NOVEL NEXT EPISODE 237: LAMBS & WOLVES
EPISODE 237: LAMBS & WOLVES
— GREAT EDRYAN, YEAR 7294. SEASON: CENTRAL.
Amaya silently glanced around. She was nervous, greatly so. Not because she faced members of countries beyond Edryan, but for her role in facilitating a future state.
The words and guidance of Minerva floated at the forefront of her brain. A reminder of her growing responsibility and more. A responsibility placed on her by the Queen, her sister, and many others. A responsibility that she was born for. She was the [Hero]. Amaya was the one who understood Lawruthian the best out of the New Greats, and she was the one who stepped forward.
Amaya's actions, words, everything… it would have real consequences. She was in charge and could decide the faith— fate —of millions, perhaps billions of individuals. It was… daunting.
It was exhilarating.
Amaya Musa glanced around coolly. The nervousness she held greatly reduced in that moment. She held a responsibility to Great Edryan, a trust from Minerva and Lawruthian, and a desire to walk a path of greatness like her elder sister. Amaya didn't know how she was going to accomplish it. But, Goddess Willing, she would.
Goddess Willing.
She mimicked Lawruthian, although it wasn't hard, as several skills had been cast on her in preparation. A majority of them were mental skills, enhancing her thought process and calming her nerves. Others factored in any manipulation that may come from the parties involved. Regardless, the demigods and Prestiges of Edryan watched. Their ranks increased from the initial seven to nearly a dozen in the span of two years. Those numbers were impressive, but Amaya now understood that they were a far cry from what the average nation outside of Edryan held.
Amaya's indifferent gaze traveled across the thirteen present. She smiled, already hearing the grumblings of the Machan as Minerva and several others predicted. It was clear the Machans weren't hesitant to play the role of a belligerent force looking for chinks in the Edryan State's armor. And, it seemed their focus was on the nation's heart… it's Chosen.
Amaya understood it very well, as did all their diplomats, generals, and other personnel involved in setting up this event. Her gaze turned mocking as the voice of the Machan spoke; two of four fists slammed down in an attempt to break the table.
It was starting. Nearly exactly as Minerva and her sister said it would. Amaya silently recounted the events that would go as they played out.
'First, the Machan would make a show of disrespect, calling for the Chosen of Madris to present themselves.'
"How dare you! Is this [Chosen of Madris] of yours fearful to the extent it cannot arrive in person? I'm beginning to believe this Chosen is a lie—a made-up story you magi fabricated in hopes of buying time before those of Elrunian come for their revenge."
Amaya hadn't even spoken a word of welcome before they began. She swallowed, preparing to speak half-truths and lies. A mix of deception, force, and more needed to be at play. Great Edryan's reemergence into the world's stage was an event that needed careful preparation, but also the right amount of intimidation. Today's enemies could turn into tomorrow's friends as the nation of Edryan began its conquest of the world.
The thought… excited her, and her mocking smile grew wider as she responded.
"Are you worthy of Him ?"
'Second, display a show of force—of half-truths and lies. For it is true, Moona Gamal and others have pledged their faith to Him, but it is false, his true level of strength has yet to reach such heights.'
It was the same strategy employed by Lawruthian to ensure the Class-Based Constitutional Monarchy came into being.
Shock, and then…?
Awe.
The room immediately shifted from her word choice. Prestige escort or not, the change in behavior and atmosphere was noticeable. Whispers entered Amaya's ears, causing her mocking smile to grow increasingly wider.
Whispers of impossibilities and whatnots. Whispers of what-ifs and how comes.
'Third, the Asigbonle people will speak—their position on the continent is the worst due to geographical location and position. To trade with anyone, they must pass through the Edryan seas. They want to appear far but never completely distance themselves, to which they have no choice but an all-out fight against Edryan. Every citizen of Edryan has the potential to turn soldier and wield magic. Perhaps one in one hundred, if not one in one thousand, have the opportunity to wield magic outside of our lands. In some cases, like the Machan, it's even worse.'
"Hmph, words are only words," Ninjaro spoke, his voice cutting through the murmurs and helping to dispose of the grandeur of Amaya's statement. "How silly of you to believe such things without proof."
The eyes turned toward him; some regained their composure, others held thoughtful expressions.
"I'm starting to believe those left in charge as the Path of Apotheosis open will be lambs left for the slaughter."
Amaya nearly chuckled, but that would have ruined the atmosphere she was attempting to build. Behind her were the members of the New Greats, Lawruthian's Generals, and many more figures of importance, such as the [Prime Overseer]. They were a show of support and a show of force.
