a whine Gremju drove the hook into his body, the hook was made not to affect his physical form but his soul. He spent several agonizing moments moving the hook, attempting to purge the feeling from his soul. The Challenger wailed in pain as he sharply pulled the hook, ripping the emotion from his very essence and bringing it into the world where it fell from the tree slowly and landed in a pile on the blackened soil below him. It took a rustic brown color as it sat,writhing on the ground and gradually took shape into a being of it's own accord as Gremju looked upon with some uncertainty. Eventually the being took the form of a creature resembling Gremju but it was off, it's eye sockets were glazed over and it's horns shattered, the grin that Gremju usually wore replaced with a mouth hanging open with broken, seemingly rotting teeth. As Gremju viewed the creature a more familiar emotion overtook him, fury. He lashed out with the hook, splitting the thing apart. Then again. And again. And again. Until small pieces of rustic brown energy were scattered around the area. Soon however, they began to reform into new creatures that looked identical to the last, they stood around Gremju the Challenger and began to sob and groan in pain. Now the feeling of fear began to take hold again and the imp did the only thing he could think of, he yet again used the Ring of Bedlam to teleport each of the creatures away from him. Where? He didn't care. Some ended up in the middle of the ocean. Some in Pervanon. An unlucky few may have ended up in deep space, forced to wander for eternity in the empty void. They were gone now though, and that was all Gremju cared about as he sat back down and began to compose himself, a forced grin growing on his face.

Maeve watched from a height as King Brentylwith and his host of lessers fled from what remained of her army. The Perfected Fae took claim to both Sullied and Unsullied holdings now. The desert behind both forests had been a surprise to her, for she had no memory of it when she had been like them. It added to the victory at hand, for she knew they would suffer, as she suffered. Still, it was a bittersweet victory that won her nothing but a sadness that gnawed at her core. A depression so profound, that Maeve felt as if she could cast herself into the deep waters of the sea and still fall deeper into the abyss...

For Tingalina was now but dust, and she had killed her.

Maeve fell to her hands and knees upon the overlook, and silently wept for the first time. Tears of energy fell from her face, where they splashed upon the earth it grew blackened and corrupt. She cried for Tingalina, her love of loves, her sweet laugh on summer nights, her golden locks, the way she-

Clear as day she saw it again, the fateful blow, the look of betrayal in Tingalina's eyes. She had not wanted it, for Tingalina to return to dust. But Maeve had lost herself in anger, and before she knew it, it was already too late to stop. She did not even have time to hold Tingalina before she became nothing. No- she had to watch her lover die, hands outstretched but only air slipping through her fingers. It was over... she was gone... just like that.

Maeve's seclusion was interrupted by a Perfected Unsullied, her voice like cold water splashing her from a fog, Maeve snapped her head to look at the Fae and the Fae spoke, unsure of herself, 'My Queen, the Zalsarix... They have started back to the mountains in frantic hurry. There are rumors... the scream from the battle-'

'What-' Came Maeve's weak voice at first, but she coughed and her regal nature gave way to a richer voice, 'What is your name?' Maeve interrupted the Fae. Her composure steadily returning to what it was supposed to be. She was a Queen, and needed to act like one around her people. Depressed as she was, she could not be seen as weak or anything but in charge, and as much as it pained her to go on- she had to.

'I- My name is Aina, my Queen.' the timid fae replied after a moment.

Maeve stood up, towering over Aina as she spoke, her rich voice full of melancholy, 'Aina... What a lovely name.' Maeve stated before stroking the Fae's cheek with one of her long fingers. 'Listen closely, I have a task for you.'

Regulus had observed what was occuring on Galbar through the Reflection Well. He became concerned about the happenings that occured in his absence. Seidhara and Larwen could no longer be found through his scrying. Gremju had created a new foul demon from himself. A new god had been born, and with it, it has flooded with the world with a volatile substance through a maelstrom of energy. And for the briefest of times, he had thought that someone had stolen the moon, through it must have been the stress of the other events.

