Kado knew it was here. It had to be here. Why else would she have sent him here? She had never been wrong before, which meant the object was here in this temple, it was just a matter of uncovering it.
A piece of the pathway crumbled beneath his feet, and he redirected his body, twisting it in the air to avoid falling into the chasm beneath him. The ruins were getting more and more dangerous the longer he stayed here. The sooner he found what she needed, the better.
He recalled her precise directions and activated his Inspect skill. There was something he was missing, all he had to do was look in the right place. There! His skill picked up on a glowing golden light, just across the chasm.
He quickly dashed his way through to the other side, narrowly avoiding falling to his death. Even as powerful as he was, the depths below spared no one. Looking down into the pitch black once more he let out a low appreciative whistle. It would've been awe inspiring if it wasn't so damn terrifying.
He had heard about how many adventurers explored this ruin before, in search of treasures and artefacts. All of them were consumed by the chasm, never heard from again. No one ever escaped alive, but he was different. He was chosen.
He made his way over to the flashing golden light and deactivated his skill. There it was, sitting amidst a pile of dust and crumbling stone. This scroll could change everything. Could end the war. He felt a sense of pride as he picked it up, and he felt his goddesses presence fill him.
"Well done my champion. Now jump."
Without questioning the orders, or the reason behind them, Kado the First Defier jumped into the chasm below, scroll in hand.
***
Talia Lightbearer was doomed. She knew this would be her final day in this wretched war. If only she hadn't blindly followed orders. Finrol told her this mission was dangerous, but someone of her calibre would have no issues completing it. What a fucking lie.
This realm had already been lost and conquered by one of the Princes. The only thing waiting here for her was death, and that was how she knew. That scroll she found had sealed her fate. Even if she couldn't read it, she could feel the profound power and the truth in the symbols written on it.
Whatever it said had shaken the very realms, and it filled her with a sense of paranoia ever since she opened it. If only she trusted her gut, but never would she have believed the one who had saved her would betray her.
She called on her power once more and summoned a massive spear of ice, thrusting it into the belly of the abyssal demon who towered over her. With a mighty roar it crashed to the ground and disintegrated into ashes. It would be back, just like all the others, but for now she had a reprieve.
Finrol why? What was on that scroll that had earned her this fate? What were the gods so scared of her discovering that they would send her to die? Off in the distance she could hear them. The howls of the hundreds she had slain. They wouldn't give up until the flesh was ripped from her bones, and her soul was offered up to their Lord. She had to admire their dedication, even if it was her that suffered for it.
She stopped running and finally sat down, the rough brimstone digging into her back as she leaned against a rock and closed her eyes.
Fifty. Fifty times she had unleashed her power and done everything in her ability to survive and keep running. It didn't matter. They had her scent and would not let her leave. She would forever be fighting until she ran out of energy and was overwhelmed. Fifty times she had hoped beyond hope that her god would come down and save her. There would not be a fifty-first.
***
Irithon sat meditating, just hovering above the ground. His mind was in turmoil, struggling to come to terms with the revelations of his last mission. He had been so close, but he knew the truth now.
The Void had tainted him, but it let him go, it's voice echoing in his head. Everything he knew about the Void was turned upside down.
It was his life's mission, given to him by his God, to oppose the Void and disrupt its corruption wherever it went.
That was why he was so torn between duty and morality. Duty dictated he stay the course and continue to fight. Morality meant… That he had failed everyone. Morality meant that everything he had done had been wrong.
The whispers in his head ravaged him once more and his meditation was disrupted. He collapsed to the ground, sweat pouring down his forehead. Duty? Or morality?
In his heart of hearts he already knew the choice he would make before he made it. He knew deep down that he could not simply ignore the whispers in his head. He knew deep down that somehow, the Void spoke the truth to him. Duty? Morality?
How could he choose? Three hundred and sixty-two years of service, and it all came to this. He smiled ruefully and resumed his meditative stance, once more beginning to float just above the ground. Powerful swirls of energy gathered above him.
