The blonde woman curtsied towards him in a brief but exceedingly refined manner, the room’s warm lighting enhancing the lusciousness of her straight hair’s color which reached all the way down to her waist, even if it was bound in a loose ponytail.

Rakim got up, asking. “Is your task done?”

Aktaie nodded slightly and then moved over towards the Godsbinder while her eyes golden irises looked Arakiel over. If she judged him in any fashion, she didn’t let it show – but the way she moved and behaved reminded him a little of an aurea.

She reached for Rakim’s outstretched hand and the two then turned towards him in a sort of overemphasized play whose meaning eluded him, although it left him time to briefly skim his mind about the topic of Divine Offerings.

As far as he recalled, they were necessary assistants for crafters that sought to fashion gear for members who moved past the Class System. Neither his mother or father had one even if House Alexandrite supposedly had recruited half a dozen individuals that did.

Arakiel had never met one, but the fact that he was about to receive equipment from one such individual – and a Godsbinder at that – still felt extremely surreal to him.

Somewhere deep down inside him, a faint voice mocked this reliance, sought to remind him of his so-called independence that he used to value so highly. A value he readily offered on the altar of power.

That’s what it boiled down to, didn’t it?

He needed it.

Power.

All of his earlier talk and conviction was meaningless before Nyanna’s power.

Arakiel tensed up.

“I wonder,” Rakim began as he, too, fixated Arakiel in a manner that made him feel uncomfortable. “How much do common Kalanites know about Offerings?”

Arakiel briefly delved into his own supposedly broad pond of knowledge, only to realize that he knew precious little.

“Is there a difference between an Offering and a Divine Offering?” Arakiel asked as a means to conceal his ignorance.

Aktaie’s lips curled to an amused smile while the Godsbinder gave him a look that signaled disappointment. It culminated in a single question that made Arakiel blush with shame. “Are you truly this ignorant?”

“Care to enlighten me?” He returned in a slightly irritated manner. When he realized, he immediately followed with a brief apology. “Apologies… I let my temper get the better of me.”

Rakim chuckled. “Be yourself, flaws and all. If there’s something I truly despise, it is people pretending to be something they’re not… so essentially what you’ve been doing.”

A shiver ran down Arakiel’s spine and he actually shied away from the Godsbinder just a little bit. There was a meaning somewhere in these words steeped in judgment.

He had to find it – fast.

“There’s but a thin difference between foolishness and bravery,” Rakim lectured him in a stern tone. “Only one of them will help you achieve your goals. The other will see you fail.”

“I am well aware!” Arakiel countered, causing the Divine Offering to roll her eyes at him.

It really irritated him.

Nonetheless.

Rationale. Calm.

He took several deep breaths, wondering when exactly he had become so thin-skinned.

A regression.

Strong emotions were the exact opposite of what he needed if he was to succeed. Emotions were a good amplifier at the right time and moment. Now was not such a time.

This time, Rakim gave him the curtest nod of approval. “Better, but it is something you have to improve.”

Arakiel’s first instinct was to give the demigod another passive-aggressive response until he once again realized what exactly he was doing here.

There were many questions that started to bounced around in his mind, but they quickly condensed it in a single question that he posed to the Godsbinder and his Divine Offering. “Why?”

Rakim’s red eyes gained another glint of approval. “I will neither waste my spark nor my time on someone whose demeanor will see him fail no matter what.”

Fail no matter what?

The words lingered on in Arakiel’s mind and he felt his chest tighten.

It couldn’t be this bad, couldn’t it?

He had achieved so much in such a short time, after all.

“Your mind is wounded, planeswalker,” Aktaie then suddenly concluded in a calm-yet-sharp tone. She followed up right away. “Given the intensity of your reactions, it has to be a fresh wound, too.”

“Am I being counseled!?”

Rakim shrugged. “I’m assessing you.”

“Of course you are,” Arakiel returned as his inner self began to unravel because he knew he was being judged as inadequate.

It all served to amplify these accursed self-doubts he still had to this day.

Why couldn’t he calm down? Why did such a little gesture cause him this much grief?

No… it wasn’t grief.

Anxiety?

Fear of what?

His mind’s circle began to spiral out of control and he began to frantically look around, searching for something to cling to.

He needed Aurora, needed her to reaffirm that he was still on track, that he had done the right thing… that it had all been worth it.

The blonde woman turned towards the demigod. “Master… this planeswalker is fragile.”

