Unbound

Tooth and flame.

Riot and ruin.

There was a cold so devastating it was like an inferno. A heaving wave overcame Felix, drowning him in it. He tumbled away from the Whalemaw’s flesh, and the wings upon his back dissolved in rivers of languid light.

What—Felix had no voice, but his Mind screamed. What are you?

System Inquiry.

The voice was calm, but it overpowered the cold. Warmth spread through Felix, tingling in his extremities.

A force opposed it, something too vast for Felix to understand. It quaked the unraveling world, spitting vitriol through the shining white blankness that peaked through reality.

Objection Noted.Rejected.

Inquiry Accepted.

Memory Accessed.

Bear Witness, Scion.

The world that was…shattered.

The world was remade.

It clung to him. Dull and drab, as if something had stolen the sharpened edge of things.

He stood upon a hard surface, but it was indistinct and barely defined. A dream of a dream, rife with patches too unstable to consider real at all. He put a paw to his head—paw? He blinked. It was a hand. A claw. A fin. Felix, Pit, or Whalemaw—the distinctions were fuzzy. Meaningless. The longer he thought on it, the less it made sense.

Words without sound rolled through him, a song of silence that grew faster by the moment.

Identity vanished. He was no longer anything.

He watched.

The world moved, shifting at speed along with the silence. It was a rushing wind, too loud to sing, and the roll of earth that was too slow to even whisper. The Continent spread before him, outlined in those same desaturated colors, like a painting in sepia tones brought to hazy reality.

He soared above it, a patchwork of places that looked far different than the maps either Felix or Pit had come to know. Unspoken words rolled through his awareness.

The War Between The Nym And The Divine Had Lasted For Millennia.

The voice had no timbre or tone, only a deepness that rattled his soul. A rumbling, raspy texture threatened to gnaw the edges of his awareness.

Mana Defined The World, And Authority Secured It.

But Never For Long.

Felix shook, and he wasn't sure if it was him, Pit, or the Whalemaw that felt it worse.

No Matter How The Wretched Nym Protected Themselves, The Divine Found A Way In. Righteous Defeat Hounded The Tarnished Empire Without Rest, For We Required None. The Gates Of Hevaan Fell. Naevis Burned. Aeon Was Crushed Beneath The Heel Of Its Rightful Masters. Cities That Had Stood Through Flood And Famine Collapsed Beneath The Might Of True Authority.

Even The Servants Of The Divine Were Too Much For The Empire, And Blood Ran Rampant Across The Continent. The Nym Could Stem The Tide, But Never Once Had They Managed To Stop It.

They Grew Desperate.

Desperate Enough To Risk Everything.

The vision around him zoomed closer, to the back of a walking beast. Etrionn. A city unlike any other clung to its back, more vast than any he’d seen, Ruined or otherwise. The entirety of Etrionn was filled by it, with palaces stacked upon colonnades, domed spires set over manmade lakes, and communal gardens spread through the grand estates of even the simplest of citizens.

In The Empire’s Final, Pitiful Days, They Hatched A Vile Plan.

The Family Ssev Found The Bones Of It, Hidden Away In Their Ancestor’s Cursed Journal. A Creation Of Lhlel, The Nym That Perished Beneath Shelim And Colluded With The Mad Merodach.

The Archon. The world itself shook along with that single, cogent thought.

The Fool Lhel Had Made A Great Many Notes Upon The Array That Summoned Their Pet Unbound. A Vile Tradition. The Family Ssev Decoded Her Notes, And Hidden Within Them Was A Cipher. Within They Found A New Formation. An Opposing One.

The Banishment Array.

The world—the Memory—shook again, quivering as static and discolored artifacts of light crisscrossed the world. The images skipped ahead.

Screams.

He hadn’t a clue whether they belonged to him or not. There was a flash of teeth, thousands of them riddling the world as if he stood inside an open maw.

It vanished.

The skies had darkened as the moons rose. They gleamed with a familiar power that flowed unchecked across the land. Divinities, trapped but far more present.

Felix bristled. The Memory quivered, bending away from him before snapping back.

The Divine’s Spies Heard Of The Array, But They Could Not Stop It. For All Their Faults, The Nym Had Learned Their Lessons Well.

It Was Protected. The Herald And Her Elysians Were Fueling It Themselves.

I Proposed A Solution.

A moon lifted above the horizon. It was one he’d never seen, stained rust red, save for its crown where striations of gold dripped toward its equator. It rose above the others, ascending past dark bronze, shining silver, and even the doubled blue of the Twins’ moons. The voice rolled out heavier, a violence cutting at the edge of its consonants.

A Plan Was Proposed. To Change. To Become More Than A Divine.

Reborn Anew.

Clouds gathered in the sky, pouring across the land as storms tormented the Continent far below.

Yet To Remake, One Must First Perish.

The moons gathered, spreading across the heavens in strange patterns Felix had never witnessed. Eight of them arrayed around the gold-capped moon, and in the faint light of the stars, he saw them. Chains. Brilliant and strong, they strapped the moons together, binding them to one another, no matter the distance they traveled across the vault of heaven.