Duty. Morality. Irithon winced as the first of the powers came down and struck him, but he would not be deterred. Another lash of power struck him and he let out a gasp of pain.
This was it then. His final meditation. His final quandary. A third mighty power came from the sky, wrapping around his leg. More and more swirls of power continued to surround him, wrapping around him as if he would resist.
Morality. That was the answer. Doing the right thing even if you know it might mean your end. Using the last of his power, he sent out the fragment of him tainted with the Void and hurtled it toward the heavens, hoping it would find someone who could do better than he did. The strands of power tightened their grip, and then pulled. Irithon did not need to meditate anymore.
***
"We need to destroy it Namira! That thing is cursed."
"Nonsense Iris, it is the truth."
Two twin sisters stood in their living quarters, a scroll encased in a golden container sitting on their table. Namira had stumbled across it while hunting Kilkron beasts in the forest and brought it home. "What do you mean it is the truth? It's sealed up." Iris pointed at the scroll, anger filling her. How could her sister bring this thing home? Couldn't she see it was a bad omen?
"I- I don't know. All I do know is that it contains the truth about the gods." At that Iris went deadly still. The gods? They hadn't been seen in over centuries and now her sister was claiming this scroll had the truth about them?
Liar. She was lying. There was no truth about the gods to be uncovered.
"Please, listen to me Iris. We need to take that thing to High Priest Leth, he'll know what to do with it." Namira turned towards the scroll, intending to grab it from the table. Iris reached out and gripped her sister's wrist tightly, squeezing it painfully. "No. We won't do anything with it." Her eyes widened when she realized she was hurting her sister, and let go of her wrist. "Let's just… talk about it tomorrow, okay?"
With that, the two sisters finished their day, ignoring the scroll on the table. They called it an early night and went to sleep, determined to resolve the issue in the morning.
Namira woke up suddenly, feeling like someone was watching her, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her room she realized it was just Iris standing in the doorway. "Oh, Iris. You startled me." Her sister didn't respond, just standing there silently.
"Iris? You okay?" Namira got out of bed and approached her sister, wondering if she felt the same way as she did. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier, I don't know what came over me. Iris? What are you-"
A flash of silver was all Namira saw before she clutched at her throat. "I told you Namira. We won't do anything with it." Iris watched emotionlessly as her beloved sister fell to the floor, bleeding out.
She wanted to cry, to shout for help, but she could do nothing as the sister she grew up with gasped her last breath. Blood pooled at her feet, but Iris didn't care. She wasn't in control anymore.
"You've done well my child. There is just one last thing you need to do."
The sweet voice was right. Her mission wasn't done just yet. The heretic was dead, and there could be no witnesses to the scroll. Her own hand trembled as she pressed the silver knife to her own skin, and then darkness took her.
***
Kiirion studied the scroll in his hand. He could feel its ancient power, even sealed as it was. His father would be proud that he had obtained it. Maybe proud enough to forgive him and accept him. He still had nightmares about that night, and he knew his father blamed him for what happened. Hell, he blamed himself too.
They had taken him. He could remember every detail like it had happened just the day before.
Leothric had woken him up in the dead of night to go fishing, specifically for the Luminari fish. They could only be seen at night, but their beauty was a sight to behold, plus, they tasted good when cooked.
If only Kiirion had paid more attention in magic classes. He would have noticed the faint shimmer of an illusion spell. He should've known that the Luminari were harder to find, despite their glowing.
Maybe if he had gone to more sparring lessons and actually trained with the knights like he was supposed to. No. No amount of training could prepare anyone for a well placed ambush like that.
He could still feel the weight of the mace as it swung out of the darkness and made him see stars. Could still hear the cries and screams of his brother as he was beaten and tied up. He could remember the searing look of the man who had sneered at him and then left, taking Leothric and stealing away into the night.
Ten long years had passed since then, eight since he was banished from the kingdom. But this scroll. This scroll changed everything. He could sense the power held within, maybe he could use it to locate and free his brother. Then he could truly return home and his father would embrace them both once more.
It was that thought that drove him to do the stupidest thing he would ever do.
