Ash opened his eyes to . . . nothing.
He was floating in what felt to Ash like pure nothingness. The absence of space. Somewhere away from Descent, somewhere outside of the boundaries of the universe, where the laws of physics didn’t apply. This was a place that couldn’t be governed, where logic and scientific thinking were useless at unravelling its mysteries.
No, not a place. More like the lack of one. Emptiness.
“Where am I?” He called out. His voice seemed to echo despite the lack of any solid objects.
Ash had ventured into deep space on several occasions at this point, the final Divine Right of Astral Influence always protecting him. He had seen more of the galaxy than any other human, alive or dead. So he knew for certain that this wasn’t space. There were no stars, no planets sinking into the abyss, nothing to indicate that this was the grand battlefield of the gods.
“Who goes there?” Ash boomed out again, swivelling behind as he sensed the presence.
There, a patch of darkness within the darkness, as contrasting as white was to black, he recognised his master.
Out of the smoky dark, a gauntleted hand stretched out. Between the spindly fingers, a writhing yellow energy sparked.
“What you see before you is the last lifeforce of Java’s twin. His name continues to elude me. But that’s how I like it. Let history itself forget him.”
It was hard to tear his eyes away from the floating arm, the rest of Enos nowhere in sight. When Ash managed to do so, he was disappointed to find that no other details had emerged from this empty void.
“Where are we, master?”
“A place between places. An aspect of my soul.”
Ash wanted to ask more, but pressing Enos for answers was not conducive to good health. He had the feeling they should hurry along. “What is it that you wish to show me, my Liege?”
“We don’t have much time before the last traces of the Time god disappear. Sending that twin to the grave to join his brother was troublesome, but it seems my efforts have been rewarded.”
Two gods dead. The first in what must have been centuries. Twins slain, and both by Enos' hand. Joining Teviel in the list of gods Enos had destroyed. Ash felt an ebbing flame inside of him at the thought, warming his insides. He desired to be so powerful, so absolute and inevitable. This was what working with Enos promised. The strength to eat worlds, the authority needed to make deities kneel at his feet and tremble.
To give up such power, for so little; Ash could think of no kinder being in this universe than his master.
“Let me show you,” Enos hardly displayed emotion, but he spoke through an excited whisper. “Let me show you the future the Paladins will weave.”
Enos’ spiked hand opened wide, golden ribbons of power streaming through the room. Ash squinted against the abrasive light, but after his eyes adjusted, couldn’t help but gawk.
The space had transformed. At first glance, they were levitating mid-air, clouds the texture of cotton-candy drifting past. It seemed an early morning, sunlight piercing down to highlight the floating city of Eclipse not far below.
And it was a scene of ruin.
The great statues that supported the chains connecting each island were fully alight. Funeral pyres. It was the first thought that came to Ash’s mind, each of the stone monoliths dripping with blood. The golden Ichor reflected the sunlight, until a halo of death covered the city from every angle.
Ash watched, wide-eyed, as some of the smaller floating islands began to creak. The deathrattle resounded for miles, until, like the first piece of a house of cards falling, it collapsed.
The mound of earth was crumbling long before it struck the earth, thousands of feet below. From the inside of a stone pyramid, men and women carrying their youngest upon their shoulders fled for their lives. But there were no escape routes. The only exit from the island was through the skies, all bridges and links burnt away. Ash recognised the fleeing clansmen as belonging to the Moon Sect. It was far too early to draw from their nightly powers, which only blossomed to their full potential beneath the gloom of their namesake. Yet despite these setbacks, they leaped into the air, summoning clumps of moonstone to fly far, far away.
Not many did.
Tons of stone smashed into the remnants of the Moon Clan, their own home becoming their own destruction. While Ash was fully absorbed in their demise, several other islands had fallen away too.
Statues came toppling down, hundreds of clansmen fleeing as high as their abilities would take them. All of Eclipse looked down at their burning city, like bees fleeing from a flaming hive.
