Rowan smiled, watching as the other women fawned over his wife’s slightly extended belly. Sora laughed with them, showing no regret about her current condition, despite her joking about it with him earlier. It was going to be their first child together and she was well and truly happy to start a royal family with him.

He began to wonder how the other bastard children he sired were getting along these days.

“Look at 'em all, cackling like a bunch of hens at feeding time.” Azmund said, walking up beside him. “Do you think that one in the green dress is into handsome older men though?”

Rowan looked at him and smirked. “I can tell you for a fact she is, but she’d probably change her mind about it if you’re involved.”

He looked at the lord and sneered. “Driving that knife deeper everyday. Aren’t you supposed to be leaving soon? We already had one creature stinking up this place and then you started hanging around.”

He nodded to the senior monk. “Tomorrow when the storms break, we’ll make our way to Agrun. Should there be another emergency, you can reach me there over the next few months.”

Azmund let out a hearty chuckle. “You’re getting soft. Before much longer and she’ll be putting you in a fancy new dress.”

If she does,” Rowan said with a smile, “I’ll have to be extra careful you don’t start pawing at me during one of your drunken stupors.”

The older man started to protest when Talos stepped into the hallway. He looked more exhausted than ever, but still managed to maintain a composure of absolute discipline. Rowan knew of the trials he and all the mages of the Wellspring Monastery had endured over the last several months, and he’d do everything in his power to get them whatever aid they required.

Rowan turned to the man and nodded “Brother Talos, I hope you are faring better.”

“I am not,” the weary monk said. “Come, there is something you need to see.”

Rowan turned back to Azmund. “Care to join us?”

Azmund shook his head. “Damnation. Last time I got close to that thing, I suffered nightmares bad enough to piss myself. I’m not going back down there for the rest of my days if I can help it.”

Rowan patted the man on the shoulder with a laugh. He turned and followed Talos back down into the basement until they came to a large door, secured with a heavy lock. The monk pulled out the large, strangely shaped key and fit it to the device. A moment later there was a click and the door swung forward on ancient hinges, creaking wearily as it did so.

Talos pulled two glass balls out from his black robes and murmured a few strange words. Energy flowed from his hands and into the orbs, causing them to glow brilliantly. He placed these into some nearby brass lanterns hanging on the wall.

Rowan took the lantern housing the temporary mage light. They were easy enough to make, and would last long enough for whatever reason he was being brought down. They took precautions with bringing the permanent lights down, or any other magical items, for fear of letting too much mystical essence near the trapped god.

They started down the long hallway and descended several flights of stairs. It had been some time since Rowan had been down here, but the memories of that last visit still seemed so fresh in his mind. All those years that had passed, but some things never really changed it seemed.

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“Did you ever find out why Morphis started fighting against his bonds so suddenly?” Rowan asked.

Talos nodded. “Maybe. Cult in Stegness also gained a sizable following.”

Rowan knew Talos didn’t care to talk much, but he was curious now. “Care to elaborate.”

The mage shot him a weary glance, and then shrugged. “Wasn’t anything much. Brothers and sisters in the area are currently dismantling it.”

“A small cult following shouldn’t have powered him up enough to cause a threat.” Rowan shook his head in disbelief. “There has to be something else.”

Talos didn’t elaborate any further. He simply continued around the corner and down the hallway in silence until they reached a pair of large doors set expertly in the stone. They.d been created and installed by dwarven craftsmen centuries ago to ensure that not even the strongest giant could brute force their way in. Powerful magics added another layer of security and prevented nimble lockpicks or any other unwanted trespasser access beyond.

Rowan looked over at his companion “Damn. I can already feel him trying to pry his way into my mind. That shouldn’t be possible.”

Talos looked at him and nodded in agreement. He placed his hand on the doors and a brief flash illuminated both of them, leaving sparkles of magical energy drifting in the air. Slowly the portal opened on its own power into a larger room beyond.

The room ahead stood nearly double his height and was big enough to fit nearly a hundred men comfortably. All along the floors, ceiling and walls, large metal plates glowed with magical runes inscribed upon them. They’d been put there centuries before to create this prison cell for a god, and so far they’d managed to keep him trapped here without much incident.

In the center of the room on a raised pillar sat an onyx sarcophagus held down with thick chains. There were no locks to be seen on them as they were never meant to be undone. Rowan knew that inside of that mysterious box was Morphis, the treacherous dark god that had caused so much chaos throughout the world. That he had even been captured in the first place was a miracle unto itself and one that most likely couldn’t ever be repeated.

There could be heard a great thrashing noise, as if flesh were pounding stone, coming from inside the box. Rowan watched it warily, almost expecting any moment for him to blow it apart. Thankfully it seemed that the god remained contained and soon ceased its thrashings.

Talos came up beside him. “We’ve exhausted ourselves time and again putting power back into this containment field. I fear it is not enough now.”

Rowan looked at him, somewhat worried at the situation. “You need more mages then?”

The monk solemnly shook his head and then pointed to a glowing sigil on the wall. “Look closely at this.”

He got near the rune and studied it intently. It didn’t take long to discover what the problem seemed to be. It looked like small pieces of the marking had flaked off, like old paint would tend to do on a weathered board. He looked to Talos, unsure if what he was seeing was really actually happening.

“Now watch,” Talos said, putting his finger against the rune. It flared brilliantly as he transferred his magical energy into it. A moment later he removed his hand, looking more worn out than ever.

Rowan inspected the rune again, seeing it glow brighter, but it still had those defects in it like the energy hadn’t been able to fully renew it all the way through. “It’s failing,” he said as a numbing fear began to take hold. “Damn it all. The magical wards are starting to wear out. It wasn’t just the cult worshippers empowering him, but the failure of this prison cell.”

Talos nodded, affirming his fears. “I do not believe our situation to be unique. I’m awaiting reports from the others.”

Rowan slammed his fist into the palm of his hand, uttering a multitude of curses. They’d spent so long trying to weaken the gods by removing their followers from believing in them, a long term strategy that seemed effective enough. Now they’d have to take direct action instead of simply awaiting the results of subterfuge. He’d have to set new plans in motion and hope they bore fruit, sooner rather than later. If they failed, the reawakened gods wouldn’t be likely to show him any mercy.

Rowan looked back to the sarcophagus, the dull ache of true fear in his heart. “I will speak with the other lords, and we shall come up with something. In the meantime, increase the agitators in Norport. When I return home, I’ll spark the flames of revolt myself if I have to.”