Interlude: Worlds Change.

“—him out of there, now! Cael?? Can you hear me?”

The marshals were frantically trying to loosen the enchantments currently imprisoning Lord Hakkon— or just Cael, as he insisted his team call him— in his state-of-the-art armor. Armor they had been assured could withstand the Surge with the new upgrades installed, but had instead completely locked up the suit. They’d even resorted to cutting him out, but found that their only weapons strong enough to cut through the armor would also cut right through the trapped lord within. It was nearly an hour before the team’s enchanters could repair the runic script enough to reveal the unharmed face of their leader, looking around at the near-panic with raised eyebrows and a sardonic smile.

“That went well.”

The night had begun perfectly. They’d followed the almost standardized procedure they’d developed, which amounted to “shake the tree, set an ambush for whatever comes crawling out”. It had worked in dozens of cities before this one, helping them flush out any number of creatures by painting themselves as a huge target. By all appearances, this city should have followed the pattern— especially since they’d already captured the monster after a negligibly short chase.

So where did everything go wrong, and what exactly are we dealing with?

Cael was a firm believer in the importance of the after-action report. Hunting the various monsters— beast and otherwise— plaguing the world was an exercise in holding back chaos, and being disorganized could only aid their enemies. Unfortunately, he could be charitably described as ‘extremely taciturn’ and unsuited to the task of actually running such a meeting, which meant he was often forced to hire a manager for the team. The latest one was… chipper.

“Alright everyone! I know we’re all a little tired and disappointed right now, but let’s go over what we learned as a group.” The man said with a peppy tone.

Cael resisted the urge to sigh and idly ran his fingers through short, dark hair that was just beginning to grey at the temples.They’d returned to the noble house that had been converted into their temporary base— with the blessing of the owner, who’d been stuck in another city because of the Surge. It had taken them hours to fully deactivate his locked-up armor, and everyone was exhausted after the night’s failure, so he fully intended to keep things brief. Softly clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow was luckily enough to get the message across and the younger man— Tannon, he thought his name was— hurried along with a slight flush.

“Right, well for starters I’d like to recommend we discontinue the use of flamethrowers in urban environments.”

A grimace marred Cael’s face for a moment at that and he nodded, while the chief engineer at the table visibly deflated. Cael had been forced to divert from his fight with the creature for a moment after the first blast of flame had managed to light up the corner of a nearby shop, and only the timely intervention of the rooftop team had kept their prey from slipping away while he used the concussion from his armor’s thrusters to douse the flame.

“Lord Hakkon has graciously offered to reimburse the shopkeeper and purchase the entire stock of goods damaged by the smoke, though what we’re to do with a wagonload of lightly-singed petticoats I’ve no idea…” Tannon trailed off quietly, eliciting a few tired chuckles from the group.

“Overall though, damage to persons and property was kept to a surprising minimum. I commend the accuracy of our marksmen, and the restraint of our casters.”

An awkward silence spread as the man fidgeted in place for a moment.

“Alright, no use putting this off, let’s address the Calamity in the room. Does the Mysterium have any leads on identifying the creature?”

“While I can offer nothing conclusive, I have made several observations and contacted my fellows in Nar’Aelith to corroborate the evidence.” An older man— one never knew the exact age with the Mysterium’s agents, he could be fifty or three hundred— began. “The creature’s behavior changed at several points in a premeditated fashion. First, when it was spotted. Second, when it was forced to fight. And third, when we attempted to bind it via the exhortation of Names. From this, I believe that only the final behavior was genuine and the others were pure artifice. It is distinctly sapient, and the night’s events seem to have begun as an attempt to mislead us, directly. We should look at any action taken by this creature as an attempt to misdirect our attention.”

The man stood, conjuring an illusion in mid-air that resembled the creature after they’d encircled it. There were several uneasy murmurs as many of the group got a good look at the creature for the first time.

“You don’t think it’s… one of them do you?” One of the engineers asked fearfully.

“Our contact with the Beast Lords has diminished greatly over the centuries, and my calls to those I know through the Ether have gone unanswered, but in this case I believe the answer is no. In fact, I believe we are overthinking this foe. A great deal of our initial concern stems from the fact that the creature has broken through an Achoran ward without destroying it— a feat unmatched as we know. However, my colleagues and I have concluded that in this case the simplest solution to our dilemma is that the creature is no beast at all.”

With a dramatic wave of his hand— damn showy wizards— the man stripped away the canvas covering the creature in his illusion, revealing the monstrous form beneath. Several of the more squeamish members present leaned away from the disturbing image and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“While the Record of the Named has borne us no fruit in identifying this creature, perusing the old Achoran ward registry provided some rather fascinating bits of information—”

A light cough interrupted the old man, who gave Cael an irritated glance at the interruption but nonetheless sped up his speech.

“Yes, well, the most likely culprit is a juvenile [Outer Kindred]. The registry is disappointingly vague and utterly without illustration, but what is present there matches almost perfectly with what we see here.”

“It was in the registry?? How could the Achorai ally themselves with such a… thing?” someone cut in.

