Taking her by the arm, Skippii led the elderly woman over to her desk, whereupon sitting, her fingers traced the scrolls and came upon a thick tome. In the dim light of morning, he could detect the wet ink on its most recent page. There was Eirene's final account, but she closed the journal before he could read it and pushed it away.

"The War of Heavens was waged by the Gods when they entered this realm from distant stars." Eirene flung into the account with renewed vigor. "Here, dwelt Primordial forces, the progenitors of all life. Among them was Cor, the essence of the earth, alive and breathing. In the beginning of time, the world was barren, volatile and tempest. Primordial forces swirled around one another–a perfect current of equal tides–shaping and reforming the realm into a perfect sphere. Though above, life was untenable, below, its seeds gestated in the ocean's depths, sewn by the alignment of all equal forces. And so, the world was in harmony for eons.

"But the Gods brought with them arcane weapons of subjugation. They are closer in spirit, you see, to humankind itself. Conquering, scheming, knowing. The Primordials are not… They are the breast that feeds, the earth that holds, the wind that howls, the ocean in waves, the moon in orbit, the sun that beams, and the veil that draws.

"The Gods came to conquer, and their war reshaped the world. In defence, the Primordials raised Titans–colossal champions, embodiments of their essence, who faced the Gods in battle. Many powerful spirits who came to this realm were slain, or else fled into the black. But those who remained united under the banner of one whom you name Chrysaetos, commander of the Sun, as you know him. However, he was once known amongst his peers as the Snake. Oyaltun has confessed this to me so, and to many before me, in these pages."

Though Skippii listened, and did not think that he was being deceived, he could not help but hesitate to believe her wholeheartedly. Nevertheless, he kept his expression neutral, and listened without prejudice.

"The Snake conjured a means of withstanding the heat of the Primordial Sun, who has been named Sol. Slithering to his core, the Snake throttled Sol's heart. You might think the heart of the Sun would be powerful to resist, but it was instead vulnerable, like flayed flesh, nerves raw, never before touched, for nothing could ever withstand its fires to come close. Sol submitted, and the Snake shed his skin, taking a new form: Chrysaetos, the Golden Eagle of the Sun.

"The remaining Gods rallied, and replicated the winning strategy of Chrysaetos. They subdued the Titans and submitted the Primordial forces, imprisoning their own will on the realm. Some, such as Cor, retreated to their most indomitable keeps. The earth's energy, which you feel now in your blood, once flowed freely upon the surface of the world. Now, it hides deep in its depths, hounded by lesser beings: Seismorix, the Quakelord, most of all."

"You know about my magia, don't you?" he asked eagerly.

"Let me finish," Eirene said. "The knowledge you seek is one part of a whole. Be patient, as I have my entire life. There is insolence in haste."

Skippii ground his mouth shut and waited for her to continue.

Eirene sighed. "I will tell you this much, then you must listen: the mountain bears a road which leads to the heart of the earth, to a communion with the spirit of Cor. Follow it, and you shall discover for yourself a truth beyond even my knowing. The path is treacherous, and even in good health, I am sure it would have defeated me. But until you depart, listen, and I shall impart all that I have learned, as is my duty, and final earthly task." Eirene shut her eyes as her voice trailed to a whisper.

"Okay. I'm sorry, please go on."

"The youngest of all Primordials, Mor, Veilkeeper, joined the side of the Gods, and so adopted their powers. The pantheon knows him as Diamortis. Death. He shared secrets with the Gods: ancient symbols of access, and routes of power. With these, the pantheon forged their most deadly weapon: arcana–a complete mastery of the elements on earth.

"In their victory, the Gods made a garden of earth. The oceans–known as Mar–would not be entirely submitted. So, they devised a plan to divide them. Summitor–who had, with his brother Seismorix–submitted Cor, tortured the earth, spewing forth its lifeforce to form new mountains and land. They divided the ocean into many pieces, easier to control. Then, Arctheros, Beatmaster, and Maricorus, Swantide, spawned beasts beneath the waves–leviathans, untamed and unchecked. They sailed rampant in the oceans, and beneath Maricorus' oversight, conquered Mar, thus adopting his namesake.

"Together, Lacustris, Rivermaster and Kylin, Stormstress, lifted the waters of the ocean and cast them upon the earth. There, they formed rivers and pools, fertilising the land for the siblings Viridoe and Virelisus to sew their forests and orchards, and later, for Frumentar's fields of crops. Many beasts sprung from their cradles, and still, many more monsters were forged to subdue the resilient Primordials. Cyclops were sent to the hills, dragons to the skies, and darker forces yet, who bear no names of record; singularis–alone and kinless, stalked the deep caves far beneath the earth's surface, its vast plains and arid deserts.

