What is the meaning of fate? Is there some supernatural force, which governs how wars are won and lost, why some heroes prevail while others resign to tragedy? What fuels the spirit, spurs us into action, lends us strength when all seems lost? The truth sidesteps these questions, for matters of fate are both far simpler, yet far more intricate than we can possibly imagine.

A thought experiment: Eliphaz, seated within the hut of the old witch, harkens to the bells of the forest. The Nephilim has come, and the choice must be made whether to fight or flee. Out of duty, out of love, and out of the sense of his own inferiority, Eliphaz makes that choice.

Or does he?

Were we to reverse the flow of time, allow Eliphaz to relive the moment of realization, of decision—his choice would remain the same. Not that he doesn’t choose (for choose he must), but as long as Eliphaz remains the same, his choice does as well.

Fate doesn’t make that choice, it simply observes it alongside every other, a great sea of connected moments that shimmer like the wings of a butterfly. Every action begets its proper reaction, to pluck the words from a future philosopher.

To truly understand fate is to see it as a great, living being, its body stretched across all of space and time. For a god seeking to alter its course, it is the matter of finding a weak point, a small, insignificant moment somewhere within this intricate web of cause and effect, the hidden crux upon which the wheel of the future will turn. Nudge it ever so slightly, and watch as fate begins to shift.

Such moments are easy to miss. To mortals they are rarely more than half-forgotten memories, already relegated to the past. Only at the point of convergence does fate bind these moments together, the past combining with the present to forge the future. The truth is laid bare for all to see, and what was once thought impossible is made inevitable—history.

For Eliphaz, there is no longer time for such ruminations. Time has run its course, the pieces of fate already set in place. Yet we watch closely, for though the future may be determined (and it certainly is!), what surprises still lie hidden in its indeterminate wings? Where is the crux, the detail upon which fate will change its course?

—

Out of the hut they emerged, once again surrounded by decaying forest. Eliphaz watched as Besset made swift preparations, fetching his spears and strapping them to his back, a shortsword and shield held loosely at his side.

In the darkness Eliphaz couldn’t quite make out the commander’s expression. The moon lay hidden, the only light coming from behind the shadows that danced across the man’s face, the psychedelic effect of the incense persisting beyond the world of the den. He imagined Besset’s face as stoic in the face of adversity, preferring to believe that at least one of them wasn’t terrified by what awaited them.

Like a beacon in the distance, the bells resounded, a shriek of wind that blew through the trees. It wasn’t loud—but incessant and grating, gnawing at Eliphaz’s mind until he could think of nothing else.

“The sound, does it point in the right direction?” Besset asked, gesturing away from the hut, back into trees from which they had come.

Narina nodded. She looked weak, something heavy weighing on her shoulders.

“What else can you tell?” Besset pressed. “Does it know we’re coming?”

“No, but it senses...something,” Narina said, struggling to match words to her thoughts. “It’s just awoken, the world is still blurry...but it has found a scent, maybe our scent, from earlier. It will find us eventually.”

“Then we have no time to waste. Eliphaz, are you ready?”

Eliphaz nodded. He didn’t speak, not trusting his voice to form a coherent sentence. His thoughts were a mess, a jumble of feelings that clashed at every turn.

Run, he thought, run while you still can, run like you did from Jakob, from Father, from every responsibility the gods ever bestowed upon you.

But this time he couldn't. Not with Narina and Besset ready to walk towards death with such certainty. In the desert he had succumbed to despair, but not now. He breathed in slowly, trying to clear his mind. Peace, he thought, may I be at peace with whatever happens.

Peace never came.

They went into the woods, Besset leading the way with his spear raised, Narina and Eliphaz trailing in his footsteps. They stepped over sunken logs, parting sheets of moss as they passed. The earth grew damp, their feet sinking into muck that tugged at their shoes with every step.

The forest was nearly pitch-black, were it not for the shadows that clung to the trees, their silver outlines curving across the bark. They were entering an older grove, Eliphaz noticed, the trunks they passed were wider than any man, great columns of shadow that towered into the night sky. In the darkness above, the bells rang, louder than before.

Without warning, Narina let out a gasp, before clamping her mouth shut. Besset reacted instantly, extending his arm backward to stop their movements.

The commander looked at Narina, but the girl said nothing. Her gaze remained fixed at the darkness up ahead.

Eliphaz followed her eyes, peering into the black. It took him a second for his eyes to adjust before the trees became apparent through the criss-crossing shadows, the ruffles of silver indicating the floor vegetation when—

There was something else there, marked by those now-familiar silver lines. But they weren’t shadows, Eliphaz realized. These lines didn’t waver, but remained fixed to its dark body, rising and falling ever so slowly. He could make out a torso, wide but sunken, with two slender limbs that hung at its side. It was a figure hidden within the grove. Were it not for the subtle swaying of the trees, Eliphaz would never have noticed it

Still several hundred paces away, he could tell the creature was tall, its small, bowed head nearly reaching the lowest branches of the fir trees. It looked almost human, though its back was unnaturally hunched and its legs appeared to bend at multiple points, even as it loomed over them.

