The world was an indistinct blur as Wrayeth carried Kade and his companions across mountains and water at speeds beyond imagining. Kade felt like luggage as he was pressed back against the carrying contraption that was somehow constructed of his own power. He was wondering whether the intense pressure might be dangerous for his companions when the unusual trip ended as suddenly as it began.
They were in darkness, but only for a moment as green fiery lights ignited one by one around a massive chamber, even larger than the one they’d just been taken from. Kade sat up in his coffin-like construct, and examined his new surroundings while an intense dizziness slowly faded.
The structure was entirely made of dark stone, but was clearly built, and not a natural formation. He and his companions had been deposited in front of a large set of metal doors that were likely a comfortable size for his rescuer, even if they seemed impractical from Kade’s point of view. In front of them were rows of shelves that seemed to go on forever, as they disappeared into the distance, where the chamber appeared to twist and branch off.
Kade got to his feet, needing a moment to steady himself, and still feeling sick and weak from his ordeal with Lothros. He made his way over to one of the tightly packed shelves, and was surprised to find it was filled entirely with books.
Wrayeth was there suddenly, brushing past him to grab a volume from a higher shelf, and moving on without a word. Kade followed the odd man as he disappeared around the next shelf, only to find him settling into what looked like a particularly comfortable chair, and beginning to read.
He glanced at Kade when he noticed he wasn’t alone. Wrayeth looked over his shoulder at a nearby closed door, then spoke, “Your host still needs a few minutes. Don’t touch my books,” he said, then went back to reading. Kade cocked his head, then looked back to the shelves. They all appeared to house books. There had to be tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of them, but the mention of a ‘host’ was far more interesting for the moment.
“Um, sorry to interrupt,” he began, not sure what to make of his eccentric rescuer, “who is this host? And maybe, who are you, if you don’t mind me asking? I heard what you told Lothros–”
“Karavash,” the man interrupted without looking up. “He was always Karavash, though he managed to hide it well for quite some time.”
“Right,” Kade replied, though honestly he was incredibly confused. “And how, exactly is the High Priest of Karthas actually a long-dead Elder?”
“No,” Wrayeth said with finality.
“Uh, no, what?”
“No, I won’t be answering any questions about that prick’s resurrection, or your own complex origins,” he replied. “Save that for Sythkara, I wash my hands of the whole foolish ordeal. My brother asked me to save your life, and I did, because he seldom asks for favors. But now, my part is over.”
“Your brother…” Kade said, “Loth–Karavash, called you a son of Tyranos. So that would make your brother–”
“Korthos,” he replied, gesturing upward with a finger while still looking at his book.
“The sun,” Kade said slowly, his head hurting. “The sun asked you to save me?” Wrayeth let out a dramatic sigh and slammed his book shut.
“Fine, if you can’t wait quietly then you may ask me some questions. But,” he said, holding up a finger, “if they’re too boring, or too stupid, I get to read, and you sit quietly until Syth is ready for you. And no questions about you, as I said before.” Kade raised an eyebrow. He only vaguely understood who this man was from the confusing visions he’d witnessed in the Chaos Fragment of Karavash, but surely he was from before the calm. Who knew what secrets he might possess?
There was an uncomfortable amount of pressure, as Kade wasn’t sure what this strange being’s barometer for ‘boring’ or ‘stupid’ was, so he decided to start with something safe. “I’ve only heard of the sons of Tyranos through Karavash, and I’ve never heard your name mentioned before…can you tell me about yourself?” The tall man leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes.
“So I’m the subject of the question? You better hope I don’t consider myself stupid or boring,” he paused dramatically, then barked a laugh. “You win! I am the third son of Tyranos, a bastard so miserable, vicious, and cruel, that he makes Karavash look like…well, a priest. Hmm, that fell apart quickly.” He got up, and stretched.
“As I was saying, Tyranos was a conquering monster who did a singular interesting thing: he sired four sons. He may have even been the first to do so–our history is too fragmented to be sure. He thought he’d found a way to create a powerful new generation without the overpowering desire to kill their parent, and he was right.”
