Giver remained kneeled as the chamber of the highest, those from before the kingdom below and remembered history, contemplated her words. The silence seemed to spread, swallowing all sound as the seven stared down at her.

“You. You failed us?” Vorn spoke to her slowly, a question rather than a statement, or bout of blazing Wrath.

“Yes,” she answered quick and loud enough that none would be tricked by Doubt trying to convince them they heard otherwise. Yet Confusion remained, which made the event all the more painful. To have her first failure spread about and studied with piercing stares as if they were gazing at some prized carving.

A loud laugh erupted from the man who asked her the question, and he turned his head slightly upward and spoke: “One of your schemes Harth? I must say it nearly had me, but only because of its lunacy.” The words were filled with Mirth, and she counted the moments when it would die and Wrath would take its place.

Harth didn’t protest, nor claim Vorn was wrong and should make amends for the accusation. Which he always did when one of his schemes was found out. No, he remained silent and his gaze locked onto her. A very piercing one as his mind whirled with numerous thoughts. He knew it wasn’t his scheme, and so Giver heard and felt a multitude of Thoughtforms warring within. All providing their say, claiming to hold the answer. Yet none did, all were like Harth and Vorn, believed her words a trick. Instead of the Cursed truth that it was. For the first time since her creation, she’d failed the highest. Failed to crush a rebellion and a usurper who continued his march on their realm.

Vorn booming Mirth withered and ended as he heard nothing coming from Harth. She could feel that Harth hadn’t even heard the accusation. No, his full mind and attention was on her.

“Not one of yours then, Harth?” Namcor asked, the emptiest of all the seven when it came to Thoughts. He followed the Inquisitors path, souls who sought to save themselves by being free from all such entities. Though that didn’t make it any less easy to hear his minds chatter, nor feel the waves of emotions washing off him. Confusion, like the rest, one morphing to shapes of Worry, and soon Fear, for the two might as well be one.

“I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of surprise.” Namcor continued, “Your schemes are practical, easy to look over as some sort of fluke or expected loss. Not” The elder waved a hand at her. “Not so brazen and unbelieving as this.”

Like before Harth didn’t hear any of the words being spoken, his mind to loud with an endless stream of birthing and dying Thoughts. All of it revolved around her. Harm wondering what people could have influenced her to try and lie to them, people who might gain from such actions. Thoughts of coups, maybe from within one of the many branches of his House.

On the Thoughts went, so many that it was difficult to look into his mind and not get lost. Slowly the rest were nearing such levels as well. Striving to figure out which among them was the schemer trying to advance their station, to sit upon the highest throne of the elders.

The vessels Giver had claimed blushed as she would have to be blunt, have to spell out to them all she had failed. Have to point out in detail that she wasn’t the perfect tool that they believed her to be.

The only one taking her words, even if slight, as genuine was Arnloe himself. He sat far above the others, seated within the masterfully crafted throne marking him the highest of all. His gaze like Harth seemed to be trying to burn its way into her inner workings.

His Thoughts were more focused than the others. More aligned with contingencies he’d would need to activate to ensure he kept his strength and remained worthier than those around him. For he to Thought in lines that her actions were part of an elaborate scheme. None could accept the truth of the matter, curst as it was.

“I agree with Vorn,” said Owlcar second highest of the seven. “This isn’t something Harth would try to pull off, its drawling to much attention. But Xoccil, this sounds more like something you’d do.”

Xoccil smiled up at him, for it did fit, if her words were actually lies. Xoccil was one for fun and entertainment, flashy reveals, acts that caused mayhem. Which were often a detriment to everyone and himself. It was the largest Mark of why he was the lowest of the seven. Because of that, and the cost of them, his schemes were spread out, never more than one every two Arcs. Yet to them he was breaking this well-known trend.

“If only Owlcar,” Xoccil said sweetly and seductively. “Truly I Offer that I had been the one to think of this, the looks on your faces right now.” He breathed in deep, as if tasting the air, before expelling it. “It’s truly something wonderful to behold.

