It had been nearly an hour since their arrival into Bordium by way of a strange black hole. The Highlordess of Cicero came into the room some time ago, to confirm exactly what happened with Ulric. After piecing together parts of their conversation, Rekken concluded that Bordium's only real involvement in this was from a certain Lord's vendetta with Kingston. "What do you suppose we do then, my child?" Arura asked. "There is nothing we can do. We simply have to stay out of that man's way." Ulric paced back and forth. It was quite odd, they were in the presence of a nigh deific sorcerer, and the mother root of a God Blooded clan. Yet all they could think about was Kingston and how he would react to this situation. Rekken had felt his power before, she was sure that he was an extraordinary Mage. Even still, hearing the Legacy and the Highlordess of a God Blooded clan talk about him so highly was surreal.
Then, suddenly he froze, Rekken felt it too, an ominous, approaching presence. Had she not experienced this same feeling before, she would have been terrified. His aura was so effortlessly ginormous, that it felt like he was all that there was. As if the world fell away in order to make room for his arrival. When he was near, they could feel nothing else, sense nothing else, that was the type of influence Kingston's mere existence had on her. A wave of black mist flowed into the room, the mounted torches along the musty old walls flickered gently. The chamber they stayed in seemed to be an underground Stronghold, so there was no way for such a strong breeze to pass through naturally. Then she saw it, as the rushing smog passed her, she saw Kingston, though, at that speed her eyes could only manage to process a formless smoky figure that glanced her way for just a second. Like a phantom he glided across the room, towards Ulric. Rekken couldn't keep up, but she saw the purple eyed Legacy give a firm nod, before the dark clouds suddenly lost their shape, dissipating into the air.
It looked like Ulric was able to see more than they did. While Rekken was barely able to register the outline of his movements, Ismeina merely commented on how the room suddenly got darker. But what he saw was more God than man, it was entirely different from their previous encounters. It was as if he was staring at the physical embodiment of magian essence itself. How terrifying, even his mother, Arura Amon recoiled away from the calamitous presence. The specter stopped in front of them, briefly he looked at them, then nodded towards the two girls. It seemed like he never suspected their involvement at all, the smoking corpse of a dead Riftwalker and Ulric's visible anger was enough to confirm his thoughts.
"Ulric. Escort the ladies back home, I'll deal with the corpses." Arura's eyes began to glow in a vivid, violet shade as she called on her runic essence. Leaving the bodies to his mother, the Legacy walked towards the two girls. "Get on your feet. I shall see the two of you, safely back to Lambridge." His glare was enough for them to hastily obey his command.
As they stood up, Ismeina timidly raised her hand, "Are we not going to use the... black... hole of..." She struggled to string together the correct words. "Can we not go back the way we came?" The Legacy patiently waited for her to finish. "The dimensional rift is something only the divine blood can control. We will be traveling to Lambridge by other means." Ulric was being surprisingly kind and tolerant to them. For some reason, she expected a more... condescending and arrogant, personality coming from a Legacy.
The two girls feebly followed alongside the man as he led them deeper into the underground Stronghold. The farther they went, the less it looked like an actual stronghold, and more like an abandoned labyrinth. Come to think of it, there were no utilities down here. No rooms, no furniture, nothing aside from the hung torches that dimly lit the deserted corridors. As they continued further, the light emanating from the torches grew weaker, some weren't lit at all. It was dead silent, only the rhythmic shuffling of their feet could be heard as they trudged along the old carpet floor. Then, a pulse of violet energy swam up the walls, the fleeting 𝘝𝘝𝘝𝘙𝘙𝘔𝘔 started from somewhere behind them, shooting past them and continued onwards, until it disappeared from their sight.
Before Rekken could ask what it was, Ulric was ready to explain. "It's to let whomever may be on the other end of this path know that someone is coming." The vibrant bursts would let the respective clans or kingdoms know that they will be expecting visitors. Before the death of Acampora, when the continent was united, these tunnels provided quick, and safe paths of travel. Usually, the colorful pulses of light would mean that a merchant was on the way, or traders, or a peaceful envoy bearing gifts. Now, the underpass was seldom used, but the intricately written texts, etched into every stone brick in the walls could not be erased. So the tunnels couldn't be repurposed. No matter the reasons for the visit, the signals were sent all the same. But they were no longer a means of communication, no longer a friendly cue to the receiving Clans.
