Tread Lightly

I watch in grim silence as the petite translucent hand grips the ancient gate at the bottom of the abyssal hole. The entire landscape seems to shudder at the touch of these frigid fingers, frost spreading like an infection across the stone. I can hear the crinkle of the cold growing with each inch it consumes. The hand tightens, squeezing the iron bars of the gate with a sound like glaciers cracking, echoing up the chasm's walls. The air is so cold now that it stings my lungs with every breath.

The temperature of the Frozen Wastes dips below its eternal freezing point. I can feel it sink to a dangerous level for any mortal, no matter how much preparation they have. But the sheer appearance of this being is far from being over.

A physical chill runs down my spine as the hand pulls, opening the gate to its limit with an agonizing groan that reverberates through the earth. I can see the Gate of Death resist, but it doesn't matter.

The God forces their way through, ignoring any of Death's preparations.

Every Nahullo warrior near me falls silent, their warcries caught in their throats as what is unfolding grips us all. From the darkness of the underworld, she emerges—the Goddess of Winter, of Snow, and Famine. Flint's body is draped in a tattered gown of ice, her hair a cascade of frozen tendrils, and her eyes... they are as empty as the void, a cold and pitiless blue that cuts through the shadows.

The pupilless eyes are only blue, but I can sense the light rising up from the emptiness as her gaze locks directly upon mine.

The ground beneath her begins to turn entirely into ice, beyond simple frost, as she crawls her way up from the depths, her long limbs stretching out like skeletal branches. The frost spreads in a burst, snapping through the weak Motherbound gathered at the bottom, turning them into grotesque ice sculptures. Their screams are silenced instantly, their bodies frozen in various contorted shapes—jaws agape, limbs twisted, and eyes locked wide in surprise from the sudden eternal winter.

Simultaneously, her figure floats on the currents of icy wind that lift her effortlessly up the chasm. As she rises, the chill emanating from her body is palpable, spreading outwards with terrifying speed that increases with every inch it covers.

As such, the frost doesn't stop with the lower creatures; it races up the chasm's walls, climbing like a living thing, a ruthless force with no regard for anything in its path. I can hear the harsh gasps of the Nahullo behind me, their fear palpable as they watch the frost's rapid ascent. Some start to back away, the crunch of their boots against the frozen ground the only sound amidst the encroaching silence.

These people have known winter their whole lives. They have survived within the most frigid climates on the planet, existing off the bare minimum and managing to thrive. They know winter.

But they do not know Winter.

The Goddess hauls herself into the air higher and higher, her icy winds carrying her aloft with her eyes frozen onto me. It's as if she's reclaiming her dominion, challenging me to do something about it. The coldness radiates from her, spreading across the cityscape, turning buildings into icy sculptures and streets into sheets of slick, unforgiving ice.

With just my peripherals, I can see hundreds of Nahullo transform into the identical sculptures of ice that the Motherbound shifted into. Every single person beneath the Angelic or without a way to keep themselves absurdly warm dies within just a few moments of her arrival.

Screams are cut short by the cold entering their lungs, and the stampede of feet tells me all I need to know. Many are running, yet I still sense most of the Councilmembers.

The Warmaster trains his men well. It is just... this is no fight for them.

I feel Primrose's presence not too far away, and without shifting my head from Flint's frozen exterior, I let the people know all they need to.

"RUN! JUST RUN!"

The Goddess of Winter's smile twists eerily on her face, creaking with the sound of a breaking lake of ice. She hovers toward me with her ice while Blodwyn pushes blood through our body with Blood Nexus, using the heat from the skill to keep us alive.

Steam emerges from every pore of my skin as the chill in the air meets my warmth. Still, despite being surrounded by the elements, I don't retreat.

We have killed a God before. I... I can do it again.

"Wyatt Graves. We finally meet. When I heard Maxe died, I was surprised. A human? A mere child? I see now. You are a dangerous little critter, aren't you?"

Flint's voice screeches through the frozen air while the only other sounds I can hear are the retreating lives behind me and Ytern's distant battle. Soon, however, those fade, and I only discern the swirling winds of artic famine.

The Goddess finally lands before me, pressing a shoeless foot of ice against the permafrost just a few steps away from me. This close, I finally notice how small she is. Flint is closer in stature to Lily than she is to a grown adult, and yet, she is the reason why the northern lands are so barren of life.