“This is a first,” Fullan said, his voice soft, and often hard to hear. “Xoccil would have admitted to this in a Breath, Harth over there is still as a stone. So I don’t suspect him to be the culprit either, plus as Vorn has mentioned, this isn’t a scheme he’d favor anyways.”

Of all the Highest present, Fullan was the one most taken by Fear, but that was normal. He always expected the worst and planned for it. Always thought there was a scheme in the works, so instead of trying to expand his power base. He focused only on preserving what he had. This worked well for him over the Cycles, made it that he was a center stone within the ranks of most high. Not rising but never falling either.

“Perhaps it's you Fullan,” Vorn said, his voice booming with traces of mirth forced in. But she could see and feel within him. Vorn was aligning with Worry now, the two culprits that normally schemed weren’t acting as they should. “Grown tired of always hiding your House behind its walls. Maybe finally got the urge to expand and claim some new rock to bend to your wants?”

Fullan looked down at him, not amused by the accusation, only more troubled. For he could see now, with the two likely schemers not acting to be the ones in control, it meant it was one of the other four. “Not I Vorn, I have no need for such actions, as you can see, considering my station compared to yours.”

Vorn didn’t hide his resentment of such a boast, gone was the mask of Ease and Mirth. Instead one more aligned with Anger was displayed. Vorn was the simplest of them, prone to blunt acts to get his way and spread his influence. “You’re at that spot Fullan because you don’t do anything” He spat. “Always hiding your prizes and Lowly, always hiding your shiver hands within your cloak. Don’t you ever get tired of being a coward?” Vorn asked sending up a grin full of sharpened teeth, and mad eyes.

“No,” Fullan said in a pointed tone. “What about you Vorn? Don’t you ever get tired of being Anger pet.”

“Anger is my pet you spineless Wordane!” Vorn screamed back, half rising from his seat. Enough that she rose from her kneeled position and gave Vorn a look of warning. He stared at her, Anger whisper to him to act. That he could hold her back long enough to get his hands on Fullan and snap is thin neck.

She took a step forward, and Thought went still as Vorn leaned back into his seat. Blessed for all, beating down one of her shapers wasn’t something she could experience Joy from. The Elders had made sure of that when crafting her.

She moved her gaze from him, angled it upward to take in the others who’d gone silent, she saw their full attention had returned to her. Even Harth, as he was very keen on watching her every move. She could feel it from some of them. Fear born from the Thought of her moving against them. Even though it was impossible for her to, she wouldn’t even know of the Thought, if it wasn’t for the Elders always thinking it.

“There is no scheme,” she said loud and slow. “Some grand plan one of you is putting together to change the lay of the highest. I failed, Bliss and the Maker she serves proved to be more than common usurpers. They’re a duo with a great deal of strength behind them.” And with how things had turned out, probably had more than she knew of. Even now she could feel them through the shroud encasing all those deemed worthy by the highest.

The two threats had been still for some time after they swift flight up the realm, outpacing the Nightmare that was flooding into her senses. Endless, a darkness creeping closer, one she should be battling. Instead, she was dealing with a more process concern, one greater than the Nightmare ever could be.

“You must understand Thought,” Owlcar said. “How absurd that statement is to us. You were provided a Flock made from the Sanctums Above. Lent the worthiest of Hearts and fortunes worth of small ones. You had the highest of Lowly to add their chants to yours if needed. Yet you say, you failed.” The Thoughts were clear, and all had them, none yet believed her. Worry and Fear were the reason for this, she accepted the situation, she didn’t want to think it possible either. And yet here she was, beaten by a Curse, and an unknown Vail that made the souls spin to his tune with ease.

Giver noticed that Vorn and Xoccil had half-formed smiles, and in their minds laughing, wondering what one of them had done to her, to get her to act the part needed for the scheme. Wondering if they could do the same, find some means to tempt her. So she too would do as they say for a short time without having to consult the rest of the Elders.

Blessedly the lowest of the seven were the only ones still not taking the event seriously. Harth and Fullan most of all, Harth because if she had failed it meant a threat was out there that could jeopardize many of his schemes. While Fullan mind was focused on defense, and maintaining his hold on those under him.