“First, the registry’s origin is far older than the Achorai. Second, I imagine that after conquering the world the Achorai did as they saw fit. I’m sure they’re trembling from beyond the grave at the knowledge of your disapproval.” The mage retorted derisively.

“Gentlemen, let's keep this professional, please.” Tannon hurried to nip the argument in the bud. He waited for some quiet grumbling to die down before gesturing back to the mage.

“What exactly do we know about this creature?”

The man shrugged apologetically.

“Distressingly little, especially about the youngest of their species thanks to their reclusive nature. With some extrapolations, we can infer some— obvious— magical talent, mild psionic potential and binary shapeshifting. Other than the physical appearance there’s just not much else available about them, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, this does mean we’ll have to start enacting the relevant security protocols.”

A chorus of groans came from around the table and protests quickly started up.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Shapeshifter and psion protocol??”

Several just held their heads miserably, and even Cael couldn’t keep his shoulders from drooping down exhaustedly at the thought of both the very stringent security protocols in effect simultaneously. It would make life miserable for the entire team, requiring them to be constantly in groups with round-the-clock checkups. So long as the protocols were in effect, no one on the team was to be left alone. Ever.

Going to be an awkward couple of days…

“Thank you for that… wonderful announcement, Master Blaithe. We’ll coordinate the check-ups with you after the meeting. Miss Seraphine—” Tannon turned to a young woman in the simple yellow and red robes of the Oraculum. “Is there anything you can report?”

Her green eyes clouded over for a moment, turning fully white before returning and she shook her head resignedly.

“The fate of this city remains hidden from my sight. The past and future are both veiled to me and the gods are… silent.”

“And we have ruled out demonic activity?”

Seraphine’s eyes grew hard at the mention of demons.

“A Fatekiller cuts the thread of destiny like the edge of a knife. We hunt them by the… absence, they create simply by existing. This is different, an obfuscation. I am not being allowed to see what is there, and that is frightening.”

“Maybe, if you’re actually telling the truth this time…” Blaithe murmured, too loudly.

Seraphine stiffened, withdrawing from the conversation under a shell of proud indifference that was too thin to hide the hurt beneath from Cael’s practiced gaze. The Oraculum’s deception had stung many on their team, and trust was much harder to regain once betrayed. The girl had gravely underestimated her team’s reaction, believing somewhat naively that their hurts would be eased by the declared importance of the Oraculum’s mission. Instead, she’d gone from arguably one of their most valued members to a complete pariah overnight, and over the weeks following their journey to the surface she’d become more and more withdrawn. Cael had made quiet overtures to the poor girl and headed off the worst of the hostility, for even if he now felt some distrust towards the once-vaunted organization, he couldn’t bring himself to blame the young woman for decisions made above her head. He well knew how intimidating an established power you’d been part of since childhood could become in your mind.

After another awkward silence, Tannon cleared his throat with a pained smile.

“Right. Well, our last pressing note is the surge that occurred after the creature was captured. Can the Mysterium shed any light on this? I was under the impression that our instruments were predicting a clear night.”

“Ha!” Blaithe snorted. “Our supposed ‘instruments’ are a slight step above an educated guess. There simply hasn’t been time to fully analyze this phenomena, and any claim to accurately predict it should be taken with a hefty grain of salt. In this case, however—”

The illusion above them distorted, changing to an arcane series of charts, graphs and equations that would have made a younger Cael break out in sweat with flashbacks to his academy days.

“There was a, quite frankly ridiculous, spike in the manasphere when the [Outer Kindred] escaped. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could pick it up all the way in Nar’Aelith. It put out enough raw power in those few moments to make a dragon blink, just shunting it out uncontrollably into the air. I’d be more impressed if it wasn’t such a wasteful— and dangerous— misuse of magical ability, but still. The sudden overabundance of mana caused a reaction cascade that ended with an unexpectedly powerful Surge, which completely overrode the capacitors we’d installed to combat it. We’ll be adjusting them more in the future.”

“So the creature caused this Surge? Could it be responsible for them? It would explain the ward activation…”

Blaithe screwed his face up, frowning thoughtfully.

“Eh… my instinct is to say no. If anything, I’d believe the opposite to be true and that the Surge is responsible for the creature’s appearance.”

A round of quizzical looks passed through the table before the mage clarified.

“[Outsiders] are gestalt beings that form on the chaotic edges of reality. They are not ‘born’ as you and I were, but come into being from the clashing of the Beyond and the magic present in the fraying borders of our own world. The fluctuations caused by the Surge would definitely be enough to birth a few of their kind, though most will die and dissipate into the Ether within moments. The laws of reality are… harsh, to those coming from outside of it.”

A few nods went around the table, and Tannon looked to see if anyone else wanted to speak before wrapping things up.

“Lord— apologies, Cael, is there anything you’d like to cover before we begin the individual reviews?”

Cael thought for a moment with a heavy frown before speaking.

“What it said, at the end. ‘[Law] does not bow’. It sounded like a skill phrase, but it wasn’t.”

“A resonant incancation.” Blaithe cut in again. “It implies a deep connection to a specific Ideal. Less powerful than a proper Skill in most instances, but can be quite impressive if triggered correctly.”

