The Battle for Everyone's Soul

[Requiem of Insanity]

Closed to those I invite

High above the skies of Althanas, upon another plane of existence, was where the Thaynes congregated. Here the gods of Althanas, major, minor, or simple, they all existed within the realm known as the Pantheon. In this vaulted realm all who created and forever watched over the mortals of Althanas gazed from their perch’s at the ones who follow them. Some guide their wayward followers while others plot and scheme. Many have given up on the mortal world, finding no value to be worshiped or acknowledged by the lives of those who came and went as the breeze.

Within the hallowed halls of gold and brilliant rays of light sat a man in a deep purple robe, his face masked by the hood that covered him. The only indication he was venerable in his age was a beard that stuck out of the blackness of the veil. The never ending sound of tick and tock echoed around him, the soft shifting of a gear cranking and turning adding to cacophony of noise within the small room. With reverence he lifted up a long brown hand crafted box with ornate letters written in a dead language. He blew across the box, though the motion was more a silly habit than anything else for the Pantheon was meticulously clean and dirt did not exist. He placed the box before him, fingers touching each curve on the box in a lover’s caress.

Today was a special day. He had been challenged by another one of the Pantheon to play in a game of his own making. A simple game that involved intense thinking, strategy, and execution that had a tendency to run for hundreds of years. Though time had no meaning within the Pantheon, and in this room the passing of years was crawled to a halt. A little charm he had conjured up with a favor to the God of Time. It only cost him a cult of worshipers in the mortal world. He did not need them, and by a stroke of luck another God happened to give ‘divine inspiration’ to a warlord to go eradicate them. A lucky day that was.

Nevertheless, the opponent was a common foe of his estranged game; one of the few people who played him with any regularity. As of late though his comrade had been busy with attempts to gain entry into the restricted section of the Vault of Wisdom. Bromier, God of Wisdom, had compiled every scrap of information in the world. Mortal lineages, no matter how much people wished to burn or erase Black Sheep, could be traced. Events that had taken place and lost to time were recorded with posterity and accuracy historians could only dream to have. However, inside the Vault of Wisdom was the deepest secrets of Althanas, secrets not even a god should know. Most of this involved the information about the other Gods, including weaknesses, and other sensitive material. Bromier knew well that this knowledge had to be protected and had decreed that the Vault only be allowed to be gazed upon if a god could get three other gods permission to enter. There was only a handful of instances a god was allowed access, and it was never a good conclusion.

Still, it was not unheard of, and his opponent had recently gotten two of the three votes required. Now they had but one left to be given access to the darkest secrets the world had to answer, and with a bold challenge thrown his way he grinned in acceptance.

If he could be defeated in his own game, he had to give consent to be the third vote.

Lazarus had little care about the whims of other gods. Their plotting and scheming never interested the Father of Technology. Not that he was above such things. Far from it. He had lost his mortal coil once, and without one he could not visit the world of Althanas, so he was always planning a way to one day go back. Yet that plan would be for another day as his inner sanctum was interrupted.

Before his table was a growing fog of darkness, a feeling of dread washing over him making even the Deific Artificer squirm in his seat uncomfortably. A slender body, a body so divinely perfect that Lazarus even felt compelled to stare in a stupor took shape in the fog, a silhouette that let the imagination soar with depraved thoughts and sinister thoughts. Hair fanned out around her head as her arms lowered, the braids swiftly coming as they tied behind her in a manner that would offer her supple form no hindrance. Her naked body stepped forward, hair that was black as night covering her extremes as the fog recoiled and covered her body like a very thin gown. She smiled a sweet honey smile, her lips full and rich painted a feint black. There was just the right amount of taste to add to her appeal, not detract as some woman do with black make-up and it helped to pop her hawk-like hazel eyes. .

She lifted a red fingernail to her lips, tapping her lower lip in a manner that would drive mortal men insane and few gods over the deep end as well. With an elegant flip of her wrist a wrought iron chair appeared behind her, the red leather of the padding creaking as she sat gently and gracefully that made an Elf look like a novice dancer on their first day. Her chair looked like the entrance to a cemetery, and her eyes scanned the table where the game would be played with a soft gaze. Lazarus watched her eyes take everything in, her brain already calculating many things at once. He gazed but once into her soul, and vowed never to do so again. He waited patiently for her, a soft grin forming on his lips. His gear work chair belched steam into the air, his cushions adjusting as he readjusted himself.

“Greetings, Uncle Lazarus,” She said softly. “I do thank you for taking the time to enjoy your game with me.”