The lights of Menagerie Castle dimmed, and then went out in instance, and then returned. Looking upon the leaves of Yggdrasil, they were all a golden hue. The lights once again flashed, and he felt something welling inside of him. It burned.

All he could do was release it. In that instance, he opened his mouth and there was the deafening sound of thunder. After of which, the light returned to the castle. Appearing back to Yggdrasil, the tree once again had leaves of ruby, sapphire, and emerald. But they were in different positions than before. The red leaves grow from the center of the tree, and to their right was the blue leaves, and to their left was the green leaves.

Before him was what he had conjured, a tiny spark of electricity. It began to spark and grow and float into the air. It quickly had grown and shaped itself into the form of a monstrosity bird, growing slightly larger than the tallest Sylvan. The lightning began to snap and crackle, as it came together to form a body for the creature. Other than its size, it had the appearance of a common hawk, other than that it had both blue and brown feathers, and its eyes were deep red and lightning would occasionally jump off from its wings.

Aurum was curious as to what was happening when the lights went off, and the strange sound, and so was draw to Yggdrasil’s chamber. When he saw the giant bird, he was immediately interested. It had wings like a griffin, but was quite different. He was drawn to it, and began to walk towards it without Regulus noticing he had entered the room as he was preoccupied.

The monstrous bird was startled by the presence of this new entity, and flung its wing backs and threw them forward, sending a bolt of lightning towards Aurum. Regulus quickly noticed this, and then noticed Aurum, and he quickly interposed himself between the blast, absorbing the brunt of the attack, but some of the lightning arc'd past him and hit Aurum.

Regulus threw his hands towards the creature, and it immediately went still, landing gently on the ground. He then turned his attention to Aurum. After quickly checking him over, he was mostly fine, but there was a burn on his right arm, just above his elbow, from where the lightning hit him.

Regulus went to heal the wound, but he was to drained of energy. He then took his spear and began to walk over towards the bird with his spear drawn, until he heard Aurum’s voice, “Please don’t hurt it.”

Regulus tensed his grip on the spear, and then loosened it, putting it to its side. This was one of his creations, he should not just destroy it. But it is to dangerous to leave within the castle. It is possible that he would have use for the creature later. He turned to Aurum, and nodded, “Very well. But it can not stay within the castle.”

He went over and touched the bird and spoke, “I name you the thunderbird. For now, you will go to the Island Turtle, and roost there, defending it and it’s young. That is your task for now.” he said, and it disappeared, only to reappear in the cave on Galbar. The thunderbird then took flight.

Uthum had watched the Unsullied march through the desert for some time now. He knew he should feel something. Empathy, maybe? But he felt nothing and while he was excited to find mortals, it did not feel the same as finding people. It was as if he found a long lost toy. None the less he observed the race. Many died in the desert, returning to Dust as their soul could not bear living another day. They reached an oasis but it did only little to easy their wounds. The race was harmed in its very core.

The god of magic did not want to reveal his existence to the wide public just yet. Instead, under the cloak of night he descended. A small group of supposed warriors had taken it upon themselves to patrol through the sands. Uthum quickly befell them. With a quick flick of his hand the mana gathered around the warriors. Before they knew it they were asleep, encased in crystalline mana which began to float behind Uthum. Who took his experiments towards some more remote region of the desert. Where, under the early morning sun, he released them.

Their instincts were sharp, at least, as all three warriors immediately levelled their spears towards him and held their wicker shields high. Though there was fear in their eyes. Uthum didn’t want to ask. He did not have the time for it. So instead he reached out towards one of the warrior’s mind and wretched his story from his thoughts.

It was a tale filled with happiness, laughter but then betrayal, war and death. Yet Uthum still felt nothing. Not an ounce of pity. Instead his mind pulled him towards the strange, dangerous bolts their corrupted kin flung at them. Such devastating magic and it was clear it was not mana. What god had given a mortal race access to magic already? And why did he make it so crude? He made a mental note of it and then moved on.

