A strangely soothing ray shone upon the courtyard of the Oracles abode, bearing shades of violet and amber gold. It floated leisurely above the disk-shaped districts, above the valley cleaved betwixt the Draumons Peaks by the Nature’s Architect, to let the effervescent emerald and azure waters flow unabated into the heart of the island. According to the tales Terrianis recounted whilst watching the Illius shift into its silvery form, the Lunarius.

  A lulling silence accompanied this scenery. No wind blew the soft chimes of the trees nor it brushed the marble where alabaster ruled amongst the myriad other tones to awaken the tunes of earth and stone. And neither did it slapped into Terrianis’s colorful, sumptuous robes hugging his divinely measured form standing at the precipice.

  His gaze once more focused on the city below, his eyes where every color and all their shades danced in a mesmeric mélange glistened as it graciously allowed the light of Illius to shine on it. Once again, he peered at the city which belied peace, harmony and the cogs of life wheeling onwards, yet in truth shadows slithered about its lanes, streets and squares, festering amongst the flat roofed buildings, the spires of guilds, of the Legion and the Order. The silence accentuated further as even the dragons and their riders took off from their tower atop the ridge, mutely soared the skies, flying above the bridges connecting the two sides.

  On the outside, a not quite saturnine countenance reflected upon his chiseled visage, but one easily veiled tranquil with his silken hair cascading down on the refined matte surface bereft of blemishes, inlaid with golden and silver. On the inside, the fires of uncertainty blazed his heart and soul, his mind processed through myriad questions, hope awaiting in the corner for the words of The Oracle. It soured his already darkened mood.

  And the silence of the guards aided not, they worsened it further as they stood still on either side of the ornated oaken door plated with strange minerals like blue kyanite since the last time he visited. A similar blue robe hugged their slender forms, its silken form drank in the fading daylight, its hems touched gently the floor with their yellow sapphire trims. Though what bothered him were the hidden faces, cowled beneath alabaster mask following the lines of their whole heads, yet lacking in any discernable feature. They were like eons old specters degraded by nekrotic matter.

  Their gloved fingers wrapped around long staves; their tips embedded with strange translucent stones called aperitios which swallowed the light without a care in the world like a gargantuan whirlpool that swallows fleets. Stones that could peel through the layers of reality, revealing the primordial intent of prima materia woven akin to baskets. Back in his youth, he would often steal on of these from the Keep’s armory, use them to decipher old grimoires and peer at the Illius with the same hopes of revealing its divine secrets. All it revealed was though the pain of concentrated light piercing like a dagger.

  A sigh filled with nostalgia escaped his lips, and his eyes stopped on the Radiant Keep blocking the view as it made its arc above the capital. His capital, yet the notion seemed to escape Terrianis as he waited for the soft moan of the door behind him.

  During the past few years, going even further than The Harrowing and the kidnapping of the Heavenly Monarch – from right under their noses–he had this queer sensation. A chilling that crept ever upwards his spine and gradually dug deeper and deeper. As if the shadows slithered about his soul and began to smother him from within. He felt strangely vulnerable just like on the day of Aurelithae’s birth.

  Terrianis suddenly heard the soft, husky voice of his 146th mate, those furtive lips that curved into fickle smile as she gently caressed her own bulging stomach, white as the hallowed snow. Her long, crimson red hair cascaded down her shoulder, on her lofty icy blue dress. Even this thought passed as whisper as their voices drowned out his. And it became ever more distant when the gate moaned at last, and the faceless sphinx hewn atop the arch looked once more towards the ever so distant Illius.

  “They are ready to receive you, my Elhyrissiar.” The same old man greeted him with hideous smile that increased the number of wrinkles on his parched face. His purple and white robes dangled as he bowed down, shaking as his bones rattled beneath his flesh and aged skin. Terrianis spoke no word, simply followed the old man inside.