“But you are wrong,” Lazarus said with a coy smile. The Goddess gave him a glance of confusion. His wrinkled hands lifted to his hood, removing it with grace to reveal a youthful face, full of life as his bright red eyes flashed to her. He had short hair, neatly arranged to the side as his tinkering goggles rested just on his forehead, the many monocles all resting one over the other like the steps of the Fallien pyramids. He placed his hands upon his hand crafted box, patting it again as he gently pulled out a key and talked excitedly.

“I must thank you, for I have a new army I wish to try out.” The Goddess smiled to him, a heartwarming smile full of nothing but malice and dark intentions. She leaned back in her seat and gestured her hand over the board.

“I see white picket fences, a school, a local tavern and restaurant. I see homes, some hills…I think this is a Village.” Lazarus gave her a soft clap of appreciation. She smiled in thanks, her other hand lifting to her side where she left her palm open face up. From the darkness a skeletal hand reverently lowered a black box that was similar in shape to and size to Lazarus, but a bit larger. Each of the lines of the box was inlaid with pressed gold, making intricate patterns of ghostly images wailing in torment.

“This,” Lazarus said lowering his key to his box. He placed the metal in the lock, and turned the key all the way over, the sound of mechanisms and levers pulling as the side of the wood opened, letting steam vent out. The gears within the box ground against one another making a groaning metallic noise as the lid opened in stages. During this little display the Deific Artificer spoke. “Is the town of Irenes. Do you know of it?” She shook her head. “It’s a small town, not a large population. In fact, to call it a village is giving this place more credit than it deserves. Yet within this small hovel is a congregation of the mightiest warriors ever to be in one area at any time.”

The Goddess lowered the box to the table, her fingers delicately rubbing the side of the box. She pulled back a secret lever, where a small pin shot out. With the greatest of ease her finger pricked itself without any indication it bothered her and her bloody digit rose to the top of the box where she placed her finger upon a screaming skull. The box let out a wail of agony, as if the blood of the Goddess was torture in itself to behold. With a hiss the lid opened, and her fingers gently opened the case that held her army.

“So why Irenes, dear Uncle?”

“Oh, I was inspired by my past to do a little research in the library. I have a Ranger army, a Savion Army, the third Dynasty of Queen Jeri Han of Akashima, the Golden Host of King Karfa, the Blood Stained Kingdom of Carthage, the Emprean Royal Army, the Forgotten one Xem’Xund’s host, and countless others, but I never really had a chance to try out an all hero army. What is unique to my army I wanted to try was yours is going to out number several to one. But you see, each member of Irenes has a bit of history, and can more than hold their own.”

“Do you promise me this is a balanced game?” The Goddess said, though her tone was dark and threatening in manner. Lazarus was unnerved by her tone, but expected her reluctance. She was smart in using the word ‘promise’ for in the Pantheon there was a golden rule: If a god makes a promise to another god, they are bound to keep their promise. If they cannot, the god who you failed to keep your promise to gains all the offending gods power. It was a rule to keep balance in the great game of schemes and backstabbing.

“Yes, I promise you the game is balanced. I have made sure the army you requested will match mine, but as always the commanding officer will determine who reigns supreme. I even gave you the advantage in this scenario,” Lazarus admitted.

The woman before him looked to the board with a stern look, something he admired about her. She took these games as seriously as he did, for both were terrible sore losers. It also meant that she was serious about her challenge, and any opportunity to fully test his skills was met with relish. Her army should do well in a town setting, since she would be playing herself and her cult.

“I agree to the scenario. Standard mission of break the enemy?”

“Yes indeed.” Lazarus started to take out his pieces.

“Then let the match begin. The Deific Artificer Lazarus will take control of Irenes, and I shall control the Cult of Blessed Torture.”

“My army leader is Troy Priam, who do you nominate as your army leader?” There came a sadistic chuckle as the woman leaned back in her seat, eyes alight with mischief as she gave him a favored smile. Her gaze was so sweet, so innocent, and at the same time made him want to run and hide.

“Don’t be silly, Uncle Lazrus! I of course choose the Goddess of Blessed Torture, myself!” Cassandra Remi said with a grin of satisfaction.

[Requiem of Insanity]

The first few turns had little events as Lazarus moved his pieces. The strength of his army was that each character on the table was a Hero, and thus better than standard troops. Yet even a Hero could only do so much against overwhelming numbers, so to help him alleviate such a problem was the history he read on each soul of Irenes. Somehow, someway in their long lives, each member of that little town knew one another from previous adventures. Each one had a bond that could not be broken, and when they were near one another they gained bonuses. He planned to use that to the fullest as he moved his pieces.