Kade cocked his head at that, but carefully didn’t interrupt with questions. Wrayeth noticed his reaction, “Ah, you’ve seen the discrepancy. True, we weren’t born with the desire to kill our father, but as I mentioned: he was still the greatest prick that ever lived.” Wrayeth closed his eyes and brought his hands together in front of him as if savoring something. “I still remember when Korthos burned him alive. It was a special day.”
The man genuinely seemed lost in the memory, and after two minutes of waiting Kade gave in and risked a question. “What did you and your brothers do after…that?” Wrayeth reluctantly let go of his reverie.
“We ruled, more or less. Father had already taken over most of Iros, so it wasn’t a particularly exciting existence. For a time we did what many do in their youths–at least back when Iros was fun–we traveled the cosmos, conquering and destroying any worlds capable of posing an interesting challenge.”
He sighed, “But Korthos was unfulfilled. Eventually we returned home, and he did as Tyranos had before him, and begat his own litter of brats. I’ll grant that he was a better father than our own, but that’s a criminally low bar.” His tone became serious for the first time, “My nephews were good boys, whatever their mad ambitions.”
He collected himself with a shake of his head, “But you asked of my brothers. I’m sure you know that our sun burned itself away. I understand it’s practically the only lore that survived the Calm. Korthos sacrificed himself to keep Iros alive, which truthfully surprised us all. None of us knew exactly what to do after that.
“My other older brother, Caesarus, was never satisfied. He would have traveled forever conquering worlds, and so he came up with a plan to do exactly that. Our youngest brother is named Tythus–an earth-touched–and he never quite shared the ambitions of my elder brothers. When he decided to enter the Trance, Caesarus convinced him to do it in a rather spectacular way.
“He had Tythus use his powers to make a new planet, one that Caesarus could rule, and pilot around the universe. He even carved off a piece of this world’s core, so he could take the power of Iros with him. He’s still out there right now, doing what he loves, admirable and laughable all at once. I miss him.” Wrayeth returned to his seat.
“As for me? Well, you’ve seen what I do. I read. I travel to other worlds occasionally and gather their knowledge, maybe some other souvenirs along with it, and then I return to enjoy my retirement.” He put on an irritated expression, “Though sometimes that’s interrupted by saving you, apparently, while simultaneously embarrassing myself in a fist fight with a worm like Karavash.”
“You seemed to hold your own,” Kade said hesitantly. “That thing you did at the end–” Wrayeth waved away the comment in irritation.
“You have no idea. That little pet of the Gods should be nothing to me, but I can’t use my power without risking undoing everything my nephews died for,” he said.
“What, why?” Kade said reflexively, and Wrayeth narrowed his eyes.
“That was two questions, both nearly stupid,” he said with a smirk. “Syth will explain, but suffice to say that I’m what you’d consider an ‘Elder’, though I was never calmed like the rest, and Karavash could sense it. If I were to unleash my Soul Core, I’d be channeling pure, untainted ‘Chaos’ as you think of it. At the very least I’d taint this entire continent. Likely the whole world if I needed to fully unleash myself.”
Kade’s eyes widened in alarm. Karavash had called this man the ‘weakest’ of the sons of Tyranos, but he was starting to understand how meaningless that distinction might be. He sensed he was running out of time, however, and pounced on another question the man had reminded him of. “You called Karavash a ‘pet of the Gods’. Everyone I’ve met has called them the ‘Lost Gods’...do you know where they are? Or what they are?”
Wrayeth seemed to consider the question before answering. “Frankly that should be a stupid question, but everyone left on Iros is so hopelessly naive that I suppose it’s valid. The Gods are anything but lost. You see them every night.” He seemed to be waiting for Kade to make a connection, but Kade’s mind was still so addled that he could barely think. “I’ll give you a hint: there are fifteen of them.”
