Faust's Arena II

By Doran James

This is Faust's Arena's second installment. Erebos continues his quest to return the soul of Manasa back to her lifeless body. The war between the Dominants reaches its climax, ravaging and pillaging of Elysi becomes rampant, and Shemhazai's search for Godsci is stalled by the awakening of great and terrible cosmic beings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716725265

Book preview

FAUST’S ARENA II

By Doran James

Copyright 2020

Dedicated to Everyone and Everything’s God, and my wife, Ashlan.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Within this sequel, you will realize the depth of spacetime. The characters of the story have long lives, spanning thousands of eons, and even eternity, with the assistance of technological advancements, divine relics, and, quite simply, sheer evolution. As I have mentioned previously, the entire story has a moral ending that is truth. The rest is fictional, definitively. This space opera is not meant to impress or for my leisure. This story is meant to be an article in my legacy that showed who I am in a way that is impartial to others, unique, a fictitious reflection of our values delineated into antagonists and protagonists, each with their own past and desires, the polarizing preliminaries that have been established in the first volume of Faust’s Arena. Many of the characters are indeed immortal in a sense, and are able to outlast the long voyages of spacetime between the galaxies with technologies we can only dream of, or even evolutionary traits that are bestowed unto the divine, far from the likes of human flesh and bone. These beings can trek distances that have to be compacted for scientists to fathom such distances with ease. Others require cryogenic preservation to avoid living through such treks. You will realize in the story that even though the races within the story are highly advance technologically, and are capable of not just interstellar travel, but interdimensional as well, and regardless of these traits, the deep recesses of the universes prove to remain superior. Voyages that would take millions upon millions of eons for us would still take many eons for the characters. A fascinating twist I have incorporated is that the synopsis bases the events of the story in our actual future, only in this version of our future, we never existed this far. We were killed off before the automotive engine was ever invented. Readers of the first, know that the human essence can never be destroyed, even without us to represent it in life. After we are gone, there will be echoes of our triumphs, as well as our sins, across vast depths of space and time. My works are entirely fictitious. Doran James

PROLOGUE

Erebos awakened to the view of an enervating firmament of stars in an opening of flecking bushels of growth, distant beyond the interstices of the dark canopy above him. Elevated amidst the stars and atop the dark clouds above, the planet Elysi’s moon, Grapha, was revealed amongst the celestial bodies during its natural procession of night, in the phase of a glorious full moon. White moonlight flooded down upon Erebos in a long beam reaching down upon the forest floor. He could not recall the exact date, for long ago, his conception of time slipped into purgatory, an aftermath of Shemhazai’s Final Phase of Invasion. After the fiends invaded, everything changed; time was no longer relative, and days stretched into weeks in the blink of an eye. He had been smoking again, to pass the time away in the jungle, fashioning guitars out of wood and walking sleeplessly every night. He was never lost, despite the loss in time, and he was never late to a hunt, for he could feel all that was around him, though he had lost his appetite and sense of taste entirely. The weightless orb within his satchel of endless space was still punishing to possess, even within the bag designed to eliminate mass and conceal energies. It weighed him down by its influence rather than its mass, generating a fatigue and recurring seizures. 

Oh… my head! He groaned and grated as his fingers delicately grazed a painful gash upon his forehead, This was not the weed.

You took a bad fall. A female’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, a gentle, squeaky voice that he had come to know as his mother’s voice. You are developing symptoms of the Necrom’s influence. It did not assist in the aching pain induced at a forgotten time in the past, for the voice was coming from the distant and unforeseeable future, nevertheless, it gave him comfort to know that he was not alone in the fiend infested forests of the Biruum. His Mother, a night goddess of many names, was trapped within an entirely foreign realm, condemned there for reasons not known by Erebos, and he chose not to ask, for the only thing that ruled his mind was Manasa. Manasa, and the fact that he could not remember the past several cycles for the life of him. He peered into the surrounding forest, and as his discernment of shapes returned, he became bewildered.

How did I get this close to Zekket? He questioned back to the voice from deep within his mind. Death ships are stationed there. I cannot go there.

You are here to survey. The voice replied, You are losing your sense of time. A symptom that sentience experiences when it has subjected itself to the Oxy Necrom.