“I understand perfectly Elder,” Giver said, pulling their Thoughts back to her. “You all bestowed me a great many gifts and expected results fitting of the gesture.” She bowed her head. “But I don’t have that this time, your usurper is a worthy one.”

That got the seven to go still, an order placed into her, one she was only allowed to speak if the event truly reflexed it. A contingency of sorts, when one of them became too brazen and she came to the conclusion they were trying to end their rivalry and seize the throne permanently.

“How worthy?” Arnloe sitter of the esteemed throne, highest of all, said as he leaned forward. His voice was shrouded in power.

Before she’d thought it a grand display of his worth. But Giver had felt another, and experienced what the Maker had to offer. Knew if it came to a fight the seven would be turned just as easily as any Lowly.

“Worthy than the Wesh.” She announced causing a deaf silence and serene stillness to take the chamber. The Mirth in the two lowest was snuffed out, replaced with gnawing Disbelief and Fear. Something the other five felt as well, but some minds moved faster than others, not entirely accepting her words, yet still planned for the possibility of it. Though with what she’d faced their planning wouldn’t change anything without Cursed actions being taken.

For many Breaths the spiraling chamber of thrones remained in a realm of absence. Minds fighting with her words. Arnloe was the one to break this event, his voice filling with more power, a display to hide his own Worry. “The Wesh aren’t someone to be taken lightly Thought, their betrayal sundered much of Thaellis, yet you claim this Maker is worthier still?”

“By far.” Giver answered plainly, no fancy words, or assurances that she would take care of the task and they needn’t listen to Worried filled words. No, Bliss alone was something she wondered if she could handle. But with The Maker added on to the task, she was going to need aid in this.

“How?” Arnloe asked again his frame a blazing light as his soul ready it to strike at an unseen foe. Fear was thick in him, the Cycles of Strife were a Cursed time for the highest. He’d nearly died a handful of times as order fell, and all with a speck of worth turned on each other for the title to rule. For a usurper to be worse than that, a time of Strife. Well, Arnloe was the highest for many reasons, but taking any threat seriously was perhaps the greatest of them.

“The Wesh focused on the vessel, bent it to their needs,” Giver stated. “The Maker, and his Bliss are the opposite, they focus on the soul.”

“Like the Curses?” Harsh asked finally reopening his mind to the realm around him.

“Loosely,” Giver answered. “Curses influence the souls in order to claim the vessel, some try to claim the soul as well, but as you know, it’s a hollow act that I can easily undo.” Eyes widen, understanding struck even to the lowest two, for they were still of the seven, the highest of the Vail, worthier than all.

Namcor, even as he practiced the ways of Inquisitors had the forms of Worry in him as he spoke: “You failed to remove the Curse known as Bliss.”

Giver bowed her head again, acknowledging the statement, it was the event that had decided the lay of the fight. “Bliss, I say the name, and you all hear it and think of it in your own view of comfort and pleasure you’ve indulged in. But the Bliss we face is something none of you have felt. Nor any Vail.” Giver added, her declaration getting eyes to narrow.

“It is a warmth that spreads through your vessel and soul, consumes both if allowed, and they do, Elders, all the Lowly do. They accept her completely, let her sink into them as deeply as she wants. To the point they become her, and she becomes them.” An unsettling silence formed around them again as she revealed, what the Lowly would have considered Curst infused truths. “When I tried to remove the Curse claws from the masses Consumed, it was not the Curse who fought me. But the souls themselves.”

Giver frowned at the memory, recalled her Chant weave through most of Bliss defenses, recalled with retrained Anger how the Curse smiled at her and laughed, before the real fight began. “Thousands, every single one she has Consumed turned on me, fought me as if I was the Curse. They undid my Chant, rallied behind Bliss, as all were her.”

She focused on Arnloe, the one who would take every measure needed to stop this threat. “Bliss can’t be undone, and with every soul she Consumes, she grows more powerful."

She sings.” Giver added, “her and the Maker, for it is from him the warmth truly flows from. Bliss warmth is an imitation of it, a well-crafted one, but compared to the source it is a dim warmth to the blaze the Maker unleashes.”

