Most Abstracts make for weak divines. There is little foundation one can build with something like ‘Gluttony’. Galrond is merely an excellent chef who wishes to eat. Neither our White Pantheon nor Arascus’ Empire can make much use of a being like that.

For every million failures Abstracts produce though, they make one genius. Whereas I am of Light, I am not an Abstract unlike my sister. Light is measurable and quantifiable. Darkness is merely the absence of light, yet it invokes fear. It’s a terrible power which is ever-present in our world. Pride, I’ve written about extensively already.

Leona though is of Luck. Darkness and Pride can, at the very least, be described. Luck is indescribable, Leona herself does not know how her powers work, or maybe she does and simply can’t explain. She’ll simply get a sign that a decision should be thought about, or maybe a passing thought which refuses to leave her mind. She can sense when something terrible is about to strike. It’s a cursed power, bringing her no gain and only pain.

I feel sorry for her.

- Excerpt from the secrets texts in the White Pantheon’s closed library. Written by Goddess Allasaria, Of Light: ‘The Nature of Divinity’.

Arascus stopped again as he turned to look at the party behind him, half were elves, the rest were humans. The fact there was no dwarves didn’t surprise him, a dwarf had endurance for hiking but the short legs were a detriment to speed. He could not fly anymore, that was disappointing, although it was natural that his powers would fade as his influence dimmed. They had taken two days to trek out of Baalka’s poisoned land. The drill had been left behind next to the Godstone cube, there was no way to bring it over rugged terrain and it would only risk the chance of discovery. Apparently this was called the ‘Quarantine Zone’.

Every single night, Arascus himself would watch over his followers to make sure no one accidently walked past them. He had felled two dozen wild animals already. The White Pantheon’s Luck was limitless, if he could imagine a scenario where he failed, then he was sure it would happen. With Leona’s Luck, a rat would stumble across them, see him, then meet a travelling beast-speaker the next day and reveal he was free.

“We are here.” Sara had been a great help over the past few days. She had filled him in on how the world had changed. Ships were now built of steel, cities of more than a million were rather common, great machinations called planes flew in the sky. The nations were all new, apparently a whole host of new Gods have appeared, although Arascus did not really pay them any mind, it was obvious that was going to be the case by the time she even mentioned it. Inventions were always prideful and grand and haughty until they weren’t needed. Then they merely faded away. Back in his time, there existed a God of Windmills and a Goddess of the Loom. Now, he was sure there was some God of Planes.

He had asked about his various daughter Goddesses, none of them were inventions. Irinika would never fade away as she was the incarnation of Darkness, Neneria was of Death so she was just as eternal. Kassandora was the one he was worried most about. The White Pantheon had ceased the art of warfare, renaming anything that could even be considered a skirmish to an ‘honourable conflict.’ Apparently when nations had disputes, they would compete in arenas to a crowd to decide who won. What a farce. War was eternal. If two people had a disagreement, they were at war, whether they knew it or not.

The only thing which was similar was the technology of warfare. They still used sword and shield, spear and bow. That had actually regressed, muskets had existed back in the day. The White Pantheon personally went around and put a stop to anything which could serve as a tool of warfare. That had made him smile, the spear was for hunting before it was for killing, the club was a hammer used against men. The sword was merely a sharpened club. They had explosives for mining, but apparently didn’t realise that if it worked against stone, it would work against men. Even with these planes. How difficult would it be to remodel them into something that could defeat air-cavalry?

The worst though was this Waeh. Even the name was pathetic. A God of Serving-Pride? It practically made his blood boil, the fact natural human instinct had been subverted to such an extent was downright shameful. Esperanism, his religion, was merely chains slaves would willingly put on themselves. Luckily though, everyone in the party agreed on that. Sara most of all.

“We’re almost there.” Sara said. She was a beautiful woman, with cold dark eyes and dark hair. Tall too, Arascus had stolen more than a few glances at her once she finally got out of the hazmat suit.

“There’s nothing here.”

“We can’t afford to be open about our activities.” Sara replied, took a pause and then explained further. “This is our headquarters, everyone here is someone who was raised in the cult.”

“Do you not accept members?”

“Not to our headquarters. We work under the assumption that most of the cells are compromised.”

