The Mists swirled around the divine as they stepped out of Eiran and into the realm of the AllFather. Of all of the gods, Simjen alone knew this shapeless realm, and even so, the Mists were ever-changing, carrying with them winds of possibilities and breezes of what-ifs. Shapes seemed to move around the deities, but the Mists shielded them even from divine sight; at times it felt as if a surreal theater play took place around the gods of Eiran as they searched, in that timeless realm, for the AllFather himself. Echoes of noises long past seemed to come back through the Mists, voices once silenced and words once spoken returning at last to those who first heard them.
“MASTER!” A forlorn voice calls from a distant place.
"Come! Allyria. Rakastaa. Alek. Celebi. Zephyr. Tamarisk. Prudence. Anathar. All my people! All my Satyrs!” Says a voice rimmed with love.
“You confuse me. You believe the loss of the Herzwald is a sacrifice greater than your own life?? You ask forgiveness??”
"Simjen is not dead, my Lady… ere I was cast out of Eiran I saw the World Breaker trapping him into a fiery gem - a gem from which he will draw Simjen's own power until our Lord is free!"
The voices grow more concerned, as if times and spaces were colliding.
“And if I fall, and fall I might for Eiran now is a very unsafe place and powers untold are lifting thier heads, you will enter the Sapphire of Jove that you buried in the forest and be with me.”
“Entering the mists is out of the question. The risk is unacceptable, and certain safeguards may be in place...
“So...the AllFather denies us. Very well. I suggested him only that we may rest assured that the DRP we give will be used as intended.”“My followers: you have stayed with me through the fights. Through the changes. Through the good AND the bad.”
“I am always amazed by how mortals may reach conclusions or discover truths that even the gods cannot see or understand.” "Behold that NONE may stand against me!" “We go to bring the light of Maeror, of Life and Death, of Healing, to a people who stand under threat. We go to bring them the means to resist this blight.” “If I still had my prophet…”
“Argothoth, what have you done?”
Then suddenly, silence reigned in the eternal realm of the Mists. Something moved ahead – a cowled shape barely visible through the thick fog that enshrouds it. It was one Simjen alone had seen once before – and the gods knew that their quest was coming to an end.
One among the gods stood before the others – one who had been chosen, or perhaps had chosen himself to lead. The blood of three Ages of gods ran through his veins, the voice of the Forests of the world.
“Allfather,
I am Zephyr Bhakti, God of Forests. I speak for the pantheon of the Third Age of Eiran. Yes, you know these things, but you are the Allfather, so a degree of formality and respect is appropriate.” Zephyr said, giving a stern look to the embodiment of decadence.
“As you can see - as you can feel - Eiran is being destroyed. I don't speak of the battles between deities of this pantheon. Petty squabbles may cause different types of damage, but they do not threaten the world itself. The Bleeds, however, do. The reality of the Bleeds is being imposed onto the reality of Eiran. This power violates all laws of the world of Eiran.
“Combined, we of the pantheon encompass many domains. Some to greater degree, some to lesser. And we possess different understandings, different wisdoms, different knowledge. We have learned little of the Bleeds' power, or how to stop it. We try, and, perhaps, slow things down to the smallest degree. But we cannot be sure of accomplishing anything. Eiran may well be entirely overwritten as we try to hold it together with our bare hands.
“You, however encompass all domains; all of them to the absolute degree. And you possess all understanding, wisdom, and knowledge; all of them in all fullness. You have the ability to stop the Bleeds; to reverse the damage, restoring Eiran to its beauty and health.
“And of much greater importance, you have the ability to seal Eiran from their power permanently. The World Breaker has used this power to violate Eiran in two Ages now. We are as helpless against it now as my parents were.
“But you are not. Please, Allfather, stop this. Take whatever power you need from any and all of us. If more than power is required, whether as a matter of balance or as a sacrifice, all I have and all I am is offered. Strip me of my divinity. Strip me of my identity. Take my life. Entirely unmake me. Anything I can give to save my home I give gladly.“
The AllFather – if such was indeed the figure before the gods – stood silent and unmoving, as if waiting; quietly, the Lady of Light stepped forward, eyes cast down respectfully.
“Greetings, AllFather.
“I thank you for this audience.
“I would say I let Zephyr speak for me, but in one point I disagree with him. If his wisdom proves greater than mine once again, I beg you disregard these words. But should my Light prove wise for once, I ask you weigh these thoughts of mine in your considerations.
