A clerk for the Elder Council of Hydref rushed down the hall, a stack of papers in her hand. She paused a moment before she entered the council chambers, straightening her suit jacket, dusting off her shoulders to make sure none of her feathers had stuck to it, then she walked into the chamber.

The Elder Fae in the chamber studied her, as did the handful of non-faerie members of the council. One of them made a swift gesture, and the door snapped shut behind her. She bobbed her head in a bow to each member of the council.

"Clerk Alderson," the head of the council said. He appeared very similar to an elf, but was possessed of an unearthly beauty and grace, an appeal that people would have gone to war over. "Please give your report."

She began to go over the events of the battle, and Feat Lienn, the orcish dean of the only Erudite College in Hydref, listened with rapt interest. She tapped her fingers along the rim of her Erudite's Throne, a pile of polished white bones.

"Good on Henry. I didn't think he had the stones for it, but I guess I can see why his personal power is consistently top three. Alright. Clerk Alderson, your request for time off has been partially denied."

Moira Alderson frowned. She'd been hoping to get the time to visit her son, but she'd known when she'd put in the request that there was a chance of this happening. The summer solstice was a busy time for the council, and she was a well performing clerk.

"Hold on, don't get it twisted around. I said it was partially denied. We'll still give you the week of the solstice off. But there's no need for you to take off extra time for travelling to and from Cendel."

She looked up at the tall, muscular woman, while the other members of the Elder Council simply sat there, patiently. This was, apparently, not news to any of them.

"During the solstice, we will open a gateway between the region of Grand Trees, a scant score of leagues from the Citadel of Ether," another member of the council said.

Elder Tywyll was an ancient crone, gnarled and bent, like a witch from a faerie tale. She had powerful hag magics, as well as a great skill over human spellcraft, and some skill with the psychic arts. When she spoke, every member of the council, from the lowest to the leader, turned and listened to her. She was also Moira's direct employer, and the reason her son even had a future to look forward to.

"As my venerable colleague said," the head of the council said. "That should allow you ample time to visit your son, and will allow us to arrange improved trade deals."

"Excellent," Moira said. "I'll let my husband know immediately. When should we depart?"

---

A powerful priest, bound by pact and service to three separate dark gods, raised his right hand, in which he clutched a crude flint dagger. In the other hand, he gently stroked the neck of the girl he had kidnapped from the small village.

"You don't need to be afraid any longer…"

As he whispered the words, he plunged the blade into the soft, warm flesh of her throat. He lowered his mouth to the open wound and took a lick of the child's lifeblood, even as the hot liquid rushed along the stone altar, through ancient grooves and channels, forming into the symbols of his patrons.

He shuddered and gasped as the power of the sacrifice rushed into him, spiraling up to the crown of his head, where the three dark gods whispered their will to him.

The war with the Dreki family had been a great boon, allowing him to take from everyone: small farming hamlets locking themselves away from the war, large cities that the family had raided, and medium towns where the people had been just big enough to target while too small to fight back.

The Dreki family had even burned down the largest temple in Summerbone, and he had been lucky enough to be able to hear the screaming of the ones trapped in the temple as it burned. He and his gods had been able to do good work there, laying a powerful ward that stopped the arrogant, pretentious, conceited faithful of Effervesce from working the pompous god's miracles.

But all good times must come to an end. The Dreki Matriarch had joined the rank of the Blessed Ones, which should have been enough to topple full regions of Cendel, but she'd been killed by that cursed Erudite before she could escape to the region beyond the wall.

"Show me the way," the priest prayed, reaching out to the gods as a swirling flame, colored like the spill of an oil slick on water, began to consume the body of his latest sacrifice. As she was burnt away, the priest studied over the augury boon, the scattering of ashes upon the ancient stone table, and how they mixed with the bloodsoaked symbols.

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They resolved into shapes, and the priest's arm twitched.

The boy.

His son's face was there, reflected in the oil, ash, blood, and stone.

He let out a loud, winding, cackling laugh, kissing the stone altar, even as the pattern of the ashes shifted to show where he must go.

It was time to leave Summerbone, with its weak connection to Etherius. He must venture to Ocean Spires, and to the Citadel of Ether.

---

Claire Dreki walked through the partially collapsed wreckage of the palace that had once been her mother's.

After her mother had died, the magically enhanced strength and toughness that had made the palace's marble support pillars tougher than steel and a better building material than granite had vanished, causing some of the foundations to fall in on themselves, creating a maze of half-buried and sealed rooms.

