Secret History Scripture: War
There was always a war. There was never a time of peace, but our lord always stood above all at the peak.
Let it be known from sea and land to sky—our lord is the one who rules, that cannot be defied.
Yet time and time again they come, assuming our lord could be undone. It is why we devote ourselves anew, so that all know they will lose.
Remember and pray, for our lord is with you—but only for those who choose his mercy.
—Thirteenth passage from the Seer Nora
The Dark Goddess did not feel victory had taken place. No—she knew well this was only the start of more to come. She surveyed the ruin of the castle and felt grateful it was not worse. Their blasts had scorched areas of the city, and she felt the essence of random souls now flowing within the walls, one with the darkness.
So it was not a clean win, but the losses were at a minimum. It would have to be enough.
She flew down to where she felt Luma, the first of Abaddon's children. She wanted to comfort him and all of Abaddon's children—they were among his first creations. But she had lived for eons and seen the life and death of countless drow. To her, they were just another set of faces, though she would not be so callous to his creations without purpose.
When she appeared before them, they knew something had taken place. Her being there was wrong—it meant their father was gone, at least as they understood it. It was why she could not stay. She was now a stain upon their father's memory, not the guardian keeping his soul safe.
"Your father needs time to heal, but he is not lost, nor are any of you. But I must go. I'm sorry, little ones, but this is beyond you."
She was not sure how his other people or minions fared, nor was it her immediate concern. The Light Goddess was fickle in how long she would wait. Her memories were fragmented from trying to save Abaddon—not once, but twice. She knew him before, when he was the Light Goddess's champion, and now as... her champion?
No, perhaps that was not right. She would be no different than the Light Goddess, laying claim. She felt he was someone she admired, perhaps even loved, but it was too soon. They were too bound by necessity and control for either to truly know how they felt. He needed time, as did she. And her sister needed her.
How long had she been gone among the rot lands? How long had she been lost in that sea of broken memories, only fragments of time remaining? Within them, the strongest memory was finding Abaddon and naming him... She felt that name now. She had felt it when he was regaining his old self. She knew him a little more now, albeit slightly.
The children were crying. Even without tears, their souls wept. They wanted their father back, wanted their old lives returned—free to play. She felt, even among the shadows, their prayers to Abaddon to make this all better as he had done before.
It was too much. She fled before they could see her own tears fall like rain. Curse the Light Goddess for doing such things to them, to him, just as he was finding peace. But that was the cruelty of their kind when left in power. She and her sister had both agreed to stay out of mortal lives unless it meant annihilation—anything less would lead down the same path the Light Goddess had taken.
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The disiasnt out of the rotlands was vast and ezria grew warry of walking step growing heavy with each placemnt that took him further from his lord he was free and nothing with no purpouse and hated it.
A nuge from the great beast did not soothe him only sour hm more it wrapped him in tenitcalls and put him on it massive back and kept walking forward as if nothing change….
Was it tierd of his slow pace or perhaps it pathiac way of comformitng him now they both had no worth….
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Did it matter neither had a place…. Yet as the forest loom closer in the distanst a revaltion struck him and made him luagh in glee.
The beast paused unsure what was happening but slowly lunbering on once more perpahs only knowing it was meant to keep moving forward and trying to follow it lord desire for them to be free and wandering.
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But ezra new better this wast the abaddonment he feared no it was opuertiany to prove thier worth to grow thier lord power the very same thing he long from the being .
It was a test what do you do when I set you free are you still loyal to me.
You are wise lord I will not let you down you knewn what would await me I will make you proud you will see,
He looked down at the lumbering beast carrying him perhpas he will be worthy of a name ifhe helps him we will see mabye that was the lord gift to me to allow me to choose also who can be worthy.
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The distance traveled was vast, but nothing barred his way. Even the rot deep within these lands—so high they formed mountains in a sea of decay—parted for him. He went to seemingly empty land beneath the rot, and the dirt broke away, revealing a cave. Deeper still he went into the seeming abyss as lights bloomed for the first time in eons.
He smiled. His creations still worked—such novel things, these mana lights. Just little essence blooms, but such wonderful inventions. Deeper still he went, annoyed at the state of the laboratory. So much rot, dissolved and melted into slag. His rot at the start had been too strong. He needed a new lab, new materials to start his craft. Lucky that time had not eroded his mind—only his old rot body. But this new flesh... this will do nicely.He flexed his fingers, still enjoying the feel of touch with flesh versus the body that had been a sea of rot.
