Epilogue: Tracking

The Grimspound

Pyron Dethos, The Suffering, Fourth Cardinal of the Church of the Third Advent

“I have just taken the first ten years of your childhood memory. How does that make you feel?”

A low, long whimper replied to him.

“Fascinating.”

Leather and armor scrunched and scissored as he leaned in. His beaked mask waved as he turned side to side, like a predatory bird, analyzing a curious subject. To him, she was only an experiment; the findings and suffering the sum total of her penance.

“Now, I’ll ask again,” his gentle voice was digitally distorted by the mask, “How many?”

The woman across from him trembled, crying quiet tears.

“Please- I don’t want to be here…”

“How many?”

“I can’t say it,”

She had been a tough one to crack. Twenty-seven years of her capture and sentencing to end up here in his embrace.

“You can- I am here. I broke your contracts. How. Many?”

She shook her head, scrunching her face as if to block him out.

“How many!?”

Gone was the gentle voice, his beak within inches of her cowering face.

“How many did you hurt? Do you wish to be free? Then admit your sin! Admit your crimes!”

She wept openly now, unable to hold back. He gripped her jaw, forcing her to stare at him. His glove strained and tightened. She barked a cry of pain as she quivered.

“How many did you hurt?"

The question hung like a corpse.

"How many begged for mercy, crying as you cry, wishing to go home? Did you ravish them yourself or did you only procure them?”

“How many?”

His voice once again became that all too soft and gentle river’s flow, hiding the razor blades beneath the surface.

“I’ll take ten more years, working my way back until you’re an empty husk just like those we saved. I know there were thirteen hundred and five victims; I rescued them.”

The room went silent. He pulled back, sitting back in his chair. She spoke in a whisper.

“It was thirteen hundred and five.”

Finally, some progress.

“You kidnapped them?”

She nodded hurriedly.

“You hurt them?”

She nodded slowly.

“Slay any?”

Her eyes darted to and fro before slowly closing shut. A single nod.

He stood up, pacing near the white plasticine coffin she was entombed in. She was wrapped in a straight jacket jumpsuit, locked in place, and dangling from the ceiling. There were many white coffins like hers, all hanging up high. The oubliette was dense with occupants. He knew each of their names.

And each of their sins.

Prisoner eight-nine-zero-zero. Trafficker. Murderer. Heretic. Traitor.

Not a single one was here without cause. Each was fought, captured, judged, and sentenced. She had been the worst trafficker in the last century. And that is because she was caught; she was only small fish compared to others. He remembered back to Ruth Amee La Roche, The Sun Mother. They had tracked Eight-nine-zero-zero down to Magara, a blemish upon the planet that many did not know of. Ruth had slain her companion in open combat, but Eight-nine-zero-zero had been less fortunate. His team had been waiting for her in orbit. The victims she was caught with had been blessed. The other twelve hundred had not been so blessed.

“How many did you slay? Why?”

She shook her head, face crumpling. He sensed her hesitation and spun to face her.

“Why? You’ve admitted everything- why stop now when redemption is upon you?”

His glove tightened like a fine steel cable.

“How many children did you hurt?”

The accusation emptied the room of all noise, as if into the vacuum of space. For one to hurt others so young was the height of evil.

She flinched away at his words. She was quiet as his words hung like the coffins around her. She licked her lips, glancing down and away as she spoke.

“When any began to awaken. When any resisted or tried to fight back- and they did.”

Pyron remembered the photos of the remnants of some of the traffickers. A child had awakened. Fire magic. Raw power. He remembered the name.

Saldean Cruz. He was a crusader now. He made a split-second calculation and realized a third of the trafficker casualties were from the children. The coffin method he enacted had somehow trickled down, being used to transport the ‘cargo’.

And even then…

He remembered Elenore. She had been Ruth’s Mendicant for almost a decade now, having awakened her formidable power after having been kidnapped as a child. Shield-gauge. Close range combat mage. Offense and defense that flowed into one. She had been a good pupil; a personal favorite. She wouldn’t be a Mendicant for long.

He shook from his thoughts, focusing his full attention on her.

“I slew any who tried to escape or who showed leadership.”

He nodded. She looked deflated, like the weight of her sins had lifted. She had finally told him everything. It was the final piece clicking into place. She supplied kids to some unknown, a possible demon of sorts while padding her own pockets. She caused the suffering of countless people out of greed and lust. He never could understand the motivations of faithless traitors, and he had been through thousands of prisoners. Today was an exquisite day. It was finished.