“Then why didn’t you kill him?” Asked Vorn Anger ripe within, even as she spoke of a threat, his mind only focused on the matter that someone other than them was aiming for the right to rule the Vail. “Did this Curse prove to be so formidable, that you couldn’t even near this usurper and cave in his hollowed head?”

She kept her focus on Arnloe as she answered, “I tried, amassed a force that would have crippled Sanctums, would have shattered my army of Lowly if they'd been the ones to face it. But the Maker is called such for a reason. Crafter of Curses, but also wonders. From him the flow of metal Constructs had come. Those used to claim Sanctums. But those were but trinkets, playthings compared to what he made for himself."

She looked down for a Breath as the memory of the event returned to her. "When my forces emerged in the cavern he held himself. It was not a man I faced but a Wonder above all others.” She had their attention in more ways than one, some had a genuine interest in the usurper. But most listen because of the whispers of Fear. Craftsman were guarded and watched because of the knowledge and the items they could make. For there to be one that was rogue, making objects for himself rather than his betters, it was indeed a need for alarm.

“The Maker as constructed for himself a floating sphere the size of Sanctums." She informed ". On its surface, Wards that make all others appear to the carvings of Newborn. Embedded within the stone surface are hundreds of Hearts that rival those any of your Crafters can make. With five greater ones spread out along its surface the size of small estates.” Disbelief spread in them, but one that wouldn’t last, she had made Shards for the occasion, and as they gave masked appearances hiding what they truly felt. She sent the Shards floating towards them. None refused the gesture and they looked within to see the sight of the object she described and listened as she continued.

“None of it is for show, some ruse to get an attacker to flinch and not try. I sent forth my Wrath, struck the Sphere with power that would have spent Sanctums. Over and over I unleashed that power, yet the sphere was unfazed, its Wards glowing brighter still where I struck. The Maker uninterested in my display, allowed me to attack without reprisal. All the while, as you all can see, the River of falling souls flowed into his construct.” She added her voice filled with bewilderment.

For all the Curse known as Bliss could do, the Maker was no less a threat. His ability to strip even her of access to the souls was an outcome she would find difficulty at the best of times to settle with. Without the strength of souls, she would be as powerless as any Soulless, and it was possible that was the Maker’s grand plan. Take all for himself and leave everyone else in such a miserable state. Have all the Vail regardless of the worthiness of their channels, be nothing more than a simple Wordane, or Soulless mining the rock for their betters.

She waited for the seven to come to terms with the visions displayed to them. Scenes the Lowly would have sealed away in a small forgotten chamber. The Elders weren’t so fragile to follow such behavior. They’d seen many Cursed events over the length of their existence, been to the realm above the Crown, lived before a time their realm was more than just stone.

“This current being displayed to me,” Arnloe spoke. “Is it affecting the souls on our level? Is the pull the Maker employing causing even more damage to spread across the Crown of the realm?” The questions were a worthy display, another show of why he was the highest of the seven. While others thought of ways to maintain their strength or use the Makers appearance as a means to expand their reach. Arnloe thought of the consequences such a being as the Maker brought about.

“Yes highest, and his pull isn’t stopping either, even now souls are surging down with a strength that carves away the already thinning stone. I am spending much of myself patching the top layer, trying to make sure the Crown doesn’t shatter entirely. But it’s a task I’m failing.” And the consequence of that would be most dire. No one knew how many souls had acuminated in the lost realm.

With the knowledge bestowed to her, there wasn’t supposed to be any amassing of souls at all. The Chants of the past carried on by the Anchors were supposed to spend everything in the continuation of cleaning the realm. Yet something had gone wrong, like everything else involved with the final chant of the past.

This unforeseen problem led to a rough estimation of what could be beyond the Crown. They only knew the flow was enough to flood much of the realm Below if it was allowed to drain unchecked. But that was only one situation they’d have to deal with. The other, known only by a few, was the Nightmare was growing from it. Surging to sizes and strength the Vail had no means to fight without her.

