In the middle of a garden of unparalleled beauty, which was spread out below a Palace that was indescribable in any language of mortals, there was a shadow. A short young man with heterochromatic eyes was standing there. He was wearing a patched cloak made from the memories of the Wind itself. He held a staff carved from the tree that had been struck by the very first lightning bolt to ever pierce the skies.

The young man calmly looked at the numerous fountains and statues in this garden. He idly inspected the beautiful stone sculptures. However, none of them could compare to the one that was hidden in the shadows. The ancient marble statue was covered in ivy and mold, even chipped in places. It was so old that time itself could seem like a bashful young child in comparison to it.

“What are you doing here, mortal?” A voice boomed. “There is no place for mortal flesh in the halls of the gods!”

The man who’d spoken was twelve feet tall, unapproachable and ferocious. His hair, which was the color of a molten sun, streamed out from underneath a golden helmet with two black horns. Armor that glittered in the midday sun covered his body. A cloak shone behind him with a hot flame. Mighty hands that were ostentatiously uncovered and devoid of any protection as well as scars rested on the hilt of a two-handed blade.

“So, you’re the new guardian of the Verge that Hafotis forged for Derger,” the young man said thoughtfully. “How interesting.”

The god’s name seemed to galvanize him.

“How dare you, a mere mortal slave, say my Master’s name?” He swung his sword, trying to cut the shadow down, but suddenly realized that he couldn’t move. The creature’s eyes opened wide, radiating gold and bewilderment. How could some mortal bind him, the Golden General, with his magic?

“A slave?” The young man came closer to the golden warrior. Compared to him, the short wizard looked like a child. “You say that you have a master, while I don’t have one, so which one of us is the slave, you hunk of junk?” The shadow tapped the warrior’s helmet with his staff. “That was a very dull thud... Maybe Hafotis messed up and instead of giving you a head, he made a chamber pot? Well, at least your cloak is rather beautiful-”

“Ash,” a calm, firm voice made the numerous flowers and trees in the garden stir. “The last time you visited, I was missing a whole bush of Star Flower afterwards. If I lose my General’s head as well, I’ll consider it an insult.”

“An insult?” The wizard drawled. “I’ve known you for a long time, Derger-”

“For a very long time,” the voice interrupted him. The God of War didn’t show himself. “Longer than any other mortal or Immortal. We’ve been calling out to you for a long time, Wizard. You’re more powerful than most of the senior gods.”

The golden warrior’s eyes widened even more. Was his Master really telling the truth? He obviously was. Derger never lied or cheated. The God of War had always been guided by honor. He would never defile himself with the stain of lies or dishonor. So, under the light of Irmaril, there lived a mortal equal in power to the Jasper Emperor himself. The Golden General had only ever heard about this from the ever-bored junior gods. Some of them even boasted that they had personally met and known the wizard during their mortal life.

“I’m afraid that my bad back won’t allow me to climb the stairs to the Seventh Heaven,” the shadow of the young man pointedly grabbed his own back.

“You still can’t forgive us, Ash?” A slight sadness tinged Derger’s voice. “None of us wanted this outcome for you or her.”

The shadow’s fingers tightened on his staff.

“Don’t tempt me, God of War.” Suddenly, the wizard’s voice turned into a bubbling flame hidden inside dormant coals. “Don’t tempt me…”

“Is this how you’ll find your peace, Ash? Maybe if you come up here and turn all your pain and rage against us, it’ll finally give you peace?”

Blue flames swirled around the shadow. It seemed like magic of unprecedented power was about to descend upon the garden and the Palace, but no. The shadow closed his eyes and breathed more evenly. His fingers relaxed, and the flame disappeared.

“The one who will bring me peace is already walking through the mortal lands, Derger.”

“The Last General? I’ve heard those stupid rumors before. The rumors that claim that the prophecy will soon come true.”

“Don’t you believe it, Derger? Don’t you believe the song of the First Tree of Life?”

The voice laughed. It sounded tired, sad, and amused all at once, as if Derger was laughing at some irony that only he understood.

“You’ve lived a long time, Ash. But compared to us, you’re just a youngster. There has always been some kind of prophecy. There has always been a threat. The children of the goddess Danu. The demons. The creatures from beyond the Verge. The Black General. The prophecy... It doesn’t matter. We’ve resisted them all. The throne is intact. Mortals still live in the Mortal Lands, the children of Danu live in the Spirit Lands, and the demons are stuck in the Demon Lands. The world order is indestructible. And so it will be forever. Just like there will always be a war, which means that I am eternal as well.”

“Everything that is visible is not eternal, Derger.”

“Are those the words of the Sage Liao-Feng? It always seemed amazing to me, Ash, that they were the death of the Sage himself, then they were the death of Hu’Chin, the Blue Flame — I always liked that snake — and now they will be yours as well. There’s something very poetic about it.”

They both fell silent. There were so many things that connected the God of War and Ash, but both of them wouldn’t have minded if these ties didn’t exist. They’d hurt each other too often. Sometimes without knowing it, sometimes on purpose.

Without any exaggeration, in terms of the sheer number of problems he’d caused the Seventh Heaven, Ash had almost caught up with the one whom he’d once chained with his own two hands to the Mountain of Skulls — the Black General. However, Ash had never hidden his attitude toward the Seventh Heaven in general and the gods in particular. The left hand of the Jasper Emperor? He didn’t give a damn about this title or what was written in the Book of Thousands.

“I’ve always wondered, Ash,” Derger said suddenly, “Why didn’t you take Darkhan’s side at the end of the Battle of the Heavens and the Earth?”

Ash didn’t reply.

“I was sure that you would accept his arguments, but... you became the one who chained the Black General. Your last friend. I can’t even imagine what it was like for you after that — having to live through these thousands of epochs all alone and-”

“That’s enough, Derger,” the shadow told him wearily. “You can’t provoke me. You know perfectly well that I can destroy half the Seventh Heaven. Your desire to compete with me has already led to several catastrophes and the death of three civilizations. That’s it. I’ve had enough of your shit.”

“A warrior is born to fight, Ash. To fight against the strongest. Don’t blame me for following my essence.”

“Your essence...” The wizard repeated. “Do you know how a human differs from an animal, Derger?”

“I think I’m about to be enlightened by the wisdom of mortals. Go on, Ash, this day can’t possibly get any more boring anyway, so you might as well tell me.”

“A human differs from an animal thanks to their ability to control their animal essence.”

Silence filled the garden for a while.

“What do you mean by that, Wizard?”

“Everything I wanted to say was said,” the shadow replied and then added, “According to the agreement made at the Verge Gates, I, as the strongest mortal, have brought this message to the Seventh Heaven. The Parade will start soon. They are waiting for you there. It doesn’t matter whether you come or not. Your fate has already been written.”

The shadow disappeared, and the Golden General was able to move again.

“What does that mean, Master?” He asked in surprise.

Derger didn’t answer him immediately.

“That I was right, servant,” the god finally said. “We’re going to war soon.”