The colossal reverberation of a horn blared throughout the valley, likely heard by all civilizations nearby, warning of something even the Ke would have considered a threat.
Elinor calmly turned to see Sari’aél stir on her bed, the Seraph’s mostly restored wings rising; the influx of divine force must have forced her conscious, but she couldn’t deliberate on the topic for long.
Memories of times long past, fractured pieces of her many incarnations blooming like supernovae in an instinctual knowledge of vast periods she’d experienced by the resonance her little sister and the heavens momentarily parting had revealed.
Noa appeared by her side, face ashen with fright. “Empress—”
“They’re already here,” Elinor muttered, vision wandering to the titanic entities of the Covenant materializing around the room, two of which she had yet to have met, and not one spoke as they observed her.
Their immense collective presence weighed down on her Maids’ returned spirits, causing them to fall to the ground; the Seraph swiftly flew to her side to support them with her own peaceful aura, although their horrific company failed to have the same ring to Elinor as it once had.
“Edmon!” Tiffany growled, Azalea taking up a defensive position in front of Elinor.
“I can’t get there fast—”
“There is no fear of conflict with the Covenant,” Sari'aél’s soothing voice interjected.
“Noa,” Elinor coolly stated, internally and aloud to silence the panic seeping through the Nexus at the Covenant’s sudden arrival, “if you could transport Theresa and Luisina below before taking Azalea, Edmon, and us to the War Council room on the twentieth floor of the Tower to discuss the previous event.”
“Empress… Umm,” Noa teleported the two maids, yet hesitated on the other command, drawing her emerald gaze. “I wanted to warn you—my father has been resurrected…”
Tinted lips tightening at the turn of events, Elinor’s eyes wandered between the growing Covenant members appearing around them; at least they were currently keeping their peace, showing they understood she needed to address the confusion in her ranks. “Explain.”
“Well… When the sky split open—there was a massive influx of forces, which, umm, seemed to have triggered some kind of action in what you call the Life Fruit.”
Tiffany hissed, already on edge by the silent and hovering entities observing them, some smiling and others giving imperceptible expressions. “What is Ke’Thra’Ma doing?”
“So far as I can see… He is sitting on the ground, puzzling out his situation with a cowering human nearby.”
The Witch’s fingers tightened into fists. “Ugh… Our Head of State candidate was also brought back to life.”
Pondering the addition, Elinor clasped her hands behind her back and smiled; many things were clearing in her foggy brain. “Noa, teleport Ke’Thra’Ma to the War Council with us—Edmon, Tiffany, direct the others to calm the Empire… I will make an emergency announcement in the coming hours.”
Tiffany tried to smile as she took control. “I understand—mmh?!”
As the environment changed to their new location, runes spinning into existence around them, Elinor took a new Passive Skill and destroyed 65% of her Unintelligent Undead.
“Elinor, why… Our forces are…”
Unneeded. I am not a necromancer, Tiffany… I am The Jailor of the Damned.
The 3,000 Death Energy she’d spent to talk to her sister was restored at the sacrifice—thousands of bones crumbled to the floor—and she took several more Skills from the many points she’d gained from absorbing the experience of the Seeds in the two humans.
A small smirk lifted her cheeks as she appeared on the hard-silk platform of Ke’Thra’Ma’s colossal chair—she stood at the head of the table—while the intimidating, eight-limbed, two-headed, 10-meter tall white gorilla rose to his full height, two long tails spreading out. He was a few dozen meters to the left of the massive table.
“Ke’Thra’Ma,” Elinor greeted, “welcome back to the living world.”
“Hmm…” Hot air pumped through his nostrils; his toothy grin flashed as the ape’s eyes scanned the powerful entities taking the various seats of his former Kings and Queens. “Interesting… Empress Elinor, much has changed since we last spoke.”
So, he does remember our chat; it is imprinted on their spirits when I communicate with them.
