Legends told of an event. The stars aligning. Every species had their own ideas for what such an event would bring. Fairies believed that their magic would return. Humans feared great destruction. Orcs saw a paradigm shift in the order of the world. Great fortune and blessings. Tidal waves and desolation. Every culture saw portends of a different future.
The one key factor that linked them all together was simple. Change.
No matter what happened, it would change things.
Quaint.
These beings with their limited understanding of the greater universe found it comforting to imagine that distant luminous spheres, impossibly far away, could somehow conspire to influence their mundane affairs. It was as if they believed the universe itself would twist and bend to their personal stories. Little did they realize that the stars cared not for the fleeting dramas of a few species on a small planet.
The Stars, on the other hand, were deeply interested.
Vezta stared up at the fractured, broken sky that only she could see. Like a window cracked by a thrown stone. On the other side, the Stars watched with rapt attention. Tens of millions of bright, watching eyes were forever forbidden to act from beyond that window.
It had shattered long ago, far, far beyond the Calamity. Before even the planes had been populated. Before the Pantheon had formed. The broken sky wasn’t something mortals could ever repair. Even the gods, all working together, would fail. The primordial Stars themselves shattered it to keep all of creation safe, not from outside forces, but from themselves.
But while they couldn’t act, they could whisper. A word here. A nudge there. To those suitably attuned to the machinations of the Stars, they might even manage more.
Priscilla was the only true example Vezta had seen in this era. The dragonoid followed the guidance of the Stars to arrive at Fortress Al-Mir. Why the Stars wanted her here wasn’t something Vezta had cared to divine. Perhaps her role in taking down the avatar at the retaking of Elmshadow had been vital. Perhaps her mere existence spurred Hale on, allowing the young witch to heal Arkk of his lightning-inflicted injuries when she otherwise wouldn’t have been able.
Perhaps she still had a role yet to play.
Vezta had her own tasks.
She wasn’t one who heard whispers or felt nudges. Vezta remembered. She was the largest mass that Xel’atriss, Lock and Key, had managed to pull from the other side of the fractured sky. A fragment—a mere speck—of one of the Stars.
Her gaze drifted from the shattered sky to the bustling life below. The Cursed Forest was a hub of activity these days. A melting pot of intertwined destinies. With the Heart no longer sustaining itself on the forest, plants were slowly returning to the surface. The undead were out tilling soil and cultivating crops, apparently just for the challenge and novelty of it all. Buildings and houses sprung up above ground. Some, especially those refugees who still remained with Fortress Al-Mir, didn’t wish to live their entire lives below ground, away from the light of the sun.
Agnete, Who, and the mechanized engineers from the Anvil were building and building and building, turning the desolate landscape into something resembling a proper city. Soldiers trained in a courtyard, their movements sharp and deliberate as they fought to keep their skills from declining. Merchants bartered in the marketplace, many standing at stalls bearing the logo of the Wolf Trading Company. Word had reached her that the Tetrarchy, Beastman Tribes, and even the Kingdom of Chernlock were sending dignitaries, ambassadors, and representatives.
Cliff was supposed to be the seat of power in Mystakeen. It was there that Arkk redirected most people he didn’t want to deal with, delegating to Katja. He couldn’t send them all away. Some simply stuck around on their own. Yet, while Vezta couldn’t see the future, she could certainly see trends. What Arkk was building here would supplant Cliff one day. If it hadn’t already.
Arkk might not even notice when it happened. He was smart in some ways but oblivious in so many others.
The fond smile on Vezta’s face slipped by as a breeze brushed over her tar-like skin. It wasn’t a natural wind. It carried something in it, something not unpleasant, but something that could easily become unpleasant in a few short years.
Magic.
Fortress Al-Mir’s Heart drained the Cursed Forest of life to sustain itself, drawing in the magic held by the plant life, but the reverse was just as toxic. Too much magic and everything would wither and die. It wouldn’t be isolated to a single forest.
Another breeze blew past, this one just as unnatural as the last. Except, this time, it carried with it a chill. Ice crystals formed on the surface of Vezta’s skin. Her body roiled and smoothed over, returning to normal.
Priscilla, arm and wing returned through a combination of Hale and the Abbey’s inquisitor working to undo whatever magic the Eternal Empress had wrought, touched down on the hill Vezta stood upon. Unlike most who went under Hale’s spells, her body hadn’t come out drastically altered. Though sheets of ice still covered her eyes, she turned her head as if looking out over the city built upon Fortress Al-Mir.
She didn’t speak.
Vezta didn’t have much to say to the dragonoid. She didn’t particularly like her. Priscilla was responsible for the destruction of one of an exceedingly limited number of Hearts. Perhaps if Priscilla had been better, the Calamity could have been undone centuries ago. Then again, despite the ice flaking off her wings, the dragonoid was hot-headed, impulsive, and despised most other species. If she had succeeded, the world might have ended anyway.