“We are the Eirani Pantheon of the Third Age. It is OUR duty to protect our followers and their home, not to ask you to intervene. You brought our world in to being and then wisely stepped back to allow us to do with it as we will. In Light of the plight we now find ourselves in, it is obvious some of us made selfish, harmful decisions. It is our responsibility to right them.
“I come not before you to ask you to rectify the problems we can not solve. But I plead for your guidance on how WE can rectify them. The mortals suffer more and more while we fail in our efforts.
“Allow US to Heal our world and give it a reBirth in this Age. Let US be the force of your guidance. EnLighten US on how to rectify the harm that has been done and set US free to proceed.
“If none of our pleas turn you towards helping us, permit us to return home and to continue to fight the good fight as best we can.”
And as O-gon-cho stepped back among her fellow gods, it was the battle-bloodied form of the Red God which strove forward.
“Hail All Father. I stand before you as the Lord of Battle. Yet all our strength is as nothing before the calamities you heap on Erian. Even together so many of us cannot oppose them.
“With all these others, I offer myself to protect the lives and Souls of my faithful. Only the All Father can right these wrongs. Therefore I offer my strength that they may be undone.”
He had merely finished speaking when a newborn god, the lord of fortune-seekers, spoke in turn.
“Lord of Eiran, Leader of we Gods,
“As others have said before me, we ask that you save Eiran from the Bleeds, and from the World Breaker who uses them as a source of power. Whilst I would prefer to return, so as to continue to enable my adventurers to avoid the deathly grip of monotony without causing harm to others, I will accept that such may not be possible. However, I must insist that either you save the world yourself, as Zephyr asks, or give us the means and knowledge to do so, as O-gon-cho has requested, so that my followers may remain alive and adventuresome in a world that is both habitable and exciting. Without your intervention, we shall inevitably lose to these Bleeds and the other forces seeking to destroy the world, and without a world to support them, adventurers cannot adventure.
“All I truly request is that the world be saved so that our followers may continue to live the lives they choose. I would prefer for the Gods to be allowed to remain, so that the world remains as exciting as only active divinities can make it, but I would rather we be blocked for all eternity and our followers allowed to live on a world that has been saved from destruction by another reality, than to remain and watch the entirety of Eiran be destroyed despite the combined efforts of all of the Pantheon.
“Father of All, I await your judgement.”
And still, the AllFather – if it was truly him in the Mists – stood silently, unmoving, until from amidst the gods, Madadeva walked forth, a defiant look in his face.
“You have failed! And have fallen. The sadness is you may not even know it ... or why. But I have tasted your power. In my memory of the taste of your sentinel raven, I can now recall destruction and chaos! Can even you be immune to the Omega? I certainly know the infection of Chaos and Destruction. It has led to my form now. While you are more powerful than I was (or am), are even you immune to its touch? Perhaps between the ages, your exposure to the Omega has been undermining your commitment to your Creation. Making you ripe for madness! And Mox, a minor deity in the cosmic firmament, but a bearer of madness: a world builder you may be, but even the largest and most powerful can sometimes be infected but the most small. Perhaps madness now accelerates your taint.
“Repair this world and then leave - or give your power to one or many who will repair it and then leave. Your creation no longer needs you, and in fact is harmed by your presence.
“If you do not, you will face our combined might. I have grown fond of battles. Perhaps I have absorbed some of the desire of my friend uKulwa. WAR against you will be a delightful experience!! Perhaps Halideva and I will combine - forge something greater than us individually and greater in fact than our former self! It would be interesting to see! *chuckles* Perhaps even the Alpha and Omega will empower our strength, amused as they will be at seeing us put you in your place!!
“What say you Creator of Eiran? What say you, failed overGod!!?”
The gods stood and beheld Madadeva’s defiance before the shrouded form of the AllFather. And yet, still no other voice pierced the silence of the Mists, until an old god stepped forward, a burning flame in his eyes.
“I have been assured that it is not for some pathetic reason to attack or in any other way confront you. No, I want to lay my hammer down before you. I feel my life's work is complete. I submit to your will and humbly ask that you do for Eiran what I could not. It is my wish to retire, joining my wife and son before the hearth in the great hall beyond.”
And as Simjen withdrew, an evanescent figure stepped from among the gods, until it stood before them all, facing the AllFather.
"I am not Anaya. I am not the Grey Goddess. I am not the hand and the heart of Fate. Though I may stand here now in her semblance, I am not she. Instead, I am all that has made her divine - all her power and might and majesty - and she has divested herself of me."