To Kill A God Is Not So Easy—To Kill Oneself Is Impossible. All Of Us Were Equal In Power. It Required All Of Us.

The Coward In White Refused.

The Memory shifted. In a place that was not a place, where the sky was dead and the land broken, a man with golden teeth waved, slashing the flat of his hand through the air. It howled, cutting apart a hillock with just that simple gesture.

The Plan Is Too Fraught, Avet protested. Chaos Gilds My Coffers, Yet I Cannot Condone This.

It Will Fail Without All Of Us, Brother. A crimson-haired figure, bearded and built like a mountain that had come to life, stomped his foot. The Deadlands shook. Find The Coward And Convince Him. No Matter The Cost.

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Felix had seen this god before. The unnamed ninth.

Siva frowned. You Are Not Being Asked To Sacrifice Your Power—

I Give Up My Life! the redheaded god growled. Ashen earth vibrated around their unnatural, twisted forms. You Break Off Only A Small Portion Of Your Might, Sister.

It Is A Sacrifice For All Of Us, Avet interjected. The gold-toothed god looked the most normal out of all of the gods. He was vaguely humanoid, save for his chest, which was shaped of congealed flame and skittering shapes that resembled insects. Myrrd. Lord Of Destruction. You Would Have Us Give Up Pieces Of Power—Of Ourselves—And We Still Do Not Know If This Will Work.

It Will Work, Myrrd said with a heavy finality. The other gods came close, watching the interaction with expressions Felix could not parse. Their unnatural forms were pulled inward, almost dragged toward the redheaded god, as if he produced his own unique gravity. The Coward Trusts You, Avet. Bring Eredon Here, To Us, And He Will Repay What Is Due.

Avet snarled at his family before turning, vanishing from the Deadlands.

The Memory flickered again, falling to darkness.

Avet Did Not Agree With Our Plan. Felix now knew who was speaking. Myyrd, the god of destruction, purred into his ears. But, Like Eredon, Avet Was A Coward. He Knew The Only Hope To Preserve His Power Was To Find The Betrayer.

And So He Did.

Felix’s position over the Continent changed. Now he beheld a series of deep valleys, each one surmounted by mountains greater than any Felix had seen before.

The Coward In White Ruled Over A Simple Valley. A Civilization Thrived There, In That Distant Land, Basking In The False Light Of The Fallen Sun. Disdain dripped from Myrrd’s voice, so thick Felix expected it to spatter against the ground. He Dimmed His Power To Hide From Us, Those He Condemned To Rot In The Deadlands…But The Song Of His Order Could Not Be Disguised. Avet Could Always Feel Him, Like A Wound In His Side. He Was Anathema To Chaos.

The gold-toothed god of chaos and flame stood amid frosted peaks, staring down the fair-haired and handsome Eredon. Join Us This Once, Brother.

Eredon lifted his chin. What Of Retribution?

You Will Remain Free. None Can Change That.

Not If I’m Dead!

None Will Kill You, Avet said, and his flames swelled to his words. I Swear It.

A Bargain? From You? Eredon laughed. It was a sweet sound. I’m To Trust You?

You’ve Run Out Of All Others. Avet extended his clawed hand. It was half skeletal, wrapped in flames that were cool to the touch. Prove To Them That You Still Care. Save Us From This Banishment.

Save Yourself.

A beautifully formed hand clasped the claw of flame. Eredon, the Coward in White, agreed. With stipulations: he would offer up fully half of his power to the working, to prove his intentions to his siblings…but only if Avet did the same.

An Unbalancing Of The Divine. The Chaos Such A Sacrifice Would Enact… Avet licked his lips.

Eredon smiled, his face all the more handsome for his perfect teeth. I Thought That Would Entice You. Order Will Be Overturned By Myrrd’s Working. This Would Ensure It.

It Would Weaken You.

Yes.

And Strengthen Me.

Yes.

Avet raised an eyebrow. You Have Grown Wise, Little Brother. He shook Eredon’s hand again. A Bargain Made And Thrice Agreed.

Thrice Accepted.

This is wrong. The thought sent static across the handshake of the gods. Something is off. Avet. Pathless isn’t—Where am I?

Felix lurched, and the Memory changed.

In The Heavens, The Moons Gathered.

In The Deadlands, We Stood Amongst One Another. Complete Once More.

The gods in all their heinous glory stood upon ashen fields beneath deadened skies, and one by one, they lifted their arms. Chains trailed from them, visible here as nowhere else, heavy and brutal despite their gold-clad form. Power gathered between them, hanging around their heads like halos.

I Was Ready.

Myrrd sat at the center, his mountainous Body laid out as if he’d already died. Arranged around him was a scrawled insanity Felix couldn’t even bear to look upon, set with offal, bones, and shapes too alien to make any sort of sense.

One After The Other, We Gave Our Offering.

