Interlude.

The Death Lord's smile

"Welcome."

A calm, muffled voice. But laden with an abiding vitality unusual for what was a dark shadow moving among the gloom of the dark night.

"Don't be afraid ... I won't hurt you," as if reading my thoughts, the God of Death approached me, the soundlessness of his footsteps creeping into my mind. "Why are you here?" He asked, moved by genuine curiosity, almost childlike in its candor.

I thought about what to answer, realizing that there was no simple way out of that situation. Yet there was no agitation.

"I...," The hood of the robe he wore slipped off, a creepy face whose decaying, worn skin showed the horror of an unknown fear, ready to drag me with it into an astral world beyond the stars where reason gave way to madness.

I begged my legs to stay still, but it was like asking a river to stop flowing. For a star to stop shining. For the sun to cease the emission of heat. Unthinkable.

"Excuse me," The God who brings an end to all things concealed his features again under his robes, now only a pair of twinkling red eyes crackled beyond the dimness. "Sometimes I forget the effect my appearance has on ordinary people. Or maybe I am simply hopeful that one day I can say goodbye to these clothes that hide me from the outside world."

An unpleasant feeling gripped my heart. Guilt. For letting my weaknesses bring sadness to the one who was my savior. My guardian.

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," my head lowered, remembering the respect due. I prayed -to whom, if my God was there with me? - that my insult would be forgiven. That time would rewind and we would return to the beginning, erasing my mistake forever. "Forgive the insolence of this wretched woman. If your wrath must be appeased, I am ready to accept my punishment."

"Get up," I felt something caress my shoulders. Skeletal fingers that had paused just as they were about to touch me, then quickly retracted with a rush of shame. "You don't need to apologize."

There was warmth in his voice, an unwarranted affection for an inferior being. I was relieved.

An unexpected nostalgia was growing in me. The image of my father, whom I thought I had forgotten after long years had buried the memory of him in a deep well I dare not to open, began to appear in my mind.

"This humble servant thanks her lord for the generosity shown," only now that my figure assumed a straight position did my robe attract the attention of the Immortal God.

"You are one of them," he noted. "What do you call yourselves? Cardinals?"

"That is correct, my lord," in my pride, I had thought that my position was known to those I worshiped. He imparted to me a lesson in humility that I would not forget as long as I lived. "We are the voice of the Gods. When you whisper, we shout. The vessel through which your teachings are not lost or forgotten. When you command, we sacrifice. Our life is only a tool with which to accomplish your purposes. When you are sad, we weep. May our tears connect us so as to alleviate the suffering you feel for having been banished in this world."

I recited my mantra, my strength, to the one who had infused it with meaning.

He turned away, as if unbearable pain crushed him on the spot, and then signaled for me to follow him.

We began to move around the room, the memories of the other Gods were watching us as judges waiting to deliver their verdict. I had fabricated a story, where they had ascended to a plane we mortals could not comprehend, yet part of me believed they were still there, unseen, ready to end every injustice that plagued their nation.

Hope? Or delusion?

"Look," he pointed to a window, from which it was possible to lay eyes on the outside world. "What do you see?"

The streets, deserted, held nothing remarkable to my imagination. Taken by despondency, I believed that this was evidence of which I could not glimpse the concealed meaning.

"I see nothing, my lord," the truth was the only option left. Pleading that my foolishness would not be mistaken for irreverence, I returned the focus of my gaze to my God. "Why do you ask me this?"

"What do you think I see?" How could I answer that question? There were no right answers. Blasphemy, just venturing to believe that I was able to grasp a pinch of what were the enigmas of a thought that shaped the universe.

"The future," I tried to answer. "The infinite possibilities unfolding before us. A dream cloaked in hope for the well-being of the Theocracy." He did not sound very convinced. "Or the past. The goal achieved after years of bleeding sacrifices."

"That's certainly an answer," a light laugh, as pleasant as the sound of calm waves in the morning. "But it does not correspond to the truth."

Unfazed by my mistake, I trudged out a sincere apology.

"I see what you see. No more, no less," another test to pass? Confusion increased. "First you couldn't answer, but then you found the courage to speak. Do you know why?"

I shook my head, embarrassed by my ignorance.

"You humans cannot unleash your potential unless you are sure there is some higher entity watching you," he had turned away from the window and returned to the center of the room to sit on a worn chair. "Now that your Gods are gone you have found some stratagem to preserve the normalcy you have so strenuously achieved, lest your castle collapse like sand dunes during the desert storm."

"We are not left alone. You stayed with us, my lord."

"Yes," there was an all too human loneliness in that voice, broken by weaknesses and precariousness not befitting a superior being. Not befitting him. "At least for the time being..."

That he also intended to leave us? To rejoin his comrades?

The God of Death, the lord of darkness and the bringer of the end to all things, was just a tired man who missed his affections. So mundane as to be profound. Or perhaps my impressions were distorted by preconceptions from which I could not detach myself.

Left alone in that tower that had been built around him, raised so high as to touch the sky. However, for his captive was only an empty tomb, in which the only hope was to rot in eternity.

"Please," seeing him so sad made me sad, too. I could not refrain from voicing my thoughts. "Don't abandon us!"

Was it selfishness on my part? How could a pathetic human like me dare to plead with a God? Unmindful of my sin, I knew I would pay for my mistake. But at that moment it didn't matter.

"What is your name?" The expectations of eternal torment that I thought would be imposed on me were unfulfilled. Instead, I found myself having to respond to something unexpected.

"Elisa," my name had nothing special, common to so many others. What it meant; I didn't know. "This is not the first time we have met. Although I was only a child at the time."

"Oh," no wonder he didn't recognize me. My now adult and wrinkled body showed signs of an old woman. The stupid child of the time was no more, replaced by weariness and regrets. "I can't say I remember you."

A pang in my chest. I was aware that he did not remember me. Yet I could not hold back that gloom that dampened my soul.

"I'm not surprised," I tried to remain calm and impassive. Ah, what a shame if a woman of my age had externalized such childish emotions. "My lord, do you remember an uncultivated expanse and beastly men chasing refugees? I was there at the time."

A light illuminated his face. "Yes, I think I remember. You are the child of that day."