The Godsbinder’s expression darkened as he let out a sigh which caused Arakiel even more mental anguish. It truly shocked him just how quickly he unraveled, which only added fuel to the fire that burned his self-esteem into cinders.

“Son of Alexandria – look into my eyes,” the demigod ordered in a tone that sent another shiver down Arakiel’s spine.

When Arakiel looked up once more, he felt his own heart beating at an unreasonable pace while an incredibly heavy feeling began to spread inside his stomach, a feeling that grew worse with each passing moment.

“What…!?” He snarled through pursed lips, feeling like a cornered animal all of a sudden.

But he was no animal, he was Kalanite – a proud…

His own thoughts choked at the word, the meaning.

“Who hurt you so?” Aktaie asked in a tone that thoroughly overwhelmed Arakiel. When she had been cold, sharp and distant before, she was now speaking with the kind of empathy and softness that he could not guard against.

These golden eyes, the soft reverberations of her voice that began to overplay his own heart’s beat, smothering it with something he couldn’t even describe.

The next word came from deep inside. “Nyanna…!” Arakiel snarled with seething rage that he had thought tempered, had thought tamed.

The opposite had been the case.

What had he been doing for these past weeks, then!?

“This accursed seelie!” He cried out as it all erupted from inside. “This abominable immortal hurt me! Hurt Aurora! HURT US!”

He began to gesture wildly. “You want to KNOW my SHAME!?” Arakiel cried out as he practically ripped the clothes from his upper body.

“This,” he seethed while turning around, showing the scars that the seelie had inflicted upon him. “I’m forever tainted by her, by an immortal, an immortal woman…!”

Throwing all pretense aside, he gave himself over to the emotions that he had thought subdued, suppressed.

How laughable.

“I will find her! I will beat her! I will break her! I will–”

There was a sudden dull pain that sent Arakiel reeling while his body went into a state of shock as it bent forward, something having buried deep into his stomach.

He nearly passed out as his body went limp. Arakiel fell on his knees and in his fading vision, he noticed Rakim standing right in front of him.

No, the demigod towered over him.

Arakiel hadn’t even seen the crafter move, but his mind caught on relatively quickly nonetheless.

For another moment, silence ensued. It was only broken by the blood rushing in Arakiel’s ears, paired along with a rapidly beating heart and throbbing pain that began to encapsulate his entire body.

The demigod would most likely kill him any moment now and although Arakiel should be afraid, he could only feel pain and shame.

“And?” The Godsbinder asked someone that wasn’t him.

No answer returned right away.

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Once again, he had been shown just how utterly pathetic he…

His train of thought was once again interrupted as he was suddenly lifted to his feet, Rakim having grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Look into my eyes, son of Alexandria,” the red-eyed Godsbinder repeated and although there was a certain sternness in the voice, it also held the slightest smidgen of understanding.

While a decently-sized portion of Arakiel wanted to keep putting up meaningless resistance, a small part of ratio took over, letting him follow along.

“Good,” Rakim went on as Arakiel’s turmoil went up in pain. At the same time, a heavy sense of relief set in, one that began to overshadow everything else.

If Rakim had wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t be alive anymore.

Arakiel opened his mouth to speak, but found no strength to… so instead he nodded faintly as he tried to get another grip on his bearings.

“Aktaie, get me some some Ambrosia,” Rakim ordered while he held Arakiel sit down once more, after which he continued in a much more soft-spoken manner.

“Your mental fortitude is severely lacking, son of Alexandria.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…” Arakiel mutter weakly while he longed to hug Aurora again for an hour or two… just let it all go up in smoke in her embrace.

But then another thought crossed his mind.

What if she was just like him?

What if she hadn’t processed all of what happened, just like he apparently hadn’t?”

A new sense of dread began to rise, making his own ills seem so insignificant.

He was supposed to be her champion, her Monarch-to-be…

“I can help you,” the Godsbinder began and then lightly shook his head, correcting. “No, I will help you.”

Arakiel looked up to the man, his voice trembling under the pain, yet he had to ask anyway. “W-why? I’m a nobody… you’re a Godsbinder, a legend.”

Rakim looked him straight in the eyes once again. Somehow, the red seemed a little less intense than before, or maybe the lighting had changed. But it somehow helped to alleviate the chaos in Arakiel’s state of mind. In them and the demigod’s unspoken confidence, he could find an anchor, could find some sort of stability.

“You’re a Kalanite Alexandrian, a true-born son of another legend as you so kindly put it,” the demigod stated. “You are neither a nobody nor do you deserve to throw your future away just because an immortal had her way with you while you were still weak.”