'Fourth, Alaric will speak, directly targeting me, further derailing the conversation from what it is supposed to be today.'
"Oh, what a show," Alaric's deep voice rumbled. "Amaya, my dear, you do not need to worry, offer yourself to me, and the Waldleute — the People of the Forest, will ally with Edryan. Resist…"
'Fifth…'
'Sixth…'
'Seventh…'
Amaya could go on and on, detailing each play that would happen and more, but unfortunately… for them… and, fortunately for her… the egg was hatching. A secret so deep that Amaya and the rest hadn't found out until the week of the event. The words of Queen Titiana were the final thing that passed through her mind before the world changed.
" On the Fourth Day, on the Fourth Hour past noon, He will awaken. Delay events until then. For my son… my child… will walk on a Path no others have tread before. "
The Demigoddess of Love hadn't left the side of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. more than thrice. For two years, not only had the [Chosen of Madris] disappeared, but so had the Demigoddess of Love, Queen Titiana. Day and night, she watched over her child, protecting him, awaiting his awakening. Day and night, she watched the changes. Skin rippling, scales emerging, then disappearing. A strange horn emerged, then a second shorter. But… those prominent features never changed.
Day and night she waited, unsleeping for that was beneath her now. Days cycled into weeks and nights into months. Both figures within slowly changed, their blood intermingled, entwined like the branches of two trees. And, when she looked deeper, the pink of her domain intertwined itself more deeply between the two—just another side effect of her growing prowess with her Law and expanded reach due to her Pantheon.
Amaya turned to the Machan, Erin. Her voice mocked him as she spoke, and it recaptured the attention of the diverging meeting. She held a pocket watch in her hand, and the time read exactly four hours past noon.
" He. Is. Here."
The sky, once clear and sparse with clouds as Central arrived, darkened. Lightning cackled, a laugh like that of a witch over her caldron. Hesitant drops fell, their march downward slow. The storm spread, magic fueled it as it covered Edrya in seconds, forcing the entire city to be blanketed in darkness. Not even the streetlights could suppress its power.
The storm hovered, as if waiting for permission for something. A moment passed, then another, and another. Fourteen figures sat around a table, once their voices raised as some played and mocked the Edryan event. Others sat in silence, observing the situation and planning for the future. Their Prestige protectors stood, shock on their faces as they glanced at the air.
The Gods watched.
The storm, seemingly found what it was looking for, spread—East, South, North, and West. It spread itself over Edryan, covering the sky in seconds.
Madris laughed.
Many citizens hurried themselves inside, their psyches marred by the sudden darkness. The sun's light could not make it through.
In Elysium, Quinarax Indrius, father of Wilarax, opened his eyes. Golden brilliance flashed through them. They hesitated, glancing toward the silent city—a place where the sun's rays rarely entered. Then, that same light glanced at the region the Edryan lands covered, directly transmitting the information to the Demigod of the Sun's mind. He could not see his daughter anymore. Not while the sun's rays were blocked. He looked up, far, far past the blue sky, past the starry mirage, and into the lands beyond.
Twelve Thrones, Some Jade, Others… Bone.
Twelve figures sat and watched. One noticed his gaze and nodded in reassurance.
Quinarax relaxed.
In Roma, Izon Jhan wrote—a feathered quill continuously produced ink as it touched the paper. His face was mired with concern as he could not understand why his arrangements were changing now. Something powerful interacted with the world, halting his Perk. He wrote: On the Fourth Day, on the Fourth Hour past noon, the sky above Edryan will change. A storm will emerge, its eye over Edrya, the capital city. It spread like a network, roaming wide and far until the entire country was covered.
The quill bled, screaming as it wrote faster and faster. His writing was growing faster and faster, seemingly racing the events as they happened in hopes of beating them to some end goal.
In Medina, the capital of the Az'Dawn Empire, in a silent and dark hall… aubrey colored eyes opened. Tinted by madness, they looked south for a new answer to their problem. Zerxus Illumindom Az'Dawn — Heavenly Father… was hungry. A gnawing… endless hunger that clawed at his insides in an attempt to escape. It was gluttonous, envious, wrathful, and more. Its pride could not be halted, its lust insatiable, and its greed as vast as the sky and seas. The only thing that held it back was its sloth for action, for change. Change meant its current state would shift, and the balance that Zerxus built would end. So… It waited. He… waited.