Only then did I realize how long I had been waiting for that encounter. A clarifying realization dispelled my uncertainties.

That day, I was saved. Not only from earthly death but also from spiritual one.

Surshana, the God of Death, had given meaning to my pathetic life. By providing me with a purpose, he had brought hope to a little lost child, rekindling the spark of life in me.

"I'm glad you remembered me," something moist brushed my cheeks. Tears. Foolishly, I looked pathetic. I wanted to hide, not to show him my weaknesses.

"There's no need to cry," he approached me again. This time I did not let my fears get the better of me. I allowed his rangy fingers to wipe away my tears. There was a strange warmth in them, almost paternal. For a moment I thought that my father himself had come back to life, so that he could protect me once again.

In writing these words, I wonder if mine were not crazy impressions, but inexplicable truths. We did not know where the Gods had come from, after so many years it remains an inscrutable mystery. Perhaps my father and others had found a way to ascend to powers that were precluded to ordinary mortals. Or perhaps I still remained that frightened child who wanted nothing more than to hug her father one last time.

A sweet lie I was telling myself to cope with a pain I had never accepted.

Now that I am about to cross the last threshold, I can say that I prefer to believe in that sweet lie. The truth is more bitter.

We stayed together for a few more minutes, until a voice familiar to me woke us from our warmth.

"Master, is this human disturbing you?" The speaker had been the First Disciple, spokesman for the will of the God in those years. Seeing them side by side, I realized how striking their similarity was.

"No, Rufus. No need for you to worry," they looked like father and son. One, upright and solemn. The other, hanging on his lips, waiting for an order. "Cardinal Elisa had only decided to keep me company on this starless night."

"I see," Rufus looked at me as intensely as one looks at a hated enemy. I felt crushed by that overwhelming pressure; had it not been for Surshana's presence I would have begun to fear for my own safety. "But the hour has grown late. Don't you think it's time to retire, Cardinal?"

He did not give me time to answer. Rufus began to escort me out of the room. If Surshana's touch was unexpectedly gentle and warm, his disciple's was cold and ghostly. Perhaps the appellation God of Death would have been more appropriate for Rufus than for Surshana.

"Before I leave, let me pay my respects," having arrived at the door, my body stretched out on my knees to show its devotion. "If I could be of service, do not hesitate to request my services."

"I will," an enigmatic expression peeped out on his rarefied face. Call me stupid, but I like to believe it was a smile, however barely discernible. "Now go, my child."

Those were the last words I heard him utter, at least until this moment.

Thus ended my second and final encounter with the God of Death.

Life continued with its natural course. It didn't take long for my body to reach its limit. I left my duties to a new generation, younger and more promising than I had ever been.

My strength is beginning to leave me, but I do not tremble at the end. For I know that when the time comes, I can meet him again, one last time.

Chapter 29

Bloody Crown

?

An empty throne. A royal hall too large for the few people in it.

A boy in the center. Little more than a child, his hands are stained with blood. The stained-glass window on the ceiling reflects a blue light, edged with a teal that imparts its grace with calm force, bathing the young man in a soothing aura, in stark antithesis to the viciousness of the scene.

At his feet, the corpse of one of his kind. The body is contorted into an agonizing position, begging a plea for mercy that never came.

Screams of astonishment. A handful of soldiers burst into the royal hall. They see the scene. There is no time for them to process what is happening. Their ruler on the ground, deceased. Their queen, what remains of her, on the wall, splattered. Concubines and ministers scream for help.

The boy remains in his place. The chaos that ensues seems natural to him. He reaches down to take the crown placed on his victim's head. He pulls it off with such force that it disfigures the now lifeless face of what was until just now the most important man in the entire kingdom.

There is no respect, for only his peers can have it, nor compassion, a weakness unknown to him. A coldness devoid of emotion.

He takes the crown and places it on his head. His long white hair begins to turn a deep red. The drops of blood look like precious jewels, whose radiance makes the boy's loveliness shine.

He is so beautiful as to seem unreal. A face that seems to have been carved from the finest marble, delicate skin that would make the most precious silk pale in comparison. His eyes, two different colors, one as dark as the blackest night while the other white and pure as snowflakes, look like stars detached from the sky.

The armor that protects him is not what someone would expect a boy of his age to wear. The material is unknown, but so precious that it is blinding with its splendor. A masterpiece of The Divine Forge, the lava of a volcano molded its texture, the hammers that crafted the highest mountain peaks and smoothed the lush valleys redefined its form, decorated the plates, and honed the shine.

It is the armor that is due to a conqueror, yet it seems so fitting worn by the young man. A match made in Heaven.

Were it not for the grave crime of which he was guilty, all present would have stopped everything to contemplate his magnificence. They would have lusted after him, as one covets a precious diamond, drawn to possess something they could never obtain, but only admire.

Uncertainty commands the fleeting moment. The boy begins to move, heedless of the reactions of others. His silence speaks more than a thousand words.

The guards finally realize what is happening. Their king is dead. The killer is still with them. If they could not save their ruler, they can at least avenge him.

They snap, moved by blind fury. They are trained, they are dangerous. In death, they can find their forgiveness.

The spearheads heat up, a bright fire burns fiercely. Consume the air with its ardor.

They strike.

The boy does not stop. As if an insolent insect had decided to disturb his peace, he moves his hand to crush that annoyance.

"[Fire Storm]."

The whole area is shot through with sheets of roaring flame. The difference is what there is between the blazes of a burning inferno and the small spark that causes the rubbing of two wooden sticks.

The assailants have no time to realize their mistake. They are consumed. Skin dissolves, bones crumble. What were aspirations, dreams, and hopes are now just ashes that the wind scatters. Their remains are part of the cycle of life once again.

It's not over yet.

Lightning bolts fulminate the arrows. Bows shoot, small thunderbolts flash toward their target.

"[Wall Earth]."

The earth moves at the call of its rightful master. It rises and makes a shield, protecting him. Lightning sparkles, electricity is consumed, and the boy is undamaged.

"[Earthquake]."

Not yet satiated, a tremendous tremor rips the ground. Fissures open in the soil; victims fall into a bottomless abyss.