“You… believe me?”

“I do. These emotions you’ve shown… they’re impossible to fake for a man like you.” Rakim said as he lightly patted Arakiel on the back. A little gesture of support, yet it meant quite a lot to him.

“How would you know?”

“There have been many victims in this fight we’ve been fighting since time immemorial… and there will be many more.” Rakim answered slowly, almost profoundly. Arakiel was certain that his words held more than they let on.

And with it, a brief surge of curiosity arose inside him, compelling him to ask. “How was it… the old time? You were there, weren’t you?”

Rakim nodded slowly as he took the seat right next to Arakiel.

It was only now that Arakiel noticed that the musician had left.

They were alone.

“I was indeed. I’d like to believe that we were among the first to take up arms against the immortals, but that’s simply not true,” the Godsbinder began to tell in a calm tone. “We were just the first who stood an actual chance because the Transcended offered it to us.”

“With the Class System,” Arakiel stated while the physical pain increased whereas his mental anguish lessened.

Rakim affirmed. “Aye… with the Class System that the Transcended established by some manner. Even today it is a mystery to me.”

“Didn’t the Seraphim assist him?” Arakiel queried, causing the Godsbinder to chuckle as he shook his head.

“That was much, much later – when the war had been raging for decades.” He corrected with what might be considered contempt. “No, the Transcended claimed his power all by himself – he and his Archons traveled from plane to plane, quietly planting the seed of rebellion. He gave us the means to fight back… but fight back we had to by ourselves.”

“So you had to level while still being beneath the immortals’ rule?”

“We did – and in their haughtiness, most didn’t take us seriously at first. And would they? The immortals of basically every kind were superior to us mortals in every single way – the only thing we had were numbers… but numbers mean nothing when a simple weave can undo an entire battlefield.”

As Rakim spoke, he appeared just like a mortal man recalling painful memories… not like the legendary demigod that he was.

In fact, Arakiel wasn’t certain how he had pictured the Godsbinder, but certainly not like this… not this ‘mortal’.

From what he had heard and seen, most people that attained a spark of divinity became aloof and distant, increasingly so the more sparks they attained. Not so Rakim.

“How long ago was that?” Arakiel ended up asking while clutching his chest. Somehow, the pain got worse as it began to spread all throughout his body, yet he tried his best to not let it show. Being weak-willed and being a wimp were two very different things.

“I was in my late twenties when I attained my class,” The crafter replied thoughtfully, elaborating. “I am over a hundred years old at this point. You can figure out the rest yourself.”

“But how was life–?”

A sudden sharp pain in his chest cut him off, causing him to bend forward lightly.

Rakim raised an eyebrow.

“Hit me pretty good there,” Arakiel followed up curtly, pursing his lips once more.

His opposite, however, shook his head while a small smile formed on his lips. “The pain’s there to numb your senses lest Aktaie’s influence tear you apart.”

“’scuse me?”

“I needed to know whether you were under an immortal’s spell.” Rakim told him flat-out without a shred of apology.

“Am I?” He coughed as the pain intensified.

It made it hard to think, yet he couldn’t explain it.

When? How? An Enchantment? Arakiel hadn’t seen the Divine Offering cast anything, nor had he noticed a spark being used.

So much pain.

When would it end?

It was hard to think straight.

“You are not – at least not in a traditional sense.” Rakim answered ambiguously.

“M-meaning?”

“Whatever the seelie did to you, it didn’t leave any residue magic behind and if it did, I’m fairly certain your immortal would’ve already subsumed it. They’re actually very possessive when it comes to mortal hosts.” Rakim noted in a perfectly neutral manner which sounded almost cruel at this point.

It felt as though a million little needles were piercing him everywhere and nowhere at once. He had long since started to tremble while his muscles started to cramp in an attempt to tolerate the intolerable.

Another person stepped into his point of view – Aktaie.

He hadn’t seen nor heard her enter, yet Arakiel did see her handing Rakim a small brown ceramic cup. It caused the Godsbinder to reach out, grabbing him by the chin.

“Drink this,” Rakim ordered as he put the cup to Arakiel’s mouth.

With little room for resistance, Arakiel obeyed.

The drink was very sweet and slightly warm, yet it’s consistency was akin to syrup or perhaps thick honey. It was very, very tasty and as soon as he swallowed it, he could almost feel the pain dissolving, starting right where the liquid entered his body.

“Ambrosia is an artifact drink created by a Nature-Astral Constructor. It’ll help you recuperate.” Rakim announced and as if to prove him right, the drink did just that.