It was a 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.
A message to the defending clan, that someone was using the tunnels as a route of invasion. And for the first time in years, the alarm sounded. But all was quiet in Bordium, all was quiet in Lambridge. For it was not the Kingdoms that were being threatened, but the legendary blood who's fall from grace forced their society underground. How surprised they must have been, to see those lucid surges of light. The zooming sound of the rows of runic writing activating and deactivating made them all immediately stop in their tracks. Tensions were at an all time high, rumors that their little expedition had failed, and news of the Apostles' apparent annihilation spread quickly. But still, they held out hope, waiting on a word of confirmation from their brethren stationed in Bordium.
Fearfully, they began to gather around the entrance of the tunnel. Other than the few torches that illuminated the front part of the passageway, everything beyond that was darkness. Women, children, and warriors alike all peered into the empty, abandoned and lightless underpass. Their uniquely iridescent eyes all strained to see if they could pick up any signs of movement. Then another warning came. The pulse of light briefly cast away the darkness, and for an instant, they could see that nothing was there. Then another came. Then another. Then another. Each one coming faster and closer than the ones before. The heartbeats of colorful bursts grew until the monotonous hum filled their ears. The barren corridor flashed in shades of red with each passing surge. Then they saw it. It wasn't their warrior, nor was it their enemy. Instead, a dark fog floated down the tunnel, accompanied by no person that they could see. The pulses kept coming, the foreboding mist crawled closer and closer every time they saw it.
VRRM, VRRM, VRRM
The constant bursts of energy turned into a strobing light that illuminated the tunnel. They were sure now, that whatever was coming was absolutely not one of their own. Relentlessly the vast cloud of darkness drifted closer, its smoky tendrils seemingly pulled themselves forward. The small crowd that gathered at the mouth of the underpass parted to make way for their Prophet. Even with the divine eyes of the Prophet and his strongest sorcerers, they still could not identify what was coming. "Has Orun said anything to you Dechall?"
The Riftwalker shook his head, "We have not heard from them since their initial infiltration." Prophet Dimos clicked his tongue, there's no way that Orun wouldn't immediately report the situation to him. Something terrible had to have happened, but he didn't want to assume the worst. They were the chosen race after all, every one of them carried the blood of Hal Acampora. They were the most feared faction in the continent, who could possibly...
He felt it before he saw it, the same, disastrous presence that the Warlock experienced. Everyone who stood at the entrance backed away in unison, even Dimos flinched slightly. The hazy sea of oblivion neared the entrance into their Stronghold, snuffing out every flame it passed. The fog spilled out of the tunnel, yet everything remained inert, all was still, all was silent, but none of the Riftwalkers could ignore this feeling of the calm before the storm.
This would have been the first time anyone has seen so many Riftwalkers gathered in one place. Kingston couldn't help but notice how keenly they resembled Isolda, it was as if they were all blood related siblings. Even the children shared the same snow white hair and ashen colored eyes. The warriors were easily distinguished from the rest of the people, unsurprisingly, they lacked any type of security, or any type of foreseeable defense. The one and only thing these false prophets had in common with the Ascendant, was his arrogance. Never before have they been attacked, never before has anyone challenged the chosen race. Even after the fall of Acampora, it was an unwritten rule to leave the Riftwalkers to their own vices. Whether it was out of respect for their savior or out of fear of their power, the Kingdoms tolerated their activities. In all their scheming, they never expected the Legacy to retaliate, but here he was, launching an immediate counterattack. Honor, respect, obligation, all of these were foolish delusions that they used to cover up the continents' fear of confronting the Riftwalkers. And how satisfying it would have been, if he just let them fester and carry out their plans. To see the destruction that those arrogant and corrupt monarchies would have brought onto themselves.