Her words had the seven growing even more uncomfortable and fret of mind. But at least the Thoughts pertaining to her words being seen as that of a scheme were withering away. However, the event wasn’t worthy enough to be considered blessed with the growing number of Curses whispering to them. Worry was growing fat, and if the patterned continued, and the seven came to understand the situation they were in, Fear would too.

“Has the Wrath in the lost realm lessened any?” Fullan asked, his mind filled with constant Thoughts, trying to conceive a means to preserve the strength he had. Most of the other seven ridiculed Fullan in their minds, some going so far as to roll their eyes. It was a subject rarely spoken of now after so many Cycles left in the realm of stone. Even Arnloe, who’d been there to help with the creation of the event. No longer produced much Hope that the realm would be reclaimed.

She shook her head and displayed a mask of apology. “No Elder, the opposite in fact, or perhaps I’m merely hearing the true strength of the forces beyond the Crown now that so much stone has been removed.” Many shifted unease in their thrones, as Fullan frame deflated at the news. “Whatever it might be, we will know soon enough, once the Maker has reached this level the Crown will shatter in full.”

“The Maker wouldn’t be so foolish as to let that happen,” Vorn spoke hastily, Nervousness growing within like so many others. “He can’t rule if everything has been drowned in the dead, or taken by the Wrath of the past.” Other nodded in agreeance, but the two highest did not.

“He could,” Arnloe spoke “If he only means to rule over those in his Sphere. From what Giver has displayed, it may very well be the means to survive in a drowned realm.” The highest returned his gaze to her eyes glowing with worth. “Is this what the Maker intends?”

“I don’t know Highest,” Giver answered. “I was never able to get near enough to see his Thought, the Wards that make up the Sphere shield him entirely from me. But Bliss on the other hand, even with her guarded mind, has loose lips. More than once she’s revealed her task to save as many Vail as she could. It might be the Maker does indeed intend to shelter those he sees fit in his construct and leave the rest to be removed by the Crown shattering.”

That alone wouldn’t end them, the Wards of the Sanctums and the Roads that connected all would hold against the tide. But they would be completely trapped within said safe grounds. Unable to spread out even as their numbers began to rise and room dwindled. Then there was the Nightmare growing fat off eating the dead. She recalled the Processors, and Nightmares great than that. Knew such forms would need little effort to push their way through the Wards. But all of these were threats she could now deal with. Bliss had revealed many things, displayed Chants the Vail didn’t have access to, nor the souls.

“I have the means to keep you all safe Elders.” Giver spoke with certainty in her voice. “The fight with Bliss revealed much to me, and with it I have the knowledge to hold back the dead in a localized area.”

Copying Bliss chant of forming constructs of the ancestor’s power had been easy to achieve after watching her through many visions. The Curse shared many traits with Arrogance as it displayed its tricks without a care of who saw.

“So, ruin will be avoided then?” Arnloe asked. The others doing the same with the way their eyes peered down at her.

“For Sanctuary at least," she answered. "Already I’m performing the task, condensing the flows of souls and using them to form barriers to reinforce the Crown above us. With time I could do that to the entire length, and allow Crafters to form a second layer behind it of carved stone to make the fix permanent.” Relief sprouted within them, even Joy for the threat beyond would be finally barred from harassing them. The flow of souls could be closed off and reworked so it flowed to where they deemed worthy. If only she had the time.

“Blessed to hear,” Owlcar said his voice mirroring the words. “Yet I’m interested in how this Curse Bliss knows so much more than us, the highest of the vail, made to appear ignorant. And how much you’ve acquired from her?” Others had more question, now that Owlcar had voiced his own. Worry doing much of the work as it whispered endless possibilities.

“A great deal Elder," She admitted. "It’s the only reason I have had some success against the Curse.” But for how long that would be determined by her shapers. Giver called to her many selves, the souls that agreed to become her. But only enough to display what she and Bliss were capable of, so the Elders would refrain from making a swift judgment. “I watched her from visions the Inquisitors provided. With them I was able to perceive many of the Curse gifts. Even her worthiest one, the one that makes her far above the Wesh as a threat.”

