As the titanic form of Traxillian The Defiled strode across the black wasteland and clambered over the great rungs of The Separation Wall, higher and higher into the dark clouds, he began to transform. Massive clawed hands shifted into soft delicate wonders, still enormous, but nowhere near as deadly. His sharp scarred skull morphed into a pale globe with extending flowing golden hair the size of a wheat field. His body, a horrible mass of bloody spikes and rippling impossible muscles, warped into the curves and pale flesh of a Goddess.
As it happened every thirty days and nights, and in this instance, the naked horror of Traxillian The Defiled transformed into the divine beauty of Agea, The Sun Warden. Her golden visage emerged on the top of the Separation Wall. Her people, her creations, roared in exuberant euphoric worship. She didn’t dare turn around to look at The Desolation Fields. Her people came in the countless thousands. Crowds of people from all over Golden Bloom, the furtive wondrous continent she so lovingly crafted centuries before. Her body exuded creation as she floated down from the wall, her gargantuan dress lifting and creating a soft plume of whispering air to cushion her descent. The crowd exploded in a glorious roar that shattered the summer air. Magical creation spewed from her body, new birds fluttering from her mouth, plants with watery sweet fruit burst from her bare feet in a sudden growth of vegetation as she landed in a crouch. Huge pack beasts and mewling pregnant companion animals poured out from her outstretched palms and ran away from the crowd, despite farmers and children chasing after them and laughing. She always made sure to create enough breeding pairs for the new beasts to become viable sustenance for her people.
Their roars of worship redoubled as she fell to her knees to embrace the thousands of children that always rushed to see her first. They poured over her titan body, scrambling up the glowing white fabric of her massive dress and she giggled as they laughed and whooped in play. They scrambled over her palms and she lifted scores of them up to her face. They hugged her cheeks and climbed up the twirling strands of her golden hair, thick like ropes, dancing and sliding across the waves of shiny slick curls.
“My children,” She whispered with true wonder, her mind reeling to avoid the horrible memories of Traxillian’s carnage these last thirty days. In his lair he had cages of people, children, to torture, kill, and eat. He made children especially for that purpose. She tried to refocus her mind to the present.
She looked out over the thousands of cheering people and her mask of a smile almost dropped completely away. Even after the eons of consistent shifting, the shock of the change in sheer desires, sheer ideology, always disturbed her. As Traxillian was to slaughter, she was to growth. His only joy was extracting pain, blood, and misery from his creations. For he, too, had creation, but he was warped, creating nightmare beasts and giving his own people horrific curses alongside terrible powers.
Agea was a kind Goddess. Her gifts were shards of her own power, one Active, the power only becoming real when the person manifested it, the other, Persistent, a constant wondrous talent. Hundreds of years ago she gifted the entire city of Bayvor on the shores of the Minerus Sea, a Persistent of breathing underwater and a wide variety of Actives that allowed them to traverse the sea that was their bounty. She enjoyed watching them flourish, she loved to see them live in her own image. Even now, each of them wore white robes with golden trim in reflection of her but with accented colors and beads that represented each of their homes.
She pushed the dark thoughts aside and gently lowered each and every child to the soft green grass. She took a titanic deep breath, and prepared the noble lie she told every month.
“My children,” She whispered directly into each of their minds, screaming certainly wouldn’t reach those that were at the back of the impossibly huge crowd. So she opted to tap into their minds, something she knew Traxillian chose not to do in order to make his hunts more interesting. She shuddered in a titanic wave.
“I have been fighting the terrors of The Desolation Fields these last thirty days. You know that I do not wish to leave you, but I must drive them back on this interval, I must stop them from pouring over The Separation Wall.”
The speech was nearly identical each time but each time her people roared back in their minds and with their voices, offering their praises for her bravery and hoping they could do more to help her. Her Goddess’ mind understood each of them as if they were the only person with her in the whole world. She continued reciting the well meaning, if vapid, words and her thoughts traveled elsewhere.
