"When's the usual fun start, eh?" Dain's hoarse voice rasped through the cavernous Pits of Agony, his chains creaking as he shifted, his translucent soul form hanging, by his arms, from the ceiling.
Duvran stood before him, a smirk of superiority forming on his lips. "Not here to torture you today, brother...as much as we both enjoy it."
Another infernal god, Belenos, god of fire and forge, stood behind Duvran, his face stoic but with sharp features. His tall, broad frame was clothed in blackened armor, soot covered his forearms where an ember-like glow pulsed under his skin.
Dain rasped a dry chuckle, his shackles clinking as his frame vibrated. His ash-strewn hair fell over his face but his scornful smile could still be seen. "What, then? Come to spend some brotherly time, to shove your victory in my face again?"
"I came to see you...that's all," Duvran said, stepping closer, hands clasped behind him.
Dain's coarse laughter echoed off the rocky walls, his chains rattling as he bared his teeth. "Oh, I'm convinced...heartwarming, Duvran. Almost brought a tear to my eye."
Suddenly, the overlapping thuds of boots came from the corridor of the pits—Macha strode into the pit, her spear slung across her back, black armor creaking with every step. Lugh followed her closely, a slight uneasiness in his mismatched eyes as they darted around the dreaded pits.
Macha halted as Duvran and Belenos turned, her violet hair tied up in a bun, few strands falling by the sides of her face. She extended the staff to Duvran with both hands, its crystal head glowing weakly like a dying star.
"How did it go?" Duvran asked, taking it as he turned it in his hands, studying it.
Macha's gaze flicked to Dain for a brief moment, meeting his hollow eyes before returning to Duvran's. "Surprisingly, the tomb wasn't guarded by any traps. Lugh found it lying somewhere."
Duvran's lips curved into a smile as he looked at Lugh. "Well done, Lugh...making yourself useful at last." Lugh nodded at him, masking his unease with a smile but said nothing.
Duvran turned back to Dain, approaching him with slow, taunting steps as he lifted the staff. "Recognize this, Dain?"
Recognition flashed in Dain's eyes, his voice laced with mockery as he smiled at the staff. "Balmeir's toy...damn thing's older than your pride. What's a stick supposed to do in your futile hunt for the Aetherion? Wave it and perform tricks?"
Duvran twirled the staff lazily between his hands, his eyes tracing its silver veins. "I don't know its full worth yet...but Faleir deems it useful, and he's the sharpest mind among us all. Speaking of..." He looked at Macha, his eyes narrowing. "Where is he?"
Macha's expression remained cold as she shifted her stance. "I don't know his whereabouts...haven't seen him since I left for the tomb."
Almost immediately, the air vibrated, a shadow in the corner behind Belenos taking form as Faleir stepped out of it, his eyes gleaming with intent. He closed his eyes and took a short, deep breath before looking at the faces that had turned to him.
"Doors exist for a reason," Duvran said drily without turning to face him.
Faleir shrugged as he walked towards Duvran, rolling his shoulders lightly. "Doorways are too slow...business calls." His silver eyes scanned the pit, settling on Dain with an unconcerned stare.
Duvran held out the staff to him, its crystal sending faint pulses running down its veins. "I'm hoping this is the moment where you finally reveal what you wanted this for." he said.
Faleir took it, his fingers tracing the staff's veins as he examined it while walking to the front of the gathered gods, his back against Dain as he began, words slow and deliberate.
"This relic...Balmeir's staff...can be used to summon his echo from the Wane. Then we'll inquire from him about the location of the Aether shard."
Dain's chains rattled as he leaned forward with a snarl. "Balmeir destroyed that shard...he was told to. You're chasing ghosts."
Faleir did not so much as spare him a glance as he continued. "The shard is a fragment of the Aetherion...hence, beyond any force of destruction. I'm sure Balmeir did not think of that...he must have held on to it after being unable to get rid of it."
He paced about, boots scuffling silently on the stone as he spoke. "The plan unfolds thus: we summon Balmeir's echo, ascertain the shard's resting place. Then, during the cosmic convergence in seven months...the same one our dear Dain failed to harness properly...we use it to stir the Aetherion, awakening it through the shard's pulse. That event, when realms align, will lead us to the Aetherion."
Duvran's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, a feeling of triumph in him as he faced Dain with a smug smirk. "Faleir's wit never fails...your old right hand, Dain, now mine. A fine twist, don't you think? You've lost."