How exactly did I circumvent to the Biruum without any memory of such a far voyage? Erebos questioned to the open air, for the entity that haunted his conscience had yet to reveal herself, if she was in fact a female, predominantly. The greenery of the forest harbored the activity of dwellers in the night, and the creatures resounded with calls to the moon above. We must be in the territory of the Siren tribes. Erebos revered and trudged onward through the thick vines rising from the forest floor. He acknowledged the flourishing pads of Duiredrun as he hastily continued; the azure lilies that served as a marker the destination of the Southwestern villages of the Sirens. Many assumed to be already dead when gazing upon the Duiredrun, for the Sirenfolk were territorial and highly skilled at hunting and psychic warfare. My father has made the Sirens enemies of the Pentacles. Well, my Elysian father. Erebos turned around to see a river leading northeast of Ganturun Ridge, Heaman’s River, where beyond the cliffs and basins resided the lake of his destination.

My father has corrupted the whole of the Multiverse, so as you can imagine, it is no tedious task for politicians to defile the Pentacular courts with overzealous bigotry and shackling hypocrisy; the way Shamhazai has done to the entirety of spacetime. Lilith returned in the mind of the wandering exile.

The Primodigm was to blame for his power. Erebos thought in reply, Without it, he is the same as the rest of us.

The courts have been corrupted as long as the Vrskans have held the banners atop the great tower, it is just a different face of corruption now. Lilith spoke, "Democracy is corruption under the guise of liberty. We Lilithians knew long ago to never establish power in

constituency."

Vrskans! Beauty without graciousness. Erebos murmured.

They are dancers without partners. Lilith softly spoke with a gentle sigh, We are watching their world burn. The warrior was silent in step, as he conversed with his mother in his mind. The growth before him was relentless against his sword; no matter how effective the blade was, there was more growth to be cut down beyond the blades that had fallen. Green, luscious plants budding flowers of iridescence surrounded him and encompassed him from above. Many of the vines produced bioluminescent fruits, delectable and filled with centers of sloshing juices. Even with aromas of the ripe fruits, Erebos shuddered at the thought of eating anything. They wobbled as vines were smitten, and Erebos did not hesitate to collect them. Erebos considered using the Oxy Necrom to wipe the growth completely out of existence and declined as an act of conservation.

You have seen how irresponsible and neglectfully audacious the Vrskans have been for the eons past, have you not? Lilith queried, They are an ancient race, more ancient than the runaway race your people have termed as the ‘humans’. There is no doubt that the Vrskans would be gods in the eyes of the mortal infestation birthed from its own apocalypse. A race directly from the Creator, your Lilithian bloodline, but they are far below the superior Lilithians and yet still pious. Denying the actuality of our existence and calling themselves ‘divine.' Erebos arrived at the Eastern banks Heaman’s River, where exotic winged fish skipped across the surface and lilypads with the diameters of several meters glowed bioluminescent light in the fervent waters. He approached and watched as the fish skipped, wondering if he would have had the time to be able to capture them and fuel the Oxy Necrom with their souls. He shrugged and moved on, knowing that the region was too dangerous to idle oneself within.

A Nephitian king from each region is searching for me, one ruling the last of the captured Vrskans. Erebos said from within his mind, Shemhazai has put a bounty on my head. There are whispers of ancient fire calling from the West.

You have the Oxy Necrom, the queen of darkness said, you will hear that which cannot be heard, and soon, you will see that which is never shown.  So, Succubus died giving birth to you with Chaos magic, since she could not give birth on her own. Erebos began to wade across the waters, cool and swift around his ankles, That does not explain why you are not Nephitian if you were conceived by Succubus. That would not make us Nephitians? Stones brushed past his boots in the current, and in the deeper drop-off, maroon-colored fish swarmed just meters beneath his feet, some of which were not friendly and keen to the sense of smell beneath the rivers. "I heard something about a spell she learned from three witch sisters, the ones who gave their lives for the Primodigm

to rise."

"It is true that Succubus entered

Chaos and Chaos gave her a child. Lilith replied, But how can the manifestation of nothingness be related to anything? Erebos understood immediately what she meant. The witch sisters were midwives and cared for Succubus until her death, shortly after conceiving me. Her Nephitian body could not withstand the insemination of darkness. I… am partially the reason why the witch sisters discovered ‘Gazing

Balls.'" Erebos felt a sense of peculiarity.

"I am your son, and the

Forgemaster was the Lilithian emperor, and my father. Erebos clarified as he paddled his arms and kicked his feet out simultaneously. He had crossed the middle of the river. That makes me the heir of a dynasty."

Yes, my son, Lilith replied,

we've discussed this many times.

