"I can't wait until Xenith wakes up, but..." He had another stop to make first. "Sorry Kendra, I've gotta go."

Aiden drew on the power of Midrath and appeared before Kyriall. The Immortal Father looked entirely unphased and continued reading from an ancient tome. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm not a fan of impossible tasks," Aiden stated and crossed his arms. "I went to challenge Xenith, but I was beaten to it.”

“Is that so?” Kyriall snapped the tome closed. “You have my undivided attention.”

“Does the name Hathronians ring any bells for you?” The immediate widening of Kyriall’s eyes was louder than words.

“Did they acquire Valhalla's Authority?!” Aiden had seen Kyriall angry, but this was a first. The Immortal Father looked scared.

"No, not yet." Kyriall's fear echoed inside of Aiden, but he kept as calm as possible. "Care to explain? Who are they? Why are they attacking Valhalla? And more importantly, how? How did they do that?"

Kyriall turned away from Aiden, one arm resting on the other and rubbing his chin. He perused several long bookcases, and Aiden finally took a look around. Instead of the room he'd appeared with when he came with the others, they were in a study of some sort. Books cluttered tabletops, tomes left abandoned, and disheveled half-written parchments lay strewn about from one table to another.

"That is an excellent question." The immortal pointed in one direction, and various writings flew from shelves to pile around him. as he continued to think, he walked and pointed in various directions throughout the labyrinthian library. All of the books arranged in the piles as they walked down to one end and back. When Kyriall stopped, he muttered an incantation in a language Aiden didn't recognize. Aiden only caught the last part. "Beholden unto me, thy inner wisdom and give me the eyes to see your secrets."

Had he not been able to understand, the spell's effects clued Aiden in to its purpose. Several sanguine clones of Kyriall rose up from the floor, a wet and squishy mess as they formed. Once their form solidified, they got to work. Each clone had a pile dedicated to them. They placed their hands over a piece of selected text, and the pages fluttered open. Quick and snappy.

Aiden's role in the whole thing simultaneously bored and awed him. Kyriall's abilities, even just as a record keeper and information analyst, would be a very beneficial addition to the ranks of Zion. Or rather, someone like Kyriall. If all of the runic knowledge they had stored in the compendium could be copied and distributed to a larger group, not only could they further advance the studies of what formations and runes did what and how, but they could also discover magical reactions outside of runic formulae.

As Oli said, the possibilities were endless, and having someone able to facilitate that growth, that change, that vision more efficiently, with Kyriall's level of skill? This display gave Aiden more respect for Old Lady Mabelline, the librarian, and all the scribes of ancient days.

“Hathronians, parasitic, magically inclined, highly aggressive. Initial evolution location, Chaos Realm—a forgotten realm encapsulated within the Void Realm.” Kyriall tutted with dissatisfaction. “Deep grudges innately instilled for those unworthy of the abundantly resourceful and stable mortal realms. Desire revenge and control of all things connected to the mortal realm.” Kyriall glanced at Aiden. “This sounds a lot like someone else I've encountered.”

“So what does that mean?” Aiden ignored the immortal’s verbal jab.

“You are, as your people put it… screwed.” Kyriall snapped his fingers, and all of the books snapped shut, rose from their messily discarded places, and floated back to where they'd been summoned from.

“You're kidding.”

“I don't make a habit of frivolously joking about the fate of the stable, free world.” Kyriall paused for a moment. “But this time, I happen to be.”

For a brief moment, Aiden wasn't sure what to think and almost attempted to flash freeze the immortal. Instead, he plunged his hands into his pockets and gripped Silver, comfortable with the thought of running the immortal through. "What does that mean?"

"You have Midrath, its authority, and an army. Fight back."

"That's... That's your great advice?" Freezing Kyriall sounded nicer by the second.

"You have Xenith, her Authority, and the entire backing of your planet, Earth. What seems to be the problem? They're only Hathronians."

Kyriall had to be delusional or ignorant. There couldn't be any in-between. "Tell me what the average Hathronian race grade is."

"I see the point you might be trying to make, however, you have strength in numbers and far too much space to worry about a total loss." Kyriall's eyes glinted knowingly, keen and sharp.

"Obviously numbers isn't going to stop this war without massive casualties, not that I think the people I have could even stop the Hathronian army. Their whole race, on average, is a whole grade higher, for Chris's sake!" Aiden hissed. "We might have Xenith back us, but even then, whoever it was that spearheaded the invasion into Valhalla took a magical nuke to the face without a scratch after he'd already beaten down Xenith and shackled her with her ten other commandos."