  From the outside, the House of the Oracles was nothing more than a frugal temple one can witness in the countryside. A simple structure with a rectangular silhouette and a domed roof coated in azure and golden. But on the inside, the enchantments woven into the lustrous marble stretched the space allowing the compartmentalization of the interior. The three sisters each had their own rooms, their own baths, their own libraries where they scoured the ancient tomes written by the erudite and pious servants and believers of The Almodo who planted His own Shards within the three, allowing them to peer the myriad threads of fate, listen to its melodies, inhale its vagrant gusts. Though even with His shard they could barely decipher what thread their recipient walked on.

  At the heart of their home, he once more found himself with the elderly servant before the sheets of golden and crimson threaded with a charmingly sleeping silhouette surrounded by a radiating aura. Stepping in, once more he was enamored by the mural carved and painted over the walls, each depicting three of the myriad forms of the Almodo. The near-flawless child devoid of ears yet hearing the truths of the realms–mundane and astral. The Blind Dragon who peers across time and space, atop the first peak erected by the Architects of the Realms. And the majestic Draevhe whose mouthless face sung a deep melody, a hum that awoken the Night and later the first Dawn. “Refreshments, my Elhyrissiar?” Asked amiably the elderly servant in his gruff voice.

  “Won’t be necessary, but we thank you for your generosity.” With that, the elderly servant bowed deeply, his bones creaking before he disappeared beyond the dangling sheets which soft music soothed his soul and mind, banished his ailing thoughts. Terrianis sat down, and waited patiently, collecting his thoughts, pondering what questions to guide The Oracles should he utter. Only three he could utter before the strain of fate tears them apart, the Tides of Chaos following most definitely as he learnt from his father who recounted the tale of the Muses.

  The Oracles stepped forth in unison, their delicate forms toned by the Illius tenderly wrapped in opulent golden and vivid mauve garments, soft and slim to accentuate their mesmerizing forms. With elegant steps, they sauntered towards the pillows meticulously fortified on small platforms over the hewn rivulet where the cascading water sung its serene melody. Half a dozen sheets rested beneath the supple soles, undisturbed even as their meager weight pushed and their feet stretched them as they sat down like haughty felines who hold all the answers, but refused to convey them to the distressed.

  “We welcome you, Terrianis Elhyrissiar, our Elhyrissiar!” Spoke up the eldest, the tallest who sat in the center, the silken scarf around her eyeless visage stared emptily at Terrianis who remained listless, calm.

  “I…” He went silent for a moment, the eldest and youngest raised their brows softly. “We thank you for once again meeting us in your humble abode!” Then came the correct words as he lightly bent his chiseled form.

  “Once again, we seek your wisdom, your sight, hearing and breathing of the fates in these trying times!” He continued as he rose and met two of their gazes, and this time when he faced the eldest, Terrianis recoiled as if a vagrant northern wind braced his back, stealing beneath his robes.

  “What is it that your mind seeks, our Elhyrissiar?” The voice of the second slithered out from beneath the silken scarf coiling around her mouthless face–piercing and cold.

  Terrianis furrowed his thin brows running a fine arc above his eyes, before them Aurelithae’s sleeping form in her bed. “We wish to know; will our daughter awaken. Will our future be secured or be lost in the coming days and years?”

  “She shall awaken our Elhyrissiar.” These words immediately brightened his mood and he found his lips trembling as they wished to curve into a fatherly smile. But he remained silent as the earless Oracle did not finish, her curling tresses glowing with a strange light as she listened to the murmurs of fate. “She shall awaken, her belly full with all that is beautiful, ever more dominant towards her own fate, the path set towards enlightenment.”

  The light faded from beneath her hair cowled by silken flowing seamlessly down onto her shoulders where it merged with the rest of her attire. Serene silence followed as he pondered his next question, his gaze turning towards the lipless Oracle.