You know I have never even seen what a Lilithian even looks like. Erebos ranted, grunting as he arrived at the muddy banks of the other side, where more growth awaited hacking. His boots were lost somewhere behind him, in the ever-shifting muck. The smell of dead animals rose up from the surface at Erebos’ waistline, and he had begun to hold his sheathed claymore above the top of his head.

You know what they look like.

Lilith said, You have unleashed yourself before, to defeat many foes. The smell became unbearable to the warrior, proving to be the only true weakness to the warrior. The smell of animals that had been lost within the slosh, asphyxiating at some point in the limbo of sludge, was infamous enough, yet still, it did not compare to the smell of burning corpses from the Siren tribes that resisted until the end.

This awful stench, Erebos growled out loud, and the noises of the night came to a brief cease. Erebos reverted to silence, peering through the night and veering in the darkness. "My father tried to save me, but

Shemhazai killed him?"

Yes, my son! He came for you. I did not know he was en route to save you. Lilith explained, His ship hit a critical stage, and his entire crew was killed, and he managed to survive long enough to reach the heart of Hebudomos, but he had fallen to the blade known as Desideratum. Erebos fell silent in mind and body and reflected as he entered the banks of the other side of the river, exiting to areas of forest that were far less thick with growth. He was drenched from head to boot in mud, His long, brownish-black hair and prominent beard matted by soil. Luckily, the Oxy Necrom was able to clean Erebos almost immediately in response to his will.

11A.

Space was and forever shall remain a vast and empty mystery; an orchestra of finely tuned threads, materialized and dematerialized modes of existence stretching onward. Space was essentially baryonic cocoons filled with galactic structures and realities across an eleven-dimensional hyperspace. It is, was, and forever shall remain as an ocean of infinite chaos, and the bubbles betwixt are our arenas of existential bounds. When a sentient race attempts to break from the physical gravitation that oppresses their destiny, be it evolutionary or spiritual progression, the race will inevitably come together in a unified understanding to survive, for the freewill of all sentience strives for a future of superior precedence. We know not of our futures. Our race may realize cybernetic singularity, and quite possibly, our extraterrestrial watchers will guide us to become a greater eminence than we could ever achieve alone. In our current conditions within the societies of man, we will not be able to break free of the many chains we have chosen, as a species of many multitudes, to have allowed ourselves to submit our destinies to. The chains of poverty and violence, and the sociopolitical vanities that fuel such atrocities. Hatred and greed have suppressed and oppressed mankind for too long and many voices cry out to annihilate the beasts of liars, the harlots of lust and greed that uphold the treasures of Mammon. Our people could strive for a better and healthier future, one of wondrous science and the voyage of the final frontier we have come to know as space. Instead, we would rather fornicate our days away with the pleasures of our dying planet, inwardly casting illusions of self-worth, a symptom of abiding social dogma. All that should matter to each human is the succession of noble family heritage and the dedication to the unexplored frontiers of science, or our race will most assuredly fall victim to the idiocracy effect as time persists us.

THE ARENA

CHAPTER I

Shemhazai knew that infinity held its secrets. He knew that there surely would be more Dominants out there, more intelligent life leading the race to divinity. He realized the Lilithians truly existed, and he knew that they would be disturbingly advanced, far beyond what any dweller of the Multiverse could have possibly been able to understand. They were a race kept secret for billions of eons, long enough for the race to go missing in the depths of the abysmal Chaos that lied beyond existence itself. They had disappeared without a trace, until Isho the White discovered the first of the many ancient Lilithian stones atop secluded mountainsides of countless terrestrial planets, across every distance of star systems and galaxies, in any and every world where one could roam. The floating castle Hebudomos was capable of attaching itself to the mainframe of an equatorial coordinate upon any dyson, and with the unlimited supply of energy from stars consumed by the large machine, the emperor was capable of traveling the stars for eternity as the Primodigm would never decrease in power. Earth was a relic left behind in some galaxy, in a vague region of space that had been abandoned, and the human genome was but another section of data strain hidden within the matrix of the Primodigm. It was only logical to the emperor of the Nephitians, that he and his fleets of Death Ships should challenge the mysterious Lilithians. Shemhazai’s confidence in his reverse-engineered spacecrafts was strong enough for him to consider his own dominance over the ones from Chaos.

