Arcturus’ hand touched the handle of the door and pushed it down to open it, pulling it towards him and stepping into a completely different location. White marble with black whorls — or was it black with white whorls? — covered an expansive circular room, devoid of decoration save for a large metal table painted in the vision of the Yin and Yang. Around the table were seven stone chairs of high-backed design. Three were white, three were black, and the largest of them was patterned the same combination as the floor.

In each seat was a hooded figure, robes the same colour as their chairs covering their bodies and identities, with glowing golden chains wrapped around them. They all appeared to be sleeping, judging by the subtle rise and fall of their covered torsos. The odd one out, in the white and black, appeared almost phased half out of reality.

When Arcturus looked up, he saw vaulted ceilings shrouded in grey mist, and when he turned to the left, he saw only a plain wall with a floor-to-ceiling window that seemed to look out into endless grey. After peeling his eyes away and turning to his right, he saw a gap in the wall there; a rectangular hole that led onto a semi-circle balcony with a railing that also matched the dual-patterned floor.

Drawn to the balcony, he walked over to it and heard the clicks of his feet upon the flooring, glancing over and noticing that none of the seven had even noticed him based on their uninterrupted slumber. When he left the room and stepped onto the balcony, his eyes widened at the sight of an endless vista of towering mountain peaks, plunging valleys, and natural forest and rivers as far as he could see. It just seemed to go forever, with no pause or cessation.

Winged figures prowled that expanse; gargantuan, soaring creatures with horns upon their heads and bodies large enough in some cases to have nestled comfortably against a skyscraper on earth.

“Thank you for joining me.”

Arcturus turned to his left and spied a man around his own height, with long hair that was parted at the crown of his head. One side black, the other white. When he turned to meet Arcturus’ eyes, his own gaze was abnormal: His left eye had a black sclera, white iris, and a ying-yang pupil while his right eye had a white sclera as normal, but a black iris, and another yin-yang pupil. He seemed to have no difficulty with the oddity of his eyes, which Arcturus also noted seemed to change pupil types between normal and slitted each moment. His attire was a monochrome affair; white shirt, black pants, and no shoes. It was... remarkably simple.

“I don’t know that I was really given much choice. Last thing I remember was thunder in my skull, and then—”

“Yes. That is my fault. I hadn’t expected to have my sliver awaken so suddenly, nor for it to do so with such comparative violence.”

A distant roar distracted Arcturus, and he looked out to see two winged shapes wrestling in the air as they soared past in the distance.

“Don’t worry. They can’t see us. This is simply my way of watching over my creations.”

“Your creations?”

“The Dragons and their lesser cousins.” The man said placidly. “I have always loved to see them, and even on this Shard — desolate and aether-starved though it used to be — they have, as I had hoped, thrived. The natural acceleration of environmental Aether and Anima that they provide is a massive boon to any Shard they are upon. It’s why I created them for the Source, after all.”

“You created Dragons.” Arcturus said with quiet disbelief, before realising what he was hearing. “Oh. Oh.” His voice faltered a little. “You’re Astra Zion.”

“I am.” The Elder God responded. “Or at least, an awoken sliver you can commune with while the vastness of my consciousness remains enthralled in slumber.”

“So the voice in my head this whole time was you?” Arcturus asked in shock.

“Guilty.” Astra Zion admitted readily. “Though I certainly didn’t expect what would have occurred when I created the relic that acted as the phylactery for my sliver, all those millennia ago. I do recall knowing I needed to do it, after foreseeing a time when the Source would be imperiled — but the details escaped me.”

“Why aren’t you… I don’t know, booming and glowing and doing impressive deific things?”

“Impressive deific things?”

“You know what I mean, uh, sir. My lord. Your Divine Holin—”

“Please. None of that. Definitely none of that. Just speak to me as you might any other man.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I find the emphasis on pageantry and pedantic sycophantism exhausting. I find mortals fascinating, I always have: It’s why I had a hand in shaping them. The idea of slavish devotion or discourse rife with rhetoric and zealous hyperbole holds no appeal to me. We will speak as men, and no more.”

“I…” Arcturus laughed. “Okay. Sure.”

“Surprised?”

“Yes, but not unpleasantly.”

“Good.” Astra Zion said with a warm smile. “Now, let’s get to talking.”

“Okay.” Arcturus said. “Can we start with why exactly I’m so calm?” He enquired, faintly bewildered by his lack of panic, shock, anger, or any other extreme emotion.