Kade did a double take, “The moons?” His mind went back to the vision he’d experienced in Karthas, the moons lighting up as the next generation was born into this world. If they were truly part of the cycle, or even responsible for the cycle, then maybe ‘Gods’ wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Wrayeth was watching him with amusement. “But what are they? They can’t just be…”
“Big floating rocks? Difficult to say. I’ve been to them, and they are exactly that. But also somehow…more. I couldn’t damage them, and I could see evidence that I wasn’t the first to try.” He smiled, “We’re a stubborn people, we don’t like things we don’t understand. But…the Gods are certainly that.” He gestured to the rows of books.
“I’ve found countless broken histories in the buried Kingdoms of this world, but no matter how far back I manage to look, the Gods have remained a mystery. The best theory I’ve heard is that they were the First Ones,” he said. “The first Children of Iros, grown so impossibly powerful over the eons that creating us, then watching as we kill and die for their amusement is all they have left.”
Wrayeth stood up suddenly, looking back at the door. “Ah, but our time is finally up. Let’s collect your companions and bring them to the old man.” Kade was caught by surprise, and as he followed the son of Tyranos back to his friends, he tried desperately to think of any more questions that only this man could know.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Wait, what’s the Flaw?” Wrayeth stopped, and looked down at Kade in amusement, then spoke as he resumed walking.
“A legacy of the old world. You see those giant mindless creatures out there, broken by ages in the Trance, and I can’t imagine how you envision what our world once was.” He paused as he reached the energy construct holding the others, and looked wistfully into the distance as he lifted them. “But it was beautiful, in its way. The Kingdoms were societies–not that you’d recognize them as such. The Kings fought, their armies clashed, but they also ruled, and the Servant Bond is what made that possible.”
“Servant Bond?” Kade prompted as Wrayeth began returning to the closed door.
“You call it a Flaw, and in your people perhaps it is. But once it was the only way that two Children of Iros could coexist. The Bond would compel you to follow the most powerful being you could find, and only by growing strong enough to break it would you be able to turn against your master.” They reached the single door and Wrayeth pushed it open, not breaking stride.
Beyond was a long corridor, with numerous rooms on either side. Wrayeth spoke as he led them toward an open door at the end, flickering light shining through. “Our world was never perfect, but it had cultures, empires, and art. It just never had peace. You’ll need to be especially aware of the Servant Bond; it will be a dangerous thing if you and your people survive this trial.”
Kade desperately wanted to ask more, but they’d arrived. The open door led to a room lit by thousands of glowing symbols of every color. Kade looked around in fascination as Wrayeth began unloading his companions. The room was large, but there was almost no room to move given that every surface was covered in the strange, flowing arcane script. Not able to make any sense of what he was seeing, Kade followed Wrayeth to the center of the room where a cloaked man of Kade’s size was facing away from them.
“You’re early,” came a weak voice. “Was our guest asking too many questions?” Sythkara turned around, his long dark cloak sweeping back in a familiar way as he did so. Kade had to stop himself from gasping. The man was ancient. His long hair was thin and white, and his skin was so wrinkled and emaciated that the man looked more dead than alive. Still, there was no denying he was one of the four from Karavash’s memories.
“Everything he asked skirted the edges of answers better left to you,” Wrayeth replied as he aligned the unconscious Edwin, Graves, and Salarus into the center of three different circles drawn with the odd symbols. Finally he lifted the carrier with the still form of Cerano encased within. “I’ll take this one back to his people. I should be back before you’ve completed your work to do my part. The boy would die if I tried now.” Sythkara nodded, and then they were suddenly alone.
“I hope my Uncle didn’t make your stay too unpleasant. He doesn’t approve of what my brothers and I have done, and he fights his own urges to resist undoing it.” Kade wasn’t sure how to answer. The moment he’d seen this man he’d felt a familiarity beyond what he could explain, and now that he was alone with him, it was hard to concentrate on anything else.
“He said you could give me answers,” Kade said at last, scared to even ask the question that burned in his mind. What am I? The old Sorcerer gave the smallest hint of a smile.
“I will give you answers, Kade. I’m sorry you had to wait so long for them. I’m afraid I didn’t have them all myself, until recently.” He walked toward the far younger man. “I must finish my work, we have very little time before Karavash finishes his dark business, and undoes everything. Experience the truth for yourself,” his hand reached up and touched Kade’s chest, and then he was somewhere else once more.
