NEXUS: King of Warkinles

Prologue

The only presence on the mountain was the wind.

It moaned and howled around mountain peaks, slithered between cracks in the stones, and stirred up the otherwise smooth snow layer. This high up, there was nothing to stop its journey. The only obstacle in its path was the derelict temple that clung to the mountainside.

A mighty structure it was no longer. Time and the elements have done their work over the countless centuries: scattering tiles and crumbling walls, collapsing spires and heralding its slow decay. The only thing they hadn't taken from it was its pride. Patches of tiles on the roof still rippled like the sea. The spires that remained stood tall above the clouds. It was a battle of attrition, one that any structure, no matter how proud, would lose.

But then, we arrived.

As one of the first deities to appear, I got to see it all. There was nothing fancy about my arrival; a simple manifestation, a couple leaves floating around for flavor.

My concern was punctuality rather than performance. Oh, how the others would've laughed at that.

I watched as they arrived, vaulting through the windows or materializing dramatically. Even after all that happened these last two millennia, they're still trying to outdo each other, competing like petty children.

The more of us that arrived, the more the temple hosting us snapped to attention. It was a shoddy affair, an old temple of Nasin's that fell to the wayside. To be honest, it surprised me it was still standing. But as we settled in, time became undone around us. Tiles flew back to the roofs and turrets, shimmering blue like the sky or sea. Pillars and columns that'd collapsed to rubble rebuilt; mosaics defiled and destroyed restored themselves to order and beauty. By the time we'd all settled in, it looked as though finished only yesterday.

After two thousand years, the Council gathered once again.

We sat in the amphitheater, a room made of four Rings. As an important deity, I sat in the Second Ring. But oh, how I wished I could be in the First. Then again, so did many of my fellows, and Nasin would have none of that.

Speaking of whom...

A brilliant blaze of golden light erupted from his empty seat, drawing our attention while we shielded our eyes. A moment later, the spectacle dimmed to show a man with skin of bronze and hair of fire, dressed in a white tunic.

He then banged his war hammer. "The Council is now in session! Deities, sound off," he declared.

Confirmations sounded from us all, myself included. But in the silence that followed, I sensed tension crackling around the Rings; deities muttering to themselves, or each other, trading glares and silent mental messages.

I huffed a breath and put a hand to my head. I told Nasin a century ago to change the seating arrangement, but that stubborn sunspot refused. I heard him sigh to himself as he sensed the tension.

Good. Maybe next time, he'll listen to me.

"Alright, everyone, settle down!" he ordered, cutting in just before anyone could act on their impulses. He earned a couple glares for his intrusion, but they stilled regardless. "Let us clear the air before we blow each other off the mountain." He weighed his gaze on each of us before continuing. "The last two millennia have been rough, I know. There have been some... disputes between us that got carried away."

"'Carried away', indeed," scoffed a voice. "It was war! We almost destroyed the world!"

Nasin stiffened at the interruption, and I chortled to myself at the fool who dared interrupt him.

"Indeed. However, I believe we're all past that now, and we may resume our divine duties. After all, that is why we formed this Council. To ensure the security of our world, and to govern it wisely."

Another deity, belonging to the first Ring, rose to her feet and challenged. "Not all of us can forgive and forget, Nasin. And not all of us want to." Her words stirred our fellows, some scoffing at her words, others supporting them.

Myself, I rolled my eyes and kept silent. Daena was always a cattier goddess, fickle as the weather she controlled.

"Be as that may," Nasin said, his own fiery glare matching her stormy gaze, "we are a Warkinlesian. We must put individual wants and needs aside when the Council is in session. You'd do well to remember that, Daena."

Her porcelain features grew as dark as her hair, but she sat and accepted his reprimand without a word.

"Now, does anyone else have a complaint for the Council to address?" Funny enough, no one did. "Good. Let us continue. Status reports, everyone!"

With Creation putting the pieces back together after our last... disagreement—It was important we met universal constants, reestablish natural routines. And mostly, we had; the seasons were back on track, with winter being cold, summer hot, etc. The tides flowed as they should. The sun rose and set. Everything was returning to normal, thank the Warkinlesians for that.

And yet... there was still something off with the Council. It was a poison coursing under the surface of conversation. Jokes and quips were met with a forced, halfhearted laughter. Certain deities jumped or flinched when addressed. Even Nasin, as unshakable as the sun, showed evidence of strain. However, he refused to acknowledge it, as usual.

