Interlude 1

My unicorn horn wand trembled in my grip as I raised it high. The familiar weight of enchanted ivory anchored me against the terror crawling up my spine. Words of power spilled from my lips, each syllable sharp and precise.

"Ignis torrens!"

Three explosive flames erupted from my wand's tip, streaking through the air like miniature comets. They struck the nearest Veloth Raptor's emerald scales with thunderous cracks. The beast's flesh hissed and bubbled where the fire kissed it, releasing wisps of acrid smoke that stung my nostrils. Yet the creature barely flinched. Its yellow eyes remained fixed on me with predatory hunger.

The marble floor beneath their clawed feet sang a deadly rhythm as both raptors charged. Each talon strike against the polished stone sent echoes bouncing off the palace walls like war drums announcing my doom.

Ice magic came next. The incantation flowed from my tongue like a frozen river breaking its dam.

"Glacies telum multiplicatus!"

Crystalline shards materialized in the air before me, each one sharp enough to pierce armor. They whistled forward with lethal precision. The lead raptor's throat met one shard head-on. Blood sprayed across the marble in a crimson arc as the creature stumbled, gurgling wetly through its severed windpipe before collapsing in a heap of twitching scales.

But the second raptor proved more cunning. It leaped skyward with impossible grace, soaring over my icy barrage like a dancer avoiding puddles. Time slowed as those terrible claws descended toward my face. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my legs had turned to stone.

A thunderclap split the air.

Lightning tore through the palace chamber, striking the airborne raptor mid-leap. The creature's body convulsed as electricity coursed through it, then crashed lifeless against the far wall with a sickening thud.

Careless, child.

Lady Ayen's voice echoed within my skull, and carried the weight of divine disappointment. Her singular eye fixed upon me from across the chamber, that massive blue iris swirling with otherworldly power. The tendrils that served as her fingers crackled with residual lightning.

"Forgive me, my lady." I bowed deeply, heat flooding my cheeks. "It won't happen again."

See that it doesn't. A god cannot afford such hesitation.

Her words cut deeper than any blade. Here I stood in one of Ayen's countless palaces, surrounded by opulence that would make mortal kings weep with envy. Tapestries woven from starlight adorned the walls. Fountains sang with liquid silver instead of water. All of this splendor existed solely to forge me into something greater than what I was.

Level 75. The numbers glowed in my mind's eye like a promise. Twenty-five more levels until the godseed within my chest would crack open like an egg. Twenty-five levels until I shed this mortal shell and claimed my place among the divine.

Unbidden, Vardin's face surfaced in my memory. The God of Machinery had smiled even as my blade pierced his heart. Blood had trickled from his lips when he whispered those damning words.

"I don't blame you for this, child. You do what you must."

I crushed the memory before it could take root. Vardin had conspired with enemies of the gods. He'd chosen his path, just as I'd chosen mine. His death was justice, nothing more.

"Ready for the next wave?" Ayen's tendrils writhed with anticipation.

"Yes, my lady."

New monsters began materializing from thin air. Shadow wolves with eyes like burning coals. Stone gargoyles that moved with surprising speed despite their bulk. Each one summoned specifically to test my limits, to push me closer to that golden threshold of level 100.

I thought of my people back in Morne. Elves dying before they reached thirty, their lives snuffed out, a curse by time against my people. Children who would never see their parents grow old. Parents forced to bury their young.

Once I ascended to godhood, I would have the power to break that curse. No more would elf mothers weep over cradles that would soon become graves. No more would my people live each day knowing death stalked them like a hungry wolf.

The shadow wolves howled as they charged.

I raised my wand again, power coursing through my veins like liquid fire. For my people. For redemption. For a future where elves could live full lives instead of brief, flickering candles in the wind.

Magic erupted from my wand like a tempest unleashed. The unicorn horn grew warm against my palm as I channeled power through its crystalline core. Lightning crackled between my fingers before lashing out at the shadow wolves. Their forms dissolved into wisps of darkness, their dying howls echoing through the marble chamber like funeral bells.

The stone gargoyles proved more resilient. Their granite hides deflected my first barrage of ice shards, sending frozen fragments scattering across the polished floor. But I pressed forward, weaving fire and lightning together in a deadly dance. Molten cracks spread across their bodies as my flames found purchase, then electricity surged through those fractures like veins of liquid death. One by one, they crumbled to dust.