***
“Spy,” his older brother whispered, and with a gesture the servant was wiped from existence, Oblivion taking her.
“Spy? For whom?” Drakus asked, his silver armor gleaming as he withdrew the metal bonds that had held the prisoner.
“I can’t be sure,” Psylaric replied, his empty eye sockets staring off into the distance. “I could only barely sense the connection, but someone out there knows what we’re planning.”
“I don’t want to seem like I’m not taking this seriously, but does it even matter?” Kadeus asked, crossing his arms over the golden armor covering his chest. “Is there a single being left on Iros that’s a genuine threat to us?”
Sythkara looked at his younger brother, trying not to smirk. “Does the Third Prince really think himself untouchable in this ancient world?” he asked.
Kadeus laughed, “Unless Spiros has somehow returned without us noticing, then yes, brother, I’m untouchable.” Drakus and Syth shared a glance, then pointedly looked from their cocky brother to the scarred, expressionless face of Psylaric. Kadeus rolled his eyes theatrically, “Obviously I wasn’t counting you three,” he said defensively.
“Enough,” rasped the First Prince. “We’ll consider the spy later. Syth, tell us your plan.” The Sorcerer nodded, and the mood grew somber once more. From his robes he pulled the simple white rod, and placed it on the table between them.
“The Cycle has served its purpose. All the Children of Korthos are capable of reproducing without it, but if we don’t change something, a new generation of bloodthirsty thralls will be born eventually, and we’ll either slaughter them or be slaughtered in turn,” his three brothers nodded, all prepared for that dark eventuality.
“The World Shaper can be used to remove one of the Gods–Auctor Vitae being the obvious choice,” Drakus bristled at the talk of removing the first among the Gods, but he didn’t speak against it. He understood the importance of what they were discussing. “But that will leave untold millions of sleeping Elders beneath our feet. There can be no peace when they still wake by the thousands each year.”
“Thus, your marvelous new spell?” Kadeus said, the grin back on his face. Syth sighed.
“Correct. I believe I can use Auctor Vitae’s own power to…invert the energy inside the slumbering Elders. It should–for the most part–keep them in a perpetual state of calm, and thereby keep our people safe.” The other three princes exchanged looks, waiting for anyone to object. Perhaps even waiting for someone to call out this mad, blasphemous idea as folly, but none did.
“Well then,” Kadeus said, still grinning, “I guess we go kill a God. Sounds easy.”
***
Sythkara felt Drakus die, even from the relative safety of his hiding place deep underground. It had all gone so wrong. Drakus had warned them that the Gods wouldn’t sit idly as the brothers plotted the destruction of the Cycle, but they’d been so confident. Arrogant, really, never doubting their own power. Now their father’s Kingdom was in ruins, and the last of their people were dying all over Iros.
They could never have prepared for Karavash Emerging, now more God than Elder. Nor could they have believed that the Gods above would bend their own rules to create a false generation of thralls to follow Karavash. As Sythkara desperately tried to amend his spell to account for the latest in a long line of setbacks, he lamented that the people they’d been trying to build a new world for would never see it.
Sitting alone in the dark chamber, the burning runes of his greatest spell all around him, Syth could only think that this was all his fault, and fought every instinct to simply abandon the spell and join his brothers in battle. But he also knew he was the only hope of making something from this terrible tragedy, and so he continued his work.
He had just completed his preparations when he felt Psylaric’s explosive end, and he stood locked in place for a moment. Part of him had thought his older brother unkillable, but today was teaching him many painful lessons. When he sensed something new occurring, he realized they had even less time than he’d believed. A swift spell tore open a portal, and the light of his father shone through. Was it disapproving, somehow?
He stepped out into the endless fields of slaughter, and saw that he was nearly too late. The countless bodies had begun to shake and quiver as the power of the Gods gathered. Syth raced to the body of Karavash, unmissable with its impossible scale. That Psylaric had managed to embed the World Shaper even as he fell was a remarkable feat, and Syth followed its pull to the center of the body’s Soul Core.