Was this the Nephilim? Eliphaz felt his pulse quicken, yet a certain clarity returned to his mind. The creature seemed calm, standing perfectly still. Perhaps it wished for death, and had simply been waiting for their arrival. Could it be so easy?

“Narina, what do you see?” Besset’s whisper was cautious and quiet, barely audible over the bells that rang above them, shaking with some unearthly force. The urgency of the question revealed that the commander too had found the Nephilim. What he asked was whether the girl’s seer ability had activated, revealing any stats that could be used to their advantage.

She shook her head. “We need to get closer.”

Besset nodded, not wasting further words. He brought a finger to his lips before continuing, this time moving laterally so as to carefully approach their target’s position.

They passed from tree to tree, clinging behind the shadowed forms to catch their nervous breaths. Every squelch of earth, every scratch of skeletal branch set Eliphaz on edge, fearing it would betray their movements. Instinctively, he reached into his spirit, expanding his consciousness into the ground. His range surprised him, easily extending at least a hundred paces, almost tantalizingly close to the creature, which stood as still as before.

Having reached the safety of a new copse of trees, Narina placed a cautious hand on Besset’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop.

She waited for them both to turn toward her, before with a wave of her hand, a blue screen flashed in front of their eyes.

Nephilim,

"spawn of Dânêl"

[awakened] Level 88 Experience 104̷̥̑̏8̴̳͒7̷̹̈́͋/1̵͍̠̦̰͈͓͕͋̀͗̕͝0̷̨͚͔̠̋̈́0̷͕̼̞̥́̔͠צ̵̼̱̼̂͜͠ͅי̵̛͉̓́̇͂̀̕פ̸͇̀͜ר̵̰͙͆ͅ HP 91/91 MP 12̶̢̗́5̸̲̞͇͓̾̄̆/1̸̠̼̆מ̶̥͖͐א̶̆͂͋͜א̸̬̫̝̃ SP 31/31 Strength 21 Stamina 43 Agility 67 Spirit 1̶̛͖̒͒3̶̰͕͓̠̗̋̅ר̸̧͒̋ ̴̜͓̹͗́͂̓͘4̸̛̛͔̔͌

“What about the abilities?” Besset asked.

Narina sighed before another screen appeared.

Abilities

Burst of Êzêqḛ̵̂͌ề̶̢̢̻́v̷͍͚͇͍̫̄ȓ̶͙ê̵̺̠̱̇ê̴̠̤̼̎̈́̓͘ȩ̷͙̥͓͚̱̂̋̓̉̉̔͘q̴̡̻̔̂͝q̶͕̟̗̑̈̍͘͝͠ G̵ˆ̵r̷â̶n̷t̷s̴ ť̶̥̥̌ḫ̶̣̋e̴͍̽ û̸̦̮̝̐͆̊͆̿s̷̭̹͚̤͔̟͙̔́̈́̓̾͊̀̃͘͠ȩ̵̻̟̲̤̤̂̅̃̋ȩ̸̥̖̂̇̏̀̿͋ę̶͇̬̬͇̣̤̂̓̎̍͠͠ל̵̡̢̟͎̯͙͚͌͋͜ͅ ´𐰉e pܘ𐰒𐰒R¨¨ ê̸̯̹ק̵̧̲͕̟͛͆͒͗י̵̥͉̬̈̂͆̅͠א̴̢̛͗̈ל̴̡͔̪̙̯̊͒̐̒ז̵͉̳̪̝̮͑̅‎̵̪̓͐̾̔ ל̶̖̚ sâ𐰤𐰞𐰞 1̷͕̔0̸̢̌0̸̥̄0̸͙̈́ 𐰢10008 ˙̶͈́e̴͚͋ ⸲𐰭 ⸲ ⸲𐰭𐰭 ˙̴͈͆ṿ̴͆r̷̢̆ê̴̳̈́ê̷͖̄ê̶̼̌q̷̺̀q̸͚̉ ܚܚ 99...

Eliphaz’s heart sank as he scrolled through indecipherable text. They had no idea what the thing was capable of, any understanding lying far beyond their grasp. But what choice did they have but to carry on, and hope that their attempt would be enough?

Besset looked at him, eyes illuminated by the barest glint of white. The commander appeared calm, at peace with whatever the gods had in store. He nodded slowly. Are you ready? he seemed to say.

Eliphaz returned the gesture. They left Narina behind the trees, her work was done. That was the plan. Just follow the plan, he thought, as he monitored his breath. That was the most he could do.

Again, Besset led the way, heading straight toward where the creature stood, spear raised over his head. From Eliphaz’s vantage point, he couldn’t see their destination, relying on his spiritual sense to feel his way through the earth, noting the roots of trees and plants in their path.

His head thrummed with anticipation, the rush of blood drowning out the sound of the bells, the groaning of the trees and wind. In the stillness he counted their steps.