“Eight-nine-zero-zero.”

Her bobbing head stared at him, eyes unfocused.

“It is finished. At long last, your sentence has finally come to an end.”

She perked up, eyes wide.

“I’m free to go? I… repent of all of my wrongdoings and wish to rejoin humanity.”

He cocked his head, like a bird analyzing a curious thing. He let out a low thrumming of noise from his throat, as if considering her request.

“No.”

Her face twisted in concern.

“But you said it was finished!” she began to panic, struggling against her restraints.

“And it is. It is finished. You are finished.”

She began pleading, increasing in volume as he slowly closed the hinge of the white coffin on her. Her muffled and desperate scream rang out. Pyron tapped quickly on the front console, ordering her immediate termination. The edges of the container lit up and flashed briefly. A single high pitched scream rang out, muffled by the device. It spoke of the maximum possible agony one could experience in this life. And then, silence. She was gone.

“Goodbye, Eight-nine-zero-zero.”

He had reduced Eight-nine-zero-zero, who had thirteen-hundred years of knowledge, down to zero through complete disintegration. She was already weak, possibly only holding one-hundred and fifty years of knowledge left, which were her most recent memories; the time as trafficker and traitor. Her body could no longer regenerate at the cost of memory and expired. He had sifted and pruned through her mind, clipping out what wasn’t relevant. He saved her most treasured memories for his final gambit, which paid off in the most anti-climatic of admissions. A million words or mountains of evidence couldn’t bring the children back; couldn’t undo the hurt they and their families suffered.

But it was finished. Eight-nine-zero-zero was no more.

“My lord, we have exited FTL to the orphaned planet of Karmmrak some time ago. What is your will?”

The shifting of robes and clicking of metal added to the hail.

He turned, seeing many anform clergy. He lightly gripped his adamantite cane, turning to leave his oubliette. He waved a hand to the white robed assistants as they gathered the vacant coffin.

"Let's see the fulfillment of these visions. Send Commander Lissar and a ground force to investigate."

He had been troubled as of late. For months it was the same dream of the same planet. He had spent that long memorizing the constellations to gather its exact coordinates. A vision of a prince, human royalty from a long lost empire and his retinue. One with lost technology and schematics critical in the war against evil. Old world.

Click-step.

Click-step.

He walked with a limp, favoring his left leg. His gait was slow and ponderous, but he was a man in no hurry. He had an eternity. His virtue was patience. The uninitiated and easily swayed would object to his methods as torture. But it was no worse than what the heretics had put their victims through.

As sad as it is, an eye for an eye is the only justice. And one cannot rush justice.

He was the executioner, the judge and jury had been suspended.

The anform clergy surrounded him, keeping lockstep in formation. He halted at a large vat, eyeing it curiously. A brain and nervous system lay within. He broke from the square as the anforms parted, looking down at the console. He tapped slowly with a finger, querying the device.

Hello. It has been thirty days since we last spoke. How are you feeling?

Will you speak?

…..

…………..

…………………….

He waited a long moment expectantly. He knew they were awake. It was only a matter of prodding them from their deserved agony.

Awake. You have much to answer for, still.

………

…………………..

What is it?

The reply spoke of curtness and pain. He slowly tapped on the console.

For your Occipital bone. Where are you hiding the victims taken from Carsogne?

Go to hell.

He nodded as he tightened his fist.

Very well. Thirty days we shall speak again. Use that time to think over your answers.

Wait. Get back here. Get me out of this! I know my rights!

They were like that in the beginning after their dissection. They couldn’t quite believe they had been reduced to a brain in a vat. Each question answered truthfully was a bodily organ, bone or appendage regenerated. Carrot on a stick method, as it were.

Until they discovered the end of the road was to the pit of hell they had created for themselves.

He moved to the second brain in a vat. The body had been almost formed. Organs, nervous system, veins, some bones, to create a rough outline of a human body. The other unexpected side effect was the constant pain one would experience the more they were regenerated.

Hello. You have done so well. Are you ready to answer more? Cervical Vertebrae C-3.

He then received his answer. A disappointing answer, but an answer nonetheless. Text scrawled on his readout, mimicking an endless shriek.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He sighed. They were all made of glass, in the end. Able to do unspeakable acts to others, but unable to stand up to the justice that they so deserved. He was almost halfway there, too.

“Prisoner twenty-five-twenty-two. Set for termination and disposal.”

He turned away from the console, his clip-step gate ringing out in the cathedral silence of his oubliette.

“My Good Lord, the readings of the moon are most dire,” an anform spoke up.