"But amongst their creations, humankind was the most cherished by Oyaltun, her Sentiescence. The white lady had abstained from war, observing instead from the company of the moon, and in the aftermath, grew maternal for our earliest ancestors. Into the primitive man, she breathed a new light. The beginnings of wisdom, and rationale, and the forging of composite things into something more grand. The pantheon took note of her creation, and meddled at once, experimenting in their own ways, imbuing humans with their powers. But each was a failure and catastrophe, resulting in the death of the lineage. Oyaltun alone possessed a soul gentle enough to touch the mind of a mortal without expelling it.

"For a time, She alone taught them the ways of the universe, revealing what secrets she knew their adolescent minds could bear. Humankind flourished, spreading to each corner of the earth, which was now much divided and varied, and blossoming with life. There was, in our people's beginning, an age of peace and festivity, and worship of Oyaltun alone.

"Though, it was Hespera, her Luminescence, jealous of her Pantheonic sister, who was first to discover that she need not cultivate her own people, but could rather manipulate those which had been granted Oyaltun's gifts of rationale, like picking the ripe fruits from a neighbor's tree. For, though humankind was more intelligent than the beasts, they were, at their core, still the same primitive beast. Stripped of Oyaltun's grace, and they were nothing more than savages. And so, upon the full moon, Hespera rid them of their civility, marvelling as they exalted their base desires, and turned to worship her Luminosity.

"Taking her lead, many of the remaining pantheon did the same. Some conquered man by force, others offered the gifts of cultivation and civilisation. Humankind came to rely upon them, as one feeds a hound to demand its loyalty. Deified by thousands of willing slaves, the Gods retired from their duties of cultivation and sank into great halls. There they remain. There, they proffer a fraction of their powers to only their most devout subjects.

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"Oyaltun's children were thus divided, and her Sentiescence faded into obscurity. She explored the globe, searching its depths for a new progeny, and though she bestowed small gifts upon the races of horses, hounds, bears and the like, none were capable of embodying her blessings as humankind were.

"Deeper into the earth she dwelt in search of a perfect lifeform, untainted by her fellow Gods. She detected a keen intellect unlike that which she possessed–not a rationale, but an instinct. Burrowing deeper into the hot depths, she discovered something beyond even her foresight. The consciousness was emanating from the earth itself, and its magmatic core. The Primordial, subdued, slumbering in its keep: Cor.

"Fascinated, Oyaltun observed Cor for many centuries as he roiled with barely placated rage. But his mind was far beyond her reckoning, far more ancient than her own. It was her nature to understand a thing for its composite parts. Cor simply knew if it was, or was not. He felt the composition of his parts, and all he touched, and was unconcerned with all else. He was so alien to her, that, in the pursuit of knowledge, she was helpless to be drawn to him.

"Oyaltun spent millennia devising a magia which would protect her from the fires of Cor. Above, on earth, it began to snow at the poles. Once her magia was complete, she reached out, swathed in ice. She touched his mind. Upon contact, she was dragged into his fires, and an ecstasy, until then unknown to her, raged like fire; a feeling beyond rationale. More powerful. Compassion."

Eirene's voice grew wispy, as though her recital brought pleasant memories.

"They were complete and perfect opposites, spinning in duality. That which she strove with great difficulty to contemplate, he understood without doubt; and those most basic things which he had not the mind to grasp, she held out before him. Enraptured in embrace, their minds expanded beyond their confines, a maelstrom of transcendence. The earth raged, tearing asunder the prison walls which Seismorix and Summitor had formed, opening vents and passageways for his fury. Spilling lava upon the land, and pyroclastic ash into the air, Cor wreaked havoc on the world above. But never did he leave his keep at the earth's centre, nor commit to an all-out war, for he was alone now amongst his brethren, and could have no hope to usurp the Pantheon.

"Fearing her sibling's reprise, Oyaltun separated herself from his coil and fled to the surface. However, their love had not been without consequence. A race of men had been caught in its waves, awashed in its heat. Few survived, but those who did were imbued with the essence of Cor. Many perished, unable to contain its power. But a single woman remained, pregnant with power. The blood which she birthed ran hot with the fires of Cor. Oyaltun helped raise the boy as if he were her own. The first of his kind. A Primordial heres."

Eirene grew quiet, and Skippii stared deep into her eyes, probing for any flicker of deceit. But there was none, and more than that, there was wisdom beyond his years. A desire, deep within him, wished to believe her–an instinct–and furthermore, it aligned with his experience–his visions of Oyaltun and the nature of his magia. In just three weeks since his powers had awoken, he had been waylaid by such uncertainty that he saw no end in sight. And though he had grown confident in his own abilities, and chosen his own path of righteousness, he had nevertheless wandered blindly in the dark.