The gate carved and jeweled with the finest the Craftsmen could produce opened and from it Constructs mirroring her likeness stepped through. The sight got the seven to ready their channels out of Cycles of habit. “They are all me,” She said to have Calm spread in them. “Bliss is a Curse but she different from the rest in an important way.” The Constructs formed ranks behind her, looking up at those she was task to serve. “Bliss Consumes the souls, the vessels she claims are but small boons in her eyes, one swiftly discarded if events make them of little use.”

Arnloe leaned forward in his throne, eyes fixated at the many versions of her. Fear spoke and Worry, both rambling about what she was becoming, that she’d gone beyond the means she was supposed to. And she had, was forced to in order to continue achieving the Task of service. Bliss had forced this upon her with its ever display of tricks.

Harth looked up to Arnloe, his voice deeply filled with Fear. “The Thought has spread itself highest, we can’t allow this.” Others thought the same as they looked at her.

Giver moved her eyes back to the Highest, his gaze unblinking, his mind turning as Thoughts fought one another. “It was my only means to fight Bliss, by the time she’d reached my aura of protection she was thousands. Each able to be independent if needed, each pull on the ancestral strength of the departed.” The rest returned their gaze back to her, minds filling with more Curses and considerations.

“Bliss can’t be stopped by any other means,” she continued while there was still time. “The moment any Vail hear her call, and that of the Maker, it’s over. The souls within turn and become yet another Bliss aimed at overwhelming those in the way.” The display of truth had a stilling effect, but not enough to cease the thoughts of removal, or replacement. Often it had been threatened at her, that she could be undone and a new version of herself be made if events called for it. Yet such a thing hadn’t happened, and she wanted to keep it that way. A new version of herself wouldn’t handle Bliss as she should. Would make the same mistakes all over again when dealing with that Curse.

Arnloe gestured at the constructs presented, “This method, you say it the only way. That being Consumed protects the individual from being taken by Bliss.”

“As long as the soul chooses it freely, was not in any way forced or bribed into doing so, then yes.” Giver corrected. “It the same for Bliss, why there’s things nothing I can do to end her like the rest of her kind.”

Silence consumed the chamber for a time, the seven lost in the maze of their own quarreling Thoughts. Fear was becoming rampant but not enough that she would have to intervene and remove it. Something she’d never had to do before either, at least not to the Elders. Lowly Vail, however, it was a common practice that they often came to her for.

With how things were going though that might change, it had been a long time since any of the seven felt their life threaten. The time of Strife and the Wesh failure to claim supremacy had removed most power groups that could have harmed them. So Fear was having more sway over them than that Curse normally would. It tried its best to influence Thoughts, and lead members of the seven down certain paths of thinking.

“The shrouds of silence won’t work as well as any of you might think." She said as many of them began looking to that Chant as the means to hold off Bliss.

Gazes moved back to her, some turning to glares as their inner discussion were interrupted. “The Maker, more than his curse, is able to work his way through the Chant, allow his own to seep through and have the protected Vail still hear his song. But that’s not his only means to counter that Chant. At the end of our fight, he began pouring his own soul into my Hymn and began usurping control over them. Undoing the layers of barriers I’d put in place to protect the army you all provided me.”

“He can do that?” Vorn half asked, mind racing and Worry speaking quickly in his mind.

“With enough ancestral strength at his command, it seems he can do anything.” Giver answered, which was the worst thing about this usurper, his endless knowledge of chants made counting him impossible. The best she could do was copy what he displayed to the realm.

“With that morsel of truth are you telling us the Maker and his Curse Consumed the souls of the army we lent you?” Harth asked, his mind now free of scheming plans

“Some,” Giver answered. “I was able to do the same,” she gestured to the constructs. “But the majority of those who wouldn’t accept the offered I displayed, I killed.” The admission had the chamber swallowed by silence again as the seven stared at her with mixed gazes.

Namcor sent both a disproving look and Thought before he spoke: “You were to aid and protect them as they dealt with the usurper, not kill them.” Others agreed, even after the visions she’d show them. It was laughable now to think the army of Flocks would have been able to harm the Maker in any way. And that was if they’d been able to get close enough to attack before being overrun by the Nightmare, or Bliss.

