“I tried, I truly did. I searched for what seemed like decades, it exists and it is horrifying. If I can offer you, the reader, any advice it’s that: Some things are better left buried, dead to the world.” - Gyle Halt

The sun streaked past the snow-capped mountains, bathing the peaks in its wondrous glow and ignoring everything below. A group of ragged rebels huddled together underneath a rock shade, in front of them however was a large entrance with intricate designs lining a clean stone arch. A stubby figure approached the arch and laid a gnarled hand upon its surface, lightly caressing the indented artwork.

“Branth we have to get going, you can’t stare at carvings all day.”

Iyless clasped a hand on Branth’s shoulder from behind, urging him to get moving so that they wouldn’t have to suffer being so vulnerable out in the world for too much longer. Branth gave a passing glance to the scripture at the top of the arch, he’d tried to decipher what it meant but could only make out a few words. The Infant had something to do with it, as well as something called the First Deceit.

The group stumbled over loose stones and cracked floors that had barely stood the test of time, as they descended down a spiral staircase they came across a hallway with a door at the end, a door which was covered in blood. They cautiously approached the door, ignoring the stunning scenes depicted on the walls which stretched to the roof. The blood was perfectly pooled in the crevices of the door, no sign of a struggle.

“Someone’s already been here, an offering has been made. This may dampen our chances of forming a connection with the divine that resides here.”

Branth offered some insight into their chances of receiving a divine’s protection, they may have just reduced but that remained to be proven. Iyless strode up to the door and pushed it open with a light touch, the door segmenting into pieces and the retreating into the wall. They were greeted by the slumped over body of an old man, he was resting on the pedestal that allowed one to communicate to the divine.

One of the party members approached the man and pulled him off the pedestal, checking to see if he was still alive.

“He’s still breathing, he’s just been put in some sort of coma.”

Nsatia was one of their best healers, if any of them could bring a man back from the brink of death it was her. Without a divine’s blessing however, they didn’t have the connection to the magicks around them required to perform such a task. He would have to wait.

“Branth, I believe you should be the one to make the connection. We will become vassals by association, if the divine deems us loyal to your cause.”

Iyless urged him to step forward and claim the greatest of honours, while his and the rest of their groups power would not be as substantial it would save them from having to try and reason with the divine to split its power among them. Branth took a calm breath in and shook his head.

“I cannae take that power, I’m afraid I’m too weak to channel magick of even the most basic form. The most I could do is strengthen myself, a blessing would be wasted if only used for those purposes.”

Iyless offered the blessing to his peers, someone who was far more capable than he should take the role. He lowered his head, the answer dawning on him.

“If I die you will all be powerless, I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough, I can’t lead you.”

“We have already agreed upon this, the Old Words will guide us. In time you will learn, leadership comes easy to those who have the strength to command it. Now go.”

Iyless stepped warily towards the pedestal, his hand shaking as he found purchase on its smooth surface. Nothing happened at first, he felt a swirling storm in his stomach begin to surface. An acidic taste began to climb its way up his throat but was silenced when a suffocating pressure emerged.

“Oh, you have arrived. I was beginning to think that you might not show up at all. Though that would go against everything that I have learnt.”

A face appeared in an almost rehearsed fashion, tiredly appearing before the group. It acted disinterested like it had seen this exact thing happen many times before.

“I guess it’s time for that old bat to wake up then.”

The old man’s eyes flew open, pupils darting around the room. Last thing he could remember he was being showed something beyond comprehension, now he was surrounded by things.

“What sin!?”

He shouted suddenly, the cursed party stepped back in surprise. The face stiffened, it had heard something very unexpected. The man shot up onto his feet, a awe-inspiring display of acrobatics considering his supposed age. He turned his head towards the face which resulted in a gory sound of cracking bone and elderly disfigurement.

“Your song, it was beautiful. I have so many questions, what was your sin exactly? What child did you betray? Envious One, who is that?”

The man spoke so fast that by the time he’d asked but a few of his questions he was already out of breath.

“I see now that it would be unfair not to divulge some truths. Though my story is not one I will be telling in its entirety, at least not in this era.”

Iyless who was still gripping firmly to the pedestal spoke up, repeating the words in his head that he had been rehearsing.

“Greetings divine, I have come here to offer my services to you. In return I would ask that you pass onto us some of your power in the form of a blessing, while we may be cursed our physical vessels are large and can withstand your burden.”

He looked up to see the response, crossing his fingers for a favourable outcome.

“Sadly I cannot give my blessing to you adventurers for you are not meant for it. My blessing was claimed by another, though it is indeed weak. I’m sorry to inform you that the divines are dead, I am but a mere remnant of a traitor. The power you seek no longer exists.”

Iyless fell to the floor and laid down, staring straight up to the plant-infested roof.

“We’re fucked.”

“Oh my child no, now I believe that I have a story to tell to that man over there.”

The old man gleefully pranced over to the face and plopped himself down like a school child waiting for the teachers instructions. He clicked his fingers as his brain gave him an idea, from his cloak he pulled out a rough leather book and a thin piece of charcoal. The face eyed the book and then dismissed the thought of burning it, taking in a deep breath before starting its story.

“You wish to know who I am and I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, a name is a powerful thing you know. But I will tell you a little bit of history. You sought to know what power is greater than you, and I can tell you that it is but a child. The child is infinite and will never grow old, its power vaster than 10,000 seas.

Ystera, the world in which you call home is but a hair of power that broke away from its source. The Infant had no idea what you were, but it cared for this planet anyway. Singing to it as I do to its inhabitants, carrying on its work. You may not understand it, but I believe your people call it the Eversong.”

The old man’s hand whirled into action, the Eversong was just some tale that children liked to tell about a tune that was carried by the wind. Here he was being told that it was real.

“But something happened to Ystera, the cradle that housed the child when it was naught but a ball of energy grew jealous. It no longer had the attention it used to, that had been taken by this fledgling world. See, the cradle was a void, a barrier, that protected this space from the masses of energy. A safe haven of sorts.”

The notebook that the old man had in his decrepit hands began to fill up, page after page was covered in notes and theories. Questions begging to be answered.

The face began to well up, a single tear dripping from its eye.

“I cannot say anything further, it pains me greatly to speak about this.”

Iyless who had been silent the entire time, entranced by the wonder of the story, sat up and asked a very simple question.

“If you have given away your blessing, and the divine’s truly are all dead. Then who did you give your blessing to.”

The face smiled, ethereal dimples showing.

“An interesting world-traveller called Kestel.”