The mountain loomed above them with steep and thankless slopes. The moon rose high and full above them. Snowfall fell upon them from high, and no star could be perceived in the darkness. Beneath his fur cap, Rokas could see nothing from Kulat he recognized. Elranor's guidance had left him wondering where he was on the map. He pulled his white fur cloak closer around him and walked on as winds higher than anything he'd felt tore at him. Never in all his journeys had he seen such a gale. Yet Elranor walked on steadily, and Rokas found that he could bear it in his presence. Rokas wondered how Taha or Nendas would have handled this. But then, would either of them have followed Elranor? Perhaps, but it would have to be under the right circumstances. However, that might be true for Rokas as well. He missed his friends.

What he knew was that this place was not on any map and stood high above the horizon. Rokas scaled up the stones as quickly as possible, following Elranor's footsteps. Higher and steeper it went. The wind and snow became all the more terrible as darkness crept over the image of the moon. Now the night was coming on, and Rokas wondered if he could continue. His hands were going cold.

Rokas was now following an enemy he had persecuted into the darkness. But surely Elranor could have killed him if he so desired. Would it be right to ask questions? "Where are we going? Why scale this mountain?"

"Only by reaching the top of this mountain will you ever be able to find the Divine Gate," said Elranor. "It is not an easy place to reach. And no mortal has ever scaled to it without assistance from a deity. You need not fear attack; however, violence is not tolerated in this mountain."

"And what, then, when we have found the gate?" asked Rokas.

"I will allow you entrance, but you must find your way back. I am needed elsewhere," said Elranor.

"Have you been to other worlds, then?" asked Rokas.

"Many," said Elranor. "Many more than you will walk upon. Though not always as I am now. And my sole interest is in exploring this one before I finish. Now come, we've work to do."

"Where are we?" asked Rokas.

"In Themious, Rokas, in the northern and wild reaches that even the Amazons do not tread," said Elranor. "We have gone long and far together, though you could not see it."

The air became thinner as they reached the knees of the mountain, and the snow was thick around his knees. It was utterly dark now, save for Elranor. The moon had vanished entirely, and Rokas groped in vain across the fridged lands. He looked down; it was a mistake, for one wrong move could see him fall. Was it miles down to that land below? There would be no surviving such a fall. But Elranor trudged ahead, leaving footprints in the sod that glowed with light. Yet Rokas would fall through the snows Elranor could step upon. He was floundering through waist-high snowbanks. It was all he could do to force his wayward. He bitterly missed Taha and Nendas but was not eager to find them. He'd only be bringing them back to die as things were going.

But the lives of everyone in Tarasif relied on what he was doing, perhaps even their souls. However, Rokas reflected that all of this might be for naught. Taha would never sacrifice herself for anyone, and Nendas, it seemed, was past such a stage. He was bitter and angry and might refuse out of spite.

Perhaps that was the only reason the sacrifice had meaning. Rokas thought they faced a terrible end. One for which they would receive neither thanks nor recognition.

It was too much. Elranor had halted, and Rokas could no longer force himself forward. The god turned to him, face impassive.

"The night is darker now," gasped Rokas, trying not to collapse. His lungs were overburdened, and the air that entered them was freezing. "I am...

"I am having trouble breathing. I can go no longer."

"Of course you are," said Elranor. "The air in this place is too thin for a mortal to breathe. But Gods need no air to walk; they breathe the essence of life itself. And that is strong here.

"Take hold of my hand and mark my footsteps, and I shall sustain you. You shall find winter's rage will trouble you less."

Elranor offered a hand that glowed in the light, and Rokas hesitated as he saw it, wondering about the price. But then, what price had any of Elranor's actions had yet? Rokas took the hand of death. As he did, he felt his lungs fill with something, and it filled his body. He felt... wonderful.

Scaling higher, he stepped in the footsteps and found that as he did, heat rushed up to fill him. Nor did the snows yield to him. It was in the very snows Elranor had trod upon. It filled Rokas with warmth as his lungs were filled with air. So they walked onward beneath foreign stars in a wasteland of snow.*

On they went, ever further higher and closer to the peak in the clouds above. Even so, Rokas felt he was unsure of the plan. "Once I have gotten past the Divine Gate, how may I locate Nendas and Taha?"

"It will be difficult," said Elranor. "You must find your guide on your way out of here. I recommend going after Jaha first."

"Why her first?" asked Rokas.

"It will be the easiest," said Elranor. "Once you free one of them, I promise you the Gods shall be alerted to your presence. Jaha is not one to become violent, preferring to kill with kindness. And Nendas is not in human form at the moment.

"Tamar, on the other hand, is a far more bloodthirsty creature. She is likely to slaughter you as soon as she catches you. You'll want to run from her for as little time as possible.

"Once you get back into this domain, I shall provide you with cover from her. But you must not be caught while in the Divine Realm, or you'll be lucky to join your friends."

"How will I get out, then?" asked Rokas.

"You need not take the front gate," said Elranor. "The Divine Realm has only one entrance you mortals can use in this world. Yet there are many exits. I do not know them all, but my brother can lead you to one. Things will be in his hands once you pass over to the other side."

"Why is there a Divine Gate anyway?" asked Rokas. "Surely you can come and go as you please."

"Several reasons which do not come into this matter," said Elranor. "Suffice it to say that the Incarnation of the Land chose to make the ascent to the divine a literal journey. Most worlds do not have one." And at last, they reached the top of a plateau leading toward a flat wall. "It is why Zeya choose to build her palace at the peak of it.

"Though is high enough that no mortal could climb so far.

"But enough of this; the Divine Gate stands before us."

"...I do not see it," said Rokas.

"That is because you are looking only with your eyes," said Elranor. "Step back from your preconceptions of reality and gaze upon the true nature of things."