Sari'aél came between them when the Ke moved to loom above her, focused on Elinor’s position, standing on the Warlord’s previous seat; Edmon jumped to stand beside her to be her defense, but Elinor simply took a step back and situated herself on the propped up silken chair Violet had crafted.
“I’m sure you’re looking for answers, Ke… Will you join us?”
The Covenant patiently studied the giant Warlord, some with amusement and others annoyed, as Elinor ordered Azalea to customize the wide chairs to support the various members.
Tiffany had already performed a ritual in this room, so all that spoke could be heard clearly from anywhere in the room.
All focus was on Ke’Thra’Ma as his fist came down on the thick wood, protective runes fracturing and several being destroyed by his action, sending a concussive blast of wind that pressed against Elinor’s frame—she didn’t flinch—yet the ape only laughed.
“You have piqued my curiosity, Empress… And finally, hehe, I meet creatures worth my presence,” he grinned at the Covenant, either forming their own sort of chairs and removing the others or happily waiting for Azalea to do it for them, such as Bo-Ko.
Ke’Thra’Ma moved to the Crimson Chair—the only one large enough for him—besides the one Elinor occupied—and dropped into it, motioning to the trembling Runic A.I.
“So, you’ve changed, Noa. Humph. Show me what has become of my Empire—what has been done in my absence… Hmm, is that how it is?” he mused, rubbing under his left chin as Noa quaked, looking to Elinor for permission.
“Go on, Noa,” Elinor allowed, returning the ape’s stare without reserve, “but Ke, you do recall what I said regarding your people?”
“Humph… I will confirm things for myself.”
“Fair. Now, members of the Covenant, I appreciate your civility and patience. Unfortunately, I would burden you longer… Is that acceptable, Sar’ollaz?”
“Hmm…” The Devil’s ghastly jaws parted, blood swirled around his horns and teeth, intimidating ruby eyes gleaming with an inner light as his calculating voice projected to all. “We have arrived unannounced. Decorum would see fit to give a member proper time to conduct their business in the wake of such a… disturbing event.”
Nodding to show her acceptance, Elinor used Voukey’s long-distance communication ability to connect to the General, flying swiftly to return to aid her in the unknown pulse that had shaken the Nexus to its core.
“Empress?!”
I am perfectly fine, Voukey. Redirect your flight to meet with Iris; Tiffany will inform her of what is being spoken in this meeting as it progresses.
“Yes, Empress!”
Edmon, Tiffany, Sari'aél…
“Yes?” the Seraph answered, spinning in the area to give her a gracious bow; Edmon and Tiffany stood on the table’s edge before her.
I will address this myself. Calm the others; I need to focus my thoughts.
A little surprised at her declaration, the pair nodded and reluctantly took the thrones prepared for them.
Knowing many of her subjects would be making their return to try and understand if there had been a drastic metamorphosis in the Empire and if their current orders were subject to change, she accepted it.
In fact, many things were shifting in Elinor’s mind, and it could spell a dramatic deviation in how she moved forward; attitude turning cold and calculating, her emotions settling back into the chilling rational edge they had been before, Elinor appraised her audience.
Fingers folding in her lap to cover her little sister’s purified earring, Elinor saw Ke’Thra’Ma examine the information Noa displayed for him; he seemed to be distracted.
Naturally, she knew Sar’ollaz wanted to jump in and demand answers—he had his rules, though, and she would play to them—Elinor desired certain knowledge herself, and a wealth of experience was filtering into existence within her being. Give and take; negotiation was the game of the Covenant.
Most of them she knew. Sar’ollaz sat across from her; Balmuraun being inside the organization's leader—the dying deity his people once worshiped—and to Elinor, he was likely a being of the 7th or 8th dimension.
Arsheh, the Ralgruthiash mockingbird-like woman—likely as powerful as the 4th dimension—floated in the air nearby, over the Black Throne; the hollow eyes of the aviary entity studying her intently, looking for things Elinor couldn’t see.
