There are things of course that even I don’t know about. I know Neneria must know of them, I am certain she would explain if I asked. Likewise, I am certain that Irinika is in the same boat. Both of them must know of the Age of Gaia, and neither of them speak of it much. I have seen my other daughters, Baalka and Fer especially, broach the subject with both. And both simply sidestep the topic, as if it something that should not be discussed. Ultimately, what has happened before has happened. We dwell on the past only insofar that it can be used to assist the future. When I came to the dwarves, I did not bemoan them for the Surface War, the topic was breached only to set it past ourselves. There has never been a need to recount the tales of times when Humanity was on the borderline of extinction, I doubt there will ever be a need.

  Likewise, when I came to the Goddesses before they were taken on as family, I came only with the intention of giving them a new future. The foundations needed to be examined in some detail, but those were foundations of character. Neneria, I can only assume, spent much of the Age of Gaia alone, wandering from place to place. The Gatekeeper to the World Beyond has always been famed and honoured for facilitating the travel of lost souls away from Arda and letting them move on. She was there for the Concordats, but as a witness. She was there for the facilitating of Heroism, but as a witness. She was there for Worldbreaking, but as a witness. And a witness silent. Not once did she cast scornful judgement to us, not once did she give us benevolent advice. The position was safe, even during the Concordats, when dragonkind threatened to wipe Divinity off the Surface of Arda, they specifically excluded the ever-neutral Keeper of the Dead. The only time she ever broke an exception was for her own steed and during Worldbreaking, when magicians directly threatened her. Even then, she would simply isolate herself and kill those who came too close.

  Neneria shares a bond with Irinika in this regard, for both of them know of the Ages of Gaia and of Monsters. Yet never once has anyone heard them recount their memories to each other. Irinika is a mirror to Neneria. Vain and boastful and basking in a pride so great it borders on vainglory. She will recount times from the Age of Monsters, when I formed but she will cut off there. Irinika is one that pushes me over the edge in such regard, if it was purely Neneria, I would most likely be unable to resist indulging curiosity. If it both of them, then whatever scars they have formed must obviously be covering some sort of wound that I struggle to even imagine.

  The one thing I do know, learned from Irinika, is that Allasaria is merely the newest incarnation of the Goddess of Light. Apparently, there was once a sister Goddess to Of Darkness. Not in the fashion of Allasaria and Kassandora, who happened to form concurrently and in the same place, but rather one forged of a similar brotherhood I had with Paramethus.

  She has never spoken the name and I only know for Allasaria is sometimes called an impostor by her. “Not the first one.”

  Whoever that Goddess of Light was, no record of her exists, no artefacts have ever been recovered. Whoever she was, she must have died before the Age of Monsters even began.

  - Excerpt from the private writings of God Arascus, of Pride.

  Iniri took a great sigh as she cast her hands forward once again. Olephia just stood by her, watching, not saying a word. Of course she wouldn’t speak, but even the sound of pen sliding against paper was missing. She just watched the ancient growth before them as Iniri tried to move it. Illuminated by the foliage that the Goddess of Nature had sprouted down here, pale shadows of textured by blue and orange flickered upon the shifting wood. It was obviously not some Divine, as Iniri had first feared. It was nothing like the Jungle, she could move this wood, she could command it, she could wield it but…

  But it simply would not listen to her.

  Like some untrained dog that only wanted to play or an arrogant house-cat that lounged about upon the table. It simply refused to follow orders. No matter how Iniri spoke to it, no matter how much willpower she poured into it, it simply absorbed it all and then some. A tunnel could be opened for the grand distance of maybe a quarter-mile but the moment Iniri relaxed, it would close back up like a sponge reforming its original shape. Likewise, she could even pull the wood out into branches and stretch it. Several roots lay on the ground, were Iniri had pulled and pulled and pulled and then snapped them off with other flora that did actually listen to her but that method was akin to drying to drain the sea that Olephia had just annihilated bucket-by-bucket.

  So it came back to the Goddess of Chaos. Iniri had made no progress at this for an hour. She would make no progress at this for how much longer? And yet Olephia did not judge, did not comment, did not even write. She just stared at the wood as if she was trying to find some pattern in it that Iniri would miss. The Goddess of Nature straightened her back, let go of her energies and restarted as the barricade immediately reformed to where it had just been. At least it wasn’t expanding. Iniri remembered the ravenous roots that would crawl anywhere were there was even a semblance of…

  Well, there was no light down there, was there? The bioluminescent plants shone but they weren’t the sun. Not really. It needed to be light true, glowstone would not do it nor the dwarven Suns if they shone. The stars would move them though. Fire could awaken it as well. Iniri attempted again. She knew she should be asking Olephia for help. She knew Olephia had said it was too dangerous for her to blast it open in case they needed it closed once again. If monsters came spilling out, then Klavdiv would suddenly be attacked from within. The Goddess of Chaos was damn right.

