Despite everyone involved in the plan being either illiterate or hostile to each other, they had actually managed to draw up a pretty good plan. They’d wait until all the Soul Arms had been forged and then steal them from right under the Daman Clans’ noses in a swift operation set to take place late at night. Even New Dama’s particularly intimidating security forces would not have been an issue at all… That is, if things went according to plan, and they never do as Melena the Bright had quickly learned.

Everything had started off great with the Security patrol being taken out by Boot and his goons. It was the moment they forced the Temple of the Bronzed Bloom’s lock that everything went to hell, because an alarm in the form of parrots lining the ceiling started to blare and scream.

Their small bodies glowed with the telltale light of soul users, and every squawk and screech that came from their beaks sent shockwaves throughout the Temple’s Hall.

One of the three people that formed a part of Melena’s group, a tall and lanky avian mercenary called Pico clad in fancy ambroisen laced leather armour barked out an order that Melena couldn’t quite hear and then him and his two Eunomian brothers (a black furred horned rat-man covered in various gadgets named Deckard and a tawny beige skinned human who went by Jim and was an inconspicuous as they come) darted deeper into the Temple, disappearing behind one of the doors to either side of the altar. Melena had no choice but to follow.



Outside and lined along the edge of the Temple’s ornamental slanted roof crouched a number of raggedy hooded figures. Everyone seemed to twitch every time a parrot screeched its alarm until the leader of the figures, Boot, was called by a short lynx-eared woman. She took her eye off her monocular to grimace at the Rhinokin.

“They faster than thought, bos. Too dosen comin’. Even got Otori.”

Boot nibbled at the inside of his cheek. This would be an expensive night, he realised as he turned towards the huge cloaked figure sitting on the roof behind everyone else and nodded with a grunt. “Bust out ya thing. Ya know, tha thing.”

The hulking figure nodded, reached to his side and picked up an oversized trumpet case and with a click upended it up to reveal a… well trumpet

“What you bring the wrong ca-” one of the funkies began to say, before a finger was raised, the instrument extracted and then with a click the trumpet split perfectly in the centre, revealing the insides to be covered in magmatic gems and crystal wiring as the two halves slid appart to become the rails of the condeable launcher. The demon grinned beneath the hood, flipped open a hidden compartment that held the ammo and slipped it into the base of the rails, which gripped it and hung it in the air.

The instrument primed, all that was needed was for it to have a focalice of its cacophonous performance.

“Dam!” The lynx-girl hissed and pointed at the group of soldiers jogging down the main avenue called Bloom’s Walk, weaving through the empty stalls haphazardly parked all over the place. A single Otori Berserker that towered over everyone else shouted something unintelligible while pointing up at Boot’s unmistakable silhouette. “Shood shood!” She urged the demon, before being picked up by the back of her hood and moved aside by that same Demon. She let out a little hiss as she unceremoniously landed on her butt.

“What ya waiting for, Horns?” Huffed Boot.

A grunt was Bot’s reply, before the demon casually raised the disk launcher and fed power into them, causing an energetic hum before the explosive frisbee shot along the rails and then down into the approaching troopers. Expert and unhurried professional that he was, the demon had primed the disk near perfect, the projectile detonating in a flash of chaotic red lightning only a blink after it slammed into the Otori Berserker’s skull.

In the blink of an eye, what had been Eleanna’s Gate and the beginning of Bloom’s Walk turned into a sea of red flames and crackling lightning. Screams rang out from inside the houses lining the Walk as well as from the surviving members of the rapid response team as they stared at their missing and/or charred limbs. It was chaos.

It was also the first time Boot had seen the disc launchers in action.

“Dam!” hissed the wild lynx girl.

“Holy hell… Not even a fly left…” Muttered a one-eyed frog-man.

“Smells like mum’s cooking.” Shared a free silvan with a nostalgic smile on his face.

Everyone gave the silvan man a look.

“We’re never eating at yours, mate.” Said an owl-man, feathers puffed out so much he looked more like a stuffed toy than a real person.

“Keep it ready, Horns. More comin’ fo’ sure.”

“Mmmm” the demon replied simply, already rejuicing the batteries of the launcher, a second disk held in hand ready to be loaded in for the next explosive hit. Given the veritable concert worth of spare ammo the case held, and the wicked size of the demon’s horns, there’d be plenty more before the night was done.



Melena had always been told that she was talented. She’d always been told that she’d go far, and she never questioned it. Now, as she struggled to keep up with the swiftness of the foreign Eunomian mercenaries, she realised that talent and experience couldn’t really be compared. She made a mental note to apologise to Sun-Downer if she ever saw him again as she made one last turn and crashed into Jim’s back.

As they tumbled to the floor, she saw a large muscular woman with the fins of a shark holding a warhammer squaring off against Pico. A young silvan boy was perched behind her on top of a big shelf, pointing a glinting crossbow at them.

“C-Crystallista!” Melena called out, struggling to get back on her feet with Jim trying to do the same. The nondescript man seemed to have a better time of it, stumbling and scrambling almost comically instead of hitting the deck entirely. However, rather than foolishness an expert paying close attention would have noticed how every movement flowed seamlessly into the next, and how the erratic movement threw off the aim of the crossbowman and assessed him as a master of his own body. A layman would have been able to reach the same conclusion based on the fact that Jim managed to draw a pistol from his jacket pocket and fire off a shot while this was all going down, the stone thrower hurling a maeliteian diamond as its projectile.

The gemstone slug hit the boy’s crystallista head on. A loud crack followed a flash of light as the boy was thrown from his perch and against an opposite wall. A moment of silence took over the room.

Then the gorilla Smith roared and charged, swinging her hammer wildly. Melena rolled out of the way of an overhead strike -the bricks she had just been standing on turned into dust by the force behind the warhammer- and kicked the Smith in the back of her knee, forcing her to buckle with a high-pitched yelp.

Jim, his pistol already smoothly reloaded during the moment of silence, helpfully stepped in and pressed the stone-thrower’s muzzle to the smith’s forehead and then cocked an eyebrow at Melena as if to ask her what to do with this one.

Melena furrowed her brow, then stood up straight and dusted her trousers. A quick glance at the boy slumped inbetween two barrels in the corner of the room was enough for her to acknowledge that he was still breathing, eliciting a sigh of relief from deep within herself before she turned to the apekin Smith. “C’mon Mus, this kinda crap is exactly why you never made the cut...” Melena half-smiled at the Smith. Mus’ reply was a mere scoff, her eyes locked on the barrel of Jim’s pistol. “D, got the cuffs?” Melena called out to Deckard.

“If it will get you lot to quiet down and let me finish working then yes” came a shout from the rat man kneeling by the door to the basement, who rummaged around in his jacket pockets for a moment and then tossed over a contraption that could only be loosely described as cuffs.

It was more a central gemstone out of which four tendrils of stone extending from it. These could wrap around the subject’s arms forming a much more snug and tight fit than simple iron manacles.

Jim shrugged, indifferent at this show of mercy, and then held the gun in place until the maniciles were in place before smoothly stashing his weapon again. Moments after they were done with the smith there was a quiet click and victorious squeak of “I’m in!” as Deckard finished dealing with the door of the basement, having used a bunch of levitated pebbles as a lockpick.

The door swung open and the ratman stepped back and gestured thatricaly to the now open entrance to the underground “Ladies and gentlemen first, genius scoundrels second yes?” to which Jim simply rolled his eyes and casually strolled on into the danger ahead of his longtime partner.

Melena huffed and pushed her way past Jim and into the darkness of the basement. “We have no time for casual strolling, Jimbo!” She declared as she rushed all the way down the spiral staircase and fed some of her soul into the lightning system. A series of ceiling lamps lit up in sync after a second, just bright enough to allow one to see, but not so bright that they emitted much heat.

“Hmm… Soul Arm Eggs… Maybe if I look under ‘E’... Nope… What about ‘A’ for Arms…? Sticks…!” Melena muttered to herself as she began looking through the alphabetically-sorted dozens of shelves. “Oh no, this is why I always hated picking stuff up from this place…!” She groaned as her search gradually became more and more desperate.

There was a cough from down by the oversized S section to which Jim had sauntered while she was panicking. Once he had her attention he held up a hand showed her an unwrapped cloth ball that held a ring within, and then pointed a finger up to where his ratty companion had scrambled all the way to the top of the shelves and was busy stuffing the rest of the rag wrapped rings into his jacket pockets while complaining “Bits of a god and they don’t even have their own box, let alone a vault or something?!”

Melena blew a stray strand of hair away from her face, sighed, and placed down a random weapon handle back onto the shelf she’d been busy ruining. “It pisses me off too, it’s like they don’t care about Lady Eleanna at all.” She shook her head and swiped the ring that Jim held, stuffing it into her own pocket. “Let’s g-”

BOOM

The temple rumbled. Dust fell from the ceiling. A lamp broke.

After regaining her footing, Melena’s lion ears caught wind of a pair of people descending down the staircase, just in time for her to turn around and see Pico and a short, hooded lynx-woman appear.

“Milleeon sol-deers comin, Mel! Bos had ta run! We run to!” The lynx woman explained quickly and ran back up the stairs. Melena gave a quick glance to the Eunomian mercenaries, and then she followed the lynx woman.

The pair shared a glance for a half second, before the rat man cursed, grabbed the last few rings, and then leapt down from the shelf into Jim’s awaiting arms. There was no time for embracing however, and the duo swiftly hurried after the natives.

It was time to blow this joint.

And blow it up they did. As soon as they came up the stairs, they saw the massive hole in the wall, leading to the back gardens of the Temple and currently guarded by a single massive demon and a pair of panting, dagger-wielding outlaws.

A lanky chameleon man immediately shot his tongue at Deckard’s soul-arm stuffed pockets.

In the blink of an eye, a hole had been torn into Deckard’s jacket and more than a handful of the soul arms had been taken by the Chameleon man, who spit the soul arm rings back out and stuffed them into the front of his trousers.

“What the hell!” Pico yelled.

Jim, ever so stoic, pulled out his pistol and shot a diamond shard at the chameleon, who simply stepped to the side and dodged the bullet.

“Stewpids.” He hissed and disappeared into thin air. The other outlaw looked between the space where the chameleon man had been and the eunomian merc squad a few times before shakily throwing a dusklander smoke bomb at his feet and vanishing.

“Sticks!” Melena cursed, turning to inspect Deckard quickly, with the large demon still observing. “D, you okay?! Those perverts betrayed us!”

“Perverts is the right word, who just tongues a guy like that!” Deckard bitterly complained, wiping his ruined jaked clear of residual spit, then accepted a handkerchief from Jim to do a better job of it.

The big demon cleared his throat and then jerked his head to the side to indicate they should get moving.

“Right right let’s move. I can't believe I’m thankful they didn't have a box for them now!” Deckard said as he made to move, pawing through his jacket to check what they had left while Jims stepped ahead to guard his partner better this time while the Big demon took up the rear of their formation.

As dozens of footsteps echoed through the temple and the courtyard and surrounding structures were being consumed by a blazing inferno, Melena spurred into action and led everyone (Jim, Deckard, Pico, the Demon and the Lynxgirl) down to the far end of an unassuming alley and lifted a large iron grating with a grunt, having had to burn some soul to do it.

As soon as everyone had jumped into the newly-built sewers, she followed and closed the grating behind them.

And just like that, they had escaped the manhunt. And since Melena knew the sewers like the back of her hand thanks to her experience working as a sanitation specialist years ago, she also knew exactly how to lose her ‘companions’ in the sewers as well. She, after all, had plans for the Soul Arm she had snatched from Jim.

Eleanna couldn’t see.