In Iveri, a demigoddess watched. A Demigoddess of Purity—scars riddling her arms as trophies and reminders. A hate burned within her, silent, unreleased, and deadly. It was an infectious hatred, one Demigoddess Innai could never let go, no matter the words of Wilarax or any other. It burned with the desire to be released and called for justice, to inflict the same hurt and pain on a people who no longer remembered their Sins.
It HATED . It HATES. IT… HATES .
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IT HATES THEM ALL. IT HATES, IT HATES, IT HATES!
[HEROES]!
SHE HATES THEM.
In Ja'Forr, the moving city-state paused in its constant shift to better pastures. The gnomes operating it relaxed, knowing they would have a great day off. Fathers would see mothers and mothers children. Some would sit in churches speaking of their creator—the true Creator , [Realm Lord] Elrunian. Others would rave about the latest shows and who their favorite character was from it. In the highest building and tallest skyscraper, a male gnome lay. A pious expression of devotion was on his face.
" Oh Highest of Highs and Greatest of Greats, I offer my all to you. My faith, my body, my people, my sol. A vessel arises, one that is far better than the talentless scum infecting this fragmented piece of your greatest work of art. Please allow us time to capture and prepare it for you. "
The gnome's body was completely flat in a position of submission. Only his head barely touched the ground; his eyes flickered back and forth in madness. Silence pervaded the hall, and finally, the gnome, demigod rose. But not before a wind appeared from the void and ruffled his hair.
" Thank you, Lord, " he said, bowing at a ninety-degree angle. " Your Will…, it shall be done. "
The storm swirled, Edrya at its center, slowly becoming its eye. Outside of the city, the wind howled, twisters spun, and lightning struck as if the country itself faced a tribulation.
In the War Throne Palace, in a secret hall in its most protected depths… red-gold eyes opened. Then, brown-golden eyes followed. Intimately entwined hands let go, and under the happy gaze of a mother, a figure vanished. Moments later, another followed.
An expression of disbelief appeared on the face of Snake-Eye. One that Ìmólè had never seen before. His head turned, as did others, and they looked towards the window. Ìmólè wasn't the first to stand, but she was the first to walk onto the hall's balcony and outside into the storm.
Scattered drops of rain pelted her, rolling from her garments as they could not penetrate them and wet her. Snake-Eye stood next to her, as did many others who came to this event hosted by Edryan. Ìmólè looked at the faces of the Prestiges who escorted them, noting their expressions of disbelief and hints of… was it fear? Ìmólè wasn't certain, and that… that scared her.
Lightning flashed, its backdrop outlining a figure at the storm's center. It flashed again, and a second figure appeared right underneath the first.
"Heh, ha-ha-ha," a laugh resonated, spreading over the city in joyous waves.
The lightning flickered and gathered in response, seemingly angry at the laughter of the figure beneath it.
"I am free…" the voice said. "Free from Her ."
'This man has to die,' the thought flashed through the mind of Ìmólè. 'If not my brother…'
If one looked closely around and if they could enter the thoughts of the youths below, the next leaders of the realm, then perhaps they would see the same kind of thoughts flickering across their minds.
The lightning surged, striking against the figures in the sky above. One masculine, wings aflame with the ten primary elements. The other, feminine, seemed to radiate endless life.
The man grabbed the woman's hand, and together they rose to face the first yellow strike, fending against it with nothing but their physical bodies.
"Heh, ha-ha-ha," he laughed again. A laugh that spoke of an exhilarating freedom. The type that all longed for but few barely achieved. "Not enough, that barely tickles!"
The sky, enraged, sent a second bolt closely followed by a third. The second bolt was massive, descending as a beam of cyan light rather than a bolt of lightning.
The hairs on Amaya's arms raised, and her gaze flickered with excitement watching both the male and female figures. They seemed unworried as the lightning descended, untroubled by its powerful force.
The bolt hit, forcing the disappearance of the two figures. And, the rumble of thunder that followed was explosive. Windows shattered and glass spread, but none touched even the helm of Ìmólè's dress. A protective barrier radiated around them, and eyes flickered to the Demigoddess of Spell-Crafting in acknowledgement. Her eyes, however, were solely focused on the storm watching in fascination.
'…has to die. He has to die.'
The two figures appeared once again. Their bodies were still unmarred by the powerful attack.
The world attacked them, and the figures below watched.
The world attacked them, and the figures below pondered.
The world attacked them, and the figures below plotted.
The third strike emerged, a bulbous tumor that forced its way out of the clouds' depths. It… SCREAMED , a sound of frustration and rage. It was a sound of desperation and strangely… hope? No, for how could that be? The world could not hope. Rain fell like tears, and the wind howled in support. The weather crashed against the translucent magenta barrier. But, there was no sign of it breaking through the demigoddess's power.