Dain's shackles scraped as he laughed out with defiance, a feral grin flashing his teeth. "Lost? Not while demons claw the mortal dirt, plotting to free the Titans. Not while you gods cower from their shadows...I haven't lost."
His coarse voice rose, echoing off the cavern's walls as braziers flickered. "As long as the Aetherion's beyond your grasp, I haven't lost. Even if I fade away, one day those Titans'll rise, and you'll all pay for rebelling against our creators...your blood'll soak the realms you cling to."
Duvran's jaw tightened with irritation, but he turned and walked away, Belenos, Macha and Lugh falling in beside him. Faleir hesitated, looking at Dain, something between disgust and pity flashing in his eyes, before vaporizing into thin air like smoke.
Dain's yelling chased them out, his frustrated yell mixed with the frantic rattling of his chains. "You think you've won? Walk away all you like...the Titans will stomp down your thrones to dust, your heavens will fall, your hell will freeze! I'll laugh from the void when it comes!"
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"I trust you all grasp why we're gathered here," Ogma said, his baritone voice resounding clear as he paced the polished marble floor of the Celestium, sandals patting softly against the floor. His hands folded behind his back, dark hair with metallic strands resting on his shoulders, catching the bright glow beaming from the hall's glass atrium that refracted the light of the eternal sun.
Statues of the heavenly gods stood towering along the walls, each carved in unfading stone, their frozen gazes locked on the gods seated below. The assembly sat in a wide arc of dark oak-wood chairs spaced across the open floor.
He turned, robes rustling as he took a few thoughtful steps. "It's because we're the last of the heavenly primordials... we're what's left after the civil war tore us apart and Dain's brood left. We all remember how Duvran came to Eolan with his schemes, promising the Aetherion's return, but we can't trust him...his hands are soiled with betrayal. I've called us to weave a plan...to retrieve it without his knowledge."
Muiric, god of seas and storms, leaned forward in his seat, a silver goblet containing god-nectar—a liquid that only he could brew, enhancing a god's vitality and barely slowing aging—in his grip, the amber liquid splashing around as he swirled it, his snobbish voice drawling. "Where's Eolan, then?"
Before Ogma could reply, he rose to his feet, pacing with predatory patience, his adorned sea-green robes pooling at his feet and his hair was kept short and spiky but always moist. His gray eyes gleamed with mischief as he took a sip and tapped the goblet against his palm. "I understand his oath of silence...grief for Ilona's a heavy one, we all know it...but I don't recall him swearing off showing his face. Why isn't he here?"
Ogma breathed through his teeth, halting his steps as he gripped the back of his chair. He was accustomed to Muiric's drama but today's episode had something else to it. "Eolan gave me leave to summon you all...to lay out this plan. He trusts us to act."
Muiric swayed his arms wide, stepping closer, nectar spilling out of the goblet as he gestured at the seated gods. "Trusts us? What kind of leader skips a council like this...tosses it to another while he sulks?"
His voice gradually rose, dramatic and sharp, reverberating through the hall. "It's disrespectful...to me, to all of us. I'd wager some here agree..." His eyes quickly flicked to Taranis, a shared side-eye, then back to Ogma. "Grieving Ilona or not, a leader who won't speak? Who hides? I question his leadership of this pantheon...there's better blood right here. Taranis, Morrigan, Lugus...even you, Ogma...we could steer this ship."
Ogma's eyes narrowed, his expression cautious as his hands tightened around the backrest of his chair. He strode forward, eyes fixed on the sea god with distrustful glare. "Is this a coup you're brewing, Muiric?"
Muiric laughed, a low, dismissive chuckle as he took a few steps back and gulped a long swig, nectar dripping down his chin. He wiped it off with his sleeve, wearing a malicious smirk on his face. "A coup? Hardly...spare me the drama, Ogma. No bloodshed needed, we're not like those infernal savages, slaughtering each other...Duvran ending Dain's whole bloodline, what a mess."
He waved off the disgust that had crept into his tone, knuckle rings glinting under the golden rays from the atrium. "Just a harmless nudge...maybe a temporary shift till Eolan pulls himself out from his gloom. No harm in that."
Ogma stood before him, a stare down of wisdom against presumed superiority. Then he slowly walked away, pacing an arc around Muiric with his arms folded as he swept his gaze over the seated gods. "Does anyone else share this...suggestion?" His gaze settled on Taranis first, who hunched forward in his seat, hands flexing on his chair's arm rest.