But what they did was simply unforgivable. It was a shame really, despite their shortcomings, they had a lot of potential as a future ally. If only they didn't choose Kingston to be their catalyst. And they would realize it too late, that this man was the 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩, possible enemy. There were no negotiations, no words exchanged, no hesitation. Only the sounds of wet slashing and bodies dropping. The people were so focused on the mass of essence that was still pouring out from the tunnel, that they didn't even notice the blood pooling by their feet. A child who was innocently clinging onto his mother's clothes, curiously touched the strange liquid that peppered his face. What was this crimson red fluid? Why was there so much? Letting go of his mother's robes he used both hands to wipe his face. "Mama?" He called. "It's not coming off." The woman peeled her eyes away from the entrance, as her gaze passed by the deathly scene of carnage, she failed to muster enough strength to even gasp. Instead, her mouth hung open in shock, noticing that she couldn't feel her child's hand anymore, she slowly looked down at him.
They've never seen blood before, not even a little. Violence and fighting were alien concepts to anyone that was not a Mage of the three Priesthoods. All the children there didn't understand it, even as they smeared the dark red substance all over their little faces. All they knew was that there was so much of it that they could bathe in it. At the mouth of the cave the Prophet fell to his knees. "... this... can't... be." The wet sound of his insides spilling out into the river of blood snapped the people out of their shock. The abyssal fog was all around them now, like a reaper of death it left a graveyard of Riftwalkers as it passed, sparing only those who were not warriors. Then, Dimos' body fell forward, his face submerged beneath a puddle of blood. Scattered screams so small and choked that they came out as whimpers sounded from the now widowed mothers. Unable to look away from the slaughter they held onto their children and slowly backed away. All they could do was wait for the storm to pass. How ironic it was, that a breeze so gentle, a cloud so peaceful, could bring so much death to their homes. They could barely follow it, even with their Godlike eyes. It was as if the clouds were breathing, the black mist would momentarily explode outwards, then breathe back in, then outwards in a different area, then back in. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. They could almost hear it. Each breath felled another warrior. They felt the cold embrace breeze along their skin, then it disappeared. Silently they watched the ghastly smoke evaporate. Those who survived would never forget the day they soaked in the rivers of blood, spilt by a 𝗚𝗼𝗱 of 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.
It wasn't out of rage, it wasn't for retribution. It simply needed to be done. The Riftwalkers needed a spark, a sacrifice, something or someone to fuel their campaign of vengeance against Iota. Who was he, to blame them for choosing him? But alas, they chose him, and anyone that attacked him, was his enemy. And the only thing that awaited those who opposed him, was death... and so death he sent forth. They never learn, the first time. That was, the undying flaw of arrogant rulers. They think that no matter how many times they provoke a beast, no matter how many dragons they wake, until their actions bring them face to face with absolute death, they'll never learn. But that night... they did.
Before first light, the slaughter had ended. The Priesthood of Apostles was exterminated, and the headless corpses of some conspiring kings sat in bloodied thrones. The one, and only, damning piece of evidence that they found, was the abyssal black smoke that stained the bodies. With the attack on Lambridge, the annihilation of the Apostles, and the assassination of the Kings that were involved in the scheme, it wouldn't take long for them to realize who was responsible.
"Ohh, Kingston!" Lance exclaimed. "You know how to put on quite the show my friend." Laughing heartily, the Descendant waved the doors to the throne room shut. What delightful news, the Legacy was well aware of the Riftwalker's schemes, and was planning on dealing with them very soon. But it seems like he won't have to worry about those troublesome sorcerers for quite awhile. The obliteration of one of the Three Priesthoods was the largest loss they have ever sustained, aside from the death of Acampora. They'll need quite a long time to recover. But one thing bothered him, Prophet Dimos was cautious enough to not send all the Riftwalkers, but desperate enough to deploy the entire Priesthood of Apostles. What forced this reaction from him? He didn't like it, they were the Divine race, this plan was tens of years in the making. The result was all too depressing, too tragic. Something happened that made The Prophet play his hand too harshly, and too quickly. There must be something that he was missing... but what was it?
✟
"What happened?!" Rekken blurted out furiously. She thought that her and Ismeina were the main targets of this invasion, but the others were clearly in a much, much worse condition than she was. Theodore was especially hurt, his arms were covered in blood and dust, and his sleeves were completely torn apart. But what worried her was his expression, wounds were easy to heal, but what happened seemed to have taken quite a mental toll on her friend. Gaius wasn't as bad, he stood tall and was currently speaking with- "My Queen!" Rekken quickly dropped to one knee, just as Norvella saw the trio approaching. Completely ignoring the kneeling girl she rushed forward, tears forming in her eyes, "My daughter!"