Her gift of sight had been stolen. all she could feel were the dozens of pin prick-like sensations and the pulling along her eyelids. She could not open her eyes, for whenever she tried to do so, a fresh wave of searing white pain tore through her spine and brain.

Eleanna couldn’t speak.

Her gift of speech had been sealed. All she could feel was a strange numbness in her throat on top of her tongue doing the opposite of what she wanted it to do whenever she tried to speak.

Eleanna couldn’t move her hands or her feet.

Her gift of dexterity had been taken away. Her fingers hung dead in the air, with her wrists slit open and prevented from healing by what she could only guess was some kind of metallic fibre contraption. The same thing happened with her feet, her tendons cut off by the same kind of contraption.

Both old and new scars graced her naked form as she lay there slumped against a damp sandstone brick wall, her arms and neck cuffed tightly to the wall.

Imprisonment and torture can change a person.



It had been weeks since the heist. It took that long to convince the infant soul-arm to form a bond with her, who knew that artificial souls could be so stubborn?

Now, the young lion-kin walked through the haphazardly constructed hallways of the Sun-Talking Imprisonment Facility, A.K.A. the Sun Prison, dressed in rags and covered in bruises.

When she gave herself up to the New Daman authorities she didn’t expect to be beaten up, but such was life.

‘Lucky you even got here alive, Mel. I bet your friends killed dozens of their co-workers.’ A high-pitched voice popped up in her mind. It was Inertia, her Soul Arm.

It is what it is, Melena thought. She sighed openly and lagged a bit in her march through the prison. One of the two burly guards behind her, a shark-kin with no fins, pushed her forward with the butt of his spear. She grunted and sped up again.

“We’ve walked past the normal cells, guys.” Melena called out.

“You’re not a normal prisoner. You’re a Freak.” the other guard, a subjugated member of the Otori remnants, explained.

“Bit rude.” Melena rolled her eyes.

Of course, that was all part of her plan. Seconds turned to minutes as they kept walking, passing two checkpoints until they reached the Freak wing. The eye-watering stench immediately flooded Melena’s nostrils and she had to hold back an urge to gag. The guards weren’t so successful, though.

Eventually, they passed by a particularly dark cell with orichalk-reinforced bars. She couldn’t quite see the person that had been cuffed to the far wall, but she immediately knew who it was.

Melena only knew one person with that particular aura and that particular scent. She stopped walking, the shark-kin bumping up against her due to her sudden stop, eliciting a grunt from him and another push.

Melena turned around.

“The fuck-” The guards stepped back, levelling their weapons at her. Despite her bruised body, the strength behind her sudden posture was unmistakable. She raised her fists as a pair of elaborate, glowing gauntlets materialised on her hands.

“Well? Bring it on.”

In a rush of movement, the shark-kin charged, his spear aimed at her torso. She stepped aside and struck the shark-kin’s side as he charged past. He collapsed with a yelp behind Melena, holding his side tightly.

After the shark-kin came the Otori. He discarded his weapon from the get go, raising his fists in a mirrored stance to Melena’s.

“I won’t be that easy to take down, Freak.” He declared.

And thus the two fighters fought. It was a flurry of blows on both sides, with Melena maintaining a comfortable edge against the Otori man.

A minute after the fight had begun, both fighters with their faces and fists bloodied, Melena saw her chance.

The Otori man threw a kick aimed at her liver. Instead of dodging it, she turned her whole body to block it with her abs and grabbed his leg tightly before sweeping his supporting leg from under him.

Both she and the Otori man fell onto the dirty floor, but she had the advantage. She quickly threw herself on top of him and pushed her forearm down against his windpipe as hard as she could until he stopped moving, eyes rolled back into his skull and mouth foaming.

She took a moment to collect herself, but she eventually looted the guards’ keyrings and used one of the keys to open the door leading into the dark cell.

Once inside, she made her way to the prisoner cuffed to the wall and had to bite back a gasp as she saw Eleanna’s state.

“I was too late… I’m sorry. I’ll bust you out of here now.” Melena said after a while and ripped the tendon-severer devices out of the goddess’ wrists and ankles. Eleanna hissed soundlessly in pain, the dirty bloodied rag wrapped around her eyes in the form of a blindfold-bandage becoming wet with tears before she went limp, allowing Melena to break the rusty chains keeping her tied to the wall.

‘Deep inside, I know that’s her, but I always imagined my Mother to look… Different.’ Inertia whispered quietly.

Not giving the Soul Arm a response, Melena laid Eleanna down on the floor as she busted open a hole in the wall, leading to the outside of the facility. Immediately hearing alarms being raised inside the complex, Melena hoisted the unconscious Eleanna over her shoulders and ran out into the western wilderness. The authorities wouldn’t follow her there.

A dark shape moved through the frigid water, the little water birds that called fleeing into the relatively safety of the crystalline vegetation smothered in the light devouring sea floor. Despite their ducking for cover, the titan kept coming, opening up mighty jaws as if it intended to simply devour its way through the reef.

And that was, in fact, what its plan was, just not with jaws. Instead of devouring with its maw, life, instead, emerged from it. Beings with round armored heads, grasping claws and, at their core, a human, wearing/piloting the harvester diving suit.

The team of miner-gatherers descended the ramp from the airlock of their cylindrical submarine, a construction made up mostly of geomagnetically manipulated flesh rock covering and coated by the bones and scales of sea monsters. The humans in hulking scale clad armor advanced on the field of crystals, crouched down, and began using the massive cutting claws on their suits to begin snipping at and cutting up the glittering bounty, severing the raw diamonds and unstable crystals from their roots with one hand, and then catching the crystals in another which stashed them in various storage sacks and pouches.

Elsewhere in the sea similar vessels slipped beneath ice and waves, hunting beasts and fowl or excavating vast amounts of umbrium, all in the name of industry and prosperity.

On land the population had grown from the initial group of colonists squatting in a single settlement to a sprawling realm of towns and cities, mostly built around ports on the coast. Those ports were the lifeblood of the realm, for both the new submarines and the more traditional seafaring vessels brought food and wealth from the sea, which in turn tempted more colonists from across it to set sail for the island, seeking a new life free from the fear of the wars that plagued much of the world. There were peoples from the realms under the triunvarate’s power, of course, but also beastfolk seeking a new life, and followers of the fallen mage god fleeing the massive wolf incursion presently ravaging the lands to the south not already embroiled in the war of life and death.

A true melting pot of people and ideas, and though it was nowhere close to being the crown jewel that was Eunomia, Xavior, looking down at it all from Shelly’s tower, was proud both of the people who had built it, and, of course, of himself for his own little additions here and there. However, while he had been doing his usual patronage and benefactor shtick, he’d been mostly tucked away in his tower on Shelly’s back, tinkering.

Most of his little projects had been simple things but the little stone he held in his hand as he stood atop the tower gazing out to sea? Oh that, that was something different. He gave it a little admiring stroke, and then hefted it back and hurled it out into the dead sea, where the nodes held no sway.

With a little plop it hit the water, unharmed despite the fall, and then sank, sank, sank, down, down, down, til it hit the ocean floor. It sat there for a moment. Motionless. Completely indistinguishable from the rest of the near identical stones also scattering the ocean floor. Then, cracks formed along its surface, the stone splitting apart at perfect seams as it revealed itself to actually be a little crab golem. It stood up on tiny legs, skittered around in a circle, and then approached a nearby rock and proceeded to give it a little chomp.

Magmatic energy pulsed from the point of the “wounded,” soaking into the stone that began to rapidly heat up, the water around it flash boiling for a moment before the reaction finished. The bite mark closed up as other cracks formed and the new rock crab came to life.

It stood, waved its eyestalks at its progenitor, and then both crabs wandered off and repeated the process, creating yet more crabs. Crabs upon crabs upon crags. Endless crabs, all free. They would spawn, multiply and spread out across the place where nothing lived and the gods could not sculpt, and see if there was anything to be seen.

And then, once the ocean had been picked clean, they would return.

♦ Everglow

The bells of mourning for a dead goddess were the ring of opportunity for many in Badja Kiri, although now it encompassed more universalist learning, it once was merely an outpost meant to explore and exploit the nearby maelite, and many still held similar curiosity, only held back by the fact it was foreign land under a different goddess to their own.

That changed, and as soon as the news of Monica's fall arrived, many of the most ambitious and less careful scholars started to prepare a great westward trek to claim some of that land for themselves, other did it out of fear of the council in Eunomia getting a true monopoly on umbrium, an element most essential for alchemy.

The previous invention of magical masks helped to keep MOST of the harmful effects of the Maelite away, but, the most essential of alchemists made sure they wore the actual harder to get the protection that truly made them fully safe.



The Everglow Hall, as it would be called for foreigners, was the ultimate result of such a trek, born out of necessity of a base... and out of fear that going back to Badja Kiri without a lot of results would result in all alchemists and scholars demoted. Given the news of how scandalized most were at their harsh and sudden move as well as the amount of sick workers and explorers whose simple glowing masks didn't stop some level of maelite poisoning, mainly resulting in blindness.

The building itself was quite charming, made by ambitious alchemist scholars, both protecting the people and housing them on over 800 rooms as well as offering a beacon of everglowing color in the dark of the Maelite, the latter attracted people like moths to a lamp, a city started to spread despite the Hall itself being so close to an abyssal fissure, alchemical metal and stone giving people the courage to even settle the cliffside of said abyss.

Ironically, what people sought there wasn't the flow of umbrium, but the structures they had built to house those who did, soon the workers and even the lower scholars found themselves moving out of the halls, while the building itself became filled with dusklander tourists interested in the complete darkness of the maelite and outsider tourists aiming for one of the least regulated dusklander cities.



♦ Magnum Opus

The silver sands dunes of node 9 were a desolate land, lunar rabbit farmers had their homes here and there, as the demand of dusklanders and foreigners for the fur was beyond this world, and hunters on horseback did at times try their luck against the local wyrms. Otherwise, one could walk for days without meeting a person.

So it was notable to all when fleets of boats started to traverse the liquid nitrogen lakes, even without the lack of people, there would be a second notable aspect, because so far nobody had managed to navigate these 'waters', the creeping freeze of the liquid would climb up the wooden boats and turn man, wood and sail alike into a crystal. These ships however were made of metal, and with a faint blue glow floated 'above' the waters, levitating across their path using magical powers. A closer inspection and one would notice the design was not that dissimilar from a daman chariot.

Their destination was the second great forge.

If the Deep Cinnabar Forge was one of extreme excess and violence, with giant hammers and magmatic fire forcefully opening the path to the materials needed, then the Silver Forge, the Celestial Forge, was the antithesis of it. The Tower and The Forge were a place of gentle and delicate crafts. A cold forge where not a single fire was lit. Instead of hammering, the blacksmiths would work with small drills and silent diamond-bladed brushes. Instead of flowing lava, it was home to still ponds of acidic materials being lightly charged with electricity. Minerals were not extracted from the ground by grinding and crushing but were raised from the rock over months and years in the form of crystals. Bodies were not exhausted and sweaty, but minds were constantly challenged as trained alchemists manipulated electrical and magnetic formulas to shape the metal.



The Sparkdriver was the first invention of this forge. Synthesizing lightning was always a Dusklander dream, but even their electricity was 'harvested' from atmospheric and telluric currents, not self-made. The discovery the body produced such celestial energies was shocking to them, but to the wiser, such as Nyoriko, it was the last piece of the puzzle, their minds went directly to the false bodies of the Daman and the power to draw energy from the soul.

Soon, with only minimal cases of fatal poisoning while they tried to master the use of mercury-ambrosia tattoos to better gather and filter the energies from the body, they had managed it. The Sparkdrive was both a set of gloves and tattoos on the body, as well as what alchemists called a 'filter' but most would simply call a rifle, given how the soul glass pipe attached to a metallic device looked, and acted, similar to a musket.