Fear envelops the survivors with its touch. It infects like a disease the emotions of the remaining souls. It leaves no escape. In its spread, there is a cruel fairness.

The boy has reached his goal. A few centimeters separate him from the symbol of command. But a thought takes hold of him. Before he can reclaim his position, he must make himself recognized as the rightful ruler.

To do so, he requires a demonstration.

"Behemoth!"

A whirlwind of sand begins to gain substance. Particles of dust and soil combine in infinite combinations until they acquire solid form. The head an amalgam of dust and rocks. Arms that can maintain the world with their mightiness glow with precious metals. The wrath of nature materializes in all its power. The creature emits a high-pitched shriek to show that it has come into the world. That it is alive.

"Destroy!"

The order is given. The command is imprinted in its essence. The only thing Behemoth knows is to satisfy its master. Not a living being, but an instrument that exists only to carry out his will.

To rebuild, it is first necessary to tear everything down. Only in this way can his vision rest on a solid foundation. The strength of a tree can be seen by its roots, not its branches. A precious lesson the boy carries in his heart.

'Then let there be destruction,' a sacrifice he is willing to make, as the ice in his chest pumping the blood can't be called heart. 'May your death be the seed that will make my empire sprout!'

Screams of pain replace the birdsong. The roaring fronds of the trees try unsuccessfully to cover the screams for help. A slaughter that brings despair to the streets, alleys, and homes. There is no escape.

Time passes. The clock moves its hands. The boy is satisfied.

The creature retreats, now its task has been accomplished. The beige color of the earth has changed, now tainted with a bright red.

A few gather in the throne room. They are confused, frightened; in need of someone who could guide them.

"Who are you?" They ask, unsure of the cataclysm that has befallen them. The last source of security they know, the monarch, is the only thing they can cling to.

Formen Gwaew, the north wind, begins to blow. It is a sign. Change has come. Only those who can adapt will live. Others are unwelcome in the new age.

"I am the king," the boy takes place on his rightful throne. How long he had waited for this moment. His new subjects bow at the sight of his power, sing choirs in awe of his magnificence. "Rise! Celebrate your true ruler!"

With the corpse of the false king still in the hall, the elves begin. A round of applause. Then suddenly another. Then another and, within seconds or minutes, yet another incessant rush of clapping hands.

Hysterical faces try to maintain an insincere smile. The skin of the hands begins to wear away, until the bones are visible, but the young elf makes no sign of stopping. It is necessary to test the devotion of these inferior beings.

Now everything has come to fruition. Savoring success, Decem places his left hand on the left armrest of the throne with a firm, sure grip. He moves his right hand ... his fingers only graze the other armrest.

Middle Water Month, 1st day, 07.00

Antilene could not contain the agitation, which overflowed like a swollen river. The small tent was now furrowed by her footsteps, each one an invocation to the deities.

"Fire, burn the doubts that grip my soul," with the aid of a nib, she had begun tracing the symbols of the Six Gods on the vacant spaces. "Earth, give my body the strength it needs to sweep my enemies."

That narrow space had been fashioned as a sacred chapel, where faith met reason.

"Wind, make my mind flexible for every eventuality," the hand continued its task with precision. "Water, let my heart be endowed with the steadfastness that knows mercy and wisdom."

Doubt made way for certainty. Ritual gave body to her determination, disciplined turbulent emotions, directed cruel vengeance toward a noble end.

"Light, allow your justice to shine upon the world and blind the wicked," was not just a useless waste of time. Through those gestures and words, she felt the presence of the Gods watching over her. "Darkness, may it be that my offering appeases your sorrow."

When she was satisfied, she slipped on her armor, by now the inseparable friend of a thousand battles, and grabbed Charon's Guidance, the best friend a girl could ask for.

The sacred helmet watched its owner from the chair on which it rested.

"One last time together," for she who had always been alone, the weapons had become inseparable companions, the armor irreplaceable confidants. "This may be the last time we fight together. Funny, isn't it? My nerves are firm. The hesitation is gone. I didn't think I would be so calm right now, but here I am."

Of course, the helmet did not respond. Antilene had not expected otherwise. She arranged her hair in an elaborate braid to make room for it.

"If I don't make it... What am I thinking? There's no point in mulling over stupid what-ifs. No matter what, everything changes today."

She took one last look at the items she had decided to take with her. Blood of the Gods potions, scrolls containing spells of various tiers, from the first to the fourth, and some earrings that protected against various statuses.

"Oh...you may as well stay here," the half-elf stowed the journal her teacher had given her just before the trip. It had been slightly creased, and the pages had yellowed even more. "Maybe I should have treated you with more care. I hope Rufus doesn't take it too hard. Rufus… Who knows what he's doing now, probably polishing objects in the treasure room or writing memoirs about some half-known official."

Thinking back to her old master led Antilene to recall with sweet nostalgia the house she had left behind. A taste sweet as honey and bitter like a lost love.

"When I was locked up in Silksuntecks, I couldn't wait for the time I would leave, and now that I'm here, I'm homesick. The inner machinations of the mind are an unsolvable riddle."

Never before had the expression 'uncertainty of tomorrow' been so fitting. But soon she would have to make her choice.

"Lady Zesshi," a voice from outside drew her attention. "May I come in?"

"Go ahead," the curtains of the tent unfolded to let in a man of short stature with a red cloak on his shoulders. "Ah, it's you, Time Turbulence. How can I help you?"

The second seat of the Black Scripture pulled out from his vest pocket a small watch tied to a pure silver chain, a reliquary of the Gods. "I am sorry to disturb you, but the time has come," he handed Antilene his gadget so that she could check for herself the veracity of that statement. "The others are waiting for us outside. When you are ready, we can begin."

"No need to wait," the half-elf took one last look at the diary. She stowed it away in a bag and placed it on a wooden stand. "I am ready. Let's go."

Outside, the rest of her team was already in position. They had split into two squads. Logem and the other elves would create confusion in the western wall that protected the capital. The Theocracy Scripture, on the other hand, would take advantage of the confusion and sneak in from the east side.