"Mother!" Ismeina took a step towards the queen with open arms. Engeram fell to his knees and clutched his chest tightly, relieved to see his wife and daughter embracing each other. Rekken awkwardly rose to her feet and shuffled over to Gaius, "Why is the palace in shambles?" She asked while looking around the destroyed manor. "We were attacked. By the Apostles." He was talking to Rekken, but his eyes were on Cicero's Legacy. Following his gaze she waved off her friend, "Ulric and Kingston are on good terms now, he brought us back here."
"Is that so..."
"Wait, you were attacked by who?"
"The Apostles." He answered absentmindedly. Rekken blinked, uncertain of what she was hearing. Giving her friend an unamused, deadpan stare she sneered, "How very humorous of you Gaius. Really, I am not in the mood for games-"
"He is telling the truth." Isolda confirmed. The priestess was crouched near a pile of what looked like jagged pieces of broken, amber rock. "The Apostles sought to capture Kingston. But they failed." Isolda never lies, she never has, and Rekken knew that, but a part of her brain still, so strongly doubted the words that came out of her mouth. The Riftwalkers were infamously untouchable, everyone acted like they permitted their existence out of respect for The Ascendant one. But in truth, they were all just too scared to interfere in their affairs. Even if their reputation had been tarnished, the world would not soon forget the iron grip the divine blood had over the continent for decades. It is said that each Priesthood, by themselves had the power to rival an entire God Blood. Their numbers were small, Riftwalkers were the rarest breed of mages, but each warrior was at the very least, an elite, apex level mage. But the Priesthoods were more than that, they were the cavalry of God himself. "This was the Eternal Triad." Isolda held up a piece of the yellow rock. "A sealing technique that only the Priesthood of Apostles could use." She let the amber fragment fall from her hands, and watched as it shattered onto the floor. "And yet he broke through the chains, as if it were a simple binding spell." Rekken frowned and shook her head slightly, she opened her mouth and wanted to say something along the lines of, 'That's absurd' but shockingly... she knew better.
"If I may." Ulric raised his hand. "Dawn is breaking, and Iota will soon learn of your King's... deeds. I must depart back to my homeland, and prepare for the oncoming... erm... political strife." The Legacy politely bowed, turning around he left a parting word with them before disappearing behind a veil of purple essence, "I advise you all do the same." His tone with them was entirely different from his notorious reputation. The Amon family were a cold, blunt, and unforgiving people, yet with them he was respectful and endearing. She wondered if his encounters with Kingston had any influence on his change of behavior.
The bodies were already disposed of, aside from the Warlock's because of his abnormally large reserve of soul essence. Melicent and the other young maids were cleaning and purifying the parts of the palace that were already repaired. Many builders were woken up that day, with the task of rebuilding the King's castle. The people were starting to gather outside the main gates, wondering what had happened inside the royal estate. Inside the manor, a handful of anxious voices snapped back and forth. "What should we do? Kingston still isn't here!"
"We should wait and let the king-"
"There is no reason to wait! I am the Queen, I am just as capable of addressing the people and there is no need for us to rely on that barbarian!"
"Dear, I-"
Norvella shot a fiery glare at her husband, daring him to object. Heeding her warning Engeram shrank backwards, out of the conversation. "Her Majesty is right, just her presence should be enough to prevent any further unrest from occurring." Gaius raised his arm in approval, "We are still just your King's guard." The Queen gave him a terse nod, before she briskly made her way towards the exit. Norvella was already scheduled to greet the kingdom today, unfortunately their reunion would be from the broken terrace of a once again, reconstructing palace. But the people loved their Queen, if it was her, then they were confident that she could pacify the villagers. Rekken, Isolda and the princess were all huddled around Theodore who was mumbling something under his breath. "Tch." Gaius clicked his tongue, still frustrated with his friend's early surrender. What was he thinking? Just laying down his arms and sulking in defeat while the battle was still going on? It was completely out of character for him. He stormed over to where his friend sat, but as he neared he could hear now, what Theodore was saying, "-kos. Iakos. Argentum come out... iak..os." He muttered weakly. The runes on his body responded in a weak, silver glimmer. Rekken gave Gaius a quizzical glance, without actually talking her eyes seemed to ask, 'Why is he trying to summon his soul beast? And why isn't it working?' He solemnly shook his head in response, telling her to ask these questions another time.