Rokas paused and remembered his meditations. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind, releasing his attachments. Then he opened them, looked at the wall, and began to see the shimmering outline of a gate. The more he saw it, the clearer it became, and he nodded. Beyond was a great forest. "I see it."

"You'd best go soon. Or else someone will notice us," said Elranor.

"Yes, thank you, Elranor!" said Rokas before racing through the gate. "I shall not forget your kindness!"

There was a wrenching as he passed beyond. And Rokas found that some presence seemed to be fighting him. Every step he took became more of a labor, and it seemed to him that he was walking through a translucent passage. Yet there was nothing around it save a sort of grayness, and the further he walked, the more he ached in body and soul.

Some power was setting itself against him, though he fought tooth and nail to move forward. His progress was slowing. And it only got slower as he trudged onward, little by little breaking into sweat. His vision blurred, his body ached, and he could hardly think.

Rokas thought about Taha, held captive by Tamar, and was able to fight on a few steps. Then a few steps more. He thought about his debt to her, for her saving his life, and knew he had to repay it. This got him a few steps further, despite little apparent progress.

On and on he went until the memory of Taha turned to their many conversations. Her concern for him, though it was a warped thing. He thought of the torments she might be undergoing in Tamar's grip, which got him further. Then his memories of their work as acrobats and their time as soldiers got him a little further.

But the enemy, whatever was facing him, was fighting harder and more viciously than ever. Rokas took this to mean that it had limited strength, for why else would it only hit him with weaker power?

Whatever the reason, the memories of Taha began to fade. He thought of her instability, her ruthlessness. And he thought of her endless disrespect for the gods. Soon the path was solidifying again. It was almost pushing him back.

But he must go forward for Nendas as well. For Nendas had done no wrong, or very little at least. He had been caught in games beyond his comprehension, and he had tried to behave honorably. Time and again, he would have left life behind and become good if only Samrasa had been as good as his word. If only they had not been in fear of death.

His points during their discussions with Taha had always been better than Rokas'. Without him, Taha might have won in the field of debate many times. Perhaps he could redeem Taha in time if only he could be freed. But now he was becoming sick as he thought of the death of Ralign and the damnation of Munrus.

Was Nendas truly so guiltless? Perhaps he had not been looking for a way out nearly as much as he claimed. And Rokas, gradually, had his pace slow again as the path fought him all the harder. How long must he march in this place?

Could he go further? His strength was waning, and he could not think of anything else to fight for. All his efforts had gained him only a little traction. It had called down still greater resistance. But what of himself? Why should he lose his family, friends, and now his city? He'd had as little choice as Nendas, perhaps less. At least Nendas had been allowed to choose whether to accept Jaha.

Rokas had never had a choice with what he was.

That got him further, yet Rokas knew he had so much to go.

What else could he use to fuel his movement?

What of Tarasif? What of all the people that would die if he did not succeed? What of all the people who would lose relatives in the city? All of them had their hopes, dreams, and desires. Each one would leave behind many people who mourned them. It would leave a gaping hole in their lives.

Every one of them would lose more than Nendas, Rokas, or Taha. All their lives were connected, and with every severing of a bond, harm was done to many. To destroy Tarasif would annihilate so many bonds that it would scar the land. To allow its destruction might be just, but Rokas had the means to save those people.

And to save them, he must save Taha and Nendas.

And at last, he could run, forcing through the last wall and breaking through to the realm of the gods. As he moved through the pages of reality, he perceived all things around him and nothing at all. Reality and unreality made one, with all that could have happened and all that had happened. He saw faced, reading words over endless hours. Some were transfixed by what they saw. Others were disgusted or bored, and some cast what they perceived away. Yet the memory of what had been perceived remained. It was real in some sense, entering their mind and influencing them. Yet some forget what they saw and never had it come to mind. Yet it did not matter.

Rokas was here to save Nendas and Taha. And he would not be stopped. Though his world might be an illusion, as Taha claimed, it was no less important. For Rokas, Nendas and Taha existed for a purpose and must fulfill that purpose well. Even if they and all they have never existed, the perception of them would alter those who had it. And to alter them for the worse would be the worst of crimes. Yet to inspire them, to delight them. To convince those real beings, wherever they existed in reality, to be greater. That would be a worthy existence.

Were these observers he saw around him real? Were any of them real? Had he conjured them up and perceived them as a shadow of his thoughts? Taha would think so. Nendas would dismiss his thoughts as absurd.

Nendas was too practical.

In the end, it did not matter.

The world was an illusion. And it must be saved.*

*I don't think Elranor can do this.

For one thing, he has always been associated with cold, death, and healing. The ability to create heat seems antithetical to his nature. Do what you will; all gods have specific qualities that are part of what they are. And Elranor, though benevolent and wise, does not have a very nice powerset.

Anyone who has worked in a healing house can tell you what horrors you'll find there. And death needs no introduction.

This power seems more like something Barden might have. Being the god of trade and civilization. Perhaps this document substituted Barden for Elranor? It would not be the first time a story consolidated the actions of several characters into one.

*Without Rokas, I should have abandoned this project; damn Tanith's nagging. Despite his flaws, he is the only person in this miserable state of affairs who can be considered good.

Taha is dangerously deranged and seems to lack a moral compass of any kind. Only the disapproval of her friends keeps her from being a monster. Nendas tries to be good, but his desire for revenge drives him to the unthinkable.

Rokas though... Despite being victimized by his family and cheated by Samrasa, he holds no grudge. In some sense, even his friends, Taha and Nendas, have wronged him. Rokas is treated as a subordinate or equal when his blood and rank are higher. Yet he takes whatever role the universe for have for him and does what is right.

It is appropriate that he should be the ultimate hero of this story.