“Dire?”

“Sensors and visual readout show the moon is covered in demon ash, albedo, and crystal. Initial samples indicate it all comes from the same creature. Commander Lissar is investigating as we speak.”

Was I too late? Did I tally too long? Too dependent on Lilith’s projections?

He felt a brief moment of concern, waving it away with but a thought. He didn’t have the whole picture.

“To the dropship, I will see for myself.”

“As you will.”

He limped along to the hangar bay where his dropship awaited. He passed by anform after anform, all with the same configuration for war. His dreadnought, The Grimspound, was old world Mars Technocracy, equipped with an army of Excertius, all left in storage for someone like him to discover. He also discovered another occupant.

“Prosine, assign another battalion for my departure. Air and ground configurations. Let none leave this sector.”

“As you will, my Lord.”

The bassy rumbling response was comforting to him. To have such a powerful AI in the hands of the church had been critical to the efficiency of the overall fleet. The Proturan war was won on the back of the first AI and their own might. Prosine had known everything about that species from the Old World. He had the knowledge and they had the sword. The Ancath, the Proturan gods, were slain and their fleets scattered to molecules.

His journey was slow and ponderous, but they all accommodated him. His pace never quickened, nor did his escorts feel the need to rush.

He was in control of the timeline and everyone knew it. He had earned their respect, loyalty, and devotion. The Cardinal was seen as the pinnacle of humanity, the bulwark to the dark abyss of destruction. His was not a trophy position. It was earned with blood and suffering.

Cardinals held their position by force.

No one questioned his decision to travel to Karmmrak, apart from the Pope himself. And even then, the elderly man blessed his journey in an instant. Lilith the Cruel had spent a week envisioning his trip, seeing no fatal losses for him, his crew, or his vessel. No crusade or mission was given the Pope’s blessing without her say so. She was the church’s secret weapon, a blade from the dark on top of prophetic knowledge. Seer and slayer. It was little wonder she was the second strongest Cardinal, besting even him in the Grand Challenges.

He arrived at an empty hangar as his anform retinue dispersed. Pyron halted and waited. A mass of glowing red light announced the materialization of the Excertius dropship. It was a shiny berylite hull, made up of four long blade wings in a box formation, connected together by some unknown means. Each wing sported dozens of small metal pods, lining each wing. He limped to the rear of the vehicle, the air thrummed with antigrav and magnetic energies. A ramp dropped down from the lowest wing, gracefully planting on the hangar deck. Without pause, he made his way up the ramp, ponderously boarding the transport vessel.

Inside the Helical dropship was tight, capable of fitting only a dozen men, or half that in power armor. Not to mention the extreme variability of Faithful Ones. The average Byzantine male was out of luck. He arrived in the front cockpit, which was upside down to the rest of the craft. This wing was exactly the same as the other three, capable of holding fifty-two average-sized beings. The pilot’s chair was couched in a spherical gyroscope, accommodating a single human pilot. Such Excertius vehicles were not known for their staticticity.

He sat down, gripping his cane in both hands as the restraints wrapped around his body as his own quantum storage tapped into the Helical controls

Uplink - Complete

Pilot detected

Garrison - Full

Weapons - Charged

Coordinates locked

Takeoff in Progress

The ship lurched to the left as it spun, putting his wing on top. The gyroscopic chair spun and corrected itself, seating his wing on top of the formation. A pressure pushed him back into his seat as the dropship launched, subsiding as soon as he passed through the hangar hull shielding. The port and starboard wings shifted back halfway into an open space flight formation.

He was left with his thoughts as Excertius did all the work.

What happened to Karmmrak? Why did my visions not account for this unknown threat?

“Begin report,” he ordered. His mind expanded with new and current information:

Moon: Karmmrak

Galaxy: Sutta

Galactic Date: 2.013.245.345

Status: Error, demonic gas cloud barrier disrupts scans.

Signs of major demonic influence present.

Immediate quarantine mandated.

Warning! Quarantine breach detected.

Traces of a vessel leaving orbit via FTL.

Gathering predicted flight path.

Seventeen potential planets at risk.

Alerts have been sent.

Quarantine of seventeen planets mandated

New orders: Investigate planet, prevent demonic influence.

PURGE ALL DEMONIC INFESTATION

CAPTURE AND EXECUTE ANY AND ALL HERETICAL SYMPATHISERS

PROTECT HUMANITY

FOR THE RETURN OF CHRIST

He let out a low sigh. This had suddenly gone from investigating a vision to an actual crusade in seconds. There was a heavy possibility that whatever demon that annihilated this world had fled for richer game.