“I couldn’t protect them from his Hymn.” Giver said in her defense. “He was more skilled than I, and the Maker would have gotten through and Consumed the whole army if I hadn’t acted. They had to be removed before they heard his song, for even Death grip isn’t strong enough to keep the souls of the departed from joining him.” Concerned gazes were shared before eyes returned to her. “Just the smallest whisper of his chant, and it's over for the Vail who hear it, dead or not. The Maker and Bliss have them then, and only gain more strength from it.”

Spreading her arms to the judging seven she spoke: “I had no choice, it was the only way to protect them from being Consumed by an entity against you, as is one of my Tasks.” She reminded them, one that normally took up a worthy portion of her time.

Thoughts formed and collide with each other as the seven argued within their minds. All of it revolved around the same question, one Arnloe asked as the rest feel deep into themselves. “How is it then we are to fight this Maker?” That was the core of the matter, not the Maker defenses, or worse his offense ones. But getting close enough to do anything at all, before being Consumed.

She knew the answer, used it last time she’d and Bliss fought. She would have to be the only one to engage, the Vail weren’t ones who could aid. Save for their Offers but they don’t need to be near the battle to do that. Gesturing to herself she called out, “me, Highest of the seven. My bindings and dis-alignment with the Maker allow me and only me to face off against him.” Sweeping her hands to the constructs behind her. “And the Maker pet as provided me the means to do so. No Vail needs to be sent.” A blessed outcome for all. For Bliss turned even the Lowly into threats once their souls were claimed, and housed within the fabric of a construct.

While the seven considered her answer she spoke to them again, for this was a problem that had to be dealt with. Though she was tasked to preserve the Lowly, that was second to keeping the seven safe and alive. “The Lowly.” She started raising her voice to gain their attention. “Even in the Sanctums are a liability. Bliss doesn’t need to stay with the Maker, like before He could send her out to Consume Sanctums.”

She didn’t need to elaborate, the seven came to the understanding quickly, none of them pleased by what she was offering.

“The Lowly are needed.” Xoccil said, his once merry attitude souring at the event she was displaying. “They keep us entertained,” he continued. "Deal with matters far beneath us so we can focus on higher matters.”

“I am aware Elder,” Giver said with a bow of her head. “But they’re not as needed now,” she added manifesting a construct in front of them. “I can do all the Lowly tasks, provide everything you will ever need, and at the same time not be susceptible to the Makers call.” Minds went quiet for a short Breath as the revelation struck them that she could indeed do what she just declared. Grasped that the Lowly, who they tolerated for the gains they provided, were no longer needed and seen as the hindrance they really were.

“What about our game?” Vorn question looking up to those worthier. “Without the Lowly to use how will we conduct who is to sit where?”

Before any considered the problem, Giver provided her own answer. “I’m only talking about the removal of Lowly in the Sanctums, those in Sanctuary will be left to continue their Tasks.” Sanctuary though larger by far to another other safe ground, was still small enough for her to provide an adequate defense. Once the Maker was beaten back and crushed as the Wesh had been, then the Lowly could slowly spread out once more.

Still many of the seven weren’t too pleased. She could see their thinking. The thought of not having to deal with Lowly who didn’t always do as instructed would be pleasing. But it also meant much ground was going to be lost, and their complete reliance on her would make replacing her a more cumbersome task.

“I understand all of your hesitations, what I ask is a heavy demand. But the moment Bliss or the Maker can get their voice to be heard, said Lowly and land will be lost anyway. There's too much ground for me to protect with the means needed to hold them off. So, the Maker will only grow in strength, a great deal in truth if he’s allowed to claim full Sanctums.”

And they would be, the Sanctums Above were rather larger and over crowed than the Below counterparts. The Maker and Bliss would gain tens of thousands if allowed to reach the safe grounds in the state they were in now.

Still, hesitation filled their minds, thinking more of the loss rather than the matter they were in danger. She would need to compile more shards then, but for now she would do her best to describe what was coming for them.