"Hmm." He paused for a moment, sensing a faint life within him, within his mind. "Row, was it? I can feel your thoughts faintly. Work with me, and I'll have no need to contest you for this flesh. This is just a body to me—as inconvenient to me as it is to you."
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The Monster God was walking the rot lands, trying to sense the life and feeling of another god he sensed growing in this direction, when he paused. "Ooooh, a battle!" He had wanted to reach it, but the fight was brief. By the time he sensed and admired it, it had faded. "Bah, a squabble, unworthy. I want more, and I still need to find the others."
Yet he paused.
"Hmm, maybe later I will see what sparked that feud. Could be interesting." He wandered once more, searching for the faint traces of gods among the rot.
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The Nature Goddess was deep within an ancient tree, sleeping through twisted dreams of a past long since lost. Her sister was there with her, both free before the end, before it all fell apart.
It was the closest they had come to a council with all agreeing. The War God—who they saw as nothing but a beast, a Monster God—was excluded. The naive thing was always chasing goddesses for battle, and they feared revealing where they were.
The Light Goddess, proud but fair, usually kept him busy. Her sister—who was her pride, the other side of herself—and the God of Knowledge were there, constantly seeking new things. They were arguing even then: letting mortals gain power could be dangerous if they learned how to blend magic and... "technology," he liked to call it. It would be folly.
The Light Goddess agreed, so it was three to one, and he was forced to concede. The Light Goddess agreed to keep the Monster God away in exchange for tribute, which allowed her and her sister to focus on spreading nature and letting their people be free. It was good.
Yet that was where the dream always shifted, turning into the nightmare it always seemed to become. The God of Knowledge failed, as they knew he would, playing with power beyond him. He faded into rot—death was too good for him.
Yet somehow, he ended up killing her sister in the process, in an unknown way, for she was not there. All she knew was that her sister was gone, and so was she. She went deep into the heart of their forest, found a place near the lake so she would always have a clearing to see the moonlight in memory of what she had lost, and buried herself in the dirt. She became a tree, grew with time, indifferent to all, and dreamed.
Some dreams were kind—the fairer times, full of life. Others were crueler, reminding her of what she had lost and that nothing good could come again. She hated this life and the slow time that passed, but there was nothing else to be.
"You became a mighty tree, sister. It seems you're doing well." A gentle voice she had long since missed spoke to her through the dream. Yet... a touch upon her bark, a warmth she had not known in what seemed an eternity.
Odd. Since when had dreams become so cruel that her mind now shaped the feelings she desired most?
"Do not stir too quickly for me, sister. I fear you may break in that form." The voice spoke gently, with mirth? She would not think to desire her sister to say such things.
Would she?
Fear mixed with hope. She hated changing form—this one was meant only to gather power, and power she had gathered. The eons of loneliness and no desire to spend it had allowed her to accumulate a vast amount. She knew not what had happened with her people, nor did she care. As cruel as that sounded, she had lost her sister.
Yet even as her form slowly shifted to that of an elf, she could not move—the roots still buried beneath her feet. Even as the upper half was whole, she tried to focus her eyes, but what greeted her was not the forest but a sea of darkness.
Soft flesh of shadows pressed upon her face. "I missed you, sister."
Shock was all she could feel. This was the cruelest dream, being so real, but she could not let it go. She could not look away, even as her eyes were open and buried in her sister's chest, hearing a beating heart, smelling the night, feeling... hope?
"Sister?" she croaked in a whisper, unable to speak in a normal voice.
"Ah, I was worried you were stuck too long. Even your voice is broken."
"No..." She denied it, unable to believe. "No, no, no." She could not stop repeating it, even as she gripped tighter. It was too much. Was this a trick, her mind finally breaking?
"Shh, it's okay. It just took me time, but I'm home. And I have need of you, sister. Like old times—nothing's changed. Well, that's a lie, I suppose. A lot has changed."
A wail with a broken voice, and tears flowed free. She was home, and she had found her. She had believed gods could truly die. She had never dared to hope her sister had survived–––maybe they could die, and she had come close, but she came back. She came back to her.
The events to come would be mixed in a sea of lies—mortals and gods all scheming and playing games, each trying to shape how things would remain. Yet this was just the start of Abaddon's reign.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFBUN5Ez3vT
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