Lochen Mountain Range

  Year 639 of the Divine Empire

  Saint Auber of Kirk awoke on cold stone and immediately realized that god was dead. This wasn’t unexpected, but disappointing regardless. Shelving this revelation for now, he slowly stood up, wincing as his ancient bones cracked and popped. The stiffness was to be anticipated however, given the state of the room that had once been his resting place. The murals on the stone walls of this forgotten temple were already faded by the time he’d placed himself into an enchanted slumber, and were now so worn away that one would assume the room to be unadorned were they not paying attention. This fact went unnoticed by the Saint of Discovery, as not only was he generally uninterested in art but was also distracted by the inches of ice-cold water that now covered the floor. It seemed that erosion had finally broken through, and rainwater had been allowed to fill this place. If he was feeling it now, then it was likely that the bottom three floors had been completely submerged. No matter, his business was at the peak.

  As he splashed through the dark corridors of this underground complex, Saint Auber lamented not waiting for fully enclosed shoes to be invented. The leather sandals he wore gave no protection from the water that nearly reached his ankles, and he was beginning to grow numb. It was also regrettable that he hadn’t bonded with a domain that would allow him to light his way, but it’s not as if patience would have resolved that particular grievance. The luminescent stones embedded in the walls were enough for now, though his eyelids were already growing tired from all the squinting. A shame he couldn’t have settled before his form had withered from age. Many such thoughts filled Auber’s mind as he sloshed through the crumbling halls; the kind of regrets that could only be gathered by a man who had lived for millenia.

  As he finally reached the stairs leading away from the submerged levels, the Saint took a moment to look through one of the few windows the complex had. The breathtaking site granted by living near the top of one of the world’s largest mountains had long since lost its luster, and yet he was still left pondering the sight for some time. A landscape can change a lot in a thousand years, with the differences made far clearer when you were only present for the beginning and end of this transition. While the shape of the land was the same, the grand forests had long been decimated by wildfires and woodcutters. They had been put to good use at least, for the city built dozens of miles from here was far larger than any he had seen before. Odd, then, that such a massive city had clearly found itself recently pillaged. Or at least he presumed as much, the gates had been reduced to cinders and slag and the blackened ruins in the center must have recently been a grand castle. Despite this, the rest of the city seemed generally unharmed, which begged the question of what the purpose of this attack could possibly have been.

  “No use pondering,” he muttered to himself. Somus would no doubt sate his curiosity.

  With that in mind, all that was left to do was reach the top of the temple, and so Auber began his slow ascent. Once more he cursed the state at which his body had reached eternity, with each flight of stairs fighting long and hard against his elderly form. It took a humiliating amount of time, but eventually he found himself five floors higher, standing before the titanic threshold leading into the sacred chamber. The double doors, each one approaching fifty feet tall, lay open. A bit unprofessional, he supposed, but with Somus being the only one large enough to move those titans of stone it was something of a necessity. Chuckling at the memory of his oldest friend, he stepped through the doorway for what would be the last time.

  The room he entered was much like the old beast that dwelled within it, a once grand thing that had since grown old and tired. The domed space was decorated with stone carvings of impossible detail, all worn down to the point that they were no longer recognizable. In the center laid the Well of Recollection, its waters still perfectly clear despite all of the rubble and dust that filled the room. Though the space between this floor and the one below could not have been more than twenty or so feet, there was no discernible bottom to this circular pool. These marvels could have had all the world’s historians frothing at the mouth to study and interpret them, yet they paled in comparison to the one who dwelled amongst them. Somus the elder dragon was of titanic size, too large now to leave this room without reducing it to rubble. Not that he could even if he wanted to, for his body had at long last started to show the signs of age. Most of his exterior scales had fully petrified, with only his head and patches of his torso still showing off their brilliant indigo hue. To move would be to shatter his body into pieces, and so upon the Saint’s arrival all he could do was open his eyes.

  “Finally here, are you?” the dragon’s voice echoes through the room, “You certainly took your time.”

  “Apologies old friend, I’m afraid that without the disciples here, moving through the temple has grown far more difficult. What happened to them anyways? This place seems to have been abandoned for some time.”

  “All that occurred was the passage of time. There’s only so long that generations of scholars can watch over a slumbering old man before they begin to seek discovery in the greater world.”

  “I suppose that is. . . unsurprising. I question, then, why you also remained here. Surely there was a far grander place that you could begin the end of your life.”

  “Grander, eh? I ceased to care for great things centuries ago. With my tastes dulled and Ambition satisfied, all that remained for me was to wait here. After all, I too am curious to see what can be gleaned for a fate in retrospect.”

  “. . . I see. Thank you, then. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “And yet you must learn to do so, for I will not last long enough to aid you with the next cycle.”

  “Then I must learn much in the first iteration then. So be it. For two bearing the ideal of Curiosity, you could not hope for a better parting. Shall we get started, then? What have I missed in the past thousand years?”

  “Ah. That. Though there is much to witness and understand, I’m afraid we must first address a few wrinkles in the experiment. First off, I must congratulate you on your appointment, oh Saint of Discovery.”

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  “. . . I beg your pardon?”

  “Heh. Surprised? When Eon fell and a new faith for humanity was chosen, the first emperor of the Holy Empire decided to reject the Path of Bonds and mandate the Path of Ideals in exclusivity. Well regarded humans alive and dead were anointed as a pantheon of sorts. Over five hundred years after your supposed death, your name had gained quite a bit of renown. And so you were chosen as the first Saint of the Domain of Discovery. I assume they were not aware of your status as a magus, as those sorts are feared in this day and age.”

