Chapter 14

Mah’nethotep materialized in a swirl of shimmering light, stepping into the Room of Convergence, a space unknown to all but the Guardians of the Moons. This was no ordinary place; it did not exist in the physical realm, yet here it was, as real and tangible as any room in the world. The Guardians had woven its creation from the fabric of magic, ensuring its existence remained beyond mortal comprehension. It floated somewhere between the planes, inaccessible to any but the most powerful beings. Here, they could gather in complete secrecy, protected by ancient forces older than time. Within these walls, bound by the protective embrace of the moons, no harm could come to them.

Mah’nethotep, the elf sorcerer, walked slowly toward the vast circular table at the center of the room, his robe trailing behind him, whispering across the gleaming obsidian floor. The massive and ornate table was carved from moonstone and inlaid with glowing runes that pulsed softly in the dim light. There were seats for each Guardian, though most remained vacant, reflecting the growing discord among them. Only Mah’nethotep dared to visit this space now. His presence here was an unspoken declaration that he still respected the old ways, even if the others did not.

As Mah’nethotep settled into his chair, he looked around the room. It was a place of surreal beauty—walls that shimmered with the light of distant galaxies, a ceiling that seemed to open into the night sky, where the moons hung in their eternal dance. Each moon represented the unique elemental powers it governed, and the Guardians drew their strength from these celestial bodies.

Moments after he sat, a figure appeared before him, forming from the swirling particles of moonlight. It was Nexus, a humanoid forged from the moon's very elements. Nexus was neither male nor female but a creature composed of luminous silver and gold hues. Its body shifted and flowed like liquid metal, reflecting the combined essence of each moon's elements.

The air hummed softly as Nexus approached, carrying a tray of steaming hot tea and a bowl overflowing with ripe, colorful fruit—the faint aroma of exotic spices filled the air as the tray was set down before Mah’nethotep. "Hello, Nexus," Mah’nethotep said, his voice warm though tinged with the weariness of centuries. He lifted the delicate cup and took a slow sip of the tea. "It’s been too long."

Nexus’s eyes, twin orbs of soft lunar glow, fixed on the elf. "Hello, Neth," the creature responded its voice a harmonious blend of tones that resonated through the room like a celestial chime. "It has been 1,496 years since we last met there."

Mah’nethotep sighed deeply, nodding as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I know. The other Guardians... they don't much care for me these days," he said, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "As you're well aware, my choices haven’t exactly made me popular among them. We don't speak often anymore. If at all."

Nexus tilted its head, a movement that conveyed a quiet understanding. "The Moons remember," it said simply.

Mah’nethotep chuckled softly, though there was sadness behind it. "Yes, the Moons always remember, don’t they? Even when we try to forget." He plucked a piece of fruit from the bowl, its skin gleaming like stardust, and ate in thoughtful silence.

As Mah’nethotep sat in quiet contemplation, the room began to stir with the presence of the other Guardians. One by one, they materialized into the Room of Convergence, their forms flickering into existence like stars being born in the void. Each Guardian embodied the moon they protected, their essence radiating with elemental power.

The first to appear was Edmund, the Guardian of Law. His aura was rigid and cold, like a harsh winter morning. His sharp, angular features reflected the sternness of his personality, and his piercing gaze immediately locked onto Mah’nethotep. Dressed in gleaming silver armor etched with ancient symbols of order, Edmund stepped forward with an air of authority, his lip curling into a half-smirk.

"I heard your moon got destroyed," Edmund said, his voice sharp with disdain as he raised a single eyebrow. "I was so pleased to hear it. Good riddance."

Mah’nethotep leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Edmund, you’ve always been depressing on the eyes. Has your obsession with ridiculous laws driven you to murder any innocents lately? Perhaps for the grave crime of being left-hand dominant? I hear that's now punishable by death in your lands."

Edmund's smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "Oh, please. You know that would decimate my knights. Nearly half of them would perish. It wouldn’t be practical."

Before Mah’nethotep could respond, a wave of heat rippled through the room, and Phobos, the Guardian of Fire, materialized next. His presence was overwhelming, the air around him crackling with raw energy. His eyes burned with a searing hatred as they fell upon Mah’nethotep. With his smoldering red armor and a mane of flame-like hair, Phobos radiated contempt. He wasted no time voicing his displeasure.

"Nexus, remove this creature from our sight!" Phobos barked, his voice thunderous and filled with venom. "He has no right to be here. He is no longer one of us. He is no longer a Guardian!"

Ever calm and composed, Nexus turned to Phobos, his luminous form unwavering. "You are incorrect, Phobos," Nexus replied, his voice steady and soft like the moon's phases. "Mah’nethotep remains, and he is staying."