The Unbounded attack was the cherry on top.
There were hundreds of the flying fiends, all being ridden by Paladins. Each of the soldiers were fitted out with the evolving power that a Tainted Mark provided, saddled upon creatures that had once been kept at bay. Now, Ash could only imagine what a graveyard the front lines had become. The Unbounded had finally broken through in full force.
As the Tainted flew into the mob of clansmen, ready to butcher the remaining population of Eclipse, the scene changed.
It took Ash a second to identify what city the soaring towers belonged to. Two cities, in fact. Great Oasis and Heaven’s Pinnacle. Home to the Lawful and Empyrean Alliances, respectively.
This was one part of the world Ash knew little about. Great Oasis was by far the most technologically advanced city Ash had ever seen. In large part due to the domination of the Matter Clan. Carriages and wagons were commonplace, transporting the people around both cities in a fully-fledged transport system. Far more sophisticated than the simple outposts that First Rite and other major cities provided, where carriage-riders would sell their services. Even more impressive were the railroads that curved through Great Oasis, providing easy transport to and around its neighbouring city. The first of its kind, a train, that worked on an engine. Not to mention the electric light sources they used, the strange glass orbs protruding out of street corners and glowing at night. So many revolutionary inventions were being made here.
Would have been made.
Ash could have gone on to admire the city in more detail, including the concrete maze where Nova had hidden away during his final days.
Instead, he inspected the raging fire not far away. A city cast in hellfire: Heaven’s Pinnacle.
The towers of Heaven’s Pinnacle were like the spears of giants, stabbing into a vibrant jungle. Their glass, domed roofs reflected the red that now consumed the trees, making the entire city a headache to even glance at. A thick smog veiled much of the carnage, but Ash watched intently at the silhouette of a building swaying on its foundations. It was hard to judge from this distance, but it must have been easily the size of Damosh’s tower, or the great arboreal tree that was the Wild Sect’s ancestral home in Hybrid. Slithering out of windows, shrieking upon mounds of corpses, were some of the most gnarly-looking fiends Ash had ever encountered. Between them, ignored by the Unbounded, were the Paladins.
They were the image of anarchy, all peering up to one central figure in the sky, raising their weapons in a glorious warcry.
Ash gasped as he saw himself, hands outstretched in front of the sun, a corporate god looking warmly upon his devotees. Pride swelled up in Ash’s chest, and it took all of his self control not to cry out in delight.
This was it. The person he was supposed to be. The harbinger of a new age, a phoenix who would burn with the world, and rebuild it in the image Infinity had always intended.
And he would never be weak again.
The environment changed once more, this time to a perspective that granted him a horizon of both Hybrid and First Rite. All of their ornate traditions, codes of law, institutions and political arrangements. Never before had their insignificance been so clear. He looked up to the razed, beaten wasteland each had been reduced to, at the craters that embedded themselves into the earth at every mile. He could no longer tell the difference between here and the Anarchy Syndicate’s Ravaged Lands.
Hell’s Floor had expanded to cover the entirety of Descent.
A sudden moisture trickled down Ash’s cheeks. His eyes were fountains of joy. Out of a dark mist, that gauntleted hand wiped away the tears. “All of this will come to fruition. Infinity will prevail.”
“So this is going to happen?” Ash asked, desperation bleeding into his voice. “This is destiny?”
The scene began to fade.
“What I show you, my dear servant, is but one possible thread of fate. One outcome.” That empty darkness had returned, and out of that all-encompassing void, two beady eyes pierced into Ash. “It is our duty to Infinity to see that it transpires. Our work now matters more than ever. Is that clear Ash? I cannot understate how important the next few Rebirths will be.”
Ash finally composed himself. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms. “Quite clear, my Liege. Quite clear.”
Space seemed to fly around him. A stabbing pain pierced his brain, and when Ash next opened his eyes, he was met by a vista of blazing colour. He took a second to compose himself, a few slow breaths enough evidence that he was back in the real world. Not that plane of dreams and possibilities that Enos had invited him to.
