Council of the Damned

Footsteps sounded throughout the stone brick corridor, each click echoing off the floors and walls until eventually fading into silence. Black robes with embellished gold swung gracefully within its dimness, pointed ears and violet hair peaking from beneath its hood surrounded by the void of light.

Celeandra glanced at her sparse surroundings as she journeyed further into the fortress.

Outlines and echoes of lavish decorations dotted the hall in regular intervals, most of them having long been repurposed beyond mere vanity after this place's initial capture. The only things left were a few sconces that lined the now familiar walls, but they did little to light the way forward. Rather, she relied on her senses to navigate the complex, maneuvering her way through the labyrinth-like halls.

She reminisced as she walked, compiling her thoughts.

A week had passed since their failed raid at Lerwood, but she'd still been hard at work since then. A day after recovering from her newest projection technique, it'd been right into the fray again, coordinating their vast organization and ensuring their plans proceeded as usual.

After all, she couldn't afford to dawdle. Not while this world remained so.

Her footsteps stopped as she arrived at her destination.

Its solid wood doors loomed in front of her, a threshold she'd grown rather fond of since they'd acquired this place. They were made of leyoak: old-growth of about a millennium, roughly the same age as her.

Her hand reached out to push against it, pondering what sorts of things it had borne witness to before its death.

How many tragedies had occurred within its lifetime? How many lives had ended beneath tyranny? How much progress had been rewound?

It creaked warily as it gave beneath her touch, opening to a room lined with Diluvian members. Light shined in through stained glass, illuminating the long central table in a prismatic hue.

It was time.

"Order," she called as she stepped inward, tendrils of water conjuring behind her to close the door. "What is our headcount?"

A few nods and murmurs were her response as she descended the landing and onto the carpet.

One of the robed figures stood up: Rathgara, white feline ears twitching beneath her hood as she confirmed in a booming voice.

"Six is our headcount, Sect-Head Celeandra. Including you, all high leadership are present."

"Good." She motioned for her to sit before taking her own at the head of the table, glancing over each one of them.

Outside of their cause and struggles, there was little shared among most of them. Race, age, home, profession, magic—each differed down the line in some form, each had their own stories.

She smiled at that aspect, the one that gave them strength despite the cruelty of the world, and the one that would grant them all salvation.

"In that case, let us commence."

It began like it usually did. One by one, each regional leader gave their update in detail, listing over what had been accomplished and what needed to be done.

Most were recruitment numbers, others were the results of raids or about the Ardents that hounded their every move, and a few were the actions of the Duke-Governor's forces who were currently poising themselves for another 'recruitment' run through the outer towns.

However, the most interesting update was to be given by the figure at the other end of the table. The sect's second strongest member, her direct lieutenant, and the one that had led the Lerwood raid.

She nodded once it was finally fine for them to stand, granting them the right to begin.

"Reathe, if you would. Inform us what happened."

After a playful chuckle, they shot a wink at her, all too happy to oblige. They flourished with a twirl as they got up, letting their hood fall to their shoulders.

Silver eyes, a glowing gem, and white twintails were revealed, dancing in conjured air as they began.

"Thank you, dear leader~" they hummed as they levitated up from their seat.

A handful of the shutters in the room suddenly opened in a draft, summoning a few sparrows to flutter in and rest on Reathe's shoulders.

"I shall start with the bad news first: our primary goals in Lerwood ended in failure."

They shook their head dramatically, letting out a long and defeated sounding breath.

"We only managed a couple dozen souls this time from our surviving members and their vessel gems; the promising candidates we obtained were unfortunately released—reclaimed by the matron knight-baroness and some additional help; and we lost nearly thirty of our number. Although, I suppose it was to be expected even with the precautions we took."

Concerned whispers began to circulate as Reathe closed their eyes, indulging in the build-up and knowingly raising their brow to Celeandra from across the table.

She afforded herself an internal chuckle at the dramatics.

Of course, she already knew what was to come despite the initial grimness. Reathe had filled her in immediately upon returning in person a day ago. They'd apparently gathered a fair amount more intelligence at Lerwood out of pure curiosity, and what they'd discovered was nothing short of extraordinary.

Despite the sleepless nights worrying, it'd truly been a stroke of fortune that her lieutenant had taken much longer than usual to reincorporate. Who knew being splattered and trapped beneath a boulder was one of their weaknesses?

Reathe cleared their throat once the whispers died down, readying to continue as they gestured the wind to tousle hair and fabric.

"As for the good news though? Well, my dear companions, we might not have needed those candidates at all. The last piece to our predicament could be much clearer and much closer than thought!"

Several brows were raised at the statement.

The room's eyes were on them now, silence enveloping the room like a blanket as a spring returned to their voice.

"Fufufu, that's right. All of our years of searching—all of our very unsuccessful attempts at locating potent divine essence—it has potentially come to an end!"

They propelled themselves into the air, corporeal form giving way as their elemental side took over in the excitement. The sparrows took flight, fluttering free to rest within the rafters.

"You might be asking, 'What do you mean, our wonderous Reathe? Can such a thing really be true?' Well, I can certainly hazard so. After all, a little birdie on my shoulder told me something rather interesting~"

They conjured up the image of the two oddities from the raid: a brown-haired man with warm eyes, and a black-haired woman with grey ones.

A few rumblings and mutters broke the silence as speculation seeped in.

Stahl, an obsidian-haired figure with horns the size of his overgrown biceps rose, cleared his throat and pointed at the illusions.

"These two have divine essence? Are you certain? They don't look like much to me."