These lightining muskets took a place in the dusklander armies, but it never overtook the crossbows, which fired faster, were easier to produce and had also been enhanced by the celestial forge, as they had synthesized umbrium into a obsidian like crystal, often called maelite glass. It did have much less piercing power than metal and shattered upon impact, but the material was light, sharp and most importantly, poisonous.

Another invention was Stella-Steel, a metal that while not as sharp as the dark steel from the cinnabar forge, did have a useful feature, the metal was uniform and flawless, made in a porous manner that did not influence the durability of the material. When poured with flaming oil not only would the blade be deeply imbued and therefore last longer, but it also would not lose its edge and consistency with the increased heat.

Yet no work of the celestial forge would gain more fame than Mithril. From Mitsi Taralle, Magnum Opus in Dusklander.

One of the first synthesized materials of the forge, an all-metal meant to be made of paradoxical aspects, it was for a long time unusable, possible to create but impossible to work down, as it resisted all pressure on it until a breaking point, at which point it would quickly collapse into useless dust.



It was Nyoriko with her studies of godly power and her many samples of whatever she could get, mostly Dzallitsunya's blood, that found the solution. After many deep and genial mathematical theorems, the master engineer gave up as it was too paradoxical, senseless and beyond mortal understanding, this led to the absurd idea of perhaps trying to use blood, especially godly blood, into the recipe of the amalgam of metals, after all, blood did carry and dissolve certain metals, and a metal this paradoxical needed an equally paradoxical solvent.

To her surprise, it did work, and the first mithril plates were created.

Visually, the metal is already striking, with a gradient of colors from gold to magenta to cyan, and with the light reflecting in a way similar to what it does on water. The texture is absurdly smooth, once again, reminding one more of gels and glass rather than metal, but cold and hardness of the material gives no doubt about its metallic nature.

In action, it was a light metal, a strong metal, a flexible metal and an unyielding metal, used to make bound plates on the armor of the most elite of all soldiers. As if they were clad in molten mirrors reflecting the pink twilight sky. When struck the material will not only go unscratched, but, one will feel as if the momentum of the impact was lost upon touching it, once again being analogue to water and soft gels which disperse the energy of what moves against it, but in a material unpierceable and hard like a metal plate. Should the mithril ever be scratched, however, one will be surprised at how quickly it falls apart. The blood made it malleable to make armor out of, but the nature of the material continued the same, it resists all force until a breaking point, even if it is merely a small imperfection or scratch, it results in the total annihilation of the material, the whole plate shattering into minuscule dust.

A flood of legionaries stood on the hills of the 13th/14th region border. The verdant road was packed tight with Anak’thas’ soldiers and he himself stood with his elite knights at the fore. It had been too long since he had stepped foot in the 13th realm, his first home, and after today, he was sure he would never have to leave it again. And why would he? It’s his. Looking up at the endless blue sky, he swallowed the vision of his paradise.

“My Lord.” The voice of Anak’thas’ most trusted advisor came up from his right. He still didn’t know the man’s name, nor was he interested.

The mode of light that served as the gods eye flickered over to the pragmatically armored advisor, only to find him pointing to the horizon. Following his finger, he could see a dark line form in the distance, the ranks of his enemy.

“I know…” Anak’thas said, unamused by the assumption that human eyes could have seen them before he.

On the other side stood two of the three great dusklander armies, the banners of Hatzur and Daga, curiously the third army, the one they had met the most, the banner of Theodoro, traitor of Node 13 and most often rival of the legion, was nowhere to be seen, an unpleasant wildcard in the great, and final, battle that was to come.

Both sides knew of this, as the dusklander cards were also all on the table, for years the battles had dwindled to skirmishes of small groups, but now both sides were so numerous as to clad the horizon with their flowing flags and banners.

“I don’t see her,” the advisor said. If Anak’thas had teeth, he would be gritting them.

“She will come,” he answered. Raising his arms, he let golden ribbons swirl and circle them, his mighty vambraces of light pulsing with power. “She will have to come.”

The magic around him crackled and popped as it grew, the swirling ribbons coming together to form a large ball of golden light that kept growing and growing. Anak’thas’ knights gulped from their powersuits, they could feel the static energy from even behind the god. Sound clapped and with a bang, the orb of destruction launched from Anak’thas and towards his enemy.

The shadows grew as the overwhelming light crossed the field, then, they lunged at it, rising from the ground in a single focal point, the goddess of dusk had arrived, dashing against it and stopping its descent. The power was so immense the goddess would be pushed back as she tried to stop it, leaving a trail of dust and torn apart ground as her heels would grind against the ground. The core of her army, supposedly clad in magical unbreakable metals, was forced to open up its ranks and move aside as the simulacrum of a sun dove past them, only held back by small petals of shadow.

Ultimately, despite her efforts to keep the angle upward, the sphere of destructive power dove into the ground and exploded into a pillar of flames. The goddess' attempt to stop it did give her army the possibility of avoiding it, but it also meant taking the brunt of the power upon her own body.

Not even the most optimistic of Anak’Thas believers however held the hope this would be the end of the shadow witch, soon the pure bright flames, still rising, gained a taint of black as the profane sword Eclipse ate its light away, dwindling into a hellish glow as the shadows crept back on the field, giving the dust raised by the explosion a hellish had.

And from that the dark figure of the goddess emerged, she walked as if unharmed, but those who could see her in detail would see that her right side had been seriously wounded, charred jade butterflies falling off in shatters as their protection had failed on that area, scars of burns creep from the arm all the way up to the now blind right eye. Her army was shocked at her state for a good moment, their morale only rising again as she picked up the Eclipse and pointed it towards Anak’Thas, declaring the battle to have started as the men roared, the bells rang and the horns blared.

Anak’thas’ own troops rushed forward, peppered with mechanical knights and a few golems that shook the ground. It was a blast of sound when both lines collided, blood being ripped from either side. At the head of it all, Anak’thas commanded a devastating presence, his beams of light sawing through the enemy as he made his way to Dzallitsunya.

“Sister! I see you!” His voice was drowning in anger.

“It was about time, do you tire of hiding behind your people, brother?” the goddess retorted, her voice much colder.

“I tire of seeing you slaughter them, usurper! You and Benea shall pay for your crimes!” The lantern god let out a howling blast of light, the crackling energy cutting above some soldiers and darting towards his new target.

Waving the shadow petal, the goddess darted straight to Anak’Thas, diving under the light and rising near the god. “Your dedication to being a fool is unmatched, I gave you many chances to change your path, you wasted all of them. No more, you are blinded by the flame of your own pride and too many were burned by it, today, darkness comes, and all shall be brought under the shadow.” slicing at a few nearby legionnaires, the goddess of dusk tried to make lunge towards Anak’Thas.

A golden lattice forced between the two, catching the Goddess’ attack and limiting her direct movement. The light in Anak’thas’ left hand buzzed holding the lattice like a shield, while his right formed a mighty sword. He hefted his sister off his shield of light with a shove and dove after her with his blade.

Using her relic, the goddess stopped her apparent fall midway and immediately held her sword up, clasing with the striking blade of Anak’Thas, who clearly held the upper hand in that first strike, however, it was not enough to overpower the goddess, who parried the blade and took a more ready stance. What followed was a clash of the blades of light and darkness as the two traded blows.

Over time, Anak’thas managed to pour more of his magic into his weapon, adding fuel to his impressive strikes. Each clash against Eclipse sent shockwaves around the fighting pair, shaking the ground and knocking away any immediate fighters. The battle that raged rang them, not daring to get too close to their heated exchange.

As hard as Anak’thas was hitting though, Dzallitsunya was faster and managed to dip and dive between his strikes with grace and ease, only further enraging the lantern god. His powerful strokes started to miss more often, renting the ground and sending shards of rock to the sky.

---

The battle was truly chaotic as both sides involved had developed much that they had not shown in the skirmishes. Mages of Anak’Thas had grown more powerful and focused, with a wider variety of spells far more adapted to the battle field, their suits too had been adapted and refined, some made bigger and bulkier while others were made light and agile.

On the dusklander side, alchemical materials and devices controlled the field, the shower of maelite glass tipped bolts denied the legion the possibility of using lighter troops while the sparkdriver rifles cracked many of the less prepared heavier troops. By now the legion had noticed Mithril in play, and started to single out such soldiers with their magical heavy troops, though the typical tactics of smashing or grabbing and throwing the soldiers far off were ineffective thanks to the impact retardant property of the alchemical material, the legion soon found themselves taking spears of magical ice or halberds from fallen dusklands to instead attack the mithril troops and with them finding better results.

This focus of the heavier troops around the dusklander’s elite opened the previously unbroken metal wall of the legion, typically the dusklanders were a slow moving force, so the legion felt safe in such a situation, the mithril clad swordsmen were the main threat. Furthermore, the lighter troops and mages were protected by resonating faith barriers and thus neither crossbow, spark drivers nor silver cannons would be able to harm them.

But, under the influence of an eclipse, the field had been dark, the main source of light being the increasing fury of the lantern god and the faint glow of the eclipsed sun, and in that shadowy world a mass of darkness had been waiting, and now it charged towards the light of the legion.

As it approached, the first suspicious eyes of footmen clad in boiled leather started to be drawn towards the enemy side, the only hint of it being the dark banners flowing against the purple of the twilight sky. Then the sound of hooves attracted even the most distracted soldiers, and all gasped in shock as fires were lit in the weapons of the enemy, finally revealing what was coming for them. Dark riders in dark horses and raptors, stellasteel morning stars now lit in alchemical fire, the meteor hammer as it would be called, swinging rapidly before clashing against the soft barrier in a barrage of steel and flame. In that chaos, raven masked warriors from node 19 started to dash into battle, dark knives and arrows aiming for none but the forward mages of Anak’Thas.

Avian screechs and hoots echoed among the screams of man, as Sally’s Selected, a group of Daman Landers, dove into battle, aiming for the back line of Anak’s faithful, armed with their claws and iron needles in their wings, they expected a quick annihilation of their worst enemies, as the mages’ craft could break apart troop of orichalk and mithril alike, yet soon found themselves countered as guards and archers had been carefully placed among the chanting mages, protecting and countering the harpy’s strike.

The breaking of the light troops was the sign the legion needed to no longer hold back either. A loud ring of brass silenced the field for a moment as the three sentinels rose up, ambrosian armors of unequal power, two with flails and the central one with a hammer of war, bringing strikes of such power no armor could hold back, and with a protection so thick the cracks of lightning against the brass did little beyond negligible scarring.

Meanwhile, the broken apart mage groups the dusklanders foolishly considered finished proved their zeal one final time, starting to rush against the dusklander troops chanting their final prayers, bringing with them great spells that could freeze the warm blood of man or break the ground apart into flowing lava.

---

In the heart of the carnage and chaos, the battle had continued, an impasse as the light did not find the speed to cast off the shadows, but the darkness did not find enough strength to blot out the blazing lamp. After one such clash, Anak’thas floated backwards and pushed his lattice outward to cover him. His sword dissolved for a moment as a great orb started to grow in his right hand. A frustrated hum vibrated from his form. “This will be the end.”

Having already lost an eye to such a thing, the goddess did not have faith in surviving a second strike, but to move away was to let her own people die, and that she could not do. Her mind raced for a solution, and the first priority was to make sure that should this be her end, then it might as well be the end of her enemy as well. Striking the earth with Eclipse and charging it with her godly power, the goddess summoned from the blade’s own shadow a rose bush, of smoky quartz petals and obsidian thorns. It quickly followed the light of Anak’Thas and clashed with the lattice, a battle between the light consuming petals and the light-given-form ensuing, though a stalemate was all needed for a branch to reach further, attach itself to the flowing cape of the lamp-holder and start to spread from there, obsidian tearing apart all it could touch.

