Shade’s rebellion against his mother ended as soon as she truly desired it to. This was always going to be the case, so Hestia had let her son wander and frolic as he chose. When he left her court with words of destruction, wrath and ruin, some of his siblings and stepfathers had been upset, Mania most of all.

Hestia had corralled her less intelligent children and explained the situation to them in no uncertain terms.

None were to follow Shade. Neither to replicate his betrayal nor to seek revenge for it. She had not used her soul relics to instil this level of control because it was not necessary. Of all her children, only three could ever disobey her wishes intentionally.

Certainty, with her golden skin and powerful magic, thought that she controlled the court, while her mother was a weapon to wield. It was not entirely disadvantageous for her to think this, so Hestia allowed it to fester. If Certainty thought that she had control, she would not look to find it elsewhere as her brother had.

Mania could ignore her if he chose to, though that was more to do with his somewhat fractured mind. This, too, was allowed to cultivate on its own. Like a mushroom, Hestia had let Mania live in the darkness. When tales of his debauchery reached her, she praised him. He would do as he's told, even though he could choose not to, because he was a sycophantic, psychotic, worm. She loved him for that.

Shade was the only one who noticed. He was the only one who could feel the hook that she placed in a person’s mind when they saw her. He wriggled out of it in such a spectacular fashion that to deny him would be like denying a piece of art. She watched from afar for a while and truly would have been content to leave it that way. That is, until the appearance of the spear.

She could feel it even now. A snaking, slow and weak intelligence that was spreading itself thin. She would trace it back to the origin soon but disciplining her son came first. He drew the blade Raze from its ethereal sheathe but it never once reached Hestia’s skin in their fight. Now, she held it while he sat obediently to her right. She could feel effort from within him to move but her hold was firm and he was going nowhere.

“This really is a gorgeous weapon, Shade. Tell me where you got it.” It was almost amusing to watch her son struggle. Almost. Instead it was aggravating to see the set jaw, the conscious pause and sigh before he spoke. He could not resist the compulsion in his beaten state but he was still trying.

“A blacksmith by the name of Park Man-Shik.” Disgust crossed his face and Hestia’s own as Shade said the name. For him, it was disgust at giving up information but for herself it was the bad taste of nostalgia. It would certainly make sense for this blade to have been made by that clan of weaponeers.

“I thought none survived the purge. Explain.” As Hestia knew it, the Park clan had been a small but prominent enclave of enchanters and weaponsmiths. Sat in the lands between Guan, Allusia and the Wastes, they were well situated to trade with everyone.

Which had been problematic.

Hestia herself wasn’t sure who had eventually squashed their small clan but it hadn’t bothered her to hear it had happened. She had a few trinkets at the quality they could make but compared to her soul relics, they were baubles. The most interesting facet had been the complete firestorm which had been suffered by the land and its people. Hestia assumed that it had been the petty king or his zealous uncle but that wouldn’t matter to anyone but herself.

“A few years ago I met a man travelling in the labyrinth. He seemed weak but to have made it so deep from the direction he had come was a triumph. To do this, he had used weapons which he had created. I assisted him in returning to his home and in return he asked me to return some months later.” Shade took a deep breath which, to his credit, he turned into a growl before falling back into a dull voiced explanation. Her control was weakening with every passing minute, Shade’s strength returning.

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“That is when he gave you this? Does he still live?” Shade’s upper lip twitched at her questions. Hestia cocked her head and waited a moment. Questions weren’t orders and so Shade managed to keep his thoughts to himself. She watched as the effect passed through him, over him and out of him. “Impressive, son. Fine, a lone blacksmith is of no concern to me.”

She grew tired of this. She could feel the pulse of a soul relic being used in close proximity once more. The boorish Boh Tahn waving his rod around again, or was it the whip this time? The two items suited him. The sceptre, amongst other things, allowed for impressive healing. The whip tore the flesh apart and left horrific scarring and pain. Torture and coverups. Perfect for him.

Her own items were not so gauche. The helmet allowed her to enter dreams at will. Her ability to control others worked in earshot and eye contact but the helm meant her influence could be felt anywhere. She activated it now and spread her perception across the labyrinth. Each hall became her eyes, the stone becoming her skin. The relics were all linked to the labyrinth in some way or other and this was certainly one of the most useful.

