The Sages sat within their mansion, each adrift in a private sanctuary of peace.
In the library, Gavran rested with his wings folded in disciplined lines, his crimson eyes tracing the ancient runes of a glowing tome. The soft, rhythmic rustle of parchment was the only sound against the stillness. Outside, the women gathered in the shimmering white-and-gold grass—blades of light that looked like sunshine frozen in time. Iris lay on her back, lost in the sky; Seraphaine braided Selyndra's hair with delicate care; and Agora sat cross-legged, her tails swaying lazily as she listened to the soft drift of their laughter.
Inside the mansion, however, there was only chaos.
Vaelus, Morvath, and Dravien stood in what had once been a kitchen. Flour coated every surface like a fresh snowfall, and eggshells littered the floor like shrapnel. A bowl of raw meat sat abandoned on a chair, while a pan on the stove had successfully caught fire.
Vaelus was screaming at the flames. Morvath was screaming at Vaelus. Dravien was staring into the void, mourning every life choice that had led him to this moment.
"It has been four months," Dravien muttered, wiping flour from his eyes. "Four months since the wedding, and we still cannot survive a single meal without Eiden."
Vaelus hurled a handful of flour at him. Dravien countered by throwing a knife. Morvath caught the blade mid-air with a twitching shadow tendril.
"Enough," Morvath sighed. "We are making dinner, not starting a civil war."
"He started it!" Vaelus snapped.
"I will end it," Dravien replied, his voice flat. The kitchen groaned under the weight of their collective incompetence.
Far from the culinary disaster, Eiden walked with Larry and Rah toward the towering gates of the Land of Gods. The air shimmered with a dense, divine energy, and the sky held a permanent, golden glow.
"He says he has a message from the Demon King," Larry said, adjusting his glasses. "Insists on giving it to you personally."
Eiden raised an eyebrow. "A messenger? Describe him."
"He calls himself Bantari," Rah sighed.
Eiden's gaze lifted toward the horizon. "Ah. I know him."
They reached the massive white doors, which parted with a deep, resonant hum. Standing perfectly still in the opening was Bantari—black armor, red eyes, and an aura as sharp as the blade at his waist.
"Hey, Eiden," Bantari said. "First time meeting in the flesh. I have a message."
Eiden nodded. "Larry, Rah—you can leave us. He won't cause trouble." He turned back to the messenger. "Bantari, walk with me."
They stepped into the open plains, moving through the white-and-gold grass until they were well out of earshot. Morvath stood waiting there, arms crossed, shadows curling around his boots. Eiden came to a halt and looked at Bantari. "Go ahead."
Bantari nodded. A dark flash erupted, and black feathers exploded outward in a whirlwind of shadow. When they cleared, two figures stood where the messenger had been.
Bengie stood with his hands in his pockets, his cloak fluttering in the divine breeze. Beside him was Ou'weii, the Demon King himself, his aura heavy enough to bruise the air.
Morvath's eyes widened. Ou'weii smiled faintly. "Morvath. It is good to see you again."
Without hesitation, Morvath moved forward and pulled him into a hug. Ou'weii sighed, patting his back. "Congratulations on the marriage, my son."
Bengie approached Eiden and unclipped the endless pocket bag from his belt. "Inside," Bengie said, "is the Grimoire of Divinark. Every text related to the Three Gods. Every single one. And the Sword of Gods. It's all here."
Eiden took the bag, clipping it to his own belt. "Thank you. Again." He reached out and tapped Bengie's forehead. "For this service, I offer you the knowledge of every spell this world has ever known."
Bengie's eyes went wide as thousands of runes, formulas, and ancient incantations flooded his mind in a single, overwhelming instant. He staggered, then found his footing. "Thank you, Eiden."
The two shared a firm handshake—a silent pact sealed. Eiden turned to Ou'weii. "Now that you are here, we can finally discuss—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
In the next heartbeat, all four of them moved. Morvath tore himself away from Ou'weii as shadows exploded beneath him; the Demon King vanished in a blur of black aura; Eiden and Bengie flashed sideways as the air cracked from the force of their displacement.
A blinding beam of white-gold light slammed into the earth where they had stood. The explosion erupted like a newborn star, vaporizing the grass and carving a massive crater into the plains.
When the dust settled, two figures descended from the sky: Larry and Rah. Their auras flared like twin suns, their robes whipping violently in the gale of their own power.
"You brought an enemy into our territory," Rah said, his voice cold and merciless. "Your enemy, no less."
Larry crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "And with him," Rah continued, "the man responsible for smuggling the artifacts of the Three Gods. Explain yourself, Eiden, or you will die here."
The plains fell into a deafening silence. Eiden rose slowly, brushing the dust from his cloak. His expression remained utterly calm.
"Please," Eiden said. "You are weak to me. Remember?"
Rah's jaw clenched.
"Try anything," Eiden continued, "and I will kill you both."
The air trembled under the threat. Morvath stepped closer, shadows curling protectively, while Ou'weii and Bengie stood ready behind him. Eiden lifted a hand.
"Stand down. I will explain later. For now—" He snapped his fingers.
In a blink of white-gold light, Bengie and Ou'weii were teleported away. The grass rippled where they had stood, then went still. Eiden lowered his hand.
"Leave me," he said. "I will explain tomorrow."
Larry and Rah exchanged a long, tense glance. Larry sighed. "You had better."
With a burst of divine aura, the two shot back into the sky, disappearing beyond the clouds. The plains fell quiet once more. Eiden exhaled slowly, the weight of the coming war settling onto his shoulders.