“I decide it is time that we get these underway.” Cassandra’s hand gracefully pushed a group of models forwards. “These are Cultist Ghouls, each one a gibbering monster who has lost all sense of humanity and morality in exchange for violence. They are experts in mauling through infantry, but as I see you have none I’ll just tempt fate and test their mettle against that Grey Swordsman.”

With a snap of her fingers she pointed towards the enemy, and the models came to life. With miniaturized howls of rage fueled by agony they charged forwards. Lazarus kept his face neutral as the Grey Swordsman came to life, his face looking at them and muttering in a voice too small to be heard. Lazarus spoke up with a confident smirk.

“The piece you attack is known as Regal Burnswidth. He is the so called Demon of Swords, and a very impressive fighter, but in this time period he is not currently at his prime. So I’ll place him into his defensive fighting stance Shadows Coil. In this stance Regal can make no attacks, but he is more than capable of dodging each Ghouls clumsy strike.” To show his point the Sword Demon reversed the grip on his serrated blade, jacket whipping in the breeze as he began to dodge each strike, his body moving in a lucid fashion. “Did you know Regal once fought the Saint of Swords and nearly defeated him? The man is an insane fool, his mind forever tainted by the corruption of a demon that resides within his blade. He thinks, in his own mind, he has killed over fourteen hundred people. How absurd.” Lazarus chuckled.

“A lofty boast, for sure,” Cassandra mused loudly as she watched Lazarus move a group of people away from the Ghouls. He then advanced a man in a white coat, his hair set in a very stylish manner as he rushed forwards into combat with Regal. She did not expect much of her Ghouls in this battle, and as she expected Troy’s model came to life and with but a single strike every Ghoul fell upon the ground and Regal gave him a thumbs up before the models became inactive. “Balanced for sure, dear Uncle,” Cassandra quipped as she looked to her hand of playing cards.

“Do not be upset that I have superior fighters. Your cult has many tricks.” Cassandra lifted one card outwards, smiling as she looked to the group located near a building. Lazarus suddenly frowned in irritation. “Like that…”

“I summon a horde of rapists. With the Ambush rule I can deploy them from any building or forest area. I noticed dear Uncle that you seemed to congregate those people in the group backwards. They must be important. You also sent Troy forwards, which means Regal’s ability must not be indefinite, and you needed to protect him, or ensure the threat was handled.” Five models crawled out of the windows of the house, shouting like raving lunatics as the group Lazarus had moved came to life. There was but a single man in the group, two women with him. One was a young girl, no older than twenty five, who clutched the man in fear as the red haired woman, a lover of some kind she mused, clung to him.

“As you remember, dear Uncle, Rapists have the special ability to gain the Assassin rule when in combat with women. Assassin’s can target any model in a group with no penalties, and all damage must go to them.” Cassandra watched as the rapists descended upon the group, eyes craving for the succulent flesh of the child and the women. As their hands reached out they were all suddenly pushed back as the man intercepted each and every strike. Cassandra frowned watching her attack repulsed.

“Meet the Deltin family,” Lazarus chuckled. “The gentleman is Sheex Deltin, who has a very special ability to interrupt any attack upon any Deltin family member in the same group as him. The red head is his wife Leila, and though she’s utterly useless in combat she does have the ability to activate Sheex twice in a turn as opposed to the normal one time. The last of the group is Nami Deltin, who has no combat skills, and cannot attack. However, the bonus she gives are through the roof. First off, any Deltin family member in range receives one less wound a turn. Secondly, if in a group with her father, he auto heals one wound and activation. Also, should she be threatened, well…look at Regal for me.”

Cassandra did so, watching the Grey Swordsman activate and rush towards the combat, his blade lifting upwards as energy rose around him like fire. It peaked at the tip of his sword creating a swirling mass of energy. With a bellow of pure hate the blade crashed down, a wave of energy rushing forwards and hitting the rapists killing them all, a demon’s chuckle echoing in the sky as he ranted about protecting something. “I see, he has the ability to rush to her aid if she’s in a certain distance.”

“Well what Husband wouldn’t take care of his wife?” Lazarus countered.

“Wife?” Cassandra blurted in surprise. “The man is like…forty something! Maybe even fifty!” Lazarus shrugged.

“It is an estranged marriage, for sure, but they do love each other in their own way. Regal is fanatically devoted to her, and when her life is threatened he reverts back to his old combat prime to protect her. For my activation I will use another special ability. I bring Rebecca Raven to Troy Priam’s side. She cannot perform any other action, but it’s a fair price considering the distance she traveled.”