Situated in the Orange Throne was Aidrh’ruz, the homunculus ape fiend with a flaming crown, which had some form of power and gluttony for the mind and spirit. Such a creature could have sight into the 4th dimension yet likely was on the cusp.
Bo-Ko was chatting with a confused Azalea, asking her if he could be her friend so they could play string games together; the little owl was captivated by her webs. In terms of time passed since their last encounter, it was an even day, meaning his darker half was suppressed.
Expectedly, Orinvia was present, sitting beside Ke’Thra’Ma, and without a doubt agitated, although the extra-dimensional warrior had an entirely different cadence to the last time she’d seen her.
A sharply focused force resonated out of her, reminding Elinor that Sari'aél couldn’t compete with the creature at the Seraph’s base form, requiring the angel to release the first stage of her Divinity Release ability.
Baxter wasn’t present.
So, Elinor’s attention was drawn to the two new additions; she needed to extend the casual banter to give her entangled mind time to settle in the cyclone that filled it, and now her chilled heart was inflamed with emotions of ages past.
It was as if she’d watched a movie and recalled it as someone brought it up; the recollection wasn't perfect, yet she understood the plot and critical points.
This restoration of knowledge had been brought on by her sister’s revived spirit, resonating with hers to pull back the natural curtain that draped over it in their passing and resurrection.
One thing she knew without a doubt about her little sister—Inanna, or Ishtar, as Elinor knew her in their previous life—were bitter enemies, and Elinor understood the reason for their conflict well. It was always about power with her little sister, but something had changed in the wake of her sister’s final gambit and the Seed’s addition.
Mind returning to the conference, Elinor’s emerald irises settled on one of the new creatures; it hovered above the Yellow Throne and was composed of muscular, gray flesh, and glowing turquoise globes with swirling brain matter.
However, as she observed the beast, it morphed into a sort of alien jellyfish before becoming a more humanoid 3-meter tall specter, retaining its previous colors and blue liquid-like features.
Focus settling on the Devil across from her, Elinor added a dark smile. “It appears more members have joined us, Sar’ollaz. Might they introduce themselves, or can they without the support of Sha’Guala?”
Her soft, soothing voice was like running water, and the creature delivered her words in a noble cadence. “I can communicate perfectly well; that being said, learning your… unusual and unrefined dialect was rather tedious. You may address me as Les’ndrassa, or Bringer of the Tide.”
“Hmm-hmm. I appreciate honesty, Les’ndrassa, and… what of you?” she asked, directing her gaze to a 12-meter tall, muscular, demonic man that had spontaneously shrunk to 8-meters to sit on the Green Throne. His shockingly long tail, longer than even Ke’Thra’Ma’s, slowly drifted back and forth.
He had a bare chest and armor covering his abdomen down, being far more human-like than any of the other entities, yet coming off more demonic than anything else.
“Hmm-hmm-hmm.” His deep voice was like lava, rumbling boulders crashing down mountains. “It seems it is time to finally reveal the grand secret you’ve been keeping from me, Becdeth… A Divine in the flesh, he-he-he. You always were crafty to hide your truths in vague comments.”
Elinor’s vision was drawn to the organic slitted eye in the front of the protective interlocked plates covering his abs as it flicked to her. A smirk showed jagged teeth, and flaming orange irises appraised her as his legs spread comfortably.
Sar’ollaz’s eyes narrowed, drifting to the chuckling eldritch entity that gave no words in response. “Is that right, Sylez… You knew, Becdeth? For how long… before The Daughter of the Sun made her appearance?”
An amused hum came from Arsheh. “Mmh. Let’s not pretend anything Becdeth does is without importance. Is Becdeth ever surprised? I think not… yet how Elinor has been treated is now brought to light. Still, I could not see it in her when we first met; this… Seed hides it well.”