Phobos snarled but said nothing further, though his fiery aura flared in anger. Mah’nethotep rolled his eyes, unfazed by the fiery Guardian’s outburst. As he turned to the spot where the other Guardians materialized, two more figures appeared from the shifting mists of magic.

Azrail, the Guardian of Death, was the first. Dressed in flowing black robes adorned with pale bones and ethereal symbols of the afterlife, he moved with a quiet grace. His skin was pale, and his eyes glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. At his side was Amara, the Guardian of Chaos, her chaotic energy palpable even in her silence. She wore an all-black ensemble with strands of shimmering dark magic swirling around her, reflecting the unpredictable forces she commanded.

Azrail smiled warmly as he approached Mah’nethotep, his skeletal hand reaching out to embrace his old friend. "My dear Mah’nethotep," he said softly, his voice deep and resonant. "I heard of your moon’s fate. I am truly sorry. I hope you have plans to restore it in time. Though I must say there’s been a complication. One of the kingdoms has placed a strange spell over a region, interfering with my work. I had to send some death elementals to deal with the undead plaguing the area to get things moving again."

Mah’nethotep returned the hug, a hint of frustration crossing his face. "Thank you, Azrail. I’ve already begun searching for a way to rebuild, though it’s... complicated." His gaze briefly shifted to Phobos and Edmund, his disdain evident.

Amara, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement as she clapped her hands. "The world below is in such a *delightful* state right now! I don’t even know why we needed this meeting. There’s so much chaos! Wars, rebellions, natural disasters... It’s a dream come true!" Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke, but her words were interrupted by Edmund, who shot her a disapproving glare.

"Chaos is the enemy of order, Amara. You revel in the suffering of the mortal realm like a child playing with fire," Edmund snapped, his tone dripping with condescension.

Amara grinned wider, mocking him with exaggerated nods as he continued his lecture. "Yes, yes, order, laws, boring things... You're a riot, Edmund. Truly."

As their bickering escalated, Aquaria, the Guardian of Water, quietly slipped into the room. Her movements were fluid, like a river flowing in silence. She wore a calm expression, her oceanic-blue robes trailing behind her as she sat down without a word, her presence like a calming tide amidst the chaos.

Finally, the last to enter was Dianah, the Guardian of Life, her golden hair glowing with vitality. Her steps were light, and her demeanor serene as she greeted Edmund and Phobos with a nod before taking her seat. Her moon remained untouched, still strong and vibrant, unlike Mah’nethotep’s.

Nexus raised a hand as the Guardians settled into their places, calling for silence. The room stilled, though tension lingered thick in the air. "The Moons are losing their power," Nexus began, his voice grave. "We believe Wispein has been working in the shadows to free herself. She may have found a way to communicate with those in the mortal world. The druids have severed the link to the Moon of the Forgotten."

Whispers broke out among the Guardians, and Mah’nethotep noticed several side glances directed at him. Their suspicion hung in the air like smoke. He felt their doubt and resentment simmering just beneath the surface.

Mah’nethotep slammed his hands on the table and rose to his feet. "Wispein is far more dangerous than any of you realized!" he shouted, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. "You all know the story of my people. Many of you sided with the dragons during the Dragon Wars, refusing to believe us. But one of my followers has found her. Ta'Ffair is alive. And her story changes everything. Wispein orchestrated the war. She deceived you all. She made you believe Nuri killed Ta'Ffair, and she used that to justify her actions. But it was all an illusion. She masqueraded as Nuri and imprisoned Ta'Ffair, draining her of magic, all to further her twisted plans."

Azrail’s face remained impassive, though his eyes flickered with acknowledgment. "Yes, I knew she was alive. Her soul never came to my moon."

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Mah’nethotep’s eyes darkened as he stared at the Guardian of Death, his voice cold with accusation. "You knew? And you didn’t think that was important enough to tell me?"

Azrail shrugged slightly, his expression apologetic though not remorseful. "My hands were tied. I am truly sorry."

Mah’nethotep’s gaze shifted to Edmund and Dianah, suspicion flooding his mind. "And what about you two?" he asked, his voice laced with mistrust.

Before anyone could respond, the air around Mah’nethotep began to hum, gathering magic and dangerous energy swirling as his anger flared. But before he could act, Nexus stepped forward, absorbing the raw power into his form with a calming motion, diffusing the tension in the room.

"Enough," Nexus said firmly. "We are here to find a solution, not to destroy each other."

The room fell into an uneasy silence. The Guardians exchanged wary glances, the weight of their ancient burdens pressing heavily upon them.

