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Soaring over the dark mountains as they returned to Nethermore, Elinor observed her rising empire, stabilizing the shivering, naked sixteen-year-old girl she’d just rescued.

She would give the clans enough time to prepare themselves for her arrival; it was easier to deal with an enemy that centralized around those needing protection and came to you than otherwise.

Voukey took them high into the air, and, at the Flock General’s prompt, one thing snagged their attention, yet Elinor felt something else that likely correlated.  “Empress, the mountain shines…  Nethermore, Empress.”

Her vision lingered on the Maw, its inner tragedy still obscured by the swirling, misty depths; she would need to explore Erra’s devastation when there was time.

“Is there a problem in Noa’s network?”  Garu growled.  “Someone using our current position to attack its infrastructure?”

No…  Elinor’s jaw tightened with her grip around the terrified teenager’s stomach as the wind increased, focusing on her colossal fortress; she’d invested in sensing paranormal phenomena, which had many uses.  I can feel the collision of two powerful spirits in battle…  Ke’Thra’Ma and Kon’draga are fighting.

Curious to meet every member of the Covenant, she tried to distinguish the particular spiritual signature that was sending waves across the valley; there was an air of familiarity to it that sparked her interest.

Hmm…  Hurry, Voukey; we may not make it back before the battle is over.

“I will increase our speed, Empress; I only fear the girl will not be able to breathe.”

An understandable concern…  If we miss it, there is nothing that could be done, but perhaps the Ke will hold out.

Garu swallowed at the implication.  “The White God will lose?”

It isn’t one-sided, but I expect he is ill-equipped to deal with this opponent…  I look forward to seeing this entity to confirm it for myself, as I expect Kon’draga is directly above my position in the Covenant and below Orinvia…  Hmm-hmm, but Orinvia has her own spiritual problems.

Over an hour passed as Voukey brought them near Nethermore; still, the two combatants continued.  Bright, orange light flickered high in the dark clouds over the Meridian Jewel; the central volcano spewing lava out as the machines generating the city’s power drew on the thermal source.

Dropping onto the walls, Elinor helped the numb and freezing teenager off Voukey’s back, whose teeth were chattering; Nelika wasn’t doing any better as Garu supported the wobbly Scout.

The Jailor of Eternities handed her clothing to the girl to act as a sort of blanket.  “Noa…”

Voukey and Garu glanced around as the Runic A.I. didn’t appear.  Yet, Elinor expected a delay, and, after several seconds, the symbols appeared under their feet to show the somewhat breathless woman.

“A-Apologies, Empress…  I am… currently running… very behind…”

Prioritizing the two living, Elinor gestured at Elena and Nelika—who Garu was still stabilizing.  “Can you gather enough energy to transport these three to one of my maids?”

“Empress?”  Garu questioned.

“Rest with Nelika until I call for you again; if she wishes to join me, she will need to endure another trip.”

“I-I under—understand, Empress…”  Nelika mumbled, hugging her shoulders.

Noa took their attention as she blinked out of existence for a moment before returning.  “Sorry…  Ke’Thra’Ma and Kon’draga are taxing my defensive systems within the stadium—I haven’t felt anything like it—but give me a second… a minute…”

Elinor patiently waited in the ensuing silence, shifting to gaze toward her tower; she didn’t know what to expect when heading to the Maw or precisely how her targets would respond, so Garu’s presence was required, yet she had an hour to confirm several points of interest.

The awkward atmosphere popped when the runes encircled the group at Elinor’s back, Voukey beside her since she hadn’t named him; she would need her General nearby in case there was an event that required her immediate attention.

Once they were gone, Elinor turned a half-smile to the frantic A.I.  “Take me to Edmon and Sari’aél when you are able.”

“Shortly, Empress…  Mmgm…  The Ke even made tweaks before the battle to give me more direct control over the power grid, overriding certain safety protocols, and I’m still struggling to minimize the damage of their battle…  Empress, the Ke may not come ahead…”

“Mmh, I expected as much.  What are the current damages?”

“Umm…  Nothing permanent as of now—besides the damage to the stadium itself—yet if this continues, I might… erm… trigger an eruption to the supervolcano we currently, eh, reside in… that could affect the entire world.”

