I always knew I was going to die.

That simple fact was something that nearly every soul I had encountered had to wrestle with. I was aware of it more than most. From my earliest memories, I knew I had been intended for death. That I was to be sacrificed to fuel the insane ambitions of my own father. Fear of my end as much as fear of pain had driven me to flee, to seek sanctuary on distant seas. Terror as much as anything else had motivated me to drown myself in pleasure as much as I could. For if I was to end one day, I might as well enjoy every moment possible to the best of my abilities.

As life marched on, death became more and more of a familiar face, but also one warped by strangeness. I saw my crew die, I crushed my father’s skull in my metallic hand, I witnessed my friends cut down only to be brought back from the beyond. Stars above, the first act I had committed as a divinity was to return a soul to her restored mortal flesh. Even my godhood had been won through the death of my predecessor, as I ripped the Spark from his split open chest. Though I was now divine, that act had marked me as anything but eternal. For if one god can die, than so can every other.

Still, I had expected my doom would be a long, long way off. Millennia at the very least. But now, as the Prince of Night began to change the world around me, I knew my end was at last upon me.

And it was beautiful.

We were no longer in that cavern of dark stone and shining crystals. The same sky no longer hung over us, with its countless stars that I had yet to visit. Instead, the world around me was plunged into complete blackness. All colour and sight was blanketed over by the darkness at the end of everything, the midnight veil that encompassed the space between stars. The mere presence of this primordial before me had drawn me into a time before light had even sparked into being, the perfect stillness that held nearly eternal tranquility before the first dawn. As a man, that was all I would have seen.

But I was so much more now.

I could see them. Not lines of light, for this was a time before radiance. Yet they stood out just the same, twisting and interconnecting pathways that gleamed like something beyond perfect silver. They spread out through the darkness like veins, pulsing with cognitive activity. Emanating from these shoots were images I could barely comprehend, the scope of them universal in scale. This was behind the curtain of a dream, the dream that spawned everything I had ever known.

In the beginning, there was the Word.

Before the beginning, the Saint created it.

And in that dream, were beings such as the one who faced me.

I had expected a monstrous creature, akin to the aberrous psycho-beasts I had encountered before. An eerie, oozing creature of countless tentacles and eyes. But this was no monster, no ravening beast who fed on the dreams and thoughts of those who lived. This being was nearly perfect.

He choose to reflect me, taking on a humanoid appearance. But it was almost glassy, the translucent container of a man. Within were those same, firing synapses that surrounded us both in this sleeping void. He wielded a blade, practically invisible, even to my eyes. Beyond that, I could discern none of his features. He was choosing to present himself in a familiar yet alien way, a paradoxical foe.

We charged one another then, our blades dancing with one another.

Only, this wasn’t a swordfight. Not really. Though it took the appearance of such, every time our blades crossed, the force of his will slammed against mine like a hammer to the teeth. His thoughts, his conviction, his desire, they all formed into psionic blades that hammered into my own mind. His dreams were his weapon, attempting to break me down and daring me to refute his superiority.

I am of the first, a child of the void.

I watched your world being born.

I am the son of one of the Eldest Mothers.

I and mine will return from the imperfect prisons forged by refugee gods.

Each thought contained within a flood of images. I saw his lifetime, spent in the cold darkness that ruled the spaces of reality. He showed me his memories as three worlds collided together, fusing into one. I saw the merest glimpse of the being he served, and how her return would spell the end of all I knew. And I saw what he intended. The blanketing of darkness across my planet, empty night consuming my people and twisting them into alien beings that the Prince saw as the ultimate endpoint of the universe’s heat death. Together, this race of new beings would march on the celestials realms and the nethers, drowning them all out forever.

Gritting my teeth, I fought back. I moved on the offensive, my every action a refutation of his will.

I am the Liberator, slayer of kings.

I am the knight, the sword against the darkness.

I am the god of freedom, I will defend the autonomy of all.

I will end you and yours forevermore.

I forced upon him the vision I saw. Of the old being cast aside by the new, of light continuing to burn in defiance of the empty vacuum. I showed him the love, the communities, the people that thrived now in absence of the horrors he would inflict. And I showed my own resolution, the will that had carried me from being the sacrificial lamb of a damned cult into the ranks of divinity. My old friends would laugh and joke about how much of a lecher I was, and they were absolutely correct to do so. But even in my most perverse days, I still was amongst the finest warriors in the world, and my ascension had only made me deadlier. I had killed plenty of things who were far more ancient than me, this Prince would prove no exception. To protect the world, the will of all, I would exterminate these beings no matter how ancient they declared themselves.

Our clash continued, the pair of us moving like fish through water, striking at each other from above and below. I could sense the Prince’s growing frustration, for he was far weaker than he should’ve been. Eons imprisoned within the earth, separated from his true environment, had drained him. For though we battled in darkness, our true forms were still anchored in the material plane. Rather than being instantly obliterated, I was holding my own.

