Izrail was in ruins.
The energies holding open the portal had destabilized, as the Chief Arcanist had warned. Not that anything could have been done with the warning. The energy had exploded outward, burning hotter than fire with light that blinded even a god’s eyes. The entire city of Geburatiel had been consumed, along with all who lived there. Only his divine palace survived.
The carefully ordered time-fields and barriers he had used to divide the land and separate it into easily managed sectors had been wiped out by the blast, of course. That was only to be expected if something happened to the center of the formation. But the blast had not lessened or spent itself upon the barriers. Rather, it had taken the energy from those barriers and strengthened itself, until the blast had swept across Izrail entirely, razing over three-fourths of the entire plane!
Torm scowled as he looked out from the balcony of his palace, upon the blasted landscape that had once been his perfectly ordered domain. The damage to his home plane was incalculable. So many divine servants lost. His entire base of power gone, in an instant. And the damages didn’t end there.
The blast had hit him directly. Him, a god! And it had hurt. If it were not for the divine protections he had in place, especially here, in his home plane, then he very well might have been destroyed! If he’d been in an avatar, instead of there in his full might, his avatar would certainly have been lost, and he would have had to spend much time and energy growing a new one.
Even so, his face and arms were burnt from the power of the flames, and his right leg moved with a limp. It would take time for those scars to heal, if they ever did. For now, he simply hid them behind a glamour, as he had greater concerns. For the damage had not been solely upon his plane, and his flesh.
From across the planes, he heard the tortured screams of his followers, those who had been occupying the mortal city of Magika. The city had been drawn into the Nine Hells before the explosion shook the land, and his loyal followers there were now prey for the devils and other evil souls that lived in that foul place. And their numbers were dropping by the day, as they either died, or lost their faith in him.
And the loss of faith was not limited to those archons trapped in the Hells. The destruction of the altar and his temple in Geburatiel had caused a chain reaction. Every temple, shrine, and altar he had across the planes exploded. Even his symbols burned hot enough to scar those who wore them. Many had died, including no fewer than nine out of every ten of his priesthood, and many of his most fervent true believers amongst the mortals. Those that remained, found their faith shaken. Many had already fallen, and turned to other gods for comfort in this dark time.
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That was the most grievous blow to him, out of everything. Ever since the Troubles, a god’s power was tied to the faith of their followers. With such a loss of faith, his divine rank, the quantification of his divine power, had already begun sliding. If it continued much further, he would fall from the ranks of true gods altogether, and become a demigod once again!
A flicker of red caught his eye as he limped back towards his throne room. Turning his head, he saw that it came from a storeroom, with the door only partially shut. Opening the door, he saw the source of the red, and it was all that he could do to keep from screaming in rage! Someone had defaced one of the walls of his palace with words in the infernal tongue of the Nine Hells!
Upon the day prey kills predator, two sisters shall bring forth the dawn of evil and the rise of a new god.
Upon the day the brother becomes the father, a duel shall bring forth a new kingdom.
Upon the day siblings rival, a suspicious accident shall bring forth an age of inhumanity and justice.
Upon the day the world turns to winter, a forced marriage shall mark a cursed age and the return of monsters.
Upon the day that the sister becomes the mother, the dark one shall cause the downfall of two kingdoms.
Upon the day that fire comes to the sea of ice, a woman with golden hair shall bring about the death of a god.
Of course! The prophecy. The damned prophecy. If a brother became the father, and a sister the mother, then that explained things. Surely, both his kingdom and Thedra had fallen, and the elves had picked up the pieces, rising from the ashes of the plots that had been unleashed upon the forest. That suggested that this was part of the prophecy coming to fulfilment.
He shook his head, casting such thoughts aside. Right now, he could not afford to think of such things. He had to find a way to staunch the bleeding, and bring his followers back to his side. And the quickest, most effective way to do that would be to find the ones responsible for the destruction, and bring them to justice. His justice.
Making his way to his throne room, Torm sat heavily upon his throne, forcing himself to not let the pain of his injuries register upon his face. Looking down at what remained of his court, there was the archon who had been slain, and had his soul stolen, lying in state. Next to the body was Zadkiel, the most accomplished swordsman in his realm, and father to the boy, with his daughter-wife behind him, along with their three children.
“Zadkiel, the Divine Blade, the quarry We set you upon has fled, but not before doing grievous injury to Our realm and Our very being. Your son lies dead, doubtless by that quarry’s hand, and his very soul has been stolen. How shall you answer for this costly lapse?”
The Archon bowed, and said, “My Lord, I beg your forgiveness. I was out, seeking rumors that the ones you tasked me to find had been sighted at the edges of the realm, where rifts to other planes form. Suspecting that they had been behind the disappearance of the Grimhold, I wished to track their movements whilst they were fresh, as they have proven to be shielded from diviniations. Unfortunately, I did not make it back in time to prevent this tragedy.”
He took a breath, and then said, “Therefore, my Lord, I shall go, with my entire household, and hunt these villains in the mortal plane. We shall find them, and bring them to heel, so that they might face your divine retribution.”
Torm nodded slightly. “Then go. But, when you catch the heretical ones, you are to call upon me. I shall come down, and deal with them personally, so that all might now the power of Torm!”
“As you command, my Lord.”