"You are the One, whom these others speak of as the All-Father, and you gave to Anaya a gift seemingly wonderful. You lifted her out of the mire of mortality and gave her strength and purpose. Yet she has discovered, as did her mother before her, that there is no joy in your gift. It made her a Goddess, but only that she might also be a scape-goat, that the Fate of Eiran would rest upon her shoulders rather than upon yours."
"Do not misunderstand - Anaya is grateful for the gift you have given her. Grateful for the chance to save the world we all love. However, she has proved incapable of completing such a task, as have all who stand behind me, and she believes that this outcome was precisely the outcome that you foresaw. Therefore she has chosen to return the gift - return the divinity - to you, and thus I am here. She would have you use me as you see fit - save Eiran, or stand aside while the World-Breaker destroys it, or lift your hand and destroy it yourself. Whatever path you choose, it is our path and yours alone, and the consequences of your choice will be yours to bare. Not hers, for she is a Goddess no longer."
"She has taken her daughter, her Prophet, and the Children of Fate, and with all her worshippers following behind she has gone to the Arc. Whether they live or die, let it be on your head."
Silence stretched as the Mists boiled around the gods, and yet no one spoke. All the gods waited, now, for the AllFather’s judgment.
“You are the children of Eiran. All of you, from lesser to greater. Behold! You are as broken as the world of your birth; the gods struggle like children as the world falls around them, and endless lives are sacrificed on the altar of self-aggrandizement.”
The Mists cleared behind the gods, and the AllFather’s shape motioned for them to turn. There they beheld terrible armies of undead marching amidst the desolation of Noptae, as the nebulous form of the God of Death watched grimly from his eternal realm, aided by the God of Undeath whose power ravaged Bel’s followers; they saw with horror the full manifestation of the shrouded God of Peace, seeking the Arc and gathering the power of oblivion in his hands. They beheld the Jester of Madness stepping into the Bleed, not reluctantly or frightened of what would be within, but arms opened in greeting to the burning darkness within.
“Even in the darkest of times, when doom treads Eiran’s paths and hope is quickly fading, there are those among you who will choose to satisfy themselves, even if the cost is the world. And all the while, it is mortals who bleed. It is mortals who suffer, and it is mortals who die. But mortals were never your pawns. They were your wards – and the measure of your godhood.
“You come to me in search of a boon. You come to me as a sacrifice. You come to me as a challenger. You come desiring rest.
“Once, not long ago, the Jester stood before me and begged for his father’s release. I beheld the world and saw it divided, shattered, and I knew that the world would be destroyed whether the World Breaker rose or not. The gods, with their petty hatreds, their despite, their wrath, their thirst for blood and sacrifice, would see to that. And so I fulfilled the Jester’s prayer. All things must die in their proper time – mortals, gods, even worlds. Even so, I gave the gods the chance to avert disaster. I hoped – yes, I hoped – that faced with the danger of the World Breaker, the gods would realize their true role in the world – wardens, not rulers. Defenders, not exploiters. Servants, not kings.
“But I was disappointed. Some of you rose to the challenge; others sank under the weight of their corruption. And now you stand before me, while behind you, Eiran burns by the hand not of the World Breaker, but that of your own kin.
“All things die, and such is Eiran’s fate. Yet I honor the bravery and the commitment you have shown to the world, the sacrifice you are willing to make for the survival of your people.
“Behold! The World Breaker shall destroy Eiran in one year. Know that it is within your power to avert this disaster, and it has been all along. Ask the right questions, follow your hearts, listen to the power that sings within you, learn from those who have transcended, unite, and you will triumph. Fail, struggle, fight among yourselves and Eiran will know its doom.
“There are those of you who know the secret I speak of. There are those who feel it in their hearts. Moxinomal knows it and embraces it – and therein a new World Breaker might be born. Look to the words of mortals, for they may be wiser than the gods. Defeat the World Breaker, and Eiran shall live. The world shall be mended, and all shall be made right. I will make of Eiran a paradise on earth.
“But know this: because there are those of you who will never stop until Eiran is destroyed or bows before their will, I also give you one year. If you succeed in averting Eiran’s death, one year from now I shall cast my Mists upon the world for the final time, and the gods will have one final choice to make. We shall speak of that choice when the time comes.
“Use well the time you have been given. Listen to all that you have known, and understand that you do not need my assistance. Within you is all that is needed to save the world – within the realm of Eiran, not as a sacrifice before me. I need no sacrifices. Ensure that Eiran does not become one.”
A blink of an eye, a tendril of Mist was all it took – and the gods once again stood on the edge of the Mists, before they could answer…