“Welcome. You are the first of your kind to learn how to harness my gift.” The creatures did not budge. Instead they kept their spears pointed at him. “This gift is mana. And from what I saw… it may help you out in your future war.” The warriors looked at each other. Visibly confused. “Against your darker kin. You might be broken now but there will be a time of vengeance. There always has been.” Uthum said in a rather uncaring way. “Anyway, on too the important subjects. This strange magic your dark kin has, you can defend yourself against it. Give me your shield.” Uthum said. But none of the warriors offered it to him. Rather annoyed with their tardiness in obeying his commands, he commanded the mana around him to whip up the sands. Around the god and the three warriors all sand was whipped up into a swirling frenzy. When he lowered his hand, the storm vanished as quickly as it appeared. “If I wanted to kill, you’d be dead. Now give me your shield.”

Uthum knew that any primal race would not be able to harness pure mana just like that. Mortals needed a framework. A method or a ritual. So on the wicker shield he just got he used his magic to lightly carve arrow heads from inside out in a spiral shape. The task was quickly completed. “Now hold that up.” He said as he handed the wicker shield back. Still confused but also frightened the warrior upheld the wicker shield. “A ward will spawn… a sort of magical.. well, shield. You just have to believe it. You have to want it. Those signs will help you.” Except they wouldn’t. The mana did not recognize those signs and the belief of the warrior was lacking to say the least. But the god of magic gave mana a little nudge. Soon a translucent, light blue vortex formed over the shield. Spiraling outwards. “Yes, good! Now hold that.” Uthum said as he gathered a small concentration of mana in the palm of his hand. “You two, watch.” He ordered to the other warriors. He flung the bolt of mana. Upon impact the mana was thrown outwards. Away from the shield. “Yes! Yes! Again!” Uthum exclaimed a she flung another bolt. Then another. Each one caught by the vortex and harmlessly dispelled. Then, before the shielded warrior could even see it, he flung another bolt. One with the color of their corrupted kin’s magic. The two others could only gasp, knowing their friend was dead. But he wasn’t. The bolt impacted and in a majestic spectacle of color the bolt’s energy spiraled away.

He kept them with him for the entire day. Making them practice the vortex ward until they could make a small one without his secret help. The very next day he taught them another set of glyphs: a curved line with a line straight through the curve. Behind it were three arrow heads pointing towards the curved line. “You kin can throw energy from a distance. This will let you do the same.” It was difficult to carve the glyphs into their spears. But they managed it. And to Uthum’s surprise, he barely had to help them. They began to believe that with every thrust a bolt of light blue energy would shoot off from the tip of their spear. Gleefully Uthum watched as they threw their bolts around. That night, when they fell asleep he cocooned them once more in crystalline mana and transported them back to the vicinity of their camp. Rather content he watched down from the night skies. The first seeds of magic had been planted.

But now he had other things to worry about. He continued his journey until he found the land of the darkened kin. The land itself looked like it had suffered under the presence of these corrupted kin. He found a few, also patrolling and flew down. Just like the first band, they upheld their weapons. “Easy now. That is no way to greet a god.” Uthum said.

But these people clearly did not fear him like the previous did. “You are not perfected. Therefor you are an enemy. Go, get your gift from Larwen. If you’re worthy, he might give it to you.” The leader, a female, said. Her stance were defiant and certain. As if she knew she was above him. Despite being nothing but a mere mortal.

This took Uthum a little off guard. Who was this creature, that she would speak so bluntly to a god. The mana around them thickened as uthum’s mood worsened. “You would dare threaten a God!”

The corrupted kin, in turn, gathered their magic and flung it at Uthum. Who caught in the palm of his hand. Even now he could feel the corrupting energy eating away at his mana barrier. This did command some respect, as he observed the energy. “What do you call this?”

