Chapter 733 (Patreon)

Chapter 1 of Book 10!
Enjoy!


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In the city of Amaranth, faith had fallen.

The Pathless was dead.

Chaos gripped the bastion of order in claws of fear. Fire bloomed among the districts, spreading in golden waves from fallen Priests as their connection to the Pathless was severed. Inquisitors were laid out upon thoroughfares and boulevards, stunned beyond ability to speak. The populace, without a direct connection to their god but gripped by a nameless panic, could only watch the chaos unfold. Paladins ran to put out the flames, forced to bash the citizenry out of their way, only to drive that panic ever higher. Riots began, spreading faster than the fires ever could

From atop the Altar of Light, the Hierophant watched it all unfold—for the first time unsure of her next move.

We are forsaken… She clutched her alabaster staff and the Tier XII material creaked beneath her Strength. Pathless, you fool.

Screams swelled from below, dragging her attention away from the Altar. The crowds stilled, their hands thrust up into the air as if to ward off an invisible blow, while others pointed in slack-jawed terror. She spun, turning her gaze into the sky just as the world around her dimmed.

A black disc slipped across the sun, terrifying in its size, casting a shadow upon the Continent that dulled even the majesty of the Shining Palace. It blotted out the daylight, replacing it with a tenebrous twilight that struck a chill into the Hierophant’s heart. As the shadow fell upon the Altar, the stone beneath her feet rumbled and frost spread across its polished surface. She stomped her foot, releasing a wave of heat that blasted the cold away. Still, the stone quivered so sharply that cracks split across the immaculate inlay—all the way to the Altar itself.

The carved font broke, shattered into two pieces with a final burst of vibration. The Hierophant winced, clutching at her head as her Aspects trembled. Her core space screamed in pain, but she flared Skills.

Order of the Light!

Golden whorls looped across her core space, filling the soaring tower within her with binding light. Tremors savaged her center, but she held. Though blood ran from her eyes like tears, no Skill was sundered.

The same could not be said for her people.

Harrowing screams filled the ten thousand chambers of the Shining Palace. The Three Orders convulsed as one, their core spaces under direct assault. Fear and pain built, as if she sat atop a swelling wave that threatened to carry her out to sea.

Order of the Light! Mass Enforcement!

Her Skill flared, spreading from her chest and down the pristine robes of her office until the shadows boiled away from her. Her Skill spread, blooming until it encompassed the Altar of Light, then the chambers below, the Shining Palace itself. The faithful straightened as she stopped their core spaces from sundering completely.

Farther!

Her power spread as she flared Mass Enforcement, catching the twelve towers and then the streets beyond. The golden wave of her Will spread outward, over mansions and inns, through markets and residences, until all of Amaranth was covered by her indelible grasp.

Farther! To the ends of empire!

Golden power, now visible to even the lowest Untempered, roared through the countryside. Bolstered by her Will and shaped by her Intent, it flew as an arrow from the greatest of archers, high and true, until it reached the very edge of her Territory. There it foundered, her power becoming nothing more than heated wind beyond the borders of her immediate Authority. With a desperate gasp, she cut it off.

She could not save everyone.

Skills and cores within her Territory threatened to shatter but her Authority stood tall. It denied dissolution, a bulwark against the unraveling Light. She held onto the faithful as the ramifications of the Pathless’ death rippled through all of her people…and subsided.

Order of Light is level 170!

Mass Enforcement is level 166!

She fell to her knees upon the top of the alabaster tower, blood streaming from her eyes and ears and onto the splintered floor. Her core flickered, its power guttering for only a moment before it stabilized.

All those beyond this city, she prayed, may you survive this tribulation.

The Pathless’ death affected all who tied themselves to His power, and she was no different. Worse, in many ways. The Hierophant considered her hand, still smooth with youth despite her great age, and a swift terror set her heart to pounding. Her nails slowly yellowed and the skin across the back of her hand withered.

My foundations… She didn't have much time. Leaning heavily on her staff, the Hierophant pushed back onto her feet—only to find the Altar and the Obelisk beyond it glowing with power.

She froze. It was not the golden light of her god as she half-hoped, but a collection of metallic blue-greens and sickening bronzes all contained by silvered-shadows. The air hummed, resonating as the power struck the tower and was reflected into the twelve spires around them as the dark sun burned across the sky.

Hierophant.

The words were not from a singular voice, but a woven tapestry of many that she could only pick out thanks to centuries of study and worship. The Twins. Yyero. Noctis. Siva.

The gods had arrived.

