Atop the volcano, with the clouds of ash and soot rising behind him, Carcoatl sat on the edge of the mouth, his black robes unmoved by the cold winds of the high sky and the hot exhausts of the earth. In the long history of snail-kin, he only enjoyed this height as he looked over the lands, all under his care, its people going about their daily lives. Funnily, from this perspective, everyone else seemed so slow, moving like snails. A dark breeze moved his robes slightly. His ugly smile fell, the enjoyment gone as a raspy sigh echoed from his black lips. Squarmo's sight showed the enemy had arrived.

"Carcoatl. Do you intend on going against the Primal Council?" The voice of another Primaere, containing the voices of all beings, resounded through the sky, audible only to him. The clouds, the black volcano, the blue sky, they all were stripped of their colors and turned gray. Carcoatl snorted once and dispersed the bleak gray, allowing the world's colors to return. The voice responded louder, "Thousands of years ago, you chose not to intervene. Back off."

"Thousands of years ago, I was not the Primaere I am now. The years may go by, and the name may be forgotten, but somehow the will lives on." Carcoatl said, gasping out the last few words. "I'm old. You're old, too, Kerak. Back then, I was too weak back then, and you were just a pawn." Receiving no response, Carcoatl stood, his hunch not a bother for him to balance on the edge. "I am leaving."

"I can't let you go. Isaac's heir is a sensitive matter that even you alone can't take the reins of." Kerak still refused to show himself.

"Stop prattling on. You're still recovering, aren't you? Looking at the Threads is a risky endeavor. What price did you pay to look in mine?" Carcoatl probed. A cursory glance at a Thread was fine, but to delve deeply into a person's Threads required a huge draw of vitality, an act for which Trigem Primaeres, like him and Kerak, suffered severe consequences. Since the Ancient of Metal masked Oscar's Threads, the vultures of the Primal Council surely had to glimpse into his Threads. "Kerak, you tried to look into his Threads, didn't you? Tell me, what did you see?"

The air shuddered, and Carcoatl stretched his lips into a smile that many would avert their eyes from. "Nothing. Yet he lives. Don't you fear what could manipulate the Threads? It could only be–"

"That's enough," Kerak warned.

Carcoatl didn't care and spoke, "the Ancients or them. I often wonder what side the others of the council are on."

"...we are our own. If our interests align with one or the other, so be it, but we are the masters of Talos. Their time is past."

"But now, the so-called masters are at each others' throats over a boy." Carcoatl coughed and spat out on the volcano's slope. He was tired. He sat back down and stared into the distance, smirking at the empty air, knowing someone was there, a laughable attempt to hide from his senses. "Now that two of you have come out, I must stay." He dusted the soot off his robes and rubbed the large lump on his back, content with keeping the two Primaeres here, entrusting the rest to the others.

…….

Demon stood beside his men, their gazes hardened at the airship that appeared from thin air, its towering figure casting a shadow on their small vessel. The airship, strangely shaped like a spinning top, released white light down through the slits in the layers of its metal hull, spreading a shower of bright rays that gave it what some might describe as a holy aura. The light didn't bother him, but the several presences blatantly letting themselves be known did. Gripping his unsheathed white sword, Demon prepared himself for a sudden ambush.

The metal hull groaned as the hatch on the highest layer opened, and a chill air poured from it as if death awaited beyond. From the darkness in the airship, a woman emerged, wearing a red blouse and blue pants, a pair of glasses that rested on her thin nose and emphasized her hazel pupils. Her short, curly blonde hair swayed to the breeze, glancing at her cheeks. Holding her hair from her eyes, she narrowed her gaze at Squarmo. "The Snail Primaere will not help you here. You are alone here."

"Who are you? I'm sleepy. Can't you go away? I'm not in the mood to fight against a Bicrown King Exalt." Squarmo yawned and sat, leaning his head back lazily. He seemed unbothered by the woman's arrival. Demon couldn't tell the difference between King Exalts, but if the woman was truly a Bicrown King Exalt, then there was no issue.

"I am Naim Lilisa." Naim shifted her focus to the others on the ship, starting with Marcus, who gritted his teeth and fell to his knees, then fixating on him. Erden shifted under his armor, and Demon stared back, the pressure laughable compared to Saul's maliciousness. She raised a brow, seemingly surprised, and chuckled, "So it is you. As the emissary of the Triheaven Elysium, I relay this message to you. My master invites the inheritor to a banquet hosted in his honor."

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'Triheaven….' That name sounded familiar. Searching through his memories, Demon recalled that name, a memory from Oscar's conversation with Avril several decades ago pertaining to the identity of her torturer and former master. So this woman came from that land. He scoffed at the twist of fate to encounter them before meeting up with Avril. Was the natural tugging of Threads too strong?