“That’s how I led the war back in the day. It’s impressive you survived for so long.”

“We’re not worthy of the complement My Lord.” This side of Sara, Arascus had grown used to over the past two weeks. The woman was all-business, and then she’d come out with a statement like this.

“Do you know why you do that?”

“It’s always been this way.” Arascus smiled. So the foundations he had laid were sturdy enough to last a thousand years. That was rather good, other people would call it luck, but he didn’t believe in luck.

Fer lay down after dinner, her dark brown hair, better described as a mane, was thick enough to serve as a pillow. Wild game was the best in the world, sleep after food was the second best thing in the world. A darkfur came and knelt before her. A beastman with a goat’s head and ravenous teeth that spilled out of his jaw. His fur was the colour of slate, his eyes redder than blood. “Did you feel it pack master?”

“The change in the air?” Fer smelled the air again. Everyone in the pack felt it. It was odd, as if the winds had changed but there was no way she could really describe the difference. The closest sensation was that of when a storm or an earthquake was about to happen, animals simply… knew.

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“Yes. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know.” Fer replied. “But it’s not a bad sign.”

- Somewhere in the Eastern Tundra, 1024PGW.

Arascus watched people flood around a table. He had largely skipped the procedure of a grand welcome, there wasn’t any hall to do it in anyway. The cultists instantly knew he was a God, and if he was here, he would have to be the God they worshipped. They knelt through the underground corridors as he passed them by. “Are you sure you don’t want a party?” Sara asked for the tenth time today.

“Do you celebrate the sunrise?” Arascus asked.

“No.”

“Then why celebrate me? We’ll sooner have an eternal night than my death.” That seemed to finally shut her up. “Is this an ancient dwarf hold?”

“No.”

“Mmh.” ‘No’ was the answer to most of Arascus’ questions. It was odd to be out of the loop but he had gone through this exact procedure when he first formed. How much could people really change after a millennia? They would wear different clothes, style their hair in new fashions, drive cars instead of horses, but beyond that people were still the same. The fact he still existed meant that even though all the races of Arda had donned new attire, their hearts were the same.

Sara had lead him down through a brightly-lit corridor. That was another change, the lights were bright, lifeless and cold. They shone strong but they were nothing like the magical lamps of the past, nor even like candles. There was no carpets nor decorations. It was something akin to a military camp rather than a headquarters. The woman was still dressed in her travelling clothes, Arascus did not want to waste any time whatsoever now that he was back. If there was anything his pride was, it was impatient.

“This is the war room.” Sara had said as she pulled out a card from the inside of her coat and swiped it along a pad next to the door. The next moment, it split down the middle and retreated into the walls. Arascus felt no magic from the mechanism, odd, but he was used to it at this point. All the doors in the headquarters were like this.

The room had a large circular table in the middle. Banners of the ancient legions hung on the walls. Beyond that, there was a sword on the wall. That was the first magical item he had found, although it was merely a paladin’s blade from the Great War. Apart from that, the room was empty and lifeless. “I see your leadership is rather punctual.” Arascus said slowly.

“We maintain radio silence when we’re outside, there was no way for me to contact them in advance.” Sara explained. She had talked of this radio too, a device which could send voice and video immediately over large distances. Arascus didn’t know how to feel on that, on one hand, it was useful, on the other, if the White Pantheon had radios back in the day, he would have been defeated in a third of the time.

“Call everyone important here.” Arascus said as he looked at the seats around the round table. They were all high backed, with wheels on the bottom and fashioned of black leather. One of them was too large for a man, too large even for an elf. It was on the opposite end of the room, facing the entrance. It was obviously the one made for him. He went and sat down.

“I am in charge of recruitment, Sara Daganhoff.” Sara said. “This is the head engineer, Mikhail Alash. He was the one in charge of the Godcracker Drill.”

“Mikhail, sit, Sara, go fetch everyone.”

It was time to see what state his little cult was in.