"Lady Zesshi!" When they saw her, all the other Black Scripture members rushed to kneel to show respect. An unnecessary practice, she would have liked to say. But that had been explained with no avail so many times over the years that by now the only thing possible was giving up. If they had wanted to do all those accolades, why prevent them from doing so?

Only one person continued to remain in the same position. Aella was giving her a defiant look as if to say 'Why don't you make me bow too?' but Antilene had promptly ignored it.

"How are things from the capital?" She asked the elf, returning her challenging glance. "Has Logem managed to break in?"

"He just sent me a message," Aella approached, handing her a map. "He is in the civilian district. His group is starting to recruit all the possible dissidents who are in the capital."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Perfect," certainly those who wanted to overthrow her father were not an exiguous number. Soon their ranks would be swelled with the disgruntled and desperate who were not afraid to oppose the king. "The dragon?"

"Ashukar is in position," Time Turbulence replied, his gaze locked on the passing of the hands of the clock, as if that could freeze time. "He is carrying out his mission right now. Once it's done, he will catch up with us."

"We can go then!" But before Antilene could take a step, she was stopped with a pat on the shoulder by Aella.

"One moment, please. We're not all there yet."

"Uh," the half-elf's eyes widened into a puzzled wide frown. She went over in her mind all the actors in that play, thinking she had missed some, but everyone was there. "What do you mean?"

"Now you'll see."

The trees began to move. The ground vibrated, as if exposed to continuous small earthquakes. From the forest began to arrive those to whom Aella was referring.

Divine Chain was the first to realize what was happening. "Those are..." As their form began to take shape, even those who were the heroes of humanity, veterans of a thousand battles, could not hold back their astonishment.

"Tch... giants!" Myriad Barriers moved even before he could think, shielding himself between his comrades and those titans made of wood and leaves. "I will not let you pass!"

But the giants, a total of about thirty, did not move. They stayed there, waiting for orders.

"They do not seem to have bad intentions," Divine Chant noted that none of the peculiar newcomers seemed in the process to launch an attack.

"I sense no hostility from them," One Thousand League Astrologer agreed with him, nevertheless the inside of her bag started to shake, a ferocious growl could be heard coming from it. "Although they may be just good at concealing bloodlust as us."

"...I... I won't give them time," the sphere of Infinite Magic began to glow with a cobalt light. "If they take another step, they will burn like dry twigs."

"Don't worry," putting herself between the two factions, Aella reassured the agents of the Theocracy, motioning for the defender to lower his shields. "They are on our side."

"Why are we only learning about this now?" Antilene's attention was locked on the newcomers. Despite their cartoony appearance, with those disproportionate arms made of broken wood and bushes filled with animals growing on their limbs, they were still one of the most dangerous breeds of nonhumans. "Did you maybe want to hide something from us?"

"It was not my intention," strangely the elf's words sounded sincere. "But you have to understand that it was unwise to reveal all our cards to you from the start. Ours was not the most cordial of meetings. Don't you agree?"

Aella did not wait for an answer. Approaching the giant who headed the line, she began to give him precise instructions.

"What shall we do?" Divine Chain gave voice to everyone's thoughts. "Fighting together with giants would be ... well, it would not respect protocols. Already asking the elves for help could get us in trouble with the Cardinals."

"You don't have to worry about that," Astrologer reassured him, adjusting the bow that was falling from her head for the earlier turmoil. "In the past few days, I had communications with Cardinal Raymond. The Council is ready to pass over any of our ... irregularities as long as we bring home results."

"In short, to kill the king we are authorized to use any means."

The elf woman, meanwhile, had finished speaking and closed Antilene and the Black Scriptures again with confident steps.

"We can go."

"You still haven't explained to me how the giants will be able to help us," Antilene stopped her, before she could move another inch. In the confined spaces of the capital, the mobility of those beings would be compromised. They could have caused more problems than expected if there had been no exemplary coordination. "I guess you intend to use them to break through the walls and cause unrest in the city.

"Take a good look at Crescent Lake, what do you see?" Aella had pointed to their target a few feet away, bringing the half-elf's attention to it. "It's not like a human city. The trees grow out of all proportions and blend in with the buildings. That is precisely why the wood giants will come in handy. They are druids capable of controlling the forest. Their magics will change the formation of the land. Trees will begin to distort, branches to bend, roots to emerge, and the capital rangers will eventually lose their advantage."

"I see," a bolder plan than she had expected. Antilene mentally complimented the elf. Maybe she wasn't so bad. "The giants will not come in with us?"

"They will wait out here. In case of outside danger, they will also act as sentries. That way we will be sure that no monsters can disturb our plan." Before they could get going, however, Aella stopped them. "One last thing," she said, her voice expressing an unexpected pleading tone. "Try not to kill unless strictly necessary. Many of the inhabitants will be frightened and desperate. I am not asking you not to act if put in danger. Only, try to show compassion."

"We will," Antilene sought the approval of her comrades. As unusual as the request was, there was a debt to repay to the elves. "I promise."

Aella clasped her hands in hers. "...Thanks!" She pronounced only that banal word, but the half-elf felt the gratitude the elf was timidly trying to convey.

"Let's go."

To call the fortifications that surrounded Crescent Lake walls would have been far too generous a compliment. They were more akin to palisades laid out for good measure. Nevertheless, Antilene understood why they were sufficient.

The heart of Evasha's kingdom was an unraveling of veins and arteries made of plants and shrubs. Endless vegetation made every part of the city an intricate maze that only skilled rangers could make the most of.

Had they entered blindly, so many possible ambushes would have had to be taken into consideration that there would not have been time to catch the king by surprise.

"Just a couple of sentries," Astrologer had closed her eyes in concentration, activating [Scry] magic. "They shouldn't be a problem. Looks like a lot of them are falling back to the west side."

"Logem kept his word," and now it was Antilene's turn to do the same. "Divine Chain, do you want to take care of that?"

Edgar nodded, preparing his chain for combat. "I'll be back in a moment." The tattooed man moved as fast as a cheetah who found its prey, swiftly leaping over the walls and catching one of the archers standing guard by surprise.