She holds my gaze for the moments I stare at her, allowing me time to move my Ether within my sluggish body. Even with Blodwyn's help, everything is near-glacial, including my Ether. Although I know she is doing the same, preparing to attack me with something, I don't know what, but it is the only reason she would be so quiet.

Still, there is nothing for me to reply to her with. We are enemies. And as such, we will fight.

Flint doesn't seem to agree with that sentiment, however. She steps to the side, looking over my shoulder with a tilted head to all that is behind me within the forming blizzard.

"Must you be so rude? I'm trying to have a conversation here. I'm not as nonverbal as Maxe. Even if I hate all you little critters, I'm still willing to talk, so why aren't you?"

Is she baiting me?

I don't know. Maybe not? Fuck it. I'll bite. What's the worst that can happen? As I open my mouth to speak, I force Painsforge into action and use several other skills to keep from turning into a see-through sculpture.

"What do you want to talk about?"

The Goddess walks around me, her steps slow and deliberate. It's like she's stalking prey, her famined body of ice creaking with each motion. Her gown of frost and rime flows behind her, a constant whisper of cold as it drags across the ground. She circles me, her blue eyes watching my every move like a predator assessing its catch.

I hate the feeling, but as the cold creeps in, I continue building my Ether, preparing for another Bone Orchard and tossing dozens of Arbalests throughout my body. All the while, I struggle to keep it within my flesh and from exploding uncontrollably.

"Do you know what this world was like before you humans came along?"

Flint asks a pointed question, her voice low and chilling, carrying a tone that speaks of ancient memories and lost ages. I stay silent, knowing that interrupting her might provoke a more hostile response as she has not yet closed her mouth. She continues, her voice gaining a subtle edge of bitterness.

"Before your kind crawled out of the muck, there was balance. The earth thrived in its beauty, untouched by your greed and your endless hunger for more. And I don't just mean you humans—all of you intelligent life. None of you should ever exist. You've ruined it all and will only continue to do so. Mother... she will not let such things happen."

I try to keep my focus, watching her movements and listening carefully to her words. There's a dangerous poetry to her speech, an almost hypnotic quality that seems to chill the air even further. Still, I watch for a hint of weakness or a moment of hostility not to be caught off guard.

"Winter was pure. Spring was pure. Summer was pure. Autumn was pure. There was a time when the seasons obeyed their natural order, and the world knew when to rest when to sleep beneath the blanket of snow or the heat of the sun."

She stops directly in front of me, her icy eyes locking onto mine. I feel a shiver run down my spine, not just from the cold but from the intensity of her gaze. Blodwyn and I tighten our Ether and limbs, preparing to make a move.

"And then you came."

Flint says, her voice dropping to a whisper. The whisper is followed by a wisp of frost lining her blue-tinted mouth.

"You brought warmth, you brought fire, you brought war, and you disrupted everything. You broke the balance. You shattered the ancient cycles. You mutts should never have learned to grasp Ether. And now, here I am because your kind cannot leave well enough alone. Even if Mother were not on my side, I'd return you all to frost on my own."

I listen, the weight of her words pressing against me like the chill of the frost. I know there's truth in what she says. War was never something that existed before demons, humans, and all the other races.

She misses the peace, I'm sure. Before a single man could Shatter The Sky, a single man could devour endlessly, and before a single one could become immortal.

But Flint has still chosen wrong.

"And so you follow Her? Does she not only spread war throughout the stars?"

The Goddess of Winter shakes her head, annoyed by my assumption. She waves her arms upward toward the skies hidden by her blizzard.

"Of course not! She preaches love and family! Do you... not know what she is the God of? How many lies have you heard, young one? Usen, the Allmother of Desire, the Harbinger of Love. She is the supreme Goddess of Love. The 'Darklight' you so desperately hate is nothing but her love. Throughout the cosmos... you alone are the planet embroiled in war. This place... this planet... is the first pocket of resistance she's ever met."

I want to call bullshit on what she says... but with all I have heard over the course of my... extensive battles with Motherbound, I think she might just be telling the truth. Is... is it really not corruption?

No. It still is. Her 'Love' is just another type of overwhelming might from a God. Resistance to most, even other Gods, is pointless. She might be a God of Love, seeking to unite everything, but... I don't like how she does it. And I'd have to say my predecessors agree. Furthermore, something deep inside my core rails against such a kind of control.

The Philosopher roars for freedom above all.