"Everything seems in order," he concluded as our last reports came in. "Now, we may move onto other pressing matters." The Council grew silent once again as he continued, "This war in the Forest of Tudar is... troubling. With the—" He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders "Struggle we recently overcame, no one has assessed the situation. What does the Council say on this matter?"

"Another war is the last thing we need!" proclaimed a deity in the form of an animated suit of armor. He banged his fist on the wall separating his Ring. "We put the pieces of our world back together, and it is at stake yet again!"

Cries of agreement and argument broke out, but grew silent as Nasin's war hammer struck through the noise.

"Is there any way we can get control of the situation?" I asked. Once again it's my task to be the voice of reason. "What's all this about, anyway?"

"Something about territorial rights, last time I checked," answered a scholarly deity from the First Ring. "And we can't, Veshna. They aren't a part of Warkinles. Too right they weren't. One was the equivalent of a rebellious child, and the other was a bloody tree! To infringe on the affairs of independent deities right now could make things... messy."

"There must be something we can do, Tesla," argued the suit of armor again, his voice hollow like clanking metal. "I refuse to let all our hard work go to waste because of a child and a tree."

"If it were up to you, Vurja," Tesla said, glaring up at the suit of armor, "we would have another crusade, and make the situation even worse!"

Murmurs and mumbles from the surrounding gods grew into shouting matches with haste. Nasin and a few others among the First Ring deities tried their best to regain order, but to no avail. Tensions and feuds lasting literal centuries were about to burst, and nothing save the mountain coming down around us would stop them.

But then, it almost did.

Just before the arguing reached a fevered pitch, the entire mountain shook. Everything within the temple walls quaked, spires crumbling and tiles being shook off the roofs to shatter on the floor. It lasted but a few moments, but it was enough to silence a now rattled Warkinlesians.

A goddess from the First Ring, wearing a dress of moss and earth, rose from her seat. Except her being ten feet tall, she almost resembled an ordinary human woman, much different from the many bestial or elemental forms around us. Her face was plain, her body rounded from childbirth, but she still radiated with power and love.

"Calm yourselves, my children," she said in a booming yet gentle voice. "You forget yourselves. You let fear poison you, and I will not let it continue. Though we have been through much these last few millennia, it is not the Struggle, or reestablishing the world order that has made you fret so. We must discuss the heart of the matter, so we may proceed without fear."

None spoke, too startled or afraid to give themselves a voice. After all, it wasn't often Yguid, Mother Earth, spoke. But when she did, even gods listened.

Finally, a goddess made of stardust and starlight rose, and the Council's attention shifted to her.

"I will say it, Mother Yguid, I will say what we have ignored, all these years."

Her voice, timid for a deity, died at the angry mutters that broke out over her words. But Yquin nodded her head in encouragement, and the goddess found her voice once more.

"The last two thousand years have been a time of conflict, a time of change. But beyond our infighting, and the world healing from the damage we caused, we found ample reason to fear. The Old Ones, our predecessors from time immemorial, were stirring from their slumber. The Pagans sought to move against us, seeking to undermine our power. Yet something else stirred beneath it all. Our oldest, greatest fear will soon come true."

More murmurs broke out, these tainted with fear and dread. I kept silent, holding my breath, hoping beyond hope what Mhelia was saying wasn't true. Yet she continued, "Eons ago, when many of us were but concepts, we waged a terrible battle. Worse than the Struggle, worse than any war that has come before, or may come after. We've sacrificed much to resolve it, but the stars have aligned, and the threads of fate are clear. All our efforts will soon be in vain unless we act now."

Mhelia took a deep breath, to steel her nerves for what she was about to say. The Council held its breath, and with it all of Creation, waiting for her dreaded words to arrive.

"I speak of Sarum, Lord of Calamity, God of Destruction. He will soon return."

The entire Council fell into chaos. Screams tore through the air as did panicked gibbering, swearing oaths, and every manner of noise that accompanies a divine rout. Forms changed and wavered as gods sought to escape the confines of the amphitheater, to hide or run or even fight. It took a long time, and a fair deal of magic, to bring us down from our hysterics.

Eventually, everyone returned to their respective Rings, though our panic was only just contained.