“You see my constructs seven,” she said. “Image thousands heading for you, many larger than Sanctums in size. Each capable of Chants that would easily rend anything placed in their path. That Elders, is Bliss if she or the Maker get their hands on the Sanctums as they did to a number of those Below. That number will increase drastically.” Both alarmed and surprised gazed met her and finally Thoughts formed more attuned to what they should be considering. That if this matter was handled incorrectly, Death would soon be there to claim them.

“Not all will be lost,” Giver added. “If allowed I’ll display my offer to the loyalist first, then further out. Explain why this must be done, and the need for them to be taken by me. To be me, so I will have numbers of my own to try and counter Bliss.” Concern was large in them, Harth most of all, his mind was always filled with schemes and plots of betrayal. Thoughts that reflexed themselves on all things outside his mind. He would never trust her as others did, stronger in their belief the bindings placed on her would make sure she behaved properly. Harth didn’t hold such thinking, every Rotation he waited for the moment she might break free of their hold.

‘If it wasn’t for you Harth I wouldn’t even be aware of such thinking’s, never conceive of betrayal or breaking my bindings.’

“I condemn this,” Harth said, looking back up to those higher. “We should simply have her kill the Lowly in the sanctums, allowing her to claim more power is the creation of yet another threat to be put down.”

“I second,” Vorn said, not beholden by Fear in the way Harth was, but wary enough to want to avoid the birth of another problem.

“Third,” Xoccil spoke after he’d down another cup of spirits. It allowed him not to be alarmed, not in the way he should be. Nor did Fear influence him like the others. No he simply didn’t want her with further means to interfere with his own schemes of grandeur.

There was some silence, enough for the like of Vorn and Xoccil to turn their gazes upward. Giver watched the debate taking place within their minds. Saw the outcome already, and was relieved to see it aligned with what she needed.

“I approve,” Arnloe said, eyes studying the constructs behind her. The other three followed in his example, all clearer thinking. True they thought of the problem she may become, of the increased difficulty of replacing her. But for now, they had more pressing concerns. It mattered not how strong she became if the Maker won out anyways and they were all dead.

Only Arnloe thought of that last part, he’d had too many close calls when dealing with the Wesh creations to fall into thinking’s that he couldn’t die.

The three to condemn her request didn’t argue, and only Harth was truly concerned and furious about the situation. He said many Cursed things in his mind aimed at those above him, but for now, hadn’t started thinking up plans to cripple their power base. Not that he would get the chance to do so either, much was going to be lost so the few could be kept safe. The seven would be busy preserving what strength they could, while she was going to be busy trying to hold off a usurper that had legitimate strength to succeed.

“Your request has been granted Giver.” Arnloe spoke with power in his voice, a command this, aimed at her bindings. “You will carry out the Task provide as your top priority, save for preserving us.” The bindings on her structure pulsed and tightened. “Consume those willing to take up your offer, cleanse the rest. I want no Sanctum taken by this Maker to have any Vail he could possibly claim.”

She bowed her head low, felt the command spreading through her, and out towards her other selves, versions that were already on the move to enact the Elders demands. But she couldn’t, not yet, even though it pained her, she’d not been dismissed.

“After you will bring your gained strength here, use it to ready Sanctuary defenses. You will make it that when the Crown shatters Sanctuary will be spared of the tide of dead.” Arnloe decreed putting on another condition that she was desperate to run off and enact. “You may go Thought, your betters have higher Tasks to discuss.”

She fell to her knees for a Breath before she and the rest of her selves hurried out the chamber, racing to do as instructed. The binding pulse and whispered. Told to be loyal, to do what was commanded, to provide for those highest. There was an urge to claw at them, to ripe out the strangling bindings, but she ignored that impulse. For it was the bindings that had allowed her to remain herself as the warmth of the Maker bathed her. Called to her, only the pain of the bindings had stopped that, made her aware enough not to listen.

‘You will not have me, Maker.’ Giver thought as she streamed down halls. ‘Just as you won’t have the souls of those Above.’