Fortia stared at the images coming through the screen. A table before her, but she hadn’t paid attention to the strategic in at least an hour. It didn’t matter. Elassa had unleashed Worldbreaking and…

And now that cloud was retreating. The satellite was catching it all, the burning orange clouds had changed colours into pale greys and whites, and Kirinyaan news was reporting heavy rains beginning and to prepare for flooding. She stared at that screen in disbelief. Even with Fer and Anassa and Kassandora there, once Elassa began… How did someone just stop Elassa like that?

It had to be that Elassa had won. It had to be. It simply had to be. There was no option that she would be defeated. Fortia would not accept it. Worldbreaking was not simply ‘stopped’ once it had begun. Elassa had just killed Kassandora, Anassa and Fer. All three of them, but how did one Divine defeated both Fer and Anassa… that was the issue. Fer and Anassa were a duo that only Allasaria was powerful enough to take on. They matched each other with speed and fighting style. No matter how much Fortia tried to convince herself of it, she simply… her mind would not accept it. There was something wrong. Maybe it was the fact they were fighting Kassandora and her trickery, maybe she was only growing paranoid. But…

But she had a tremendous anvil of dread and doubt weighing down her heart. One that rung every time her heart beat against it. And that ringing was the sound of the worst thing to have happened.

A guardian rushed into the tent, out of his armour, he held his arms out and smashed into the table, knocking around maps and counters and strings and pencils and erasers. Fortia didn’t even give him permission to speak, he began shouting immediately. “OLYMPIADA! OLYMPIADA IS UNDER ATTACK!”

Iliyal spun around a corner. Olonia by his side. The vanguard ahead, the quickly-shrinking rear-guard behind him. He rushed around a corner as the air got colder. It was obvious they were heading the right way, they must be. There was a slow incline of the corridor down, minecart tracks had been laid down here, most likely to funnel back the treasures of Arascus’ Divine Armoury back to the surface.

Olonia suddenly screamed and Iliyal turned to glance at the Goddess. A crossbow bolt had pierced the weakened part of the armour, where she had taken the heavy blow from Waramunt, and now she was a leaving a thin trail of red as they raced down. “Can you regenerate?” Iliyal shouted.

“What?” She shouted back and the elf rolled his eyes. Whatever, it didn’t matter. When they survived, she could be trained.

“Leave it in then!” He shouted back, pulling it out would let the blood flow and if she couldn’t regenerate, then she’d merely drain herself of power. A roar of fire flames came from behind and Iliyal slowed down as winds rushed past him, then back again as the fires went out. He caught a glance. Mages in red and blue. Pyromancers and hydromancers. And minor Divines. Four more of them. Neither of them mattered. They had to get to the Armoury at this point. He turned his head back, ignored his own bleeding finger and kept on running.

They ran past another bend, and another, all in the same direction, as if the corridor was a slow spiral downwards. Down and down, as the gunfire behind them started to fail and grow quiet, to be replaced by the sounds of flames and crunching of ice and heavy thuds of Divines in full armour. They had to be going the right way, they simply had to be, if they weren’t, why were they being chased? Much better to not waste energy and lay siege to them in the tunnels of the fortress.

And they turned again. Iliyal heard Stalker’s voice. “SIR! THERE’S…” He trailed off as Iliyal turned the corner. Two dozen men had slowed down and were aiming their rifles, in black shirts and shorts, gleaming guns ready to fire with fingers hovering over triggers. Most of them had taken up positions to cover the rear, but five were looking through a hole that had been carved out in a dark wall. Blasted through may have been the better word, a perfectly round hole, the edges smooth and large enough for two Olonias to fit through even if they were standing on top of one another. Allasaria’s work, Iliyal knew what sort of damage her beams of light made.

“THROUGH IT! GO GO GO!” Iliyal shouted as he upped his pace, now that the end was in sight, it only fuelled him, as if a second Legion had come to assist his during a battle. The men started to pick themselves back up, some let out a burst of gunshots as the defenders of Drayim Fortress, and the reinforcements, hurried onwards.