As the tension in the room began to mount, a sudden ripple of magic swept through the air, and Adair materialized in his human form. His presence was commanding, his aura an ancient, indomitable force. Adair, the last of the great dragons, stood tall with a regal air, his sharp features and piercing eyes betraying the immense power that lurked beneath his human facade. His silver hair shimmered in the moonlight that illuminated the room, and the weight of millennia seemed to press around him like an invisible mantle.

"Greetings, fellow Guardians," Adair said smoothly, his deep, resonant tone silencing the room. He approached the table and, without hesitation, seated himself at its head, which caused a few of the Guardians to exchange glances. His gaze flicked to Mah’nethotep, and a cold smile tugged at his lips. "I sensed a gathering here and thought joining would be appropriate."

Mah’nethotep eyed him warily, folding his arms across his chest as Adair addressed him directly.

"Mah’nethotep, you know your moon has no place among us," Adair said, his smile sharp and mocking. "You created it. It was never meant to be a part of the natural order."

Mah’nethotep rolled his eyes and exhaled in frustration. "Me and my people created *everything* you see here," he retorted, his voice thick with exasperation. "The knowledge that allowed you to build the moons, the magic that sustains this realm—we gifted you the foundation upon which your power rests."

Adair chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Ah, yes. You provided the knowledge, but we built the moons. I am the oldest dragon left alive, and I remember every stone, every spell woven into their creation." His eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and condescension. "Without us, your knowledge would have been nothing but words on forgotten scrolls."

Before Mah’nethotep could respond, Nexus raised his hand, the light from his ethereal form flaring momentarily as he silenced the room. "Enough," Nexus said sternly, his voice echoing through the chamber. "We are not here to revisit old grievances. I will not allow another outburst within this sacred space."

The room fell into a tense silence as Nexus, ever the voice of reason, took control of the meeting. His eyes, glowing orbs of moonlight, swept across the gathered Guardians. "The task at hand is far too important for petty squabbles," Nexus continued. " Each of you will declare your champion. They will serve as your avatars in the mortal world, and through them, we will deal with the threat posed by Iscariot."

Nexus’s gaze darkened as he spoke the name. "This creature is a danger not only to the realms below but to the balance of the moons themselves. Once he is dealt with, we will turn our attention to Wispein. She is gaining strength, and if she is not resealed, the damage she will cause will be catastrophic. Only after that is done will we focus on recreating Mah’nethotep’s moon."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, though the tension remained palpable. The Guardians knew the gravity of the situation but were equally aware of the personal stakes. Adair’s smirk returned as he leaned forward, his fingers drumming on the moonstone table.

"A solid plan, Nexus," Adair said approvingly. "I will choose my champion first. I declare Elandor as mine."

As Adair spoke the name, the memory of Elandor—an ancient warrior imbued with the power of the dragons—flashed in the minds of the Guardians. His image appeared in their thoughts, a formidable figure with gleaming silver and blue robes and eyes that burned with the fire of draconic ancestry. There was a ripple of acknowledgment from the others as they considered the strength of Adair’s choice.

Not to be outdone, Phobos immediately followed. "Merlot," he declared with a fiery intensity. Merlot’s name conjured the memory of the king's consort. His red dragon-inspired armor and burning sword are symbols of his Undeniable power. He was as volatile as the flames he commanded, a fitting avatar for the Guardian of Fire.

Azrail was next, his voice a calm whisper compared to the others. "Vlad," he said simply, and the Guardians were washed over by the memory of Vlad. His pale skin, aristocratic features, and cold, calculating gaze reminded them of his sword mastery.

Then, Amara yelled out with excitement, "Ernest Pickle!" She said his full name, though there was no need. The Guardians all looked at her in confusion, trying to make sense of the name. The image of a bumbling, eccentric man in mismatched clothes appeared in their minds, his wild hair and unpredictable mannerisms contrasting with the champions chosen before him. Amara grinned proudly as though she'd just made the most brilliant selection.

Edmund glanced around the room, his eyes calculating as they fell on each of the Guardians. After a moment, he smiled, the gleam of cunning visible in his expression. "I will choose Ivan," he said, and the image of Ivan—a knight master known for his brutal adherence to order and law—appeared in their minds. His cold, steely gaze and unforgiving nature made him a perfect choice for Edmund.

Before anyone could continue, a piercing scream filled the room, and Dianah, the Guardian of Life, grabbed her chest in agony. All the Guardians rose from their seats as they felt the shockwave of power ripple through the realms. The Moon of Life was being destroyed.