“Well, I suppose it’s because you’ve always known who I am and what I am, even if you never were consciously aware of it. After all, how could you not know? This sliver has been a part of you since before you were born.” Astra Zion smiled a little guiltily. “Plus, I am the god of Harmony, Arcturus. I have a local effect not dissimilar to the Highest, even on other Divines.”

“That makes sense.” Arcturus admitted. “Though the part about always knowing… that seems odd, given I was born on Earth.”

“True.” Astra Zion agreed. “But your father was not. When Titus found my phylactery, the sliver leaped from it to him, seeking a host to awaken within. Unfortunately, I underestimated the level of incompatibility a non-Vitaean soul would have, especially after years of those children spreading misinformation about the nature of Aether and cultivating it. So instead, my sliver piggybacked on Titus after giving him Revelations about the System.”

“And then those insights caused him to go to Earth?” Arcturus questioned.

“He was being hunted, yes.” The Elder God said as he braced his hands against the railing. It was a very… Human action, Arcturus thought to himself. “The Imperial Bloodline and the highest echelons of the Church are fully aware of the true history of the Source. They had to be, to avoid unwanted complications arising should they have found out from someone other than Azrion’s pantheon.”

“Then why are they going along with it?”

“Avarice is a powerful thing, and so is fear, and so is Faith. They believe in the Twelve, and they believe in their own power. Their own manifest destiny, if you will. Why rebel against something that benefits you?”

“So he left, and he met my mother.”

“And then you came along.” Astra Zion said as he turned to Arcturus with a benevolent smile. “An innocent, still-forming consciousness with the aetheric potential of a paragon of the Source. The sliver sensed the coalescence of aether and anima that was your formation in your mother’s womb, and it jumped from Titus to you. I fear I have to apologise for that. The moment it did, you were changed irrevocably.”

“Then why did I have no powers on Earth?”

“Bad luck. The Aether levels on that Shard were wholly unsuitable to Awakening either you or the sliver in any level of detectable fashion, and so it fused with your nascent soul absent consequence. It changed you. Had you never left your shard, you would have likely lived for an impossible amount of time, as they rate it.”

“But I was killed…” Arcturus muttered. “The Church had me killed, so they knew about me.”

“They eventually used the residual knowledge of the Vitaeans to trace the Shard Titus vanished to.” Astra Zion elaborated. “Tracking you down was absurdly simple thanks to your father’s adherence to tradition. For all his genius, subtlety was never your father’s strong suit. He named you in the Terran way, after all.”

“What a dumbass.” Arcturus said with a wry smile. “Sounds like my dad.”

“I am glad you see the humour in it. From there, you went and met with my Father, and… Well, you played right into His hands.”

“Wait, I did what?” Arcturus asked in confusion.

“You truly think Order did not foresee the result of your choices? That He did not sense my sliver within you?” Astra Zion chuckled. “He has been trying to find a way to restore the System since it was corrupted, but was trapped by His own immutable Laws. The Nephilim were his main resource; sending them to Terra with full, if corrupted, System access was his attempt at correcting things. If a Nephilim grew powerful enough, they could in theory access [The Sleeper Must Awaken] and free me and my siblings.” Astra Zion sighed, shaking his head in resignation. “Unfortunately, the Twelve ensured that could never happen.”

“Avatars?” Arcturus guessed.

“Yes.” Astra Zion confirmed. “Nephilim always vanish upon reaching the middle of what the Empire classifies as A-Rank, unless they themselves become a servant of the Church. The Avatars are responsible for that. They hunt across the Source, and they kill any Nephilim that approaches the threshold of S-Rank.”

“And this means I played into Order’s hands how?”

“He never offered you Nephilic rebirth, and instead He goaded you.”

“So He broke His own rules?”

“No. He bent them. He knew exactly how to push you towards a specific Fate thread, and so He did. What happened after that, He could not see… But He took a bet on the sliver within you. That bet paid off.”

Arcturus’ eyes widened as he realised what the implication was. “So when I was being rebuilt in True Oblivion… that was you?”

“If you recall, you were not within True Oblivion, but on the border of realms. The place between places. That is where I was born, you see. It is where the vast majority of me dwells, too. I am the God of Harmony, Balance, Time, and Space. I am the God of the Middle Existence. Between the Highest and Oblivion, and outside the reality of the Source and Shardverse. That is where you were rebuilt.”

