The Worldeater Saga, Part XXX: The Battle of Green Lake

Ethereal music filled mortal minds as the Giver of Life’s colossal form heaved through the earth. To the tune of this beautiful chorus did He fashion the means of His own escape, His glimmering bulk swimming through muddy, raging rapids that surged from underneath and around Him. Brought to abatement by Accordant Water’s untimely emergence, the lake’s expanding depth displaced and shifted, following the tremendous groove carved out by His movements.

Transcendental wonder bloomed within every mortal heart, the ephemeral constraints of constancy temporarily lost to a strange and sudden surge of uttermost potential. With each shift of His fins came a renewed ripple of refreshing fluidity, as if every existing soul were subconsciously stirred by the latent change that this fundament of reality worked upon the realm.

A streak of alabaster light charged forth from the depths of Kaj’s now defunct prison, spilling out over the Divine violence like a blinding shroud.

Gleaming wards of pure divinity suddenly locked into place around Omei and Ethne both, barring Death and Earth’s killing strokes. The two divine assailants looked up, Their twin gazes greeted by the calescent silhouette of the Lord of Truth. Empowered by the essence found within the prison, the Unbound Lord leapt into battle without delay and ancient Kaj seized upon the opportunity to continue His escape. The soil gave way with one last lash of His whisker, sending chunks of stone flying through the air as Damariel closed in upon Ivoln. With the land’s resistance quelled, Accordant Water streamed forth in the most literal of senses. Water coalesced all around Him, filling the channel He continued to dig through the continent as He took flight from the carnage at His fin-decorated back.

Unwilling to allow the escape of the piscine once-prisoner, Incarnate Earth turned His unyielding gaze towards the new river carving through His rugged domain. He hefted His fists and slammed them downward upon the ground with a wordless roar, His Immortal influence coaxing tectonic catastrophe from the deepest veins of the realm. The earth shuddered in response to mighty Ivoln’s demand and acquiesced in the next breath, a colossal wall of stone arising as a dam that threatened to curtail Kaj’s escape. Fluid and graceful, the Child bounded out of His seething waters and spun through the air. His whiskers once more twisted and flailed, shattering Ivoln’s would-be impediment in an explosive outpouring of rubble that became mere river rocks ‘neath the force of His continued elusion. Touching back down into the water, Accordant Water raced towards the eastern seaboard amidst the sing-song of babbling brooks and mighty streams.

Seizing upon Ivoln’s distraction, Damariel unleashed a cataclysmic tide of wrathful light from one outstretched hand. Icy judgement served as Truth’s mask, His demeanour belying the solar retribution He turned upon the Earthen Father as unrelenting castigation. Too late to escape the violent surge of Truth’s bolstered power, the Master of War threw His hands up to form a bulwark of glistening bone. The osseous aegis chipped away and scattered to dust beneath Damariel’s insistent wrath, leaving Ivoln to the merciless rigours of Light’s punishing fire.

As Truth fought Earth and Death, the tinkle of mischievous laughter rippled throughout the realm as a long-forgotten face, hazy in its insubstantiality, peeked out from the ancient prison’s topmost step. Bounding into battle beside a living elder Brother, the ephemeral form of beloved Mirth alighted within the chaos of Damariel’s blistering assault. She swept an ethereal hand as if dancing within whimsy’s throes, an echo of Her lost virtue misdirecting a flare of charnel energy launched by an imperious gesture from the Lord of the Grave.

His greatsword gleaming with torrid essence, Damariel’s martial motions transformed Him into a whirlwind of violence as He advanced upon stoic Dhar. Frigid fog and sweltering light conspired as one to conceal the brilliant carnage of Truth and Death’s duel, fashioning a tactical opening for the Unbound’s allies. Rousing words and heartfelt cheers spoken in the ancient language of Creation then filled the realm as once-Morale’s phantom stirred nightmarish Omei and burning Ethne’s hearts with a whisper of Her forgotten virtue. Lifted in spirit, the two Goddesses arose and cast Their eyes towards the east – towards the rapidly diminishing shape of the fleeing Child.