Yet, the spells reached its completion, as the goddess knew it would, ironic, that what she faced now was all she reviled so much, the concentration of pride and rage, of unjustified rightfulness and frustration at the world that did not turn around itself. It disgusted her to the core, but it was an old enemy, and that would be her one chance at salvation.

She raised her hood over her head and took a running stance, wind starting to be cut apart as she prepared herself with the power of the shadow petal. Anak’thas’ lattice wavered as his left hand turned to a heated knife of light, hacking at the strangling vines only for them to regrow stronger with each cut. He groaned, his right hand still growing in immense power. The lack of concentration kept the light crackling, threatening release at any second.

Dzallitsunya kept the power of the shadow petal growing and growing, and finally, she jumped forward, a loud bang and then complete silence as sound itself lagged behind her, her aim holding the cape over her face she dove at immense speed straight towards the very core of the faux-sun.

A ball of burning plasma left on the other side, the goddess opening her cape to cast off most flames, though the lingering embers still quickly ate away at Shadow Petal. Right behind her, the orb started to turn on itself after the core damage, starting to implode. In her hand, the goddess held a blade of dark, cold steel with a faint red glow, though her relic was breaking apart, with the last bit of movement manipulation allowed to her, she twirled gracefully and threw the knife which she had used to cut apart the hell of burning light inside the orb with her aim being none other than Anak’Thas true form, the lamp being carried by the wraith.

A sickening crash sounded as the blade smashed through the divine glass. Anak’thas’ mote grew wide with surprise and his power faded from his arms. The collapsing ball of energy spasmed for a moment before engulfing him in the deadly light. A loud baritone yell erupted from the god as his own power started to consume him until all at once there was a clapping explosion.

The force of the blast knocked Dzallitsunya backwards and blinded onlookers. Through the pink negatives, Anak’thas was gone, all but a crater remained. Above where he stood, the sky bled a sharp red, flashing angrily. Under the angry glare of the sky, the battle started to slow — as if unsure. Murmurs mixed with the wails of the wounded, only to jump with a yell as a black crack slashed across the bleeding sky.

At the edge of the crater, the surviving goddess rose up against the carmine sky, coughing and taking inventory of her body, her limbs, her equipment. She still wore the scars sustained in the beginning of the battle, her clothes were left as half-burnt tatters, more shockingly, her trustworthy Shadow Petal was fully torn, having taken most damage from the sun dive. Though she shared a solemn second to mourn the cape, her eyes quickly focused on the black slash on the scarlet sky, questions quickly filling her mind as never before had it lasted so long nor had the black rot spread across it in such a way.

The armies around here were stilled by the sight and a budding realization crept up on Dzallitsunya; the lives of all Anak’thas’ surviving followers were now hers to judge.

---

Above Benea, a crimson sky broke what would otherwise be a boring scene.She stood by the node of the 17th region, her paladins covered in the blood of its vain defenders. In the far distance, her ships crowded the shores, hauling even more soldiers of hers into the region to stabilize it against remaining holdouts. The goddess herself was just patting her own back, congratulating herself on splitting Anak’thas’ attention for her sister Dzallitsunya when the sky broke. Now she was staring up at it with a furrowed brow.

Pursing her lips, she let her eyes flicker down to her hand, which was still laid upon the surface of the 17th node. Unlike how it usually was, the node was warmer to the touch — almost hot. Benea let out a long sigh. “Are you waking up already?”

“What do you mean?” Jermane peered over her shoulder.

Turning to meet his eye, Benea said, “the first signs of the triggering event are upon us, dear.”

Melena waved goodbye to their latest hosts, a wide grin on her face as her long golden hair flowed in the morning breeze.

“Thanks for the food and the warmth, Jacques, Marie! Good luck with the cubs!” She shouted and laughed, then turned and walked away from the cosy little homestead. Jacques and Marie, a newlywed couple living in a lonely part of the foot of the World’s Reach, had been gracious enough to house both Melena and Eleanna for a week after having found the pair struggling to travel through the particularly rough north-dusklands terrain. In that week, Melena had gotten to know the couple well enough to consider them friends, and though it pained her to have to leave so soon without being able to pay back her debt for providing Eleanna a place to rest, she had to keep going.

It was perhaps a fortnight or two ago when they came across a travelling Artificer, one who had been running from the conflict like everyone else seemed to be doing. The old insectoid man seemed delighted to be able to provide Eleanna with all the assistance he could give, removing the tendon-severers and throat-slicer from her body, as well as providing a trio of rudimentary sight beads which he implanted into her forehead, as a workaround for her eyes which had been maimed beyond even divine healing.

Since then, with every day that passed, Eleanna’s physical condition improved a little bit. When they had first broken out of the Sun Prison, the once-superhuman goddess couldn’t even walk. Now, she could hike for hours. Divine bodies were really something else, Melena thought, but what they made up for with their bodies’ resilience and physical ability they lacked in mental fortitude.

The young Lion-kin sighed. Her golden eyes glinted in the early morning’s sunlight as she tied her hair into a loose ponytail and adjusted her pack as well as Eleanna’s, then she walked with the Goddess following a few steps behind.

“Nothing better than a long walk with freshly cleaned washed right Anna?” Melena asked with a smile.

Eleanna opened her mouth slightly, but offered no further response.

“I know, I know they’ll get dirty again, but hey! Maybe we’ll meet more nice people along the way and maybe they'll let us borrow their soap, you know? It’s a nice change of pace don’t you think? To go from crazy adventures to a simple journey to meet an old friend of yours?”

Eleanna closed her mouth and walked a little bit faster.

“Let’s just hope she’s back from the war down south. We can’t afford to wait for her in a city forever, not with the three stooges following us…”

Smoke welled up under the chariot’s hot pink hood and leaked out via the many cracks and dents along the metal surface. The smoke itself was either black or yellow, and seemed to be building up faster and faster.

From inside the cockpit, Mozmoz sighed and let herself sink into her fancy synthetic leather driver’s seat which was, of course, much too big for her.

She removed the soaked sweatband off her forehead and swept her matted hair back, then blew her nose into a tissue, furrowing her brow as she saw hints of blood in the mucus.

“Qui, I really don’t thin-” Mozmoz froze as she turned to look at her partner, who looked as fresh as ever and was currently dabbing some kind of random cosmetic powder on her cheeks. “Shut the hell up! You’re doing your makeup at a time like this! Did you even share the engine burden with me at all?”

Quiqui giggled and shrugged. “Nuh-uh. You really expect me to show up to tonight’s dance with a bloody nose and demon eyes? No thanks!”

Mozmoz huffed. “It’s cause of that ‘Sun-Downie’ guy I guess? Sounds like your type.”

“Sun-Downer. And duh, he’s a silver fox. Or I guess a silver bull? I definitely have the height thing down unlike you, shorty.”

“Says the airhead.” Mozmoz pursed her lips.

“Says the tomboy.” Quiqui smirked.

“Men like tomboys.”

“Not when they refuse to wear eyeliner, no.”

“The hell does eyeliner have to do with anything?! It’s all a rip off anyway, that Beneavolence stuff.”

“Try it before you talk smack, Mozzy!” Quiqui offered a small oval-shaped object to Mozmoz, almost as if she’d had it ready for that exact moment.

“Eh…”

Quiqui groaned and pushed the object into Mozmoz’s hand, then kicked open her cockpit and jumped out. She was careful to avoid any of the more dangerous parts of the chariot, and walked all the way over to one of the detached wheels, a whole couple dozen paces away from the vehicle and right on the edge of the public Internodal 1. Once sat down, she pulled out a small white cylinder out of her pocket and lit the tip on fire with a lighter, then took a deep drag.

A few minutes after that, Mozmoz jumped out of her side of the cockpit and walked up to Quiqui’s side before plopping down on the grass.

“So… How do you use this stuff?”

Quiqui nearly snorted as she turned to look at Mozmoz’s face, with scribbles of black paint all over her eyelids, making her look more like a raccoon than a sexy ratkin.

“Yeah yeah, laugh at the poor little tomboy.” Mozmoz rolled her eyes. Quiqui was silent, uncharacteristically so.

Then she heard it, the rhythmic thumping of a hundred sets of plated boots. The distant clanging of metal plates, and the telltale glint of reflected light washing over the hill to the South, in the direction of the 16th region.

Dotting the horizon, the strange army came to a halt and then it happened. A massive gust of wind came howling over the hills, slapping Mozmoz and Quiqui in the face with a stiff gust. A glittering dragon spilled into view soon after, its titanic wings blasting spiralling torrents with each beat deep in the reddened atmosphere. The creature circled above, blotting out the sun. And then, gracefully, the dragon descended and landed in the middle of the wide road (engulfing it entirely) with one last mighty flap of its glittering wings.

That last flap, of course, knocked the beauty pair off their seats and onto their backs, sinking into the calf-high grass.

“W-What in the flying…!”

Benea’s head popped over the side of the dragon’s neck, a gentle smile on her face and a bubbling glass of something-something in her hand. “Hello there, dears, do you know where I can find the people in charge of this region?”

Mozmoz raised an eyebrow and struggled her way up to a sitting position, then raised the other eyebrow as soon as she saw Quiqui’s wide eyes, trembling brow and gawping mouth.

“Oh. My. Bloom.” The tall mousekin said slowly, lifting her hands to cover her mouth.

“What? What? Don’t tell me this is real? For real?” Mozmoz bit the tip of her tongue as she took in the sight of the dragon and the woman on top. “Hey!” She shouted, “You look lik-” Quiqui quickly lunged at Mozmoz, shutting her up by sticking pretty much her whole hand in her mouth.

“A-Ah, uh! Oh Bloom. Y-You’re the main model for the Beneavolence brand, aren’t you? I saw you on the posters last month! I sent you so many letters, and so many gifts! I love the moisturiser lotion that just came out last season, you know!”

Mozmoz tried to speak, but all her words came out muffled and all her struggling was ineffective against Quiqui’s death grip.

Benea couldn’t stifle her laughter and let out a snorting cackle from atop her dragon. “That’s just adorable, dear, do you want me to sign your…” A pause as she looked Quiqui over. “Well whatever, I suppose.”

Quiqui beamed, a high-pitched squee escaping her throat as she jumped up and ran back to the chariot, releasing Mozmoz in the process, who coughed and spat a few times before looking up at Benea’s barely visible face, seeing the ‘supermodel’ sip on her drink through a rather brightly coloured blue-yellow stripped straw.

“What kinda supermodel doesn’t wear her own makeup brand? You really from the Snowlands? Whatever, you or your army can do anything to us, we’re officially recognised racers.” The short mouse girl declared with a huff and crossed arms.

“Can’t fix perfection I’m afraid, dear,” Benea called back before taking another sip. In the background, one could barely hear Quiqui squeal in excitement at hearing the famous line. The squeal grew louder as the tall mouse lady came trampling back with a huge rucksack held in between her arms, which she dropped onto the ground and opened to pick out a single framed drawing.

“P-Please sign my Beneavolent Portrait please!”

Benea gave Quiqui the sort of smile a parent might give a toddler. “Of course, dear.” She turned to look behind her and shouted. “Jermane! Sign this sweet thing’s picture!”

A baritone roar came from behind the scales of the dragon. “At once, ma’am!”

With a loud grunt, a castle of a man came falling from the dragon. He landed on the road with a bang and rammed a sword bigger than both Mozmoz and Quiqui combined into the ground. Marching over he shoved a massive hand under his plated armor and yanked out a pen.

“Picture, please, miss.” The giant rumbled.