Behind him, a wall of longboats sat anchored at the shoreline of a beach. Their crews, all Tainted with Enos’ touch, were busy pulling away the sails, tying the ropery, and otherwise trying to make themselves look busy.
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They had reached the first island of the archipelago. A nameless land for a forgotten people.
“Search the island.” Ash called. “If you see even one of the Material Congruity, one person at all, report back here. Keep them captive. We can kill them later if they refuse to comply.” He took a long sip from a canteen of water. “First to find somebody receives extra rations.”
That was all the incentive his people needed, if any. Every last one of the Paladins he had handpicked were fully devoted to the cause.
Ash watched as his people rushed past the initial treeline, wading through all sorts of greenery to enact his bidding.
Leadership. People heeding his every beckon and call . . .
There was no greater feeling.
----------------------------------------
It was a few hours later when somebody came knocking at Ash’s cabin. “Come in,” he called out, after a pause.
Faris entered the captain’s quarters, face blank and servile. Just as Ash liked him. Ash took no time to notice the man he held at spearpoint. A strange fellow, adorned in necklaces of odd trinkets: sharp rocks, vibrant feathers, and what looked to be pointed shards of bone. His sun-beaten face was creased in several places, and the man wore an odd kilt, one that appeared to be made out of straw.
There was an uneasy silence, as Ash stared down at this stranger.
“I found this man trying to hide behind some ferns, to the south-west of the island.” Faris swatted the man’s back. “I asked him where the rest of his people were. Hasn’t spoken a single word. Not even when I beat him.”
Ah yes, Ash could see the line of purple bruises across his collarbone and neck.
Without a word, Ash rose out of his chair, walked past his desk, and came face-to-face with the stranger. They were unlike anyone Ash had ever met before. He was starting to wonder if the mortal tongue would have even survived in these furthest reaches of the world, fully isolated from society since the Barbaric Ages.
With not the faintest movement, Ash allowed his power to flood through the room.
There was no discernable change. Not to the naked eye at least. And Ash most certainly didn’t cause the man any harm. His aura seemingly expanded, like his shadow given a will and mind of its own. Twisting, winding, and otherwise enveloping the entire room with an uncomfortable chill.
The Adam's apple of Faris’ throat visibly bulged. Faris may have gulped, but all credit to this stranger brought before Ash, they didn’t show the slightest reaction.
Only when Faris began to sway on his feet did Ash call back his aura. He didn’t want his clansmen collapsing on him. “Tell me stranger, what is your name?”
The man seemed to consider him for one long breath. “Theodore.”
The word was like a prisoner escaping from the deepest catacombs of some decrepit dungeon. Ash didn’t suppose he was going to get much out of the man, and some dark instinct told him to kill them on the spot. But another feeling was itching at him.
A grudging respect.
“Loyal to your people, Theodore?”
Nothing.
“Do they not teach children to respect their superiors, where you come from? I’m sure you’ve felt the power I possess. I could kill you where you stand.”
Theodore’s features didn’t change a smidge. They painted a cold mask of indifference. Faris brought the sharp end of his spear to the man’s skin. A single drop of Ichor fell to the ground below.
“Do the gods visit you around these parts? The Day of Descension was rather rushed this year, I must admit, with everything that has been happening . . . but I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
With one finger, Ash pushed Faris’ spear away from Theodore. It fell to the ground with a rattle. “We don’t have to be enemies, my good man. Your deities have done you dirty. You have no reason to stand with them. Join my men, the Paladins, and we’ll escort you and your people away from this lousy backwater. Descent is on the brink of the final chapter of the Celestial War, and I offer you the chance to help write it.”
Ash extended his hand. Dancing on the very tips of his fingers, black wisps flickered alluringly. One touch of Theodore, a mere moment’s drop of the man’s mental guard, and he’d join the tainted.
“What do you say?”