Five minutes later, the man arrived. An elf who introduced himself as Ilwin, surnamed Tremali although Mikhail had told him the only two elven families here were Tremali and Olpho. Those names Arascus actually recognised, both had their ancestors serve as generals of different armies a thousand years. “At your service my lord.” Ilwin said as he knelt. He was dressed in a black suit, with golden hair and green eyes, Arascus could see the resemblance between him and Iliyal Tremali, the general who had led the eighth army in the months prior to the defeat. To think the man had children…

“Stand and take your seat, what is your position?”

“Head of special operations.” Ilwin said as he sat off not too far from Arascus. “Two hundred, thirty eight years of age, it is a blessing to finally meet you.” Arascus merely gave him a nod, pointless flattery was pointless.

“How many members do we have?”

“The headquarters has two thousand, the outer branches have about two hundred thousand.”

“Impressive.”

“We are split amongst many nations of the Epan Continent, and then we have twelve branches in Union territories.”

“Union?”

“The UNN, Union of New Nations, the continent was discovered five hundred years ago, it lies west of Alanktyda.” Alanktyda was the ocean west of Epa. Arascus nodded, back then, they had thought they were the only grand landmass on Arda. How things have changed…

Next came a human, Rickard Narma. The man in charge of finance in the cult. He had brown hair, wore a suit of the same style as Ilwin and had blue eyes. His face was shaved smoothed as if he had just prepared for this meeting. Shorter than Ilwin by a foot, shorter than Arascus by three. He knelt on both knees before Arascus. “Rise and sit.” Arascus said once the man finished with his flattery.

So it went, a human or an elf would come in, introduce themselves. State their names and then finish with some comment along the lines of “I am not worthy of this honour” or “Praise the risen God.” Arascus wasn’t impressed.

Sara came back eventually, she had changed too. The camouflaged clothes had been swapped out for a black and white suit. The top two buttons of her white were undone to reveal a pretty cleavage, she had reddened her lips and darkened her eyelashes with makeup. “This one greets the-“.

“Did I ask you to change?” The room was silent before, no one would dare make a comment before their God when they weren’t aware of his character. Sara looked up, her eyes wide. For the first time in two weeks, Arascus saw some sort of genuine emotion in them: Fear. He had been pleasant enough before, he could forgive some slips here and there due to her excitement and exhaustion from the hike, but not when they were in a meeting.

“I apologiz-“

“Words are wind, don’t bother.” Arascus said coldly, the temperature in the room seemed to drop and the silence flooded in: people even held their breathes as the God’s aura resonated through them. “Rise, fix your shirt and sit. Have some pride.” No one had impressed him so far, Mikhail was the only sort of character who could even be compared to a member of his previous court and the man was only an engineer. Arascus had no damn clue how they managed to survive for a millennia if this was the sort of talent they were working with.

Sara’s cheeks flushed a crimson in embarrassment as she quickly did up the two buttons. To think the woman would have the gall to try and seduce a God! Who did she think she was? She sat close to Arascus and awkwardly avoided eye contact. “Who is the last seat?” Arascus asked. No one had the decency to respond.

“The Sect Captain, sir.” Ilwin spoke up after a long silence. Great. So even the leader was useless! Fantastic! Amazing! Arascus leaned back as he answered back.

“When I ask a question, I expect a response immediately. I will not kill you for being wrong, I will kill you for being useless.” Suddenly, laughter filled the room from the outside. If the atmosphere among these people was cold before, now it had plunged below freezing. Arascus saw them exchange terrified and nervous glances, only his face was different. The laugh was recognised instantly and the corners of his lips turned up.

An elf appeared through the door. Unlike everyone else, he did not walk, he strode. He wore a suit like the rest of them but that was where the similarities ended. Around his shoulders hung a red cloak outlined in gold. He was the only man armed, a blade resonating with ancient sorceries hung off his belt. That sword was both the only weapon and the only magic in the entire room. He had pale hair and green eyes, wrinkles on his forehead and a beaming smile on his face. His dark boots tapped the floor with every step, proudly exclaiming the advance of their wearer. He stood at the end of the table, met Arascus’ gaze and pulled a salute the God thought he would never see again. “Captain Tremali reporting, Sir.”

Arascus smiled as the questions in his mind were all answered. Iliyal Tremali, General of the Eighth Army of the Empire. Trained by Arascus personally, of course he could lead a rebellious sect against the White Pantheon.