Cassandra watched as a model materialized on the table next to Troy, a woman of mythic beauty. Her long brown hair flowed behind her like a defiant warrior, but her curves were in all the right places and she had the softest blue eyes. Her sword was lifted at the ready, and Cassandra figured being near Troy meant her and Troy both got bonuses. She had no counter set up, but the other side of the field was rather scarce of models. She pushed several cultists forwards and activated her own model of herself, the piece covered with blood before she stepped out and advanced forwards.

“Hmm, that piece looks familiar,” Cassandra muttered as she tapped her finger on her lower lip again in thought, remembering a few other games and the models used. This one looked exactly like Paul Donovan, a Hero of Emprea. She recalled him being a brute in combat and especially good at tackling large bodies of infantry single handedly. She nodded her head, assessing her targets and with a flick of the models wrist her avatar on the field released a sharp blade upwards that sent an earth rending wave of red energy forwards. The Hero lifted a giant axe up to block the blow, but her attack cut through and cleaved into him. With a thud the model collapsed, and slowly melted into the board.

“I never want to hear you complain about balance again,” Lazarus growled.”You killed the Husband of Viola Conda, Ex-Chief Counselor of Emprea. Because of that her stats are permanently reduced.” Cassandra nodded with satisfaction. So with each built-in strength, than obviously there were built in flaws. Certain deaths meant other pieces would deactivate or become useless. She looked for her next prey. “I retreat models back towards the Deltin’s.”

The pieces all came alive as one as they ran towards the rally point, save Viola. Her movement seemed to be slowed as her model kept looking to the spot where her husband died. Seeing a perfect opportunity to try and shove a wedge in Lazarus’ army, she activated another playing card.

“Divine Intervention. I use a point of my Faith pool to gain another action. I activate Aerith Remi and lead her group of hunters forwards. I assault Troy and Rebecca with them. Then I play this card,” Cassandra smiled as she lowered a card covered in blood. “Blood banquet allows me to activate any number of units on my side for each wound on this combat.”Lazarus gave her a soft smile as he lifted up his own hand of cards and played one face down.

“Aerith has the Assassin rule, so I target Rebecca. Unless Troy wishes to intercept.”

“Troy can take any ranged damage for her, but if she’s targeted in close combat he cannot.” Cassandra allowed a small smile to cover her lips. “Do take heed you cannot kill Rebecca this turn.”

“I know that, I need to bring her close to death though. Which, naturally, Aerith being a serial killer like her dear mother before her, easily is capable of doing.” Lazarus again nodded his head. He then stroked his beard with a bemused smile.

“Do you know the story of the Saint of Swords?” Lazarus said with a bit of spite coming from his lips. Cassandra looked to him with half expectant eyes. It was hard for anyone in the Pantheon not to know of him. Lazarus had lost his mortal aspect to that man; Karel Raven. He had cursed the man with a blade and manipulated his life so that he ended up killing his family, his home, and even a small helpless child. He loathed Karel with his entire being, but admits that of Lazarus’ twisted schemes, the end result of the tragedy of the Saint of Swords was never to be seen again.

“I bring this up, because that woman is married to the Saint of Swords. I activate my card, You Promised. Rebecca can only play this when her HP is dangerously low, but the benefits far outweigh the cost.” Cassandra watched as the field suddenly lit up with golden radiance, and from the heavens thousands upon thousands of swords descended upon her unengaged units. Each golden blade cut down her precious cultists as from the heavens itself a solitary man in a blue fighter’s coat stepped upon the clouds back to the mortal realm. He slammed blade after blade into Cassandra, but the Goddess model sneered in contempt, lifting her heads creating a barrier of blood that melted away the harmful magic. When Karel touched boot to floor he stood before her.

“I do know much about him,” Cassandra said as she watched him go into personal combat with her avatar. Needless to say, even being a god did not equal skill with a blade and she was heavily outclassed as the Saint of Swords rained blows upon her. It was only by her divinity she still stood tall and fought back. “You see, I am the Goddess of Blessed Torture, and I hear all prayers of malicious intent. Many a soul has prayed for Karel’s death, and not a swift one either. Hundreds had wished for the most violent, painful of deaths. Several flocked to my banner because of he. I had to eventually head to the library and learn more about his story.”

