The mist thickened, visibility dropping. It made Aurelion feel the weight of what he'd started.
No one here was trustworthy; it was a battle for authority. Seraphina and Valerius stood caught between divine powers.
The messengers had fully formed now. One stood out — the messenger of the God of Identity. Who else would it be? Still, Aurelion was glad to see him.
The god felt the same, and why wouldn't he? Aurelion was doing something no other apostle had done in centuries.
He couldn't be allowed to do as he wished — he'd already lost his stability. The sudden release of so many identities had caused it, but in return it gave him near-perfect defense. Before anyone could understand the identities currently active, new ones emerged. Even if they defeated what stood in front of them, Aurelion would shed it before taking any real loss.
The door opened.
Everyone's focus snapped to it. Zephyr had entered, Kaelen and two guards behind him.
Kaelen was still taking in the room. The moment his eyes found Aurelion, they sharpened — his face went pale, his body slackened, every bit of hope draining out of him. That reaction was enough to reassure Aurelion he still had control. The others didn't know the method he was using. Still — how long could it last? Kaelen would learn what was being done to him eventually.
Aurelion pushed his identity to merge with Kaelen's. Kaelen's sheer authority resisted every attempt the gods made to force a change through it. Forced into motion anyway, he began moving forward, slow and stiff.
Seraphina, Valerius, and Zephyr had all proven their loyalty by now. If Aurelion needed to stop Kaelen fast, turning one of them into an apostle was the cleanest option.
Cultivating enough blessings and information would take minutes, not seconds — and without the gods burning resources to interfere, it would've taken far less.
Aurelion still had to figure out which of them to choose — and stall until it was done.
A message came from the god of deception. Aurelion sensed it but couldn't read it — the god of identity had cut him off.
"What's the difference between you and them, if you're just as hungry for power?" Aurelion said, quiet enough that only the god of identity could hear.
No reply. That told him everything. The silence carried more weight than anything the messenger could have said.
Their understanding kept the arrangement alive — both of them knew what it would cost if Aurelion gained too much. Even if the god's real motive wasn't to prevent that, but to hoard power for himself, he still had the excuse ready to use.
There was no time to sit with any of it. A few minutes left.
"You three seem awfully calm," Aurelion said, "for people about to lose one of their own." He was bluffing, buying his identities more time.
"We're co-workers, not friends. This is just the job," Zephyr said, sensing something off in Aurelion's tone but unable to place it. "Whatever's making you think you're ahead of us — you're wrong." His hands came out of his pockets.
"Wrong?" Aurelion let out a loud, forced laugh, needling them. "I've seen this before. Same god, same place, same me — only the followers change."
"Same you?" Zephyr said, and it landed harder than he expected.
"That's not what you should be worried about right now." Aurelion's face said the rest.
"You won't get through me that easily," Zephyr said, hands back in his pockets.
That exchange cost them time.
Aurelion still had a few cards left. "Still — they're going to get rid of you."
Zephyr didn't take the bait this time.
"Still trying?" Seraphina called out, shifting position to throw Aurelion off — not realizing his identity was tracking every move he made.
"I think it's time for the big reveal," Aurelion said, buying himself a moment to think. "You two sit at the upper ranks of authority. Zephyr's Stage 5. Disposable."
"He's fixed every mistake we've made. How is that disposable?" Seraphina shot back, trying to shut Aurelion down the way Zephyr just had.
"You've been at this a long time. You think you've grown, learned something — and yet you're reacting exactly the same."
"Get to the point, or admit you don't have one," Seraphina snapped. Valerius pulled him back and nodded toward Zephyr's face — he believed Aurelion.
"Plenty of people can fix problems," Aurelion said. "But how many of them are Stage 3?"
The number caught their attention before the words did. They waited for an explanation without demanding one.
Aurelion let the silence stretch as long as their patience allowed. "When someone's born, they're given a certain amount of authority, split into eight stages. It's not an exact science, but it holds up well enough."
"What stage are we?" Zephyr asked, already resigned to the answer.
Aurelion smiled. "Like I said — you're 5. Your friends are 3. I'm 1."
"And the kid?"
"You're sharp," Aurelion said, "but it won't matter once you're dead." He let that sit before answering. "He's at the peak of Stage 1. The highest ever recorded in a human."
All three of them went still. Their movements slowed, like the words had physically pulled them out of the moment.
"Have you never noticed," Aurelion said, "that Zephyr sits behind a desk while the two of you do all the active work?"
None of them answered. There was too much to process at once.
On one side stood a corrupted Aurelion, handing them the truth while tearing down what little balance they had left. On the other, the beings who actually ran their world.
Seraphina and Valerius pressed on with the ritual anyway. Aurelion still couldn't tell which of them would end up chosen.
Two minutes left.
The first real strike came. Zephyr stood ready with a set of newly formed guards, shaped from identities Aurelion had released — thin, black-armored gladiators built for a single lethal strike, the only kind of fighter that made sense here.
As the soldiers advanced, Aurelion turned Kaelen into a conduit, pulling identities out of thin air through him. Kaelen dropped to his knees — no physical pain, just a mental pressure so heavy it looked like he was begging to be let go.
One minute forty seconds left. In that stretch of time, the room filled with soldiers no one had invited, and the fighting began in earnest.
There was only one path through this: reach Kaelen before Aurelion finished what he'd started. Everyone in the room understood that. So did Aurelion. He watched them work it out, and smiled, content to wait for them to catch up.