Reathe giggled at the annoyance in his tone. "Certain? Oh, you loveable hardhead~ I've gleaned enough souls in our harvests to tell when something's strange, and our dear leader likely sensed it too. I'd say… maybe 70-30 odds? I can confirm more with enough time."

The minotaur-man grunted before another figure stood up, a woman with white hair, red eyes, and a frigidness that bit into every word she spoke.

"You dance around meaning like those bureaucrats," she spat, eyeing the half-elementaling. "Tell us plainly. Why do you think they have enough divine essence?"

They shot a pout back to her, miming hurt with a hand over their chest.

"Frivera? To think you've compared me to those devil-pigs… But fine. I shall elaborate."

Reathe gestured again to the illusions, a grin creeping over their face as they prepared the final nail.

"These two might be worldwalkers."

Quiet descended over the room again, although this time, not even breaths could be heard.

"Worldwalkers?" Rathgara asked. "Like the ones from the legends? Does that mean…"

Reathe looked about to answer the tigrin's inquiry, but Celeandra waved them off, bidding them to let her take over.

"You would be correct, Rathgara; if so, they would undoubtedly be compatible with the artifact. Unfortunately though, it seems both Lerwood's matron knight-baroness and her vice-captain are aware of their potential nature too. They've taken to training them."

A shiver ran through the room at their mention.

"Y-you can't be serious. Those two are monsters! N-not even your newest projection technique was enough to tip the scales. And that was with Reathe there!"

She raised a brow at the naysayer: Whisper, the last of their leadership, and their newest member. His tail flicked back and forth nervously, noticeable even from within his small-statured robes.

"Um, not to question your ability, leader. It's just that—"

Celeandra waved him off. "You need not worry about letting your thoughts known. We are not like the tyrants that chain this world with their whims. It is a valid point."

She continued once the kobold's whiskers returned to normal, eased by the reassurance.

"Whisper speaks true; those two's histories make them impressive for the mere town they lead. The misfortune of them taking these potential worldwalkers beneath their wing is significant, and that will be no trifling obstacle to overcome. Even if I could be there in person instead of a projection, I'm unsure as to who would be victorious."

The room bowed to her as she stood to her feet.

"However, it is unlikely they truly know the value of worldwalkers outside the myths that have been lain—especially their worth to us. Plus, Reathe has already honed in on a few things we can exploit. They've already begun planning for how to best approach things."

The person in question smiled as air twisted around them in delight. "Fufu, Celeandra is correct. I can go over a few points now if you'd like. If they are worldwalkers, their skills still appear weak, so it's possible…"

Pointed ears perked as the birds in the rafters stirred above them. Then a noise, something barely perceptible amidst the flamboyance of Reathe's speech.

Celeandra's eyes darted to where it'd come from in the darkness.

The rest of her council seemed to notice her shift, but before they could leap into action, she'd already sent a projectile flying into the air.

A wet gurgle and clutching of fabric sounded immediately after, plummeting a small, cloaked woman from the rafters straight through the light and to the table below.

The solid wood shook as she hit it, knocking down a few cups and trinkets.

"Another one of the Duke-Governor's spies it seems. Clever bastard, using a ghaul-gnome."

She willed water and fire to surround the uninvited guest, circling and darting like serpents as the gnome choked for breath.

Their eyes locked for a moment, Celeandra's own glowing a tad as she delved into the woman's soul.

Snippets of their meeting's details flashed in her vision, shaky hands clutching tight as they scrawled as much information as possible.

Then it shifted, many memories blending into one. The kick of a bootheel, the lashing of tongues, the threat of death. Each chipped at the gnome's soul, shaping it.

The last memory surged.

Her partner's throat was crushed, the man's eyes fading as their taskmaster laughed. Then to a prisonbed, kept barely alive and promised both healing and release upon the impossible: three successful missions.

Tears dripped down the gnome's cheek.

This was to have been her third.

Celeandra stepped back, exhaling as her magic withdrew. The spy was sobbing uncontrollably now and staring at her with a pleading gaze.

"P-please. I beg of you. Let me go. I'll spread lies—tell them whatever you want me to. I can even return once we're free!"

The others simply stared, unwilling to act at the spectacle.

For the briefest of moments, she pondered the idea. The gnome was skilled enough to return twice with valid info of their operations. Slipping in falsehoods could be easy enough with that competence and whatever trust she possessed.

However.

"I am sorry."

She ended her swiftly, the only mercy she could grant.

Five sets of eyes laid upon her as the agent's worthy soul was swallowed, absorbed into her twilight gem like thousands of similar others to prepare the artifact.

"Leader!" Rathgara's voice echoed through the hall. "I apologize if I'm stepping out of line, but did her proposal not make sense? We need all the allies we can muster!"

Her hand raised to calm the tigrin, heaviness still weighing its movement.

"Her heart belonged to no allegiance, no cause, no nation. It belonged to a doomed man, one who is beneath their thumb."

Fury glowed in her eyes for a spell, the gnome's memories lingering in her mind.

"Besides, it was useless. They were both dead already." She tsked as she walked.

"We all know the duke-bastard never keeps his word. Especially to aberrations like us."

The room's tension simmered as she moved back, hand clutched to her forehead in acceptance.

"Now then, our meeting is adjourned. Rathgara and Stahl, be on standby and leave the administration of your regions to your commanders and Frivera for the time being. Whisper, keep an eye on the Ardents and dukedom forces."

She looked to her lieutenant last. "And Reathe, finish your plans and be prepared to put them into action before the week's end—especially since all factions are on the move. We must end things before they're ready, lest they grow too powerful to deal with easily."

Footsteps faded up the stairs and to the landing, ending before the doors once more. Celeandra rested her hand upon it, feeling the grains of the felled wood.

"We will unchain this cursed existence."