The Worldeater Saga, Part XXIX: The Blessed Child

At dawn’s first light upon the three-hundred-and-fourty-nineth day of the Creators’ Monomachy, Enorian put their plan into action. Intent upon an act of blind faith, the Hammer constructed numerous klaio bronze bells of varying sizes and hauled them to Green Lake and the insidious seal situated beneath its placid depths. There, a tremendous crowd of citizens gathered to give praise to the vital deity of Accordant Water in a sermon led by Grand Crusader Benedicto Silverain. Amidst holy chants and aqueous proselytisation, Aloli, Shachalai, Jhura, Eliadon, Isia, and Ealric infused every bell with elemental water, their sorcery mingling with the raw spirit called upon by Eaku, Rasani, and Emhyra.

As the Hammer amassed this elemental energy, it was Kalena, Inthirath, Elwyn, and Sryaen who rang the largest bronze bell to herald the Child’s liberation. For every peal, each Enorianite called out in gratitude and love for Kaj, stirring the magical power into tangible waves that damaged the seal girding the Child’s prison. The thunderous roar of elementally-infused bells rumbled throughout the realm then, setting Green Lake to a ripple amidst the boisterous din. Empyreal vault and terrestrial stage alike trembled in anticipation, a tension enjoined by masterful elemancy and fervent prayer.

One final clang cut through the air, before silence hung heavy upon Sapience.

Informing Enorian that they had served admirably, Lord Damariel soon urged them to fall back and allow Him to finish their work. He made His way to the prison amidst a brilliant cataclysm of alabaster light that rampaged across the firmament, leaving behind tongues of pallid fire that carved through the sky. So brilliant was His essence that it briefly blot out the Monomachy’s ceaseless, nigh-incomprehensible violence, His haste and conviction bathing the realm in radiant light. As the Lord of Truth descended into the prison, all that could be heard was the tap of His starmetal prosthetic against ancient stone, with nary a word spared for the realm.

Soon, a shimmering tide of light erupted from the caverns leading to Mirth’s clever fabrication, sealing it off from mortal perception as Immortal Truth began His work.

A long, lurid line sliced through the Prime Material’s flimsy fabric soon after and two feral claws reached forth from its other side to tear it open. Moments later, nightmarish Omei emerged from Her Astral domain to stand guard upon the shores of Green Lake, Her tigrish form outlined in a multifarious aura of chromatic might. Hot on the heels of Instinct’s arrival, an incandescent vortex rippled into being above the surface of the lake. Tendrils of smoke and fire spewed from its yawning aperture, a mirage-like shimmer yielding to the massive, Ogrish form of the Inferno. Ethne swiftly took up a position at the Nightmare’s side, barring the way down to the Child’s prison with hammer in hand.

Trouble arrived soon after the two Goddesses took up Their post, heralded by a colossal clamour that escaped the light-scoured depths of Morale’s clever trap. The screech of primordial metal brought to brittle weakness cut above its deafening din as Damariel carried out His task. Soon, a twisting wave of murky shadow fled the prison’s halls, its amorphous mass braiding together into a vaguely humanoid being on the edge of light and dark. Riotous chaos and gleeful trickery coursed through its strange form, boundless enthusiasm taking it across the lake in leaps and playful jumps. Unwilling to allow such madness to go free within Sapience, the Unbound called for Sapience to handle this tricksome menace lest Attica suffer catastrophe.

As the battle unfolded, adventurers found themselves tossed throughout the land by magical currents and plunged into mortal peril by chaotic trickery. Those unfortunate enough to meet the trickster’s might upon the field found themselves the punchline of a cruel joke, though this comedy-turned-tragedy was not enough to deter the hordes of staunch defenders that flooded the Green Lake’s shores with sword and spell at the ready.

As the tricksome menace finally fell, Varyan Celestine’s supporters took to the field in hopes of foiling Enorian’s plan.