Absolute silence reigned supreme. Ash could hear the quiet, steady beating of his own heart. He listened to the sweet music of his certainty. The knowledge that Theodore could not possibly turn him down.
Any moment now, and all of the archipelago would bend their knee to him.
Then something changed in Theodore’s eyes.
He looked over to Ash’s offered hand. The limb was burning with the dark lifeforce of Enos, the sounds of a crackling campfire resounding all around. The way the man stared at the limb, the slight wrinkling of his nose . . . it was like he was staring at something diseased. As if Ash’s arm and hand were dead and rotting.
Theodore spat at Ash’s feet.
“Don’t you dare speak ill of Kolbeinn!”
Theodore’s voice was a thin, seething rasp. Ash was still being swept up by a wave of disgust when the name struck him. Kolbeinn.
“One of your gods, I presume.” He reasoned, trying to stop his lips from twitching into a sneer. “I see you are loyal. There is nothing more disappointing than true dedication to a dead cause.”
Faris blared his Tainted Mark is a blast of power. At once, his body melted into pure water, then back into solid flesh, before a cloud of gas swept into Theodore. Patches of air in the fog made up the details of a face, somehow recognisable as Faris’s screeching visage.
Bone erupted out of Theordore’s forearms, natural spears shooting from his skeleton, out of his skin, and into the air to sever at Faris. The cloud-person was shredded into a fine mist, and Theodore’s body continued to contort. Horns of calcified material stabbed out of his brow, his straw shirt picked through with more protrusions of bone.
Faris condensed into a pool of liquid on the ground. Theodore outclassed the man tremendously in speed, overwhelming the puddle at his feet before Theodore could even hope of reforming. Droplets splattered against the walls of the cabin as Theodore swatted away at the liquid form.
“Stop!”
Ash bled as much authority as he could into his voice, speaking like a true king. Theodore hesitated. It granted the breathing room Faris required to recollect himself, returning to his solid flesh form in the corner of the chamber, where he bled out profusely. He pushed himself against the wall, eyes wide and glued to his attacker. All sense of reason was abandoned, as Faris’ mind entered the great debate at the core of all animal thought. Fight or flight.
Ash placed a hand on Theodore’s shoulder, holding him in place. The gesture granted Faris just enough time to disperse back into fog, sweeping under the tiny gap beneath the cabin door.
Such a waste. Faris’ Tainted Mark had one of the most versatile abilities Ash had ever witnessed, and it had fallen into the hands of a bumbling fool.
“I’m going to grant you one more chance to amend your utter disrespect.” Ash tightened his hold on Theodore’s shoulder until it popped. “I’ll have to excuse your behaviour thus far. I can’t expect savages like you to understand the proper etiquette of-”
A pincer of bone pierced through Ash’s hand.
“I won’t let the poison of your words reach anyone else!” Theodore bared his teeth like a wild predator. “You die with me, here and now!”
There couldn’t have been a more conspicuous time for Ash to smell the smoke.
“What have you-” He grimaced against the pain, his brain flipping in his skull. There was no time. Someone had sabotaged the ship. As the humidity only continued to increase, Ash only grew more certain of it. Their entire fleet could be aflame in the next minute.
Still pinned to Theordore by the hand, Ash hissed, sweeping his arm. Theodore was carried by the movement, slamming into the right wall of the cabin. The entire ship rocked with the impact, pieces of wood falling away from the lining of the boat.
Ash felt Enos probing deeper into his mind. Felt the Unbounded’s influence creeping into his words. His voice emerged as a coarse, grating rasp. “I’m going make you watch as I enslave all of your clan, all of the archipelago, one by one!”
An eruption of power blasted out of Ash, His Tainted Mark revving into action. One moment, the pair of them were primed to fight, a smoking cabin ensnaring them. The next, the planks of the ship had simply dismantled, flying in all directions as Ash sank into the water below.