There was a mesmerizing view atop Belz, as there was a large satellite in the dusky skies, what appeared to be a nearby world, that gleamed against the light from the star opposite of it, revealing that it was in fact a world of metal slowly drifting away. The Creator, a being composed of the purest of light, wearing long robes entirely composed of flame that followed him in a trail behind his steps, was a beacon in the cloud-cover of Elysi’s overcast sky. The city of Uvera was not the same anymore, now being composed of large structures of metal and stone that shifted around the tower in a circular fashion. Vrskan architecture were blended components of the fray. The Creator stood and watched the city Shemhazai erected over the old one, and from the pillars of the colonnaded top of Belz, he witnessed from above as the dyson inched closer to the star in the Northern skies of the tower.

Elysi shall receive the cleansing that the Earth was privileged to endure. Shemhazai’s solemn voice was deep and sincere as he spoke to his Maker. His skin was the texture finely ground rubies, and white, lunulate horns with black tips that shimmered with the light from the robes of the Creator. Whenever the AllMaker revealed his robes, the torchlights upon the pillars were doused. "The sun shall be consumed as soon as Hebudomos sits at the head of

Ecumenopolis."

You may witness change, but you only alter yourself. Creation is not going to cease as long as you do not possess both the Godsci and the Oxy Necrom together. The Creator spoke with a voice far more resonant than even the intimidating fiend lord Shemhazai’s voice of doom. When the Creator spoke, his voice seemed to come from every direction of the marble floors and pillared edges of the Pentacular throne room. Shemhazai wore a brace across his chest, black leather straps that protruded from a silver breastplate, wielding two swords upon his backside, one of which produced a violet aura, and the other of which produced a cloud of white light surrounding it. The fiend emperor reached his muscular right arm over his silver shoulder-piece, to remove the sleeker white sword from the straps upon his backside. The Creator turned from his gaze upon the large world of metal in the sky, to peer upon the massive cleaver of white. It was a sword that rose almost to Shemhazai’s towering height.

I have Isho the White in the custody of my fiends. It is only a matter of time before the artifacts of Genesis are found and combined. Shemhazai spoke as he released his grip on the white sword, dropping it on the marble floor with a loud clank. He then proceeded to remove the sword emanating violet luminescence. The same way that my Desideratum shall now be united with your sons Buster blade. He fell to his knees, the silver kneepads upon his scarlet legs tapping against the sleek tiles. He began peering down upon the white sword, and thus, he proceeded to remove the Desideratum from his backside. Placing the jagged blade atop the slightly larger and graceful Buster, the fiend emperor released a brilliant surge of power from the uniting of the Tools of Creation. A light emanated from the two swords, and as Shemhazai picked the newly formed weapon up from the hot floor.

Tell me where you are hiding the Godsci, or I will use this to destroy Creation. Shemhazai threatened, I will begin with Elysi. The sword that remained was a thick, jagged Buster, having the size of Isho’s original weapon, and yet being the texture of the Desideratum; black as night, slick as though blood always seeped from its rigid, razor serrations.

If you truly wish to know where Godsci is kept, then follow my steps. The Creator spoke mildly, Do not fall astray, for where we are going, there are dangers and visions you will never understand, if it will not disturb. The entity of purest light waved with his right hand, urging Shemhazai to follow the Creator into a tunnel  adorned by diamonds over its circular archway carved within one of the mighty pillars of the throne room, which had already begun spinning to face the passage toward the two.

I have never seen this.

Shemhazai followed with unease and cautious eyes, scanning the entrance and stone ceiling within the descending tunnel. The Creator’s eminence radiated to reveal ancient hieroglyphic runes that were carved in the ceiling and walls, and as the Creator descended within, his eminence and the runes disappeared in fading gloom. Shemhazai sped his pace slightly until he arrived at the top of the steps. The Creator was visible far below, but only for a moment as he turned into another branch to the tunnel to the right, and yet again his aura fading farther into the depths. Cobwebs followed the breath of a draft, and the distant echoes of droplets from the ceilings was heard from within.

Enter. The Creator’s booming voice echoed out to Shemhazai as if the Creator had only walked but a few paces ahead of the fiend. Shemhazai obeyed, stepping down within the dark passage.

His weapon was glowing with a far milder brilliance than the Creator, though it was enough to light the way for Shemhazai. A burning sensation came over him, and the fiend emperor proceeded to push a crescent-shaped piece of his left gauntlet into chamber that had not been easily visible in the many jagged blades of absolute blackness. His gauntlet’s edges and spikes began to vibrate furiously, growing across Shemhazai’s exposed arms to form a protective layer of red and black metal surrounding his entire form, from the tips of his horns to the tips of his boots.