"You underestimate the advantage of home turf. Example," Kyriall waved a hand toward Aiden, and an itching flame started to tingle against Aiden's skin. The presence of a great weight pressed against Aiden's own, rebuffed by some invisible barrier, but still persistent. Kyriall dropped his hand, and the pressure disappeared. "What do you know of Authorities?"

"I have two."

"And what do you know about them?"

"That's it. That's all I know. Only that I have two."

"Have you not explored the power of the Authorities at all? Not delved into their concepts and preened apart the conceptual bindings leading to enlightenment and greater understanding of the very fabric of the worlds?" Upon seeing the blank look on Aiden's face, Kyriall scowled. "Nimwit. All that power, and for what? To be held as little more than a trophy?"

Aiden bristled, but he couldn't refute the points the immortal made. "When I first got both Authorities, I established my rulership and principles over Midrath and Earth. I've seen that Midrath's Authority as some kind of commanding element, like a compulsion of sorts. But outside of that, I'm clueless," Aiden said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Not like these things came with an instruction manual, you know?"

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"They didn't?" Kyriall started, genuinely puzzled. "Have you no Relic of Authority which guides the innate principles of the Authorities?'

"Re...lic?" As far as Aiden knew, he hadn't received such a thing. "Uh, should I?"

"Hmm." They both stared blankly at one another for a moment. Kyriall held up his left ring finger, and a fiery red band held a dark obsidian sphere, perfectly oval. "This is mine. As far as I'm aware, every Authority has a relic." He tapped the side of his jaw. "The armor you said this Hathronian wore may be a relic."

Aiden eyed the ring curiously, wondering what Halla's Authority might do for him once Blizzy finally evolved and succeeded Tiamat as the monster empress. Even more intriguing, the ring looked very magical, like it might boost his ability to cast magic. "What does the ring do?"

Kyriall wagged a finger in front of Aiden's face, far too close. "No. That's rude, improper, and not happening. If you want the secrets of the Authority's relic, be sure to make sure you take care of my daughter properly. Understood?"

Begrudgingly, Aiden nodded. He held back further questioning of the Immortal Father's prized possession and wondered what he would find for Earth when he returned. "You speak as if Midrath's Authority holds some higher value than others, and you haven't been the only one. I know it's the central connecting Authority to the other realms, but isn't that more like how glue functions? Holding things together?"

"And you think to do that the Authority wouldn't have to be stronger than the others to compel them into a functioning system?" Kyriall responded with a question of his own and shook his head. "Of course there are methods to differentiate such things."

"Then...?"

"Midrath's Authority has no equal," Kyriall slowly drawled, as if taking the time to consider what he would say next as he spoke. "This is why it's paramount its Ruler isn't a buffoon who overlooks the Authority's strengths and provided relic." Waving his hand, Kyriall dismissed Aiden. "I do believe our conversation is complete and you have some desperate scrambling to do. Give my daughter my loving regards. Make sure she knows I miss her dearly!"

Knowing a dismissal when he saw one, Aiden took the hint and teleported back from Kyriall's grand library to Zion's infirmary. Before he ran off to search for Midrath and Earth's authorities, he wanted to make sure Xenith and Leyla were on the mend. His gut told him they'd need every little bit of help they could get in the near future.

More than anything, he hoped he'd be wrong. However, looking down at Xenith, he didn't think he would be.

"How are you recovering?" he asked as Xenith laid her hollow eyes on exactly where he'd appeared.

"I... am not... and... will not." She turned her head away from Aiden and focused her empty stare on the bedside next to her, Leyla's.

Aiden knelt beside Xenith, his hopes for recruiting her to fight with Zion and defend Midrath against the Hathronians dashed before they'd even had a chance to fully take form. He took her hand in his. "I've heard many things about you. Your reputation as a great warrior preceded our meeting. I so looked forward to meeting you in battle."

"There is... a chance." Gently, she pulled her hand free of Aiden's and groaned as she removed herself from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Surely moving around was ill advised and would only cause her to die faster.

"As you say... I am... a warrior... first." With holes in her arms and legs, she pushed herself off the bed and stood. Sickly gold ichor dripped like thick tar with each step. Fully standing, she towered two heads over him. In the heat of their mad dash to escape, he hadn't paid much attention to how intimidating she could be and wondered how much more impressive Xenith would've been in her peak. "Come... with a blade..."

