Abbot Eiriol Za'Darmondiel.
***
So much and yet so little happened over the last thirteen or so days since Amun's departure. The Halls seemed so empty. Not even the echoes of the highest ranking monks remained when they returned to their matrons. It was akin to when I first descended to these lands, juxtaposed against everything I had done since, enabling me to move through and see all the work that made the ancient monastery what it was. That, and the seemingly effortless march that made it a long memory.
Of course, I had known this would happen long ago. Deep in my heart, I knew Nydorden Halls would be like Zimysta Falls. Broken and forever changed. Yet I was not forced to accept it until I received word from Headmaster Knagh, as I did every year.
This time, however, his word came with the news that the millennial Class would be the Bodhi Tree's last. And that an addendum was made to the list of guilds attending this year's tournaments. One in addition to the Optimus Regni - The Legio Noctis.
Thinking about the humans I toyed with last year, Doyle Wolfgang and Olga Godzuik, I realized the time for me to decide would soon come. Only to peer through the weave to Zimysta and understand that time was now. And so, I ate the strange fruit given to me by the Elven Devil. Now part of this… nebula, I could witness all that transpired below. I could witness my worst fears coming to fruition, for the sole thing I could focus on in that dreary space was my liberated great-grandson, Etan Za'Darmondiel, smiling in the face of the Demon Spider.
Though I knew my biggest dream had come true when he departed, thus I could not help but stay angry at what I saw, heard. Felt; motivating me to spend my time training, learning more of this masterful class bestowed upon me by a true deity.
In time, others joined the nebula, their spirits radiating far and wide across the Darkworld. Evar, and dozens more. Hundreds more joined Etan in those foul pits, pitted to endure the frustrations of their sisters in that cruel web of red until the drow of legend graced that foul tower with his presence, bringing about the time for me to join them.
I descended. Not on the dropping pods made by Amun but by the power of the nebulous expanse brought into the plane of material via his essence. And though it still took time, I could still hear and see all that transpired within our nebula of monastic drow.
I could see the vibrancy of what used to be Zimysta Falls so far below. The former spider-shaped cavern had been reformed into a devilish or perhaps draconic heart, beating ever so slowly. What used to be an arched ceiling of deep pockets and stalactites became a vast sea of milky darkness speckled with divine light that reflected beautifully off the striated bands of vibrant purple and orange stones lining the walls.
The Arcane Tower and the Tower of Might were distant memories; one being reformed into Eban's ring and the other having been destroyed by Telin's Champion. Now, there was only G'eldantaar, uprooted and exposed to the eyes of nearly 48,000 drow and ten times as many slaves, watching from far below, their tears filled with everything from wrath to veneration for the divine beings spread amongst Zimysta's fallen Eyes and the one who stood above them.
Like me, they bore close witness to the string of insults aimed at their matrons and their Goddess. Between that, the Troupe, and the seething voice of the matrons, it was hard for several drow to concentrate on any one thing. Even those in our nebula seemed to suddenly remember a most important fact every time they heard a matron. We were drow. Pets to the Queen Demon Spider; and she did not like her pets straying. Yet, all in Zimysta, drow or not, had grown to understand that Amun was also drow; and he kept no pets.
That was made apparent through the rain of destruction precipitated by his Troupe. Yet, I could see what they could not. I could see through this nebula. And so too could I hear the voices of the drow I brought here from Youtera; them and their descendants, and I could see the endless sea of apprehensive faces matching their voices.
Many agreed with his words, yet there were outliers, of course. Young drow, priestesses in training, and even males who feared the Arachnid so much they couldn't imagine turning away from her, as that itself was an unforgivable sin. And yet, there were many more who anxiously held their gazes toward the sounds of chaos above or stared wide-eyed at the swirling vortex of mana surrounding the chosen few around them.
I could hear him speaking of my great-grandson, his teacher- his Regent; and the act of war committed against him. I could feel the power in his name pour through our nebula, breaking the shackles on his spirit that kept his divinity shrouded; but not hidden. And thus, with a sense close to desperation, I spurred myself onward, eager to resonate with our evolved ki. On and on, I accelerated until a wicked darkness consumed me. And in a burst of light, I was birthed into space meters above the largest gathering of drow I'd seen in centuries, standing in a place I hadn't been in many more. Even then, more levitated behind me. More importantly, a few floated close by my sides.
"Etan! What is this?" someone pleaded, pointing at me, the forsaken Matron who created the Falls that once were.
"This is your liberation!" Etan shouted, turning to them. "Your minds are free of the webs spun over them by the Spider-Cunt, and this mutation that harms us in the light will be removed. So chose how you wish to live! Continue to live in this lair. Live free in his Empire. Join his clergies. Fight in his Legions. Or, if you are able, join me as a member of his Troupe. Or forge your own path!" He shouted, turning to the masses. "Spread among the Darkworld. Return to the surface. This is what it means to be free. Faith or no faith, that is what you are!"