Oxygen! Shemhazai exclaimed through a deep, artificial rendering of his voice bleating through his helm, violet eyes burning ferociously against the dark oubliette. A loud screech echoed from behind, and as Shemhazai turned to turn around upon the steps, a large wall of stone fell upon the exit from a chamber in the ceiling. Water rushed between the horned emperor’s feet, and within seconds, more fell from a shaft above the exit, causing the fiend to tumble down the steps. Shemhazai attempted to latch onto the walls and steps. The current was too strong to resist long enough to grapple with his gauntlets. He remembered the Creator turned at the bottom, although he had forgotten which way down the intersecting tunnel. It was vague to tell which corridor was which, or how many had passed since he had lost the entirety of his grip to anything, save his Desideratum.

Yes, reality favors the element of eight. It may kill obligately anaerobic organisms during any terrestrial planet’s oxygenation event, it is an agreeable gas for the mammals to breathe, however, the Nephitians are brought to death by it. The rush of water and mud began to disappear as the descending tunnels branched with drainage systems, conveying ducts upon the stony sides of the walls within the maze of tunnels. In the darkness, the trickling and splashing of waters falling somewhere within them dominated the cast of echoes resonating throughout the oubliette. This place is to be prepared for the host of Habitriaz, that he may be delivered over and adjudged to the lowest condemnation, and that his fallen Watchers of Man be overwhelmed with hurled stones, as I, the Lord of Spirits, has commanded. The booming bass of that was the Creator’s voice once again emphatically stated, You take your lungs for granted here upon Elysi, being in the dwelling place of the One Creator, and the radiance of life that smells so sweet in the air. Shemhazai had been idle then, laying about wet stones and sinking mud, mice and water rushing down the walls from holes and crevices and around his dirt-ridden armor. The fiend moaned and groaned as he felt his lunulate horns to assure they had not been broken. Godsci is here, I know your lungs can adapt to sense this. The humans required the third dominant element, Oxygen, to live and walk upon the Earth. You are a privileged race, not being tethered to existence in such ways.

Enough of the trial and tribulation, you know I can destroy this entire tower, Shemhazai spoke between deep respirations, lifting his Desideratum to point down the dark tunnel ahead, I know you cannot interfere with the acts of material beings. Shemhazai brushed his brow against his left arm, his right hoisting the mighty sword. He began to tread through the narrow tunnel, until he arrived at an even narrower region that had been covered entirely by webs. Whatever made the webs were nowhere to be detected.

Within Shemhazai’s helm, his visor gave symbols and illuminated the darkness, and despite the many symbols and flashing images that ran across the rustic orange visor, no sign of life was present.

He began to wade the mighty Desideratum through the thick wall of white webbing, dew drops falling about as many of the strands were sliced away.  I told you, I will show you where it is. Be warned, you will not obtain peace. The Creator said, Wherefore have you forsaken the lofty and holy station, that which endureth forever, and you have fallen with the inferior; defiled yourself with daughters of men; have taken to yourself wives; you have acted like the sons of earth? The Creator accused the emperor, who had arrived at a peculiarly narrower region of the tunnel. Eventually, Shemhazai was forced to continue sideways. You have brought about impious offspring.

I had but one last triumph!

Shemhazai replied with frustration, his own voice nearly deafening him against the narrow walls of stone, I have seen all that is to be seen and I have known all that is to be known. There was one task that I had not achieved. It was the one thing between me and divinity. You have been a witness to your sons and their aspirations. His curved horns were put to the test for their durability in the close quarters.

When a race develops forms of unification on its own volition with compassion for life, it will progress beyond dimensions, the Creator spoke, as fish in a stream must rely on their tail to swim upstream, and if given wings, to escape the water. Shemhazai could barely fit, and the way out was nearing. He followed a moaning draft, and a dim candlelight flickered from a distant wall within. Before him lied a labyrinth of halls and stairs without end, all wedged within a narrow corridor that served as the main pass.

You have built an empire, and my son Isho has sacrificed himself out of vanity, for you slaughtered the sons and daughters of Elysi, a step from Belz Tower, the center ire. The Creator’s voice continued through the foggy draft, following the howling wind. Still, Shemhazai held his soul-sapping sword of impending doom. They cried, 'Do not cry for me, for no matter what stages they inflict upon the people, we will be forever in the light of the infinite source.’were

I abhor this place. Shemhazai shouted aloud toward the faces upon the walls, bodies stuck in ice and mud. The halls were empty, yet shrieks and howls filled the long and dark regions of the oubliette. Stalagmites and stalactites reigned in parts, even covering entire regions of hieroglyphic texts and characters upon the walls. Shemhazai had walked far by then, for hours must have passed since he had last seen daylight. The area clearly was a portion of the deep and forgotten wings of the tower. Shemhazai continued onward until he arrived at the end of the pass, arriving at a large set of black metal doors. Shafts of iron were above the arched doorway, leading to the other side.