Theodore Destrian, a couple of years ago, none of the King's Elite would be able to hold a candle against him. From childhood to the academy, he was the most gifted among them. Superior in every aspect, he excelled in every subject they studied, he was smarter than even the professors at the institution. In fact, at that age, he showed more potential than the Ascendant One himself. Gaius, Rekken and maybe even Isolda, all looked up to him. But seemingly out of nowhere, his growth stagnated. At first, it wasn't very concerning, since he was already years ahead of his classmates. But as time passed, his parents became increasingly worried about his progress. It was a cruel thing, to be the strongest, the most gifted. Especially at his young age, he could feel exactly when his relationships changed as he lost his standing. A Mage awakening Iakos was the most important achievement of their entire life. Every second of training, every moment of their life, every ounce of blood shed and every drop of sweat, were all dedicated to the awakening of their Iakos. It was a huge honor, royal banquets were held and the awakenings were celebrated for months on end. An entire tournament was created in order to showcase the strongest rookie awakenings. The most anticipated contest in all of Iota that Theodore would continuously miss because of his delayed awakening. This continental duel was the grandest stage an academy Mage could ever grace, and yet the most gifted of them all had never set foot onto this platform.
The talentless prodigy they called him. The rise and fall of the Destrian house's golden child was known all throughout Iota. How could the most revolutionary sorcerer since Hal Acampora, not have a spirit blade? Day after day he trained, meditated, studied, every day when the time came for the students to hone their Iakos, he would sit off to the side, unable to even conjure the faintest sign of some kind of progress. He was praised and endeared, then ridiculed, mocked and forgotten.
And despite all his greatest efforts, nothing changed. He accepted his graduation with incredible shame, there was no cheering, there was no applause, just silence as the disgraced golden child shook the academy director's hand. The Destrian family table was vacant. That feeling of pure anguish and betrayal he felt then... he would never forget it. Days after their graduation, when his name was all but forgotten, and any chance of redemption had long since passed, Theodore Destrian would revolutionize the world of magium once again. It was almost poetic, the dishonored prodigy, the golden boy of his age, who was unable to awaken Iakos. To be first and only Mage, to forego the initial stage of Awakening, and acquire a Soul Beast. And for it to be the strongest summon in the entire world... it was on all accounts, a true miracle. That's exactly what Gaius thought the first time he saw the colossal serpents.
It was a bleak morning, dawn had just broken through the clouds, and the blades of grass were wet with morning dew. Gaius, Isolda and Rekken were just named the three most prodigal mages of their era, yet none of them could bring themselves to celebrate. After all, how could they drink from the cups of the people who abandoned their friend? It was a painfully bittersweet feeling. The discussions of sending them to Lambridge had begun, and soon they would have to finally leave Theodore behind, and continue their lives without him. So when he asked to meet them in private, in a secluded ruin, away from the kingdom. They all thought he was going to say goodbye to them. But those were not the words that he would speak. No, the words he said that day were not words of departure. The three of them watched with wide eyes, like a litter of curious kittens. Even then, they all had an admiration for him, because even if everyone else had already cast away the former prodigy... they all knew how truly talented Theodore was.
"𝗜𝗮𝗸𝗼𝘀." That was the first word he'd said in months, and it sent chills down their spines. A brilliant shade of green filled his eyes, the runes that stretched from his hand up to his face, were set ablaze with a new life that they hadn't seen in him for a long time. They all held their breath as he lifted his arm, a familiar grin, spread on his face, "𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉." A glowing silver colour flooded into his markings. "𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐦."
An ear rending hiss sent a wave of massive tremors that collapsed a handful of old, stone buildings.
"𝘒𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘚𝘚𝘚𝘚𝘚𝘚𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴." Two, gigantic serpents shot out from behind him, jaws opened and fangs bared. Their hulking bodies shook the ground, the twin snakes slithered over each other, their menacingly bright red eyes made every hair on his friends' bodies stand. Their pearly steel scales of armor were both beautiful, and terrifying.