Orinvia’s harsh snarl followed. “Divine—mortal—it doesn’t matter. In two days, I shall show myself superior to this Daughter of the Sun.”
“Oh? Is that right,” Sylez mused. “I can’t say I know much about this little contest. You have my interest, Orinvia.”
The solemn frown Ke’Thra’Ma wore while studying the runic designs Noa showed him split into a grin, vision drifting to the smiling Seraph, still showing slight damage to her wings. “As you have mine. A contest of strength? Hmm-hmm. A grand way to entertain my return.”
Elinor could see the Ke’s fingers tighten around his chair’s armrest as the titanic entities turned his way; he certainly did meet the qualifications to sit in such company, but without a doubt, some of these creatures far outstripped the strongest Quen’Talrat—still, he didn’t back down from their intimidating aura.
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“Humph,” Orinvia grunted, deep black alien eyes shifting to the Seraph; she lifted her unnaturally extended arm for sparks to dance off her claws, forming a black hole. “I could crush you without a thought in your pathetic state.”
Runes flashed across the room in the wake of the energies she was gathering, yet a leisurely gesture from Les’ndrassa caused a flash of blue light to encompass the force, neutralizing it.
“Have a modicum of rapport, Orinvia. We are guests in the Empress’ home.”
“Mmgm…”
Elinor was half-surprised the alien woman settled down at the rebuke, and Ke’Thra’Ma chuckled with Bo-Ko and Aidrh’ruz, bringing Orinvia’s fiery glare.
Her calculating, slightly confused mind reaching a new resolution, Elinor was somewhat intrigued by the words that left her lips. “How about an amendment to our previous bargain?”
“Are you frightened I will tear the wings from her back and hang her from the spires of Sha’Guala for all to see your weakness?”
All attention went to her, a challenging smirk in Elinor’s emerald eyes as she stared at the alien. “On the contrary… What do you say we go with your previous offer?”
“To the death, as is the Quecia’s customs?” Sylez hummed. “Does that go against the Code we have been placed under, Sar’ollaz? I was… occupied during that time.”
“No…” the Devil’s ghastly smile parted a tad, intrigue in his voice. “Is this change what altered your decision, Elinor?”
“Perhaps. Do you accept, Sari’aél?”
“If it is your order, I look forward to the thrill of a punishing battle,” she harmoniously chimed, showing a radiant smile.
Orinvia’s sharp teeth flashed, claws sinking past the runic guard on the table to leave impressions in the wood. “To the death.”
“Oh, but there would be another condition…” Elinor added, making Bo-Ko laugh.
“Ooh! Elinor! Elinor! Are you going to bring Orinvia back to life? Will she be nicer? Will she play with me?!”
“We’ll see, Bo-Ko.”
“Yay! Oh, show me that ball of silk that turns into the thingy!” Bo-Ko asked Azalea, acting as entertainment to her distaste.
Sar’ollaz’s fingers clasped together, mirroring Elinor’s. “I find your psyche… in a state of chaos, Elinor. Are you positive you can make such a claim while struggling as you are?”
She could feel Edmon and Tiffany’s fright at his statement, internally asking what he meant, yet the answer came from Sylez, laughter in his throat.
“Empress Elinor, I find it amusing that you call this… shadow being locked in this planet a Demon when I am the authentic thing. A Divine should know the difference, but of course, your spirit and Intelligence are in flux… several sides, vying for supremacy.”
“A Divine, you say… As in, you are a god, Elinor?” Ke’Thra’Ma asked, upper arms folding across his muscular chest.
“I will speak more to that later, Ke… So, you are an actual Demon from Hell; I thought as much. Hmm-hmm. I believe Sar’ollaz has Devil ancestry, as well… What do you think of that, not being an entirely full-blooded Demon yourself.”
“Mmh,” Arsheh sat a little straighter. “You have gained quite a modicum of knowledge from this change. Fascinating.”