Erebos felt the pipe in his right hand, sitting upon a large fallen trunk beside the river. It was curved at the bottom, rising to give a mouthpiece at its highest point. Upon the other end, a concave stub filled with finely ground, azure herbs. He pointed his fingers toward the herbs to produce a small flicker of fire to light.

Material beings cannot see higher expressions of the Creator’s infinite Multiverse; nevertheless, we can gaze upon impressions, that which is shown. You and your people have modified yourselves, with an immortal life and knowledge beyond even the Primodigm. Erebos conferred to his mother, Nyx-Layil, within his mind, "Tell me what you know about the

Creator."

"He is All, and All is Him. No

Blaspheme against our Creator will ever be met with good fortune, so never deny Him. Lilith replied solemnly, Even if you are damned as I. Erebos inhaled smoke from the pipe, the clear crystal of the piece filling with a yellowish smoke. He held it within his lungs, slowly releasing threads of smoke from his lips.  What is He?" Erebos inquired.

He is All, my son. Lilith insisted, Do not question what He is. All you need to do to know Him is to look around you. He is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent; infinite expression, down to the infinitesimal impression. Everything there is to ask is Him. Everything there is to calculate, to eat; everything there is to know is Him.

Nothing can be simplified so easily. You must know if He Himself has a Creator of His own. Erebos pondered.  One who has Created Creation cannot be Created, my son. Lilith replied as Erebos lifted himself from the trunk, brushing against ferns that rose high above. He began to continue down an ancient animal path beside the river.

Will he stop the oppression inflicted upon the whole of the Multiverse from this fiend, Shemhazai? Erebos questioned.

Only a fool leans upon his own misunderstanding. Lilith sternly communed, You do not know the true oppression at work. Erebos had continued to walk through the murk and moss beside the river. The canopy was full of the nightly callings of various beasts. Erebos heard nothing in his head, as if his mother had left his conscience. Erebos continued to think, despite being unable to feel her presence within his mind. To think without surveillance, Erebos wrapped the Oxy Necrom in a pouch of chain mail. As he did so, a light beside the waters appeared; a shade of Manasa stood in gowns of white silk, as if she had appeared from some of the moonlight from the canopy. A silver crown suspended in the air above her, gracefully spinning simultaneously to the approach of the vision. Only Erebos himself could see.

Mo-ba? Manasa questioned, her frail and delicate voice was accented by her earthly heritage, clearly indicative of an acquired understanding of the Vrskan dialects received later during their upbringing upon Elysi, a language that served to replace her native tongue. The beautiful shade of Manasa’s freed spirit began to hover across the swift waters of the river, leading away from the area entirely and into the preceding forestry; into the region Erebos had tried so carefully to avoid. Manasa seemed to be leading him into Nephitian territory.  Please, stay! Erebos shouted and began to bawl almost immediately, tears welling in his face. She did not reply or stop. Erebos began to run in desperation. He frantically trampled over stones. He sifted as fast as his will could muster through thick sinking mud. His legs and abdomen turned into black gas above the furious river, his face lit with orange lines, sparks and ashen soot falling behind his steps above air. He prevailed to reach her, as he surrounded the shade in betwixt the gloom of the fiend-occupied Biruum, a place within the paradise that had begun to fill with smoke and ash from somewhere beyond, in a further and increasingly burnt region, indicative of fiend hordes burning and smiting Sirenfolk. As he collected himself from the form of a cloud around Manasa, he approached to embrace her. She disappeared and faded into the light of the lunar satellite above. Kama was seen, its scarlet radiance mixing with the lower moon, Grapha, whose white tint made a milky pink shedding of light upon ElysI, for the storm had covered it during the season of Gudiil; winds from the ocean coming upon the land, and pushing much of the hot air of the desert, and the unnatural storm from

Shemhazai’s portal had been thus pushed away from the region, with the night’s earlier storm being the last of the terrible season to pass. The moons and their light were the only way for Erebos to see and possibly, to his hopes, commune with her.

Manasa! Erebos shouted, and