The sacred chain clung to the legs of the elf, who was hurled violently at the approaching reinforcements. A spearman tried to attack the thirteenth Black Scripture seat from behind, but the latter dodged the blow gracefully and then grabbed the spear shaft. Pulling it like a rope, he brought his opponent closer, only to finish him off with a right hook to the jaw.

The knuckles of his fist had not yet dislodged that half a dozen arrows headed in his direction. The chain moved suddenly, the space between the links suddenly expanded, then closed in like pincers as the points entered their space, breaking them on contact.

The fragments fell to the ground, astonishment painted on the faces of the assailants. Edgar closed the distance and once again used the chain to trap his enemies.

"[Metal Prison], [Fragments of Pain]."

The bindings began to tighten, tiny metal blades formed from the metal rings. There was no time to utter a cry for help, and the poor men found themselves unconscious on the ground.

"Okay, all clear," after making sure the elves were still breathing, Edgar motioned the other Black Scripture members to join him.

"Good job," Antilene congratulated him, but the man seemed much more interested in the elf who was with them. He wagged his tail like a little dog waiting to receive his reward from his owner.

"See, Miss Aella? They are all alive!"

"Um... I'm truly impressed, Mr. Divine Chain," the woman rolled her eyes, hoping that that awkward moment would end soon. "I am infinitely grateful to you."

Edgar's face lit up with satisfaction.

"Idiot," Astrologer commented, frazzled by that ludicrous display. "Imagine what the Cardinals would say if they saw you in this state."

"We'll think about it once we're back in the Theocracy," Myriad Barriers brought them back to reality, his trademark seriousness remaining undaunted on his face. "Miss Aella, where do we go from here?"

"Follow me," Aella leapt down the walls and then began to run. "The market district is nearby. It won't take us long to get there."

As she followed, Antilene had to admit that Crescent Lake was much more beautiful than her imagination had thought.

The humans, in building their settlements, imparted a destructive force that swept away anything that might go against their quest for progress and technology. The environment became a space that was reshaped to meet their needs, in the grip of constant change that sought perfection. It was therefore not strange that the important cities of the kingdoms of men -Theocracy included- tended to change rapidly according to new technological innovations.

In the capital of elves, however, a contrasting approach had been followed. Nature was not an enemy to be annihilated or subdued, but a valuable ally to cooperate with. The villages of the Evasha Forest had made this teaching their own, seeking the best way to be able to live in harmony with all of creation.

Crescent Lake was the ultimate expression of this philosophy. Both houses and stores had been carved out of the wood of living trees, probably with the help of Druidic magic that had made it possible to reshape them without causing a hazard to the plants, which blended perfectly with the scenery in a marriage of art and modernity.

"Gorgeous," Antilene found herself open-mouthed commenting on the sight of some of the stores covered in a light blue hue. "It's as if the sky had been brought here to earth, to brighten the shadows produced by the foliage."

"...It used to be even more breath-taking," Aella was seized with melancholy, a longing for a past that wasn't here anymore. "Before they took me away, I remember how shopkeepers would change the color of the streets and stores according to the seasons or a particular event. I loved it so much; it was like seeing different little rainbows every day."

"What changed?" It was hard to think that at one time that place could be even more awe-inspiring.

"The war," the melancholy disappeared, to make room for a resentment that never abated. "When the Theocracy attacked us, and our young men began to die and be captured we began to lose what little joy we had left. The king had taken away our present, our traditions. You robbed us of our future, our dreams."

Antilene remained silent.

The other Black Scripture members also said nothing. Divine Chain cast a sidelong glance at Aella, then quickly withdrew it in shame. Time Turbulence pretended nothing, or perhaps he was indeed uncaring. Astrologer lovingly caressed the creature inside her purse, the lenses of her glasses covered her eyes. Myriad Barriers began to pray, a murmur that sought absolution. Infinite Magic had become practically invisible under her giant hat. Divine Chant cleared her throat with unrest, attempting with her singing to chase off the awkward quiet.

Feelings of guilt? Or just that hypocrisy that could make dreams free of remorse?

"Stop," Aella halted her run, raising an arm to signal others to do the same. "They are here."

The absence of noise was itself a warning. The streets were deserted, devoid of life. Holed up in their dwellings, the elves had isolated themselves from the outside world, foolishly thinking that windows would save them from any danger.

Those who had remained to mount a stalwart resistance were waiting for the right opportunity. If not in the sword, in the mind was the last spark of a candle now on the verge of exhaustion called courage.

"The royal army is in disarray," those few soldiers who were still left alive were largely the scraps, reserves of the reserves lost in the untangled chaos of the battlefield. "The only thing the survivors must be wondering is 'why?' "

For a coup, it was proceeding far too methodically. Although it was her first experience, Antilene would have imagined hellish noises heralding a tsunami of panic and disorder.

As she thought about how often reality is only a distorted mirror of expectations, the earth began to shake.

At first, it was almost imperceptible, only superhuman senses could have noticed it. But then it began to increase in intensity, stronger and stronger until it erupted with all its power.

The trees moved. The sturdy trunks of the beech trees became soft, writhing as if in the grip of an incessant dance from which they could not escape. The deep roots of the birch trees rose to the sky, tired of that ceaseless darkness of the underground to reach for the sunlight. The branches of the elms joined their fellows, flinging their hosts to the ground.

Before long, nature was aging rapidly, growing by seconds…minutes…months…years. The geography of the place stirred like a watery whirlpool drawing everything to its inescapable center of gravity.

Tree houses found themselves glued to the ground. Streets divided, joined, and changed places. Hills became plains, and plains became hills.

"This is the work of giants!" Commented Divine Chain without restraining his astonishment, the body teetering to keep its early balance. "Look! The elves are going nuts."

As expected, now that the onslaught had begun in earnest, the inhabitants had thought it wiser to take cover and try to save their own skins than to embark on a futile battle.

The two sides became invisible to each other. A compromise that would benefit both parties involved.

"...Now is the time," Aella tried to maintain composure but the frenzy with which she crunched the nail of her left thumb was clear evidence of her state of mind. Even though Crescent Lake had betrayed her, it had still been her home. "The royal palace is only a few minutes away."