Was he assisted? Or were hapless travelers the victim?

He breathed in, feeling the radiation of angelic and demonic energies washing over the planet. There was also an all too familiar spiritual presence that he caught alongside the others.

“Can it be..?”

This planet’s importance suddenly skyrocketed on top of the prince, his administrative rights, and old Primetech weaponry. He couldn’t wait any longer as the moon eclipsed his view.

“Commander Lissar, report.”

There was a brief pause as a man’s voice broke through his internal comms.

“Lord Cardinal, It is as we feared. The planet is destroyed. There was no vessel or prince on this planet. There was in fact, no life on this planet at all. Whatever destroyed this moon had fled as previously reported. We did discover unknown technology. It is dormant and we are keeping our distance, which is difficult based on the size of it. Never seen anything like it in all my years… Where were these during the Andar crusades?”

Lissar was usually to the point and didn’t drift in reports. Whatever they found, it was big.

The dropship broke through the outer atmosphere, sending a shudder through the hull. All he could see was the grey albedo of demon mist. It was capable of terraforming a planet to make it habitable for human life, their preferred prey. To have such demonic activity implied an incredibly strong entity. He was washed over by the latent spiritual presence.

His instincts flared as he prepared for potential combat. A ship may have left Karmmral, but that didn’t mean the demon did. Chances were high, but not impossible. He flexed his hand, tightening around the base of the cane.

The Helical ship broke through the atmosphere, slowing its descent shifting the port and starboard wings back to the front, and opening all wings except his own primary wing out like a blossoming flower. Their descent slowed as the antigrav nodes kicked in and he could see fully what Lissar was reporting. A giant metal mountain eclipsed most of the horizon. He gazed on in fascination tilting his beaked mask to and fro like curious carrion. He could sense it was active, impassively watching them.

"Commander Lissar, has it responded to any communications?"

"It has, my Lord. To Excertius. But what we get is a programmed response. I believe no AI is inhabiting its systems. I am hesitant to show even the slightest hint of aggression, lest we activate its defenses. At least until you arrive."

"Wise choice. I'll inspect it closely. Was there any other discovery?"

"Yes, my Lord. We discovered a temple that had shaken free of the ash. There was conflict in and around the shrine between the demon, an angel, a human, a dog, and as well as one or more anforms."

“We’ll start with the shrine.”

“Understood, my Lord,” Prosine replied.

The Helical drop vessel descended over the ashen wastes. It reminded him of Delscore-Seven during the early era of crusades. The demons used such a method to trap people inside a planet to feast on for later, keeping scourge vessels in atmo to prevent escape. Except for this time there were no other vessels apart from their own. And that metal mountain. He spotted the green marble shrine, jutting from the wasteland like a jade tree in a land of death. He recognized the designs, but was curious why they would use marble as a medium.

“Why were the Watchers here?”

This planet was becoming more and more entangled by mystery and questions.

It can’t be a coincidence that the prince was here. Did he arrive here on a vessel or was he marooned and picked up? Was the demon slain by the angel or was evil victorious? Where are the Watchers? We shall see in a moment.

The dropship halted a few feet above the ground, shifting back into it’s default box formation. The blades shifted clockwise, sending his wing closest to the ground. The harness undid itself, allowing him to leave the craft. He limped along to the exit, putting some hurry to his steps.

Click-step.

Click-step.

Click-step.

He halted at the ramp, seeing a torrent of ash buffeting the green marble. The temple itself was in pristine condition, unaffected by the wastes. The ectropy of the structure held quite nicely, despite the cataclysm.

A man in a black trenchcoat and high cybernetic collar greeted him. His black swept-back hair trembled in the gusting air. Pyron took his first steps into the ash, feeling his booted feet sink slightly in the fine dust. Metallic sentinels crept and marched along the temple stairs and reliefs, combing down the structure for any evidence.

“Commander Lissar, any updates?”

“There is, my lord. You will enjoy this-” he unclasped his hand, handing him a small berylite part.

Pyron gingerly grasped it, tumbling it around his fingers. His glass lens zoomed in, spotting the fine MAC coding. There was only one anform that made it a point to engrave every part, no matter how innocuous.

“Excertius? Here?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lissar replied, his voice betraying the subtle excitement and joy of the discovery. To the uninitiated, he would have sounded almost by-the-book. But, Pyron knew the man well enough for centuries, he could catch every subtle clue.