Naim lost her smile and raised a hand, intensifying the pressure on him, his bones creaking. "To scoff at my master's invitation is the highest of disrespect. The only way to repent is to beg forgiveness in his presence." She misunderstood him.

A loud yawn came from Squarmo, and a burst of Ein broke apart the kingly pressure, riding the air, nearing the enemy airship. Naim grimaced, her brow tensing for the first time. A counterforce erupted from behind, rushing past her and clashing with Squarmo's attack, a fierce storm kicking up and carving the ocean below. Squarmo stood up and floated higher to the elevation of the airship, hands behind his back in a confident posture. "There you are….How long has it been, old Jules?"

"Stop getting my name wrong. It's Julius." An old man, having as many lines of wrinkles as rings in the trunk of an oak tree, came out of the hatch, wearing a blindfold over his shriveled head. He stood no higher than four feet and hunched his way past Naim, his walking stick tapping clearly on the empty air. Behind him, a more imposing presence followed, causing Naim to back away, fear paling her face. The other wore an executioner's mask, soulless eyes staring out from the eerie holes, and ragged gray robes. Julius rubbed the folds of his wrinkles. "Squarmo, relinquish the inheritor. We have no wish to fight."

"Bullish words. Why is he here then?" Squarmo pointed at the executioner. "I can understand Old Jules as a mediator, but there is no need for a Divine Enforcer. How many Primaeres agreed to this?"

"I simply follow the majority will of the council. Anything other than that is inconsequential." Julius tapped his staff rapidly, and more Exalts flew out of the hatch, many emanating the Ein of Marshal Exalts, all having the emblem of three swords. He unfurled a scroll stamped by multiple seals of various Primaeres. "Under the authority of Primaere Kerak and supported by twelve others, the matter of the inheritor will be handled by the Triheaven Elysium with the support of one Divine Enforcer."

"Haha. Like the Forest Heart Clan, you use the Triheaven Elysium now." Squarmo laughed. "Very well. However, per the old laws set forth for the rights of the minority, if we succeed in escaping you, there is no more pursuing him. If you believe in tradition, you will agree."

"Very well. That is the law. Then, feel free to fight to your last breath." Julius snapped his fingers, and the Divine Enforcer vanished, but Squarmo caught him in the air, a few feet from the airship, and tossed him back up. As the two King Exalts fought, their battle thundering across the sky, invisible to all, the main force of the Triheaven Elysium marched down, dozens of Marshal Exalts and Naim.

"Form up!" Demon bellowed, turtling along with Marcus, Kragg, and Santen. Hector and Helen, their two Greater Marshal Exalts, took the helm since they were the only ones to combat the enemy's more powerful foes. However, Demon knew it was hopeless. Rusk Continent was too far away for Squarmo's plan to work. The Bicrown King Exalt, Naim, reached her hand out, no manner of spell or attack deterring her power, simply crushing all opposition in her way. His mind raced faster than his cold heart could beat, funneling through all the options, but none offered a solution against her.

Her power hoisted his body up, an invisible grasp of Ein clenching on his armor, parts breaking off like brittle clay. She smiled and tried to raise her hand when a black feather stabbed into it, the veins around it turning black. Groaning, she let go of him and retreated, pulling the feather out. She squeezed on her arm, repelling the black poison and expelling it from her body, parts of it landing on an unfortunate few who screamed in anguish, their bodies rotting before his eyes.

'So that's how it is.' Demon remarked as the screeches of crows sounded in the distance. Led by Yatscrows, a small flock of giant crows dove toward them, ramming into the enemy. One, in particular, a crow with four wings, cawed loudest and slashed all four into different foes, sending them out of the way.

'Ruvin!' Erden leaped outside, reentered his true form, and roared in the beast tongue. The four-winged crow was Ruvin, the friend from the Lands of Zeret.

'Erden!' Ruvin cawed in cheers. 'I thought we could settle our fight from the Pools of Ascension, but you have drifted far behind.' His feathers spread everywhere, throwing the enemy into disarray as they swarmed them. He lifted his proud beak, showing up to Erden. He was a Greater Marshal Exalt. Riding the crows, several large gorillas lunged for their nearest target, bashing their fists into them.

But why did they come? Demon wondered.

"By the order of the Phoenix Primaere Solara, you are to stand down. Leave, or else this will be your graveyard, humans." A beautiful woman with black hair and black eyes, wearing a dress of black feathers, too low to cover her shoulders and too short to cover most of her thighs, lifted her chin at Naim, clearly looking down on her. "While I despise them, I, Ness, the mother of crows, will not allow you to take them."

'Rejoice. For the Lands of Zeret have come to help!' Ruvin perched on the airship. Demon finally found the way out.