With one final splash that submerged Him within the choppy tides of the Beryl Sea, Kaj disappeared from sights mortal and Immortal alike, the crystalline waters of the newborn Offspring left to surge and froth and spume in His wake.

~~~

Even as His children warred amongst Themselves within His Creation, Varyan Celestine waged His endless war of usurpation against the enigmatic Eschaton…

Still did these two ancient Makers project Themselves across the sky, Umbrael’s thinning integrity allowing mortals to behold the unknowable terror of cosmic truth. The brutal violence of an argent Creator and His ethereal, nebulaic Counterpart played out in emanations that once more sieged the theatre of mortal minds, impressing imaginings of eldritch verity upon their feeble comprehension.

For every day that passed within His realm, the Celestine beheld a century within the temporary one within His shared custody. Empires rose in His name throughout myriad years, dynasties of god-kings and chosen clerics turning their collective attention to the obliteration of opposing forces and views. The times of bloody warfare had long since departed from their place beneath Varian’s eye, replaced instead by inquisitorial orders that rooted out the last pockets of Eschatonic resistance. He knew these days-yet-years as the moments of His final success, with this world’s end assured as the fuel to start His eternal reign over Aetolia.

Varian spares a glance for His Creation – His Sapience – as a reminder of His motive, aim, and purpose.

What He saw instead was a glimpse of discord and ruin, His silvered serenity giving way to a terrifying rage as He noted a scar cutting through the eastern face of His realm.

With a languid, graceful motion, the Eschaton seized upon this distraction in a mirror of an assault so far below upon the trifling shores of a pointless lake within an equally irrelevant realm. Universal effulgence blossomed within the empty, galactic silhouette of the enigmatic Being as It reached within the world It shared dominion over. An ethereal symphony greeted the motions of that miniature reality’s twin Maker, Creation’s fabric rippling and shifting to heed the tranquil impression of Eschatonic will. Fomented by the detached grace of an unfeeling Creator, prophesied floods crashed across the face of Their cosmic arena. Populations found themselves displaced by natural disaster, hardship and travel bringing with them plagues and violence that planted the seed of doubt within mortal multitudes.

The backbone of the Celestine’s faith crumbled – and with it, the empires in His name.

Cracking at its primal seams, the world-within-a-world suffered yet still in the throes of Divine violence. Though its peoples seemed utterly oblivious to the approaching hour of reckoning, mortals experienced subconscious lances of dread lances as they registered the rapidly approaching end of this pocket realm’s lifespan. Serenity found its promised place upon Varyan’s expression as He returned His attention to His own fight, His rightful realm once more reduced to an inspiring memory.

~~~

Back upon Sapience, a whirlpool manifested upon the otherwise calm surface of Green Lake. A tremendous tidespout arose and arced downward upon its shores and from the parting mists emerged dauntless Slyphe, Audacity clutched in Their grasp. They advanced upon Ivoln with cutlass held high, its cutting edge meeting Earth’s upraised fist as He rose from the smouldering embers to fight once more. Stolid Earth and heroic Water exchanged blows to the tune of Mirth’s whooping cheers, Her last laugh causing Her shadowy simulacrum to dissolve into naught. Twin gateways of green fire slice through those fading wisps of Her temporarily revitalised essence, allowing for Haern and Chakrasul’s arrival.

Jade fire and saccharine smoke swirl at Corrupted Might’s behest as She directed treacherous tides of Her wroth essence, their dreaded brilliance converging upon Omei. Diverging from Chakrasul, Haern hefted two wargauntlet-clad fists and singled out Ethne with one hawkish glare, a series of feral blows crashing down upon Her as Immortal Life closed distance with a predatory pounce. Chaos reigned upon Green Lake’s shores as vicious deicide seemed inevitable, until a commanding voice cut through the din:

“This madness must be stopped. Damariel has shown that He is beyond redemption, beyond forgiveness for His treachery. Enough,” declared the Warlord – and soon, He took the field. A shimmering, silvery gateway bursts open upon the lake’s shores, clearing the way for Bamathis, chosen enforcer of the Celestine’s will, to charge forward towards Damariel. Thrusting Caelestis forward, Strife batted aside Truth’s blade before it could meet Dhar’s hazy, ephemeral form. Unified in purpose, the Warlord and Underking alike pressed the assault, putting the Unbound upon the defensive in spite of His recent empowerment.

Then, an umbral tide crept across the firmament akin to spilled ink – a sure sign of the unmistakable movements of the Artificer.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 25th of Chakros, in the year 512 MA.