The three of them couldn't believe what they were seeing, the Awakening of the prodigal son of magic, and the first Mage to ever attain a soul beast before their spirit blade. Not only that, but there were two of them. Never before has this happened. Argentum was more than convincing enough for the academy to plead his case to the God Bloods. His awakening was kept a secret from the general public, but that didn't matter. It gave him what he needed, to become a powerful Mage, a second chance to be able to stand alongside his friends. But it had been stolen away from him. Perhaps the most precious part about his twin snakes was their sentience. They weren't just simple summons, they had the potential for growth, the capability for evolution. Carefully he nursed their power, trained with them, he practically raised them. Yet it all seemed like it was for naught. In seconds the Warlock was able to possess Argentum and use them against Theodore. And now they weren't responding to his call. He'd lost the one thing that gave his life any worth.
But they weren't kids anymore, they were real sorcerers, fighting real battles. Death was a real threat to them and he couldn't allow his friend to go into war with this mentality. Sympathy wasn't what he needed right now, swiftly Gaius stepped forward and grabbed Theodore's shoulder, "Get up. Seeing you sulk over such a thing is pathetic." His voice was low and cold, unlike his usual self. "Gaius..." Rekken reached out her hand but he snapped back. "If Kingston was not what he was, we would all be dead right now. The Apostles were already weakened after fighting him, and even still we lacked the power to defeat them." With a chiding roughness he tried shaking his friend back into reality, "And you respond by falling to your knees in front of the enemy?" Theodore looked into his eyes emptily. "I am disappointed Theo. Out of all of us, I always thought you had the strongest will." He let go of his grip on his shoulder and looked away. The prodigy's body slumped back, Theodore, still not wanting to move. Rekken stood beside him, not knowing whether or not to comfort or console her friend, and Isolda as always, gazed at him aimlessly.
✟
"Oi." Kingston called out. "If you wish to say something then come out and say it. For what reason are you keeping me in this cage?" His words were swallowed by the overwhelming quietude that was the Angels' time space. He was on his way back to Lambridge, when the environment around him was suddenly frozen. He was more frustrated than in awe this time though, asking that the Auspex just deliver his message so he can be on his way. But nobody seemed to answer his calls, it had been a little over half an hour, yet no Deity appeared, and time remained paralyzed.
Then, somewhere that he couldn't see, some place where he could not hear, and some presence that he could not feel, a muffled voice spoke. "I knew those dogheaded heathens were terrible allies!" He didn't understand how he was able to hear it, no sound reached his ears and he had no clue as to where this voice was coming from. It was impossible to comprehend yet so clear at the same time. "That damned Sol' Ra, always playing devil's advocate-"
FUWOMP
"Ah." An Angel appeared, it wasn't Sol' Ra, but a female Auspex, wings and all. She was much brighter than the Deity that came before her. No black crown adorned her head, and she wore no hood. Just a simple, flowing white robe and a golden laurel wreath on her head. Thick strands of brunette hair fell around her shoulders. The only thing that was odd, was that her face was literally stone. Her skin was greg and her facial features look like they were chiseled in place. As if she could read his thoughts the Angel spoke, "Mine is a temporary and disillusionary body. If I were to show you my true face. You would surely die." Her voice was so powerful that it seemed to echo throughout the entire forest. If they weren't confined to this time cube, he was sure that the entire continent would hear her. "So you are Kingston. Our Shepherd Of Annihilation." Without moving a muscle she floated downwards, closer to him. "Interesting." Her eyes had the same yellow shade as Sol' Ra, and just like Sol' Ra, her gaze seemed to pierce his soul. They all had the same look, the Riftwalkers and the Angels. They saw the world in a different light after all. True Sight gave them the ability to see the raw state of magian essence. How much more powerful were the eyes of the gods? "You have a pure soul. Unlike your siblings across the sea." She began to circle around him as she spoke. "The Auspex you usually commune with. He is very... emotional. Relatively." Not at all he thought, that being? Was he the only one who thought that Sol' Ra was downright terrifying? The Angel tilted her head and looked at him curiously, "A cruel trick of fate it was, for you to be the last one. Perhaps if only you had awakened first, then we could have won the war."
"You say that as if we've already lost." Kingston said uncertainly. "Because we have." Her bluntness and stone face made it impossible for him to decipher any kind of emotion from her. Were Angels capable of sarcasm? "We have confirmed that one of the War Powers have defected."
