The tunnel slowly descended, the walls and ceiling made from the same roots and bark as the other structures in the sanctuary. A faint light grew ahead, and heat pressed against Darian’s skin, blowing through as if carried by a gentle breeze. The scent of wildflowers touched his nose, accented by the sweetness of pine. When the ground eventually leveled out, he was faced with another set of doors, but these were already open, inviting him deeper.

Beyond lay a circular chamber with a small golden sphere affixed to the center of the ceiling. It radiated the same light and energy as the larger one outside, highlighting the yellow petals of the flowers which grew freely throughout the room. But Darian’s attention was quickly drawn to the throne, and the God who sat upon it.

The throne was made of twisting and knotted roots, bits of leaves poking between the wood. Sitting on it was a dark-skinned man clothed in white robes, the edges shimmering gold from some kind of enchantment. His face was clean shaven, but his hair was a braided expanse of dark orange leaves, a streak of white down the right side. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with wrinkles puckering around his eyes as he squinted at the vampire before him.

“Greetings,” the God of Seasons said, his voice deep. “I wasn’t sure you would come, but I’ve been told you’d found yourself in quite the predicament.” He chuckled, then clutched his left side as his face shifted momentarily to a pained grimace.

Darian looked into the God’s glowing, yellow eyes as he replied. “I was told you could heal one of my allies. I had to come.”

“And rest assured, your friend has already been seen to.” The God studied Darian for a moment. “You must value your allies greatly. What if this was a ruse? Or a trap of some kind?”

“Your daughter slaughtered a whole group of warriors by herself, and it took her less than a minute. If you wanted me dead or harmed, she certainly could have done it on her own.”

He smiled. “Does her strength bother you?”

“No,” Darian lied.

“It should.” the God frowned, power radiating off him. “You are an Aspirant, yet you flounder about like a lost child. It’s a wonder someone hasn’t killed you already.”

Doing his best to remain stalwart, Darian stepped forward. “Did you bring me here just to insult me?”

“Hardly.” The God relaxed, his face softening. “But you do not understand what you are, not truly. Or the danger you are in.”

“I know the other Aspirants are probably gunning for me,” Darian said. “But none of them should know where I am or where I’m going.”

“This is true, but it’s not the Aspirants that should trouble you.”

“What do you mean?”

The God of Seasons produced a staff from his inventory. Leaning on it for support, he slowly rose to his feet, his face pulled tight around a pained frown. “The Gods, blood Aspirant. They are what should frighten you.” He limped forward, his staff gripped tightly in his hands. “With two of the Aspirants slain, those who remain will have drawn divine attention. And the Gods who have chosen Aspirants to shepherd into divinity will not take kindly to those who stand in the way of their ambitions.”

“There was an elf I spoke to. A man named Aurel. He told me the Gods are readying themselves for some kind of war. I guess they plan on using the Aspirants to their advantage?”

The God of Seasons stopped a few paces away. “You are correct. They each have likely chosen an Aspirant to aid. After all, having an extra God on your side would be a mighty boon.”

Darian crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that why you sent Almeda to find me? Do you want me to fight on your side in this coming war?”

“Maybe, if it comes to that. But what I want from you is something else. Something grander.” He grinned, his eyes alight with either passion or insanity. Maybe both.

“What do you mean by that?”

The God of Seasons gestured for Darian to follow him. “Your Divine skill, it allows you to create vampires, does it not?”

“How do you know about my divine skill?” Darian asked.

“I will explain that soon. But your divine skill is why you are here.” He hobbled toward the wall on the right side of the room. As he approached, the winding wood parted, and a new tunnel appeared. “There was another whose potential interested me, but when you killed her, I was left with only one option.”

“Victoria,” Darian mumbled, his battle with the Grave Aspirant flashing through his mind and quickening his pulse.

“Her power, if nourished and given time to grow, would have eclipsed even that of Atarax and his army of demon spawn. Imagine someone with the power to command undead Aspirants and Gods?” He started down the tunnel.

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“Would something like that even be possible?”

“Normally no. The divine essence within our souls and bodies would never allow necromancy to work. But a divine skill to raise the dead? That could make the impossible a reality.”

Darian followed the God to another set of double doors, these made of dark metal.

“Null ore,” Darian mumbled.

The God of Seasons produced a black key from his inventory. “Gathering this much took many years, but it was the only way to contain the relic’s power.”

Darian thought he meant the massive hunk of metal standing before them, but then he slid the key into the lock and pushed the doors open.

“Welcome to the Augur of Divinity.”