Younger members of the family were fighting up top, but Claire was a member of the second generation. As far as she could tell, she was the only member of such an old generation still alive after their mother had taken her fire back from them. She had been lucky, away in the court of the Divine King during the battle, and his powerful wards and defenses had stopped her mother from reaching her.

It meant that she was, as far as she knew, the only one alive who knew of the bloodflame braziers, ancient artifacts from the Age of Sunder. Only those among the eldest five generations, who proved themselves talented, loyal, and powerful, had even been told of them.

The others knew of a few other of her mother's relics, like the blade from the Age of the Wilds, enchanted with the very concept of cutting. That was a neat party trick, certainly, but it was nothing more than that. While her siblings bickered over it, over the mountains of gold and silver, over the far more valuable signed deeds, bonds, and inheritances, Claire sought out the bloodflame braziers.

Once she had her hands on one, and could ignite the flame within, linking it to her own, she could begin evolving her bloodline. She had always held off, as the evolution came at a price, one she had never thought she would be willing to pay. If she had, then her siblings would have used the temporary weakness as an excuse to push her out, kick her from her mother's circle of closely knit advisors and eldest children.

But now, as the only elder remaining alive, she could take that risk. Even if her fire was weakened for just over two years, she would still be stronger than any member of the family, especially with all of them so weakened by their mother's thievery.

She pulled her hand back, drawing flame through her body, and ripped through the earth, tearing her way down until she stood in a sunken hall, before a hidden vault door. She allowed the corners of her mouth to curl up into a smile.

"The Dreki Family needs a new Matriarch…"

---

A woman climbed the long, winding steps up the golden tower in the center of Shen Long. She had completed the ninth compression of her perpetual core, and was powerfully gifted with her marsh element.

But the raw yang chi emanating from the power of the Divine King was difficult, even for someone as strong as she was. It seemed more intense than the last time she had arrived here. Still she persevered.

One step after another, she climbed the tower, until at last, she arrived at the open air pavilion atop the glowing golden tower. The twin guards of the Divine King, both Nascent Immortals wielding divine-forged weaponry, held out their hands, and the woman threw herself to the ground, prostrating herself before them.

"Enter," the voice of the Divine King boomed. It was a deep, resonant, and above all, confident tone. This land was his, and there was nothing that could challenge him.

The woman rose and entered, her eyes downcast, not daring to look upon the king. She began to give her report on the fall of the Dreki matriarch at the hands of the Erudite. There was a flare of light and heat then, as the Divine King shifted.

Once she had finished the official report, the woman broached a topic with some nerves, fearful of being right, but even more fearful of failing to tell him at all.

"There was a girl there, your radiance. When I saw her, I thought nothing of it. I believed her to simply be a companion of the rebel Dreki. Some deceptive barbarian trick kept her bloodline hidden from me, her face seemed altered, and she seemed to be an ordinary wind cultivator under the tutelage of the local head of the Shé clan. But amidst the combat, the barbarian magic fell apart, just for a moment, and I smelled the taint of the Traitor Wyrm."

"Look at me," the Divine King commanded, and the woman lifted her eyes from the floor, gazing upon her monarch and god.

The Divine King appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, with short cropped hair, a handsome, angular face, and glowing golden eyes. The light around him warped and danced, burning with the presence of his impossibly intense yang chi, his power as a half-step heavenly immortal clear to her spiritual sense.

"You have done well to root out the spawn of my brother," he said, and his voice was gentle, though still resonant with power. He raised a single finger, and it sharpened into a point, which he used to prick the pad of his opposite thumb. A golden drop of ichor pooled on the tip of his finger, which he allowed to fall.

Instantly, one of his servants, a peak energy drawing man with soft features and blood red hair, appeared, catching the drop in a chalice, and presenting it to her. She took it with reverence.

The mix of intense chi, divine power, and burning bright bloodline magic from the single drop was enough to shake her to her core.

As she watched, a half dozen other energy drawing servants appeared, adding things into the chalice. Herbs of pungent licorice and sugar, a stone from the central mine of a mighty mountain, healing water from a hot spring of wood chi, the core of a spirit beast, and other things besides. They spun in the chalice, and within moments, the drop of blood had absorbed them all, transforming into a smooth, polished golden pill.

"This pill shall aid you in the breaking of your perpetual core, and allow you to step into the realm of the nascent immortal," the Divine King informed her. "Take it. You will be returning to Cendel. I will have my niece returned to me. If need be, you will burn the nation down to its last man."

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