Rah led Eiden and Morvath across the divine plains, their footsteps silent against the glowing white-and-gold grass. The air grew heavier the farther they walked, as if the realm itself recognized the gravity of those who approached. Ahead, rising from the horizon like a monument carved by eternity, stood a massive stone-pillared structure. Its pillars were impossibly tall, each one etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly under the golden-blue sky.
The building radiated a presence—not threatening, but absolute. It was a place where gods spoke, where destinies were rewritten, and where mortals were never meant to tread.
Rah stopped before the entrance. Two colossal doors towered above them, carved from white stone veined with gold. They were so large that even giants would seem small in their shadow. Rah raised a hand, and the doors opened on their own. A deep, resonant hum rolled through the air as the stone parted, revealing a vast hall lit by rows of torches that burned with steady, golden flames.
Eiden stepped forward. Morvath followed, silent and tense. Rah walked ahead of them, his robe brushing softly against the marble. The hall was enormous; the ceiling so high it vanished into darkness, the pillars stretching upward like the trunks of divine trees. At the far end stood a massive marble table, circular and polished to a mirror sheen.
But Eiden wasn't looking at the table. His eyes drifted to the right. A door. A simple door of white stone. Behind it lay a hallway he knew. His breath caught. This is… the same hallway from my dream. The same torches. The same stone. The same cold air.
Morvath noticed the hesitation. "Eiden…?"
Eiden didn't answer. Rah opened the door, and they stepped into the corridor. It was identical to the one in Eiden's vision—the one where he had heard whispers about the Angel King, Yajin, and the First Divinity. The torches lit themselves as they passed, one by one.
At the end of the hallway was the chamber. It was a circular room with a raised platform where the gods were already seated.
Selphira sat with her silver hair flowing like liquid light, radiating a calm that could steady collapsing stars. Vorthan leaned back in his throne, his scarred jaw set and his presence so heavy the marble beneath him seemed to strain. Aelion sat with storm-swirled eyes, lightning crackling faintly around him. Myrialis remained hooded, scrolls floating around her throne, pages turning on their own. Kaelith shimmered with constellations drifting across his skin, while Yulani smiled softly, golden light blooming around her wrists. Zathriel sat perfectly still, his mismatched eyes—one gold, one black—watching Eiden with unnerving precision. Tharos was silent, his silver eyes dimming the sunlight around him.
Rah took his seat among them. Larry slipped into the chamber, moving faster than any mortal eye could track, and settled into his own place with a flick of his tail. A crystal orb floated above the center of the table, swirling with white and gold light.
"Welcome, Eiden, the First Divinity," a layered, resonant voice filled the hall.
"And Morvath, the Umbramage… son of the Demon King," another voice added, deep and ancient.
The torches dimmed. The orb pulsed. "I will begin by stating who we are. This is the Council of Gods… and we are the Three Gods."
Eiden's eyes narrowed slightly. "How come the three of you aren't here in person?"
"Our presence is simply too powerful," the orb pulsed. "A single entry into Aetherion would likely destroy it. Concealing it is… well, it is like holding in diarrhea."
A brief, awkward silence fell. One of the gods at the table muttered, "Well… that's one way to put it."
The orb continued. "We called you here to thank you for the defeat of Yajin and the Angel King. We have recognized how your Sages operate. You trust one another. You coordinate. We thank you. We have even considered making the rest of the Sages gods as well."
Morvath's breath caught. The weight of the offer was staggering.
"But," the orb said, the light within it dimming, "we have a choice. And you must agree to hear it."
Eiden nodded once. "Alright. We agree. What is this choice?"
The orb brightened again. "Eiden, either you reveal the truth about the Black Wraith… or Morvath, you kill your father."
The chamber froze. Eiden's expression turned cold—colder than the marble beneath their feet. The longsword strapped to his lower back rattled softly, reacting to the sudden shift in his aura. Morvath's eyes widened, his chest tightening at the impossible thought of killing the Demon King. He turned sharply to Eiden.
"Eiden…? What does he mean about the Black Wraith?"
The orb pulsed, and the air grew heavy. "The Black Wraith was a man so cold he killed without hesitation. A man who slaughtered the ten gods we once placed in the mortal world. A man who traveled with Civilar, Reia, Ou'weii, Uzak'me, and Yajin."
Morvath's breath trembled.
"A man who destroyed kingdoms for amusement," the orb continued, its voice sharpening. "A man who loved battles to the death. A man who fought without honor. A man who invoked the Third Invocation two hundred and ninety-nine times."
Eiden's vision blurred. The chamber darkened. The sky outside dimmed, and the gods began to fade into the encroaching shadow. The Sages vanished. The torches extinguished.
Only the darkness remained.