Finally, the person she was waiting to address her leaned against the table, his flaming crown flickering. “Empress… I may be of use in helping to balance out this maddening clash of psyche you are experiencing.”
“I figured you would say as much, Aidrh’ruz,” she chuckled. “I suppose it would be quite the treat…”
His spiraling colossal eyes and flaring markings shimmered with his deep laughter. “Doing so will provide answers for us all… Will it not?”
“What do you want?” Elinor asked, shifting to the side of her throne to rest her fist against her cheek.
“A taste of the Divine Dream…”
Arsheh sniffed. “Could you handle that, Aidrh’ruz? I think not.”
“I agree,” Les’ndrassa interjected. “Providing a space to merge consciousness in her current state is more than possible, given your prowess, yet the Divine Dream sample—such a force would crush you.”
Aidrh’ruz shifted his laughter to the shapeshifting creature and Becdeth. “Not if the two of you act as a medium. I only need a taste, and I have long suspected the two of you had such… tantalizing dreams.”
Becdeth’s male voice resonated, Sylez mirroring him.
“Do you hear him, Becdeth, speaking of such things so casually; he wishes to enter your dreams?”
Feminine voice tinkling as he shifted his spear to tap the end against the floor, Becdeth’s monstrous jaws widened, claws clicking. “The Dream is always open… To tread in the mist is to test the strength of one’s resolve in seeking that which is just beyond sight. It is the freedom of all to enjoy the rapture that comes from the song.”
Sylez’s nose twitched, and Elinor didn’t miss that the Devil and Demon didn’t address their differences. “Hehe. He’s saying he accepts. Les’ndrassa?”
“Mmh… I rarely touch such colossal currents, but… a sample should suffice, yet I highly discourage touching Becdeth’s mind, lest you be lost forever, Aidrh’ruz.”
The dream creature turned to her for confirmation, and she shrugged. “If you wish to tempt fate, I have no objection. Begin when ready.”
Sar’ollaz had been surprisingly silent throughout the exchange, vision drifting between his members calculatingly.
Ke’Thra’Ma watched in silence, having entered a realm of conversation he knew nothing about, and the complex symbols flowing around him told Elinor he was scanning the forces his runic instruments could detect.
Elinor watched shadows move across the bright room to encompass her, Aidrh’ruz’s voice linking into her mind. “When you awaken… the truth will remain.”
Mind darkening, feeling the stress of Edmon, Tiffany, and Iris, now joining through Voukey, she slipped into the mouth of the dream entity. Fireworks flashed in the all-encompassing darkness surrounding her, voices and experiences flowing through her like a heart pumping blood.
The past fragments of her Intelligence were restructured and placed against one another, forced into a pit to fight for supremacy. As she expected, given the strength she’d built over her many incarnations, many rose to the occasion, yet only two remain in the end.
Elinor, naturally, being the strongest to seat herself in the present, and a distant monolithic Empress that had conquered her entire world, parted the heavens to acquire more of her power, subjugating even the God of the Dead in that plane—Osiris—of course, what was a 7th-dimensional entity of Death to her? She was Irkalla.
A conflict began, Elinor vs. Irkalla, and in a way, she was disconnected from both because she was both sides of the same coin.
Elinor was a preppy teenager—influenced by her sister in many regards—originally a cheerleader, before becoming goth and the Empress of the Dead.
She now saw her sister’s previous strategy had actually worked to some degree, even if she hadn’t won, she had a victory of sorts; in their previous life, having once again peeled back the curtain between mortal and immortal, as they often did in accessing their powers with their own strength and without support, Ishtar knew she couldn’t win and gambled on their last conflict.
Ishtar manipulated her own spirit, which was quite the risk, and triggered a fight for supremacy in her final opportunity to show how serious she was—the conflict she took to the womb—and it nearly ruined her, yet showed her resolve.