It didn’t take long before it all changed. Barely fifty steps in, the wind whipped around Eliphaz’s face. He felt the gust barrel upward, into the canopies above. The bells resounded in response, a screeching louder than before, a razor of sound that threatened to burst his eardrums. He reached to cover his ears, only for the noise to culminate in an explosive pop followed by a shower of clay shards and dust that fell into his hair.

Before him, Besset tensed, gripping his spear tightly.

“We’ve been noticed,” he muttered.

Peering out from behind the commander’s shield, Eliphaz could see the dark, silver-lined creature begin to move. It shambled across the ground, its twisted limbs bending forward and backward, yet slowly gaining speed. It moved without a sound, its arms swiping vegetation to the side as it leapt forward like a feral dog.

Eliphaz could begin to make out the finer details of its shape. The creature’s skin was thick and wrinkled, clinging to its frame like a corpse. There were no eyes on its skull, but Eliphaz saw the fine mist of its mouth, which panted with exertion.

In the air above, the bells continued to scream as they shattered in the wind.

Focus. Do as we planned.

Time seemed to slow, each second passing painfully as Eliphaz waited. He felt helpless as the hulking form of the Nephilim approached.

Then—shockwaves resounded into the earth, the force of the monster’s legs pummeling the ground. The sensation lit Eliphaz’s mind like a fire.

It was within range.

He responded without thinking, three vines bursting out of the earth, twisting around the Nephilim as they fought against its momentum.

Mana: 18/30 Core Strength!

The Nephilim let out a soundless snarl of breath as it fought against the fortified vines. It struggled with a strength that Eliphaz didn’t expect from its frail form and average stats. Perhaps it was somehow using magic?

Besset didn’t waste a second. Lowering his spear, he burst forward with the activation of his skill. To Eliphaz it seemed he traveled ten paces in an instant. It would be only moments before he would reach his target, and hopefully inflict the fatal damage.

Eliphaz felt his grip loosen on their quarry. Not wishing to risk their position, he called forth three more vines, tightening their hold with thorns that dug into the creature’s scant flesh.

Mana low! 6/30 points remain

There was a throatless scream, a harsh hissing sound that made Eliphaz’s blood run cold, but otherwise the Nephilim did not break through. Its silver-lined skin was gouged, and now the coiled tendrils dripped with white ichor, shining with an otherworldly glow.

In fact, the lines etched in the skin of the creature now seemed to emit a dull light.

There was no time to think. Besset was upon the creature, and raising his right hand he shoved his spear forward, into a space between the vines where the Nephilim’s flesh lay exposed. Plunging the bronze tip as far as he could, he twisted the weapon, inflicting as much damage as possible.

Glowing blood sputtered out, running in straight lines down the spear’s shaft before it coated the commander’s white-knuckled hands.

Critical hit! 61/91 hit points remaining

Besset pulled the spear back, preparing to attack again. As he lunged forward, the silver light across the Nephilim’s skin suddenly brightened ten-fold.

Hundred-fold.

So bright, Eliphaz could hardly look on. It was like a sun had formed in the middle of the forest, the darkness transformed into vibrant colors before the heat burnt everything into black char.

The skin of the Nephilim burst outward, but not in the manner of an explosion. No, it was as if the light from within superseded the skin of the creature, as if both were of the same form. It was an utter transformation, yet to the mind it seemed like nothing had changed at all.

Eliphaz fell to the ground, desperately rolling away from the Nephilim as he felt a shock wave of heat hit him. The hair on his arms singed instantly, his skin screaming with pain. Finding his way to the nearest tree, he nestled himself within the roots as the light passed. He heard the wood snap and crack as it fought against the burning heat.

His eyes were closed, but the sight of the Nephilim’s light refused to leave his mind. It had been seared into his brain, a bright, burning orb so strong that even still it felt like he was staring into the black pit of its absence.

The heat passed. Eliphaz opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness. The shadowed forest returned, though the site looked bare. The undergrowth was gone, the branches had lost their needles and leaves. Even the ground beneath him was cracked and dry.

A knot rose in his stomach as he turned to look past the shelter of the tree. He dreaded what he would see, but he had to know. His life depended on it.

Beyond him lay the heart of the blast zone. There was hardly an indication that the area had ever been a forest, only the hint of some tree stumps remained, dotting an otherwise empty plane of black dust.

Besset was gone. No sign of the commander remained: no weapons or shield, no bronze-plated armor or tatters of cloth. The light had erased him, swallowed him whole, transmuted his body into the incorporeal.

Only the Nephilim remained, back in its shriveled black body, unscathed except for the wound beneath its chest that dribbled with blood. It stood motionless for a second, still coursing with silver light, before turning to face Eliphaz with its shrunken, faceless head.

Again it screamed its voiceless scream. The scream of someone whose throat, body, and mind has withered away long ago. Yet it refuses to die, spurned by the immortal light from within, bound to a hunger that will consume everything in its path.

It had no choice in the matter. The will of the light was all that it was.