“Corr magic. It is a gift from Larwen, God of Perfection.” The dark kin answered, still with a hint of defiance. Though she looked a lot more defensive now. As if she realized that this was not a normal being she had encountered.
“It so… strange. You don’t actually understand this do you? I can feel the soul within. So reckless. It’s just so.. flawed.” Uthum let the energy flow around his arm. Still protecting himself with a barrier. It was magical in nature. That was for sure. But not normal magic. It contained a hunger, a need to transform. Uthum guessed it wanted to ‘perfect’.

“It is not flawed! It is a gift! A perfect gift!” the corrupted ones exclaimed.

“Perfect? This? Far from it. It is simple. Right now its sole purpose is to be a weapon. It’s meant to kill.” But he was still the god of magic. And whatever this was, it was still magic. Uthum clenched his fist and the mana crushed the energy. Shattering it in a thousand pieces. “Yet it holds potential for great and terrible things. Impossible things. Wonderful things. It could even reverse its sins. Maybe in the future I will change it and show you. But for now, begone.” With his final word mana took a hold of the Corrupted Fae and flung them away, into the air. Though with their wings, they could land again safely. But once they touched the ground again, Uthum was long gone.

The goddess was calmly resting near one of the many gardens of her land, when she suddenly stood up, looking to a particular direction, seeing past the simple wall and into the field below. A battle raged, despite the goddess' warnings.

The Unsullied and Sullied were fae, yet not ones created by the goddess of souls. They had many peculiarities that Kap Gam hoped to study in depth one day and discuss with their creator, the goddess Seihdhara.

However, the simple fact they were unique did not give them the right to openly scar the land with meaningless battles. Kap Gam had sent a clear warning to both kings that any fight near the sanctuary would be a great offense (along with a few words why they should stop fighting) yet neither side respected her wish.

The goddess had no option but to judge them all. Landing in a rock that overlooked their petty squabble, she quickly looked into the souls of each of the three hundred Sullied and Unsullied warriors on the field. One in ten were worthy of guidance, nine in ten were worthy of rebirth.

She readied Legion with a fae arrow and released it upon the air. The elfshot became a rain of silver lightning against the pale blue of the morning sky. Eight in ten of the fighters were returned to the Ley.

With that, the goddess walked into the field.

"Half of you who remain had their arms hurt by my arrows. " the remaining Fae looked at their bodies and noticed that indeed, half of them had been hit on the exact same spot. "You will return to your courts and tell your kin that a goddess' wish of peace must be respected. The ones untouched by the arrows may remain."

30 of a mixed group of sullied and unsullied remained. "All of you who are still here possess great wisdom. Your hearts went into this battle not with hatred, but with doubt. The idea of killing others because you are told to by kings or lore is horrible to you. Some of you hate killing and wish to stop, some of you just wish to continue to do so but under a more independent approach. I am not here to judge the morality of your thoughts."

"My sanctuary lays on a valley high within the mountains you see behind me. Let your heart guide you and the pathway that was once impossible will become open to you. Any of you who make it to the fields of my temple will be rewarded with new wisdom. This is all." and just like that Kap Gam vanished back to her land, leaving the confused Sullied and Unsullied behind.

Aina stood behind Maeve on her right side, having completed the task her Queen had asked of her some time ago. It had not been an easy one, finding suitable lord's and ladies to claim the new territory, telling them what Maeve demanded in her new realm, fortifications, honing of abilities, creating new Fae. The list went on, but Aina had proven faithful and returned to Maeve not three days ago. Now Maeve and her small entourage floated at the base of Pervanon, watching a miserable sight, and one that filled them with raw emotions. The Zalsarix clawed at the base of the mountain, ripping out stone and trying in vain to enter their birthplace, their very home. For Pervanon's entrance had been caved in, large boulders, double the height of the Zalsarix blocked the once great entrance.

Many of the Fae with Maeve fell to their knees, weeping silently- the implications of such an event were staggering. Maeve stood tall above them, though this reveal racked her soul further, almost to the breaking point of despair. Truly there was no victory but pain and numbness, now even more prevalent at the base of Pervanon. She shuddered slightly, trying to regain focus, everything that was happening was going to fast! It wasn't fair, but then, what was? Maeve snapped herself out of it, focusing on what needed to be done at hand. She turned to Aina, the smaller Fae also stood, watching with fixed eyes at the mountain.

