The chamber of the gods was carved from a single block of radiant marble, polished so flawlessly that the walls reflected the sunlight pouring in from every direction. The stone gleamed like frozen lightning, its surface so smooth it appeared almost liquid. Towering windows lined the sides and the ceiling, allowing golden beams to cascade down like pillars from the heavens. The light didn't simply illuminate the chamber; it saturated the air, filling it with a warm, divine pressure that made the entire hall feel alive and aware.
At the center stood a massive circular table of white marble veined with gold, its polished surface reflecting the gods like a mirror of creation. Ten thrones surrounded it, each sculpted with the impossible precision of beings older than time.
The Council of Gods had gathered. Ten existences whose power could erase universes with a flick of their fingers. All wore white robes that shifted like woven starlight.
Larry, a black, muscular cat, sat atop his throne, emerald eyes sharp and unblinking. His fur shimmered like obsidian, reflecting a faint green sheen that bent reality itself. Rah, a figure with bronze‑brown skin, sat nearby, the single glowing eye on his forehead pulsing with ripples of perception. Selphira radiated a calm that could steady collapsing stars, while Vorthan's heavy presence distorted gravity with every breath.
Aelion's eyes swirled like distant storms, while Myrialis sat shrouded in mystery, ancient scrolls floating around her. Kaelith's skin shimmered with constellations, Yulani glowed with golden light, Zathriel watched with mismatched eyes of gold and black, and Tharos sat in a pocket of chill where the sunlight refused to go.
Their auras pressed against one another, warping the light until the chamber felt like a pressure vessel of cosmic power. At the far end of the table, the Communion Sphere hovered, rippling like liquid starlight— the link to the Three Gods who stood above even the Council.
"Let the Council begin," Larry spoke, his voice deep and resonant.
The orb pulsed with a heavy thrum. "Thank you all for gathering," a voice erupted from within, echoing from every direction. "I'd like to begin with the future we had set. We agreed that within the Seven Great Sages, one was meant to die. We had destined everyone other than Eiden, Selyndra, and Vaelus to perish. But somehow… Eiden changed that future. And now, everything changes."
The gods stilled.
"Civilar will gain the Blade of Enchantment. With it, he will have the power to enter our side of the world."
Aelion narrowed his storm-colored eyes. "So what do we do?"
"We had Larry send an order to Dyuke. He will inform the Sages to come to us, and we will recruit them. We will grant them divine power. But Eiden… he is our lucky one. He could likely trick even Larry during a fight. In fact… he could trick all of you."
The sunlight dimmed at the weight of that truth. The gods exchanged slow, deliberate glances—not insulted, but intrigued.
"With all due respect," Aelion said, his voice edged with disbelief, "you think he could trick all of us? Even Larry?"
"We know he could. When he arrives, the Sages will be granted identical black robes and cloaks. And… we also need to discuss matters with him concerning what he did over five thousand years ago."
The air shifted at the mention of the past. Aelion exhaled sharply. "That is a bad idea. He did everything to erase anyone who knew that side of him. He chanted a spell that gave him two souls. One—the old personality—is sealed within the hilt of his longsword. The other is the one inside him now. If he is reminded, his old consciousness will instantly merge."
He looked at the Council. "Back then, Eiden was a ruthless fighter. He showed no mercy. Is it safe for a man like him to walk among our ranks?"
"We understand your concern," the orb replied. "But it is not as if he could harm us. Most of his memories may be wiped, but a fragment of his old soul reacts within him."
The room broke into a debate. Aelion called it instability; Selphira called it inevitability. Vorthan remained unconvinced, while Zathriel and Kaelith worried that the version of Eiden from five thousand years ago would return—a version Tharos called dangerous.
"You misunderstand," Rah said quietly. "He was not a monster. He was efficient."
"Correct," the orb pulsed, its light deepening. "The future has already shifted. What was once fixed is now fluid. We will end the gathering soon, but first—watch Eiden. Ensure he reaches our land safely. No mortal, no demon, no celestial, no dragon is to obstruct him."
Aelion crossed his arms. "You're asking us to escort him."
"We are asking you to ensure his path remains untouched. He must arrive here—unaltered. And we will speak with him about his past. He must face what he was—and what he may become."
Aelion shook his head, warning that they were risking awakening the version of Eiden that even the greatest enemies once feared.
"We know," the orb's glow intensified. "Watch him. Guide him. Protect his path. Eiden must reach us—safely."