The silence that followed felt heavy with expectation. My chest heaved as I lowered my wand, sweat beading along my forehead despite the palace's eternal coolness.

Better.

Lady Ayen's mental voice carried the faintest hint of approval, though her tone remained as distant as starlight. Her massive eye regarded me with something that might have been satisfaction, though with a goddess whose face consisted entirely of that singular orb, reading expressions proved challenging.

Before she could summon the next wave of creatures, Ayen's form went rigid. Her eye tilted upward, that deep blue iris swirling as if watching something far above the vaulted ceiling. The tendrils that served as her fingers ceased their constant crackling, falling still for the first time since I'd arrived.

This wasn't unusual. Throughout my training, I'd witnessed these moments when the goddess seemed to listen to voices only she could hear. Divine communication, I assumed. Some esoteric method by which the gods spoke to one another across impossible distances. Once I ascended, once the godseed cracked open within my chest, I too would possess such abilities.

The thought sent a thrill through my exhausted limbs.

Ayen's attention snapped back to me with sudden intensity.

Your training ends here. A meeting has been called.

I blinked, confusion replacing anticipation. "My lady?"

You will accompany me. Make yourself presentable.

My eyes widened until they felt ready to pop from my skull. "Is such a thing... acceptable? I am no god yet."

Laughter bubbled up from somewhere within Ayen's being, though without a mouth, the sound emerged as pure mental resonance that tickled the edges of my consciousness.

I have invited you. That makes it acceptable.

I nodded quickly, then rushed toward the bathing chambers before she could change her divine mind. My feet slapped against the cool marble as memories surfaced unbidden. The last time the gods had convened, it was to address Ayen's conspiracy against Vardin. She and her allies (Kanis Rael, Naori, and Lakosh) had been summoned to explain their actions to the remaining six deities.

I hadn't been privy to those proceedings, but Ayen had returned in a mood fouler than spoiled wine. Whatever transpired behind those closed doors hadn't pleased her. Yet here I remained, alive and training under her guidance, so perhaps things hadn't gone as poorly as her demeanor suggested.

The bathing chamber welcomed me with pools of heated water that never grew cold. Enchanted soaps dissolved dirt and sweat with supernatural efficiency. I scrubbed away every trace of combat, every bead of perspiration that might offend divine sensibilities. My reflection in the polished silver mirrors showed a young elf woman with silver hair plastered to her skull and sky-blue eyes bright with nervous energy.

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Meeting the gods. The Holy Twelve who had shaped this world through divine will. My hands trembled as I selected robes of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light like captured stars. The fabric whispered against my skin as I dressed, each fold arranged with meticulous care.

Soon I would stand before beings who had walked this realm for millennia. Entities who commanded forces beyond mortal comprehension. And perhaps, if fortune favored me, I would glimpse my own future among their ranks.

I couldn't keep a goddess waiting.

The meeting convened in a temple perched atop a mountain whose name I'd never heard whispered in any court or classroom. Ancient stone steps had carried us above the clouds themselves, where the air thinned and mortals should have gasped for breath. Yet divine magic sustained me, filling my lungs with sweetness that tasted of starlight and honey.

The chamber itself possessed a stark simplicity that somehow magnified its grandeur. Twelve chairs formed a perfect circle, each carved from different materials that caught the light in unique ways. One gleamed like polished obsidian, another shimmered with veins of silver that pulsed like a heartbeat. The domed ceiling arched high overhead, open to the heavens where brilliant sunlight poured down in heavy, golden streams. The temperature remained perfectly balanced; neither warm nor cool, as if the very air bent to divine will.

Yet comfort eluded me entirely.

Ten gods occupied their thrones, leaving two seats conspicuously empty. My eyes darted between faces that defied mortal description, trying to match features to the legends I'd studied since childhood. Some regarded me with curiosity, others with expressions I couldn't decipher. But several stared with barely concealed hostility that made my skin crawl like insects beneath silk.

"So this is the girl that killed Vardin."

The voice belonged to a god whose skin resembled ancient bark, rough and deeply grooved with patterns that shifted in the light. His eyes glowed white as winter moons, and when they fixed on me, I felt like prey beneath a predator's gaze. This had to be Clethu, Lord of Inception.

His attention snapped toward Ayen with sudden venom. "Bold of you to bring his murderer before us, Ayen. So soon after we censured you for your conspiracy."