“Then my powers…?”

“A consequence of my nascent sliver’s influence. It thought it was just an embodiment of your will. It did not know what it did, only how to do it. The reason you were born again is because True Oblivion is my domain as much as it is my Mother’s. Creation and Destruction are mine to command.”

Astra Zion looked out over the vista as he spoke, watching the Dragons fondly.

“When my sliver reconstructed you, it infused you with a measure of the dominions I hold. It saturated you with my divinity, in as much as it was a fraction of that divinity. In that moment, Arcturus, you became a nascent God in truth. You are, in some strange manner, a direct product of my power. In many ways, you are my son in as much capacity as I could have such a thing.”

“Not sure how I feel about that statement.” Arcturus said with a frown. “I already have a father.”

“It was not meant in a way to denigrate that relationship, either. There is simply no better means to elucidate upon what I am trying to explain.”

“So my own willpower played no part in my rebirth?”

“On the contrary, it was the key. The sliver responded to the incredible desire you had to live. The ferocity of your wish to exist and see your friends. It partially awoke then, and acted. It changed you, yes, but it is better than being obliterated.”

“When I was rebuilt, I remained Fate severed…” Arcturus said slowly. “So why is it that the sliver told me something was altering my fate? Was that the sliver?”

Astra Zion smiled. “Yes. Subtle, small nudges it wasn’t even aware it was doing, all designed to improve your chances of survival.”

“How could it be unaware of its own actions?”

The Elder God reached out and tapped Arcturus’ forehead indicatively. “That is the nature of the Divine. Its own instinctive nature escaped the comprehension of its dormant mind. My dormant mind, I suppose.”

“That…” Arcturus started before trailing off, his eyes wide in thought. “That makes sense, but it’s more than a little disturbing.”

“You need not worry about it any longer. Such intercession will halt now.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” Arcturus admitted.

“It is simply a matter of perspective, I suppose. Besides, you’ve been given other boons and unique benefits: Like your aetherblade’s appearance.”

“So my manner of rebirth… Is that why Perdition has dragon designs and the colouring it does?” Arcturus asked as he thought about the changes wrought.

“Yes.” Astra Zion said without deceit. “In many ways, you are a brother to the entire draconic species. You are the closest thing to a true son of mine in mortal flesh that they will ever encounter. This does not mean they will simply obey you: My first made children are powerful, independent, and comparatively ancient… But it will grant you a measure of inherent respect, authority, and prominence with them that no mortal has enjoyed since Gaius Lucius Imperius Sanguis walked the Source.”

Arcturus stared at his hands as he considered Astra Zion’s words, watching the lines of his palms and flexing his fingers as he let it all sink in. A distant part of him was freaking out, he knew that, but the presence of the Elder God kept that part of him… not smothered, but compartmentalised. It could have its panic and freak out in its own space, while he more logically absorbed what he was being told.

“So… Is the sliver the reason I’m so angry so often?”

“Yes and No.” Astra Zion answered. “No in the sense that your emotions are your own, and belong to you, and are rooted in your experiences and frustration with those experiences. However, it is also yes because the sliver laced divinity into your core. Your Aether is pure. Undiluted. Aether itself is the fabric of the Soul, the Mind, and Reality. It shapes all three. Your emotions run wild because, much like a Dragon, you are saturated and suffused by raw and unfiltered Aether. Divine Aether, at that. The fact you can use the Soulforce absent being Anointed as my Sanguine shows that for truth.”

“So I’m… What? Forever doomed to be a rage monster at times of high stress?”

“No. Sanguination is a multiple-use word. The Vitaeans called the Anointed we chose to be our Avatars ‘the Sanguine’ and referred to their ascension as ‘Sanguination’ or ‘Anointing’, but there are other uses for the term. In the Empire, Archons are gifted jewels that dampen their emotions and allow them to control the wildness that their aether cores inspire within their emotions. In the Vitaean Empire, Vitae could be used to ‘Sanguinate’ someone’s mind. To calm them. It balanced their Aether and Anima, and made the influence on their emotions far more manageable.”

Arcturus thought back to Lillian, then Tylariel’s lessons, and nodded.

“In your case, there is only one way to truly calm the tempest of your mind.”

“I’m going to dislike this, aren’t I?” Arcturus muttered.