Yet for all my defiance, I knew I was doomed. This was an arena the Prince was far too familiar with, and more than that, my own strength was slowly draining in this place. I could fight and resist and wage this war of dreams all I wanted. In the end, I was just making myself an annoyance rather than a true opponent. But still, I had to hold on. If I could maintain the fight just a little while longer, I might yet be able to find a weakness of his that would allow me to triumph.

My persistence soon amounted to naught. Blindsiding me with a previously unseen burst of speed, he shot towards me, spearing me through my core. As his eyeless face stared into my own, I heard his one final thought.

Aurvandus is dead.

I saw it, this future he intended to create without me. He would end my people, ushering their souls into the beyond. He would perform the ritual that I had halted, opening the way. Then She would come, and it would all be over. Nothing on this world or in the heavens above nor the pits below could stop her. The weapons that had sealed her away were long gone now, too terrible in their destructive capabilities that the gods had deemed them fit only for destruction. She would consume this world, eradicating the now lessened pantheons that ruled it, before transforming all mortals into beings fit for the void. Then it would end, and I would be nothing but a memory.

It is over, his thoughts came to me then, almost gently. Your war is over, Aurvandus. You can rest, before your wars destroy you.

I felt his essence sapping my will, draining me away. I tried to fight, but his very presence was anathema to my restorative power.

Sleep, broken soul. Peace awaits you.

His words were like a venomous balm to my mind, causing my faculties to seep away. I could no longer see the dreaming shoots, only darkness and the vague outline of my vanquisher. I couldn’t even muster the strength to be angry at my defeat, nor terrified of my end. Tranquility was an all consuming embrace, settling upon my soul and blinding me. It was over.

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I was done.

Yet even as I felt my life ending, light exploded around me. My eyes snapped open and I was back in the cavern, with some shadowy thing looming over me. I was standing atop the pyramid, tendrils of darkness digging into my body. But my attention wasn’t drawn to this barely recovered form of a primordial, but the woman standing over me.

It was Bergunn. Once again, she was raising her shield in my defense, its wrathful radiance blasting straight into the Prince.

With a hiss of air, the shadow retreated backwards, clinging to the rocks. It danced around, almost spider-like, before lunging again, its spiked tendrils aimed right for me.

Uherion surged up the altar, the mighty swing of his flaming axe catching the shadow dead centre. The mass of darkness screeched, the light of the fire splitting it in two. Both pieces reformed but a heartbeat later, yet it did so on the other side of the cavern.

It pulsated there, its darkness deepening, causing the many crystals around the room to shatter. The light around us began to dim, only further strengthening this ancient entity.

“Get up, Calen,” Bergunn said, her voice tight, a sign of her terror. “Get up before it kills us all.”

I tried, feeling warmth return to my body. I felt the psychic pain of the Prince’s invasion of my mind, how it had lured me into its preferred arena so that I wouldn’t notice how it was slowly draining me. Without its presence directly piercing my flesh, I was now recovering, the Spark within restoring my strength. But the Prince’s attacks had pierced deeply, and all I could do was stumble.

“I can’t,” I mumbled, still on my knees. “Need… time.”

“Then we’ll get you it,” Uherion said, holding up his axe in a two handed grip. “Knights! Around the Liberator, keep him safe.”

There was a shout of assent, and all of Uherion’s warriors formed up around me. Bergunn’s Bright Shields joined not a moment later, composing the inner ring of my defense. Rings of red blades and golden armour rallied in the face of an enemy that they couldn’t possibly hope to defeat.

Rather than engage them, the Prince bounced around the room, shattering every crystal. He moved with terrifying speed, his mass and strength increasing with each shattered gem. In but a few heartbeats, the darkness around us was all encompassing, blinding us to anything beyond the sphere of light cast by my protectors.

“Stand… down,” I mumbled, trying and failing to get back on my feet. “You’re going to… die.”

Bergunn and her company shared a look. Damn them, I knew those expressions all too well. The understanding that in order for bodyguards to do their job, they sometimes needed to ignore their charge.

I left because I couldn’t bear to see you die. Please, don’t make me regret coming home.

Uherion was just as resolute. He and his band remained dauntless in the face of eternal night, the last candles burning in a dead house. He needed no communion with Bergunn, for he always was too committed.

I can’t let you die. I can’t.

Growling within my mind, my body too much of a cage, I tried to rise, to fight. It was useless. Whatever the Prince had done, it would take time for my physical form to recover. Godly though my recovery may be, it wouldn’t be in time to save my people.

My sword… I need my sword…

In that moment, the world froze.

I saw a spike of midnight shoot from the darkness, aimed directly for Bergunn’s skull.

I saw Uherion’s muscles tighten as he moved to swing, already far too late.

I saw Bergunn’s eyes begin to widen as she saw her end approach.

And I saw the sword that saved her life.

The silvery blade of the royal house of Valadon moved impossibly fast, severing the spike in an instant.

Sune stood in front of her, panting in the armour I had given him, the sword shining brightly.