The fabric of the Realm split as if by a brutal hand, and the light coalesced into foggy silhouettes that towered above the Altar. The metallic blue-green formed into a pair of figures almost indistinguishable from one another, their limbs and even their shadowed facial features combined in an amalgamated attempt at Humanity. The foul bronze hardened into the harsh angles of a looming corpse, a predator bent over its own crooked limbs as it considered all that was beneath it. Silver and white beams stretched, landing like foggy impressions upon an obscured mirror, until they formed into a woman holding glittering threads with innumerable hands. Last, but no less intense, was the darkest night that folded around a matronly woman that seemed almost mortal…were it not for the collapsing cavity that replaced her face. The Void yawned there, as hungry as it was empty, and it ate up the thrumming song of the tower around them until only silence remained.

The Hierophant could not help but shudder.

Be Not Afraid, said the Twins in their eerie double-voice.

“I do not fear you,” she said, but could not deny the weakness in her knees. The Light within her shook.

You Do, said Yyero. His voice was like spoiled cream, sour and thick. We Can Hear It.

We Do Not Care, Noctis said, her dark tone smooth as polished glass.

The Hierophant looked between the spectral figures before her, each easily twenty spans tall and all of them radiating a pressure that threatened to break her Mind. “How have you come here? Your chains—”

Are Loosened, said Siva. Her words were like chimes rustled by a colorless wind. Our Brother Is Dead, And We Seek Retribution.

Loosened? That statement nearly unmade her then and there, but she held it tight within her Spirit. “How did the Pathless die?”

Felix Nevarre.

Bondbreaker.

Two voices spoke at once, but it was not the Twins. The Hierophant’s head snapped back from the sheer vehemence from Noctis, but her boiling shadow was nothing compared to the silvered malice of Siva’s four unblinking eyes. Their anger was a brutal, staccato sonata that beat at the air around them.

It was almost enough to hide their lies.

“Nevarre. The Unbound Autarch of Nagast,” she said slowly.

Now King Of Pax’Vrell, the Twins told her. As Well As Ahkestria And The Hoarfrost Itself.

Yes. The Boy Has Grown Powerful, Yyero said. Too Powerful For An Abomination.

The Hierophant ground her teeth. It had been a mistake ignoring his little rebellion months prior, but all she had known was that he was an eager upstart in a backwards region not even part of an official Territory. His initial claim had been the least of her worries. “If he has grown strong enough to kill the god of Order and Light itself, then why have none of you intervened? You stand here, shadows perhaps but exuding power enough to destroy me where I stand…yet you’ve done nothing to him. Why?”

You Dare To Question Our Motives, Child?

“Who else will?” she managed through the spike of pain Yyero’s toxic ire caused her.

Calm, Brother, the Twins said. Turning their misshapen face to her, they blinked, one eye at a time. Our Power Waxes Fuller Only Now, Child Of Light. Our Chains Have Weakened.

A dread thrill poured down the Hierophant’s spine only to pool within her gut like icy lead. “How?”

She knew of the chains that bound the gods, consequences of their mysterious transgressions long ago. The Pathless did not—could not—reveal the why of things to her, but He had explained that His siblings were beyond reach of even a Divine’s might.

With The Pathless’ Death, Many Things Became Clear To Us, they said, and she couldn’t tell which Divine spoke. Still, Our Chains Are Loosened, Not Vanished. For That…We Would Like To Speak To You, Child Of Light.

“If your own godly might cannot break your prisons, how could I?”

Cease The False Modesty, Yyero hissed. We Know Of Your Plans. We Know You Summoned The Ruin.

“I—”

Summoned The Unbound, Too, Noctis said. Vessels Primed For The Divine. A Clever Plot That Could Not Have Come From Our Brother’s Mind.

The Hierophant opened her mouth once more, but she found herself unable to move her jaw at all.

Cease Your Dissembling. The Divine See All.

Fear Not, Child Of Light. We Are Not Displeased At The Ruin’s Return, Siva said calmly. The Continent No Longer Knows Its Place. Balance Is Required.

Through the split in the Altar, the sound of a distant storm crashed and crimson light filtered in. Noctis gestured, and shadow occluded the light. Be Calm, Dearest. This Must Be.

Yyero snickered. Not All Are Pleased.

Vellus Has Not Yet Earned Back Her Place, the Twins cut in. Her Displeasure Matters Not.

Discord and lies, just as you said, Pathless. The pressure vanished from her face, and the Hierophant wiped blood from her cheeks. “Yes. We summoned the Ruin, and the Unbound to use as Vessels for the Pathless. Yet neither could end your imprisonment, not unless you allowed the Ruin to turn upon yourselves.”

Yyero laughed again and it was a spike of pain into her Spirit. Conceal And Deny. So Much Like Our Brother.

