The Divine Court of Memphis – Egyptian Pantheon
Golden light shimmered over the Nile horizon, dancing across the alabaster columns of the temple of Thoth. Inside the marble chamber, cool and vast, the full host of the Egyptian pantheon gathered, their chosen seated on crescent benches of lapis and obsidian. The walls whispered with hieroglyphic light, animated by divine memory.
At the center of the circle stood the Chosen of Horus, a man wrapped in ceremonial linen and adorned with winged gold armor that shimmered with radiant authority.
"We must vote," Horus' Chosen said firmly. "The gates of Tartarus are open. Our seers confirm the entities escaping are not bound by any pantheon's codes. If we do not act, our temples may fall next."
"No," came the sharp reply from across the chamber. "We are not the sword of Olympus." It was the Chosen of Bastet, a woman whose eyes glowed like twin suns. "Let their war consume itself. We will remain neutral."
"Neutrality," sneered Anubis' Chosen, "while the Earth burns?"
"The mortals are not ours to save," Bastet's Chosen replied. "And we have long memories. Have we forgotten what Olympus did when our gates fell to the smoke-born devourers? They watched. We owe them nothing."
A rumble of agreement passed through the chamber. Only Thoth's Chosen remained silent, fingers tapping lightly on the shaft of his staff.
The final vote was called.
Out of the thirty-three voices of the Egyptian Chosen, twenty-seven voted for neutrality.
The judgment was cast.
As the gods' chosen began to rise and disperse, quiet tension hovered like desert heat over sand.
The Chosen of Bastet lingered at the temple's edge, watching a lone bird flutter down from a sycamore tree outside. A desert kestrel. Its wings beat lazily in the warm air, spiraling once before gliding down toward him.
He raised his hand slowly, palm up, expecting the bird to land.
But the kestrel never reached him.
As it passed in front of his face, it turned into mist, dissipating with an unnatural silence. For a breathless moment, the world froze.
Schlick.
A gleam of steel flashed behind his neck.
His head hit the sandstone courtyard floor with a dull thud, wide eyes still glowing with divine light as they rolled away from his lifeless body.
Gasps erupted. Chaos stirred.
The bird, the same kestrel reformed from the mist and perched on the edge of a low marble bench nearby, its obsidian eyes unblinking as it spoke with an ancient, echoing voice:
"I bring a message from King Sulayman of the Eastern Djinn Court. There shall be no neutrality for divine creatures until balance is restored. Any who do not fight the Tartarian uprising or who use this chaos to expand territory, shall be declared enemies of King Sulayman. Our judgment is swift."
The bird took flight again, vanishing into dust.
No one dared move.
Eastern Europe
Ash blanketed the broken hillsides like snow. Craters littered the land for miles, glowing faintly with infernal heat. The bones of cities clawed at the sky, skeletal and blackened. Fires raged through twisted highways. The screams of battle echoed between shattered forests.
And in the center of it all were Giants.
Four of them. Each over twenty feet tall, wielding clubs fashioned from steel beams and broken towers. Their skin was granite laced with obsidian veins, their eyes hollow with divine fury.
Opposing them were demons, fanged beasts clad in spiked bone and rotting flesh, some with leathery wings, others slithering like centipedes the size of buses. Two of the giants were already locked in combat with these horrors, while a third hurled flaming rubble at retreating human soldiers scrambling toward an evacuation corridor.
The sky split.
A fracture of black and violet ripped open above the battlefield. A gust of pressure slammed down like a falling mountain, flattening the nearby treetops and freezing both demon and giant for a split-second.
Then Mike fell from the tear in the sky, wrapped in shadows and smoke, his bare feet striking the scorched earth like a falling meteor.
He rose slowly, eyes burning crimson, steam curling from his skin. His dragon form simmered beneath his human shell barely restrained.
A giant turned.
Snarled.
Raised a club.
Mike didn't speak.
He leapt forward.
Crack
The giant's arm snapped as Mike caught the club mid-swing and ripped it free, spinning once before driving the sharpened end through the creature's chest. Black ichor sprayed like oil, sizzling as it hit the ground.
Another demon lunged.
Mike opened his mouth and roared, fire erupting from his lungs in a concentrated beam that turned the creature into ash mid-air.
The battlefield came alive again.
The fourth giant charged, swinging a bridge cable like a flail. Mike ducked, kicked upward, shattering the giant's knee before leaping to its shoulders and driving both claws into its skull. It fell like a fallen tower, cracking the ground beneath it.
Mike's chest heaved.
His vision was bleeding over with divine threads, strands of energy from every creature on the field, giants, demons, mortals. He saw weakness. He saw memory. He saw through the veil.
He stumbled back.
A wave of pain crashed through his skull. Voices. Echoes.
"You're not strong enough yet."
"What you consumed is not quiet."
"Persephone… she doesn't understand the Hollow..."
"He'll destroy us all."
He gritted his teeth. Blood ran from his nose.
He saw flashes, Hecate's memories of half-formed rituals, whispers in Underworld halls, Persephone's voice, her judgment, her betrayal, her fear.
Then Bahamut's voice echoed, thunderous and cold: "You have to control it! Otherwise it will consume your mind."
Mike fell to one knee.
The battle still raged, but it became distant. A shadow. A hum beneath the scream of memories.
From behind the rubble of a crumbled highway, a demon stalked toward him.
Mike didn't look up.
Instead, he whispered, barely audible:
"I'm not done yet."
And fire exploded from his chest, wings of molten power unfurling in a flash. The demon turned to dust mid-step.
Mike rose slowly, black veins visible across his forearms and neck but fading, retreating under the force of will.
Above him, thunder cracked, and the veil shimmered with fracture lines. Other pantheons would feel it. Watchers would see it.
Mike gritted his teeth and kept pushing essence through his body. The flames continued billowing out from his body. The Giants and Demons all burned to ash as Mike fell to the ground in his human form. His hands sinking into the soft piles of ash.
His breath was ragged and could feel the thumps of his racing heartbeat. A low growl came out of his clenched teeth.
Mike slowly stumbled across the scorched landscape. Looking out at the grey skies and flames ravaging the countryside he pushed forward. The memories and voices whispering in his mind.