Dianah's eyes were wide with horror, and her voice trembled. "My world... my moon... it’s being obliterated!" The room vibrated with the echo of her distress, and the very fabric of the Room of Convergence trembled as her connection to the Moon of Life was severed.

Amidst the chaos, Mah’nethotep remained eerily calm, watching the events unfold with an unsettling smile. "It’s starting," he murmured, his voice low but clear. "You must choose, Dianah, or be left without a champion."

Her breath came in short gasps as the reality of her moon’s destruction settled in. Her mind raced, clouded by panic. In a desperate, rash decision, Dianah blurted out, "Yvonne—the new queen. She will be my champion."

As soon as the words left her lips, the image of Yvonne, a young queen who had recently ascended to the throne after her mother's untimely demise, filled the Guardians' minds. She was strong, though inexperienced, her heart pure but untested by the world's weight.

The Guardians exchanged meaningful glances as the tension in the Room of Convergence grew. The destruction of the Moon of Life weighed heavily on them. Aquaria, typically quiet, leaned forward, her calm demeanor masking the storm within.

“I will choose Lina to be my champion,” she said, her voice steady.

In their minds, the Guardians saw Lina—not a mage, but a fierce pirate and baroness of the kingdom. Known for her cunning and ruthlessness on the seas, she commanded respect and fear equally. Her leadership had made her an influential figure who thrived not through magic but sheer will.

Mah’nethotep, observing the others with growing interest, decided to make his choice. A small, confident smile played on his lips. “Zavet will be mine,” he announced.

In the Guardians' minds, Zavet appeared—young, agile, and full of untapped potential. A lizard man of considerable skill, his strength lay not in ancient magic but in his fierce loyalty and instincts. Zavet had lived in the shadows of Mah’nethotep’s fallen moon, but now, he would rise to represent his people and his Guardian.

With their champions chosen, the room grew still. The Guardians knew the stakes. Iscariot's rise and Wispein's dark influence threatened the balance of the realms, and these champions would be their last hope.

Nexus stood at the head of the table, his voice cutting through the silence. “The champions are chosen. Guide them well, for their success will determine the world's fate.”

With that, the Guardians turned their thoughts to the mortal realm below. The battle to reclaim their lost power had begun.

Mah’nethotep was the first to leave the Room of Convergence, vanishing in a swirl of ancient magic. He reappeared within the darkened halls of the Black Pyramid.

As Mah’nethotep strode through the vast corridors, his mind was already focused on the task ahead. He entered the chamber where Tear, his loyal skeletal servant, awaited him. Tear’s hollow, glowing eyes tracked the Guardian’s movements as he approached, the faint rattle of bones echoing in the room's stillness. Mah’nethotep’s steps were deliberate, his presence commanding.

Without a preamble, Mah’nethotep spoke, his voice calm but heavy with the weight of his decision. “The moons are falling, Tear. It’s time to train Zavet. I’ve chosen him as my champion.”

Tear tilted his bony head, confusion evident in how his skull shifted. His jawbone creaked as he replied, his voice a hollow rasp. “Zavet is just a child, my lord. Why would you burden him with this? The task is too great. He isn’t ready.”

Mah’nethotep’s smile was slow and knowing, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of certainty and something more profound—something ancient. “He may be young, but Tear is the only one who can fulfill this role. He and Iscariot... they are bound by the same fate. They are cut from the same cloth.”

Tear’s skeletal face twisted in a frown, though his features could not fully express the doubt that lingered in his mind. “But... he is Inexperienced. Why put him through this trial now when the stakes are so high?”

Mah’nethotep’s gaze softened, though the depth of his conviction remained unshaken. He spoke with the calm authority of one who had seen countless battles and understood the turning points of fate. “Because this is Zavet’s destiny. He may not know it yet, but he will be the one to stand against Iscariot. Only Zavet can kill him—only he has the strength, even if he doesn’t realize it. They are more alike than anyone else could understand. And this challenge... it will be what drives him to unlock his true potential.”

Tear fell silent, his mind turning over the weight of Mah’nethotep’s words. Zavet was young, perhaps too young by any reasonable standard. But Mah’nethotep saw something in the boy that no one else could—a connection that ran deeper than bloodlines or magic. A connection tied to the very fabric of the universe itself.

Mah’nethotep moved past Tear, his voice drifting through the dim chamber. “Prepare him, Tear. Zavet will need every ounce of strength, every lesson, to push through what is to come. The world will soon face a reckoning, and he must be ready.”

With a final glance, Mah’nethotep disappeared into the shadows, leaving Tear standing alone in the vast chamber. The weight of the task before him pressed heavily on his ancient bones.