"Aina." Maeve stated.

The small Fae took a moment to respond, but she looked at Maeve and bowed slightly, "Yes Queen Maeve?"

"The mountain is lost to us, our stronghold, and the birthplace of our race. Larwen has..." Maeve paused the air growing silent, "I no longer feel his presence, his whispers have grown silent and Pervanon is shut. I fear the worst has befallen our God..." Maeve said the words, but she did not believe them, not entirely. Had Larwen been killed? Surely she would have felt such a thing? No, deep in her heart, she feared the one thing that was in abundance in her pitiful life- Had the God of Perfection abandoned them?

"My Queen, what do we do?" Came Aina's soft voice, bringing Maeve back the situation at hand. She realized how good it felt to be focused, being lost in her thoughts was maddening at times.

"We continue on." Came the voice of the Fae Queen, "We continue to grow, to build this land in Larwen's image. The Forge of Purity is lost to us, yes, but there are other ways to Perfect lower lifeforms. I will show you, in time. Firstly, you must grab the Ley, the mushrooms of souls, we must spread them further across the land. Secondly, we must grow in strength, Aina has set this task in motion, but it is paramount we are able to fight when the time comes. Thirdly, we shall form our own grand court and from the dust of the old, we shall build anew, greater then ever before. Now go, return to our siblings, spread these words to the wind, and let all now that Perfection is strength!"

With that, their heads held a bit higher, the Fae began to get to work, but Maeve was not done, not yet.

"Aina, come hither."

Aina had been floating away, but the voice of her Queen stopped her, and she obeyed. She floated towards Maeve, and looked upon her beauty.

"You have done much to please me, for this I am thankful of a dutiful servant. I have thought upon it, and deemed you worthy of a gift, will you accept?"

For once, without hesitating, Aina blurted out "Yes." and feeling ashamed, she looked away from Maeve.

Maeve placed a hand upon Aina's shoulder and whispered softly, "Do not be ashamed my Fae, it is our nature to crave power. Now," Maeve bent over and whispered into Aina's ear seductively, "Awaken, my Handmaiden."

Aina stood proudly behind Maeve, who was now trying to talk some sense into the Zalsarix. The once small Fae in the meantime, marveled at her new body. She felt powerful and for once in her life, capable of acting on that power. Her senses were enhanced tenfold, the touch of her body was exhilarating, her soul, was now truly perfect. Maeve had 'awakened' the dormant power she held, and like a seed, she germinated into something truly special, the first of her kind- a Handmaiden. Aina adored Maeve, and loved her above all else, even her own life. For Maeve had given her a mighty gift, one she could never repay, a gift that was for life.

"You must listen my brothers, please!" Maeve shouted to the Zalsarix. After trying in vain to get them to stop trying to move the stone, Maeve was beginning to loose patience with the firstborns of Perfection. It seemed that without Larwen to control them, they did not listen to anyone, and Maeve was growing angry at the thought of being ignored. It was not in her place, and if Larwen was truly gone, then it was she they would have to listen too.

"I will not ask again! Stop this madness now and listen to me! I have need of you!" Maeve growled at them, but to no avail. The proud creatures deemed her unworthy of their attention, and to this Maeve turned a dark shade of crimson. "Stand back Aina." she commanded, and her handmaiden quickly withdrew to a safe distance. Maeve's clutch on Willbreaker tightened as she thrust it into the sky. The Mace was a divine weapon, gifted to her by Larwen himself, it's only purpose in life was to dominate the minds of those it touched. It had worked on the lesser Fae, and it would work on the Zalsarix as well!

Maeve unleashed Willbreaker to it's full potential, and all of a sudden the Zalsarix stopped in their tracks, one by one turning towards the Fae Queen. Their expressions were full of anger and hatred, and from their hands came swords of power. They charged her, and Maeve's anger only grew with each advancing step.