Despite the relative lack of conflicts in Golden Bloom there were still fighting men and women, prepared to assist their Goddess in the event that the “terrors” hidden behind the Separation Wall would invade their golden utopia. This, of course, was nonsense. The only thing behind that wall was unholy beasts, monsters, and people that were so desperate they were more focused on finding food than forming some kind of army. To satiate her people’s combat drive she let them run mock skirmish battles for the entertainment of the people and the purpose of “training”. She enchanted each of the participants so they couldn't take lethal wounds. They trained their Actives and their physical strength to defend the furtive glory of Golden Bloom, but the actual conflict they fantasized about would never come. Traxillian loved his control and his rage was safely contained in the wastes of The Desolation Fields. Their pact being broken would potentially cause the very nature of their shared identity to shatter. She could never fully invade his realm, never divulge the secret of her shared Godhood, never speak of the terrible suffering of the people across the wall, who were not unlike the crowd before her. But still, they cheered and praised her endlessly in a roar that would overwhelm a mortal. Her vast mind absorbed all the praise and her equally vast ego used it like a soothing ointment. These people, her people, had a perfect image of her in their mind. Their savior, creator, protector. And she was those things, as long as she fought back the memories. Not the memories She cried in her mind. She had to be closer, be amongst them.
In a flex of power it was so, she shrunk down to mortal size with a burst of will. Golden ropes weaved through her hair as it wrapped itself up in a tight braid. White gold rings and sparkling jewelry suddenly appeared on her fingers, her ears, her wrists. Her huge dress was replaced with a tight weaving toga of fine silks. And as she looked out at her people, who shrieked louder at a chance to touch their Goddess, she knew that they had never known strife. Not like before The Pact. Her people rushed over to her in a clamber of voices and laughter. They wore vibrant white robes accented with a gradient of wondrous color, each garment finely made by sewing masters with full bellies, warm beds, and unlimited time for creativity. The scent of wildflowers and sweaty bodies filled her.
“Oh Goddess,” A gorgeous woman in a blue head scarf shrieked.
A man with an air manipulation Active flew in a burst of speed holding a babe in his arms. He hovered above Agea, holding out his child with a huge grin on his wiry face.
“Kiss my child, Goddess!” He screamed.
She smiled and obliged. She felt the soft delicate flesh of the infant on her lips and her existential dread started to lift ever so gently. The man beamed as his pale robes fluttered around him.
“Thank you Goddess!” He wailed before flying away gripping his infant tight.
She pushed forward through the crowd, people grabbing at her hair, her clothes, her body. She closed her eyes and let their adoration wash over her. I am home, she thought only to herself.
She spent the full three days of The Festival of The Return partying and feasting with her people. She challenged big bellied brew masters to drinking competitions, she created customized bird species for a group of enthusiastic falconers, she giggled as she painted children's’ faces with golden runic symbols, she spoke of complex thought experiment battlefields and sparred with the men and women of the Coliseum, she went swimming in the warm green waters of Cyat lake, and above all else, she lived.
As the celebration ended she thanked each and every person who she interacted with personally in their minds and gifted each one of them with intricate personal praise. In the manifold complexities of her guilt, wonder, and power, she always found the gesture of genuinely gifted adoration to be a soothing exercise.
She traveled with a caravan of ruddy cheeked farmers and made her way back to the sprawling bronze towers of Sundew. They thanked her for everything they could see and everything they had, including the sun itself. She waved goodbye as they took their pack beasts and carts and trundled down the path towards their rural homes on the outskirts of Sundew. She was feeling fulfilled from the celebration and didn’t want the crowds of the city. Agea flicked her wrists and golden light exploded from her bracelets and enveloped her body. She burst upwards in a column of light and traversed over the sprawling streets of Sundew and straight to the courtyard of Zenith Palace. She appeared in a burst of light, and Zagrius almost bowled into her. He was carrying a stack of books that went over his head. They wobbled for a moment before toppling. In a blur of speed Agea snatched each book out of the air and held them in a perfectly stacked pile with one slender hand.
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“Sorry about that one Zagrius,” She said with a grin.
The small man grinned back, “Oh no need for that kind of talk, Goddess. How was the festival?”
“Oh the usual, drinking, screaming, dancing,” She said as they walked together towards the grand double doors that lead to the Sun Counsel's chambers. She flicked her hand not occupied by the perfect stack of books and the doors swung open. Her advisor glanced wantingly at the books as they walked up the stairs.
“I’ll give them back to you when we get to the chambers. Honestly Zagrius, with your Persistent, why do you read so much? If one other person within two hundred paces has read it, then so have you.”
“I may know what others know around me by default, but I need to keep my own skills keen. What would happen if I were all alone, without the natural knowledge of Brawn, without the fighting and tactical prowess of Lady Firewood, without Arguile’s solemn wisdom, what would I be?” Zagrius said.
“Well, you’d be you, Zagrius, and you’d do fine.” She said, flashing another brilliant white grin.