In her perception, tens of dozens of lights appeared. The layout of the labyrinth stretched before her. The fullness of the snaking structure was far too much for even her powerful, magically amplified mind. She focused on the few miles around herself and the underside of Allusia. The amount of lights glowing in her mind fell to a manageable amount.

Herself and the pope were the brightest lights. Each relic had its own signature. After that came Shade and Mania. Shade seemed like a glittering ball of potential while Mania’s signature was much more frenetic. He had stormed out when she had told him they weren’t killing Shade but he hadn’t gone far. From her makeshift throne room, she found the spear.

Two lights were flickering near to it, dimming and flaring in flux. A combat was occurring and the spear itself was their enemy. That would be amusing. “Come.” Hestia commanded with the fullness of her power, amplified by the relics in her possession. There was no moment of control from her son. She didn’t allow it any more.

It was time to move.

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Shin Boh Tahn was generally a sensible man. Certainly, there were very few who knew him well enough to know of his less sensible exploits. Most were dead, though there were some who still knew.

Hestia was one.

They had clashed multiple times in the past. Sometimes he had come away victorious, sometimes she had. Ever since Shin Ri Hon had claimed the soul relic shield, their battles had ebbed into nothingness. There was an obvious positive to the ending of wars, the lack of bloodshed was a good thing, the lack of death was a positive.

But he missed it.

So when he had felt Hestia, somewhere in the labyrinth, planting herself against him in an attempt to retrieve the spear, he had been delighted. A challenge to face with strength, rather than words. It would be glorious. Boh Tahn found himself stretching out the experience, waiting on the other side of the door below the church. He was content to see what the next move was before making his own.

The two girls upstairs would be unconscious for a while, if they survived. He had lashed the smaller girl something fierce, so it was possible she died, but it mattered very little. He could leave Oblax here to deal with whatever might bother him from behind. The boy had grown into a man since Boh Tahn had last seen him but the pope was glad to see the devil had not left his ward’s mind.

Boh Tahn had found Oblax covered in the blood of the third massacre he had “survived”. Often, a jewel can be mistaken for a rock but in this case, it was a blade being mistaken for a leaf. Oblax had torn apart practitioners, mages and soldiers alike all at a tender young age. He could not see people as anything more than noisy bags of meat. There was a fondness to the memory of the feral child who had tried to tear Boh Tahn’s head off. It was quaint.

“My boy,” Boh Tahn started, getting every fragment of Oblax’s attention with the first word, “the spear was in the next room, was it not?” Whether it had been or not, it wasn’t there any longer. The labyrinth was roiling and bubbling beneath the surface of Jaia, most likely in response to the spear’s intent. Even now, Boh Tahn could feel the spear running away.

“It was. As I mentioned, the Guan siblings were attempting to claim it.” A worthy attempt to shift blame but Boh Tahn would be more upset if Oblax didn’t have plans upon the weapon. It would be Boh Tahn’s, not anyone else’s, but aspiration was necessary for initiative. “I imagine that Po Shang had dealt with the intruders by now.”

It was true, the sounds of fighting in the room beyond had stopped. It was about time to enter but the moment he did, Boh Tahn was sure that Hestia would attack. The room he currently waited in, a small foyer at the bottom of the stairs, was not technically a part of the labyrinth. If he entered the labyrinth proper, the true combat would begin.

Seize the spear.

It was possible to ignore the call of the soul relics. Uncomfortable but possible. They carried a will of their own, the will of his god. It made him sick to his stomach to think of Hestia receiving the words that he did. He would remove the holy items from her heretical grasp and put to bed this long game that they have played. Once she had been dealt with, the elves and dwarves would crumble, too.

“Alright, brother Claré. It seems it is time to finish this. Shall we spread the good word?” Everything was going right for Shin Boh Tahn. His god was on his side, pushing him forward. His protégé would be witness to the beginning of his true ascension. He would collect the soul relics, place himself at the right hand of god and look out over a peaceful and just world.

It was all so perfect.