Astra Zion laughed warmly. There was something about the Elder God that set Arcturus at ease, and not simply his harmonious nature. Be it the correlation between Astra Zion and the sliver, or the God’s aura, or the effect of his own mindscape… Something seemed right about the advice the Elder God gave. There was no malintent or bias in what Astra Zion said; only the immutable truth of one who knew far, far more than they might ever reveal. “Perhaps. For you, Vitae is but one step. You have already unlocked your Bloodline, which roots itself back to the very first of my Imperators Sanguine, but not the true power of that bloodline. The first half of the Key is to cultivate Vitae, and become the first Royarch of a reborn Vitaea.”

“I hadn’t made that choice yet.” Arcturus groused. “I have no desire to repeat what happened with the Rubastras. It cost the lives of too many people that had no reason to die.”

“This will be different.” Astra Zion said confidently.

“How?” Arcturus asked warily.

“You’ll be in a far more advantageous position to dictate the outcome.”

“That’s not very specific.” Arcturus grumbled.

“I’d think you could put some stock in a God’s advice.” Astra Zion mused.

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Your will is your own, I can only offer my insights.”

“You’re very easy-going for Terra’s most powerful deity, and the Divine King of Dragons.” Arcturus muttered.

“Exist for as long as I have, child, and nothing phases you any longer. Not even the grumblings of a barely-into-adulthood boy with more improbability around his existence than my own.”

Arcturus shook his head. What answer could he even provide for that statement?

“Okay, so I make Lilith’s day and tell her I’ll accept her Sovereign’s mantle. Then what?” He asked instead.

Astra Zion nodded along and answered the question readily.

“Once you complete your training within the Grand Acropolis, you must establish a force to hold it for you against whatever might come when you depart.”

“Depart?”

“Yes. I will use what little power I can muster over the System to issue you a new quest. You will need to use the Blackstone Gateway to travel to the farthest reaches of the Blighted Lands, and undertake a difficult task; one your origins make you uniquely suited for.”

“I’m already worried.” He said.

“You have to find the last remaining Dragons on The Source.” Astra Zion said with a knowing smile. “Then, you need to convince one of them to Bond with you.”

Arcturus was silent for several moments, before he cursed without heat. Dragons. His one weakness. “Okay, that’s pretty cool actually.” He admitted. “But I thought every Dragon was banished?”

“They were.”

“Then how are there any left?”

“The banishment ritual was rooted in Spatial magic, Arcturus. You think there wasn’t at least one Great Wyrm capable of manipulating such a thing?”

“So what, they just… plopped back here?”

“More or less.” Astra Zion agreed. “But the effort was… crippling. You will need to hurry. I am amazed that wonderful creature has survived this long given the state of the former Vitaean core territories, and the abominations that stalk them.”

“Yeah… How exactly am I meant to deal with those, anyway?”

“Lilith will have the answer in the immediate. Your lessons in Earth history will inform the rest, in the short term.” The Elder God said enigmatically. “For the long term? It’s simple: Bring back the Dragons. Why do you think I created them as I did? They were the Source’s first and most powerful protectors and custodians. These invaders are not new, Arcturus. They have existed since before creation existed. They are born of a realm where Oblivion’s voidal darkness has run utterly rampant; the dark rift between the Shardverse and its Source, and the black beyond. You had a prophet on your Shard who knew of them, in fact.”

“Oh no.” Arcturus said. “Don’t tell me it’s—”

“Oh yes.” Astra Zion said merrily. “Your ‘Lovecraft’ was quite gifted with the power of vision.”

“So.” Arcturus said after a moment of silent cursing in his mind-self’s mind. “I need to cultivate Vitae, find a way to hold the Grand Acropolis after I become a Royarch, find these Dragons, bond one, then figure out how to get rid of the horrors of the… Beyond?” He looked at Astra Zion, who shrugged a little at the name. Good enough. “Then what?”

“I didn’t lie when I said I foresaw there would be a time that the very Source itself was imperiled. You can stem the tide of the Breach, but not eliminate it. The Twelve did not fully comprehend what it is they wrought when they weakened my barriers between the Source and the Beyond. You will need to unite all the peoples of Terra if you wish to stop what is truly to come.”

“I thought there was no tangible good or evil?” Arcturus said with a hint of annoyance.

“These creatures are abominable because of their origin.” Astra Zion said simply. “That does not make them evil, it makes them abominations by our view of what is and isn’t natural within the Shardverse and its Source. To them, we are the demented oddities, I would wager.”