He flushed with the praise, before sheepishly speaking, “It has always bothered me, Goddess, why don’t I have access to your knowledge.”
His eyes were overcome with a scholar’s information craving fervor. They twinkled in the light piercing the stained glass windows in the hallway.
“To think of the sheer scale! Even if I could just know creation, not wield it, but know it. That would answer so many of my questions,” He continued with a smile.
“You don’t want my mind, Zagrius. If you could share my immortal knowledge like you do your mortal brethren, you would surely perish,” She said flatly.
“I see, Goddess,” Zagrius said, abruptly glancing away and clearing his throat.
They strode down the marble hallway to the carved wooden door to the Sun Council’s chamber. The carving depicted Agea, stood atop the Separation Wall, bravely holding a shield as countless tentacled horrors tried to scramble their way up and over. Golden Bloom was depicted as a shining idyllic world full of smiling people, furtive growth, and flowing rivers. The carving was beautiful. But it was a lie. It should show Agea becoming the terror from the other side. She pushed the door open, pushing the noble lie aside and out of her mind.
The remaining members of the Sun Council lounged and drank at the long oaken conference table. Brawn and Lady Firewood were flirting and feeding each other huge blue grapes. Arguile was stroking his wild beard wildly arguing with a clone of himself about the correct interpretation of an ancient philosopher. Satra sat quietly, a pipe extending from her almost completely obscuring headscarf. Zagrius sat and immediately started pouring over a geography text.
“Goddess! So kind of you to join your Council. Tell us, how was the debauchery?” Asked Brawn.
“You’d know what it was like if you’d come to see your people,” Agea said as she took her spot at the head of the table, pouring herself a goblet of wine.
“Oh come on Lightgiver, we’ve gone almost every month the past few years! And it's wonderful, don’t get me wrong. You must push them back on this interval and so on. You’ve done so pretty fucking well every month for centuries. I just wanted to spend some time with my sweet lady here,” And Brawn nuzzled into Lady Firewood's neck and kissed her.
Lady Firewood looked over smiling, “We missed you, Goddess.”
“I missed you all too,” Agea said, but she knew what was coming. It was dangerous and wild.
“Satra,” Agea said quickly,
“Yes, Lightgiver?” She replied in her rasp.
“In a week’s time could you gather a dozen of the greatest champions of the Coliseum?” Agea asked.
“Why, of course, but, for what?” Satra asked, and the others stopped what they were doing to listen.
Agea cleared her throat. She was about to do something risky, reckless, stupid. But she was worried about her control, the possibility that she could be discovered. Over the last few decades, some of her people began showing steady interest in the detailed truth of the Desolation Fields. She had regaled countless stories of the horrors, some of them true, based on her cursed memories from Traxillian. But her people, not those like Brawn, who are content to bask in pleasures and raise their animals and have no concern for the other side. But those with a warrior's heart, Satra and her champions, or a scholar’s insatiability, like Zagrius, would eventually demand to see it. It had happened before, people getting close to the truth. She knew Traxillian hardly gave any concern to her memories so there was little chance of retribution or even detection. Plus she had been working on an obscuring enchanted helmet in the Lightforge that would blur the line between the agreement of The Pact. A planned expedition over the Separation Wall could stop any curiosity about the Desolation Fields for generations to come if she played it right.
“I want to lead an exploration to an uncharted area of the Desolation Fields. An area where my powers are weakened.”
“What?!” Three Arguiles suddenly appeared at her side and shouted in unison, “Take mortals of Golden Bloom over the wall. Goddess are you insane? This is unprecedented! What of the hordes?!”
“And who are you speaking to, Arguile?!” Agea suddenly shouted, her eyes bursting into bright golden light.
His clones dissipated and the true Arguile sat in his seat, robes trembling with embarrassment and fear.
“Please, continue,” Zagrius said, leaning forward intently.
Agea prepared her fabrication, ready to lie in order to protect her people from the truth. But as she began to speak a creeping sensation in her double mind that she would find what she was describing if she crossed the wall slunk its way deep in her psyche.
“I was laying waste to the hordes, making my rounds, destroying the regularly regenerating hives of terrors and beasts, when I felt my powers begin to falter. I looked at the black horizon and there I could see it. An ominous black crystal the size of Zenith Palace’s main tower. It hovered there, exuding dark energy that seemed to drain my very essence. My goal, on this expedition, would be to destroy this crystal and maintain my ability to drive back the hordes. And I need the help of my champions, to assure victory.”
