The heavy iron door groaned shut behind Iskareth, sealing the chamber with a dull, final thud. From within, the wails of his children faded into silence, swallowed by the thick metal and the encroaching dark. The claustrophobic stone hallway stretched behind him and dampness clung to the air. With each step away from the door, his footsteps echoed quietly off the walls.

The floor beneath him was cracked, though of course that was intentional, letting mana and other energies seep up from what lay below. Only as he reached the bottom of the stairs which led back to the surface did the cracks stop.

He sighed as he pulled the blood-stained gloves from his hands, tossing them into the waste cut from the stone, a hole that dropped straight into the pit. The scent would not leave him so easily, so he covered it with incense, which would suffice until he could bathe.

At the top of the stairs, light filtered down through yet another door, hazy with dust, and he could see a figure waiting for him, outlined by the sun's rays.

Anger flared in Iskareth's veins as he marched up the stairs, already assured of the arrogant interloper's identity.

The figure atop the stairs was tall, sporting four arms from a muscled yet slender body. His skin was grey, and his spiked black hair seemed to almost wave, despite the lack of airflow in the stairwell. He was dressed sparsely, wearing golden bands on each of his wrists, and a tattered black loincloth, which Iskareth knew there was nothing beneath.

"Vaeril, what are you doing here?" Iskareth growled as he reached the top. "If any of the children saw you—"

"Inconsequential," Vaeril interrupted, golden eyes glared contemptuously from his unnervingly symmetrical face. "You care too much for those brats."

Iskareth grit his teeth. "If one of those brats were to see you and tell someone, imagine what it would do to our plans."

"If they saw something, I can only imagine they would go to their 'Father' first. And then you would deal with them, would you not?"

"I would do what I had to," he admitted after a moment. "But there is no reason to risk stirring up trouble."

Vaeril then looked past Iskareth, down the stairs, towards the doorway in the dark.

"Those things are disgusting, do you know that?"

Iskareth smiled dryly. "So even the asura feel disgust? Enlightening. However, you'll forgive me if I care little for your opinion. Now state your business and leave."

Vaeril's face crinkled with annoyance. "Mind yourself Iskareth. You are not yet a sage, you cannot command me."

"You need not remind me who holds your leash," said Iskareth. "But you are in my home, interrupting my work, so state your business, or leave."

The air grew dangerously thick as he met the asura's eyes. Despite himself, Iskareth felt a bead of sweat roll down his cheek, and his hand drifted towards the syringe hidden in his robes. For a moment, he dared not breathe. If Vaeril wanted him dead, he doubted he could even inject himself before he fell, but if Iskareth showed weakness, he felt he would be in even more danger.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Finally, the asura relaxed, and his scowl evened out as he leaned against the wall.

"I'm here to report that I killed the third Sepal last night."

"Then only one remains, Sadof."

Vaeril nodded, a hint of dissatisfaction flashing across his face.

"I hope he proves a greater challenge than the rest. They each fell far too easily, but I have heard he is the strongest amongst them."

Iskareth smoothed out his robes. "Your strength is absolute, and His power courses through every fiber of your being. The sages sent you because they knew you were superior to the Sepal."

Vaeril laughed. "If the sages believed I was sufficient, they would not have sent the lessers as well. Neither they, nor you, truly understand what we have become."

Someday, I will be among them, Iskareth thought. My experiments will bear fruit, and then we will see who truly understands.

He kept it to himself though, unwilling to provoke the asura any further. He didn't see much point in speaking of the plan with Vaeril—the asura had little interest in it, but if Iskareth attempted to undermine his authority, he wouldn't appreciate it.

"Once Sadof has fallen, the city will be left defenseless," he said. "With the Sepal gone, those of the Ecclesia who are not under our control will fall into line, and the church will seize control of Liresil."

"I still think we should just kill them all and be done with it. What is the purpose of all the waiting, all the subterfuge?" Vaeril crossed his arms.

Iskareth glared at the asura, wondering, not for the first time, what the sages had been thinking in letting such a brute be one of the first to undergo the bestowment. Giving the powers of a god to such a man baffled him.

"The disappearance of the Sepal is something we can explain—but if the Ecclesia were to vanish, we would be unable to cover it up. The last thing we need is interference from other kingdoms. The sanctum will not open until the solstice, and we will need access to the heart if we wish to succeed. Thus, we must be patient. Furthermore, the sages wish to see it done on such an auspicious date."

"The day of greatest magic," Vaeril said impatiently.

"Yes, but that is not all. This year is special, you see? On the day of the summer solstice, the sky will be darkened. For seven minutes, day will become night. Then, under the black sun, will we act."

Vaeril didn't seem impressed. "Scheming and waiting in the end. But the sage's will shall be carried out."

"There is significance, you fool. But perhaps you wouldn't understand such a thing."

"And if anyone else interferes?" Vaeril asked, ignoring his comment.

"Then you will cull them. Or is that not your purpose?"

Vaeril grinned. "I am what He has made me."

Iskareth nodded, then stepped past the asura, grabbing the handle of the door. He looked back.

"Give me a moment to ensure my children are not watching. Then you may leave."

The asura rolled his eyes. "Do not let them interfere with your obligations to the church Iskareth."

He didn't justify it with a response, turning away as he pushed the door open and stepped out into the light.

Soon, everything would fall into place.

In the city of Liresil, beneath the branches of the spirit tree, a rot festered.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.