Cassandra lifted her hand out and her avatar did likewise, before a dark cloud formed around the fight. “Karel Raven was not a good man,” Cassandra teased. “And with him comes a terrible price. He is easily susceptible to my terror tactics.” Lazarus lifted an eyebrow watching the game unfold as he moved a solitary piece towards Cassandra. She looked to it, and saw no threat as other pieces moved around the board to support one another. Because of the scale of the assault, Lazarus’ forces had to spend turns making sure everyone was in range. This gave her the edge in aggression and soon she began to close her noose. A few more dead Heroes, and his army would break.

“No, Karel raven was not,” Lazarus admitted. He watched as the Karel model that had just appeared suddenly vanished, a wail of sorrow escaping his lips. Cassandra’s avatar stepped forwards and approached the loan warrior who got isolated from the rest of the army. She noticed that lazarus never really seemed to use the model, and figured it was weak.

“This one is all alone, he’ll be easy pickings. I can see his stats are not very good at all. If anything he’s as good as a basic warrior…though I see he has increased Will. Breaking him will seriously cripple your army.” She nodded to her own model, and with a vile chuckle the model made way to attack. Lazarus grinned as he looked to her. “Well, who is this one? You told me all the others.”

“You do not know? I would have thought you knew…” Lazarus swore as he smiled to himself. “If you do not know him, then I am afraid I will not tell you. You’ll just have to guess for yourself. But uh…Cassandra. You may wish to look back at the game.” She did so with a snap of her neck, watching as her avatar model crumbled into dozens of pieces. Her eyes went wide as her face contorted in confusion and anger, fists clenching.

“What? How! How did that insignificant insect do anything to me! He sat around all game doing nothing, and it’s clear his stats are worthless! Why, why suddenly did I just…NO! Lazarus you cheated!” Cassandra stood up bashing both her fists on the table, models scattering everywhere as she bellowed to her opponent. Lazarus kept his grin wide, leaning back with a soft sigh.

“Well, I cannot activate that model when Karel is an active element in the army. He really isn’t much a fighter either, but he had only one moment in the game where he proved invaluable. Mind you Cassandra, this move was a huge risk, but as you can see, with the death of their precious Goddess, the Cult has fled. I have won the game.”

Cassandra took in several deep breaths, her chest heaving with wrath as her teeth ground against one another. Her eyes fell on the model, and saw that Lazarus was right. For only one moment in the game, his Will skyrocketed, and in her frustrations and arrogance did not see what was the result of it. She had ignored that piece all game because Lazarus never seemed to show any indication that he cared about it. When she moved hunters to threaten it, he simply ignored it. It seemed it served no purpose but to take up space, and now she lost the game.

“As per the stipulation, I will not give you permission to access the restricted section. Instead you must offer me one your cults to retrieve one my lost relics!” Cassandra swiped her hand across the table, her eyes bulging with hysterics as she screamed in frustration. This was how it usually was with her. She was poise and elegant at one point, but should the smallest thing go wrong she crumbled to the spoiled brat she always was. Cassandra lifted herself up and glared to Lazarus.

“How long in this stupid time bubble did we waist?”

“The game took three hours, so about two or three days.” Another frustrated sigh of Cassandra left her lips as she turned to leave, kicking her chair back as the darkness flooded around her. “Your promise to me?” Cassandra seemed to growl the words out as she pulled at her hair, before with another sigh she regained her composure and turned to leave. The Deific Artificer allowed himself a satisfactory smile as he watched her go, hands still clenched as she disappeared into the darkness

“I shall have it done within a day. I promise Uncle Lazarus.” And with her promise made, she left the lair of Lazarus, promising herself never to let him make a fool of her again.

[Requiem of Insanity]

Time was meaningless to a god. It passed slowly, painfully slowly. It ate away at the soul until it left behind only a fragment of the sanity it once held. The worst part of it all was the march of the people below. The lives of humans that never looked up to ask the gods for help.

Humanity once thought that to be a god was to become all powerful, become something great that could do anything. The truth was so ugly compared to the innocent notion. A god’s power wasn’t limitless unless the faithful believed it to be so. It was very restricted, small acts of faith to a human cost so much for a god to perform. Thus humanity lost its faith in the gods.

Nowadays, to be a god was the most brutal torture anyone could endure.

Sitting lazily upon a cushioned satin pillow was Cassandra Remi, goddess of Blessed Torture. She lay in front of a large glass that looked down upon the human world from a distance. This window was known within the Pantheon as The Eye of God. It was the only window to look down upon the human world when a god lost their physical manifestation. Some would think that a god could see all, hear all, and be above all. The truth was that without a physical presence within the world, they could only gaze from the heavens with foggy glasses, never being able to see or hear or learn of what the world was doing.