Pyron gave but a brief spare second of concentration and the small ring part broke down into black light, storing into his own QSD.

Excertius part - FA:2D:E3….

He waved away the notification, looking back at Lissar.

“Any other discoveries?” he began to limp along to the shrine with the commander in tow.

“We found more broken parts, separating them into two distinct MAC codes for Excertius.”

“So that made seven individuals in all?”

“Uh, six, sir. Unless you're counting the mass on the horizon.”

Pyron let out a brief bark of a response. Sometimes one forgot people didn’t have powers as mighty as one's own.

“Seven,” he corrected, “Prosine was here; the first AI.”

“A fragment? Here?”

“Absolutely. I can still feel his latent presence.”

He glanced up the temple stairs, each was as tall as he was and numbered in the hundreds. He felt at his left leg, letting out a sigh. He snapped his fingers and the Helical dropship began its deployment. It shot skyward, blossoming all wings like the petals of a flow looking down on them. Glowing red malevolent light announced the coming army. Hundreds of Excertius appeared in formation, all equipped with light armor and antigrav jump packs for the terrain with dozens of supporting war drones. They all took flight as a shimmering glittering cloud of metallic flocks to the temple and surrounding regions. The second wave arrived and departed. And the third. And the fourth.

Ten waves of Excertius materialized from the dropship in minutes, numbering in the thousands. One of the drones arrived by Pryon’s side. It was a flat disk of metallic berylite, hovering down at his boots. He stepped aboard gingerly, clacking the point of his cane down on its surface and gripping its jeweled handle in both hands. He adjusted his own center of gravity, tuning it to be just beneath the ash of the planet. It took off quickly, rushing up and above the marble stairs. Pyron’s perfect control of balance kept him aboard. One would have needed to imagine trying to knock over a rod buried deep in the earth.

The drone halted flush to the final step as Pyron stepped off and entered the shrine.

It’s all a single piece of green marble. The superstructure is deeper into the ash, possibly atop a mountain. The demon had been warring here for many millennia. That would imply the angel and or the security structure has been on Karmmrak the entire time battling to a standstill. Was the human a new variable to the equation or was the prince always here?

His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw the scene with all of his senses. He first felt the latent haze of spiritual malaise common from large fights. It was larger than a squad skirmish despite the close quarters, filled with adversarial strife of deep history. It was all intermixed with fear and anguish, determination and courage, duty and surprise.

And revelations.

The tricky part was to siphon through each feeling and determine who felt what.

The demon was a summoner. The ash were the remains of his minions. Very powerful to bring about imp class demons at will with apparently no downside, drawback, and emanates them with a weight towards the physical side of this plane. The demon also fought openly and with the brazen authority of an elder. It was also clever, trapping the angel and prince alongside Excertius and the dog in the temple’s shrine. Unable to break the security and angel, he opted for a slow python strategy of strangling safe ground away.

He knelt down, feeling at the fine ash. He glanced up at the floating drone in the middle of the room, arms and scanners extended. With a look, he got the evidence readout.

Angel blood, a wing fragment. Specialization: dimensional, warrior.

Human blood, skin, hair, saliva. Error - unknown.

Demon ash. Planetary tons of demon ash, crystal, and atmo.

Excertius parts. Legacy. Old world. Parts unique to two chassis.

He surveyed the scene, seeing where the fight boiled over from the central hall, into the main shrine entrance. The demon had either been waiting in ambush or chased them here. He parsed through all of the latent spiritual imprints, digging down to one single event.

A contract was signed. Not only signed, but some sort of interdimensional anomaly not found in contract signings with demons was present. It was too muddled to truly understand what it was. It involved the dog and elder itself. And then they all left by either antigrav transportation or the angel’s dimensional abilities, based on the lack of footprints leading outside. Although the emotion of anguish was enough that the angel may have been too weak from the fight. It had been too weak to defeat the demon. There was another that arrived to rescue them.

Prosine…

He felt that familiar sensation of the Machine Father’s spiritual presence. Despite popular belief, anforms and AI had souls one could trace. Each was as unique as stardust. And before the great Cryptwurm attack, they had been as populous as grains of sand on a beach. Now they were uncommon, with the survivors having been disconnected from the Great Nebula at the time of the attack. AI and anforms were numbered only in the millions now.

That made his discovery of a second Prosine here on Karmmrak a major breakthrough in decryption. With the prince having fled to other systems with an angel, demon, Machine Father and Excertius, he had suddenly become both extremely important and dangerous.