Taranis then leaned back, giving Ogma a nod. "I agree...Eolan's silence weighs too heavy now."
Ogma's eyes shifted to Morrigan, seated still and staring at the floor, scarred hands resting on his knees.
"Morrigan?"
Morrigan's eyes lifted, meeting Ogma's, weariness in his voice. "I stand with Eolan...grief doesn't unmake a leader."
Ogma turned to face Lugus, the stocky god of earth and stone, clad in stone-gray armor, as he rubbed a chapped hand over his dusty beard.
"Lugus?"
Lugus shrugged in his seat, spreading his arms as he leaned back with a sigh. "We're all in charge here...gods rule as one, don't they?"
Muiric scoffed, strolling back to his seat and rolling his eyes as he emptied his drink, slamming the goblet onto his chair's arm with an echoing thud. "Spare me that weak-kneed rot, Lugus...it's either you're with us," he jerked a thumb at Ogma, "or you're with Eolan. Pick."
Lugus's brow furrowed in contemplation, his meaty fingers drumming on his chair, then he nodded gently. "Eolan, then."
Ogma glared at Muiric, his voice as firm as the marble beneath his feet, as he declared. "By majority, Eolan still leads this pantheon...whatever this was, it stops now."
He turned and paced towards his seat but paused after a few strides. "Or have we forgotten how Eolan bravely led us against our creators...when we claimed our power?"
Muiric smirked, slumping into his seat and twirling his empty chalice causing god-nectar to fill it up again, materializing out of thin air. "Aye, and see where that rebellion got us...cursed and decimated."
Ogma's fists clenched as he turned around sharply, robes brushing the floor. He could barely restrain his disapproval. "You sided with him, Muiric...we all did. Dain and Balmeir were the only ones who opposed the rebellion."
"And even when the Titans rose as our punishment, Eolan didn't falter. He led the fight, held us together as they slaughtered us. He found the Aetherion, and his lover gave herself to bind them. That sacrifice is why we're still breathing...but it'll all come to nothing if we let this hunger for power blind us. We need to stop our extinction, not hasten it."
Muiric's smirk faded, his eyes shifting to Taranis who avoided his gaze. He heaved a sigh of defeat as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Fine...I'll drop it for now. I didn't come here to be lectured about our bloodstained history."
Ogma cleared his throat, his voice hardening as he glanced across the open floor, his eyes lingering on the towering statues before settling on the seated gods. "I know...we're here because the stakes are dire. Fortunately for us, Duvran doesn't have the Aetherion yet. If he did, he'd have cast us from this realm to the infernal pits by now...we all know how badly he and his brother wanted the heavens to themselves."
His robes rustled as he turned, and strode to his seat but didn't sit but rather went behind it and rested his arms on the head rest. "But if he doesn't have it, the danger's worse...it could slip to the demons, and then we're all dust."
Muiric scoffed, his patience wearing thin. "Get to the damn point, Ogma...I have a domain to tend. Someone has to keep those mortals inland." He rolled his eyes and took another sip from his nectar.
Ogma huffed, piercing Muiric with a cold stare before he continued. "The plan is to take Dain and that Voidfang blade of his, from the infernal realm."
Taranis tsked, a low mocking chuckle escaping his lips. "That's your grand plan? Start another war?" He glanced at the other gods who said nothing in response.
Ogma straightened, his jaw tight as he faced Taranis. "It's no war...Duvran controls the Maw of Uraith, yes, but it won't come to that."
Taranis waved him off with a dismissive smirk. "You're dreaming...he'll unleash that thing before he lets us near Dain."
Ogma shook his head, walking to the front of his seat and settling down into it, adjusting himself before speaking. "We wait till his ultimatum expires...then we have every right to march down and demand what's ours. Arrogant as Duvran is, he still bows to Eolan's authority."
Muiric's goblet clinked as he set it down and gulped loudly. "What do we need Dain for, then? Quit playing around the edges."
Ogma leaned, his voice dropping low but sufficiently audible. "I have deciphered that the only way Duvran has kept Dain's soul from drifting into the Wane is with Baivha's wraithshackle, no doubt. But only Baivha or Morrigan can destroy it."
He looked at Morrigan, an understanding nod shared between them. "Once it's broken, Dain's soul enters the Wane and then his echo can be summoned and questioned, and we know an echo never lies. Hence, we'll learn what happened...the true whereabouts of the Aetherion."