  “We wish to know; we wish to inquire or beseech you for guidance on our taken Father.” He uttered the words and soon, he felt the shadows lengthened over the chamber. Like with the youngest, earless a strange glow emanated from beneath the coiling scarf as her bosom stirred and expanded as she inhaled the winds of change and fate, and like the room, it darkened and her eyes blackened with it as her body began to tremble and she suddenly collapsed, arose and outwardly begin to crawl towards him, but stopped and fear shone its black light from her eyes.

  “A new dawn shall awaken when the womb of the skies opens, and from it he shall return anew…” She suddenly stopped her tremulous voice, assumed her previous position and calm demeanor before she continued. Dread gripped his heart, and he wished to question: but remained silent, knowing his and their limits. “…and when the new elder awakens, your legacy shall live on time immemorial. You shall forever be remembered as the King of Kings.”

  Turning towards the youngest sister, he ruminated on the next question. A queer notion stole into his mind, one detached from the austere whispers of the others. “Tell us, what is the true nature of the Shadow. Is our enemy the one who born in the darkness before dawn or is the enemy this new eldest to be born?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “The Shadow is a blight….”

  *****

  His hand still shook from the words uttered by the youngest oracle. Though perspiration did not broke forth to coat his form, yet Terrianis could not help it, but feel as if it did so beneath the many, symmetrically trimmed folds of his robe partially covering his form, exposing his neck adorned with a gilded necklet on which a small winged, serpentine dragon slithered about and beneath the beset jewels of emerald, purple opal and citrine golden stone.

  Before him on the broad, polished hardwood table, stacks of documents awaited the mighty stamp of the Elhyrissiar, to emboss the sigil upon the pure white papers’ corners. A dark purplish shade with iridescence of many colors revealed as light swept across the dragon’s heads–a long muzzle curving like a sharp beak, branching horns of a regal stag, deep set eyes of shimmering phoenixes. Order followed order, some to issue bounties upon the revealed survivors of The Beautiful’s cult, hiding in the lowest districts of the city or fled already for the continent or towards neighboring towns and the wilds. Some even were issued against children of his, tempted by the outer intelligence, and in their case, he penned in addition his disownment.

  “Could I implore upon you father, to gain your blessing to my companions to enter the Radiant Keep?” Drussaev questioned with confidence as he stood properly clad in long, flowing robes of crimson and white, golden, tiny brocades along the white trims.

  “If they prove their worth to us, we shall grant them entrance. But until then, they shall have to mingle in our shadow.” Terrianis continued reading whilst addressing his son whom he personally called back home, and felt frustrated for his delay. Even knowing Angura beseeched his aid in important matters.

  “The four I wish to receive your blessing father… my Elhyrissiar, already proven their loyalty to our dream and cause. A thousand times they willingly proved their bravery, valiance. And half of them they nearly sacrificed their lives in the face of horrors wishing chaos upon our order.” Drussaev relented not, showed no fear which any other day Terrianis would have found compelling, proud about.

  But not after hearing The Oracles words, the vague hint of fear in their otherwise languorous cadences. “Then they shall do so a thousand more times.” He sighed and stopped as one tower erected on the right side of his desk, taken away by one of his daughters. Then gestured silence from Drussaev. “We shall allow you to form your force in addition of leading the First, but The Enemy should not be underestimated, their sway we fear is greater than of Dumath’s. So, we shall not remit on this matter for the time being.”

  Drussaevh beaten his fist upon his chest and bowed deeply, his lone tail cascading over his head. “And rid yourself of that barbarous style.” Terrianis added as he watched Drussaev leave as he continued stamping and penning the orders.

  Still on the 5th day of Indaemetrua, little did the papers decreased as he spent days after days checking on Aurelithae who still dreamt in realms beyond. Though no more he felt fear and uncertainty in regards of whether she would awaken or not. And the thought of letting her venture amongst the plebeian paying off, setting onto her path to one day ascend as the next Elhyrissiar made him joyous. Yet dark clouds gathered over his mind as they did so over the capital as he stared out from his office’s window.