Iliyal leapt off his feet, his undamaged hand trailing along the surface of that hole. Allasaria’s work definitely, it was so smooth there was no friction there even though he was dragging his fingers around stone bricks interlined with ancient mortar. He landed in that hole, his boots lost their grip, and he slid the whole way, only picking up speed as the air changed from merely cold to almost freezing. “GO!” He shouted, each word making a mist of air from his mouth.

And Iliyal slid the entire way, he felt the sharp edge on the other side and dropped into a roll. His feet touched stone tiles, he tasted the air and saw lights appear as men turned their flashlights on. Stalker and Baker were sliding through, then Olonia, and the rest of the men. At the end of the corridor, the Paladins tasked with protecting this place came to a stop as they looked at the whole. The four different Divines all stopped. Only the mages rushed forwards, two of Iliyal’s men were incinerated on the spot. Another was split by a stalagmite that rose from ground. A few shot back. Some of the Paladins dropped, the mages raised barriers, bullets simply bounced off the thick armour of the Divines.

But that didn’t matter now. Iliyal’s ripped a flashlight out of a man’s hand and used it to scan the room. There were podiums, statues should have been placed on those podiums, but not anymore. They were ancient defenders a long time ago, but he supposed that when the Pantheon had got here first, they cleared out a good amount of the traps. The ceiling arced high enough for a barn to fit in here, and the middle of the floor had a hole in it, one that looked as if it had been blown open. The walls were stone blocks, the ceiling was carved with inscriptions and symbols used by Arascus’ various Divines. A sword was embedded deeply into the stone of a wall. A loose shield lay in the corner.

It almost smelled like home. The air was cold and bitter, fresh wind had not travelled here for obviously a while, but… Iliyal took a step and the roar of flame woke him up from his trance. It raced through that breach and. “DIVE!” Iliyal shouted and everyone dived to the ground. Out of the hundred he had brought, twenty had made it here. The stream of fire raced overheads for a few seconds, then finally burned out. Two of the soldiers immediately took a position by the hole, rifles leaning on that smooth surface, and returned two bursts of gunfire.

“Out of ammo!” One of the men shouted. Someone threw a magazine from their vest.

“Last one! Don’t waste it.” Iliyal stood up and got all the thoughts of returning to the Divine Armoury out of his head. This was no time to get sentimental, there was a job to do. This wasn’t the main entrance, they had entered through the side. Which one though? One of the training rooms, the gap in the middle would have been one of Anassa’s or Irinika’s mines that had been activated. Maybe Olephia’s, but then Iliyal assumed there wouldn’t be a room left. He quickly moved his flashlight around and found the door on the other side.

“AROUND THE HOLE! GET TO IT! AROUND!” And so the men ran, Iliyal took the lead of the right side, Stalker took it on the left. Iliyal had a man by his side, then as the floor between the hole and the wall got thinner, the man slowed down to let Iliyal pass on first.

And Iliyal did, he raced across that thin slither of floor which remained, he turned and saw the two men at the end still holding the breach, firing off a shot every now and then, conserving ammo. His own pistol had ran out, most of the men were on their final magazine at this point. He saw Olonia almost slip and fall into that ground hole, she’d probably survive it, but from the smoothness of the edges, no one would pull her out. Iliyal turned to the door, it didn’t matter, nothing of it mattered. They were here.

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He ran to that door and pushed it open.

His eyes turned down one a long corridor, tall and wide enough for Fer and Arascus to walk straight-backed and side-by-side. There were no paintings on the walls, no swords hanging off gleaming hooks. Those were now rusted. The grand chandeliers that held up Anassa’s lamps were missing, left behind only a single chain that had been cut near the rounded ceiling. No more of those glorious scarlet carpets, the same colour as Kassandora’s eyes.