Muiric twirled his goblet lazily, clicking his tongue in disagreement. "So we have to wait for the ultimatum before we act? Time's bleeding out, Ogma...this is dire, and you're dawdling."
Morrigan shifted uneasily in his seat, leaning forward as he pondered. "Muiric's right...is there no way to skip the wait?"
Ogma nodded slowly, weighing his options as doubt crept into his mind. "If we move now, we'd need an infernal god on our side...someone to be our eyes and possibly our puppet."
Muiric dismissed the suggestion with a jeering laughter. "All Duvran's dogs are loyal to the core...none would turn on him."
Taranis's silver eyes glinted with sudden insight, a cunning smirk on his lips as he rose from his seat, stepping forward to the center of the gathering. "I know one god who's always played both sides and would still love to dance that line...Lugh."
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"Gonna tell me what you and your squad saw at the West Wall, or are you holding back 'cause Aric's here?" Garrick's voice cut through the steady plodding of hooves through Yrengoth's mushy ground.
Dusk stretched out above, painting the sky orange, the forest growing dark around them. Edrik's horse trudged alongside, Aric sat quietly behind him in the saddle, the familiar weight allowing his mind drift to the bizarre sighting at the West Wall.
Edrik blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He shifted in his saddle, Aric adjusting to accommodate his athletic frame. "It's top secret," he said, looking at Garrick. "But I won't keep it from you two...long as you treat it like one."
Aric gripped Edrik's waist to steady himself, his legs aching from the horse's slow struts, Faleir's riddle still lodged in his mind like a splinter he couldn't pull out. "Hell, I'm a vault...never spilled a damn thing...even when I'm supposed to."
Garrick scoffed, giving Aric a sideways look, his horse snorting calmly under him. "Yeah, right...you don't follow orders worth shit, so why'd he trust you to keep your trap shut? Keeping secrets count as orders too, genius."
Edrik chuckled lightly, but there was a hint of trust in him, holding firm despite Garrick's jab. "He can be trusted," he said, eyes ahead on the path where Dunmore's dome could be seen through the trees.
Aric smiled, leaning forward and tapping Edrik's shoulder. "See? Edrik's got my back...what did you see?"
Edrik exhaled, the memory churning within him. "We were on watch duty...caught the light signals from those at the South but before we could react, we spotted someone leaving the dome...probably using an Eldra amulet. He knew the blind spots from the wall, moved like he'd mapped it. The only thing on him was a bag."
Garrick let a low whistle before laughing, his grip on the reins firm. "Sounds like Aric's not the only suicidal bastard around...sneaking out unarmed into the West side of Yrengoth?"
Aric scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. He'd danced with death too often it became a routine. "I'm not suicidal, damn it...just good at cheating death."
Edrik nodded slow, his mind still plunged into that night's scenario despite the verbal exchange between Aric and Garrick. "Too odd...his movement was calm, confident and calculated, like he had eyes on the wall. Knew the perfect blindspot."
Garrick's eyes narrowed, sucking air through his teeth, reins steady in his grip. "A weirder hunch...it was timed near perfect with the Widowmakers hitting us. Like he knew we'd be tied up with that but didn't count on your squad spotting him."
Edrik glanced at Garrick, confusion worn on his face. "Are you saying the Widowmaker attack was planned?"
Aric cut in, his breath warm against Edrik's neck as the horse swayed. "It had to be...Widowmakers don't strike this early, not without a reason we can't pin. It looks orchestrated as hell."
Garrick shrugged with a grunt, eyes fixed ahead. "Ronan said they came from the settlement...something definitely dragged those bastards out of their burrows all the way to our doorstep. Whatever it was, it was intended."
The trees sparsed as Dunmore's dome came into view, its translucent surface pulsing faintly in the dusk. Edrik yanked the reins, halting, his mind already flashing to Selenna. "I'll head to the settlement...ask Selenna what went down before the attack, dig for clues. You two hit the barracks."
Garrick shook his head, pulling the reins as he urged his horse closer, its hooves squelching in the muddy earth. "Nah...we all go together. The settlement is where the answers are."
Edrik nodded, relief easing the tightness in his chest...three heads surely beat one in this mess. "Alright...together, then."
They nudged the horses forward, the dome's hum growing louder as they approached it.
Garrick huffed heavily, his eyes on the Eldra amulet dangling at Aric's neck, its green stone glinting as it caught the last rays of daylight. "One problem though...will that trinket carry three men and two horses through?"