Echoes of Power, Part XVI: The Onset of Revolution

With the vast majority of their preparations already accomplished, there yet lay before the Theocracy a handful of loose ends to tie together for the maximum chance at success. Foremost before them was the formation of the newest Chaos Lord to find a place among the Labyrinthine Court, a task that would be crucial during their planned ritual to ascend a mortal briefly toward Divinity’s glass ceiling.

The melded minds of the Spireans worked together, forming a collective will that saw the shard of Chaos they had claimed grow in size and power until it was fit to burst with the many manies and individuals that fattened it like a holiday roast pig. Utilising this gathered power as a resource to further empower Labyrinthine’s Court, memories were offered toward finding and growing a magically adept Lord. There is little information available to the Grand Library to describe how this newest member of the court would take shape at this time, or which memory was selected.

Even as last-minute preparations were made, checklists were checked, and furious rewrites of planned questions were made to ensure the best possible outcome, a quiet murmuring began to take shape within the myriad villages of Sapience. Whispers carried from one member to the next of a name – a new name, a new god – and it swiftly found the hearts of some who were looking for a change in their life’s course. Across Craneskull and the streets of Rimewatch, within Moghedu’s tunnels and Salma’s ruins, and even among those betrayed within the Impire, a singular thread spread: revolution.

Those who felt most strongly about this ideal found themselves herded towards the Labyrinth’s Grasp, amassing in throngs before the fivefold sabledark pillars. A commonality was shared between them as they began to worship this idea, and the name whispered into their ear as the source of its truest meaning. By the dozens did they arrive, filling an already cramped space further and further as they stood shoulder to shoulder to acknowledge this greater purpose than the mundane task they had been completing previously. When at the height of this worship, more than two hundred individuals were in attendance as the barest nugget of mortal faith.

Joining the great mass of extremely varied worshippers offering their presence and momentary faith was a procession of Theocrats, each prepared to enact a ritual planned and prepared for weeks on end by the ruling council. Prisoners from the Ironmaw were likewise brought forth, sentenced to sacrificial death for a purpose far beyond the meagre magics they’d been imprisoned for. Dhasan Csethiro laid the stage, setting down a sigil of a crown and a labyrinth of elemental ice to catch the offered blood and direct it toward the centre of the landmark and its waiting recipient. Hearts plucked from Duirani chests and kept whole and hale by the Hunter’s bidding were passed out to those who would partake.

Ready for a bout of comeuppance for a long-unpaid debt in the form of violent assault, the Warlord strode into the archaeological dig site with a faint rumble, the storm of His virtue charging the air around Him with a yearning desire for a fight. Wordless was the Son of Autumn, His gaze that of a soldier’s trained outlook – ever searching for signs of an enemy sure to come – how could She not, He thought to Himself, for it was Her domain that these Divine usurpers dared to trespass within.

As dusk claimed the land and the sun began to set, Regent Legyn delivered a sermon about the Theocracy’s purpose. It spoke at length of revolts, barriers, boundaries, and the demand for a solution that presented itself here and now. Corruption’s Adherent grazed one of the pillars as it spoke, its very surface rumbling faintly in response at the barest touch with promises of untold waiting power, ready to be utilised. Continuing, the aptly named Prophet of Ascension laid bare the five pillars of the revolution – Discontent, Vision, Propaganda, Sacrifice, and Reformation. All of its words culminated in the naming of this new virtue, of this manufactured God: Iredryn, the Unbidden Ascendant.

The words of the Ghost of Chakrasul’s sermon echoed strangely before the empowered landmark of the Labyrinth’s Grasp, as each word resonated within the quintet pillars that clutched at the air. What followed the opening sermon was a procession of death. One by one, a shackled mage was brought forth and slain, and over this body was a heart crushed. The offerings congealed together within the prepared arrangements, flowing downward to the centre.

Legyn laid low a wizened Arborean treesinger and crushed the heart of Duiran’s Killing Voice, Yesufa Button.

Csethiro slit the throat of an ancient Satyr ritualist of Vintal’s Glade and crushed the heart of Edhain.

Sanei took out a prodigious Human planar physicist of Arbothia and crushed the heart of Sekeres.

Oridez snapped the neck of a prodigious Arqeshi elemancer of Jaru and crushed the heart of Haleth.

Pietre snuffed the life from a seasoned Djeirani battlemage of El’Jazira and crushed the heart of Lin.

Wulei executed a wizened Dwarf runesmith of Tainhelm and crushed the heart of Mayah.

Sepyhie plucked the heart from a prodigious Rajamala shadowbinder of Kornar and crushed the heart of Cadet.

Ulo choked the life out of a venerable Arqeshi planar physicist of Jaru and crushed the heart of Robyn.

Tina beheaded a venerable faerie shaman of Vintal’s Glade and crushed the heart of Dellingr.

Barimoth brought Perdition’s flames to wipe out a learned Human blood mage of the Vilimo Estate and crushed the heart of Draeven.

Bazias slit the throat of a seasoned Dwarf mage of Tainhelm and crushed the heart of Ashyn.

Solen electrocuted a prodigious Arborean shaman of Cantor’s Copse and crushed the heart of Arista.