“Three days!” Cassandra spat in disbelief as she huffed out a pouty sigh. “Three days all gone to waste because of one stupid piece! Lazarus and his idiotic game!” She rolled her eyes and let out a cleansing breath, deciding not to dwell on what she could not change. Instead she thought back to her plans and gave herself a nod of satisfaction. “It was a good thing I sent my plans into motion before I entered into that time null zone.” She mumbled mostly to herself, for very few of the God tolerated her company as she sighed, looking down upon her personal sanctum. “Three days could have ruined a lot of events.”

The goddess was bored again. She purred softly to herself as she watched the clouds pass by, tracing her finger along the glass making a soft shape of a bunny in the clouds over the Combe Mountains. She softly traced the outline of a sword in another cloud as it glided effortlessly into the bunny cloud. She smiled as she watched the two meet, the sword decapitating the cloud. With little else to do, she mused back upon her past, reflecting as she normally did when left alone to her thoughts.

Cassandra had become a god long ago, back when the world was still young. She had learned the ancient rites from a tablet she took from one of her choice kills back in her prime. Her lover and she decided to become gods, to make the world listen to her twisted song; the Requiem of Insanity. Seven years it took for her to get ready to ascend, and when she finally did her world was changed forever.

The ritual split her spirit in two forcing away her dark ambitions, her twisted lover. She was to live as a god without him, to no longer be able to hear his voice or feel his gentle touch. This was the ultimate form of agony she could ever experience. To not be with her lover awoken her dormant powers, fueling that which she would become. With the powers of her ritual she ascended to become the goddess of Blessed Torture. She cared not though, for she couldn’t be with her lover anymore. Godhood for Cassandra was irony. One sick joke she woke up to everyday for eternity.

She had managed to keep a physical aspect in the world, and soon she began to cultivate her cult to find a way to reunite her with her dark companion. She was close, so very close to being with him again when Selios, god of balance, tossed the Pantheon into the dark age destroying all her work and resetting the power in the house of the gods. This created a sundering of sorts. The lesser gods began to unite and go against the older gods, challenging them for the right to be part of the larger picture. Chodan, god of Savion, was one such god that was swept aside and forever lost in this sundering, destroyed by multiple lesser gods.

Cassandra had fended for herself, fighting off many gods who tried to kill her for power. Without the help of N’Jal she surely would have died. In return she killed the lesser gods trying to stop the spider queen, and her power grew again. Eventually the wars ended and the Pantheon was back to a neutral state. The lesser gods and the older gods had restored themselves back to a working order and life changed to one boring day after another.

Selios was to blame. He didn’t even stick around to see the destruction he caused.

Cassandra had never lost hope, however. She believed that one day she could make the world hear her song and be with her love again. It took a long time, but eventually she regained enough power to leave the Pantheon with a new physical manifestation. Once again she was about to reunite with her dark ambitions, but this time it was a combined effort of a group of immortals that killed her.

She really began to hate the Dahlios family. Serenity Dahlios, Seth’s daughter, had managed to kill her back when she was still a mortal. Without the love of her dark ambitions to retrieve her from the void she wouldn’t even be a mutter in some textbook. Seth himself had managed to pull the plug by restoring all the balance in the world of the gods, thus stopping her from reuniting with her love. Sarah Dahlios had even managed to kill her physical aspect, with the help of an abomination created by a botched ritual, a golem, and an immortal.

Now her days were spent lazily sitting upon her pillow, looking down upon the world as gods came and went. Marduk ranted and raved to her about the promise she made to free him into the real world when she went back. N’Jal would visit her once so often, to remind her that she hated Cassandra for tricking her when the goddess granted N’Jal four of her most powerful cults only to have them cut down by Atari Taka, herald of Enma-O. Lazarus had visited her every now and then, the only God in the Pantheon she could stomach being around. He had always asked Cassandra to play his demented game with him, because Cassandra was one of the only few who knew the rules. She didn’t have much else to do anyway.

This was her life. Boring, repetitive, dull…she hated this torment. She hated this life. She was meant for grander things. Yet every time she tried to make a play for power Selios would go cry to the immortals on the earth and they would be there to stop her. This was soon globally seen within the Pantheon and it was becoming fast a problem. No god could single handedly regain a physical manifestation anymore. Selios would know immediately. Thus the great game of trade was created.