Kingston frowned, "How do you mean?" The Auspex stopped in the air, floating in place. "One of your siblings have made contact with the Theurgy." She paused. "He has not communicated with us since, so it is wisest to believe that he is working with the demons."
Her words stabbed deep into his chest. How can that be? Wait, isn't that an absolute catastrophe? Even if, by some miracle, he was able to unite the whole world against the common enemy, the odds were still stacked against him. But now he was being told that not only did they lose a War Power, but that the War Power was a traitor? "Sol' Ra." The Angel blurted, "Was... soft. Despite suffering the penalty multiple times, he would not say what needed to be said. He has taken quite a liking in your species you see. And so they sent me." The Angel spread her arms daintily. "I am Auspex Sol' Ruleon." Was it a trick of the light? Or did the world seem to bow at the sound of her name? "We have watched your growth closely. Your eyes have never known to fear anyone. But perhaps... are you afraid of us? My little Shepherd." His eyebrows knit together in confusion, was that a trick question? He would usually be the last one to admit his fears, but this was the Angel of God he was speaking to. He would be a fool to not respect her power. Before he could respond the Angel spoke again, "But Alas, I already know your answer." The glisten in her amber eyes seemed to soften, and her voice became a little more... sorrowful? "I tell you this, Kingston. We are not the ones who should be feared. They are." That is absolutely not what he wanted to hear right now. Still, the Auspex continued, "You can become stronger than us child. It may seem impossible now, but you can. You must. That is the only way we can win." Again, not the words that he wanted to hear. "And thus, we are removing the restrictions for how you could use your powers." That was a lot better. "The other continent has been compromised. There is no way of knowing how far the Theurgy's influence reaches. So if your life is ever threatened. You may deal with the threat as you see fit."
He didn't completely understand it, but it seemed like the Angels were making an awful lot of compromises. It was clear that things were not going as planned, from the moment they met, the plot seemed to continuously thicken. At first it was as simple as reconciling with the other War Powers, and recruiting Legacies. But the thought of a Shepherd turning against Godkind and humanity themselves, was so outrageous that they forgot to even consider it. The prospect of a war being waged between the Primordial Shepards... such an encounter would tear apart the very earth they live on. But that was the least of his worries, the Theurgy having communicated with a War Power, means that those demons have found a way to traverse the worlds, it wouldn't be crazy to assume that soon, they would have to come face to face with the devilish race. "And you are unable to assist us any further?" Kingston asked. "Do the Theurgy have such restrictions?"
Sol' Ruleon shook her head solemnly, "The demons are not bound by the law of the Almighty. They have the advantage in that aspect." The Angel pursed her lips, contemplating on whether or not she should say any more. In her eyes it looked like she truly wanted to help him, but her mouth remained closed. Were they destined to fail? From an objective standpoint, after the information he received today, was there even any point in fighting this war? There was absolutely no chance they could win as they are now. But who knows, maybe Lance has something up his sleeves, then again, could it be possible for him to become corrupted as well? Gaius, Theodore, Rekken and Isolda were all too weak to battle against another War Power, nevermind a Theurgy. Kingston's jaw was clenched tight, an angry light burned in his eyes on his otherwise, plain expression. He didn't regret gaining these powers, but it felt as though an impossible weight was pushed onto his shoulders, and the Angels were not going to be able to help him in the slightest.
Without saying anything, Sol' Ruleon suddenly averted her gaze away from Kingston. The Angel slowly drifted away, her eyes were no longer a honeyed yellow, but now a kaleidoscopic myriad of colors. Her gem-like orbs were dead set on something over the horizon, he tried to follow her gaze but he failed to see anything other than wildlife and trees. Then, she stopped, dead in her tracks. He didn't think it was possible for her to become any more still than the statue she already was, but her entire body seemed to stiffen. "My God..." She breathed. A look of pure shock on her angelic face.
Kingston squinted, still unable to see what was causing her to react this way. Time was still frozen around them, he was always curious about how exactly this temporal zone worked. How far did it stretch? He never had the chance to find out, but it couldn't have been that far, seeing as the trees in front of them were being parted by an unknown force. A gale of wind swept across the land, forcing every tree to bow and every creature to scamper away. The gust of air was so strong that it pushed Kingston back several steps. The powerful breeze streaked past them, glazing across every nation on the continent. The abnormal tempest was felt by every living thing throughout the entire world. Though, it didn't affect the Angel, but the look on her face made it seem like it had just severed her arm. Standing himself upright, he gave Sol' Ruleon a confused glance, "Is the temporal spell not active?"