"Stop!" Maeve shouted, and the Zalsarix hesitated but still kept coming. Her anger began to fade into fear, as the giant creatures showed no signs of being affected. Was Willbreaker not working? Was her will not strong enough? Was she not a Queen? Queen's did not use anger to command, they used authority. The thought came to her suddenly, and it clicked. Maeve's crimson color faded back to white, she took a deep breath, unafraid of the danger now racing towards her. This felt right, she realized, anger had it's uses, but not now, now she needed to be firm and in control of her emotions.

"I said STOP!" Maeve commanded, her voice echoing forward, and this time the Zalsarix faltered, slowing down to standstill. Any closer and she would have been skewered. Slowly, the Zalsarix fell to their knees, and their blades disappeared as they looked at her with sullen expressions.

Maeve began to talk, a new air of authority hanging in the air, "Do you not see my brothers? Larwen is gone, Pervanon is blocked, your siblings are lost to you, but we are not. We Fae are the only ones you have left, whether you like it or not. I am Maeve, your Queen, Larwen himself gave me this title, and with it, Authority. I will not be ignored by you, for my word carries meaning, and with meaning comes purpose. Now rise my Zalsarix! You are coming with me and that is final. There will be a time to mourn what has been lost, but not now." Maeve finished, thinking of Tingalina...

The Zalsarix did not move for a time, but slowly one by one they stood and began to file away from the Mountain, following Maeve as they left back to the front of her domain.

They had not gone even a day into the journey when a small group of Fae stopped Maeve in her tracks, with an air of urgency. One by one they bowed, all except one. She stood, her head held high, even in the face of the Zalsarix and the beauty of her own Queen. Maeve floated towards this defiant Fae, towering above her, but she did not waver. "And what is your name?" Maeve asked her.

"I am Nessa." The Fae said arrogantly, while looking into Maeve's face.

"Nessa..." Maeve whispered, before unleashing her magic upon the Fae. The Fae screamed as she collapsed to the ground, the Corr ripping into her body. It was not enough to kill her, but to punish her. "You should learn to address your Queen in the proper way, Nessa. Defiance does not suit you, my dear. I see your strength, your will, it is great but without proper restraint you are little more then a savage. This will not do." Maeve stopped the flow of magic, and kicked Nessa in the stomach.

"Let's start over, shall we? Bow." Maeve commanded. By this point all of the Fae, even the Zalsarix were watching the exchange.

Nessa got to her hands and knees, bowing deeply in front of Maeve, the Fae trembled as she knelt there. Feeling satisfied, Maeve spoke again, "Now rise and address me properly, Nessa."

Slowly, painfully, Nessa rose, slightly hunched and clutching her stomach. "M-My Q-Queen. F-Forgive me, I mean to d-disrespect."

Maeve's tone changed to a kinder one, "Of course not my dear Nessa, all is forgiven. Now why have you come here?"

"T-thank you my Queen. We came here, t-to find you. We met something, or someone." Nessa said.

"Who did you meet?" Maeve questioned.

Nessa didn't answer at first, looking at he other Fae who she had came with before looking at Maeve again, "A god, my Queen."

In the forests of her birth, Maeve had gazed into the room where Elabeen and Fylmira once held court, a now desolate place full of broken dreams. She held such contempt for that place, it unhinged memories of a different time, ones that were now all to painful to remember. So Maeve destroyed the chamber, shattering it into a thousand pieces, then she destroyed the very tree it had roosted in. When this was done, she told her subjects to build her a throne that was worthy of her presence, one that would be suitable for their Queen. Only then could she be satisfied in the old Unsullied forest.

Aina was sent away for the time being, to the Sullied forest, where she would oversee it's rebuilding. Maeve in the meantime had summoned Nessa to her, and the Fae had come without pause, now waiting and bowing low. Maeve watched her from where she lounged about on a large blackened branch, her back against the trunk of the tree, her shadow casting long as the sun dwindled. Maeve had thought long upon what Nessa had told her, and it was unnerving to say the least. That a God could call their Corr flawed, and imperfect. It made her think, and she was thankful for having a task to be focused on, else her mind wandered.