She lost that fight, and instead of being born as twins, as was typical in all their incarnations, Ishtar was absorbed into Elinor’s spirit, which was likely not what she’d planned, but, for the first time, her sister had managed to land a decisive—if temporary—blow against her.
Ishtar had affected her in ways she’d never experienced as a mortal, to the point of building a sort of family, and battled Elinor internally to enact change.
Elinor lived through her parents’ deaths, was affected by that in ways she hadn’t known as a Goddess, and forged her own way in this world, cultivating an iron will to never lose that newfound feeling again.
On the other hand, Irkalla had been born a starved, abandoned child in a harsh kingdom; without a friend or ally, she fought her way into unlocking her powers as the Jailor of the Damned and gradually built her strength in tandem with her little twin sister, born to royalty.
Irkalla had been abandoned, twins being seen as an omen, yet she survived due to a spurned harlot, hoping to get back at the family by using her connection to the throne. Irkalla had killed her at the age of eight when the harlot attempted to use her to elicit satisfaction from her customers.
One battle after another, she showed herself unrelenting in the cruel world until the end came—Ishtar facing her after both had dead heroes and gods at their feet—and it always finished with Irkalla’s spear in her sister’s chest.
She sat back, contemplating her altered mental state while her two incarnations prepared for their final showdown; Elinor, the influenced and current seat of power within the many lives she’d lived against Irkalla, the true embodiment of who she was—the Supreme Goddess; the Jailor of Eternities—in the high heavens.
In a way, it was a unification of Ishtar and herself against herself, which made for a fascinating clash of wills; as could be expected, Elinor was far outclassed in experience, even with her sister’s support, and, to a certain extent, even their combined resolve paled to the mortal goddess of the past, yet they battled with every ounce of fury and a desire Elinor had to not lose the family she’d cultivated.
The one tool Elinor had that could equal the playing field was being the current incarnation, having a firm seat, and Ishtar and she used every bit of it to their advantage, digging their heels in and refusing to give ground.
To Irkalla’s mild surprise—being a girl that had never met an equal—she’d finally found it in the version of herself that Ishtar influenced and supported, which was something of note.
Neither stood victorious, and for the first time, Irkalla tasted what it was like to not win. Unlike even her own ferocious sister in her prime, the damage Elinor did, with the influence of Ishtar, turned out to be fatal, the young incarnation unwilling to let anyone overtake her, to the point of mutually assured destruction.
Not one incarnation could overtake Ishtar’s cultivation of the current, but it had been a brutal war nonetheless, and when the last battle ended, Elinor and Irkalla were forced to make peace to survive. Neither had won, each adopting certain parts the other valued to become whole, unifying into what she now was.
Glowing emerald irises opening, Elinor smiled, retaining her current name; changing it would only cause confusion, and it wasn’t as if she was solely Irkalla.
Elinor adjusted her posture and gown, observing the throng, firmness and resolve setting into steel. “I remember.”
“Do tell,” Sar’ollaz muttered. “What is your purpose in the Covenant and beyond this point?”
Silence fell as Elinor lifted her sister’s spirit, a slight smirk darkening the corner of her mouth. “I am the Supreme Goddess of Death and Life, Ereshkigal. Although, I cannot enact the latter, seeing as it is not my purpose. You see, my little sister, Inanna, shirked her duties as the Supreme Goddess of Life in her youth, forcing me to watch the Wellspring of the Eternities.
“As the conflicts in the High Heavens raged, I remained in my place unaffected, tending to Irkalla, yet Inanna fought many Gods and Goddesses, conquering heaven to be its Queen. Once at her prime, she came to Irkalla, my Realm, and demanded I return what was rightfully mine since she abandoned her birthright… I refused, and my jury cast judgment with me as the overseer.
“Inanna put all that was at risk by her childish desires to be free to do as she pleased, and she was free to do so, as I took up her charge, but there are always consequences; if I did not take up her duty, disaster would have reigned. She had a task to fulfill that she failed and then had the nerve to demand it back.”