Ayen's tendrils waved dismissively, sparks crackling between them. If she is to become the next God of Knowledge, she must understand how we conduct ourselves.

"Presumptuous."

The new speaker possessed features that seemed carved from living stone, his skin a patchwork of granite and marble. Insectile mandibles clicked as he spoke, and compound eyes reflected the sunlight in fractal patterns. Jothas, Lord of the Terrene, God of the Earth and Its Bounty. "We haven't decided what to do with her yet."

My blood turned to ice water in my veins. I whipped my head toward Ayen, shock and terror warring in my chest. They hadn't decided whether to let me live? The godseed pulsed against my ribs, suddenly feeling less like a promise and more like a death sentence.

"You're frightening the child."

The gentle rebuke came from a god whose appearance seemed almost human in comparison to the others. Kind eyes regarded me with something approaching sympathy, and his voice carried warmth like a father comforting his daughter. Mirrin, Lord of Amity.

"She bears no responsibility for Ayen's actions," he continued, addressing Clethu and Jothas with quiet authority. "Don't let your anger toward her conspirators poison your judgment of an innocent."

The tension in the chamber eased fractionally. Several gods nodded in agreement, their hostile stares softening to mere suspicion. I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, silently thanking Mirrin for his intervention.

Ayen turned toward a goddess whose form defied comprehension. Her image wavered and shifted constantly, as if she existed partially in the past and present simultaneously. Movements came in stuttered, disjointed jerks that hurt to watch directly.

How did the operation in the Central Hellzone proceed, Kanis Rael?

I leaned forward despite myself. Ayen had briefed me on this mission. A strike force was sent to eliminate the fugitive who had murdered Kaldos. The creature that now called itself Vardiel had stolen the War God's godseed and fled to the monster-ridden Central Hellzone. I remembered my brief encounters with the being when it still went by Widow at the War Academy. Even then, something about it had felt... wrong. Willful. Dangerous.

Before Kanis Rael could respond, another goddess spoke. Her appearance chilled me to the bone: skin like polished bone, hair that moved with its own wind, and eyes that held the depth of every grave ever dug.

"The entire operation was a disaster." Naori's voice carried the finality of a funeral bell. "Less than half our forces survived. Most of the death happened on the return trip through the Hellzone. Without Sedna the Dervish, many perished due to the powerful monsters they encountered."

Ayen's massive eye widened in shock. Sedna… is dead? How is such a thing possible?

Kanis Rael's form shifted more frantically, anger making her temporal displacement worse. "Vardiel has already awakened."

Impossible! Ayen's tendrils lashed the air, electricity arcing between them. No one reaches level one hundred in such a short time.

"My servant Coln confirmed it." Naori's tone brooked no argument.

A laugh bubbled up from another god, one whose features seemed to shift between numerous different futures with each blink. Lakosh, Lord of Ataxia, smiled with too many teeth. "We all felt the moment of that creature's awakening. Strange that you didn't, Ayen."

Ayen ignored his needling. Even after awakening, absorption of previous memories takes days. The host remains vulnerable. She fixed Kanis Rael with her singular gaze. How could your servant fail against such a weakened opponent?

Kanis Rael's form spasmed with fury. "According to Coln, Vardiel possessed perfect control of its new powers."

Again, impossible!

Lakosh's laughter grew louder. "You forget, dear Ayen. Vardiel isn't human. It's a Primordial. One of the original wielders of our Mantles. Why assume it would share our limitations when the Mantles themselves were once a part of it?"

Silence! Ayen's roar shook the very air. How can you be so jovial at a time like this?

"This is your fault!" Kanis Rael's temporal stuttering accelerated as rage consumed her. "I lost a powerful servant because of your miscalculations!"

The two allies descended into bitter argument, voices rising and accusations flying. I watched in growing horror as gods, the beings I'd revered since childhood, bickered like quarreling children in a marketplace.

Where was the dignity? The wisdom? The divine composure I'd expected from entities who'd ruled for millennia?

They were acting so... human.

Was this what awaited me when the godseed finally cracked open? Would I become another squabbling voice in this celestial tantrum?

"Enough!"