This nameless God was a mystery to her, she only knew of Larwen by name, but the existence of others was not entirely unknown to her. The God had taken interest in the Corr, why would he do that? Furthermore, he had said that the magic had potential for a great amount, that he could change it to even alter sins. Maeve only wished he had come to her, and not the arrogance of Nessa. If he had wanted, the God could have killed her with ease, and Maeve would never have come about to this conversation. Yet he let her go, and Nessa had proven herself by coming to Maeve, though perhaps not by her own line of thinking.

Regardless, the God's words set doubt within Maeve. If the Corr was flawed and imperfect, how could she perfect it? If only Larwen had not vanished...

"You've done me a great service by telling me about your encounter, Nessa. My only wish is that it had gone differently, but we cannot change the past, now can we?" Maeve's voice dropped to a whisper.

"No, we cannot my Queen." Nessa began sadly, "P-Please forgive me your majesty, I am a rash, arrogant fool."

Maeve shifted slightly on the branch, "All is forgiven my dear, but remember- It is not in my nature to forgive twice. The next time, I will not be so kind as I was when we first met. Now stand up and look at me."

"I understand, my Queen." Nessa said before she slowly stood, and looked at Maeve. The Fae was a tall one, taller then even Maeve had been, she also had several scars covering her body, some still fresh.

"I've a task that needs doing, Nessa." Maeve began in an alluring voice, "Go to the desert to the East, see if you can find what's happened to the lesser's, or anything else of note. I've seen greatness in you Nessa, do this for me, and I will know where your true loyalties lie."

A fierce determination sprang across her face as she listened to Maeve talk, one that needed to be unleashed upon the world. Maeve's voice helped this process, for her words were that of honey and Nessa was as a bee. "I will not fail you, my Queen!" Nessa said excitedly.

"We shall see, Nessa. Now go, may Perfection guide you." Maeve finished, Nessa bowed and floated off into the night.

Locus Amoenus now glowed with faint lights, it's gentle paths lit by lanterns making the land as pleasant in the day as it was in the night. Lights moved around in many sizes, from the small firefly to the fae called Lampad, an alteration born from the Dracs who instead of water, had an affinity to fire and light and a new found skill with Mana, which was the main fuel of the lights.

Kap Gam took pride in a functional place, and the sanctuary had turned exceptionally well kept and organized by now. The libraries were full of thoughts, the land was guarded, the gardens were blooming.

It was fine now to fully focus her efforts on the guidance of the Fae she had selected among the remnants of the forces that once fought at the base of the mountain. Of the 30 she had guided, only 17 had made into her home, all others getting lost in the land or denied by it.

Kap Gam's display of power had been enough to persuade them out of their silly war between sullied and unsullied. Beyond that, they were on their own, being welcomed to meditate and enjoy the pleasant land for as long as they needed.

The change did not start in groups and was not sudden. As they became once again proud Fae connected to the Ley, they true appearance started to shine through their shells, their skin was no longer beige or grey but red, blue, green, among many colors while horns started to rise from their 'skulls'. Some gained larger bodies, while other stayed small, yet all had great pride in their form.

They were no longer sullied or unsullied, they were free, they were Ogres.

Uthum had never ventured far from the desert. A strange anxiousness kept him there. A desire to see how these Fae would evolve the usage of mana. They did not disappoint. The original warriors quickly spread the their ‘knowledge’ and belief. Many spears and wicker shields were carved. At night you could see the gentle, blue light of the converging mana being channeled through a primal war or a bright flash of a bolt thrown. Above all else, there have been no accidents yet. Nothing instilled more fear than an accident. And fear was the start of rejection. With somewhat renewed hope, some Fae families began their long march through the blazing desert. Having faith that they would find land beyond it.