“You’re plotting something.”
A multitude of eyes shifted toward the dragonoid. “That sounds like an accusation.”
“Because it is,” Priscilla snapped, turning her eyeless glare on Vezta. “You wouldn’t dare harm Al-Mir or Arkk.”
“No, of course not.”
“But you’re going to do something anyway. Something he won’t like.”
“Arkk is getting distracted,” Vezta said, sweeping most of her gaze back to the burgeoning city. “Every day that passes, a dozen new tasks appear on his list. It has been a year since the Eternal Empress fell. A year since the Golden Order’s avatar perished. A year closer to the end of everything—”
“He’s working on it. He and his witch and that other avatar.”
“At this rate, they won’t succeed. Not in time to save anything.” Vezta turned fully to Priscilla, frowning. “You know this as well, don’t you? What do they say?”
Priscilla lacked eyes. Even if she had them, she wouldn’t see what Vezta could see. Nevertheless, the dragonoid craned her neck, gazing upward. She stayed still, frozen for a long moment, before turning back to Vezta. “The Permafrost doesn’t wish for things to change.”
“Color me surprised that the god of stagnation wants stagnation,” Vezta said in a flat, droll tone.
Priscilla sighed and frowned, her sharp teeth gleaming between her parted lips. “What do we have to do?”
“Do? My dear, I’m already done.”
One more breeze tugged at Vezta. It was just as unnatural as the other winds of the day, except this one carried a power with it. It started small, just a little thing, a small black dot in the middle of the blue, cloudless day. The winds picked up, turning from a light breeze into a gale. Dark, roiling clouds spontaneously formed overhead, blocking the view of the Stars. The small dot grew larger. A void stretched across the sky, below the fractured glass that held back the Stars. It elongated, reaching from horizon to horizon, as a massive violet moon rolled into place.
Priscilla’s wings flared instinctively, a reflexive response. Her body tensed as her mind warred between fight or flight. Vezta, however, remained unmoving, her expression neutral as she watched the unfolding spectacle.
The people down below were beginning to move. Many panicked. Many were nothing more than civilians. Vezta could tell at a glance who had training, who had been part of Company Al-Mir during the war. They didn’t panic. They readied themselves, standing alert and prepared. Some helped the civilians seek cover, others kept their heads on a swivel as they looked for threats.
For many, the void overhead was likely a familiar sight, even if it was a distant memory. Vezta hadn’t seen it herself, having been with Arkk during his audience with Xel’atriss, but she had heard the stories from those who had been on the surface at the time. A void opened up, just like this, with a large violet moon filling the opening as if it were an eye staring down.
“We cannot relax. We cannot find ourselves bogged down by mundane matters.”
“So you’ve called down the boundary god,” Priscilla said, not sounding particularly impressed. The stress on her face and the tension in her muscles betrayed her. “How’d you set that up?”
“With a great deal of preparation and minor modifications to a ritual we once conducted.”
“To what end?”
Vezta didn’t respond straight away, choosing instead to observe. Personnel were teleporting around now, which meant Arkk had taken notice despite likely being far underground. It marked a shift in the reactions of those present. Alma was out organizing people, ensuring everyone got to shelter, while some of the research team were up on the surface. Zullie stood in a prominent spot, a large courtyard between some of the prominent buildings. While her researchers were taking notes and casting spells, Zullie simply stood, trapped and enraptured with the presence above her.
“Over the last year, I had a number of enlightening conversations with Yoho, Agnete, the Protector, yourself, and Lyra Zann. Conversations through which I have reached a rather distressing conclusion,” Vezta said. “The Pantheon does not care. Not like the Stars.” She paused, shifting slightly. “Rather, they can’t care. It isn’t in their nature.
“For the longest time, I felt that the three traitor gods had betrayed the rest of the Pantheon for their own selfish ends. They didn’t. The gods had exceedingly little to do with the situation. Their avatars utilized their powers, true, and the Holy Light was the one who granted the knowledge necessary to enact the Calamity to Lyra’s predecessor, but it was because of the avatars, not the gods.
“The others are much the same,” Vezta continued. “The Protector believes the Cloak of Shadows tried to save the inhabitants of her domain by turning them to shadow, but to any rational being, we see nothing living in those shadows. A failure of the god? No. Just the god acting in accordance with her nature. The Burning Forge is similar, not trying to save the Anvil or its populace, but simply expanding and creating for the sake of expansion.”
Zullie finally turned away from the slit in the sky. Long streaks of black bile ran from her eyeless sockets down to her chin, but she didn’t appear bothered. She moved with purpose, reconvening with the other researchers where she promptly began ordering them about. They began sketching in their notebooks, none of which Vezta could see from her position. Zullie vanished a moment after, teleported away.