"What about what it does to you? Darklight corrodes the mind, mutates the body, and alters the soul."

Flint's dress flaps slightly with the howling winds, a symphony under her voice. The shrill laugh that escapes her at my own expense is painful to hear, even with all my physical enhancements.

"To some, yes, what She does would count as corrosion. But Mother improves. She builds atop of, ridding the bad. Do you know the end of... every other planet with intelligent life without her influence?"

I shake my head as Flint returns to me with a nod. She raises a hand, clenching it closed before opening it to reveal an orb, one intricately created with continents and running oceans atop it.

"The races within them, even if they are all of one kind, war endlessly. They scheme, they fight, and they grow through that struggle. Evolution is... disgusting. The scars build up on the planet and its people. Eventually, however, the might of a planet outweighs its capacity. And... they destroy themselves, sending whatever remains into lives not worth living for mice."

To elucidate her point, I watch as the surface of the orb is riddled with wars. Time continues to pass bit by bit, and less of the planet becomes habitable until, eventually, none of it is. All those who live scurry around, fighting for just a single day, not enjoying or loving a second of their miserable existence.

"All planets have their own Gods. Though, there can only be one God of each Concept, many share similar Gods. These Gods do what they can, sometimes helping, sometimes fighting the mortals, and in the end... beings like you always emerge—the Voyagers. Monsters who destroy their worlds and escape to new ones once there is nothing left."

A chill runs through my soul as I recall the word, only once used ever before. When Remington first emerged from the Sandy River. He called me a Voyager. That is it.

That was his mistake, huh? One little slip of the tongue. Is that what first tipped me off? Some hidden part of my mind? Had I known what they were... he shouldn't know. Only She would.

Flint's pupilless eyes run over my body before she stops moving, three concentric lines of footsteps surrounding me, each slightly closer than the last. With raised hand, she reaches for me, and I prepare to strike, frantically searching for a weakness before she lightly taps my chin from below with her smaller figure.

"Tell me, child, are you one of them? A Voyager? Will you ruin this planet just like all the others? Because... Mother has made it so you will be alone. All Voyagers are dead, ripped apart by her claws, as they can never understand love. Or... will you help us kill these Voyagers and protect this lovely world?"

For a fragile second, I consider her words. For just a teeny tiny moment. Then, my eyes refocus upon her sculpture-like form of ice. Her deadly might sings within my mind as I realize this is a final attempt.

They have realized I cannot be turned. So, instead, they are simply trying to convince me to help them. Am I really that important? Perhaps I'm not. Perhaps just having one on the inside would be enough to guarantee victory for the Mother Below.

After all, Groundswalkers and Two-Faces are impossible to use at the highest levels. They can get past weaker Sigileds, but Dominions such as I have too many ways to detect such trickery. Only a genuine turncoat would work.

Her argument is fairly good, too, after what I've seen. Between Vincent's Sirza, the Godly battle beneath, and my own Godslaying, I know the devastation Divine Sigileds can bestow onto the worlds they inhabit.

Voyagers, huh? What a simple name for something so terrible.

But it fits two people I know of so profoundly that I have no room to argue.

Vincent Harvey and Lennon Hull. They are two men who would ruin the world for power and move on to the next. Vincent might do so regrettably and only in failure, but he would do so nonetheless. Meanwhile, Lennon wouldn't feel an ounce of remorse. However, the latter would only do it if pushed into the act, while the former may do it by accident.

Still... While they need to be reined in at some point to prevent a cataclysm, I...

I prefer the monsters I know—the ones I know so well that I can predict their very next move. I can dance with monsters and men. Treading among them is something I know all too well.

Gods? That is something I am not so comfortable with.

Furthermore... allying with such a controlling being is against my very core. I hated Eli for how manipulative he was, and the Mother Below is worse in every aspect. Freedom, personal freedom, is far too important to me.

So, I meet Flint's azure orbs, grabbing her hand with mine. The frost immediately creeps up my flesh, but with a quick clench of my fist, it breaks off.

"I must decline your offer, Flint. I am my own man. And should my people's fate be to die, I would embrace it. To allow another to control my fate... my mind... and my soul... it would be to turn back on everything I've ever known."

The Goddess of Winter sighs, keeping her eyes on me. The long breath of cold wraps around me, almost lovingly, before starting to constrict my movements.

"How... predictable. Very well. I shall save you from yourself."