'Aella is shaken by what's happening,' Antilene did not judge her for it. How would she have reacted if Silksuntecks had faced the same disaster? Would she have been able to keep her cool like the elf did? The mind told her yes, but instinct gave her a negative answer. 'Gods willing, no cataclysm comparable to this will ever strike the Theocracy.'

"Mom!" A little girl's cry. At the beginning of the disaster, the elves had abandoned their dwellings as quickly as possible. The little girl must have been separated from her parents amid the confusion.

And now the shaft of a collapsing tree was about to crush her.

"Damn-," Aella moved as fast as her body allowed. No, much more. But it was not enough. "I'm not going to make it-"

A shadow walked past her. Antilene had heard the same cry for help, and moved accordingly.

The tree collapsed. But the child was already safe.

"Mommy, Mommy!" She re-embraced her parents who, nearly dead from fright, could now breathe a sigh of relief.

Aella was visibly shaken, but she pretended that nothing happened.

They resumed their race. Fortunately, or perhaps it would have been better to say 'as planned', the king's palace had not been involved in their plans. Soaring in its pride, its grandeur was an open invitation to reach it as soon as possible.

"Are you all right?" Trying to make friends at that moment was sheer madness. But Antilene needed to distract herself before the fatal hour, and deep inside she was still sorry for the way things had gone with Aella a few days earlier. "While you are waiting outside you should have Divine Chant sing something to you. An outstanding bard like her will be perfectly able to relieve you of any bad thoughts that hold you down."

"...You don't have much experience in consoling people, do you?" Hit and burn. If not for the helmet covering her face, the half-elf would have turned her gaze away to avoid being caught in her inherent foibles. "Have you spent your whole life locked up in a tower like some sort of princess?"

"... I have."

"...I didn't want to... you know, offend you."

"It's all right," she reassured her. Embarrassment was the perfect way to break the ice. "If today goes well, it won't be like that anymore." At least, that was what Antilene told herself.

"When this is over, I will-" The rest of the words were not spoken. A roar that sounded like the wail of an enraged deity ripped through the sky.

Driven by blind fury, an unworldly creature mocked all obstacles that stood between its prey. Two elves covered in gleaming blue armor guided its unstoppable run.

"That's a Verakia!" Aella tried to take cover from the savage beast that grew closer by the second. "Flee, before it is too late. Or madness will take control of you!"

The humongous Verakia had draconic lower bodies with four reptilian feet, the front two ending in huge talons, and a long, spiked tail. Its more humanoid upper torsos had large, powerful arms ending in two-fingered hands, the inner finger of each being larger than the outer finger and tipped by a serrated, inward-curving, scythe-like claw. The head had three horns, two angling downward like a bull's and a third at the rear of the head curving backward. A long-forked tongue like that of a serpent could be found within its cavernous maws, the corners of which billowed with red smoke caused by the blood-red flames that could be seen glowing within its throat.

'It seems I had not eliminated every forest lord,' Charon's Guidance was about to claim a new offering, another one for its collection, but Antilene was stopped short.

"You cannot waste energy here, Lady Zesshi," Time Turbolence and the Black Scriptures had stepped forward. Perhaps bored with the little action they had seen so far, or maybe driven by a genuine duty of protection, they had drawn their weapons. "For opponents of this caliber, we are sufficient. Trust us. Divine Chain, you protect Miss Aella!"

"Yessir!"

"Myriad Barriers, it's your turn!"

Cedran activated his defensive martial arts. "[Fortress], [Invulnerable Fortress]." The well-trained body was enveloped in a gray light, his muscles bulging, his posture as firm as a rock.

But compared to the lord of the forest, he was a babe trying to face an adult in the full of their forces. Aella looked away, expecting the disaster.

Instead...

"What?" Reopening her eyes, she saw that the eighth seat of Black Scripture had given credence to his martial arts names and made his defense an impenetrable fortress. Friction with the monster's horns and the imposing shields had stopped the latter's run, but not its fury, which continued to be externalized with gruesome sounds as its legs pushed to make their way. "How did he do it?"

"Watch closely. This is the way humans fight." Antilene pointed with a confident motion of her arm, satisfaction could not be hidden by her voice. "They are my dear disciples, after all. Compared to what they have been through, this is nothing. My training is not so lenient."

Taking a closer look, the elf noticed something strange. Behind Myriad Barriers the woman known as Divine Chant was singing an inspirational melody. Now that she listened intently, Aella felt an unfamiliar freshness run through her body, making it as light as a feather and at the same time as mighty as a mount.

"This is bardic magic," unaccustomed to feeling pervaded by such refreshing energy, it took Aella a few seconds to regain her composure. "Unbelievable."

"And that's not all!"

Cedran was not the only one keeping their opponent at bay. Astrologer had unzipped her purse, and a blackish-furred ferret had emerged from inside it. Despite its small stature, the animal had latched onto the Verakia's right leg and started eating the skin until its sharp teeth sank down to the bone.

"Way to go honey!" When it came to her pet, Cassandra showed an unexpected cheerfulness. Her eyes twinkled like those of a maiden in love. "Show them what a real monster is like!"

The creature was evidently in pain, its torso twitching in irregular spasms. The elves began to move, Cedran their target, to end the standoff.

"Oh, I won't let you do that," Time Turbolence vibrated through the air. He pulled out his pocket watch -the same one he had shown Antilene a few hours earlier- and landed right between the two enemies, striking with two quick lunges the exposed points of their protections.

The two barely accused what they considered only a light jab and, confident in their strength, began the counterattack.

The elf on the left drew a saber covered with glittering gems. With a slashing blow, he ripped through the right arm of the second Black Scripture seat.

The elf on the right cast a spell, a staff of fine oak touched the skin of the monster on which they were leaning, and launched a blaze that burned the body of Saturno.

…

The elf on the left drew a saber covered with glittering gems. With a slashing blow, he missed the right arm of the second seat of the Black Scripture by inches. He felt agitated, as if in the grip of a strange sensation, but paid it no attention. Suddenly ... a slight imbalance. Saturno's rapier had struck him in the neck, barely grazing his skin but not going too deep.

The elf on the right cast a spell, a staff of prized oak touched the monster's skin on which they were leaning, and launched a blaze that struck his companion, however, since the second seat had been quick enough to dodge it.