The darkness recoiled, then lanced out again. But he was somehow always there, a weapon that had never glowed with that shade of light before intercepting each attack. I could see Bergunn and Uherion looking on in disbelief as this boy suddenly struck with the skills of a master, an unknown power pushing him beyond the limits of his experience. And yet… it wasn’t unknown. Not to me. I could see my own power in him, refining his instincts and enhancing his flesh. This power wasn’t bestowed upon him, not directly, but it was still from me. And I knew why it was my essence that had turned him from a slave into a paladin.

He had made a choice.

Strength surged into me. The power a god gained through devotion specific to their divine domains. That Sune had chosen to fight for me, to go against my request, all of his own free will was nothing less than the noblest act of worship. This faith shown to me by this boy allowed energy to course through me, dispelling most of the topor. Not enough to rise, but enough to shout a command, a plea, a call for aid. I had not thought to call on my debt so soon, but this was a moment unlike any I had faced in my life.

“Syron!” I roared.

The darkness froze, even as more spikes shot out towards Sune. I could feel the fear there, in that moment, with the utterance of that name. It was an identity likely known to the dark ones of the empty. But of course it was. For the soul I had called was a child of the stars.

Like a comet he plummeted down from above, shining in pale blue and silvery. He exploded with radiance, chasing the darkness back, allowing us to see the whole of the cavern once more. In that light I saw the starry wings, brilliant scales, cosmic eyes and photonic core that was the dragon Syron. His very presence inspired awe in both me and my companions alike, the wondrous luminosity of such a being utterly alien to us. Yet he was beautiful, almost perfectly so, a being who had deigned to grace us with his presence. The bond that he and I had forged at last eradicated the exhaustion forced upon me, allowing me to rise to my feet.

“I am called, new god,” he bellowed, every flap of his wings causing the darkness to flee. His gaze fell upon the shifting darkness, his eyes narrowing. “I know thee, Prince of Night. Your place is not here, begone!”

My place was forced upon me!

“Irrelevant,” Syron snorted, and I could feel his radiance restoring me. “I sympathize with your prior plight, but you have the opportunity to return to your prior dwelling. Do so, and we will have no quarrel.”

No. This world holds my brethren imprisoned, that cannot be tolerated.

“Than neither can you,” Syron growled, before turning his gaze to me. “Shall we fly together once more, Aurvandus?”

I nodded, rising to my feet. “We shall.”

With a quiet burst of strength, the Prince shot up into the sky. But even as he broke free into the night, I was already on Syron, his cosmic speed allowing us to keep pace through the open air.

When I had first taken up divinity I had felt… incomplete. That I was missing some sense of belonging to the station that I had killed to claim. I had wandered far, trying to solve an internal matter through external discovery. My path lead me to the forges of Muspelheim, where the Fire Giants had enslaved a fallen star that was one of the eldest dragons to have ever lived. Syron had been a child when the Saint had fused three worlds into one, the witness of that colossal event. We had forged a bond when I had freed him, something that truly made me feel as godly as the Spark made me. The eons that Syron had lived felt like it lent legitimacy to me, his status as an ancient marking me as worthy to become part of such austere ranks.

Our bond also lent us power.

Placing my hands on the dragon’s neck, I invested no small portion of my energy into our union. Having developed the ability to transmute it, Syron’s entire body shone with pale blue energy. The dragon opened his maw, and a beam of concentrated energy shot forth like a lance, piercing through the Prince. With a primordial shriek the shadowy form of the entity was held in place even as the continued beam continued to rip it apart. All the while, Syron flew ever closer, putting me in range to strike.

When Syron approached at just the right distance, I unleashed my blade. Liberty, the quicksilver sword, lashed out and extended like a whip. The weapon’s divine edge bit deep into the shadowy core of the creature, left exposed by Syron’s blast. I channelled all of my might, the essence of the Spark within, pouring it into that singular attack. Golden blue luminosity speared down from my shoulder, flowed down my arm before shooting straight into the Prince’s core.

The detonation was cataclysmic. I was blinded and deafened, left only to feel as the force of the explosion hurled Syron and I down into the sea. We crashed into the waves hard enough to send up a water spout that nearly eclipsed the island in height. The night waters were frigid, almost comfortingly so, as we both sunk. Fish scattered in their massive schools from us, the sheer force of our entry terrifying everything in our immediate vicinity. We drifted down, comfortably for a time, before we shot back to the surface.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to sense the Prince.

“Gone,” Syron answered, his nostrils flaring. “You dealt him a nearly crippling blow, one made worse by his long eons of imprisonment. He lives, but will not trouble anyone for quite some time.”

I grunted. “We will have to face him again.”

“Indeed,” Syron growled. “Him and his kind. But you have more immediate concerns, do you not?”

Nodding, I turned to the island. I could see nearly every ship of the pirates set alight, save for a few that were fleeing. They would not get far.

“Come, Syron,” I said, flying back to my spot upon him. “Let us ensure that none escape.”