The command thundered through the chamber with such authority that both Ayen and Kanis Rael fell silent mid-argument. I turned toward the source and found myself staring at a goddess who seemed carved from pure sunlight itself. Her form blazed with brilliant radiance that should have blinded me, yet somehow my eyes adjusted to witness her glory. Golden hair flowed like liquid fire around shoulders that gleamed like polished amber, and when she moved, trails of light followed in her wake.

Altanava. Lady of Eos, Goddess of Day and the Sun.

"This bickering amongst ourselves serves no purpose," she declared, her voice carrying the warmth of summer mornings and the inexorable power of dawn breaking over mountains. "It will not solve the crisis we now face."

A god whose skin appeared black as the void between stars leaned forward in his throne. Within his eyes, I glimpsed the pinpoint lights of a thousand distant suns, each one burning with ancient fire. When he spoke, his voice held the vast emptiness of space itself.

"What crisis do you speak of, Altanava?" Prostas, Lord of the Sidereal, spread his hands in a gesture of confusion. "A new god has been born. This happens. The cycle continues as it always has." He shrugged with casual indifference. "Let us simply invite this newcomer into our fold and be done with such pointless drama."

Kanis Rael's temporal form spasmed with incredulous rage. "Don't be a fool, Prostas! This creature is a Primordial. Have you forgotten how dangerous they were? How many of our predecessors died bringing them down?"

Prostas remained unmoved. "Vardin vouched for this Vardiel before his death. He told us the creature was harmless, merely confused and frightened. I see no reason to doubt his assessment."

Several gods nodded thoughtfully at his words. Mirrin's kind expression grew contemplative, while Clethu stroked his bark-like chin. But others frowned deeply, including Jothas whose compound eyes reflected worry in fractal patterns.

Altanava fixed Prostas with a stare that could have melted steel. "Are you willing to bet your life on Vardin being correct? All our lives? The lives of every human in the kingdoms?"

For the first time, Prostas's confidence wavered. His stellar eyes dimmed slightly as he considered her words. "If it hadn't been you speaking those words, Altanava, I might have dismissed them as mere paranoia."

"Then listen carefully." Altanava rose from her throne, and the very air around her shimmered with heat and power. "Even after ten thousand years of wielding these Mantles, we still cannot access their full potential. We've spent millennia learning to use mere fractions of what the Primordials wielded instinctively." Her voice grew harder, more urgent. "Yet this Primordial managed to master its awakened powers in minutes, not decades."

She gestured toward Lakosh, who had stopped laughing and now watched with predatory interest. "If Lakosh speaks truly, then Vardiel will eventually be able to wield the complete power of the Mantle of Enmity. Not the limited version Kaldos possessed, but the full, terrible might that Borosmemnok once commanded."

The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop despite Altanava's radiant presence. I felt goosebumps rise along my arms as the implications settled over the assembly like a funeral shroud.

"But this time," Altanava continued, her voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty, "this Primordial possesses something its predecessors lacked. Sapience. True intelligence. It can think, strategize, plan campaigns and outmaneuver us in ways the mindless forces of nature never could."

I looked around the chamber, watching as questioning expressions replaced the earlier dismissive attitudes. These gods had fought the Primordials. They remembered the devastation, the countless deaths, the near-extinction of all four human races. Most importantly, they recognized the fear creeping into their own divine hearts, an emotion they likely hadn't experienced in ten millennia.

The silence stretched until Mirrin broke it with a quiet question. "What do you suggest we do, Altanava?"

The Goddess of Day closed her eyes and sighed deeply, the sound carrying infinite sadness. When she opened them again, they blazed with grim determination.

"I see no other path available to us than the one we walked ten thousand years ago." She smiled, but it held no joy, only the terrible resolve of someone contemplating necessary sacrifice. Her gaze swept the chamber, meeting each divine stare in turn.

"Friends. We must unite once more, for the threat of the Primordials has returned to our world." Her voice rose, taking on the cadence of a battle cry that had once rallied entire kingdoms. "It is time to muster our forces. All of them. Every warrior, every mage, every soldier who can hold a weapon in service to humanity's survival."

The words that followed hit me like physical blows, each one reshaping my understanding of what lay ahead.

"As we did ten millennia past, we must do so again now. Let the banner of humanity be raised high over every kingdom and queendom. Let us call our swords forward from every corner of the world." Her smile transformed, becoming something fierce and beautiful and terrible all at once.

"Let the Third Crusade begin."

END. BOOK THREE. GOD OF WEAPONRY.

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