But now his eyes were beginning to open, and he'd be a fool to close them out of stubbornness, because he was afraid of what he might see. With a sigh, he surrendered to her telling, taking it as fact, and felt the grime of uncertainty wash off of him. With each breath, new ties were made of loose knots in his memory, forming a tapestry of quality which depicted his entire life.

"Show me again," Eirene said. "Or else, I will begin to fear that I am in a dream."

Skippii drew into him the energy of the earth, and held it in his palm. A soft orange glow emanated, twinkling in the old hermit's amber eyes. She traced his palm with her shaking finger and sharp intake of breath.

"I thank you for your tale," he said. "But, I fear, I have more questions now than before you began."

"Ask them."

He shook his head, floundering for the right words. "Why…? What is the purpose of all of this? Why now, why me? What am I supposed to do with this power?"

Eirene nodded slowly, but did not answer for a while. "Come with me," she said, rising. "I will show you. Then you must face the trials."

Helping her to her feet, he followed the old hermit as she took up a cane and ventured into the temple's main hall. Leading him between pillars, they passed into an antechamber corridor which ran around the temple's perimeter. All along the walls were mosaics and murals, painted or affixed into the smooth, dark rock. They seemed to depict the tale which Eirene had told him. The foremost were torrential and magnificent, simple in design. A litany of red stones displayed what he assumed was Cor–the Primordial earth–shaping the land with streams of liquid fire and geysers of smoke. In other sections, the rock was stained with bright dyes, but in patches it had faded, revealing the age of the artwork.

Skippii extended a hand to touch such a patch, but Eirene slapped his wrist with her cane.

"Don't," she said. "That's very delicate, and much older than you can imagine."

Moving on, they reached a corner, where a mural depicted hundreds of stars falling from the black sky upon the volatile earth. The Gods, as they descended from the heavens in war. Mountainscapes were dwarfed by titanic figures of rock, fire and ice, who did battle with the Gods, each of whom were painted in the shapes of men and women, yet with extraordinary features. As they walked down the hall, the murals took on apocalyptic proportions as the earth was torn asunder, the seas raised to the skies, and many Gods slain before their wrath.

Then, at the corridor's corner, a large mosaic of the sun beamed over the walls, floor and ceiling, and in its centre, coiled a snake. Thereafter, the paintings depicted the destruction of the Titans, and the downfall of the Primordials, just as Eirene had told it.

"When did your awareness awaken?" Eirene asked.

"Two… No, more like three weeks ago. I was battling the enemy, and came close to death when suddenly… I felt the fires within me. I used them on instinct. I wielded them."

"What enemy do you speak of?"

"The Ürkün," Skippii said, unsure if the old hermit shared his sentiment. She had mentioned learning to speak their language.

"I was raised in Nerithon," she said. "After the nomad's invasion. I lived amongst them, and though times were hard and we were often persecuted, I would not count them among my enemy. No, I pity them. They were the first to fall, and I do not blame them for fleeing their accursed land."

"You've travelled? But-"

"I need not travel in the body to see that in the spirit which Oyaltun shows me," Eirene said quickly. "The Ürkün are just men of a different language and creed. But their masters…"

Turning a corner, they entered a new corridor and looped around, like the expanding rings of a tree's trunk. Here, the quality of murals and mosaics was better preserved. They displayed the separation of seas, the shaping of the land, and finally, the rise of humankind upon Oyaltun's blessing. Next, was rendered the retirement of the pantheon to the heavens, whereupon they languished in golden temples and crystalline gardens, forever worshiped by their mortal children below.

Finally, at the next corner was a familiar mural–similar to that which depicted the Gods first descent. Three fiery stars fell from a black sky. One trailed green, another was large and dim, painted to seem distant, yet radiant, larger than its brethren. The third caught his attention the most. It possessed a black core and trailed a silver flame.

Eirene stopped by the mural and watched him keenly for a reaction. Skippii felt like he was expected to say something, but very little of significance came to mind.

"This one repeats," he said. "The Gods, coming to earth."

"No," she whispered. "If only that were true. This is the most recent mural. It is mine. I painted it from visions. These too are Gods descended from the heavens. But they are not the Gods of the pantheon you know in Auctoritas. They did not submit the Primordials. They came from an entirely different star consolation. The Gods which I painted are new invaders. They arrived in centuries not long past. They are depraved and merciless, and have come to wage a second War of Heavens for dominion over earth."

She fixed him with stoney eyes. "And that is why the Primordials have reawoken, and why you have risen, Son of Cor. Heres of fire."

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