“Hmm-hmm.  You needn’t be concerned; it feels like it will end soon…”

She trailed off as they moved locations, only to be met with the calamitous resonance of something she hadn’t heard in many of her past lives—the hum of arcane energy—contrasted with the roars of the Ke.

The battleground shook, reverberations traveling up her legs as she transferred her hands behind her back to observe the blurred fight; runes filled the vast space, shattering and reforming layers in flux by the forces colliding within.

Sari’aél’s harmonic voice entered her mind as the Seraph hovered nearby, Edmon beside her, coldly studying the scene.  “It has been quite the exciting conflict, Empress!  The Ke has put up a valiant fight, yet hope is not lost.”

“This Kon’draga is… unusual,” Edmon whispered.  “She utilizes elements, yet there is another power she uses that is far more destructive; Sari’aél calls it arcane.”

She is right…

Their focus momentarily drifted to the left, where Orinvia, Bo-Ko, Lis’ndrassa, Sylez, and Sar’ollaz stood, the Devil teleporting to her side in a haze of smoke.  “Completed your task, Irkalla?  I do not believe the creatures you went to exterminate are dead; hmm-hmm, something happen?”  he spoke, mental waves creating the sound for all to hear.

Elinor scanned the partially ruined coliseum, pillars, granite, walls, and sections of the stands showing signs of damage where the dueling pair had broken past Noa’s desperate barriers.  Not willing to go in the direction the Covenant Chairman wanted as she observed, Elinor went another route.

“An Archon…”

Clearly listening, the other Covenant members—excluding Orinvia—were almost instantly around her, ruffling Edmon’s feathers, ironically, since the angel seemed perfectly at ease with their presence.

“Hmm?”  Sylez snickered, now somehow only slightly taller than Edmon, sitting on a disk of black flames and sparking crimson lightning—Hellfire—he certainly had Demon ancestry.  “You know of Kon’draga, Supreme Goddess of Chains?”

Bo-Ko bobbed up and down.  “Go, Kon’Kon!  Yeah—water—do the charging thing—yay!”

Elinor kept an entertained smile as the female entity generated a sphere of clear liquid, firing a flood of pressurized water; it cut deep grooves past the runic defenses to Noa’s curses.  Naturally opposed, it dispersed Ke’Thra’Ma’s intense, spiritually-charged flames—the reason he was beyond the rest of his race—but only light gashes were made in his tough hide, revealing hot-pink blood.

The Ke charged through it to slash at the arcane being; of course, there was a flaw in his plan thanks to Kon’draga’s form, and the giant 10-meter tall ape seemed to catch on, dual tails lashing out with shocking dexterity to disperse half of her body before it could reconstitute.

Hopping back as she expanded into a supernova, the gorilla twisted, flinging a double whip of white, spiritual lashes from his tails at the concussive explosion of the raw cosmic element, the wave mostly redirected by the spiritually laced flames.

Unfortunately, in the long conflict, the Ke had made a mistake in angle, showing they were playing a tight mental game; his lower-left hand suddenly vaporized on contact.

Kon’draga was an entity of pure arcane energy—an Archon, or Chief Entity—according to the Al’thoran race’s beliefs; in Elinor’s time liberating the confined creatures from their gel-like oppressors, she’d come to learn much about their special kind of elemental manipulation.

“This is my first time seeing an Al’thoran that achieved their enlightenment…  Although, judging by her inexperience in battle, she seems young to have accomplished the legendary feat.”

“A keen eye,” Sylez said, shifting his long tail as he tilted his head to the left, fingers rubbing his spiked chin.  “She is an interesting kid; I picked her up… three planets back, Sar’ollaz?”

“Indeed.  She has improved Sha’Guala’s infrastructure by quite a bit since then.”

“She does love to tinker, hehe.”

“It is a part of their nature,” Elinor whispered, recalling her time with the race; the Archon looked so unlike the creatures she’d ruled.

She was roughly 180 centimeters tall—which was far shorter than what she should be in her corporeal frame—colored white, violet, and black; almost humanoid in appearance, the Archon’s mane-like hair and long, bushy tail were dotted like space.

Her beautiful tufts of fur were patterned with tattoo-like cosmic patterns that changed with the forces channeled; a dark, abyssal hole was impressed into her chest, and balls of gravitational force were generated above her thin, clawed fingers and curling tail to attempt to weigh the Quen’Talrat down.