The elf on the left felt his body prey to the burns, but he endured it. With the aid of martial arts, he provoked a slash of air that swept through Saturno, splitting him in half.

The elf on the right cast a fireball, reducing the remains of Time Turbulence to ashes.

…

The elf on the left felt his body fall prey to the burns, his senses became confused, vision blurred; a desire to vomit took hold of him, but he resisted. With the aid of martial arts, he provoked a slash of air that swept right through his companion, cutting him in half.

The elf on the right was about to cast magic, his staff pointed at his target, when he felt his vision split. His separated body crumpled to the ground like an apple falling from a tree.

"It is all useless," Saturno gave the survivor the coup de grace, his rapier penetrating his rival's torso, piercing him through and through. The elf followed his partner, all the while his body was still in spasms. "My skill altered your perception of reality, buffing your brain's synaptic connections. Unfortunately, this comes with a price. Your mind moves faster than your body does, with your imagination filling the gaps."

No one was listening to him, but he thought he needed to give an explanation as a final gift. "A few more seconds before your body realizes it is dead. The battle was over the moment I stuck you."

The second seat saw his enemy slowly lose strength until even the last movements ceased.

"Ten seconds. A new record," he muttered, staring at his watch. "And now," he pointed the tip of his blade at Verakia's head. "Let's put an end to this."

The rapier penetrated the beast's flesh, but could not go too deep. "Tch," despite the fact that the creature was beginning to wriggle out of the new pain that had been inflicted on it, it also continued to press down on Myriad Barriers, now on the verge of giving way. "Infinite Magic, you finish him off." With a somersault, Saturno pulled away.

"... Okay," Aradia hovered in the air through the use of [Fly]. "Let's begin. [Magic Arrow]."

The orb she carried began to glow with power, enchanted arrows departed from it until they struck the Verakia. The monster's skin did not feel the blow.

"Hum..." a hand emerged from the hat he wore on his head, imitating with a bizarre and ungainly motion a negative point. "[Magic Arrow], [Magic Arrow]."

The number of arrows doubled, but the result remained the same.

The 11th seat frowned thoughtfully. The giant hand began to rub her chin. "Let's try it this way. [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow]."

One, two, three, four, five... ten...twenty...fifty...one hundred...two hundred arrows covered the clouds in the sky and fell like raindrops on the Verakia lord. The latter began to feel the blows, flaps of skin peeled off showing bare flesh.

"Ah...Ah...Ah," an unconvinced laugh with a bored aftertaste. "[Fireball], [Fireball], [Fireball], [Fireball]."

Four fireballs centered squarely on the beast's legs. The pain had reached its peak. The forest lord slumped to the ground alive, but helpless.

"...Let's get it over with," Aradia continued to remain impassive but, as if conveying his true emotions, the giant hat began to twirl in amused and increasingly clownish motions the hands that sprouted from it. "[Ice Prison], [Flame Strike]!"

Many small ice crystals began to materialize to cover the beast, creating an unusual, but not for that reason ugly, snow sculpture.

Then flames shrouded in a divine aura consumed Verakia's now motionless body, bringing an end to his woes. They continued to burn for several minutes, until only an annoying burning smell was all that remained.

"Unbelievable!" Aella had watched that fight-that massacre-without being able to believe what she was seeing. "It wasn't just you who was monstrous, Lady Zesshi."

"Well, it looks like we're done here," Antilene tried to bring the elf, still in disbelief at what had happened, back to reality. " Is everything all right? Can we continue?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Aella slapped her cheeks, making sure she wasn't dreaming. "Let's proceed."

They resumed their mission. But a sudden gust of wind caught everyone's attention. A fresh smell of violets rose from the incessant movement of a pair of giant wings.

"Now what?" Antilene asked aloud, it seemed as if the day would never end.

"Lady Zesshi!" The half-elf immediately recognized that unwarranted enthusiasm. If only a few weeks earlier someone had told her that a dragon whose scales made the most precious emeralds pale would strain with every most awkward ceremonial gesture possible and imaginable, she would have called him crazy. "I have successfully accomplished my task!"

"Well done, Ashuak Frahr Ssissth," how she had managed not only to learn but also to pronounce that abstruse name was an inexplicable mystery. "There were no problems, were there?"

"Absolutely not, my lady," a dragon bowing. What an absurd, but unexpectedly pleasant ego, circumstance. "The lake lord and I are old friends. Convincing him not to attack us was the proverbial child's play. I still remember when we were just little lizards and the Sinner Remnants attacked the forest. At the time we..."

"Yes, you'll tell me another day," Antilene certainly had no precious seconds to waste with a nonsensical story that interested no one. "Now that you are here, let me get on your back."

"With great pleasure!"

"Then I'm off," Antilene gave a final salute as she settled on the back of her unusual mount. Having no reins with which to direct him or saddles to mount made her position quite uncomfortable.

"Leave the rest to us," Time Turbolence brought his hand to his chest in a military salute filled with respect. "We will see to it that no one disturbs your revenge, Lady Zesshi."

Antilene nodded.

Reciprocating the trusting look Aella was giving her, heard the last words of the woman.

"I will head to Logem," an uncertainty leaked from the elf's gaze. She looked at the half-elf as one looks at a jigsaw puzzle in which the pieces do not fit together perfectly, aware that something was missing to make the picture complete but at the same time unable to end the game. "Look, my real name is- No, never mind. Just think about coming back alive. Good luck!"

Antilene raised her thumb as a way to say 'trust me'. Ashukar soared high into the sky.

At the same time

'Idiots. All of them are incompetent idiots. Where did everyone disappear to?'

Decem was in the throne room. The choruses of adoration befitting a personality of his rank were replaced by an eerie silence that would have suited a ghastly graveyard, not the auspiciousness of the ruler of the whole world.

The Elf King tightly clutched the knobs of his new throne, splendid work that had required the skill of the best master craftsmen in his splendid capital. Carved entirely from the most precious ivory, glittering gems -which burned with an intensity equal to glowing little suns- were set at its ends while depictions of his history had been finely carved into plaques made from the painstaking workmanship of dragon bones, attached to the backrest.