Uthum had observed the Fae for a long time and even warded them from the greatest of perils. Though he was sad no new runes were brought into effect. Not for a lack of trying. Some Fae had spent night and day drawing figures in the sand. Intrigued he had watched from afar. But their faith was brittle and shortcoming. Someday a great enough leader would convince the others of another glyph maybe. But Uthum got a little impatient.

He spotted a family, a simple one, that tried to cross the desert. From the markings on his shield, Uthum saw that the father had experimented with the glyphs. The children were yet young and changeable without causing too much trauma. As for the adults, well they’d survive with a memory of pain maybe. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

The Oedon family were never ones to sit by until something happened. They had fought in the war, saw their heroes and leaders die and were one of the first to have discovered the oasis. Now they once again marched forth. Hoping to find a new future. Keitan was the eldest and the leader of the family. With boltspear and wardshield he vowed to protect his little group of people. Between him and his beautiful wife Aia, they had willed no less than five children into this world. All strong and healthy. Just like her husband, she walked armed and ready to fight against whatever foulness would attack them. So when they saw a strange figure approach them from beyond the distant dunes, they were very alert.

The creature was not of this place, that they both knew. Immediately the children hid behind their parents. Two wards formed before the shields. Then joined as one. The creature, dressed in strange robes and with mystical looking halo behind him, merely waved. “What an interesting development!” he yelled. But why? “You can join your wards? It must be because of your unity. Ah, wonderful! At least there is a bit of deviance!” The creature shouted from afar. Both Keitan and Aia deemed him quite mad. No words needed to be spoken. Keitan prepared his boltspear and released its energy. But the creature, instead of going down, merely deflected the bolt. “Oh, that one felt a lot sharper.” The creature shrugged off. Aia threw another but once again the creature deflected it. He now stood before the ward. Both adults felt rather safe behind it. But kept their wits and voice to themselves.

“I will need you to lower this.” The creature said in an overly friendly tone. But he was no friend. Not one they recognized at least. “Very well.” With the touch of a single, clawed finger the ward, first an ever swirling vortex froze in place and shattered like ice. Keitan and Aia both took a step back. Surprised but ready to fight. Uthum though, was less than impressed. Instead he just reached out with his mind, through the mana and forced the family into a joined consciousness.

They all floated in an infinite blackness, with in the distance a sun burning and illuminating only them. A place formed from a half forgotten memory. “We can talk more freely here. In fact, we can show our thoughts so much clearer. To prove his point, Uthum conjured up the memory of him gifting the first two glyphs. Below them sand appeared. Upon it the warriors, practicing their magic. “I am Uthum, God of Magic. I have given your kin a minor gift before.” The aura’s around the Fae changed from cautious to happy in an instant. They knew they could believe him, somehow.

“I am Keitan of Oedon. This is my wife Aia and our children, Histvich, Atron and Mordrem. We are in search for a new land. A safe land against our corrupted kin. A place where we can live once more.” The Fae father introduced himself with great pride.

“Well met, Keitan of Oedon. I have observed you and your family for some time now. You have mastered the primal war and bolt very quickly indeed. I wish I could talk for longer. But there are tasks to be carried out and no time to spare. Keitan of Oedon. Aia of Oedon. I will bless and make you mine. Not divine, but a power more free will course through you. Be part of you. In return, you will except your tasks and duties I give you.”

The family knew they could refuse the gift. Uthum was not a scornful god. But never the less they all had a great sense of ambition. Despite the loss of so many great leaders in the war. They all bowed in sight of the distant, imagined sun. “Then let us begin.”

When the Fae awake, their bodies had changed. Thick blue lines coursed through them like arteries. It pulsed faintly with every thought they had. For a moment they merely observed their own and eachothers enhanced form and the unique markings on each of them. Then Uthum spoke once more. “Mana is now part of you. It will adhere to your instincts, your wishes, your very thoughts. I name you the Cult of Oedon and now I give you your first task. Return to your kin and guide them. Teach them while your own powers grow. Make them shape the world around them through the glyphs you will discover for them. I must leave now. I grow weary and must rust. But do not tally. I may return soon.”