Lustrous, neon-white, haloed irises followed the Ke’s rapid movements, who used his fire as a launcher to redirect his position and dance around her arcane and elemental attacks.  Despite the fact it was clear Kon’draga was not accustomed to combat—which was why she hadn’t overtaken Orinvia in the rankings—she still seemed to hold the upper hand.

Her horns and large ears were telling of her origin as an Al’thoran, yet she wouldn’t have expected the race would condense down into the far thinner and more elegant figure; then again, some tribes hated their appearance, wishing to be more like the sleek Gromdra race—perhaps Kon’draga was a descendent from those tribes she ruled in the past—of course, it could have been the many other worlds she’d encountered them on.

She met the giant ape in the air with her arcane-laced claws, elbow-like flairs to her fur sending rays of power to counter his attempt to smash her.  Kon’draga, void-like mask cracked at the strain of repelling him, used several more slashes that spilled more pink blood, much to the Ke’s laughter; she was growing desperate.

Here it comes… Primus’ Ascent.

“It was a good attempt, Ke’Thra’Ma; it is over,” Les’ndrassa sighed.

She vanished in a flash of aquamarine light to come between a beam of arcane energy, locking both contestants in a dimensional prison as the Archon’s ultimate technique met empty space.

“Interesting,” she muttered, watching Ke’Thra’Ma fall to his left side, struggling to stay upright after expending much of his colossal spiritual reserves—the reason for the other races seeing him as invincible—alabaster flames dying down for pools of pink liquid to gather across the ground.

Half of the Ke’s left head had been stripped of fur and skin, showing muscle and blood seeping out.  “Haaa… huu-haaa… he-he…  Such an unusual style of combat…  I failed your test?”

“No…”  Noa mumbled, tears gathering in her eyes as she watched the Covenant surround him.  “He—he didn’t lose, though; he—”

“It’s fine, Noa,” Elinor soothed.  “Les’ndrassa stopped the fight; she didn’t kill him—hmm?  Hmm-hmm.  I see…”

Kon’draga drifted to the floor, fluffy tail unable to rise as her body expanded, melding back into her corporeal form; she’d overused her powers, breaking the harmony she’d found within herself and the universe.

Smooth, silky fur coloring a deep brown as Kon’draga’s mane became creamy; she collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily with sweat leaking out of her skin—a five-meter-tall wolf with elk horns and thin back hooves—she was an Al’thoran.

“How cute!”  Sari’aél chimed, clapping her hands.  “She does look like a being that would have an innate attunement to cosmic forces.”

“If you say so,” Edmon mumbled.

Surprisingly, her voice was petite, sounding somewhat dry in her fatigue as the Al’thoran’s whiskers twitched, deep red eyes on the struggling Quen’Talrat beyond Lis’ndrassa.  “I… learned much from this… trial; there is much for me to learn about… spiritual forces.  No, Ke’Thra’Ma—you have shown yourself resilient.”

“Indeed,” Les’ndrassa evenly replied, jelly-like body shifting to her humanoid appearance.  “You have stepped into the fire without reserve; as witnesses, we welcome you to the Covenant.”

Sylez snickered.  “You have a lot to learn Ke’Thra’Ma; the Covenant is a gateway to reaching beyond what is typically possible… I look forward to seeing what path you take.”

Sar’ollaz grunted.  “Much is changing…  We will speak once you are recovered.”

Colored liquid spurted out of the Ke’s missing upper-right arm, lower-left arm, foot, and gashes as he forced himself to stand on his remaining three feet; he almost fell over, tails and one arm keeping the ape balanced.

“I… have not had such a battle since the Thélméthra Queen and her brood—haha—I hear she lives, Empress Irkalla,” he shouted, drawing everyone’s attention back to her.  “I would enjoy meeting this… Iris again.”

“Hmm.  I will arrange it in time.”

“Haha!  Excellent!”

Lights shimmered around them as Sha’Guala carried Kon’draga and the Ke to the recovery bay to join Baxter; the others gave her respect or veiled animosity before leaving until only the specter remained.

Instantly teleporting to Elinor, Les’ndrassa lifted her shimmering teeth into a partial smile.  “This is an expression of happiness; is it not, Empress Irkalla?”

“Hmm.  You needn’t force yourself to do what is beyond your culture…  Am I right to assume you are of the Landalia race?”

“Quite educated; a distant cousin.”