The god of pestilence snapped his many fingers, and the very air seemed to tear. Beneath the dark sun, the central tower of the Shining Palace rang out in sympathy—not damaged in any way, but like the tines of a tuning fork. The song of violence rose up, splitting the air above the sharpened prongs of the tower until deep chasms of nothing stretched above them.

The Twins gestured, and the song cut short. The sky sealed itself once more. En’Cridhe. The Star Of Heaven, they said. A Potent Tool That Can Be Used To Amplify Power. A Creation Of The Accursed Nym.

She clenched her jaw. “Reclaimed for Humanity.”

Defaced And Repurposed, Noctis pointed out. With The Pathless’ Shrine Moved Atop Its Focal Point. A Clever Design…One That, With The Correct Circumstances, Could Be Used To Challenge That Which We Cannot Touch.

“Your chains.”

Yes.

“How do I break them?”

A pleased thrum rolled through all of the gods present, but they did not answer. She raised an eyebrow. “You cannot tell me?”

Ouranic Law Prevents Us. But…We Wish To Aid Your Endeavors.

Aid my— The thought remained unfinished as another split in the world opened up only strides away…and a giant woman in broken armor stepped through it. “Imara.” The Hierophant frowned in distaste as the Unbound collapsed in a heap on the cracked ground. “What have you done to her?”

Improved Her.

She ran her senses over the fallen warrior. There were a few obvious injuries, but none were even remotely life-threatening. Instead, Imara’s core space was what concerned the Hierophant, and as she delved deeper she found something almost repugnant within her chest. She recoiled. “What is this? Her core is—”

Bound To Us. Sworn To Our Service, As A Shared Vessel. Noctis gestured and Imara’s eyes snapped open. She Will Suffice Until We’ve Our Own To Wear.

The immense Unbound sat up and met the Hierophant’s gaze. Her eyes shifted through a myriad of colors—black, silver, blue, and bronze—before settling onto a mundane hazel. “Hie–Hierophant?”

The words were hesitant and full of a weary fear that struck her harder than the gods’ anger. Imara may have been filled with the power of the Divine, but she was more aware than ever before. The Hierophant swallowed. “Child.”

Imara ran a hand through her hair, but froze as her Perception caught upon the looming presences behind her. She stood, rising to face the gods. “You.”

Awake At Last, Noctis said, and those she had no face at all, the Hierophant could have sworn the goddess was smiling. You Recall Your Oaths, Vessel?

Imara’s head jerked into something resembling a nod. “I do.”

She Will Aid You, Child Of Light, And Together You Will Break Our Chains.

The Twins twitched, their clustered shoulders convulsing. This World Hastens Toward Ruin. There Is Little Time. You Will Save Us…And Your Chosen People Will Be Sheltered In Our Hands.

A Favor To Our Lost Brother, Siva added.

The Hierophant swallowed. The possibility of her original plan—her purpose—being fulfilled was heady enough that she leaned against her alabaster staff. Can it still work? She looked up, beyond the gods, into the shadowed disc that blotted out the sun. Distantly, her people still screamed as riots took the streets. Will they stand in my way?

Do Not Think Too Long, Child, Yyero said with a skeletal grin. Jagged teeth stuck out from too many angles. And Think Not Of Betrayal.

Massive, cold hands clasped onto the Hierophant’s neck, and she sucked in a surprised breath. “Imara?”

Her one-time servant did not respond except to tighten her brutal grip.

Else Our Vessel Will Rip Your Head From Your Shoulders.

The sky lightened as the disc of shadow slid from the sun, releasing its rays back onto the Continent as the air boomed. The hole in the world was gone, sealed shut once more above the ruins of the Pathless’ Shrine.

The gods were gone.

“Take your hands from my neck, Unbound,” she demanded. There was a horrible pause, but the enormous woman released her. “Now step back.”

Imara did so, taking a full stride backward as the Hierophant turned to consider the woman. “You’ve regained your Mind.”

The warrior grimaced. “I have.”

“Yet you are still bound to my word?”

“No.” Imara clenched her hands. “I’m Oathbound to the gods now. So long as your Wills are joined, however, there isn’t much difference.”

The Hierophant kept her expression carefully neutral, for all that she wished to sneer at the heavens. “They gave you no choice.”

“As much choice as you gave me.”

“Hmph.” She turned toward the edge of the tower and looked back over her city. Chaos still unfurled in the streets, and the fires had grown. “You were a useful weapon, Imara. I would wield you again.”

She could hear the reluctance bubble up in the woman, the defiance. It was kept masterfully quiet. “What…would you have me do?”

“Quell the riots. Bring order to my city once again, by whatever means necessary.”

Imara stepped up to the edge beside her and glared out into the warren of structures far below. “And then?”

“And then we begin the real work.”