But as Iliyal looked left and right, as the flashlight explored more of it, as Olonia and a dozen men caught up to him, he wanted to cry tears of joy. It was all old and dusty, but it was exactly the same place that he had. The map of it appeared in his head immediately, they were by one of the training rooms in the western part. He turned right. “Follow me.” He said, setting off at a brisk jog.

There wasn’t any need to run now. He turned left at the first junction. A meeting of four corridors. Right was Fer’s section, that would be empty or rotted, the Goddess of Beasthood kept little for treasure. Straight ahead would be the long corridor to Baalka’s domain, left of that was Anassa’s. They weren’t going to visit either of them today. Left. To Arascus’ section.

Iliyal ran and ran until he came to a spot he knew, one where the corridor seemingly ended in a wall of darkness. Irinika and Anassa had built this one, the Divine Armoury was as much a testing grounds for new techniques as it was a safe haven for Arascus’ followers back then. “Shoes off!” Iliyal bent down and started unlacing his boots. He turned to his men, a few had responded immediately. Olonia and several others were simply looking at him in confusion. “TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF!” He shouted and woke up them. “SOCKS TOO! IT’S BAREFOOT ONLY!”

It was a simple trap. An endless hole, truly an endless one. Anassa had somehow joined two mirrors together, one in the ceiling and one on the floor. Once you started falling, you did not stop unless someone caught you. Iliyal had been thrown into it twice. He stood up, black boots with his socks stuffed inside and took an easy step into that nothingness.

Darkness from all sides enveloped him, the only slivers of light came from the ends at each corridor. His feet touched a layer of black darkness, and he kept on moving. Kassandora had once told him to not worry about what the material was, that she didn’t care herself. So neither would Iliyal, he raced down that corridor and jumped to the other side, then turned around to see his men still standing at the other side, in awe as to how he had just ran through nothing.

“RUN! RUN!” Iliyal’s voice boomed an order. “I WILL NOT WAIT FOR FOOLS AND COWARDS! IF I TELL YOU TO RUN OFF A CLIFF, I EXPECT YOU TO BE FALLING BY THE TIME I FINISH!” That got them moving. One man took a step, Olonia’s blue eyes monitored him as he plunged a toe onto the darkness. His foot found resistance, he put his weight on it, the man took a heavy breath, closed his eyes, and stepped.

And that unleashed the floodgates, the whole team of two dozen were suddenly running through the darkness as Iliyal finished lacing his boots. That was the only trap of this kind here, it could be avoided by taking another route, but the fact it had been activated in the first place meant the base had been scouted out. He assumed the Paladins would know the trick, if they didn’t, they’d have a few minutes of advantage over them.

Olonia yelped at the end and jumped into the large stone corridor. It was empty here. Rusty hooks on walls, marble and slate tiles on the ground, some were cracked. Thick blocks made up the walls. This part had been looted too. Iliyal started to walk off as his men finished lacing up their boots. He turned left at the first bend, then immediately right. Ahead six skeletons lying on the ground. “Do not go there.” He shone at the light at the small incline in the floor, a mere dip, it would be hard to notice if the edges of the stone blocks weren’t there.

“Why not?” Olonia asked. She had caught up and shone her own torch at the skeletons.

“Heavier than air poison, don’t touch it, it pierces skin.” He turned and walked off. Up in Drayim, it was a race to not get caught. Now though, it would be better to take things slow, he knew this place, but the men and Olonia did not. The men could be lost, but the death of a national Divine… Well, Kassandora would expect better of him frankly. “Turn around.” He stopped and shone the light on Olonia. She merely looked at him, blue eyes curious, then turned around. The crossbow bolt was still stuck in her back, it was red but the bleeding had stopped. “You don’t know if you regenerate or not?” Iliyal asked.

“I think I do?” She said nervously. “But…” She trailed off. “To your standards, I don’t know.”

