For a moment, the Forge Clasp Titan buckled and shook under the strain of lifting the unconscious Godknight. Enek’Chok noted Orion Fireforge’s pained reaction. He was so heavily invested in keeping up the appearance of competence that the idea that his contraption might fail was unthinkable.

But it didn’t fail. The Order had understood the inhuman weight of the Godknight and compensated. A small smattering of applause rumbled through the gathered soldiers as the Godknight rose into the air, carried aloft by the contraption’s two metal arms. The pincers wrapped around his torso and upper thighs, carrying him horizontally towards the God Clasp.

Once in position within the rack’s frame, Fireforge moved to yet another panel of smaller levers and started pushing and pulling. The chains began to extend stiffly from the frame, like serpents in confident search of their prey.

There were nine chains and manacles in all. Fireforge turned the metal arms so the Godknight was held upright; the manacles snapped onto the Godknight nearly in unison. A pair for his wrists, and a pair for his elbows. A pair for his ankles and a pair for his thighs. The final manacle clasped around the Godknight’s neck.

The Godknight flinched, seemingly in reaction, and for a moment Enek’Chok believed he had woken up. But a quick glance at the mystic Naruza reassured him: the Guardian of Humanity was still asleep.

He was pulled into his final position, suspended within the frame of the God Clasp with his arms and legs spread like a star. There were a few cheers now to match the applause. But mostly, there was stunned silence.

Every one of the soldiers of the Order of the Holy Ascension knew of the Godknight. Had heard the stories. The legends. Some had even seen him in action. A very small few had even had a conversation with him. But only one among them had once called him friend.

Enek’Chok felt the familiar sting of melancholy at what had become of the Godknight. An undercurrent of sad regret that it had all come to this. But the Godknight had made choices, choices that had steered the path not only of the people of Brightholme’s lives, but the lives of every man and woman in all the known world.

He had abandoned them all for his select, chosen few. And though the Order had eventually emerged from the ashes of the Great Kingdom Wars, many had suffered and died in the chaos and bloodshed.

Ultimately, the Godknight had earned his current position; destiny’s scales had finally tipped and it was Enek’Chok who had balanced them.

Enek’Chok shoved aside his conflicted feelings the way he had taught himself to do centuries ago, and embraced the righteousness of the moment. Lord Malphor had led them here; Enek’Chok had completed the journey. And now the Godknight was before them, helpless and vulnerable. Humiliated for all to see.

But that was enough time wasted in reverie. There was still the final step: taking the Godknight’s power and delivering it to Lord Malphor. Then, added to his own other-worldly power, Lord Malphor would ascend to true Godhood, and finally grant the Order—and Enek’Chok—Ascendancy.

And true immortality.

“Sh’Tera!” Enek’Chok called, snapping back into action. The Master of Beasts was as ready and eager as he was, it seemed, pulling the two vile kaleese along with uncharacteristic vigor. They reached the end of the load-stone skiff. Orion Fireforge moved one more lever and a ramp extended from its end. Sh’Tera waited there.

Now it was time for the final piece. The Godknight’s power was beyond comprehension. To tame it, Enek’Chok would need the help of a being beyond comprehension.

He produced the prismatic enigma cage and directed everyone to stand back. He was by no means comfortable using it. Enek’Chok’s mind functioned more like Fabian Dewpetal’s, cold and technical, than a mage or mystic like Naruza. But it was simple by design. One simply had to drop it, with intent, to activate it.

He did so, giving it a small nudge so it would roll a few feet away from him. Almost immediately, the cage cracked open and the swirling energy within began to spin in place. There was the faintest sound of buzzing and the hair on the back of Enek’Chok’s neck stood up.

A summoning circle began to form, like the one he had used to summon the Maelstrom. But this one was much smaller. Human-sized.

He waited.

Nothing happened.

Enek’Chok kept his eyes locked on the portal, refusing to look away. All eyes were on him and the portal now. If this didn’t work, it was he that would be humiliated.

But Lord Malphor has assured him it would work. Had promised it would. Anything other than that promise and Enek’Chok would not have counted on the Master of Magic to arrive. There were countless mysterious beings in the known world. But none were as mysterious and unknowable as the Enigmancer.

In fact, Enek’Chok's wariness of magic only magnified the weight of that assurance. Enek’Chok understood magic was an important and real aspect of the world and of the Order. But it was something he had never been comfortable with, and used only sparingly in his campaigns. The siphoning of the Godknight’s power was a massive, complicated undertaking, the likes of which had never even been attempted before. And quite simply, it would not work without the Master of Magic.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Enek’Chok’s discomfort continued to grow, rapidly approaching anger. He hated feeling helpless, hated that such a crucial part of this campaign relied so heavily on something he had no control over.

He felt a profound sense of relief as a form slowly began to rise from the portal.

The troops gasped. Enek’Chok saw some of them backing away. If he had to guess, he’d say more of the Fellowship of the Faithful had witness the Godknight in action than had ever lain eyes on the being emerging before them. The Master of Magic. The Enigmancer, Aetherion.

Enek’Chok had no idea what an “enigmancer” was. So far as he knew, Aetherion was the only one of their kind. And enigma was as good a word as any to describe them.

