The air in the subterranean throne room crackled with Morgana's newly unleashed power and Poimandres's primordial energy. Nyx watched her new ally, the Dark Faerie Goddess, with a mixture of satisfaction and calculation. Her plans for the conquest of the surface world seemed closer than ever.
They were discussing Umbria's defenses, combining Morgana's intimate knowledge of the college with Nyx's chaotic strategies, when an icy sound pierced the cavern. It wasn't a roar, not a spell, but a wail, a high-pitched, piercing wail that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Poimandres raised his grim head, hissing in irritation. The corrupted elves stirred, their red eyes flickering with instinctive fear.
"What is that?" Morgana asked, the new dark divinity in her emerald eyes showing momentary confusion.
Before Nyx could respond, a translucent figure materialized in the center of the room. It was the same Banshee who had warned Aria in Umbria, her ethereal form glowing with a pale, ghostly light, her face a mask of infinite sadness.
"The end is near!" the Banshee wailed, her voice like the wind through broken bones. "Or the beginning!"
Nyx stood, her red eyes fixed on the apparition. She recognized the creature of ancient legends, a harbinger of death and radical change. "What do you want, pitiful spirit?" she asked, her voice cold and fearless.
"I come to warn!" the Banshee wept, floating in front of the two dark sorceresses. "Even you, weavers of shadows! An ancient force awakens! A tide that will drown both Light and Chaos if not confronted!"
Morgana frowned, her dark Fae power bristling at the spirit's presence. "What are you talking about? Merlin? His pathetic mages?"
"No!" the Banshee cried, her wail intensifying. "They are nothing compared to those to come! The First Ones! The Masters!"
The Banshee reached out a trembling hand, as if pointing to something beyond the cavern walls, beyond the world itself.
"The Netlin!" her voice rose, heavy with awe. "The so-called Children of God! Those who walked the earth when I was young! Those who taught magic to your fragile human race!"
Both Nyx and Morgana were momentarily silent. The name "Netlin" was unfamiliar to them, but the description—"Children of God," "Masters of Magic"—resonated with an ancient, fundamental power.
"Children of God?" Nyx repeated, with a mocking smile. "There is no god but primordial Chaos, ignorant spirit. And if these 'Netlin' taught magic to humans, it only demonstrates their weakness, sharing power with lesser mortals."
"Do not underestimate them!" the Banshee warned, her form flickering. "Their power is different. It is order, it is creation, it is the very structure of the magic that Merlin and his people seek to preserve, but in its purest, most unyielding form. They will not tolerate imbalance! Not yours, not the Light's!"
Morgana felt a chill run through her, despite her newfound divine power. Beings who taught magic to humans? Older perhaps than Merlin himself? A force of pure order? That represented a direct threat to their plans, to their own newly embraced chaotic nature.
"And why do you warn us?" Morgana asked, her voice now a dangerous whisper.
"For my lament is for all," the Banshee wailed. "I herald change, destruction, the end of ages. And their arrival... marks the end of yours! They are coming soon! They are here!"
With a final scream that shook the stalactites of the cavern, the Banshee vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving behind a silence filled with tension and a new, unexpected uncertainty.
Nyx and Morgana exchanged glances. The smile had vanished from Nyx's face, replaced by a thoughtful expression. Poimandres growled softly, a deep vibration that resonated in the room.
"Netlin..." Nyx murmured. "Children of God... Masters of Magic..."
"Obstacles," Morgana said, her voice cold and determined. "Another vestige of an ancient order we must destroy. Whoever they are, they will kneel before us, or be annihilated."
Although their words were defiant, a new variable had entered the equation. The war they planned to wage against Umbria had just become infinitely more complex. The imminent arrival of the Netlins threatened to alter the balance of power in ways neither Light nor Darkness could foresee. The game board had changed drastically.