  A knock made him turn, and Terrianis sensed Angura waiting patiently, though there were signs of unease often worn by carriers of bad news. “Come in!” Terrianis spoke, imbued so each word directly transferred into Angura’s mind.

  “My Elhyrissiar!” He already bowed half-way in through the door. Terrianis remained at his window, watched as shadows spread over the green grass which blade and tiller bore vibrant shades of gold and red. A pleasantly soothing sight as the wind swept through them.

  “What news were you wished to consult us with?” Asked Terrianis, hoping it were nothing worrisome.

  “It is in regards of our Endeavor, my Elhyrissiar!” Angura began and immediately relapsed into silence. “The process of acquiring subjects slowed considerably, and the few we sent to test out on the continent produced less than desirable results.”

  “Is the range of the Source not sufficient?” Terrianis now looked at him as Angura answered, no frustration reflected in them. He himself expected they could be used only on the Isles, the Source lacked crucial elements within their degraded mind, one which was the instinctual ability to comprehend the dimensions of length and width, necessary for spell of long range. A mistake he himself wished to correct when time came, so he faulted not Angura for this, nor his disciples including that weird dwarf disciple of his.

  Similarly, he expected the acquiring of undesirables to be halted after The Harrowing. And now even momentary conclusion proved necessary after rumors regarding Rhenatorhia and some of his closest aides being the culprits of the attack spread across the city. Though they could continue hiring scoundrels whose minds would be swept clean, or even be forced to end their own miserable existences if the need arose. But most either got hunted down by the New Dawn to gain favor with the plebeian, whilst Terrianis also had an inkling of a suspicion that they were behind the spread of the rumors.

  “The former matter, we still continue, though only prisoners now. Which is why I beseech you my Elhyrissiar to deliver us any of the former cult members in the custody of the First or the custodiir.” Angura continued. His arm reached into the air, swallowed by the space, before he pulled out a long scroll rolled upon burgundy red wood.

  “Can you handle the furtive, cloaked corruption in their minds?” Terrianis asked, fearing not the bewitching essence of Dumath, but that of the Shadow. He found it though impossible to utter the proper words to convey it, cold hands dug into his throat’s muscles.

  “It shall not be a problem, My Elhyrissiar. We shall be thorough as always.” Angura said, bowing his head whilst placing the scroll upon his desk when Terrianis appeared there. He could do nothing, but let his arms grab the pen and stamp, and seal his approval, whilst the thought streamed into the deepest recesses of his mind, collapsed under thoughts and memories innumerable.

  On the 28th day of Septupruo, dim white clouds billowed not far ahead the Radiant Keep, tinted faintly in azure, cerulean and purple on the autumnal day. Rain poured softly upon its dozen gardens and arboretum, onto the alabaster white tower of four, crisp corners highlighted in shifting colors, where Aurelithae’s body awaited the return of her soul. Terrianis gazed with a saturnine countenance, the towers still not have lessened upon his desk, whilst his visits remained as frequent.

  Though now it seemed, there were less woes in his capital, Luth-Astaril, instead dire news came from their hard-earned provinces. News regarding the three remaining Chosen, his lost brother whose presence gave him respite. Now he regretted sending him instead of Albrion or Drussaev or any other children of his. And cursed the foolish Gnaeuth for marching into his doom, fumbling his chance to once more prove his worth to him.

  “How it came to be, tell us Sussuovar!” His tone was calm, but hints of anger lingered at the end of each word.

  “It is nothing more than an educated guess, but the wards erected by grandfather must have been destroyed by agents of the Host. One of the accursed lords then attacked, a few of their force mingled with the revenants and the banshee queen.”

  “Last, they were seen in the small settlement of Phygia’s Fall.” Terrianis looked as Sussuovar relayed the reports listlessly.