If Arakiel hadn’t witnessed his little sister’s true healing magic before, he might’ve called the speed and ease by which he healed miraculous. So instead, he was just glad to feel the pain subside while his own body began to feel very much alive and well.

The breathing steadied, his own senses relaxed and just a few short moments later, he could let out a long sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he said towards both of them and while a part of him felt as though he should apologize for making them use such an expensive drink on him, the other part blamed them for making him need it in the first place.

The Divine Offering offered him a charming smile while her eyes still regarded him with distant coldness.

“This seelie – tell me about her.” The Godsbinder said as he took the cup and put it away.

“Nyanna is… everything I was ever told about immortals.” Arakiel answered as a slight shiver ran down his spine. “Her callous disregard for mortal life, her complete indifference to any and all relations besides the one to her twin.”

“Twin?” Rakim interrupted in what had to be considered surprise, which he commented on right away. “Twins are exceedingly rare for immortals. It requires a kind of trust among their kind they’re simply incapable of.”

“Nyanna and Alanna… They sought to make us their ‘knights’.” Arakiel recalled and this time, the recollection left him mostly numb, even if there was still hatred inside him. “They collected all the soul splinters they’ve planted inside their hosts all throughout the plane… and when they returned they were deformed, unstable.”

The Godsbinder’s expression hardened to stone. “Proliferation… the most gruesome way an immortal can increase its power. It takes a long time, but it is very potent. You were very lucky that you met twins. Their soul is half as potent as it could be.”

This did sent a shiver down Arakiel’s spine as he more or less gasped. To him, Nyanna had already felt insurmountable after their unification – double that and then what…?

“To stabilize and reform their soul, she dragged me into a plant of sorts… I remember nothing about that time… only a haze of pain.” Arakiel went on, admitted.

“Unification.” Rakim noted as if that one term explained everything. But when he noticed Arakiel’s confusion, he went on. “She absorbed your Kalanite soul… your divine ancestry. I can only assume your covenant with your seraphim protected you from the worst of it. Without it, you would be nothing but a normal mortal right now with no innate talents to speak of.”

“What…?” Arakiel gasped once again.

“Another means through which immortals make use of mortals that they then discard,” Rakim elaborated, saying. “My guess is that the only reason you’re alive right now is precisely because you did not lose the entirety of your soul. That probably piqued her interest enough to let you live.”

In his mind, Arakiel added that she took so much more – but if there was one secret he intended to keep at any and all costs, then that one last detail he hadn’t shared yet.

When he remained silent, the Godsbinder went on. “You survived an encounter with a seelie with your mind intact – that’s not something most mortals can claim. They’re some of the higher immortals, commanding several elements at once.”

“She initially used pink soulfire – but her true color is iridescent… like an opal.” Arakiel felt the need to say, to mention.

It caused Rakim to raise an eyebrow. “An iridescent flame, you say?”

Before his inner mind, Arakiel saw the flames that enshrouded the seelie, saw them weave the sigils that would spell his army’s demise.

He nodded gravely.

“There was a saying that an immortal’s flame gave insight into what kind of elemental or sorcerous affinities they held… but time has proven it false time and time again.” Rakim noted as he seemed puzzled for the first time whereas his Divine Offering showed barely any reaction.

If anything, she seemed fairly disinterested.

“What else can you tell me about them?” The Godsbinder continued to ask.

“The two called themselves handmaidens of the Evercourt which is ruled by some Everqueen I wasn’t worthy of knowing the name of.” Arakiel recalled.

There was another lack of reaction on Rakim’s part, much to Arakiel’s dismay.

“Can’t say I’ve heard the name before… but the planes are vast and supposedly endless. You’ll need to make an offering to the Transcended for that, although information on immortals is usually costly to protect mortals from folly ambitions.”

“Is that a thinly veiled hint?” Arakiel felt the need to query with a slightly sardonic voice.

Rakim’s near-deadpan response made him choke. “You are unworthy of facing just about any immortal as you are right now. There’s a reason hunters only target immortals who are about to undergo a succession since that’s when they’re weak… but enough about this for now. I offered you assistance and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

The demigod turned towards his Divine Offering., ordering. “Aktaie, fetch the other two and meet me at the workshop. I’m accepting Alexandria’s request.”

The blonde-haired woman nodded and curtsied towards him. Her response came in a slightly subdued voice. “Of course, Master Rakim.”

The Godsbinder beckoned Arakiel to follow him, leading him out of the back and further upstairs.