If this demon possessed the human or dog, he could have easily exploited the others…

There were still several loose ends.

He knelt down with great effort, feeling the ash-dusted marble floor.

“Enchanted. Temporal lock. Extravagant quality.”

He decided to take the enchantment. It was wasted potential here. He channeled his power in one hand and materialized a small toy metal horse in the other. One needed to grasp the enchantment and transpose it onto another object. He gripped the enchant like one would a sheet and pulled, directing it onto the toy horse. He could see the enchantment ripping and flowing into the toy like a transparent golden water flow. An energy last rang out deep into the temple.

It rumbled, shuddered, and then detonated.

He gripped the toy close to his chest as his suit reacted, buzzing, lashing; raging against the attack. Marble shards and boulders were reflected or turned to instant dust as it neared him like artillery rounds. He weathered the storm as it died down, sending a plume of ash and dust skyward. His comms were a buzz of concern and outcry. He rose to his feet, seeing the cloud dissipate. He looked to the drone in the center of the room, seeing most of its arms were sheared off, but it was relatively unharmed as his suit had protected it as well.

“My lord, what happened??”

“We’re alright, Lissar, there was an anomaly that was being kept in check by the temple’s enchantment. It fired off as soon as I took it.”

Pyron turned, seeing Lissar and Excertius anforms searching for threats as they spread out. He looked back to the origin of impact. Waves of energy washed over him. He limped to the lower central hall spotting the glowing weapon in the center of the rubble piled arena. It was red, brass metal, glinting in the light. At the butt of the long weapon looped a chain with a lantern attached to that same metal.

“Orhicalcum…” Pyron whispered.

Now it made sense how the angel could stand toe to toe with the elder demon. There was nothing rarer than Thrones- and he had two of them. That was what caused the explosion. It had been embedded inside the very walls of the temple, creating a solid matter collision once the enchantment was removed.

The temple was now open-air, revealing floating anforms and scattering green dust. His mind was updated with information regarding the now compromised structural integrity of the temple down to the foundation. It would heal in time, a strange new edition of Ectropy in this Somatheonic reality.

“Incredible…” Lissar muttered.

“Commander, hold here,” he commanded.

The man nodded and obeyed.

Excertius began to slowly surround the perimeter as Pyron advanced.

Prosine, what is the status of that defense platform?

“Lord Cardinal, I have begun the process of communicating with the XZ-99 Planet Defender. There are no AI present and the systems are made up of rudimentary triggers. It has accepted my credentials. Transportation based on common QSD storage paths estimated at fourteen months.”

He shook his head at the estimate. It was all too slow.

Very well, we’ll need to alert the fleet. We’ll use multiple Quantum storage drives at once and compile the Defender together.

“As you command.”

He stepped closer to the embedded Throne. A chill ran through him with each step. This was one of the closest things to God just short of Emmanuel himself. Made by his own hands, given to his servants and children. One could change one’s fate, the directions of empires, and the movement of the planets themselves. In the right hands, reality rolled forward towards enlightenment. In the wrong hands, ran the universe to ruin.

He got as close as he could and fell to his knees folding his cane into his lap.

“Incredible…” he was trembling at the power of the artifact.

He reached out and gently touched the spear’s shaft, brushing against the diamond shaped grip. He could feel the power emanating from it. He backed away just as the voices began to whisper from the Thrones. They were sentient and aware. And they could be compromised. Mad. Fallen.

All were possible with Thrones.

He stood, bracing against his cane. He gazed down at the lantern, admiring the exquisite and fragile latticework and filigree.

“Isolate them. No physical contact. Extraction protocol gamma.”

He turned to leave, still in the midst of excitement. Two Thrones, an unknown anform planetary weapon, Prosine’s presence, the warm trail of prince whose value was still to be determined, and a demon whose immeasurable power destroyed a planet.

He spared a glance as Excertius swarmed the Throne, working to encase it.

Pyron Dethos stepped atop the floating platform, descending back down to the ashy plains beneath the temple. He had much to relay to the Pope. And now he had a crusade on his hands. All because of a dream. The universe never slept, never rested, so neither would he.

Heart of adamantite.

Blood of orhicalcum.

Will of God.

He would track this boy down, slay the demon, find Prosine, and return them all to Church space. He flexed his gloved hand at the idea of being given full control of the crusade. And with the mention of an elder class demon, a full crusade who would be granted. His simple mission to meet this prince had suddenly become more complex. Alive or slain, he would have this heir. Bodies would inevitably be strewn from one end of the galaxy to the other.

His hunt began.