Both women stared at the man slack-jawed. Even Quiqui, being the tallest woman to ever be born in the Ratcaves, was a full head shorter than Jermane, and Mozmoz, well… After a minute, Quiqui quietly offered the drawing to him, the only sound that resonated throughout the area being the squeakiness of the pen. Then, after all was done and Jermane turned to leave, Mozmoz cleared her throat.

“Hey, you’re uh. That guy that’s on the powerwasher posters in New Dama, right? Shirtless?”

“Are you flirting with gentle Jermane, here?” Benea called out from the dragon, almost teasing as the giant of a man yanked his weapon free from the earth.

“O-Obviously not! I’m just saying! There’s a dance tonight at, uh…” Mozmoz trailed off.

Quiqui intervened, “The Vulpes’ Estate! I’m sure they’d love to have you there. I can bring you Benea, and Mozmoz can bring Jermarvelous! There’ll be drinks and food and a mixed hot spring.”

Benea perked up. “Oo! Jermane, a hot spring!”

“We have the army, my Queen, and the triggering event.”

Scrunching her nose, Benea answered, “true. I’m sorry lovelies but we really do need to be getting to the node and your government as soon as possible, you know, before the world ends.”

“Node? Wait, you’re a God?” Mozmoz asked in surprise. “You look too… Capable. Plus I haven’t seen any god since Eleanna got put behind bars. I thought they were all dead.”

“Don’t be rude, Mozz!” Hissed Quiqui as she elbowed her best friend in the shoulder. “Uhm, anyway, yeah just follow this road north-north-east and you’ll get to New Dama. Might have to ask little Orbita for permission to take it over, though…”

“Thank you, dear,” Benea smiled down at the pair. “And don’t you two worry, your favorite Benea will up and fix the tear in the sky and see us all safe and sound.” With little else, the dragon rocketed up to the sky with a subsonic blast of air and dirt.

Long after the dragon had flown over the horizon and as the regular footmen were marching past, Quiqui pat Mozmoz on the shoulder and grinned. “So Tomboy Mozz has a thing for Massive Manly Men? I thought you were into girls for a while there.”

Mozmoz zipped up her jumpsuit and pulled up her collar to cover her face. “Shaddup.”

It had been weeks, or maybe even months, since Vatarr retreated behind his recently erected walls and trenches. Griffith had screened the border with “men” and deliberated an assault. Reports had come in about the emergence of new fauna that seemed suspiciously effective against the offspring in a manner he’d not encountered in any other realm — surely Vatarr’s doing. Talia and her group gathered a variety of these plants and herbs for the magi to study. Nea was still tied up in stabilizing the leaderless 22nd realm, Dorian and Duncan hadn’t been heard from since they left, and now Grym had a real army knocking on their door.

Gryf couldn’t afford a drawn out engagement, even one where he’d win, so he hatched a plan. He staged a retreat during the night with his entire force, an act so obvious that it couldn’t be missed or ignored, all the while Talia’s numbers would disperse throughout the 26th realm starting a number of fires throughout the realm to create chaos. Gryf pushed up to the 27th realm’s Northwestern border and feigned an assault, hopefully prompting Vatarr to act as rashly as he’d done when he invaded the 23rd realm and draw him out. And there amid the northern foothills of the 27th realm, Gryf got his answer.

The wind was particularly ragged that morning, with a freezing chill coming in from the East, a chill that brought a smile to Garravar’s face as he walked alongside Gryf, a smile that set everyone on edge.

“The winds of change are upon us,” was all Garravar said when prompted about his mood, settling the matter as quickly as it came up. The pair of gods turned from one another and looked back over the hills, where smoke was rising here and there from their screening forces and in areas the atmosphere cleared, a sickly yellow haze of spores hung. For a fake assault, it was quite convincing.

“And it’s about dam time. I’ve been idling on Vatarr’s border for weeks.” Gryf scoffed. “Once we kill Vatarr, we should speak — the north has begun to move.”

All at once the air behind Garravar shimmered and a resounding bang exploded. The heavy ball of Vatarr’s weapon, Death, slammed against the winter god’s head, shattering it into a cloud of crystal flakes. The antlered god smiled, his face visible for just a moment. “Kill who?”

With a flush, Garravar’s body shattered and drifted into the wind only to reform next to Gryf, an unamused glare stuck on his face. “Some things are just beyond coincidence.” But as Garravar’s quip left his mouth, Vatarr was already invisible again.

Gryf's vision shifted from side to side looking for any sign of movement, one hand firmly clenched around the grip of his blade. As he drew the hefty blade from its sheathed, he turned directly toward Vatarr's current position with a boisterous smirk.

"Vatarr." The name slipped out just above a whisper. A faint vermillion glow appeared around the blade, one that also outlined and revealed Vatarr to him as well. The name became etched into the base of the blade itself and Gryf charged a bewildered Vatarr, swiping at him through the chaotic mist with reckless abandon. Perhaps he'd be fast enough to enter and leave before its effects took their toll, but Gryf was fully prepared to lose an arm if it meant cutting off that smug bastard's head.

The blade tugged on rotting flesh and just as Gryf’s right hand began to melt, he passed through the cloud. Turning back he could see the magical outline of Vatarr stumble for a moment. A surprised “...How?” fell from the deer god’s mouth — the arm that held healing had been severed, his weapon on the ground. He reached for it, but a frosty hand —simmering endlessly in the chaotic cloud— picked it up first.

An evil smile stretched across Garavar’s face as he backed away from the fight. “This will be interesting.”

Not giving Garravar more than a growl, Vatarr spun around, Death swinging wide at Gryf.

“Ow ow ow, fuckin’ son of a- nnnngh!” Gryf whined. Unlike his predecessor, Gryf’s body had warm flesh and live nerve endings with which to feel the excruciating pain of his arm nearly being dismantled. It remained mostly in tact, though somewhat deformed from the chaotic decomposition and fungal spores sprouted in various spots. Not much time was left for him to whine however, as Vatarr reacted. Afraid of being caught in the cloud again, Gryf threw himself horizontally away from Death’s aura. This hasty reaction put him in a rough tumble through dust and rubble, allowing him to avoid the worst of Death’s effects, but further inhibiting his misshapen appendage. Gryf’s silhouette slowly appeared to stand in the billow of dust that had kicked up, only now the blade was in his left hand as his right was clearly of no use now.

“At least when you die, it won’t be nearly this painful. Maybe that’s what I’ll put on your headstone, “Vatarr died painlessly; a courtesy he never bestowed on others.” Gryf slurred through his partially melted face, wincing toward the end of his quip.

“You’re right, you won’t find that courtesy from me!” Vatarr hissed before swinging again, goopy gore spilling from his open wound from the movement. Garravar’s voice called from behind Vatarr.

“Finish this.”

Gryf charged directly toward Vatarr once more. It looked, at first, as if he were going to repeat the traded blow to rend Vatarr’s remaining arm but his eyes were fixed on Death. He purposely plunged into Vatarr’s range and waited for him to lunge forward to counter before reversing his grip on the hilt of his blade and propelling himself off the ground into a high arcing leap over the dangerous mist. No sooner did Gryf’s feet touch the ground behind Vatarr did he pivot and drive the claymore like a javelin toward Vatarr’s skull. Vatarr had reacted quickly, whipping around with Death in hand, but did not expect to see the pointy end of a claymore mere inches from his face. There was the beginnings of a visceral shriek that abruptly ended once the weapon perforated a gorish hole all the way through Vatarr’s head. An expression of disbelief remained memorialized on his now lifeless face.

The mists of Death slowly began to dissipate as a cold breeze came wafting in. A red pulse formed in the sky, but something was different.

“Strange,” Garravar announced as the reddened sky stayed red. “Another dead north of us, what coincidental timing…” Before Garravar could finish the thought, a shattering sound rocked the battlefield and a blackened crack wedged itself in the sky, splitting the bloody atmosphere in half.

“We have to move quicker than we have been.” Garravar was staring upwards at the sky, no sign of fading from either the black or red.

“We’re in the end game then, eh? Where are you headed off to then, G-money?” Gryf rends the blade from Vatarr’s skull, its aura fading and the engraved lettering gone. He took Death for himself while motioning for the Offspring to ‘re-enlist’ Vatarr. In doing so the revivified Vatarr grew a new arm from the spores, several root-like features emerging and intertwining from the gash to resemble a limb. The rupture as well as his frozen expression remained, presenting a creature that can only be described as blasphemous.

“The same place as you,” Garravar answered. “We have to head north, there is one final battle to be had before the crucible can be decided. You control the 18th node, yes? Change the climate to one of winter, we will make our stand there.”

"Yes, I'm aware. Those northerners have been very rude guests for some time. No time left for pretense then." Gryf ordered most of the offspring under his command to begin indiscriminately infect the mortals of Vatarr's realms now that chaos from the wildfires had thrown them into disarray. He would return north with just the mages, while the offspring here would multiply and form an auxiliary hive as a backup plan. Gryf did not need to win the northern war if he made it impossible for the North to conquer the South in their weakened state, though he was trying to win the war all the same. This was more of a backup plan, anything to prevent the ascension of a singular God.

“I cannot accept this gift in good faith, especially when your fear of the end is based purely on speculation” Xavior, sitting upon his (re-redecorated) throne in his courtroom, said to the bejeweled merchant who had come to try and bargain for salvation.

“But, my god, surely the signs of the end times could not be more clear! The sky bleeds a red that does not fade, and you yourself have mentioned that the nodes grow hot. What else could these mean!” The merchant retorted, words joined by mutters of agreement from the line of awaiting supplicants.

“I have sent messengers to Benea seeking answers. Till they return and enlighten us to the truth I will brook no more discussion of whether or not the Trigger event is upon us, and that is final” The god decreed, and then raise a hand to silence the words of those that dissent “Enough. All of those here regarding the trigger event, step aside and be patient for the return of the messengers”

God sighed internally as his command was obeyed and caused a frightening number of those waiting to speak with him to step to the side. In the process they formed a worryingly large group who immediately launched into debate over the subject. As they moved off the next in line stepped forwards and was announced

“Next is…” there was a pause as the priest in charge of managing the queue had to skip down their list several times to get to the next supplicant still in line, “miss Jasmin, here on behalf of Master Forman Derik”

As instructed, the well dressed woman who’s garb made little effort to hide her calloused hands and the muscles of a miner framing her form, stepped forwards beneath their cloth, stepped forwards and bowed before Xavior “My god. We have made the most peculiar discovery. These slabs” she beckoned a pair of assistants forwards holding two large stone tablets “where found by one of the miners deep deep beneath the ground. I have not come to ask for anything in turn, you have already done so much for my family and my dear Derik, and so simply offer these due to your interest in anything that might predate the world of the creator”

The fact that something might have survived the end of the old world caused a great stir, particularly in those who had come to attempt to barter for survival at the end of this one.

“You are sure these do not have an origin from this cycle of the crucible? A trick of some charlatan, or another god perhaps?” Xavior said, trying to not get his or anyone else’s hopes up.

“I cannot say, all I know is that it is written in a language no one i have contacted to look at them has been able to identify” Jasmin said as the tablets where presented to the god and he could see that, just as she had said, they were written in a writing system not born from this cycle.

Or that is what he thought at first. Peering closer it seemed to be similar to Benea’s but, for some reason, it seemed… hazy, or blurred would be how he would best describe it, the words having been obscured by some malignant curse.

“Strange. And intriguing. Hmmm” the god thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers, before reaching into the breast pocket on the suit he had decided to wear today and retrieving a newly created monocle. This he set over on eye, holding it in place with his eyebrow as he examined the freshly revealed information.



He read the first silently, and then upon reaching the second his eyes suddenly widened and he lost his grip on the onical, which went bouncing across the floor, clinking sound echoing through the hush of the room.