Shortly Cassandra began to see the way the Pantheon shifted and moved. She began to learn about the gods, how they rose, how they fell. Soon her brain began to formulate a plan on how to be with her lover again, but she was a missing a crucial component to her plan. In order for her to succeed she needed to get within the deific library and access the restricted section. Cassandra had spent her last thousand years trying to get inside and she was so close now that she could taste it.

Cassandra had tricked N’Jal into giving her access, her second nomination was from Marduk, who gave her access on the condition she did everything within her power to bring him back into the real world. Now she was left with one last god to gather, and none of them were willing to give it up.

And now Lazarus had fallen through! She cursed herself as she knew he was one of the last final options she truly had available, and to make sure she ran through her checklist one more time. She appealed to Enma-O, who laughed in her face. To Tiamet, who cursed her out. To Mordechi, who asked her to give him more than she was willing to. She even contemplated dealing with the Lesser gods but none of them had any concept of a fair trade. Frustrated and running low on time she realized she wasn’t going to convince the other gods and moved her perch to the Eye of God. There she lazily sat, a book titled Temen Ni Gru resting next to her stomach as she looked down upon the world.

Silently a creature entered her sanctum, his eyes cast upon her with no ill will nor excitement. Just a passive neutral etched his angelic features as he looked upon her with a soft sigh. Cassandra turned her head a fraction of an inch and looked at the angel that stood before her. He was tall for an angel, as most were deceptively small, and he had a set of brilliant golden wings. He had on a set of white robes, tightly bound around his frame with a small sword tucked away as if it was a shame to even have it. She had never seen his sword drawn, and as far as any god knew, he never once drew the blade. Not like it would do anybody any good. Angels were the lowest base in the order of the pantheon. Only demonic minions ranked lower.

She looked into his eyes, peering past his own personal pains to see a soft contentment in his soul as he peered back to her, seeing her desire to be with the one she longed for. They stood off like this for a long time before she casually sighed and drew her gaze back to the Eye of God.

“What do you want, Angel?” Cassandra said in a bored fashion. “Come to give me another pep talk about how I should do this or do that?” He remained quiet as he peered at her, the subtle rise in his chest hiding the fact he sighed before he relaxed himself against a stone pillar that stretched upwards towards infinity.

“I am not, Goddess.” he said plainly. The two had never once in their entire lives addressed the other by their names. Cassandra knew the man as Angel, and the man knew her as Goddess. “I just simply came to make the same plea I do each time I visit you.” Cassandra rolled her eyes before turning to face him, leaning seductively on her side as she ran a thin finger down the spine of her book.

“That again, Angel? I told you already that you need to stop this. I will not talk to my daughter. So just give it up, already.” Cassandra said smiling. “I’m sure you have other children to attend to.” The angel stood back up from her perch and turned to walk away.

“I do, being the Patron Angel of Orphans is a never ending task,” he said neutrally. Cassandra lowered herself off her side back onto her stomach looking to him.

“Why do you waste your faith like this? Being you, Angel, I already know you have a very, very limited supply. Why waste it on those street urchins?” Cassandra mused. The angel shook his head.

“Goddess, you will never understand. I would gladly give up all of my faith if it meant that there were no more orphans.” He bowed respectfully to her, a slight head nod in her direction before he turned to leave. Cassandra watched him for a moment than with a cruel smile she shot up calling to him. He stopped but didn’t turn to look at her.

“Angel,” She said forcefully. “How many orphans have I created alone?” Cassandra said grinning from ear to ear. The man turned looking to her, his face calm despite her efforts to get a rise out of him.

“You, or your cult?” Cassandra tapped a finger under her chin.

“Just me.” she smiled. He looked up as if in thought before he looked back.

“Around two hundred or so.” Cassandra pointed to him.

“You must hate me, don’t you, Angel?”

“No,” he said softly to her, his face hiding his emotions well which irritated Cassandra. “If anything Goddess, I only pity you.” he said turning and walking away. Cassandra watched him go, her breaths ragged as she seethed in silent frustration. One day she would torture him and make him scream for her. That was a promise.

“Well what a show.” Marduk hissed from his cage far behind her. “The angel shows up, offers you to make nice, and then in spite of all your attempts you are the one who gets the finger! HA! And to top it all off, three hundred years for a waste of time with Lazarus and you’re no closer to what you want. Better hope you don’t screw me in your journey of failure.”

Cassandra yawned as she rolled onto her back looking up at the crystal ceiling. “You never stated when I had to bring you back.” she chided. She watched the soft shimmering glow of the crystals on the ceiling. “You’re more vocal than usual.” She said casually picking up Temen Ni Gru and flipping to one of her favorite parts in the book.

