Interlude 2
The gods gathered, a common occurrence these days, on the top of Skycrest, the one place considered neutral by all.
At the peak of the highest mountain, a human would see nothing but clouds below them, but the gods saw so much more than that.
Blue skies above, and war below, they lounged atop the one place in all Nyth, they could be themselves.
While the war that raged across Nyth has taken lives numbering in the hundreds of thousands, the ones who began the conflict were unaffected by it.
Godhoods are a strange thing; each of the beings sitting atop Skycrest held one godhood save Lysara, who held two.
They are thoughts, beliefs, and power given some semblance of consciousness.
Their concerns are limited to three things: survival, the acquisition of power, and following their specific purpose.
The godhood of endings yearned to see some piece of the world end, thus when Lysara became the Goddess of Death, she was driven to watch the threads of humanity be cut.
Each time this happened, she gained a small amount of power, and the godhood’s hunger was sated.
But on any typical day, each of the gods was less controlled by its godhood. Even gods seek diversion when there is nothing of importance to worry over. This war between their champions has provided that diversion for almost eighty years.
“I’ll wager two villages of humans on my borders that Echo wins this one,” Nyxthos said.
He wore his cloak over his head, even here amongst his equals.
Only his face was visible from beneath it.
A silver goblet filled with human blood, an offering made by his Mages, was in his hand as he leaned over the edge of the peak to watch the battle.
Draeven stepped up beside him and laughed.
The god was obviously once a great soldier, standing far taller than his companions.
Chains hung from his body, bloody and rusted, and at his hip was an empty scabbard, where his sword, Mournfang, had hung until he’d gifted it to Azric during his birthright ceremony.
“No one can challenge the Prince of Bones on the field of battle. You know this, Nyxthos. I’ll accept your wager. My Chained will drain your humans of their life force to forge new blades and armor.”
“And if she wins?” the cloaked god asked.
“I’ll offer the city of Stonecross. Two thousand people live there along with several ironwights who work the forges. I am very confident that the young prince will be victorious on this day.”
Nyxthos smiled at the warrior god. “Accepted. I’m sure my Mages will enjoy your slaves’ screams.”
All the gods turned to watch as Echo led an army of Mages, demons, and human foot soldiers against Azric’s army of the Undying. Echo rode the black dragon Vyran, and Azric was atop Inni, the smallest of the dragons still on Nyth.
Their entertainment ended abruptly as they all turned to face one of three gods who never came to Skycrest—Saelira.
She was small even compared to humans. Her ghostly white hair hung below her veil, which was closer to a shroud than anything worn to a wedding.
A mist-like gossamer gown obscured her body while her veil hid her face.
The only one who’d ever seen her face was the Prince of Bones when he was presented to the gods.
Everyone knows who and what she is, even humans. The Goddess of Destiny. “I have come to offer a warning. The ones we fear will be here soon. The true war comes before we expected, and with it will come something which has only happened once.”
She turned to Lysara, and all the gods remembered the day she killed her husband Eldrin, the first God of Death, and stole his godhood and world. “The day the ones who seek our power arrive on Nyth, one of us will die.”
There was a moment of shocked silence. Caeldra and several others recognized the moment for what it was.
A true silence occurs when the path of the world shifts, a changing of destinies.
If Saelira had not come, had not told them her prophecy, things might have been different.
These moments alter the path forward, and Caeldra, being the Goddess of Silences and Shatterings, sees them most clearly.
All but she and Saelira exploded in fear and anger. It was an expected result, but it came not from the gods. No, in this moment, their godhoods sought, as always, self-preservation.
“Who will die?” the Godhood of Bonds demanded.
“Is this prophecy changeable?” the Godhood of Balance begged.
“When exactly will this happen?” the Godhood of Beginnings questioned.
But it’s the Godhood of Change, Caeldra’s godhood, which answered rather than Saelira.
“This does not differ from any other prophecy. You know what must happen to change things. But if we alter the path forward, it is likely that more than one of us will perish. We could all be ended if I change things incorrectly.”