The room was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from within a raised platform in the center of the room. The walls and ceiling were completely flat and made of darkened metal that sent an odd shiver down Darian’s spine. The God of Seasons shuffled inside, Darian following close behind. Stepping into the room, a tingling sensation washed over Darian, and he could tell his powers were being suppressed.

Shimmering blue water sat inside the chest high platform that dominated the center of the chamber. It lay perfectly still, but as the God of Seasons approached, the liquid began to rise up and take shape, solidifying into the images of seven people.

“The Augur is one of the ten divine treasures,” The God of Season’s explained. “It is powerful on its own, dangerously so. But it allows one who possesses the right tools and knowledge to predict and understand events yet to come.”

Darian peered into the pool, noticing one of the seven shapes looked just like him. “So it allows you to see the future?”

“In a sense.” The God reached into his inventory and produced a small, leather-bound tome. “But on its own, it is quite difficult to use.” He opened the tome, purple light flowing from the pages. “This is another divine relic, the Tome of Knowing. Without it, understanding the Augur with accuracy would be impossible.”

“Is this how you knew about my divine skill?”

“Yes.” He thumbed through the tome, arcane writing etched bright purple onto the pages. “I will spare you the details, but with the Augur and the tome, my mind is given information on whatever I survey. While it can’t let me know everything, it does let me keep track of anyone with divine power. I’ve been using it survey the Aspirants.” He grunted “Well, most of them.” He pointed at the pool. “Eight of you live, yet there is someone missing.”

“I noticed that.” Darian inspected the other Aspirants. Three looked human, but the other three were oddly shaped. One even had a pair of leathery wings sprouting from their back.

“My agents have searched for this missing Aspirant, and have come back to me with tales of a white haired boy in Lonelen. One who is already calling himself the ‘Lord of Light’.”

“Aurel, that is the Aspirant he serves. He wanted to recruit me into some kind of alliance.”

The God of Seasons chuckled. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you while he had the chance. But he’s always been a naive fool.” The pool shifted again, but the water struggled to form a new image. “What’s curious is the fact I can’t see this light Aspirant with the Augur, and the Tome of Knowing is coming back blank. This should be impossible.”

Darian recalled his conversation with Aurel and how the elf said there were ways to manipulate the system. But before he could share this information, the God of Seasons began violently coughing.

“Are you alright?” Darian asked, moving to the God’s side.

He waved Darian away, his left hand cradling his ribs. “There are some wounds which can never be healed, even by a God.” He straightened his back, his knuckles white against his walking staff. “But my condition means my days of fighting are behind me.”

Growing impatient, Darian decided to ask the question he had come seeking an answer for. “What is it you want from me?” He stared into the God’s eyes. It was time for him to know the real reason he was brought to the sanctuary.

“Your race, you are classified in the system as an undead.” He raised the Tome of Knowing up and inspected Darian. “And your divine skill allows you to make others into vampires.”

“You’ve said this already,” Darian reminded, starting to get a little frustrated.

“Do you recall what I said about Victoria? Raising the body of a dead God or Aspirant is impossible without the authority of a divine skill. But using divine necromancy would still leave the original soul behind. And it is in the soul that our divine powers lie.”

Darian leaned against the Augur. “Where are you going with this?”

He grinned. “To become an undead, the system will first, even if temporarily, classify you as being dead. Meaning, each person you turn into a vampire will die before becoming one.” He shuffled closer, that mad gleam back in his eyes. “And tell me, Aspirant, what must you do to ascend to godhood?”

“Kill the other Aspirants,” Darian stated.

“But what might happen if they are dead, but then revived by a divine skill? What would the system do when all are gone, and only you remain? Normally new divine power would be granted to you and you alone as the remaining Aspirant. But if the others are vampires, undead who posses souls, would they too be granted godhood?”

Darian thought about it for a moment, but could not reach a definitive answer. “I don’t know,” he finally replied.

“Neither does the system.” His face grew stern, his lips drawn into a hard line. “And that is what I want from you, Darian. To find the other Aspirants and either by force or choice, turn them into vampires.”

“But why?” Darian asked, still not sure what the God of Seasons was after. “How does that help you? What would that accomplish?”

“Everything,” he said, sadness and rage flashing across his face. “For hundreds of years people have been summoned here and forced to kill each other. Over and over, the cycle has remained unbroken. And now we face even more bloodshed. We tried to stop it once and we failed. But with your power, I see a way out.”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer. “Darian,” he said, standing tall and proud before the Aspirant of Blood. “I want you to break the system.”