“My god? Are you alright” the priest who caught and retrieved the monocle quietly asked, concerned by the hidden look of fear he saw as he stepped in close to return the reading implement. Out of curiosity he glanced through the lens of the monocle himself, yet while the information he saw was certainly revelatory, he saw no reason for his god’s fearful reaction.

“Yes. Yes I am quite fine” the god lied, taking the lens and placing it back where it belonged, steeling himself as he once more read the word that had caused a burst of primal fear upon simply witnessing it:

Koulemuus

He did not know why he felt that way, nor why the priest had had no such reaction, but if the presence of Trine of whom all humans where children did not confirm the age of the tablet, then whatever curse or rule had caused him to feel terror at the name of that person or weapon certainly did.

“You are correct in your assessment, miss Jasmin, this is older than this cycle, perhaps older than all cycles, and it is of great interest to me. You will do all you can to find if any more of these lay buried beneath the earth” the god commanded, before reassuring her that “I will, of course, fund and reward these efforts with my own wealth and power”

Jasmin bowed graciously, quietly overjoyed at how profitable this little trip had been, already dreaming at the advancements in mining they could make with divine backing. She’d have further reasons for joy as soon as she left the room from the group who had been denied an audience with Xavor. For though the god was interested in the content’s of the documents, those who sought to survive the end of the world saw in the slab’s mere existence hope they could take their survival into their own hands.

If these slabs could survive the end by being deep down in the earth, then surely they could too? Thus the search for secrets gained a second purpose, to dig deep and then build shelters for the wealthy to hunker down within in-order to survive the apocalypse.

The dust had cleared, the clothing had been mended and an eyepatch made to cover her newfound scar, soldiers stood in solemn silence among the whimpers of those fated to die.

The Eclipse reigned the sky, tainted by red.

"This battle is over." the goddess commanded with an imperative voice. "Dusklanders, accept all who wish to surrender as brothers, and let those who wish to flee go away, their faith is broken and not worthy of spilling blood anymore," she added. "Legionaries, surrender now if your belief is to build a better world for all, if not, you are free to flee and leave this lost battle, if you wish to still fight today, however, then you are a fool, for this battle is lost and you will give away your life for nothing."

Although not perfect, the speech did mark the end of the battle, feel truly had the will to continue battling after the god fell, and without their fate magic the lines of the legion had broken apart like shattered porcelain.

---

"The time is coming, the fate of this world is to be decided. How cruel, to all of us, that this would come so soon." the goddess confessed to her two generals.

"Well, on a good note, our landing on Node 15 was successful, the armies secured the harbour, and I imagine they will have an easy time moving to clear the path. Benea has also moved on Node 17 and 16, as the captured legionaries will tell you." said the ever-optimist Daga.

Tsunya rubbed her chin. "Huh. So it seems. I had a keen interest in that crown of crystals from that distant land, perhaps I too should look into it, when the chance presents itself."

"As for the conquest of node 14, milady?" Hatzur questioned an inquisitive eye fixed upon Tsunya.

"Let's press forward, I will go ahead and claim such nodes before the others arrive, it seems their faith magic is weakened after Anak fell, so there is little that can stand in the way of the banners upon those lands. Remember, our focus is to integrate the verdant landers into our nation, into the system, personal pride and vengeance are not what we desire."

Hatzur hummed, observing the many Legionaire relics she had acquired. "I wonder if their faith magic will work for those who change to our side."

"Perhaps it will, perhaps it will not. There is still much they can offer, we should work to integrate as many legionnaires as we can, we will talk with Theodoro once we re-assemble in Node 15.

Hatzur nodded, leaving just the goddess and her sister-in-law in the room.

"I thought you'd be happier, the North is secured, we have won. Dusklander hegemony is now real, in land and sea. Did that wound to the eye really hurt that much? Or was it the loss of shadow petal?" Daga questioned.

"I am just thinking of my children. Seems awfully unfair, for new life to face the end of the world at their youth."

Daga nodded. "Hey there Tsu... It is fine, there will a new, better world for them to inhabit, one where you can stay by their side as their mother all time, instead of leaving for war and conquest."

The goddess bitterly smiled. "That blasted knight really set up a horrible world for us to exist in, but we will fix it, will we not, Daga?"

---

The conquest of the Verdant was not easy, but somewhat uneventful. The goddess claimed two more nodes, 14 and 15, and soon had one last meeting with her generals on the core of 15.

"It has been a while, my goddess," Theodoro said, smiling. "Never would I think, that we would have freed all of these lands."

"I heard you have been hard at work."

"Indeed, we are giving names to all the peoples under Anak'Thas, one by one, I will also be training all of the converted legionnaires into fighting as a group without letting go of their individuality," he said, with a certain pride. "My people are slowly being unblinded from that profane light."

He would continue, in a less hopeful tone. "So... the sky."

"Yes, the final battles draw near, it seems. I took a beating in that battle of mine, I need to recover, but I also feel ready to face the enemies to come... But... The end itself? Hmm. I do not feel like simply accepting the rules imposed upon us."

"I would expect you to not do it. But, what is there for us to do?"

"To subvert our path, rules are never perfect, trust me when I say that, for I have set up a controlled market across half of the world. There are always gaps that can be exploited, making the whole thing unravel." the dusk goddess confessed. "From what I hear, that is what broke Garravar and Benea apart, yet it's not wholly wrong, we cannot simply be satisfied with playing with the system."

"So you think we should break it?"

"If I knew how, I would, but I am not one to take leaps of faith. But, for a start, we must make sure people will never be corrupted by the sun again, that spirit alone is the cause of so much trouble. The best way to do that, outside of going at the source, is to change the one thing that is a constant in this world, the one thing that remains even as the skies, the ground and the seas are changed."

"That being?" Theodoro asked, feeling a bit intimidated as the goddess grew distant.

"You, you are that being, the humans."

---

Actions however would need to wait, first, she wanted reports from the south, having conquered the sea the goddess now could learn much more about the other gods and their status, plans were already being draw of an invasion of the volcanic shores, as the Dusklanders had plenty of materials capable of dealing with the local conditions, perhaps outmatching what the south had.

Then, there was the question of Anna, the Daman had no more use as a wild card, and while she did not desire harm upon the mostly peaceful people of the land, to leave it as a rogue node was also not the path forward, it was also necessary to know what Benea and Xavior would do about the murderer of Monica.

Meanwhile, her people worked hard reverse-engineering and accommodating all they had conquered in war, while also studying the mysteries of the psychic and faith-based powers of the locals, as the goddess expected it, and the Daman mutations, to be necessary for her final plan to set the fate of the Crucible long after this crucible was over.

All of this however spoke only one thing to her, it was necessary to arrange a meeting among the Trinity of the North, Dzallitsunya, Benea and Xavio.

The small meerkat-kin standing on top of the equally diminutive podium in the middle of the Internodal One pursed her lips as she saw the distant shadow of a flying creature appear over the horizon. As it grew closer and closer, she sucked in a big breath and exhaled, then waved her arms, both of her hands holding a blue and white flag in them. Her tabard, painted in the same colours as the flags, flowed wildly in the gusts of wind that washed over the land, caused by the approaching dragon’s powerful wings even though it was still somewhat far away.

“E-Excuse me!” She shouted in a high-pitched, almost creaky voice. “Please land! Land!” The request was as hopeless as her career, she realised, but rules were rules…

“It’s dangerous ahead!!” She shouted again, waving the flags even quicker.

At her words, the dragon changed direction and sent a raging wave of wind right at her. The sharp torrent not only forced her eyes closed, but pushed her back and off her podium until she was on her back sliding across the rough cobblestone road, unable to see what was happening past a blob of movement and unable to sense much past her own desperate attempts to hold onto anything so she wouldn’t be blown away. It only got worse as the dragon landed with an immense quake. Only after everything settled did she manage to shakily get on her feet and get a glimpse of the travelers.

“Well, hello, dear,” Benea smiled from atop the dragon’s head, somehow sitting on a chair perfectly balanced on the scales.

“A-Ahm… Uhm…” The young girl stuttered for so long that eventually she just sighed and walked back to her podium, climbing on top with just the slightest difficulty. There, she opened a hidden compartment and knelt down to reach into it.

“S-So. I don’t have a mask big enough for the flying crocodile…How many are you? Y-You all need to wear masks. It’s plague s-season around New Dama.”

“Plague season?” Benea scoffed. “I’ll fly in alone then. I’m here for your node, dear, care to show me the way?”

The girl pointed down the lonely road, towards the horizon where one could see sickly clouds of green and black. “O-One day’s walk that way. Flying…” She furrowed her brow in thought for a second. “Maybe half? Wear s-sunscream.” The girl said and took a small glass container from her stash and offered it to Benea.

Benea gave the girl a pitied smile. “I think it’s best you keep it, dear.” With little else, the dragon wafted its mighty wings and shot Benea up into the sky with a blast of wind.



“Yo, is that what I think it is bro.” Asked a labrador-kin of his colleague, another labrador-kin who stood next to him, guarding the entrance to the (newly renovated) Temple of the Bronzed Bloom.

“Uhh… Like what, bro? A bird?” Responded the colleague after a few seconds of observing the slowly growing shadow traveling towards New Dama.

“Nah bro. It’s like…” The first guard furrowed his eyes, tail standing at attention. “... a big alligator.”

The second guard chuckled. “Good one bro. Alligators don’t fly.”

“This one does bro.”

“Nahh.”

The first guard huffed and shrugged.

Eventually, the shadow grew close enough so that details of the creature could be clearly discerned. As panicked whispers arose from the market surrounding the temple’s entrance, the guards looked at the skies once more.

It was the first guard, who was armed with a crystallista, that spoke first once more.

“See bro? Flying alligator.”

“... Nah. Must be from the plague fumes, bro. Hyaluminations or whatever the leafheads call ‘em.” The second guard shrugged.

“Bro you dumb.”

Even more time passed. It was only when people began vacating the market, and when stalls and furniture started to be knocked over by the wind shockwaves of a landing dragon, that the first guard spurred into action.

He shakily jumped behind the arch he was guarding and pointed his crystallista at the dragon, mostly blindly due to the sheer density of the gunk that had come to coat his mask’s visors thanks to the dragon’s landing, and shouted.

“BRO TAKE COVER! IT’S GONNA TRY TO EAT EVERYONE, WE GOTTA TAKE IT DOWN!”

With that said, the first guard shot his crystallista bolt, designed to be powerful enough to blow an entire Otori squad to bits, at the dragon. Then the dragon snapped its head and ate the bolt whole.

Half a moment of silence ensued. Then the second guard spoke.

“Yo bro I think the alligator is real.”

“Hello, darlings!” Benea was standing atop her dragon’s head with a new drink in her hands; something minty green with a citrus garnish. “I’m here for that node of yours, and a chance to talk with whoever is running the show.”

“Brough… There’s a lady on top of the alligator...” The second guard said breathlessly, still not moving an inch from his post.

“... I think I’m gonna shoot again bro. She’s clearly plague-crazed. She’s drinking a whole lemo-”

“STOP! STOPP YOU DUMB DOGS!” Screamed a deep voice from inside the temple, followed by the big heavy doors being blown open by a kick. It was a large bull-man, wearing a golden collar and a majestic set of bronze plate armour. The man stomped his way over to the two stunned dog guards and slapped them over the head so hard their ornamental helmets flew off into the market, to be immediately snatched by some random outlaws that crawled out from the sewers.

“YOU JUST SHOT AT A GODDESS, YOU IDIOTS!” He bellowed again.