Normally it would have taken months to erect such a marvel, but thanks to his persuasion -and the devotion his subjects had for him- Decem had been able to admire that splendor in record time.

And now he was alone.

With no one to worship him.

The loneliness of those at the top was a burden one learned to live with but never got used to. If only he had not been surrounded by uncouth villagers who could not even in their most fervent dreams understand what was the price to be paid for his powers, maybe things would have been different.

'I have already razed this place, long ago. Maybe it's time to start again. Yes, a new beginning. When my rightful heir arrives, I will have to show her what is the right method by which we superior beings can deal with maggots.'

As he planned for the future -what wonders did the world have in store for him? The chosen ones who could count on the planet's favor were destined to eat daily from nature's rich banquet, after all, - a shrill voice echoed through the halls of the palace.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty," it was the prime minister moving his stubby legs in a grotesque rendition of what should have been a precipitous rush, but just seemed the ungainly movement of a fat pig trying to escape slaughter. "They are here...they are in the palace... We need your help."

His face was smeared with blood -his own, probably- while his tattered robes barely maintained a modicum of decorum. He was accompanied by a handful of guards, in the same pathetic conditions.

'Should I kill them for this disrespect? To show up not only late, but in such an inelegant and slovenly state before their ruler! Fortunate are they, these pale imitations of what should be the chosen race of elves, in having a ruler of my moral caliber.'

Holding back the urge to execute them on the spot, he opened his hands to invite them to speak. "Let's hear it. What is this great problem that you inept people are unable to solve yourselves? Heaven forbids that one day you might be able to meet my already low expectations and surprise me with the slightest demonstration of competence."

Drops of sweat began to mingle with the bloody foreheads of the prime minister and his soldiers. Had it not been for the icy gaze Decem imposed on them, and the chilling prospect of remaining silent before their ruler aroused, they might have found a new profession as statues in the royal garden.

"Your Majesty ... this is about the rebels. The eastern part of Crescent Lake is in total chaos. Plants rise up in a wail of revolt and disorder. Roads are impassable, residents flee in search of safety," the guards nodded to show that what the minister was saying was not the ramblings of a madman, but the pure, albeit unbelievable, truth. "We don't know how they did it, but both the merchant and military districts are virtually unreachable."

"And you dare to waste my time on this nonsense?" Decem stood up, fury impossible to restrain after such an affront, even with all his willpower. "Get out of my sight, before I decide to do to your innards what is happening to my beloved capital, and be sure to solve the problem quickly, if you do not wish to incur my wrath."

Rebels? Ridiculous! Poor fools who could not accept the truth. Evasha was rightfully his, as was every other known land. They would be crushed as had happened to all their predecessors who foolishly thought they could oust him.

"Your Majesty, these natural phenomena are not the only problem we are facing," one of the guards took the floor. Reduced to that miserable state, with a broken spear, a broken nose, and an arm dangling like a piece of dead flesh was too pitiable for a compassionate personality like the king to look at. "The western part is in full revolt. The citizens are rising against your majesty's rule. All crown sympathizers are being captured and interrogated. Only the royal palace still holds, but if left to our own devices, we will soon give way."

"What did you say?" Decem must have had trouble in his royal ears, for he could have sworn that he had just been told that the very inhabitants of Crescent Lake had raised their arms against him. "I must still be drowsy... Because I'm sure you didn't tell me that my own subjects, those who are under my direct control, who have benefited for years from my leadership, DARE to rebel."

In more than four hundred years no one, NO ONE, had ever dared to do so much. His wrath was about to erupt with all its fierceness, like the explosion of an active volcano.

It was as if someone had taken all the evils of the world, collected them in a cramped urn, and then locked them there for years and years. The moment the urn was opened, they would disperse with all their perversion, happy for finally being set free.

This is how Decem felt, pressing with all his might not to let the city itself sink into the endless depths of the underworld, as a just punishment for that abomination he was forced to hear.

"The rioters are spreading the word of a savior," the prime minister had resumed, his head bent so low in fear that it might have popped up on the other side of the planet. "The royal army has been routed. The King Slayer, or the White Fury as they call them, is heading here to start a new era."

'Wait a minute, so that's what this was all about.'

The Elf King regained his lost calm. Just as the waves of the sea after a storm return to placid quiet, so Decem's fury-scarred face relaxed into an expression filled with satisfaction, even more ghoulish than the previous one.

"Ahahahahah, splendid. Splendid," his laughter could be felt under the skin. A devilish sound, a hellish symphony that played its notes to the rhythm of horror. "She came to me. Oh, what joy, what jubilation! You!" For his plans, those three insolent ones would have to suffice for the time being. If they had failed him one last time, however, not even his generosity could have saved them. "Prepare a suitable banquet. And decorate this place with the finest silks and the most precious embellishments. Priceless fragrances should suffuse the air. I want this moment to be forever remembered as one of triumph!"

"But your majesty, there is no time to prepare all this! The first floor of the palace is already under attack!"

"You are lucky," such was the contentment that he was willing to overlook that ostentatious display of weakness. "Once I am reunited with my heir, I will get rid of these fools. Better yet, we will get rid of them together. A great way to strengthen the newly rebuilt bond."

The guards remained silent. Realizing that reason had left -or perhaps had never entered- that room, the prime minister moistened his lips in concern before saying, "We will provide as soon as possible to-"

Crash

"What?"

Decem himself was surprised by that sudden noise. Looking up, a shower of glass shards descended on them like water from a waterfall. The glass window on the ceiling had been broken in contact with what, judging by the superhuman speed with which it descended, was a celestial body.

The meteor catapulted over the guards, crushing them in place and raising a dust of smoke. Decem's ears began to rumble from the shock wave that had been produced by the impact.

As the view became clearer, the Elf King understood the identity of what -or rather, who- had landed in his throne room.

A paladin in shining armor, so imposing and solemn as to inspire reverence comparable to his own, was pointing a long black staff at the end of which protruded three sharp blades, the central one pointed to his regal persona.

"Greetings, Father," Formen Gwaew began to blow, summoned by the new era. "Your daughter has finally come back home."