Thousands of miles away from both Merricent and Yahzou a storm was brewing. Having been tossed on the ethereal winds for months since his defeat at the hands of the fledgling Synchros host, the dark energies that constituted Teros had finally regrouped. By sheer force of will, the powerful entity had managed to gather all of his energies into a single area and now began the painstaking process of coalescing them into a single cohesive form. Such a task was monumental in of itself, but added to the fact that reconstituting himself into a stable form had so far proven impossible, it was clear that the destroyer had his work cut out for him.

Slowly the black, fluid energy that had previously constituted his amorphous form seeped in from the atmosphere. At first, it collected itself into a spherical mass before struggling under the force of Teros’ impressive will. Slowly and deliberately, it was forced to conform to the mold shaped by his powerful channeling force, eventually taking on a humanoid shape after some time. Next this abstract energy was transmuted. Soon flesh and bone replaced the tar-like substance, before pale skin and white hair manifested to cover his bloody flesh, completing the body of his latest incarnation.

“Finally…” His raspy voice muttered as he suppressed the last of the black energies leaking from his form, the corrosive power that was his namesake.

“We’ve been awaiting your arrival… master.” A distorted voice caused Teros’ white eyebrow to tip upwards with curiosity before a smirk broke across his youthful face.

“You certainly have my name right.” He replied arrogantly. “But I remember no recruitment drive.”

“You need not seek our service, Lord Teros.” The voice sounded once again. “We accede to your cause and request only that you grant us the honour of serving beneath you.”

Teros’ laughter filled the air in response to the disembodied voice.

“All men are beneath me—” He asserted. “—whether through servitude or death, it is not my concern.”

As he said this, he felt the world around him distorting. The thin veil that separated two sister worlds parted, allowing an influx of magic that gave life to three creatures. Once again the forms of Blitz, Roc and Shade manifested from the ether, warping the atmosphere as they were forced into being before they slowly stabilised into human forms. Their presence however only prompted further laughter from Teros.

“What is this?” He sneered. “You are not even men.” His laughter continued. “Tell me marionettes… who is it that pulls your strings?”

“We are no marionettes!” Shade replied with venom. “We are proud haima’sa.”

Teros’ gaze narrowed as he took issue with Shade’s tone.

This gaze caused the three entities to step backward in fear as Tero’s own energies began to surge in response to his displeasure. Fortunately, those addressing him had so far proved amusing to the destroyer, so he opted to spare their lives despite of their insolence.

“Haima’sa, you say?” He inquired as he tried to recall the origin of the words. “Sons of the creator?” He chuckled as he recalled the arcane tongue. “Are you Hierarch’s play-things? Did he make you and then discard you as he so often does?” Teros pressed.

“Who is this Hierarch?” Blitz, the thin, blue-haired haima’sa now inquired.

“Merely a fool that would profess himself my equal—” Teros began to explain. “—that you do not know his name is evidence enough that you were not spawned by his hands. His delusion is matched only by his arrogance – his creations are zealots that preach only his false glory.”

“Such ‘glory’ has not been preached in at least two centuries, whoever this Hierarch is it’s possible that he no longer exists.” Shade explained, now piquing Teros’ interest.

“Two hundred years you say? I see...” He smirked. “What century is this that I find myself in?”

“The 24th Century – soon to be the 25th as a matter of fact.” The massive haima’sa, Roc finally spoke up.

Teros’ eyes widened with shock.

“It’s been a millennium since I was banished to the Annal?” He snarled with outrage. “How can this be so?”

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“History has done its best to erase your last battle with Gaea’s guardians.” Shade explained. “Little is known about the specifics of the event.”

“What we do know is that they sacrificed much to seal you off from Gaea, shattering her in the process.” Blitz continued, but once again the assertions of these haima’sa did little more than feed Teros’ amusement.

“The planet-mother, shattered?” The sneer that he hissed finally erupted into shrieking laughter, as the destroyer now failed to contain his mounting amusement. “The fragile earth that you call home is merely the planet-mother’s Garden.”

“Garden?” Roc inquired curiously.

“Yes. Garden is the cradle of existence, what most would refer to as the corporeal world.” Teros explained. “This Earth is but one aspect of the Gaea, her manifestation within Garden.”

“Well this ‘earth’ has not existed for a thousand years.” Blitz explained. “It was fractured in your battle with the Guardians, split into two sister worlds: Terra and Oya.”