Each of these offerings, each of these sacrifices, found a response in kind from one singular individual – the focus of the ritual, the centrepiece upon which the entire process hinged its success or failure. At the centre of everything stood Sheryni Nebre’seir, answering the dramatically proffered questions relating to the revolution and how it might be enacted. It was at her pace that the others ran, always awaiting her acknowledgement before moving forward with the next offering.

It once more returned to the Regent of the Spires; it that had given the first would also now offer the last. Utilising a ritual athame, the Adherent slew the last mage brought forth, a seasoned Arborean green mage of Cantor’s Copse, and crushed the heart of Rihara. It was the end of thirteen hearts and thirteen passages; it was the last defiant offering and the force that ignited the ritual to a frenzy. Spilt blood hissed against the enchanted ice below, carving steaming, crimson rivulets that raced eagerly towards the destined centre, leaving glowing trails of ritualistic power in their wake.

The Warlord seethed nearby – where was His foe? The citadel of Spinesreach, His once and ancient home, had drawn Him to this place with the promise of a fight. The storm of His fury escalated as He waited, seconds drawing into minutes, without a word from the Mauve Mistress of Memory.

Raising her fist high, Sheryni declared that they would rise in their revolt and reform the world together. Turning that fist to command the blood pooled in offering before her, the thrice-skilled hematurgist supped upon the sacrifices with a gleaming hunger in her eyes. A singular thought shone within her mind in the moment: I am Iredryn. We are Iredryn. We are Revolution Incarnate.

It was then that a blinding vortex of raw chaos, constellar energy, and sacrificial power erupted around the Viceroy’s form. The five fingers that comprised the Labyrinth’s Grasp flared to life, intricate patterns upon their surfaces which shone with extraplanar brilliance, all while a sonorous groan escaped the earth below, and the dig site trembled visibly.

Reality parted above the Siroccian mountains, the very fabric of the Prime Material Plane’s skein ripped asunder by the forces of the Theocracy’s shard of Chaos, jagged icemetal towers and nightshard alleyways visible to the naked eye beyond the borders. Phantom limbs escaped its boundaries, questing along the mountain chain and into the skies, before turning downward and out of sight. Each of these ghoulish arms twisted to overlay with the landmark of power, imbuing it again and again with the connection that would be necessary to channel the wellspring found within.

It was mere seconds before Viceroy Nebre’seir was plucked into the air, suspended without visible support, and made a lightshow of terrible chaos energy that irradiated her mortal shell. Each heartbeat that passed brought with it a new unravelling before the gathered masses’ eyes, the layers of mortality sloughing away to reveal skin, muscle, and bone, until there was nothing left but bare essence within a cradling grip of chaotic radiance.

Though as of yet fully formed, the presence of the newly-formed mage Lord of Labyrinthine asserted itself then to work as an effable hand playacting as Creator; though surgically precise, the work done by this being was that of Chaos entity, not Divinity. Even still it toiled, folding boundless cosmic power into the parts of the soul meant for far more graceful hands, each weaving of supernal power only bringing about ceaseless and unimaginable agony for the Glacian.

The gathered members of the Theocracy looked on with anticipation, glee, hopea and with an unearthly scream that broke the hushed silence, brilliant cosmic energy flooded forth from the Labyrinth’s Grasp to clutch Sheryni’s very soul within its ghastly grip. Compressing and crushing her, the cavern flooded with brightfire ephemera for but a single moment before fading as a stream of raw Chaos surged forth to obliterate her…

…and a moment later there arose a new Virtue of the age, Revolution’s Unbidden Ascendant appearing amidst a cindercloud of riotous ash and a broken crown of topaz and ice. The very presence within the land stirred hearts to motion, workers and artisans alike choosing in the moment to revolt against those who kept them downtrodden. Unwilling to lose the fleeting opportunity to bask in the brilliance that must be felt by such deities lavishing in the experiential offerings of mortals embracing Their aspects, Iredryn disappeared within the leylines upon a long-planned heist.

Only mere seconds passed between Their ascension, disappearance into the ley, and subsequent reappearance. What transpired in these few seconds is unknown to the Grand Library at this time, though we can only presume it was spent scouring the Source of Knowledge for the designation ‘M’ previously selected. When They did surface once more, it was clear that They could not continue to hold this false form of Godhood.

Limping as They strode back towards Tarissa’s Dig Site, the bounty of cosmic power that had fueled Their brief sojourn into the ranks of the Divine visibly dwindled with each passing second. It is unknown just how They finally ended, and what knowledge, if any, was retained from this experience.

One final act, a brief encore the likes of which could only be brought about by such an outpouring of energy and chaotic instability, was claimed by the landmark that day. Seizing what it could of the surroundings by choice or otherwise, the landmark sundered the area wholesale. Grand Library scholars versed in the workings of Chaos theorise that the physical connections to the Prime were broken, and what was the dig site now lies somewhere in the depths of the Sea of Chaos.

As a chunk of the Prime sank into formless primordium, a sharp quill dragged along the flesh of someone’s back…

~~~

Summary: Spinesreach created a mage for their Chaos court, spread word of Iredryn and Revolution through persuasion, sacrificed mages and crushed magically-kept hearts in a ritual to empower Sheryni to Godhood for an unknown mission within the leylines and the Source of Knowledge.

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 13th of Ios, in the year 12 AC.