  “What need they have for stopping?” Asked Terrianis, a foreboding feeling brewing within him.

  “Dragons of Dusk soar the skies. Many of the Praetoreath’s members fallen already there, the few survivors reported the appearance of the The White Wurm stealing amongst the clouds.” Terrianis scraped the arms of his lofty seating. He knew well the aforementioned dragon. A furtive, serpentine dragon who already proved to be a menace in the far-eastern isle provinces.

  “At least they are with him.” Terrianis commented to himself.

  “Though only two of them.” Sussuovar chimed in, crossing his wrists behind, pressing them softly against his black and blue robe. “Augermil, before they departed to Vhoragos, reported the youngest of the three were taken by the Host.”

  “Taken?” Terrianis furrowed his brows, confounded and disturbed by the words. Sussuovar nodded.

  “I shall contact my agent at once.” Sussuovar spoke up before Terrianis could suggest the rescue. Then as always, Sussuovar bowed silently and vanished without a sound, leaving Terrianis to ponder the matter, fearing the prospect of a Chosen of Almodo turned against them.

  *****

  On the 34th day of Dhaektria, Terrianis sat on his throne, hewn aeons before his own time. Even before Anessarion began manifesting his dream into reality.

  Hewn from a granite of a dead world, polished and bearing the purest of whites, with the smoothened, sharply angled edges bearing the same shifting shades of all as his eyes and scales, a mélange created from the blessing of the One and the Eight and the Heavenly Monarch, the so-called pet of Dawn. Its back felt harsh and smooth in a strangely pleasant way, soothing his tired mind whilst also keeping him sharp as the primordial stones strengthened the potency of his nine arkhaine points embedded into his unique soul. Stones which were bathed in the nexus point beneath old Astaril, where like in the new, all leylines converged forming a vortex.

  The ethereal pond at the edges of the room shimmered brilliantly, in its smooth, undisturbed surface, the city, its streets and squares and its people were reflected as Terrianis watched each as their day passed, working, leisurely talking as life returned upon their faces, though many still walked the lanes in morose silence. Feeling generous and truthfully wishing to hasten the healing of the capital, Terrianis reached into their minds, and plucked out the lingering darkness, the phantom aching.

  Whilst doing so, a mild ripple brought his attention back upon the Radiant Keep, upon the room of Aurelithae. In his anger, Terrianis nearly crushed the sculpted dragon heads near the ends of the Throne’s arms, and arose, fuming upon the dais’s pristine white flooring where sharp, sidelong streaks of golden stretched towards the edges where they broadened.

  “Impudent wretch.” He murmured, gritting his teeth as he watched Vipsaeril cut down the Astral Callers, but calmed as naked Albrion charged into the room, swinging his thirsting blade towards the assassin.

  One adroit enough the save her own skin from Albrion, a swordsman even Terrianis recognized as worthy successor to Augermil–within a few more centuries–and leapt out the window to escape. Terrianis sit back, smoothened out the wrinkles upon his golden robe accentuated with red edges bearing golden embroideries of bright disks. He inhaled slowly, calming and focusing then appeared before the Vipsaeril stealing from shadow to shadow in one of the empty hallways of the tower.

  She screamed as an invisible force grabbed her by the throat, breaking her windpipe. Fear reflected in her crimson eyes as she stared at Terrianis calm visage veiled by soft shadows. At first, he planned simply shattering every single bone within her body, using Dawn maghia to keep her alive until the last shattered into powder. But Terrianis kept his cool, and decided to swim through her memories, find her patron and give both to Angura. She was the perfect specimen for the Endeavor.

  Though his wishes were ignored as Vipsaeril used the last of her mental strength to activate the Dusk inscription to extinguish her own life, and the last of her memory left behind within the speckles of remaining anima. A vain effort as Terrianis counteracted it, wiped her will, leaving her with nothing but the memories she wished to erase, and the innate ability to breath.