“Yes yes, I can sense the veil between this world and the next.” Teros nodded. “Your Terra plays host to Gaea’s Qi while her Magic coalesces in Oya – no doubt these Guardians intended to cordon off these energies so that I could not use them to break free.” He smirked.

“That was likely their intention, but it came at a cost.” Roc explained.

“Your cataclysms.” Teros nodded. “Yes, I’ve noticed them as I roamed Terra seeking to reconstitute myself. Garden is supposed to be a nexus of stability, the Earth seeks to undo what has been done to it… and these fools simply feed it with the energy needed to complete such a task.” He smirked. “Honestly, I could not ask for more helpful accomplices.”

The three haima-sa warriors just looked on with confusion.

“What do you mean?” Shade inquired.

“Oh right… you can’t feel it can you?” Teros inquired. “But then, how could you? You automatons could never grasp the true nature of the planet-mother, nor the realms within which she fully manifest.”

“Explain yourself, Lord Teros.” Shade’s eyes narrowed at the constant taunting.

Teros just smirked.

“Your maker may have done a fair job of replicating humanity through the magical arts, but his efforts are far from the masterpieces that the planet-mother has created in her time – this current stock notwithstanding.” He scoffed. “As beings of pure magic, you are merely homunculi, lacking the ability to bridge the divide between Garden, the Cache, the Font and the Annal.”

Teros’ grin broadened as the looks of confusion simply intensified on the faces of his newfound servants, but he had explained enough.

“Never mind that. Simply accept that it is beyond your grasp marionettes – such things are the concerns of the sons of Gaea.” He dismissed.

“Gaea’s sons are our sworn enemy!” Shade snarled. “Their hatred, prejudice and primitive nature robbed us of the creator and nearly led to our extinction!”

“We seek their annihilation.” Blitz explained more calmly. “—and if the legends are true, our ambitions are aligned?”

“You know little of my ambitions little doll – but on the surface I suppose that our causes would appear to be the same.” Teros nodded, with a grin. “Now tell me servant, what is this desolate wasteland to which I’ve awakened? I’m surprised that Gaea even allows such an eyesore to mar the Garden.”

“This is the drowned province of Usiles, an area long since abandoned by the humans.” Blitz explained. “Some believe it to be the site of your last battle.”

“Ah yes, these fools called it ‘the new world’ at the time… I believe it was to be named America.” He recalled.

“That it was, until the cataclysms began – then everything collapsed.” Blitz continued.

“I see…” Teros’ eyebrow tipped upwards. “In the anarchy sovereignty was challenged?”

“And in most cases it lost.” Shade affirmed. “The world was reshaped in just a few centuries – names such as ‘America’ are merely relics of the distant past.”

Teros’ laughter erupted, echoing through the desolate, dilapidated streets and windswept derelicts that littered the area.

“Even their empires are weak.” He chuckled. “How Gaea thought that they would succeed us remains lost upon me.”

“Man is a flawed race.” Shade scoffed. “They embody weakness and exhibit it at every turn.”

“And I suppose you haima’sa, the sons of man see yourselves as their superior?” Teros’ laughter echoed.

“The creator was no mere man… and even then he did not create us in his own image.” Shade snarled once more. “We were born to be better – to embody what his flawed humanity would not allow him to be. The haima’sa were his greatest ambition and his true legacy.”

“And his undoing no doubt.” Teros pressed.

“Indeed.” Blitz answered without hesitation. “His kin were blinded by their imperfections and they destroyed him for seeking to transcend his own.”

“Yet they could not destroy your ancestors?” Teros queried, somewhat intrigued by the story.

“Our destruction, as our creation, was beyond their capacity to grasp.” Shade continued. “We are not merely constructs comprised of magic, but we are magic itself. Destroy our bodies and we simply find new ones, we need but time. We are legion; an unrelenting scourge upon humanity.”

“Well, you certainly don’t lack for theatrics – your creator must have been quite the character.” Teros chuckled. “What you are is little more than unfettered code – a miniscule portion of the Annal made manifest upon Garden. It’s unlikely that your creator even knew what he was truly doing when he conjured you into being.” His laughter faded to a smirk. “Had he realised the power which he wielded, he might still be alive to lead his misguided children. But it matters not I suppose – this all works to my advantage. Come marionettes… there is work to be done.”