Elinor lifted her hand, green flames licking down its length as rips appeared in space for chains to spread around the room, the sounds they made in their movement drawing all eyes with Tiffany and Edmon in awe and delight at her proclamation.
“I am The Jailor of the Eternities—its Supreme Judge—my little sister was found guilty of treason against all creation; she entered my jurisdiction, where sin is judged, and I struck her dead, split her soul, chained her spirit, and hung her corpse on the ramparts of Irkalla to show no one is above the law, yet a bargain was struck by her beloved heavenly host, seeking her return…
“A contest of sorts to determine if she was worthy of holding the Wellspring of the Eternities once again. If she could show me her conviction to her duty by beating me… only once, in ten thousand conflicts on the mortal plane—without blessing, memory, or support beyond what we could grasp using our own will and power—given every opportunity, I would return her to life…
“Time after time, we met for battle, building kingdoms and empires across eternity in dozens of omniverses, yet my hands were around Ishtar’s throat every time. I killed her ten thousand times, proving she can never beat me.
“In this last incarnation, her last chance, heh, and she put everything on the line in one last desperate attempt… and lost the fight in the womb to be absorbed by me. However, this caused an unintended result… which came by chance and was a victory of sorts.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then… there was this Seed’s interference.”
Releasing her hold over the soul-binding chains, they snapped back into her spirit—the embodiment of which was Irkalla itself—and summoned the Staff of the Dead. A dualism of sorts, it had a curved, spear-like end that expressed Irkalla’s influence, and the top was a mass of swirling emerald Death Energy, being a staff that represented Elinor.
Rising to her feet, she gazed at the group with a short chuckle. “This Seed has changed things… Someone has altered my plan, and I will find the one responsible.
“As of now, I am Elinor and Irkalla unified; though I do not currently hold the power I once did, make no mistake, I am a nigh 13th-dimensional entity of Death, and I willingly enter into your Covenant, Sar’ollaz. I look forward to working with you.”
“What of your sister, Irkalla?” Les’ndrassa asked. “Is it appropriate to address you by one or the other?”
“Hmm… Irkalla holds more influence in my heavenly sphere, yet Elinor is how I am currently seen.”
The Phantom entity’s tone brightened with the turquoise liquid across her body. “To me, it seems Irkalla could be seen as a title of respect to your high office in the High Heavens since it represents the Realm by which you rule. I find it quite appropriate.”
Elinor rather enjoyed Les’ndrassa’s attitude, and a decision came to mind. “I approve of such an interpretation, you may call me Irkalla. As to my sister, I do not hold the same odium I once did after carrying her spirit within me… It is something I must explore.
“I also cannot deny what I know and the influence she managed to have on me in her final moment, even if she would have eventually lost this battle of influence, as was already showing in my personality.
“Still, mmm… given the circumstances regarding this Seed and its possible effects on us returning to our former glory… and the unknown results of what dying to return to our immortal sphere, I will grant her one more chance to prove her worth and reliability. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a war to begin. You are welcome to observe.”
Everyone outside of the family—being those within the Nexus—will call me Irkalla to strengthen that transition into a divine entity, awakened to my true role due thanks to their diligent prayer and faith.
“Family, huh?” Tiffany asked with a small smile. “What of the living?”
Subjects like any other that I ruled over when I ruled Irkalla… Although, I have gained a new perspective in leadership due to Ishtar’s influence. We shall see.
“Fair,” Edmon hummed. “In essence, their souls belong to you, yet your rule is just and laws put forth to provide a befitting place for those in your care?”
I suppose. As to you, Iris, return to your hunt. I am not so weak to need your help in what is to come, and your daughter is of importance.
“As you command, Empress,” Iris replied, and she could feel the relief at being able to continue her desire.
As for you, Voukey, return to me; I need to investigate something myself… Also, I require levels and Death Energy, heh, and 10,000 soldiers are waiting to be culled.”