“Mmh.  I see…  You have come a long way, and have tempered by a considerable margin.”

“I agree!”  Sari’aél added.  “There was once a similar people that I knew of—unfortunately, they have long perished.  What is your interest and story, Les’ndrassa?”

“My goal in life and path is what you seek to know?”

Edmon moved to Elinor’s side, arms crossed.  “It would help to understand our positions.”

“Hmm.  How do I describe it…” she mused, blade-like fin exiting her obsidian robe weaving forward and back with her tentacle feelers, making Edmon nervous.  “I sensed a disturbance in time and found the Covenant, believing it was them, but I was mistaken…  Now, I search for the corruption.”

Elinor’s vision narrowed, a thought rising.  “Is that what brought Becdeth to the Covenant…  You found him?”

“Most impressive,” she replied, regal tone returning.  “Indeed; Becdeth does have a similar… uneasiness about his Existence that drew me to the being; our paths have united.”

“Hmm.  I see.  In time, I believe ours will, as well; the future is murky, yet Becdeth has piqued my interest in… many topics.  Perhaps we will have a more fulfilling conversation when things settle.”

“I look forward to it.  Hmm…”  Her head lifted to stare at the falling lunar spheres.  “Arsheh calls me.”

“We will speak another time.”

“We shall.”

Letting the Bringer of the Tide leave, Elinor’s lips became a line, staring up at the moon.  She walks a dangerous line.

“Quite sad,” Sari’aél mumbled.

A rumble came through Edmon’s connection.  “How so?”

Les’ndrassa and Becdeth are similar but opposite…  She was drawn to him because she is food, and I suspect Sylez and Sar’ollaz know it, too.  So many complicated interactions, and what comes of the revelation…  We will see.

“Should we prepare for the worst?”

Why?  Elinor questioned, giving Edmon a neutral stare.  Everything dies, and when that happens, she will pass into Irkalla.

Edmon straightened.  “I… hadn’t considered that.”

Becdeth, though…  He is different from the Eldritch entities I pruned in my duties… something more sinister and foreign than what our Existence birthed.  He knows far more than he should.

“Is there an action you wish us to take?”  the Seraph asked, smiling and waving at Noa—who was concerned for her creator—the hybrid staring up at the hidden island in the heavens.

No.  Nothing certain can be taken until I meet with Ishtar.  That being said… 

Noa froze in her return wave as their attention went to her.  “Y-Yes, Empress?  Oh, umm, I’m attempting to calm the volcanic activity as we speak—vents have opened up in several places across the valley.”

“Fire?”  Edmon swiftly interjected.

“Erm—probably?”

“Haaa…  Should I handle it, Empress?”

“Have Voukey take you, but be back before the hour; Sari’aél, return to the throng and inform them that many of their daughters, mothers, and sisters will be in Nethermore by morning, and you will be escorting them back yourself as I confront the Ri’bot army.”

The deep-voiced bird chirped.  “It shall accomplish this task without fail, Empress!”

“Wonderful!  I know many will be overjoyed to hear the news,” the Seraph mirrored, clasping her hands behind her back, between her radiant wings; the two were practically blinding Edmon with their glowing attitude.

Edmon gave the Sky Lord and angel a sidelong look that said they were far too cheery before releasing a stream of sapphire-tinted fog.  “Let’s be quick, Voukey.”

“Naturally, High Lord!  We fly!”

Letting the three make their rounds, Elinor’s vision darkened; it was time to do what she came back to discover.  “Take me to Demon.”

She took one last look at the devastated arena, sections of the floor beneath showing—likely dealing inevitable functionality damage to the various runic grids Noa was attempting to repair; the road ahead had an unforgiving toll, yet as it stood, Ishtar was required for the journey forward—Ereshkigal had never failed, and wouldn’t now.

Fingers tightening around the Staff of the Dead, Elinor glared at the shadowversal entity as Noa left her to privacy, tension rising in the threatening atmosphere created between the two.

“Back so soon, Supreme Goddess Irkalla?  I have heard whispers of your name around the world, hmm-hmm-hmm.”

Not taking the bait, Elinor kept to her silence, allowing the creature to stew in her intense, emerald irises; it fed off chaos and negativity.

Becdeth is a unique Eldritch creature, unlike the natural fiends of the High Shadowverse I knew and contended with… something more sinister and lulling… powerful; it likely comes from another Existence…  An Eldritch Existence.   It is by far the most dangerous hidden danger on this planet, yet… he is not, and that is what Demon is trying to intimidate me with.