She didn't answer. Then, the ground began to shake, the trees around them swayed violently as the tremors increased in intensity. The distant rumble grew closer and closer, he could almost hear the ground starting to split. The earthern soil beneath them cracked and splintered. The massive quakes rolled past them nearly knocking Kingston off balance. The tremors didn't stop, traveling onwards to the rest of the continent. The following silence, then appeared a nation sized pillar of dark purple energy that ascended far beyond the skyline. The pulsing waves of black essence pushed the colossal pillar further above, shooting past the dispersed clouds. He could tell that it was far away, on the other side of the sea. Whatever was happening, it wasn't in Iota... which made the sheer size of the beam all the more horrifying. "No... no. No, no, no." The Angel pleaded to nobody in particular. Slowly she floated in the direction of the calamity, extending her hand outwards, as if she could reach it with her arm. Then, in an instant, the pillar disappeared, and all was quiet. What was going on, in the other continent? Kingston looked at the Auspex for some type of answer. Instead he saw a face that he did not think it was possible for a Deity to make. A despairing expression that made the Angel sink down to the floor.
"This cannot be." She grieved, her gaze, still fixed on the horizon. Kingston took a cautious step towards her, "What did you see, Angel." The Auspex turned to him, her eyes had returned to their regular yellow, and despite the absence of pupils, was that sadness that he saw in her amber orbs? "I am sorry Kingston. We, Godkind, have failed to lead you in this war." What does that mean? What did she see?
"Sol' Ruleon, what. Did. You. See." Who did he think he was, asking an Angel a question with such a demanding tone. But he needed to know, Deity or not, they involved humanity in this war. He was already growing tired of being kept in the dark about all this. Before she could respond to his question, the cracks in the ground beneath their feet widened, then it exploded into a full blown crater. Squalls of dark smoke carried him backwards, away from the newly formed canyon. "It's still not done?" Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, was it just him or did the forest they were standing in get considerably warmer? No, something was about to happen, he could feel it in his very bones. "Angel untie your tongue this instant and at least tell me what we are going up against. If there's still a chance-"
FOOMP
Another Auspex suddenly materialized behind Sol' Ruleon. The familiar black crown and long, spindly limbs almost made him smile. But something about his appearance told Kingston that this wasn't a friendly rendezvous. He didn't say a word as he grabbed onto his divine brethren. Her brother's bony fingers latching onto her shoulder, shook her out of her dismal reverie. "We must go."
"Wait!" She cried.
"There is no more time. We are leaving." What was this heavy sorrow that filled his raspy voice? Why were the Angels acting as though the war had already been lost? Sol' Ruleon struggled to get away from the other Angel's grip. Her squirming increased when her physical image began to wither away. The pieces of her Divine fabric, dissipating into the air. Finally, accepting that she could not defy her brother she cried out to the Shepherd one last time, "Go north! The farthest north! Find the Seer's eye and-" Then she was gone. The amber glow of her eyes vanished last. Sol' Ra was silent and unmoving as he too began to disintegrate, his presence in the mortal world beginning to disappear. A devilish heat emanated from the continental crater. Something was coming. He could feel it. As the Auspex's divine being returned back to the heavens, he gave Kingston one final, regretful look.
𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗢𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗠
A monstrous wall of fire erupted from beneath the canyon. Its flames extended far beyond what his eyes could see, reaching the skies. The heat burned away everything that it touched, its hellish inferno blazed brightly, from the other continent, across the sea, to Iota, all around the world. He was able to dash away from the eruption in time, but the blistering hotness still singed his clothes and cracked his lips. Even the trees that were far away from the fire dried up, its leaves withered and fell from the branches. What was going on? He didn't even have time to think about the damage this had caused, the lives that were already lost and the Kingdoms that were destroyed. He needed to regroup with his comrades. A trail of black mist streaked alongside the wall of fire. As he was traveling back to Lambridge, the Angel's last words echoed in his mind. The Seer's eye. North. The farthest north. There was no question, the place where they would have to go. The only nation that existed that far in that direction. The arctic wasteland, ruled by none other than... the Risean Vikings.