The guards shrunk back and shook in their boots. “B-Boss, we thought-”

“THOUGHT?! YOU CLEARLY DON’T-”

“Sun-Downer, that’s enough.” Came another voice, this one much quieter and clearly female in origin. It rang out from inside the temple. “Please show the Beneavolence Rep to the Altar.”

After taking a deeeeep breath and giving the two fools the stink eye, Sun-Downer knelt before Benea and her dragon and motioned towards the temple. “Please make your way inside, lady. No alligator, please.”

“Oh very well, sweet thing.” Benea walked, on air, all the way down to the cobbled streets and took another sip at her drink before handing it to one of the dogmen. Jermane quickly caught up and pushed himself between his Queen and the others, his own glare being even more intense than Sun-Downer’s.

Inside, the atmosphere was different. Literally. The air was cleaner than outside and smelled of lavender, it was completely free of the green-gray gunk, and the temperature was much cooler and rather refreshing. Besides that, the furniture inside the main hall of the Temple wasn’t too impressive. Cushions of many different leathers lined the hall and hanging chandeliers kept the area lit up, a soft hum emanating from them. At the far end of the hall and protected by a line of heavily-armoured plant-kin guards wielding axes and tower shields was an impressively crafted altar resembling the blooming petals of a rose, cast in bronze.

Sitting on that altar was a form that seemed almost dwarfed by the grandiosity of the hall.

“Welcome to New Dama. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.” Said the form. Her green skin, black eyes and leafy head of hair glistened with moisture as a pair of servants much taller than her sprayed water at her with their glass bottles. Truly, she resembled a rich teenager more than a seasoned ruler.

“Indeed?” Benea flashed a big grin, before flickering her eyes to every inch of the room. “Shall I be offered a seat, then?”

The ruler waved a hand over the entirety of the hall, her gold-laced dress’ sleeves pooling around her shoulders as she did so. “Take your pick. There are cushions everywhere.” She said and turned to one of the servants. “Bring them something that their people can drink.” The servant nodded and, after hooking her bottle into her belt, disappearing into a side door for but a moment before emerging again and pushing past the line of soldiers to offer Jermane and Benea a glass vase full of crystal clear water.

Benea furrowed her brow and Jermane stepped forward. He stood up straight and announced. “This is Queen Benea of three cycles, born Olipha. It is customary to stand when addressing her as she stands and sit only after she sits.”

Before she could act on the growing scowl on her face, the servant remaining at her side whispered something into the Ruler’s ear. “Oh? For real?” She asked, to which the servant nodded her head with but the slightest quiver in her leaves.

After that, the ruler carefully slid off the Altar and stood up straight, the pair of bells hanging loosely from her neck ringing as she moved.

“I am The Orbita, The Fourth Bronzed Bloom, and Representative of the United Daman Clans. It seems I mistook you for a… Whatever.” The Orbita then motioned over the entirety of the Temple Hall. “You may take your pick of our available seats.”

“Fantastic, dear!” Benea was smiling again as she fell backwards into the comforting plush of a birch woven chair that had suddenly appeared. It was speckled with emerald and had the faintest perfume of the forest hanging off it but most importantly, it was brighter and bigger than every other seat in the room. “Now to cut to the chase, sweet Orbita, everything you know is about to be wiped clean. Gone, I dare say, completely gone. Your thoughts, memories, your land, your nation, everything, poof. I’m sure you noticed the crack in the sky by now, darling, but worry not, I’m here to prevent that fate from befalling you. Isn’t that just great?” She clapped her hands together and gave a wide grin.

“Yes we’ve noticed the crack in the sky. The Daman Peoples believe it’s a bad omen from when we imprisoned Eleanna, but we know the truth from the news brought to us by tourists and wandering Paladins.” The Orbita explained before carefully climbing onto the Altar once more. “Now tell me, why would we want this world to be saved? It’s so dangerous and boring…” She trailed off, slumping against a bronze petal.

“If you think that’s boring, try not existing, darling.” Benea frowned and crossed a leg. “And despite that, there are millions of other lives that would rather not.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Benea. Not just as The Orbita but now as the Bronzed Bloom, I can’t stop someone from chasing a dream as dumb and far-fetched as saving this world is. Plus, even if the entire garrison stationed in New Dama now were to attack your dragon, I doubt we could take it down. So do as you like and leave us be. We have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment, like making sure our citizens don’t choke to death or grow extra limbs from the Alchemical Ash.”

“Jermane, dear,” Benea smiled softly at her guardian. “Could you please explain exactly who I am again?”

Jermane stepped forward again. “Queen Benea is-”

“I heard you the first time.” The Orbita interrupted.

A great white flash devoured the temple and ate the sound. Smell dissolved and touch went forfeit. All that remained was Benea’s voice, clear of any joy or benevolence. “I am Olipha, with a touch of my finger, I can turn your alchemical ash to pigeons and twist your pressing concerns to clouds of cotton. With but a sneeze, I can turn your region into a pool of crystal water.”



The next time the Orbita woke up, she did so with the worst headache she’d had since the morning after her coming of age celebration, and when she opened her eyes and sat up, she was greeted by the familiar sight of her two aunts sitting to each side of her bed. They were asleep, slumped over the bedside tables.

The doors opened, jolting her aunts awake and in came Sun-Downer the Companion, holding a pair of silver trays with carnivorous meals on them. He did a subtle double take as he noticed Orbita’s awakening, but kept his comments until after he handed Orbita’s aunts their respective trays.

Once that small duty had been fulfilled and Orbita’s aunts started to dig into their steaks, the older bull-man nodded at the teenage Ruler.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Crysanth.”

“Thank you, Buncle.” Orbita smiled, “When did I fall asleep?”

“You, along with most of New Dama, were knocked out by Benea the Goddess. We must have offended her in some way.”

Orbita’s eyes glazed over a bit as she rested her back against her bed’s headboard. “... Huh.”

“Also, the lower district is flooded, and the mudbrick houses near the northeastern market have collapsed due to the torrential rains.”

Orbita’s right eyebrow twitched. “Torrential rains?”

“Torrential rains, yes.”

“It isn’t even the wet season yet, though?”

“Right.”

Orbita let herself sink into her fluffy bed, an action which Sun-Downer took as a sign to leave the room.

As soon as her bedchambers’ doors closed her aunts started to stroke Orbita’s leafy hair, prompting her to hide her face with one of the massive pillows, sniffling.

The first of the trinity to arrive was obviously the master of the land where the meeting ground had been made, the goddess of dusk, the champion of the northern wars, the blade of the eclipse, Dzalitsunya. Long ago, back when her mind was young and her body less scarred, she had made the palace in the hopes that someday all gods would sit on the tables and discuss a better future. Such delusion had long been dispelled, the illusion of the planet on the walls was not one that inspired hope, but instead, courage, for the battles yet to come.

She took her seat, still at times tugging where shadow petal was supposed to be, other times touching the side of her face now clad in an eye patch, the wound from the battle never recovering, perhaps by her own decision.

All alone in the room, she was left with enough time in her hand to rearrange the furniture to better reflect the trio of the northern alliance, over the long table of the gods. Then, at the last minute, she undid her change, keeping the table and all of its extra seats, perhaps a reminder of all that they had to lose to get here. Then, all that was left for her to do was to wait.

“So gloomy, darling!” Benea had snuck up on Dzallitsunya during her thoughts and placed both her hands on the goddess' shoulders. “I commend you for your strength in all this.” Benea’s voice seeped with compassion. Looking up at her, the typically overbearing goddess hadn’t changed a bit. She still had her smile and she still had her flowery clothes and flawless appearance — she seemed calm, relaxed, as if the world wasn’t ending. Then again, this wasn’t the first time Benea had seen the end of the world.

Dzalitsunya now had the maturity to understand much of Benea, enough at least to understand how far ahead the other goddess was. Perhaps she too would stopped changing so drastically given thousands of years and multiple apocalypses. Not that her plans would allow for such long term worries.

“Pardon me Benea. I just did not feel like erasing the dead like this. It was not my objective to be gloomy.” the scarred dusk goddess smiled and gave the calla lily a hug and then smiled for once. “How were things in the far east? Did you bring me a souvenir?” she joked.

"A little carving of a weasel." Benea plopped the small trinket into the goddess's lap, clearly ignoring any joke on the matter. "Sly and cute, much like our sweet Tsunya."

“Aye! In some land people would take weasels like insults, but these fellas are held in some respect on dusklander society.” she bowed. “I myself, don’t have much, unfortunately, the lands of Anak’Thas to the east were too warped by war, I did however, want to return this to you.”

The goddess of the dusk offered to Benea the rings of the fallen Paladins of Coldshanks, wrapped in the fort’s main banner. Benea smiled softly as she took them and then laid a hand in Dzallitsunya's shoulder.

"Thank you of course, dear," Benea said before pouting. "But where in all that is good is our lovely Xavior?"

Spoken of, the demon appeared, clad in a business suit and carrying a pair of very uncontemporary tablets beneath his arms. He paused at the precipice of the room, lips pursing for a moment as he beheld the original intent of this room, before regaining his composer and greeting the pair “Benea. Dzalitsunya. I hope I did not keep you waiting too long? ”

"Not particularly. I would classify it as, hmm, fashionably late. As the youth would say." Dzalli leaned and gave a somewhat weak but sincere smile. "I hope you are fine? I have to confess I completely zoned off the western areas given the battles."

“All is calm in the west. Well. Mostly. There is a fair amount of… agitation regarding the end of the world, as you might expect” the god replied carefully as he set down the tablets on the table and took a seat “but other than that all is well. It is the south we need to be concerned about.”

"I am doing all I can to repurpose what is left of Anak's force while also licking my own wounds. The Daman are thoroughly defanged, though I have avoided contact with Anna given her recent actions, I would dare say that the North is well secured." The goddess that had been so warm now spoke with a certain steel edge and an equally unmoving iron expression.

"For the South. Our main worry seems to be the way the enemy can spread. With my navy in the inner sea the blockade of information is less critical, though far from perfect. I say we join forces, but together all over our, ahem, fireworks, at play, especially using my navy to get close to the node, and then we scorch that which is already lost." The globe meant to be a reminder of the peace and tranquility, now seemed more like a strategic planning screen.

"Our enemy will be attached to the central node, this might give us the advantage. My people, with the Cinnabar Forge, and yours, Xavior, with the magmatic magic, with the survival expertise of the Paladins and their wasteland training on node 2… we are best fit to take and exploit node 28, put those endless volcanos to excellent use. My magistrates will scout the south for any sort of resistance left, be it the mages and what not, whatever else can be added to our power. This will be the final war and there is no reason to spare any resources, even if a front will be too weak to push, a total attack from all sides will still be our best bet."

“Our biggest concerns are the hivemind in node 18 and Garravar,” Benea added, her voice akin to a seasoned leader all of a sudden. “No doubt Garravar will appear in the first battle, do not engage him — I’ll finish what I started on my own. It’s the safest way. As for the hivemind, I suggest bringing our best shock troops to support my dragon.”

“There have been some recent aerial innovations on my people’s end that might be best suited to escorting your dragon. Speed being of the essence here I’ve taken the liberty of assembling a loyal strike force consisting of all the fliers at my disposal, and would put myself at its head so as to move across the world as fast as possible” Xavior suggested, having put aside the doubt about Grym being their foe in the name of pragmatism. The universe, it seemed, had had quite enough of his wait and see approach to things.

“As for the rest of my forces… I will admit, my style of leadership and governance is not well suited to all out war, and the transition to it is having some… teething problems” he had to admit before clarifying simply that “financial incentives do not hold much weight when the world is about to end. Which is why it is imperative, for me, to get an understanding of what victory will look like, so that the people know what they are fighting for”

“Which brings us to the big question,” Benea interjected. Sitting between the two, she took each of their hands and gripped them tight. “Which of you two will bring about their will, who will inherit the world?”