  Yet there was another, much simpler reason that Iniri had not asked yet. This was her kingdom. It had bowed to her once before. She knew she had the keys to it. The assistance of another Divine was akin to giving the deed of the house to one’s neighbour. This was her demesne and Arda unfortunately made all her little children jealous.

  So it went on for an hour. Then two. Then three. And then light beaming down from above and the sound of chains and metal stopped Iniri in her tracks. The two Goddesses turned, one merely curious, the other glad she heard the sound so that mortals would not bear witness to the fact she was utterly inept right now. Above them, with spotlights mounted onto it that beamed like lighthouses and wiped away the comparatively measly light of nature, descended a steel platform.

  Iniri couldn’t help but sigh to herself. Truly times had gone by. There had been eras, and not eras ancient but eras where a mortal would be terrified at the sheer insanctity of stepping in for a Divine. Arascus, whatever he did to humans, gave them a spark that no one else did. Iniri and Olephia both waited for the platform to slowly descend. Humans and dwarves. The former in the thick, insulative coats. Several held little gizmos and electronic trinkets and the like. Iniri had it explained to her when she was waiting for Olephia to finish annihilating the ocean, but she honestly did not care what the flashing lights of red and blue and green and yellow represented. The dwarves came as dwarves did, in armour that looked as if it was made of conjoined ingots, fur sticking out of it to keep warmth in these depths and…

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  Iniri actually gasped.

  And then she blushed and looked around. Too late. Olephia’s purple eyes were already on her as if analyzing one of the woman’s paintings. Iniri’s cheeks went a deeper crimson and she looked back to the dwarves, pretending nothing was wrong. She had seen those weapons before but hung up as decoration. It was akin to seeing a dragon’s skull mounted over a King’s throne and an actual dragon.

  How did they?

  They couldn’t have known, could they? If they did, then why… But maybe it was just dwarves working it out? They were industrial little creatures. Olephia held her finger extended to the dwarves for one moment and she grabbed Iniri and she pulled her back a few steps. The smile underneath those purple eyes was downright avaricious in its greed. Iniri only sighed. She knew what was coming. The reaction should have been hidden better. Everyone knew that the dwarves had such relics from the past. Why did it even surprise her? Her violet eyes excitedly went to the dwarves and Iniri sighed. The fact her tone was so clipped, so dry, so emotionless must have given it away. “What?”

  If Olephia could squeal and not devastate the local area, Iniri had no doubt she would. There was nothing but excitement in her eyes. She started writing. ‘It’s the axes, isn’t it?’ Iniri read the sentence once, twice, thrice and sighed. The sigh gave it away.

  “It is.” Iniri admitted.

  ‘Why?’ Olephia asked.

  “I do not know. They are before my time.” That wasn’t a lie. She knew what happened through being told, but it was before her time. Olephia smiled at her.

  ‘What a reaction for something you don’t.’ She took a step to the side and away, her purple eyes glancing from the dwarves and back to Iniri and back to the dwarves as if trying to remember everything that was happening down here. Iniri turned her gaze from Olephia and watched the dwarves holding their ancient arms. And she felt herself be transfixed by the words on the blades. The dwarves called them runes, but..

  Olephia’s finger tapped her shoulder. She had already scrawled something down. ‘You know what the runes on the axe heads say.’ And for a moment, Iniri could not even think. To think she had been caught so openly like that. To think that Olephia was so sharp. But then, she would be, the woman spoke through art, she knew how to paint each and every emotion there was.

  “Deliver us.” Iniri read only the first rune. The rest… She took a deep breath. “Deliver us from evil.” That was the correct definition but it was a mistranslation. Evil had always existed on Arda but it had gone through different names. During the Great War, evil was the Empire. It was Chaos during Worldbreaking. Tyranny before that, tyranny both Divine and magical. It had been monstrous once. A great many coats it wore. A great many coats it would wear. Right now, it was bearing the coat that was Tartarus, soon it would bear Paraideisius, Iniri didn’t know what would come after that. Something would. Something always came. Olephia turned to the axe head and then back to Iniri.

  She held up a piece of paper. ‘That’s it?’