“Hmm.” Cael rubbed at his beard absently. “Then all that’s left is this.”

Reaching under the table he brought up his suit’s helmet, with the crude face drawn by the creature still marring the visor. Setting it on the table, a few confused looks were passed around while he leaned back in his chair. He held back a sigh, knowing what he was about to reveal would completely derail the meeting.

“I think we found the gods' missing champion.”

Somewhere in the Deep Hollows…

The cavern had lain silent for thousands of years. Even so, the air felt oppressive and hostile enough that no creature had dared approach. No adventurer had delved into its depths. A lingering remnant of powers long forgotten by most who still lived, speaking directly to the oldest instincts of any who came near. A warning of dire threat.

Here, there be Monsters.

It took the shape of an amphitheater, but immense beyond the scale of any constructed by mortal hands. In the place of seats however, instead there rose steles of stone, each standing like a primeval monolith to tower overhead. They were undecorated, save for a single rune marking the center of each. The rune varied from stele to stele, ranging from crude claw marks to gentle sworls, but this single marker was all that differentiated the stones from each other. Ringing the chamber, they stood in the hundreds like the gravestones of a forgotten age. Undisturbed in the silent darkness of the deeps.

Until it changed.

Something had been building in the air of the chamber, silently growing for weeks as mana— the rawest form of magic— approached an unseen threshold. Hovering at the edge of change like a guillotine waiting to fall. Needing just the barest nudge to send it over.

A pulse echoes through the chamber, disturbing the dust of millenia ever so faintly. It comes from far away, far enough that the faint roar of a young man’s defiance is almost gone. The built-up magic trembles.

It is enough.

Wind flows through the dead air of the chamber, a slight breeze that quickly grows into a howling gale. Cyclonic, it rushes through the chamber before hurling outward, leaving the air still again. But now, in the centermost ring of six steles, the runes have changed.

For the first time in millenia, they are awake.

The first ignites with red fire, a shockwave blasting the air around it. The rune is almost contemptuous, a single mark from a claw of unspeakable power.

Korom, the Skyburner, Elder Dragon.

The second rune is subtle, a dark smoke curling from a spiral rune that glows from within. The light it sheds is sickly, with shades of violet and green flickering in a thousand tiny illusions.

Myygdulath, the Witch-Mother, Serpent of old.

Third, is an odd light. A soft blue that shines in the darkness, ageless, timeless. An observer wouldn’t be able to remember a time where it had been dim.

Gilgamog, the Ancient, Great Turtle.

A golden glow flickers from the fourth rune. It is primitive, and sharp, but somehow pure. To see it is to see the beginning, the first steps from creation upon a new world.

Xoa, First of the Titans.

The fifth rune ripples, like the sea under the waves. The sworls it makes on the stone are implacable, inexorable as the ocean itself while just hinting at the vastness below.

Throne, the Living Tide, Emperor Kraken.

Last, the sixth rune, is a hideous thing. An etching on the stone like a writhing mass of tendrils, melted like a scar of acid. It stains the world just by existing, but unlike the others it is… quiet. Empty. Its maker is already gone.

Dezzahn, the Corruptor, Rot-Lord of the Hollows.

These are the Named, greatest among the Beast Lords.

The dragon— ever arrogant— speaks first with a heavy yawn, his voice a deafening rumble through the chamber.

“We… wake? Unexpected, the auguries showed the world to end shortly. The air is… better?”

A sibilant hiss resounds.

“The age turns. The spider sits triumphant, yet thwarted. Fate unmade and made anew. Achor's folly hangs over all no longer, their doom cast into the darkness beyond. The world rises as from a healing slumber, and we rise with it.”

The dragon snorts tiredly.

“Always in riddles with your kind, witch. What have you against plain speech?”

Cackling, the serpent’s voice changes to that of an old woman.

“Oh let me have my fun, fire-brain. Don’t dragons like riddles?”

“When they aren’t unexpectedly waking from the death-slumber, yes.”

A grumble interrupts the two with a sound like a landslide in motion.

“Such… Noise…”

The blue light of Gilgamog sweeps through the chamber.

“Six we were… Five we are. It seems not all could abide by our pact…”

“Dezzahn. Such a deliciously hateful creature, always with such poisonous gifts. It is no surprise he took the Fatekiller’s Oath with us.” Myygdulath hisses with a cackle.

The dragon gives a derisive snort.

“As befits a carrion beast. Though it seems to have given him a head start in this new age…” Korom’s rune winks out with the dragon’s sudden departure, surprising none with his rudeness. The others follow one by one, Throne already stirring himself to the eternal battle in the Undersea, Gilgamog seeming lost to the eons of his own existence. At the end, only Xoa and Myygdulath remain.

<>

The primal language of creation shudders from Xoa’s rune, and a lesser mind would be driven to worshipful madness by hearing it. The serpent only chuckles.

“Yesss… It seems the instrument of our return was also the one to awaken us.”A captured wisp of power drifts through the air, the remnant of defiance sealed carefully within. “I’ll have to thank the little dear for that.”