“You are excluding yourself from the running already?” Xavior noted with curiosity “May I ask why?”

“I had my time, dear,” Benea answered coolly and with a smile. “Though, if you two wish to defer to me a third time, I will do so without question.”

Xavior nodded, before turning to Dzalitsunya and saying “So. You and I.” pausing for a moment and then offering her the floor by saying “If you have a sales’ pitch, now would be the time for it”

Dzallitsunya smirked. “It is simple. We blow up the sun.” she gave some time for the joke to land, but instead, seeing some of the expressions, she suspected she may have overshot and made herself sound too serious.

“Jokes aside.” she said with notable emphasis. “I believe in a world with less ambition. I know it may sound anathema to what we have to believe, but I always found the stars of the night, with their diffuse light, better than the overwhelming light of day. Fighting Anak’Thas my will over that became more steel-like than ever, the veneration of a god-king above all others, the belief that sacrificing one’s will and identity for the sake of said king. It is the same situation we see on the sky under sunlight, a light so strong all else vanishes but its power. It is the same as what we have with the crucible.”

She took a deep breath. “Would it be fair to say that among us there is a common understanding that someday, somehow, having our descendants free from the cycle of crucible and its node would be ideal? To let them rise or fail by their own accord, not by a presset game?” her words became far softer than they were when she was talking about the war. “And yet, we cannot break out the cycle, not yet. So my desire is to at least turn the possible futures towards ones that may get closer to that freedom, and, so, come to action the changes I wish to make towards that.”

“For one, yes, I do wish to diminish the sun, to keep it in a constant state of eclipse would be enough for me. People imitate what they see in nature, and the forces a ‘sun-king’ emanates are just not constructive. Second, I will try to change mankind, in particular, the chimeras of the Daman, the sensibility and telepathy gifted by Anak’Thas, perhaps even some of my own, of yours, Xavier and even the souther magiks. Third, I will see what I can add to the nodes, and if possible, try to further the regional system for more integration, as seen in the Dusklands, but node-bound. Fourth… My first act will be to abdicate godhood. The stories told by Benea convinced me of one thing, too many mistakes in the past were born from emotional attachment, time after time again. Some people, in the council of Eunomia or the Magistrates, already think gods are unnecessary, I do not think that, but should I live in the next world as a god, then I myself will become like the sun, overwhelming others with greater experience and authority… My plan, if possible, is to try to become a memory-less mortal with my family, if I cannot do that, then I will simply erase myself.”

“That seems like a gamble…” Xavier began and then paused, taking the time to think it all over, face a frown and hand stroking his goatee thoughtfully before concluding “no, that’s the wrong way to think of it. It is more of an experiment. A crucible has many gods, an interim one, so what a time with no gods looks like is indeed an interesting question that might open the way out of this mess, if not for us, then for a future generation. It is also, ironically, akin to the question our foe is asking, just taken to its logical extreme, and, of course, without any murder invovled. Assuming we consent to share the same fate as you, of course” to which he glanced over at Benea to gauge her reaction to this.

Benea was still the entire way through the explanation. A skeptical gleam was in her eye by the time Xavior addressed her directly, summoning a flashing smile from the Goddess. "You think removing the current gods will end the cycles? What about my own birth, or my sister's? There were no gods to will us into existence and yet we were created. Voittaja was gone by the time I was born, and yet there I was, in a fresh crucible."

“True, but we have no idea why that one ended either. It could be an interim is tied to the life of the god who made it?” Xavior hypothesized “really we just have so little information at hand, the best we can do is struggle in the dark and ensure we keep what we do know alive. Which admittedly does become more difficult if we remove immortal gods from the equation"

"Which is why I said I disagreed with the belief gods are not necessary." Dzalli interjected. "And we know interins fail, which should signal us even a lone god can become auto destructive, or that… given the lack of gods, the nodes will find their own. Perhaps there is even the possibility that given millennia and no godly oversight mortals may learn a method of ascension or of claiming a node…" this got Dzalli thinking about the only crucible that lasted thousands of years, as far as she knew.

"Benea. Excuse me for the slight change of topic, but what happened with Garravar? What was his finding that drove him to madness?" She took a deep breath. "This information was withheld before, but surely, if you trust us two enough to allow one of us to lead the triggering, then you could also trust us with that, right?"

Benea sat back in her chair and stared at Dzallitsunya for a while before nodding. “It began with the maddening of Falbach, when Falbach grew paranoid that the friends he recreated with the nodes were simply that — recreations. Then of course, Garravar was madly in love with me, and couldn’t fathom an existence where we weren’t our pure selves.”

"Explains your worry over madness being spread. And once again, makes me worry about the emotional attachments of us gods." Tsunya whispered almost as if she was thinking aloud, but she wanted to be heard in this case. "Perhaps… Perhaps we can test this somehow. If you two exchanged a code I do not know… or if a third god interjected… Hmmm. No. In any case any result could be altered by the event, if I imagined a copy of you two they would have their own code, but would it be the same? Sigh. It does not matter anyway. There is no proof the world wasn't created this very day and all else are implanted memories, to get caught up in such questions and end up committing so many atrocities against gods and mortals… how pathetic of them."

“This might be a good moment for me to bring up this little discovery of mine, tough whether it boards good or ill I can not say” Xavior reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his monocle, before placing it atop the two slabs he had brought in with him and sliding the whole set over to Tsunya “that lens will dispel the obfuscation effect” he explained before turning to the eldest among them and asking “Now, while she reads that, tell me Benea, do you know anything about the first gods?”

“How dapper,” Benea commented offhand before looking at Xavior and giving him a big, drawn out blink. “I don’t know of them, dear, are you to say you do?”

Xavier just tilted his head to the side towards Tsunya and then waited a moment for her reaction.

Dzallitsunya’s face varied a lot while she read the work, more than it typically did, showing some rare expressions for the goddess, especially after she picked up the sword, both smugness, surprise and notable shock and discomfort. “I was once annoyed at the drama of the previous crucible that has in many ways defined ours, but drat, at least there is a direct link between us and them. To have our lives defined by these long gone entities, I guess I understand how some mortals find us frustrating. On a similar note, I guess I should apologize for thinking your people were silly for digging deep trying to escape the triggering, there is actual precedent, impressive work.”

She adjusted the monocle and patted at her chin and lips pensively. “We know the name of one of these people, Benea mentioned it, and it stuck with me. It’s the central core of much of my plans for the future. Benea told me that when she won, she was given two rules to follow, don’t mess reality and that the children of Trine would live. At the time I assumed these to be human, and it seems my shot in the dark strikes true, the four primordial gods are rings and clouds, but Trine has a face, has blood, a heart, closer to a human than flowing liquid at least. Three primordials are killed, but the one who is said to be compassionate on the tablet, was also a name Benea saw in the triggering, Kaksi… Then there is the companion… or weapon? I wish not to name it for reasons you should understand. Undoubtedly, getting involved with the killing of primordial gods is already very bad, but to have their name echo with such power is peculiar… Blegh.” the goddess simply stood back on her chain now, putting the monocle back in place, massaging her temple to alleviate the stress.

Benea raised a brow and held out her hand. “Mind if I take a look?”

Tsunya handed it over.

Slotting the monocle in place and wriggling her nose until it was comfy, Benea took a gander at the slabs. Her eyes scanned for a while, seemingly impassive at what she was reading up until a certain point where a horror entered her eyes and she slipped the monocle off. “Well if nothing else, dears, this confirms the origin of Trine and Kaksi. Like it or not, we are currently bound by their rules. Makes you wonder why, I don’t think anyone here is bound by any of my rules…” She bit her thumb, unsure. “Right?”

“Well we don’t exactly know what they are, so only you can say I suppose” Xavier said before adding “Oh and for some reason, only we are bound by whater rule of fear that name creates. Mortals seem entirely immune and/or simply not targeted.”

“Well that doesn’t make things any easier to cipher.” Benea puffed a breath of air.

“It doesn’t… but I think there might be a clue?” she pressed her lips together. “A shot in the dark, if you may. But that name is related to Trine. Trine is related to humans. Humans do not fear that name. Trine and the name slayed gods… but the system that creates us gods seems concerned with the creations of Trine and under the will of the one god Trine would not hunt down.” she shook her head. “It's hard to think up solutions when we don’t even know what or who that name is. It could be a device custom made to banish divinity, it could be a person who betrayed Trine and Kaksi, it could be a person who made this system.”

“Betrayed them and then let their wills cover subsequent crucibles?” Benea seemed skeptical. “I think we need more information, dear. Perhaps we use this triggering event to prolong our lives to complete our investigation in the next.”

Tsunya was no less skeptical than Benea, she was merely creating suppositions. “I don’t particularly think it is that either, but there is precedent, Peninal was the creator of this crucible and yet still fell by Garravar’s sword and made sure his dear Olipha would be reborn” she then smiled. “As I said, should I take such a position, gods will continue to exist, I think… I would not mind you two continuing to exist. I do not know of Xavior’s arrangements, as he has so far not made his case or stated his will, but I doubt he would forcefully erase you.”

“Of course not. As for will, well, I will be frank, I have focused on the here and now for most of my life, and on the past more recently. My will for the next world would be very much being cobbled together at the last minute. That does not seem like a stable foundation to base our hopes on” Xavior admitted, before adding some more practical justification atop it “besides, as a pure numbers game goes, choosing you gives us more time, as you hold the most nodes already. Plus you have experience as a general and warrior both, whereas I only have training and experience in combat, limited as it may be. It would, I think, be optimal for you to be safely commanding from the center while I and Benea act as the proverbial wings, moving swiftly to face threats like Garravar and Grym while not risking our node holder in direct combat if possible.”

The reaction of the dusk goddess was unexpected, she blushed. "Ah? Truly? But then… wow. I… did not expect I would actually have support from the start." She brushed her hair to the side. "Nevertheless, ahem, I do agree this would be the right path… though it pains me to hide behind others, there is no doubt that I would make for the most logical target." She turned her head from one side to the other. "If Grym has defiled the bodies of the southern gods like he has with Peninal, there is no doubt they will be at play. I was wondering…"

"If seeking out Anna would be fine. Despite her transgressions and the slaying of Monica, she is not vile, merely… not smart. I was on a somewhat friendly term with her last we saw each other, and I do think she would be interested in some southern action, at the bare minimum I would like to set up a few nexus so that we may have greater mobility when it comes to taking nodes."

Benea tapped her chin and leaned back in her chair. “I will allow it, Tsunya, if only because she has your referral and we have quite the task ahead of us. How about you, sweet Xavior?”

The god had actively bristled at the thought, but he pushed down his anger and offered the concession of “Just... Keep her away from me”

“It's understandable, I will oversee her then.” Dzallitsunya bowed. “Benea, how much time do you think we have in general? If possible, I would like to extend the Mirrory training to your paladins and Xavior’s troops. As well as equipment in Mitsitaralle and Tzurkortze. Mythril and Orichalk.”

“It’s impossible to say, but I think that should be partially possible.” The Goddess put her hand ontop of Tsunya’s, “But now it is decided, your will shall be the heir to the crucible — all that’s left is the final details of battle.” She looked at the map. “I’ve sat here twice before…”

“It's a great duty I will do my best to me up to, I shall not fail your trust.” Dzallitsunya looked sternly for a moment. “May I just make one last request from you two, however? For the sake of good luck, perhaps a group hug?”

“Mmm. Fine” Xavior pushed back his chair and stood despite his general dislike for physical contact

"If you're going to give a hug, dear, do it right," Benea repeated an old phrase and stood up. She pulled Xavior in close with one arm and dragged Tsunya in with the other. Then, wrapping her arms around both, she gave a heavy squeeze.