The world was drained of noise. Ash looked up, metres deep underwater and holding his breath, at the underside of a thick black paste. The layer of oil was burning brightly, a kaleidoscope of colour and harsh angles blinding Ash for a moment.
The shore was filled with submerged Paladins, charred logs, and strange-looking men and women that Enos’ influence didn’t quite reach. Closer inspection proved Ash’s earlier hypothesis correct: Theodore had company. It had been a trap all along, with Theodore, who Ash now recognised as the Bone Sect’s leader, masquerading as a mute barbarian the entire time.
Theodore was upon him within seconds. Despite the flaming ceiling of the frothing waters, little light penetrated into the murky depths. The illuminating star of Astral Influence glowed through the murk, highlighting Theodore’s savage sneer in sharp relief. The man spun through the water as elegantly as a fish, a living drill zooming towards Ash.
Ash’s Divine Right over celestial affairs was of limited use here. It was almost like the Bone Clan had anticipated Ash’s assault. This was one environment where he couldn’t just rely on Enos’ favour.
But the power of the Wilderness goddess, Chantal, raged through him still. Ash had never possessed exceptional authority over water, the Wild domain of power barely breaching into that over-occupied domain. Tainted by Enos’ touch, however, he found the undulating waters responding with much more enthusiasm to his call.
The water pressure increased tenfold around Theodore, slowing down his flashy advance. A punch, reinforced by all the Infinity you could ever need, saw the Bone Clan leader shatter.
Theodore crossed two spiked forearms in a quick guard, all of the bone fracturing at the contact. Ash was yet to discern the man’s Rank, but regardless, now wasn’t the time to hold back.
He grasped Theodore by the throat, flying up towards the ooze of oil that the Bone Clan had so generously donated. The pair of them blasted through the murk, rose through a fiery nebula, and Ash never ceased his flight upwards.
Physical space seemed to skip forward. Before he knew it, Ash was floating in the upper stratosphere of Descent, the battleground of the gods, space, looming overhead in a stark void. Ash had keen eyes, and even from these outer reaches of the planet, he could see the conflict raging below.
The Bone Clan may have possessed the element of surprise, but petty tricks would never level the playing field. His Paladins were in another league.
Several of the ships had survived the hungry fire, and a full-scale sea battle was well under way. Batches of clansmen fought on the decks of the remaining boats, Tainted and Bone alike. A surrounding mile of flotsam provided surfaces for the rest of the conflict, and men desperately clung to barrels. Faris had reformed to take on the shape of an angry storm. Yet, most terrifying, were the ships of bone rapidly approaching. Emerging out of the distant mists that encompassed the archipelago.
The architecture of nightmares, the skeleton ships cut through the steaming waters, their elegant grace telling of a master shipwright. Ash recalled the tale of the bony vessels: the very same that had been summoned by the ancestors of the Bone Clan. Back when they had set sail from the mainland of Descent alongside the rest of the Material alliance, desperate to escape from the world’s thoughtless bloodshed.
One had to wonder, who were the real barbarians here? The thought made Ash smile wickedly.
Ash could have looked at the beautiful view forever, but Theodore wasn’t going to give up and die without his intervention. Or would he?
The chillness that characterised these higher reaches had doused both of their flames. Yet a new threat saw Theodore’s undoing. Ice had rapidly formed over the man’s body, visibly spreading across his limbs, reaching now for his eyelids and preventing them from fully closing.
“You’ll never win.” Theodore rasped. His eyes were bloodshot, perhaps a sign death had arrived, keen to collect his toll.
Ash could have laughed at the words. It was like watching children in a playground, trying to act tough. While some beings had the decency to perish with honour and dignity, in his final moments, Theodore missed even the mark of pity.
“I already have, Theordore.”
In one sudden turn, Ash tossed Theodore down, blasting the man back towards the surface of Descent, where he quickly picked up speed. The straw material of his clothing took on a new flame, as the man became smaller and smaller to Ash’s vision. A human comet taking flight.
“I already have.”