“Hahaha!” Fire was in Ke’Thra’Ma’s eyes. “I will join you, Empress Irkalla. I have wanted to smell the scent of burning flesh since waking.”
Elinor gave him a side-long look. “As an observer, and nothing more. I must kill the bulk myself.”
“Oh?”
Tiffany and Edmon swiftly rose to their feet.
“Empress!” the Doom Guard swiftly interjected. “You cannot go on the battlefield yourself—”
Do not presume to give me orders, Edmon.
“I—yes, but it is too dangerous, Empress!”
Releasing a soft stream of air, she gave him a small smile. You are understandably protective of me, but I am no longer the powerless child you knew… I am not only Elinor but Irkalla, She Who Conquered Death.
Tiffany stumbled into the conversation. “Y-Yes, b-but surely Edmon can handle a few poultry thousand Ri’bot!”
Sari’aél giggled. “We need only be near the Empress if we are needed; surely, you have faith in her as much as I. I look forward to your conquest, Elinor!”
Iris was as calm and collected as ever. “I will return to my hunt if that is all, but might I inquire as to your plan besides this Ri’bot war, Empress?”
The Maw. I want to scout it out; something doesn’t feel right, and for a force of decay to rot even the Undead… I need answers, and Edmon will join me.
Happy to be included in at least this, showing she was not being reckless but showing confidence in her aptitude, Edmon accepted. “I will always be by your side!”
Tiffany wasn’t so confident but didn’t overstep her bounds. “Then… I will do what I can to aid you in the Maw as well.”
I expect nothing less, she said, turning her smile to the frightened Witch. As for you, Voukey, I need a way to fly across the land swiftly, and once that is done, you will take the shifter boy with you south to infiltrate the Seaweaver district. Yesenia will not block me.
“It will be done!”
She didn't see Ke’Thra’Ma’s smile fall when she kept contact with his narrowed eyes.
“You act more like a ruler… Empress. I will watch, and Sar’ollaz is your name?”
“It is…”
“I will be a part of this Covenant, as well. Who do I fight to show my strength?”
“Hmm-hmm-hmm… Irkalla, you have certainly given me much to ponder.”
“What is there to ponder?” Sylez laughed, voice deep and infernal. “What do you say this Ke’Thra’Ma fight one of our newer members… Kon’draga? She has a similar thirst for testing her… interests as you in battle.”
“Yes!” Ke’Thra’Ma roared, fist cleaving past the table’s protections to split most of it into pieces; he rose to his feet. “Bring her to the stadium!”
Elinor chuckled, shaking her head. “You have your fun, Ke… I need to speak to Demon. Set up an appointment with Noa for the rest of the Covenant to meet, Sar’ollaz. There is much I believe we can do together, and I must introduce my little sister, after all.”
“Friends!” Bo-Ko cheered. “We’re getting so many new members! Right, Orinvia?!”
“Shut up, Bo-Ko… I will kill you, Sari’aél—you did not beat me in our first conflict!”
The Seraph gave her a charming nod. “You are correct; you retreated.”
“Mmgm…”
“Indeed,” Elinor dryly stated to the others’ snickers. “If you wish to talk among yourself, by all means, enjoy yourselves, and Ke, if you could refrain from destroying more infrastructure I inherited from you, it would be appreciated.”
“I rather enjoy this new world, Irkalla,” Ke’Thra’Ma laughed. “I can taste the conflict.”
“Noa, bring me to the prison.”
Runes circled her, and when they left, she frowned upon seeing she wasn’t alone with her enemy; Becdeth gave her the sweeping gesture of a bow, its male voice humming in her mind.
“Remember, Irkalla… Trust is what throws us off the highest cliff. Hmm-hmm-hmm…”
He vanished in smoke, leaving the charring tone of Demon resonating in the dark, empty space. “How grand of you to spare me your time, Empress of the Damned… You have awakened. Shall we do business?”