"We have much to fear from the God of Destruction," Nasin said, his voice grave, his face dire. "We all made great sacrifices to ensure his capture, and his imprisonment. However, we achieve his goals by giving into fear! We mustn't let it consume us. We must fight!"

"No, we must not!" Tesla countered, and the terror surrounding us shattered as we groaned in exasperation.

And, I admit, I shared their annoyance; this wasn't the first time Tesla complicated what should've been a simple course of action.

"When we first defeated..." Tesla cleared his throat and forced the words out. "When we first defeated Sarum, the chaos it caused was acceptable. Back then, our world was at its infancy. What we destroyed, we could fix or change. Often, such changes were for the better. But look at us now. It took two thousand years for us to fix the mess we made. Two thousand years—And, there's humanity to consider. Another divine war would mean genocide, and that is something I will not allow."

"Since when have you cared for humanity, Tesla?" challenged a swaying, drunken blonde goddess. "You're more in love with your books that any human."

"Since nearly half of us are only here because of humanity, Melody, we should care a great deal."

To our delight, Melody rocked back from my retort, and grew silent. But the pleasure was fleeting as the gravity of the situation weighed us down again.

"I agree with Tesla," said a deity from the First Ring. Teinara, Emissary of Humanity, rose to her feet, drawing our attention to her. Hers was a humble form, compared to some of those present: that of a slim young woman with sable brown hair. But the weight behind those eyes, the power behind all of our gazes, would correct any mistakes one may have about her true nature. "Humans have many strengths, but are only mortal. They lost much of what they once were because of our infighting. They've only just started relearning old truths. Another divine war with the Lord of Calamity would mean their end."

"My realm is backlogged as it is," added Devasnu, the horned, shadow cloaked god of the dead. "Adding all of mankind all at once would be disastrous." He then sniffed and shook his head, adding, "Not that it matters. That monstrosity would destroy everything. Even the dead."

"A ray of sunshine, as always, Devasnu," Tienara snarked. Devasnu, however, was unflappable, only replying with that fathomless, penetrating stare of his. Not even the spunky Emissary could hold out against those baleful orange eyes, and she wilted under his gaze.

"Well, those are good points, all around, but there's an even more important reason we shouldn't just off humanity," commented Commerciant, the literal golden god of commerce. "The extinction of humanity means the extinction of business! It could even mean the death of Warkinlesians!"

Silence, save the faint moaning of the wind.

"And I thought I was dramatic," muttered Astur the peacock, ruffling his feathers.

"Alright, alright, everyone!" Nasin snapped, returning our attention back to him. "So an all out assault on Sarum is out of the question. What does the Council propose we do, then?"

"What of the keys?" I asked. "Are they safe?"

It was a good question, seeing as they were the only things keeping the world from utter annihilation. The keys bound Sarum to his tomb, objects of incredible magical power. But regardless, we looked among each other in confusion for confirmation. Despite their importance, much to my chagrin, no one's checked them for millennia.

By the Plains, I doubt anyone even thought to check until now. We turned our attention to Mhelia for answers.

Her gaze became blank as she saw into planes not even us gods could peer into, then sharpened again. "The keys remain, for now. However, Sarum seeks to retrieve them, to free himself from his prison. And I fear, unless we act, he will succeed..."

"Impossible!" Daena cried out. "How can he act, bound and asleep?"

"Nothing as powerful as a god truly sleeps," Tesla said. "It is the same with the Old Ones. There's always a part of them awake, scheming and plotting and dreaming."

"Either way, we have a crisis on our hands!" Vulja shouted again. "We can't sit idly by whilst this happens. We must act!"

"Action without thought is nothing short of foolishness," Tesla chided. "There are many variables, many details we must consider before we take any course of action."

"Easy for you to say, you dusty bibliophile," Vurja retorted. "You sit and read your books, while we remain below, doing something proactive!"

"Oh, go polish yourself, you creaky piece of scrap metal," Tesla snapped.

Like oil to fire, the Council once again erupted into arguing. With the truth out in the open, any desire to hide frayed nerves fell away. The air, already charged with our collective power, became saturated with magic as some prepared to attack.