With a mighty twist, Kiirion popped the seal off of the container that held the scroll, and the piece of parchment slid out into his hands. It was old. Older than his father, and yet it still looked like it wasn't a day old. The paper was fresh and pristine, the ink on it as clear as day.
Without wasting any time he opened the scroll and gazed upon the symbols that hadn't been seen in thousands of years.
Shaky hands dropped the parchment, and it magically floated back into its container, resealing itself and waiting for another who was deemed worthy to read it.
Kiirion, though not versed in the ancient language written on the scroll, could understand it perfectly. It shook him to the very core of his being. How? How could such a thing be true? How could it be hidden from everyone?
He needed to tell someone, anyone. His father. His father would believe him, even though their relationship was tainted. Just as he prepared to activate the very curse he hated, the one inflicted upon him by his father, to travel back home a loud boom resounded above him.
No. He wouldn't make it back home. And even if he did, he would pay dearly for it. He hung his head in defeat and accepted his fate. Up above, storm clouds began forming, crackling with lighting and booming with thunder. A storm was coming for him.
Knowing he wouldn't survive its outburst, the Elven princeling did the only thing he knew would appease the beings who sought to strike him down. He pleaded for his life.
That day, the gods decided to only take someone's tongue, as well as their sanity. They reduced a proud and powerful Elven prince into a mute and mad shell of who he once was. The powerful beings ensured that he would never be able to divulge what he read, and if he somehow did, no one would believe his ramblings.
As he fell to his knees with tears falling down his face, the scroll was whisked away, off of the cliff Kiirion stood upon, and into the deep depths of the ocean, awaiting the call of Fate to be discovered once more.
***
Death smiled as he glanced over at the iron wrought cage next to him. It was filled with eight glowing souls. Previous Defiers who had been slain and delivered into his cold grasp. Each soul was a mix of golden and dark energies, a representation of the journey they had taken.
It was a shame the previous Defier had escaped his clutches due to the mercy of a few gods, but he could already feel the call of another soul that walked the path. It did not matter that he would still be one soul short of the ten he needed. He would be one step closer to accomplishing his goal, and that was all that mattered.
***
"They can never know the truth. It would break everything we've worked so hard to build. Even though his existence is wretched, we should be grateful for Jaskiar. He is a welcome distraction for the realms, something to grab their attention. Someone to unify their anger and hatred towards. It would be a shame should they ever uncover the true reality of things. We would have to start over. We would have to create a blank canvas and begin once more. All of our progress would be lost."
All around, gathered in hundreds of marbled seats, gods and goddesses listened to the man standing at the podium. He spoke to all of their minds, but they all understood the gravity of the situation. They all knew what was at stake.
The scroll hadn't been seen ever since the day that Mirkul, Iorthon and Varista knocked it into the sea, and that had been five hundred years ago. Since then, there hasn't been word of a troublesome individual looking for the scroll.
"Yes. It is true that nothing has occurred for a long time, but we must still be vigilant my brothers and sisters. Let us not get lax in our duties. Patrol the realms. Protect them. Do what you must to ensure the truth does not come out. Continue to fight in the name of Light, and we will achieve all of our goals."
Every being nodded their heads in assent, how could they not? When one of the Council descended, every god and goddess had to listen to their decree. They might not agree, but it was not their place to question things, nor to talk back. They had orders to carry out and duties to fulfill.
"Good. You all understand. Then you are dismissed back to your realms. You should all pray that I do not have to return again. If I do, it will be under less pleasant circumstances."
The being at the central podium flashed out with a bright light, leaving the rest of the gods and goddesses alone with their thoughts. None of them wanted him to come back.
Though they were powerful beings in their own right, just one of the members of the Council could wipe them out with but a thought.
One by one, each being teleported out and returned back to their own realms to keep watch for the wayward souls that couldn't be tied down and controlled by Fate. The ones who could disrupt the fabric of the universe and shake it to its core. The ones who had almost ruined everything. The ones the gods feared more than Fear itself.
The ones known as the Defiers.