“What do you know about Erra and Ishum?”

“Mmh, hmm-hmm-hmm.  Goddess, have I not kept my word; do you wish to deal?  You know what I have to offer, no?”

“Hmm…  Your price for a full scope of this conflict between Supreme Gods and Goddesses is one of the Seeds they carry…  However, in preparation for this moment, you have willingly allowed yourself to be blinded to certain details regarding my opponents…  I will not follow the dancing strings of a pathetic puppet of the Shadowverse.”

Her nose twitched at his nonresponse as the possessed ancient technology stood perfectly still; Demon was attempting to manipulate her—her—and expected to get away with it.

“I will repeat it; you are a pathetic puppet to something beyond this sliver of a universe, and I know precisely what information you possess; Erra rejected your proposal, as well—it was made clear with Ishum’s response—and the thing you hate is that he was the one to rip a few of your fangs out.

“Be there only a few—or even a dozen—Supreme Gods and Goddesses in conflict on this planet; it is nothing new to us—it matters little—the High Heavens would never play to the strings of a pathetic instrument like you.  We are our own agents, and we bow to no one.”

Demon’s golden mask eyes moved for the first time, slitting further with a secretive smile.  “Hmm-hmm-hmm.  You will return to me, Supreme Goddess of Kur and Night Relief; the forces you contend with are beyond even your might and understanding, Ereshkigal, Queen of the Great Earth.  The battleground awaits…”

A dark smirk lifted the corner of Elinor’s lip as she stepped closer to the bars separating them, chains echoing through the prison.  “Not one soul has escaped my grasp; a chain is not made without stepping into the forge to be tempered by fire…”

“Think carefully, Jailor of the Eternities…  Prepare for Eternity’s End.”

She turned to the side, a chuckle reverberating in the air with the future noise of splintered bone, clashing steel, and raging flames.  “If you thought this planet was a prison, Puppet of the Shadows, you haven’t the faintest idea of what awaits you in Irkalla.”

Laughter came from Demon as she called for Noa to take her to her tower, adding Violet to the list; she’d rejected the fiend’s offer to reveal the players on the board—it seemed they all thought the same, which gave her another vital distinction—Yesenia was likely not of the High Heavens.

“Horror unlike anything you have dreamed makes its advance, Irkalla…  Hmm-hmm.  What a time to live; good luck, Dark Child of the Outlands!  Haha!”

Runes encircled Elinor while leering at the creature, and when they faded, the incredible view of her high tower wasn’t the thing that brought a frown to Elinor’s lips, and Violet appeared moments later.

“You called—Empress, your garments—there is filth…”

Elinor’s focus lingered on the recovering, transformed spider for a second; it would be at least a week or two before she was fully restored.

“I need a flexible outfit, Violet,” Elinor interjected, not caring much for how she appeared overall, having dispensed of the Lich Branch’s requirements of being so obsessed by her appearance.  “Something simple, practical, and that will act as a protection against weapons.”

“Yes—of course…  Would you like to shower before?”

Wanting to skip the unnecessary conversation, she released her physical body and reconstituted it.   “Hmm…  Done.”

“…”  Violet nodded, swiftly getting to work.  Her hair grew far slower than usual, yet her silk was possibly even stronger than her mother’s; that strength would be helpful.

As time passed, Elinor’s gaze wandered to Sha’Guala.  Becdeth called me the Dark Child of the Outlands…  Did Demon hear that title from him, someone else, or…  Hmm.  Am I from the outlying Existences that were pulled into this cyclone, or is that where we are now?

The other title the unique Eldritch gave her rose to the surface of her thoughts.  Last Empress of the Dead… there is a dream left to cling to.  A being of The Dream…  He fears its end…  There is hope that it won’t end… but what happens if it does…

Perhaps by Fate’s design, Becdeth?  Humph…

Violet wrapped her rather noble garb—tight-fitted with stretchable slack for movement, mixed with golden embroidery, long-sleeved, high boots, and a high neck—it would do.

Deep in thought as time passed, she went over her lifetimes of battle experience until the end of the hour came, Voukey returning with it, and, gathering the two young Ri’bot Scouts, Elinor left for war; this was only the first battle stage.

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