A series of lesser servants appeared in her place. They started consuming the large fountain in the center of the courtyard, smoothing it over with stone tiles. Zullie reappeared alongside Arkk and Savren. The latter held a bowl in his hands, the same one Lyra Zann had gifted Arkk back during the war.
“It is incorrect to think of the gods as beings with desires, hopes, wants, or feelings just as it is wrong to think fire desires to burn. A tidal wave doesn’t feel the beach it crushes. A storm doesn’t want to crash down. An earthquake doesn’t hope to shatter the world.
“Any action taken by a god is simply in service of its nature. Take Xel’atriss, Lock and Key, as an example. She could resolve the Calamity in an instant, both the problem that caused the avatars to enact the Calamity and the effects. A barrier between this world and the rest? Barriers are Her concept. No power cobbled together by three avatars of inferior gods could lock Her out.
“But Xel’atriss won’t,” Vezta said. “The Calamity existing is not a threat to Her concept. It simply is. Another wall in a universe of walls. In the same manner, She doesn’t need walls to exist. The Calamity’s absence isn’t any more of a threat than its existence. This does make Her the best god to invoke, for gods, despite their inability to act of their own accord, can be compelled to act. Unlike hurricanes and hailstorms, we can communicate. We’ve seen that with the Holy Light, the Burning Forge, and Xel’atriss Herself.”
“So what?” Priscilla said, “You called her down to convince her to solve the Calamity?”
“Hardly. If Arkk can convince Her, sure, I’ll accept it. She does seem willing to manipulate boundaries if asked, likely, again, because manipulating boundaries doesn’t go against Her concept.” Vezta shook her head and stared upwards, locking eyes with the large moon hanging over the world. “No. This is simply to force action. Any action. Not from the Pantheon, but from people. We’re the ones who will solve this.”
Priscilla blurted out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Seriously? You called down a god just to spook Arkk?”
“When you put it like that…” A sly smile spread across Vezta’s face. “But it isn’t quite so simple—”
Vezta didn’t get a chance to continue. She felt a twisting tug deep within her body, wrenching her through space. Arkk must have finally noticed her watching. In the next moment, she found herself standing face-to-face with the man, teleported in front of him. Priscilla appeared an instant later.
“You’re here. Good,” Arkk said, immediately honing in on Vezta. “Do you know anything about this?”
“The Calamity has crumbled,” Vezta lied easily. “It is only natural that the god of barriers and boundaries would be interested.”
“Impossible.” The basin held by Savren lit up as Lyra spoke with the water lightly bubbling. “Our projections said we would have five more years.”
“Five years before the Calamity crumbled or five years before the growing magic toxicity started affecting crops?” Arkk asked, turning to the basin. “Because when last we spoke, I thought we were talking about the latter.”
“They should be one and the same,” Lyra grumbled.
“It is a shame the god of knowledge doesn’t know everything,” Vezta said, unable to resist. A thousand years of hating the traitor gods didn’t vanish just because it turned out the avatars were the cause of everything.
“Vezta. Lyra,” Arkk said, frowning as he looked between her and the bowl of water. “Back before the Calamity, did things like this happen?”
“No.”
“Not really,” Lyra said. “Not without someone doing something. Usually avatars.”
“But,” Vezta added, “I do remember a time when Xel’atriss first summoned me to this world. To the best of my knowledge, She acted at the behest of the Stars themselves, granting me custodial duties over the Heart that Arkk eventually claimed.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that the Stars summoned Xel’atriss a second time?” Savren asked.
Vezta started to respond, only to wind up interrupted. “I thought you found a cure?” Priscilla said with a curled lip.
“Habit,” Savren said without even looking in the dragonoid’s direction. He waited, expectant, as if Vezta held all the answers in this situation.
She did, technically, but Vezta simply shrugged at Savren’s question. It wasn’t exactly wrong even if it wasn’t exactly right.
It was simply what needed to be done.
“Got it!” Zullie shouted, drawing the collective’s attention toward her. A series of runes floated in the air in front of her—diagnostics from the ritual she and the researchers had been sketching out. “Catastrophic levels of magic are coming into this world from the void overhead,” she said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “I believe it has opened on multiple planes, if not all of them.”
“How do we close it?”
“Actually, I—”
“Zullie,” Arkk said, tone heavy. “We don’t need ideas right now. We need solutions.”
“Then you’re in luck. Because this void is open in all planes, we can test the theory we’ve all been arguing over for the last six months.”
“We are not opening a portal to Hell on a whim. We talked about this. No Hell-portals until we’re positive we can both—.”
“Don’t need to,” Zullie interrupted, pointing a finger upward. “It’s already open.”