They had fully emerged from the portal, which closed beneath them with a soft ‘pop.’ They levitated in the air, their back to Enek’Chok, and seemed to survey the scene. Finally they turned around to face him, and despite himself, Enek’Chok shuddered.

Aetherion was a being that had transcended many things: gender, the laws of nature, magic itself. Their appearance reflected that transcendence, as they resembled no other humanoid being Enek’Chok had ever seen or imagined.

Hovering before him was an entity colored a flawless alabaster, their skin etched with animated coils that mimicked ropes of pearl or vines of sculpted marble, lending a three-dimensional appearance. They were tall and hairless, with skinny arms that ended in fingers that more closely resembled a raptor’s talons than a human hand.

Their most noteworthy feature—and the reason Enek’Chok had shuttered—was their face. Or rather, lack of one. Where their eyes should have been, there was only the barest hint of indentations. There was no trace of a bulge of a nose, and only the barest suggestion of a mouth, one that most assuredly never opened. They looked like a sheet of white cloth had been permanently stitched to their head, completely encasing and covering it.

The air around them swirled and crackled as they floated towards Enek’Chok.

“You came,” Enek’Chok said matter-of-factly, unable and unwilling to mask his disdain for the Master of Magic. Or his discomfort.

“At Lord Malphor’s request,” they replied, the sound of their voice reverberating in his ears and echoing across the square.

“Request,” Enek’Chok said. “Do you not mean ‘command’?”

Aetherion reacted not at all. Enek’Chok wasn’t surprised. His rare earlier encounters with Aetherion had gone much the same. The entity seemed entirely disinterested in the trivialities of humans or aeonics, as if they were more concerned with more cosmic matters. Enek’Chok was one of Lord Malphor’s most trusted lieutenants, and though the other Masters owed him no obedience, they at least showed him the respect the position of “Master” demanded.

But all the Masters served and obeyed Lord Malphor, even the deviant Savina Frost. Aetherion was the sole exception, and had a relationship with Lord Malphor that Enek’Chok didn’t understand.

Aetherion turned away from Enek’Chok and began floating towards the Godknight. Enek’Chok couldn’t help himself.

“Are you sure this will work? His power isn’t strictly ‘magic.’ Its source is unknown, and, perhaps, unknowable.”

Aetherion paused but did not turn. Enek’Chok felt momentarily gratified; the pause alone was enough to prove there was still some humanity left in the Enigmancer, enough to provoke a reaction, however small, from.

Sh’Tera glanced at Enek’Chok as Aetherion resumed their glide towards the Godknight. She looked uncharacteristically unsure of herself. Despite how meticulously planned this moment was, she seemed hesitant in the face of Aetherion. Always more comfortable around animals and beasts, Sh’Tera appeared as if she was having second thoughts.

Enek’Chok scowled at her, which was enough to snap her out of it. She scowled back—tried to double the scowl, if such a thing were possible—and led the kaleese up the ramp. They stopped and joined the Enigmancer in front of the Godknight.

Three enigma cages appeared in front of Aetherion. They didn’t wave their hands or make an incantation of any sort. The cages were simply not there one moment, and then they were. They hovered in front of the Godknight, who was still hanging limply from the God Clasp. Aetherion waited.

Sh’Tera made a series of clicks with her tongue and loosened the slack on the chains of the kaleese. They moved forward hungrily towards the Godknight, and Enek’Chok almost couldn’t watch. He had seen this before, in their trials for this moment, and wished he would never have to see it again.

The kaleese had smallish heads to match their tree trunk bodies, with no hint of a mouth. They revealed it now, in the most vile and disgusting way possible.

The head seemed to cave in on itself, as if sucked inwards by the kaleese. What remained was a hole twice the size of its head. The hole was pursed, puckered, and made a sucking, slurping sound as they neared the Godknight’s torso.

Aetherion stood ready. The kaleese fed by latching onto a creature—or man—and literally sucking the life out of them. What remained was usually a shriveled, empty carcass that barely resembled what it had been before. It would be Aetherion’s job to channel the power of the Godknight, about to be sucked out by the kaleese, out of the creatures and into the enigma cages. Then those cages would be brought to Lord Malphor, who would take the power as his own.

And then they would all Ascend, as promised.

The kaleese made contact, one on each side of the Godknight’s torso. His armor had already been torn apart in the battle; the kaleese were able to suck right through what was left of it until they reached the Godknight’s flesh.

It was Enek’Chok’s understanding that the “sucking” of the kaleese was a special kind of agony. If they were hungry enough, it would only take the creatures a few seconds to fully siphon the life from a victim. But if they were well-fed—as these two were—they would take their time. Savor their meal. And it was a good bet they had never had a meal quite like the Godknight.

Enek’Chok had expected the torture to awaken the Godknight. Perhaps he would even put up a fight. But between himself, Aetherion, and the kaleese, he was sure any resistance could be quickly put down.

But the Godknight did not wake. He hung just as limply as before, a sad shell of what he had once been. And, moments from now, that would be all that was left of the once mighty Guardian. A lifeless, empty shell.