  “Interesting. A world of only Ideals, then. Sounds like a rather selfish place, if you ask me.”

  “That was the first emperor’s primary Ideal, so it can be assumed this was part of his objective.”

  “Ah. How clever. But that can come later, for you have yet to tell me about the fall of Eon. This experiment was meant to start with a record of history, after all. Might as well go in chronological order.”

  “As much as I would like to agree with you, I’m afraid we must start with more recent events. Both the formation of the Empire and the deicide that preluded it are going to have to wait. You see, my friend, you have not rested for a thousand years. I had to wake you early by nearly two centuries.”

  “I–I'm sorry? Somus, I thought I made it clear that we needed a consistent time period for the results to have any meaning! What possible reason could you have had to do this?”

  “I am well aware of your instructions, Auber, but I’m afraid you failed to consider something when you thought them up. You assumed that faking your death and leaving the greater world would be enough to write yourself out of its fate, but did not realize that fate is inescapable for all those who dwell on terra munda. I will be frank with you, there is work to be done that will have to distract from your goals. In three days, you will be forced to make a decision to which is tied the fate of the known world. We must prepare.”

  “. . . Oh. That is. . . unfortunate. Might I ask how exactly I am meant to change the world? I know for certain that neither of us are able to see into the future, as that would make our experiment somewhat pointless. How, then, am I so important and how are you aware of my role?”

  “One does not need the power of prophecy to understand cause and effect. With the Well of Recollection I can see what approaches and what has led to this point, and am more than capable of assuming the significance of what is to come. I understand you have questions, but we have a handful of days to interpret an entire lifetime. Allow me, if you will, to present our dilemma.”

  Somus whispered an ancient rite, so old that even Auber found it archaic and difficult to understand. In the center of the room, the waters of the Well of Recollection began to grow murky, as if colored ink had been poured into them. Mesmerized as always by this Celestial power, the old Saint could only watch as an image formed within. What was shown in this divination was almost familiar to him, he recognized the roads that led to the temple clearly, though it was the one who walked upon them that baffled him. Steadily approaching his location was a being not quite like anything he had ever seen.

  The woman was massive, reaching nearly eight feet tall, though that was far from the most baffling aspect to her appearance. She resembled a Ufezela, perhaps, at least in the black carapace that covered much of her body save for any points of articulation or the undersides of her limbs. But that was where the comparisons ended, for her flesh was a strange rosy pink, creating an odd contrast with her otherwise dark exterior. This contrast was only exacerbated by the strange markings across her shell, the same color as her flesh and resembling ocean waves intermixed with a serpentine form. Auber was forced to double take as he realized that not only were these markings carved into her shell, but also that they seemed to resemble an astral serpent. How could someone in the Terrestrial Realm know the appearance of a higher being? This woman frightened him in a way that could not quite be placed. Despite the power he held as a gatekeeper between realms, there was still an instinct laying deep within his gut, one that told him that this was not someone he wanted as an enemy.

  “What. . . is she? A magus corrupted by her bond? Some sort of evolution of the Ufezela?”

  “Neither. Her kind are known as the Kālai. They hail from a chain of islands found far west of the continental bridge. It seems that the cancorum line was more diverse than initially thought. It would be better to see her as a divergent evolution, more closely related to the origin species. For clarity’s sake, her name is Kanoa.”

  “Interesting. And those markings. . . they seem to reflect a higher being. I assume this is part of why she is so important to the fate of this world?”

  “A part, yes, but far from the whole story. In less than a century, this woman has achieved much. She has toppled the empire that slew the god of humanity, claimed the bonds of multiple deities, and is now slated for her own ascension. If you would allow it, she will be the first outside of the deep folk to reach the Astral Realm in ages.”

  “Remarkable. . . I apologize for my terseness, friend. This is most certainly worth pausing my experiments for. I have many questions about this Kanoa, most important of which being how she obtained such success and why she would leave it all behind to be among the dregs of the Astral realm, but I suppose I’ll be finding the answers to those soon enough?”

  “Indeed. No matter how much admiration you may have for an individual, their judgement must be fair. As always, we must observe her life in its entirety. Only through witnessing her greatest successes, failures, sins, and virtues may we deem her worthy of gaining godhood. I will be honest with you, Auber. From what I have seen so far, it is unlikely that she will stop once ascending. Though her goals currently lie in the Astral Realm, I sense her Ambition to be unyielding. Were we to allow her to ascend, I have no doubts that she will inevitably seek the Celestial. We are not simply allowing her into the court, but past the stars themselves. Our analysis must be clear, lest we allow someone unfit to create a new Ideal.”

  “Well, that is to be expected. One does not reach the point of ascension without the Ambition to match their strength. Given your overbearing caution, I presume her hands are far from clean?”

  “Have you known any conquerors to be innocent? Kanoa bears a multitude of sins, and so we must decide whether or not they indicate a mindset that would be dangerous if allowed greater strength.”

  “Very well. It has been some time since I have been forced to play my role in this world. So long that I had nearly forgotten it entirely. But no matter, there is work to be done and little time to complete it. It’s a shame we will not be able to perceive her in perfect detail, but I’m well aware that this limitation is my own fault. I am ready, Somus. Let us begin.”

  “Of course. Let our last debate be in analysis of the fate of this world. A fitting end, I would say.”

  And so the two ancients called out to the Celestial once more, and the Well of Recollection began to show its true power. Shifting and deepening, the image of this mortal monolith fades away, soon to be replaced with events that occurred decades ago. Patiently, expectantly, they await the chance to witness a life that would change the path of this world. The chance to see the experiences that turned a spurned child into the empress who refused to be.