“You do.” Iliyal said. “Not as strongly as Fer does, but you regenerate, most nationals do.” She had to, otherwise she would still be bleeding by now. “Hands on the wall.” Olonia did as instructed. Iliyal grabbed the bolt and pulled it out in one smooth movement. He had never been a fan of countdowns, Olonia’s scream as the bolt pulled and tore strands of muscle. The blood started to flow again, but Iliyal saw her skin start to regrow. She was fast too, faster than he had expected. “You’re loud, grit your teeth next time.” Iliyal said, it was his mistake, he wouldn’t beat her over the head with it. Most likely the Paladins would have heard her, the Divines definitely did, but he should have known she would scream.

“I…” She swayed from side to side as the wound closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you can’t un-scream.” Iliyal said and turned. “Just don’t do it next time.”

“Thank you.” Olonia said as Iliyal set off, frankly, he didn’t know what she was thanking him for. He merely whipped his hand through the air to get her blood off.

This corridor led to the prison and Arascus’ section. If the corridor had been looted, so would the God of Pride’s private quarters, and they weren’t for keeping anyone in. He took a breath, gripped his sheathed sword, and took careful steps forwards.

And it was for nothing. There should be defenders, ancient moving statues infused with souls by Neneria, but they were missing. The only trace of their existence were the mists of breath. Iliyal walked down the corridor, turned around and saw a flash of light in the distance. A paladin torch, they were faster than he had expected. “I don’t like this place.” Olonia said quietly, her eyes downcast and looking down at the feet as if she was afraid to explore it with her vision.

“This place is the safest place on Arda when I’m here.” Iliyal commented a few of the men chuckled.

“Ooh-rah to that.” Baker said in his gruff voice from behind. Iliyal merely smiled as he reached the door at the end. It slid open without any resistance. Dwarves knew how to make hinges. He took a breath and held it open, then let the men travel through. A lone Paladin appeared at the end of the corridor, out of breath and almost falling over.

“THEY’RE HE-“ A bullet to the head from one of the silenced him. The man who shot pressed the trigger again. It merely clicked.

“I’m out.”

“Just get inside.” Iliyal counted the men as they walked past him. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty one. Twenty one and Olonia. He himself made twenty two. He let the door swing shut as his torches traversed the various cages and cell doors. There had been great beasts kept here too. Hydras and snakes and basilisks for testing purposes. Not anymore, he supposed. He heard footsteps from behind the door, the heavy thuds of Divines in their armour.

But Iliyal did not care. From inside, there was movement. A pale hand, a moving black image of a blade embedded in the skin, waved from within. “Who is it?” A pleasant voice, haughty and mighty, but pleasant none the less. Although from the expressions on the troops, maybe it was only pleasant to Iliyal.

“It’s me.” Iliyal said, his voice echoed throughout the cells. The door slammed. It would only open to those allowed, but after a thousand years, Iliyal wasn’t willing to test if Anassa’s enchantments still held their strength.

The hand retreated and stopped waving. “Tremali?” The woman from within asked.

A man’s voice sounded from the cell next to hers. “It’s him, I’d remember him.” Iliyal remembered him too.

“Long time.” Another woman, high-pitched this time.

“So?” The first cell asked as Iliyal walked past the cages. “We’re back?” Upon hearing those words, another two of the cells burst out in laughter. The whole prison started to shriek in joyous mirth as faces appeared at the cell doors. Iliyal stopped in the middle.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” Iliyal shouted as he scanned those faces. Nostalgia. It was a delicious cake dripping with nostalgia. The door pounded again. More Divines trying to break through. They should have brought Allasaria. They should have brought Maisara. Or Fortia. Or anyone frankly. But petty fortress Divines? Inventions? A few mages? That cake was being served with a side of victory. “We are indeed, ever so back.”

He had planned to use explosives as first to bust one of the cells at first, then use that to break the others. But then, plans were worthless, plans changed as soon as operations began. He bowed to his men and to Olonia, both arms extended to one of the doors.

“Olonia, the honours are yours.”

To think the Pantheon had locked them all away in one spot.

With only twenty two mortals…

They had more than enough for one each.