Aiden gave Leyla a sad look. "I hoped you both would have more of a chance to spend time together." But when he turned to follow Xenith and saw the set of her shoulders and the resignation of each step, he knew. Leyla would never again have the chance. "I am so very sorry."

He turned away from the sleeping Fallen he'd bonded to and left the infirmary behind Xenith.

Zion was scrambling to arms. Everywhere Aiden looked, people rushed with purpose to fulfill a task. As a man struggling to carry a barrel of weapons passed, Aiden snagged one of the longer blades and offered it to Valhalla's queen. In her hands, the blade looked little more than a shortsword.

"This... will suffice." Xenith hummed, and another unknown magic hummed back. Before he could protest, she ran the blade across her wrist and dripped the sickly ichor across its length. The engraved runes lit up like a Christmas Tree, and the sword buzzed with a violent, zealous hum. "I now... am ready."

"What was that?" Aiden asked. He'd seen a lot of different ways to modify weapons and even theorized over many methods with Isaac, but what Xenith did? He wanted to know.

"Blood... is power. It remembers." When she gave the blade a couple test swings, the imbued power cut through the air. Each time, a rush of wind blew past to fill the now empty space.

As with anything mystical, the explanation only left Aiden with even more questions. "Okay then. Be all cryptic."

They moved farther from the infirmary to the sparring pit. The place had changed since the first days of digging lines in the dirt to use as a box. Xenith slowly lumbered forward and, even now, held herself with dignity. No matter the horrid things she may have done, the decisions that impacted countless, she was still a queen.

At the center of the ring, they stood across from one another. "My strength... What is left... Let me... show you."

Dread spiked through Aiden, and Silver manifested in its sword form in front of him before he knew he was moving. Xenith's attach clashed against his defense as light as a feather. She kicked forward and planted her foot square in his chest.

She's too fast! Aiden pulled on his magic to catch himself.

"No!" Xenith growled, and the ice shattered. "We fight... so you learn. Pay. Attention."

Her blade blurred, and Aiden didn't know how much he could learn from someone who moved faster than he could see and only focused on staying alive. Her blade shifted, slow then fast, clashed against Silver time and again.

How is she this fast? And this is her weakened? Despite her skill, she lagged after each attack. Once he got over the initial surprise of her speedy bursts and learned the attacks she continued to repeat, he began to adapt. He didn't overcommit himself to blocking a feint and stopped the true attack aimed for his throat.

He fell into the spar against her and learned each move, each counter, each thing she guided him toward. His body learned and remembered, even if his mind struggled to figure out just exactly what was happening and for what reason. When she no longer added more attacks after he learned to block safely and read through feints, he understood.

In the brief moments after reading the fake attack and defending the real, a window of opportunity appeared for him to push back. And he struck. He could almost see the relief on his face as she slowed, carefully blocking his attack and returning one of her own and falling back into the same pattern as before.

She threw the feint, and he prepared to block the following attack. But the feint never came and the attack followed through, throwing off his internal rhythm. Gritting his teeth as her blade cut him lightly on his shoulder near his neck, her mercy allowing him to keep his life when a true enemy would've slain him then and there, he redoubled his focus and jumped back into the back and forth.

Xenith slowed, yet her strikes carried no less power or accuracy, a testament to her incredible skill. Even as she slowed, he struggled to capitalize on the openings left. He didn't doubt they were left intentionally and kept trying to find ways to weave additional attacks in.

"You understand... what you must... to win. Grant... my rest. Use... everything." The rasp in her words worsened, and he could almost hear her drowning on the blood in her lungs. She had shown him something, even if he didn't know what yet, and requested an honor duel to her death.

"Forgive me, but I must ask first of Valhalla's relic." Aiden took a deep breath and wished to have more time with her. For his sake as much as Leyla's. To have an instructor to spar with, to teach him greater sword skills...

"Not within... my possession." The pain in her empty eye sockets and regret in her voice told him all he needed to know. The shame and way her shoulders sagged in defeat said more than words could.

"Can you at least tell me what the relic is?" Maybe if he had an idea of what he'd be facing when dealing with the Hathronian leader he could better prepare. Another thought occurred, and he wasn't sure he'd get the answer from anyone else. "Can others use the Authority relics without the Authority?"

Her only response was to hold up the blade in front of her, her whole body poised against him. Aiden felt as if she could directly see him, as if the weight of her presence bore down on him. It said, "You will not escape this, and I see you. Raise your sword and prepare to die."

“Then so be it.”