Her council just stared at her for a moment, before Zagrius asked, “Have you seen this crystal before?”
“Never,” She said, and in that moment she had a vision of maddening laughter and scraping bloody tools in a vast cavern.
“Who or what could have possibly created it? Something from before you forged the Separation Wall?” Brawn asked, stroking his stubble and sharp jaw.
“This is what I want to find out on the expedition. I do not like uncertainty. And the safety of my people is paramount. And so, I put my trust in you, my Sun Council, to aid me in this endeavor,” she said with a God’s finality.
“It will be done,” Satra said, and now Agea could see that the warrior was grinning madly from ear to ear.
After discussing with the council for a few more hours, Agea wanted to pour herself into her work at the Lightforge and she needed fresh air. She liked to walk instead of beam teleport on occasion; it kept her grounded, more aware of the realities of mortal existence. She walked the long pathway from Zenith Palace and out of the city, up the trail towards Basalt Mountain. The scent of wildflowers and blooming fruit trees filled the air. The white gold peaks were glinting as the sun began its descent towards setting. The striking natural beauty gave Agea a flash of ancient memory of being in the throes of creation. Striding in full titan form, mountains were forged from raw earth and her own sweat, golden rivers extending and carving into the land like her flowing golden hair, animals and people and all matters of life sprouting from her very pours. She yearned for those more primordial days, when all there was was her power. No complex relationships and lies and forced actions. But it was her world. And the importance of the survival and happiness of her people was paramount, even if they were fed lies to maintain it.
She was deep in thought, when the soft sound of shuffling steps rustled behind her. She turned to see a girl of not even eight years nervously approaching from a side path.
“My Light? Is that you?” She asked in a small voice.
“Yes, child?” She cooed
“I hoped I’d see you. I have a question.” The girl said, surprising Agea a bit.
“Here, follow me,” Agea said, taking the girl's hand.
They walked until the path cleared to a cliff face that overlooked the jeweled glory of Sundew alongside the golden rows of farmlands outside the city. They sat together at the edge of the cliff staring out over the natural beauty in quiet wonder.
“Now, what is your name?”
“Aris, Goddess,” The girl said, and Agea could tell something was bothering her intensely.
“What is it, Aris?” Agea asked, looking the child in the eyes.
“You see, I got my Persistent only a couple tendays ago, and I knew I had it because Daddy was telling Momma that he wasn’t at the mead hall and was working in the field. But I could tell he was fibbing. Then I could tell my big sister was lying about coming home right at sundown. It’s kinda handy, not having to guess if people are tricky,” The girl rambled.
Agea felt a cold sensation building inside her, “Yes, and?” She said quietly.
“I...I…. went to The Festival of The Return with my Persistent for the first time this year. And I wanted to ask you, why did you lie? At the wall I mean. Even In my head I could tell the words weren’t true.” Aris said, her voice shrinking.
Agea’s mind began to race and she regretted letting natural mutation through procreation develop her peoples’ gifts across the generations. It led to situations like this, random chance causing her control to slip on the noble lie. She couldn’t tell her the truth without risking The Pact and she couldn’t lie due to Aris’ Persistent. She simply stared at the girl, the idea of expunging her quickly becoming the only option.
“If you won’t tell me, I can use my Active on you, like I did Daddy,” Aris said, petulance slipping into her voice.
Agea could feel the surprising weight of this little girl's power, compelling her to tell the truth. Her fists clenched, lips quivering, the truth almost slipping out, and she marveled grimly at the strength of it. Even Zagrius couldn’t glimpse her mind and this child was exerting control over her. But it was all over now, the truth was slipping so the only option left was annihilation. Aris’ power was too great for this world of deception. Agea’s eyes burst with light and for a brief moment she saw fear in Aris’ eyes. But then the girl was gone, her tiny body morphed from bone and flesh to scattering golden sparks of light that flew away out over the cliff and disappeared into nothing. It was like an artist erasing a drawing in a notebook.
Agea sat silently for a moment, knowing that she would have to access the minds of this girl's friends, family, everyone she had known, and erase her memory from existence. She had expunged others in the past, but only a few, and this one, would haunt her for eternity. To speak the truth was to break The Pact. To break The Pact was to doom everyone in Golden Bloom to shattered annihilation. If Traxillian had free reign here, the carnage would be incomprehensible. To protect The Pact she would do anything, destroy anyone, as was her nature.