The third bolt forced its way down, its tip sharp like a sword, its light a deep purple. Chaos red outlined its edges, branches spreading across Edryan, unable to be contained fully in the third bolt's attack. The people prayed, some silent, some loud, uncertain of what they did to upset the Goddess and Her Pantheon of Imperius. Fathers clutched mothers and mothers' children. The figures in the sky rose to meet the powerful bolt.
In the air, unbeknownst to the figures watching below, a sword that reflected the light of stars appeared in the masculine figure's hand. Dark scales covered this figure, and two horns rose from his head, one long and slightly curved, the other short, just past the stage it'd be considered a nub.
The man pointed the sword, meeting the lightning bolt head-on, sword point to sword point. A metallic clash was heard, but the laughter of the figure battling the sky was louder.
"Heh, ha-ha-ha," he laughed. A laugh that resonated as vast as the storm above.
The fathers, who clutched mothers, and mothers who clutched children, heard it, heard that laugh. They paused, uncertain whether it was a hallucination or real.
"Heh, ha-ha-ha," he laughed again. This time stronger, more pronounced as he grasped their hearts, their sols !
He commanded them to rise. And, rise they did. He tugged at their faith, and willingly they gave. Their hearts as one, their thoughts together, together .
An apparition appeared, imposing itself around the two figures in the sky. The masculine one clutched the feminine one in his arms. Although he was the one who fought against the strikes, the lightning targeted both.
The apparition was constructed of faith, wore armor like a sanctified guardian, and fought against the lightning with the two.
Snake-Eye's left hand twitched, and Caimen Lordstar appeared next to him, but his eyes remained focused on the sky. Others who had similar movements laughed silently as more and more figures of the magi beyond mortality appeared—twelve in total. An unspoken agreement before the outside forces finally settled. The true number of Path Walkers confirmed.
Edrya, facing danger, activated the city's protective barriers. A pink light emerged from deep within the castle, touching every citizen, boosting their confidence, their love. Then, it gathered back in the center just below the figures who continued to ascend in the sky, battling lightning.
Together, together, families left their homes and walked outside, arms reaching upward, prayers given, and faith true.
Together, together, the fourteen states watched, eyes joined by the Gods Above and Titans Below.
Together, together, two figures fought. They fought lightning, they fought the sky, faith of the people their armor, while their strengthened sols served as their weapon.
A metallic break was heard, and sparks fell from the sky as its blade was broken. The third-before-last strike was thwarted. The broken blade seemed to be absorbed by the figures while its remaining half withdrew into the sky, its power gathered for one final confrontation.
The barrier around Edryan strengthened, unbeknownst whether it was intended to keep something out, or in, and prevent any interference with the events unfolding.
The clouds, once spread throughout the entirety of Edryan, Great Edryan, condensed. The Power of the storm above Edrya, City of Heroes, multiplied.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The storm condensed until nothing but Edrya was covered in darkness. The red of sunset surrounded the city.
" He. Is. Here."
That thought whispered its way into the heads of the fourteen country representatives.
" He. Is. Here."
Even if those words weren't uttered before this started, by now, they would have guessed who arrived.
" He. Is. Here."
The fourth and final bolt descended.
Three meant a finality in Edryan lands and four ?
Four meant a rebirth as defined by their [Chosen of Madris].
A figure seemed to claw its way out of the clouds, red, like dragon. Sharp, shark-like teeth on display as it spewed the final bolt.
Red light enveloped everything, blinding mortals and forcing them to turn away. Ìmólè's eyes were forced closed. Ninjaro turned away. Erin squinted stubbornly, his elder's hand gently knocking him and forcing them closed. Amaya's eyes closed, but the smile on her face seemed endless. Alaric silently mused, his eyes closed, a chin on his hand as he pondered.
The people of Edrya closed their eyes, but their hands reached ever higher, toward the figure who flew central above the city.
A bolt, like the flames of dragon fire, descended from the sky—majestic, awe-inspiring, and certain to bring doom to any in its path.
Two figures floated, an apparition surrounding them. Its hue was golden-brown, but it was visibly changing into a purple-gold. Its armor was scales, its helm fanged. It bore no shield, nor did it need one. It held one weapon.
A knight sent on a quest to slay a dragon. A tale as old as time.
The flames descended, and the figure ascended. The words of Amaya Musa left in their wake.
" That, is our [Chosen of Madris]."
"Heh, ha-ha-ha."
End of Part 12