With the immortal leaving, the rest of the spawn stopped charging out of the ravine. Riten met up with the others back in the orc camp. The wounded were taken to be treated further, and the dead were lined up. Large pyres were being built to burn their corpses on.

Trillia sat alone and stared at the bodies, her knees to her chest. A few people had tried to speak to her, and she just ignored them.

In her mind, there wasn't a victory in sight. She could help Arlyss, sure. Maybe they could even save some people from the [Primordials]. But was that the sum of it all? Was that the mortal destiny?

Maybe help some people and get old and powerful enough to turn bitter to all of the death and destruction around you?

Trillia didn't want that.

As the bodies were carried off to be burned, Tormash gave a speech. It was all just background noise to her as she watched the procession. It wasn't until Stas sat next to her that anything stirred inside.

"How could you ally with that thing?" She whispered the words as tears formed in her eyes. Turning her head slightly to stare hard at the goblin.

Stas sat there and stared at the burning pyres for a while before answering. "I watched my great, great, great-grandchildren get butchered by orcs. I watched their parents get butchered by humans. I stopped getting married and having children because goblin lives are so, so very short."

The goblin didn't look at her, only stared ahead at the flames. "I wanted to change that. I wanted to make sure that goblins weren't just there to be butchered by stronger races that had more longevity."

Trillia opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. As she thought about his words, she realized their outlooks weren't so different. "Is it possible? To stop mortals from being toys?" She turned from Stas to the flames.

The goblin stayed motionless as he stared ahead. "I don't know. I think...I think by the time we aren't toys. We are like Queen Alliyah. Mortal in name only. For as warm and kind as she is to her own people...she is still as ruthless as they come."

Stas turned his gaze from the pyres to his hands, his voice a whisper on the winds. "I think to protect those you care about. You have to turn into the monsters you hate."

Trillia blinked some tears away and sniffled, rubbing her eyes roughly with her one good hand. "It's not fair. It's not fair that we all work so hard and suffer so much. Just to be so casually slaughtered for the amusement of a creature like that."

Stas nodded slightly before closing his eyes. "I wish I had a better answer for you, young Trillia. I wish I could tell you that things would be alright. That it gets better. But if it does...I haven't gotten there yet."

"No. I am grateful that at least one person is honest with me. That at least one person isn't telling me it all goes away as I get older. If I can help you in finding a way to make mortals...more than we currently are. I will." Trillia looked over at the goblin once more.

Stas opened his eyes and extended a hand to shake hers. "I'll keep up with my research. Find a way to augment mortals without turning them into abominations. We'll make enemies doing this. I just want to warn you of that. You're young. You still have time to blend in and accept fate."

Trillia squeezed his hand harder and fought back more tears. Turning from him to the pyre. "Mon'tag didn't deserve to be butchered for fun. Your descendants didn't deserve to be killed. We'll find a way, Uncle."

As she let go of his hand, he nodded once more. Standing and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're a noble orc, young Trillia. The tribe should be happy to have you representing it to the realm. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you against my old teacher."

Trillia sniffled again and shook her head. "It's not your place to save us all the time. I don't want to constantly rely on others for saving. I have gifts that others don't. I've been lazy and lax in my desire for power, and it cost me a dear friend. I can't let it cost me any more people close to me. I'll keep pushing Red River until Lord Arlyss is ready for me to resume my work."

Stas nodded and began to walk away. He paused and looked back at her. "Instead of seeking another mortal for advice. Remember your ability. As a warning, whenever you're dealing with a creature beyond mortal understanding. Be specific in your requests. It is a favorite pastime of the immortals to toy with us."

Trillia nodded again but remained silent. She sat there and watched the pyres burn down into ash. She saw her friends and family watching her from afar. The thought of it being Tormash or Ralrouk on one of those pyres turned her stomach.

She stood and walked to her tent, closing the flaps and sitting in the center of it.

"Fountain of Lethe. Guide my mind, show me a path for the mortals that saves us from this fate. Show me a way to grow stronger without the sacrifice of my mortality or my tribe."

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Trillia began chanting it to herself, as she had many times before. She felt her experience tighten. Felt her mana slowly drain. She, once more, sat on the edge of the universe, surrounded by stars and staring into oblivion. The eye opened once more and stared at her. The fear she had felt before wasn't there. Instead, it had been replaced by a simmering anger.

It was as if she was challenging the eye of Lethe.

Her mind was peeled away, and visions began to swarm into her mind. Whispers and promises of power followed. She saw war after war transpire in seconds. Saw realms where there were no mortals and realms where there were no immortals. All of her visions ended in war.

Immortal against immortal.

Mortal against mortal.

Never-ending wars.

In every vision, the weak were ruled by the strong, whether that was immortals or stronger mortals. It didn't matter. The weak were forever underfoot.