“That’s…”

“I know. But for now, my boy, focus on uniting Terra.” The Elder God reiterated.

“How in the… I’m not exactly rolling in armies!” Arcturus said, a flicker of irritation coming through.

“You will need to do it the right way. Not all unity comes from conquest.” Astra Zion turned and winked at him. “You can figure it out.”

“How long do I have before it’s too late?” Arcturus asked wearily.

“I do not know.” Astra Zion admitted. “But not long. It could be decades, centuries, millennia… But I think it will be far less. Their corruption has run rampant for too long. The strongest of my barriers are already fraying. In my current state, I do not have the power to know.”

“Right, and the reason I can’t just wake you all up instead…?”

“It will take the Dragons’ aid to reawaken me, Arcturus, and through that act my siblings.”

“How were you put to sleep in the first place?”

“We let them do it.”

“You wh—?!”

“Not now.” Astra Zion said firmly, in a tone with which even Arcturus knew not to argue. “That can wait until you bring back my first-made. We are almost out of time. Whether or not you realise it, this discussion is taxing for both of us. We will not be able to have them often.”

“So what happens to the voice in my head after this?”

“I will be able to communicate to you infrequently through the sliver, but it will largely be dormant. Its purpose has been served, and that burgeoning consciousness has been silenced through my awakening. I am… sorry. I know you had come to view it as something of a companion, as mad as it might have made you feel.”

“I…” Arcturus looked out at the dragon-filled vista. “I get it. I think. I’ll probably take it badly later. The silence will be… weird.”

“I have also taken the liberty of adjusting some of your abilities. You will understand when you awaken, and the System accepts my input on the changes.”

Arcturus, who had been about to bring up his sheet, nodded and forestalled the action. “Are you sure about all this? Me becoming the Royarch, rebuilding the Vitaean Empire… I’m a twenty-one year old kid from a Shard. I don’t know the first damn thing about ruling an Empire, no matter how many weeks of tuition I had.”

“No leader is truly prepared for the immensity of their task, Arcturus.” Astra Zion said with a calming smile. “It is the willingness to shoulder that burden regardless that makes them truly remarkable. You will do well. Trust in the Sovereign’s guidance, and learn all you can from the Grand Acropolis. I believe that, by the end of your month of tuition, you will have answers to many questions I can sense roiling in your mind.”

“Any hints?”

“Don’t ignore your quest objectives.”

“That… Well, I guess that’s fair.”

“And Arcturus?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be afraid of your draconic gifts when your cultivation of Vitae begins to Awaken them. If you fight them it will only more fully impede your control. Master them, and they will become boons you can truly treasure.”

Arcturus hesitated. “I’m not going to grow a tail, horns, or wings am I?”

“No.” Astra Zion laughed. “But you will enjoy internal physical benefits, mental benefits, and even some very discreet external physical benefits.”

“Like the fangs?”

“Like the fangs.” The Elder God agreed.

“So what now?”

“Now you wake up.” Astra Zion said. “I would also encourage haste in the completion of your goal with the Sovereign, and your Main Quest objectives.”

“May I ask why?”

“You’ll understand once you complete them.”

“Am I going to wake up in a bed again?”

“No. The passage of time here, even in a pocket of your own consciousness, works differently. Mere seconds will have passed within the Archivum.”

“I…” Arcturus sighed. “Alright. I really don’t like being backed into a corner, though. God or not, and even if I do somewhat trust you, this reeks of forced decision-making and fate advancement. It’s like I’m the harangued main character in an awful novel.”

“We are all the heroes of our own stories, Arcturus. Your path was Forged for you by your own hand, though. Of that, I am certain.”

“...Thank you, Astra Zion.”

“You are welcome, my boy. Now…”

Arcturus felt his consciousness blasted out of his own dreamstate.

“...Awaken!”

Arcturus opened his eyes, and found Lilith staring down at him with fear in hers.

“Hi.” He said with a flush of embarrassment. “So, this is awkward…”

“What happened?!” She demanded, looking a mix between relieved and panicked.

“Well…” He considered lying. He considered obfuscating. He even considered only a half-truth. However, looking into her eyes… She needed hope, and the kind of hope he could give her was substantial. Perhaps, even, enough to validate her faithful tenure at the Sovereign’s side. So, with no lies, he told her. He told her everything.

The look of teary-eyed joy that blossomed across her face proved it to be the right choice.