My own temper surged within me, sharpened by fear and exasperation. I rose to my feet, shouting an arcane command and waving my hand. Vines erupted from the stonework surrounding the gods that were fighting and shouting. Even those in more ethereal forms were bound. Everyone glared at me, their collective wrath enough to make entire nations crumble to dust.

But I stood firm. "I'm not letting you out until this Council has regained control over itself!" One might ask how I could trap all these deities.

Simply put, I couldn't, but they were so distracted by their panic and wayward emotions that they forgot they could very easily escape. Like a slow wave everyone stilled and grew calmer. Another wave of my hand, and the vines retreated, repairing the stonework in the process, as though they'd never existed.

"Thank you," Nasin said, nodding in gratitude. I nodded in acknowledgement, smoothed over my dress as I composed myself, and sat once more.

"While we may not endanger our world or humanity, we must still act. I'm willing to hear any thoughts on how to best proceed, as is the rest of the Council."

"Well, it's obvious," Caspian said. "We must protect the keys. As long as they're safe, that old shaft head can't wake up, right?"

"Yes, but do we still know where they are?" I asked. "Call me mad, but I doubt several powerful relics would stay in the same place for thousands of years. Who knows what could've happened?"

"I assume they're well protected. I made them, after all," said a muscular, dark-skinned god. He tapped the handle of his own hammer, its head resting on the ground, with one long, calloused finger.

"Yes, we noticed you had little to do with this after you played your part, Kalban," I said.

Kalban shrugged, the movement making his bare muscles ripple. "I did my job, same as everyone else. I'd have kept them in my forge, where I'd know they'd be safe."

"Ah, yes, what a great idea. Let's keep them all in one place so anyone can just waltz in and take them," I countered. I then scoffed, shaking my head and added, "Talk about putting all your eggs in one basket."

Nasin interjected, before the Council could blow up again. "We must assume the keys are at risk. We must retrieve them and bring them to the Council. I suggest we choose a champion to retrieve them."

"Why bring a human into this at all?" Caspian asked. "We're gods, aren't we? Why not just pop in and take them?" Everyone looked at their neighbors and shrugged, as though asking, "Why not?"

Tesla sighed and rubbed his temples. "When we made the keys, I enchanted them to keep that from happening. If any divine entity were to approach the keys, save their guardians, they'd vanish and reappear in a random, equally perilous location."

"You enchant them, you unenchant them. Easy."

Tesla huffed. "How are you so stupid, yet so good with money? I would, save no deity can approach them, myself included. A mortal agent would have to remove the enchantment first. Then we may handle them and hide them again."

"I still think they'd be safer at my forge," Kalban said to himself.

Regardless, Tesla heard, and turned to face him and counter. "That's exactly why I enchanted them in the first place!" Then, fearlessly addressing the entire Warkinlesians. "Aside from Sarum, and perhaps a Pagan, the greatest threat to the keys is ourselves. Unlike the rest of you, I acknowledge my own faults and sins. Anyone of us can fall to corruption and use the keys for our own ends."

Silence descended upon the Council, either in quiet contemplation or offended speechlessness. While I didn't think his words applied to me, I understood where he came from. Most of the troublemakers weren't a part of Warkinles. But I could think of a few idiots who'd try something like that.

Nasin broke the silence. "Then what shall we do with the keys?" he asked in a weary voice.

"I agree we must retrieve them. But I refused to let any single deity have them. They must stay with the Council until we find safer resting places for them," Tesla replied.

"Then all that's left is to choose a champion."

The moment those words left his lips, though, Nasin regretted them. The Council broke out into a dissonant chorus of voices, all trying to make their ideas known. Opinions clashed, as they're opt to do, and discord broke out once more.

I realized then that Vulja was right. We had to do something, and soon. While the Council-rather, the Warkinles as a whole-formed to promote democracy, we'd sooner fight among ourselves than decide on a course of action. We would do nothing, and all the while Sarum would continue unchallenged, rising once more and destroying the world.

The solution I soon thought of was borderline blasphemous. It meant going behind the Warkinlesian's back, a near guaranteed way to find myself expelled, even stripped of my titles. But I did not spend the last two thousand years healing our world to see it undone in a few short years, or even months. This was something that required both mortal and immortal hands, a thought many, if not all of my fellows would laugh at.

Either way, the time to act is now. Sarum is stirring. Neither divine or earthly forces can prevent it alone.

This is to be of Gods and people of Warkinles.