  If she were Arascus, if she were Allasaria or Kassandora, Fortia even, Helenna or Malam, she would have answered. A lie or a misdirection or both or none, something would be said. “It’s not to be spoken of.” Iniri said quietly. “That is what I will tell you. It’s not to be spoken of. I was told not to speak of it.”

  Of course, that was the wrong answer. Olephia only smiled, she put her pen to the paper and then looked back to Iniri. There was a pen. The pen lifted and then it came back down. ‘It’s the same thing that Irinika and Neneria don’t talk about, isn’t it?’

  Iniri took a deep breath. She had no clue if they could read these runes. They could most likely. They had been everywhere back then. Although runes were the wrong word. Runes were magical carvings that the dwarves had figured out, ways to trick magic into entering objects. They were spells effectively, Elassa would no doubt give a better description but Iniri was sure that if Elassa touched this blade, she would not feel a single trace of her essence on them. Those words did not have power because they were runes, they were prayers. “It may very well be.” Iniri said. “But I can assure you, none of us truly know.”

  Olephia smiled and wrote down something else. ‘And that only makes me more curious.’

  “Let it be so.” Iniri said. “Let it be so.” She took a deep breath. “But I do not beg for your secrets and your whims so return the favour, pester your sisters on this, not me.” Olephia only replied with a smile and a thumbs up. She no doubt would. Irinika and Neneria would not have an answer either. They knew on one hand, but…

  Well, it was better to leave things that were long dead and defeated in the graves that they were buried in. Iniri took a deep breath and returned to the party of dwarves. All of them held their ancient arms. The humans that had come were stood off in the distance, obviously not welcomed by the half-men. Engineers and scientists that were busy setting up spot-lamps they had brought down on their elevator platform. The Goddess of Nature approached the dwarves and looked at them. They looked at her, axes in their hands, obviously knowing but obviously hesitant on what to do. “High King Osonev.” Iniri only realised how cold and commanding her tone was after she spoke. And when she spoke again, it was the same thing. “Do what your ancestors have done.” She pointed to the wood door.

  The dwarf stared up at her and then down at his blade. “With this?” What a stupid question. What with if not that?

  “That blade has cut down trees before.” Iniri said. She didn’t recognise it exactly, the most famous arms had been destroyed at the very beginning when the Age of Gaia began. Iniri had formed not long after the beginning of the Era and she only knew because of what others had told her. “These are roots that managed to escape.”

  “I…” Osonev said. “Of course.” The party of dwarves slowly lumbered over to the wooden barrier, peeling away from their High King. He crossed the final stretch of the distance by himself. Iniri kept pace slightly off to his side and behind him. Olephia next to her, far too happy with what was happening down here. He turned to Iniri. “May I begin?”

  “You may begin.” Iniri said. “If I had a blessing to give, I would, but it would not do anything anyway.” High King Osonev bowed his head to her and then approached the wood. He took a deep breath. He looked down at the weapon in his hands. He looked at Iniri. His eyes almost whimsically desperate as if he himself did not even know what was about to happen. One gauntleted hand passed over the blade, then slid down to the shaft and the dwarf took a deep breath. Iniri did not even bother hurrying him along. Frankly, she wanted to see herself what would happen. Would they have held? Those who spoke them had long since died. Osonev cast his hands above his head, axe within them, he took a deep breath, held it, released and brought the blade down upon Gaia’s ancient woods.

  But then had men ever stopped asking to stopped being delivered from evil?

  Bark that had not moved for Iniri, that Olephia’s hum had only charred, was split open. It did not chip nor explode.

  No.

  The bark slithered and moved and pulled and retreated from a single stroke of Osonev’s blade. The dwarf stood there, baffled for a moment. He turned back to Iniri and Olephia and the rest of the mortals who had come. “Is…” His voice trailed off and he looked at the weapon. “I…”

  It was not Olephia who gave the order, but Iniri. Her tone low and cold. This is how it had happened before she had claimed the crown as well. These new breeds of Divines were powerful, more powerful than Iniri definitely, but they had been born with it. Their lack of fear was only natural for they could not conceptualize a life without the power that was granted to them upon incarnation. Her voice was so cold it almost surprised her. It truly sounded like the old Iniri. “Keep felling dwarf.”

  And then she said something that a man a long time ago had told her. A man dying, in a pool of his own blood. Not a Divine but a mortal. Why the memory just flourished into her mind, she did not know. But it was there and she couldn’t get that man out of her mind. “Remind Arda her children still live.”