He was just in time to watch Kadeus dissolve into nothingness as the World Shaper took in the last of his essence. Syth cried out in pain and rage at the sight, hating that he’d had to see his last remaining brother die in front of him, and hating even more that he’d been only a moment too late to be there with him as it happened.
Above, the moons entered alignment, and their light began to intensify. There were only moments left. Most of Sythkara’s own power had already been sacrificed to the World Shaper before the battle had begun, so all that was left was to activate the spell he’d been preparing for weeks.
He ran forward, removing his staff as he did so, and joined it to the World Shaper just as the lightning that heralded the Cycle began to fall. He ignored it, focusing all his waning strength on the complex spell. As the fissure formed behind him and countless dead Children of Korthos were pulled inside, fuel for another generation of slaves to the Cycle, his spell flared to life.
As the sky lit up in silver, reflected in the massive fissure, a single pillar of white light erupted from the top of the World Shaper, colliding with one of the many glowing moons. With Auctor Vitae. There was no sound as the massive object began to collapse in on itself, but all of Iros seemed to vibrate as the God was crushed down and pulled into the simple white rod.
Sythkara held to his staff and the Artifact as the final element of his spell began, the trapped power of Auctor Vitae gathering to impossible heights, before bursting all at once. A wave of energy, new energy spread outward toward every corner of Iros, catching on and burrowing into every Elder that it came in contact with, and changing them.
They’d done it. Sythkara was barely alive, but he could feel the change. The energy was different, gentler, calm. He was so overwhelmed that he only belatedly stopped to consider that he’d somehow survived. That hadn’t been part of the plan. His body was ragged and weak, he’d never expected to live beyond casting the spell, and it felt so wrong to have done so.
He instantly resolved to end his own life, as the pain of his loss and the shame for what he’d done was too simply too much, but then he sensed something. He turned toward the fissure, and his eyes widened in alarm. He’d been too late. The new generation was here.
But something was different. As he stared at the fissure, the enormous wave of ravenous young never came. Instead, people emerged, looking confused and frightened. Sythkara watched in disbelief as thousands climbed from the tear in the earth, some even helping others as they did so, and the truth struck him.
The Cycle had failed. It hadn’t been complete when the World Shaper had ripped one of the Gods from the sky, and this oddity was the result. The wave of calm energy must have played its own part, as he could sense the difference in these people. Syth was considering what his responsibility to these people truly was, when something drew his attention. With a small, strangely unremarkable crack, the white rod split in half.
Syth kneeled down to pick up the two pieces of the powerful artifact. Immediately he was shocked with yet another revelation: there was power still in the broken pieces, familiar power. He tossed aside the piece that felt unmistakably like Karavash, and instead cradled the other close to himself.
He could feel them. The echoes of his brothers were still inside. They’d each given of themselves to make the spell work, but somehow the barest sliver of each remained. He even felt a remnant of himself deep within the artifact.
But there was also something else. Something vast, and powerful. Something furious. Auctor Vitae was trapped inside as well, and it wanted out. Syth’s mind raced as he considered what needed to be done, and he reached for the piece he had dropped, only to find it gone. He could feel the impressions left in the energy: Iros had taken the Artifact back, to be reborn at some unknown time, half of a vengeful God trapped inside.
Panic tore into Syth’s mind. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let so much sacrifice and death be for nothing. He knew he didn’t have much time, he could feel the Artifact in his hand trying to return to the planet, so he summoned the last of his strength for one final spell. Something simple…just a magical nudge. He couldn’t stop the World Shaper from being reborn…but maybe he could change where it would be reborn.
He opened a small portal to a world he’d visited once, one that hadn’t been worth conquering. He felt the rhythms of that unremarkable world, and saw safety in its near complete lack of exotic energy. All he felt was the slightest hum of some rare metals, buried deeply under the planet’s surface. There was just enough energy to tether the broken World Shaper to those shards of metal, and then it was gone.
Then his brothers were gone.