The gods thrust their own hands into their chests. Ichor spewed, thick and thin, pale and opaque, burning or frosted. Claws and hands searched through corporeal meat, clasping at the treasure they each held secret in their centers. With a sickening crunch, the Twins pulled a piece of shimmering light free. Siva followed, as did Noctis and Yyero, until it was Avet’s turn.

He took out a brilliant piece far brighter than the rest, gasping in delirious pain. He set it down in the ash, beside the rest.

Myrrd’s chains rattled, and his Body shuddered through spasms hard enough to drive his heels through the crust of the earth. Mountains crumbled, and ash blew away on burning winds, but the pieces of power held fast. Anchored by their mighty significance.

Now, Brother! Avet called. The Final Piece!

Myrrd screamed, back arching on the broken earth. A mighty swirl of power gathered in the Deadlands, more potency than Felix believed could exist in that empty place. A column ascended, lifting the god of destruction upon its currents, and unimaginable things swarmed in the shadow he cast. Horrors that strained the edge of credulity, bending Felix’s Mind toward the brink. He tore his eyes away, just in time to see it.

The betrayal.

Eredon had vanished, his spot in the line populated only by footprints made of liquid, golden radiance.

Eredon Fled Without Promising A Single Piece Of Himself. The God Of The Sun, Order, And Courage Ran From The Deadlands, Escaping Once More Into The Corporeal.

Avet Was Left On The Hook, And His Half-Core Was Already Subsumed In My Still-Living Flesh.

BROTHER! Avet howled, face twisted in a snarl. Outrage and horror was writ large across his Spirit, and the Divine only laughed.

The Working Crippled A Divine, Yyero said in a snide, oily voice. Now It Will Surely Work. Thank You For Your Sacrifice, Brother!

The column of horrors pulsed. Burst.

Avet Screamed. I Died.

Power tore across the world, howling for an outlet into the Corporeal. It eked through their skies, a storm that swept from the clear east. Waves shook the mortal shores, cities drowned in heartbeats, and lightning carved fires into drought-wracked forests.

Moments Too Late, The Wretched Nym Sang Their Vile Song.

Beautiful and terrible, a melody stretched across Felix’s Affinity. It plucked at him, at everything, possessed of an Authority over the Corporeal itself. He couldn’t begin to parse it—it was too large to encompass even with his Mind—but it didn’t need his understanding. It washed across the Realms, flowing through every nook and cranny, until it found its way into the Deadlands themselves.

To the gods.

It Touched None Of Us.

It Failed—And In Its Wake, My Flesh Was Remade.

It Subsumed Into Itself, Drawn From Tendon And Fat, Rendered Down Into Sickly Clouds Of Pure Destruction.

I Died.

And Then I Lived.

Once A God, Now So Much More. I Was Power, the voice cooed, savage and maddened. I Was Obliteration! My Form Was Gone, But My Mind Reigned Over My New Glory.

My Siblings Did Not See It That Way.

It Is Not My Fault That They Were Too Close. They Should Have Known To Stand Away From Oblivion Itself.

The Memory flickered, showing only flashes of conflict, but enough to tell a story. He witnessed the Divine set upon by a burning shadow of flame. They fled, Bodies scoured or worse, and the once-god gave chase. It was a veil of purple-black flame, so profoundly unlike fire that it flowed like water and air.

It whirled outward, chasing after the diminished Divine. They could do little more than fend it off, driving it through a rent in the Deadlands, the one they were forbidden from stepping across. As if smelling a fine meal, Myrrd slipped through the rift and into the Corporeal Realm.

The Ruin was born.

It poured from the sky like a deluge of unending judgment, ravaging the Continent. It poured across the land, ripping apart civilizations brick by brick, and eradicating whole peoples in an instant—their Spirits, Bodies, and their Minds. The first Lost.

Slowly but surely, it spread across the entirety of the northern Continent. The Nym and their Golden Empire was razed clean.

Insatiable, the Ruin turned south. Ponderous and slow, it was still faster than even the speediest of Manaships, and soon it towered over the mountains, chasms, and once-fertile valleys beyond the Empire’s borders. All was obliterated where it touched down.

Felix lost track of time. The horror that welled up in him watching the Ruin was so complete it made seconds stretch into indeterminate hours. At some point, however, golden lines began to prickle across its dark expanse.

The Compact?

It sang automatically, a response from the depths of the System itself. Felix watched the sigaldry flow across the world, flickering upward into the Ruin’s hardened center. It seized it, binding it in a series of cascading inscriptions that was familiar to Felix. It was not held in the way of the gods; there were no chains, no moon. The Ruin was not Divine, nor was it Unbound, not any longer. From the song Felix heard, it was barely considered alive.

Yet it persisted.

There were no words from Myrrd—the Ruin—not anymore. Instead, there was only the crescendo of swelling orchestral strings and resounding brass that pushed at the Ruin’s ineffable shape. It could not kill it, but it could send it away.

The Ruin vanished, driven out beyond the Void and into the vast expanse between Realms, held at arm’s length until it would return.

As inevitable as death itself.