The boldness made many present excited. Yet their fear was placated by the anticipation of a great battle. Only for a wave of wickedness came upon us.
The cavern once again fell silent as every being within froze their movements. And for an endless moment, we waited.
"Now witness the glory of the Exalted Gloom!"
We saw many figures leap from the structure at that moment. Then a sickening presence spread across the cavern. Many unseasoned drow began shaking or fell to their knees cowering, while many seasoned drow knew exactly the cause of such a potent fear-inducing aura.
Dragons.
A dragon of pure necrotic darkness, whose presence echoed baleful music and formed arcane words at the source of that terrible aura, as if the universe itself wanted to ensure everyone who witnessed this moment would retell it with piercing accuracy.
[Divine Dragon of Darkness: Cononthoth, the Exalted Gloom.]
Even I was enthralled. Not just at her might but at the prowess displayed by Etyl, fending off not just the dragon's attacks but the sweeping glances of two divine-powered vampyr and a deep gnome's hammer. Though, empowered by demons or not, she was eventually cornered by the Elven Devil's unholy light consuming all the foulness above us. Then... there was nothing to bear witness to, for a peculiar voice drew our attention to our front.
"So, what do you say?"
As one, the masses looked down and saw both a familiar and an unfamiliar visage. Amun, dressed in a coattail'd cloak of darkness, with horns, a slim chevroned tail, and sharp claws.
"T- the Elven Devil."
"Yes." He grinned at the crowd, showing many sharp teeth in his jaws. "It is more than just a moniker to denote the two sides of my heritage. Now then." He turned, words held on his lips, only for them to be silenced off by the most horrid screech to befell my ears.
"AMUN ZA'DARMONDIEL-NOX!"
I don't know what made my eyes widen more: the name, the powerful roars of victory coming from the dragon above, or the star of infernal flames roiling before Amun; though my eyes remained on the latter. As did every drow present.
From within those fiery flames, the most beautifully uncanny drow I had ever seen appeared. She held a lithe frame from the waist up, covered in a robe and headdress of ruby-studded gossamer. Yet her bulbous arachnid body and spider legs, studded with golden wreaths and crimson jewels, erected her 22 meters in height beneath the ghost of her temple; still dozens of meters above. Her eyes, colored with the same vibrancy as her gems, were large, lidless, and without pupils. Yet they somehow held the same sense of unadulterated rage and hostility shown in the trembles of the four bug-like arms clutching her ribs.
Everyone present, drow, Troupe, liberated slave, and Amun alike - everyone knew this was the Queen Demon Spider's Avatar. And her presence meant one thing.
The drow of Zimysta were forsaken.
And not just that...
"Wow!" Amun snorted, turning to face the spider. "You appeared with the name you didn't think I knew I had. Your matron, here, made it far too obvious." He snorted again, looking down to the limp but breathing form of Etyl Za'Darmondiel, lying at his feet. "Didn't think I'd have to antagonize you so much to get you to appear, though. Regardless, well met, Lilith."
Without so much as moving her lips, Lilith's voice boomed with the rage of a thousand demons. "Second son of the righteously forsaken Eved Za'Darmondiel. Grandson of the great Etym Za'Darmondiel. Great-Grandson of the forsaken deliverer, Eiriol Za'Darmondiel. Nephew of Etyl Za'Darmondiel. Telin has decreed that you belong of this most distinguished house- MY HOUSE!" She jammed a massive finger towards the seemingly tiny Elven Devil.
"I have long awaited your arrival to the Mortal Plane, Amun. I have planned long for this day since it first became known to me. This was not how fate was to unravel!" She roared, silencing the subtle beating of this cavern for an endless moment. Then she leaned closer. "Why do you act against me?"
"And here I thought my mother was a renegade."
"WAS!" Lilith snapped, conjuring a spinning web that bore the sight of a woman I only recognized in distant memory. And though she was dressed like an esteemed priestess, she was not dressed like the followers of Lilith.
"You care not for your mother?" She discarded the illusion after Amun's placid reaction.
"Well." Amun shrugged. "She's a capable lady. She can take care of herself."
"With my grace." Lilith sneered.
"Doubtful. I mean, how fickle that grace is." Amun snorted, not daunted in the slightest. "It's been given to no male drow in history. So, why start with me?"
"You know why!" She scowled. "You are the Eternal Champion. Telin's Destroyer. Amun Za'Darmondiel-Nox! You were supposed to rule the males!"
"In your name?" Amun laughed. "No, Lilith. My only 'task' as Telin's Champion is to live as I fit. I only rule over the dead, and my followers have the knowledge and power to self-govern and explore these realms as they please. With or without my grace."
For the first time since she appeared, Lilith's avatar turned away from Amun to look at Etan, whose gaze drilled holes into her eyes; she then turned to the Elven Devil's Troupe scattered around the airs above; then to the vampyr, undead shadows, and the strange bald deep gnome; and then above, to where the divine dragon of shadow was perched beside the ghost of her temple; before finally turning her sights to me. And for the first time in my long life, I stared my demon in the eye.