Grim susurrations drifted throughout the realm as the Underking stepped forth from His halls. The wails of countless anguished souls heralded Dhar’s arrival upon the embattled shores of Green Lake, His imposing form looming tall in opposition of Ethne and Omei. Sonorous chanting drifted from the hallowed earth soon after, and the hills around Green Lake and Attica sang the praises of unyielding Ivoln, Conqueror of Azvosh and Earthen Father. The soil broke apart to allow His ingress into the Prime, His cruel gaze settled upon the pair of Siblings that would dare bar His warpath.

In an echo of long-abandoned unity, the Lord of the Grave and the Master of War marched forth in lockstep, Immortal magic emanating from Their silhouettes in palpable, stomach-churning waves of lethal dread.

Omei lifted a feral claw and issued a threatening hiss, Her raw essence bolstered by glimmering sparks of warm colour. She moved to instinctual music heard only within Her Immortal veins as She joined battle with Dhar, pure Chaos manifest as floating armaments, conniving traps, and protective shields that complimented Her savage assault. Where Chaotic essence sprang up, however, the charnel inevitability of the Underking denied it with little more than a brief motion. Dhar’s ephemeral silhouette eluded Omei’s rancour, His every chilling step sowing freezing fog through the air. Hazy outlines of combative souls seethed within these emergent mists, bespeaking Death’s impending stratagem.

As Death sought to put an end to Instinct, Ivoln settled His sights upon Ethne. Earth Incarnate closed the distance with lumbering strides, His fists raised in a flurry of Divine brutality. He fell upon the Firemaiden with barbarous intent, scoring blow after blow as She struggled to raise Her hammer in defence. As the two elemental Gods struggled physically, Their essence battled as rampaging whorls of ochre and ruby energy. Jagged rock and searing conflagration met in rapid collisions all throughout the battlefield, leaving behind smouldering heaps of rubble, rivers of dangerous lava, and burning, rocky spires as the proof of Their calamitous potential.

Ghastly outlines arose from Dhar’s mists and closed their hoary hands upon Omei’s feline form. Wheresoever they tore essence from Her bristling aura, riotous colour bled forth to replace it, Her staunch defiance manifesting more layers of chromatic protection that streaked forth from the four corners of the continent. Alike to a maestro orchestrating the crescendo of His magnum opus, Dhar lifted His arms to direct the flow of His fatal reach. More figures emerged then, too many for Immortal Instinct to repel even with Her newly anchored might.

A savage scream escaped Omei’s throat as She swore vengeance, Her ire upon full display as She thrashed within the gelid press of militant souls. Dhar drew nearer to His fallen Sister in spite of Her cries, His every step granted the weight of justice and finality in spite of His ethereal form.

“Your end has come, Lurli. It is inevitable,” the Underking pronounced, His tone as icy as the graves of His dominion.

Sensing Her Sister’s danger, the Inferno wheeled around to try and interfere. Though She managed to manifest a series of fireballs which screeched through the air towards the Underking, they passed through Him as a breeze might through an open window. Unwilling to leave Omei to Her fate, Ethne took one leaping stride forward before callous Ivoln waylaid Her, Her pace stopped cold by a brutal punch that connected with Her Ogrish jaw and sent Her sprawling.

Immortal Earth looms over His toppled opponent, His hands conjoined into one primitive, boulder-encased fist that He heaved above His head in preparation for the murderous work ahead. “The strong prevail,” Ivoln insisted to Mebrene, “and the weak are remade by the earth.”

Before They could strike Their final blows, however, the groan of some ancient mechanism’s final failure rolled across Sapience like unto crashing thunder. With this thunder as its herald, an apocryphal flood spewed forth from the newly breached prison beneath Green Lake. More water than could possibly be contained in such a narrow physical space surged forth, threatening to overflow the lake’s concave dimensions and destroy Attica.

Sapience shuddered as the blessed Child finally found freedom, His flailing whiskers carving a deep gouge into the southern edge of Green Lake.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 25th of Chakros, in the year 512 MA.