Her vision twisted and turned, and she saw the universe in all its glory. Saw it from the perspective of Lethe, who sat at its edge. A giant whirlpool of stars slowly ascended further and further away from a brilliant ball of energy at its base. Three massive cosmic entities were evenly spaced in the center going up. Each, in turn, looked over at Lethe briefly.

The bodies of energy twitched and pulsed. Realms were born, and others shattered.

Suddenly it all vanished. There was only oblivion left. Trillia stared into the eye, and the realization hit her that there was no end. That fate couldn't be subverted. She spoke into the empty abyss. "I don't want to be a toy anymore. I don't want to let people run rampant over the weak. There has to be a way!" She argued with oblivion itself.

As usual, oblivion answered.

Her mind was flooded with more vision, more rapidly than before. Information on enemies and classes. On skills and their evolutions. Through it all, a single word stood out to her. Ascension.

It was then that something most unexpected happened. A hand grabbed Trillia's shoulder and pulled her from Lethe's gaze. She sat in what the humans called a tavern. Quaint wooden stools and a well-polished oak countertop. She was vaguely aware of other people around her, talking in all manner of speech about all manner of things.

In front of her stood a wizened old orc with bright orange wings. Wisdom that rivaled even Lethe shimmered in his eyes. "It's a dangerous game that you court. Young Demonsbane."

Trillia blinked a few times and looked around. She found that she couldn't move off of the barstool. Suddenly the smell of honey and freshly baked bread filled her nostrils. As she looked in front of her, she found freshly made food and a cold glass of liquid, a pale yellow color with a slightly sour smell. "What is this?"

The man leaned against the bar counter after tossing a rag onto his shoulder. "Call it... A way station. A place for souls that aren't sure where they belong. Or where they want to belong. A place where you meet friends of old and friends anew. The creature that you question is a dangerous one. I was asked to pull you away from it by the All-Father." That last name sounded familiar. She had heard it before but had never understood the language.

"Who is that? Why is it so dangerous to question my fate?" Trilla pressed on. Despite the smell of the food for once, she wasn't distracted.

The man thought about it before answering. "The All-Father is to the Universe what young Darktone is to Alirast. It's called the All-Father because that is easy for mortals to understand. In reality, it is nothing more than a giant entity made of pure energy and power. It creates things to amuse itself."

"If it is so strong, why does it care what one orc does?"

That got a chuckle out of the bartender. The more he spoke, the more she trusted him. It felt like the most natural thing in all creation to trust him and be comfortable around him. "It has seen what a single creature, driven by primal needs, can do. The last time such a creature was underestimated, the second axle was replaced."

Trillia paused and stared at him. Once more, she glanced around at the others. It seemed no matter how many times she looked at a location, there were different people there having a different conversation. "Is it truly possible? For a mortal to do so much?"

The bartender chuckled and set another plate of food in the chair next to her. After a few seconds, another orc materialized next to her. This one with bright blue eyes and silver hair. Six wings on its back, no two alike. She felt an overwhelming familiarity with it. The bartender nodded and motioned to Trillia. "Mind if I tell her of your childhood?"

The other orc looked at her with a warm smile before taking a long drink of the pale yellow liquid. When it spoke, Trillia was battered by a hundred different buffs and notifications. All of which failed to answer her summons be read and slowly slinked away. "By all means, Lord Blade. I'll have more lemonade as well."

The bartender nodded, and the glass slowly refilled. Turning back to Trillia. "I'll give you two options, young lady. Have your meal, enjoy it. I'll place you back in front of Lethe so that you may listen to its siren calls for power. Or listen to a tale of a mortal that clawed its way to being more than a plaything. Either way, you can feel free to eat. You're safe here, and we have all the time in the world to talk."

Trillia looked at both orcs and realized that neither were actually orcs. That this was the same effect that the other deities had on her. "If I can see what you actually look like. I'll listen to your story. Thank you for the food."

The bartender nodded. The orcish visage faded, and she saw what looked like an old human standing there. The same bright orange wings. Eyes that had no color in them. Just blank white orbs. He wore a simple cloth tunic and the same bar rag on his shoulder. His skin somewhere between grey and white.

The creature to her side had changed drastically. A giant sat next to her, space warped oddly to make him 'fit' in the space. Pale blue skin with glowing green veins pulsing through the muscle. Two heads sat on his shoulders, one a fair elven male with long flowing ears, brilliant blue eyes, and silver hair. The other was a twisted lion's maw with razor-sharp teeth, a golden mane, and blood-red eyes.

Most startling was that his entire body was covered in the runes of pact-bound creatures. Thousands of scars etched deep into his flesh from old pacts that no longer glowed. On his back, the same six wings sat present, four feathered wings of white, black, blue, and red, one bat-like wing, and one wing that seemed made of crystal.

Trillia nodded to each of them. "Trillia Demonsbane, a pleasure to meet you both. I'll listen to that story now, Lord Blade." As she said it, she took a bite of the bread and found it to be perfectly warm, with warm honey drizzled on top of it. The bartender smiled once more.

"It started with his birth."