The Godhood of Endings snarled. “Well, I will not stick around to be murdered. I’ll let the rest of you be the sacrificial lambs. My world is far more difficult to find than Nyth.”
One by one, most of the other godhoods left until Saelira, Caeldra, Nyxthos, and Draeven stood alone atop Skycrest. They were silent as they stared at each other, none of them knowing what to say.
Until Nyxthos fell to his knees, pain radiating through his body for the first time in tens of thousands of years. He let out a scream that made the ground tremble in Draenyth.
He knew exactly what had happened. His champion Echo had been killed, and with her death, all the power that he had infused in her had been lost. He looked up at his fellow gods, but he didn’t say a word. They knew, just as well as he did, what had happened.
Saelira, her words as difficult to hold on to as the wind in autumn, said softly, “It has begun. The falling. We will not be ready when they come. I do not know for certain, but I do not think we will win this. Not if we stay on the path that lies before us.”
Caeldra looked to Draeven and Nyxthos before disappearing. Knowing, more than anyone else, how difficult it would be to choose the correct time to alter the path forward, she had to remain present on Nyth.
Draeven nodded to Nyxthos and disappeared to begin preparations for the war. He, at least, would not run from the battle that was coming.
Nyxthos could not run either, for he was without a champion now, and so when he disappeared, he left to create a plan for how to move forward.
It was only when all the other gods were gone that the two children snuck out from the rock they’d hidden behind and approached Saelira. An emerald-green snake slithered beside the little boy, and a bluebird flitted around his twin.
“Ah, so you were there all along.” Saelira’s solemn tone was replaced by a bit of whimsy.
“Yeah, we heard what you told them,” the boy said, “but you didn’t tell them everything, did you? We know when grownups are hiding things.”
The little girl continued where her brother had stopped. “You want them to do something, don’t you?”
Saelira smiled. “I don’t want them to do anything, and they won’t.” She walked to the edge of Skycrest and looked over the edge to see the battle that still raged hundreds of miles from them. “They’re afraid. But you’re not, are you?”
“We ain’t afraid of nothin’,” the little boy said. “Not you or them or the bastards coming to murder us.”
“Taldor!” the girl said. “You can’t say bastards to her. She’s old and doesn’t want to hear words like that. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“It’s fine, Veris. They are bastards,” Saelira said. “There is a way that things can change, but neither I nor the rest of the gods can change them. You two, though, might.”
“What do we need to do?” Veris asked, moving toward Saelira. “We don’t want the bastards coming here.”
“They’ll come, but there’s a chance that we won’t lose. The paths diverge,” she said. “You both know of the prophecy I gave Azric Cyrus at his birthright ceremony, don’t you?”
Taldor sighed, looking annoyed. “Course we know. Everybody knows, but it’s not really a prophecy, is it? You don’t say what will happen. Just what might. Seems kind of shady to me.”
Veris nodded in agreement. “Definitely seems shady.”
“This boy will be the one who decides the fate of Nyth. His decisions will shape her future. He will be the first of many Riders. He will hold all the powers of the High Fae as his mother once did, but he will do it naturally. Gods will step aside when he walks. The enemy shall tremble at his blade. And still, his decisions are uncertain. He will either be your savior or your destruction.”
“Yeah, yeah. We told you we remembered it. Why you gotta repeat it?” the boy asked.
Saelira turned to him, and like a grandmother would tell her grandson, she shook a finger at him. “You know what the boy went through. You know his heart, don’t you?”
Taldor gave her a squinty look. “The hag hurt him. A lot. So what? All the humans and Godforged got hurt.”
Veris turned from her brother to Saelira, a questioning look on her face. “Yeah. Why’s he so special?”
“Because he’s the one who’s going to change things, little ones. If his heart isn’t in it, if his soul doesn’t yearn for Nyth’s salvation, then why would he make the hard choices that will lead to it being saved?”
“So we’ve gotta fix his heart?” Veris asked.
“Or find someone who can…”