“Well it’s not every day I get to see that clown Selios.” Marduk leaned against the wall, making the chains that bound his power scrap against the floor. “Be warned, he’s on to you.” Cassandra lowered her book a fraction of an inch.

“Selios is back?” She lowered her eyebrows in curiosity.

“Yeah.” Marduk replied. “You arrived about a half hour after he came through.” Cassandra thought about this development with curiosity. She shut her book and got up walking away with a malicious grin on her face.

[Requiem of Insanity]

Cassandra read her book in the library, watching Selios move around from table to table making cruel remarks to some, and a few words of polite chatter with others. While the majority of the Pantheon hated him, there were a few of the weaker gods who gained from his power play. She observed him as he walked up and down the halls, making pacts with other gods to get access to the restricted section. He had apparently forgot that little tidbit of godly information.

Selios’ position chaffed at most of the other gods for he was not really all that powerful when compared to the other deities. Currently the three strongest gods were Lazarus, N’Jal, and Cassandra, their faith stores far higher than the other gods. Selios was in all actuality considered weak, no stronger than any other god save Marduk. Yet as weak as he was he was the only god with a physical manifestation within the world. He was also one of the few gods who were lucky to have a herald. Selios had it all as far as the other gods went. Faith he never had to work for, a herald, and the ability to leave the Pantheon whenever he chose.

This was fast becoming his downfall, however, as he grew frustrated when Mordechi laughed at him in the face when he asked his brother for his consent to enter the restricted section of the library. In return Selios sucker punched the traitor god, and turned storming away. Cassandra smiled to herself as she kept watching behind her book. The God of Balance went to Lazarus, spoke a few words, and Lazarus began to chuckle, but unlike Mordechi, Lazarus gave out terms to his consent.

Cassandra was impressed with Selios. He agreed to forever stay out of Lazarus’ business, and never leave clues or hints for the other immortals on earth. Selios just had to watch Lazarus, and that was it. Cassandra also knew Selios carefully did not mention his Herald was excluded in this deal, as she shared the same visions Selios did.

He then spent an hour trying to get other gods to agree, yet it was Enma-O who approached Selios instead. The Akashiman God of Death offered Selios access to the restricted section on the terms that Selios made it so that her Herald, Benjiro Taka, could regain his lost honor on Jared Cesarino of Lavinya. Selios grinned to that, and agreed with a wolfish smile.

This was when the rest of the Pantheon banned together. When a god was just one vote away from entering a place full of knowledge on the gods including their weaknesses and so forth they all made a policy to rarely deal with that god. Cassandra had known her time to play her part was now.

“Hello,” she said politely to Selios as he walked by her. The deity stopped, looking to her with a snarl of contempt. It was not the first time the two met on this sacred ground, but that was not the point. No, their enmity started when Cassandra as a mortal came back from death and killed his precious bastard child.

“Filth,” he muttered as his dirty boots trailed on his way past her

“Ouch. My Pride, now that we finished those introductions,” she replied in a dry manner. Selios rolled his eyes and continued on. Cassandra followed after him. “You won’t be getting the third vote you know. The Pantheon has rarely allowed a god to enter the restricted section. Me included. When a god has two votes we all ban together to veto the third.” Selios stopped in his tracks, not looking to her but leaning his head ever so softly in her direction, his duster jacket fanning to the side as he gave her a half look.

“So how the hell do you jackasses get anything done?”

“You of all people should know that answer,” Cassandra responded with a slight giggle, looking to her nails for dirt. As the Pantheon was eternally clean, there was none. Selios shook his head.

“Right,” he chided. “Nothing ever gets done. This is the exact shit that keeps mankind from believing in you ass hats.” Cassandra could only shrug in response. He was right after all. She walked after him, keeping a healthy distance away from his twin daggers he carried. She had been cut once by them, and it was not pleasant. When the man turned a corner she carried on the conversation as if there was no tension between the two.

“You happen to be in a unique position, Selios. A position of power you don’t currently have.” Cassandra stood up and leaned against a golden pillar as he stopped and looked to her under his beaten hat. Selios thought in his head about what she was doing, and then with a groan he turned to look at her with both hate filled eyes.

“I assume this means we need to trade for something,” Selios said cautiously, his stance full of aggression. It amused her at how tense the god was just to be around her. It was good to know things didn’t change. Still, he had opened the bargaining game first, which meant he was willing to listen.

“I would think this trade is a very simple one. We both can spare it.” She smiled her teeth brightly to him. “I just so happen to need a third god’s consent. So why don’t we approve each other?” Selios looked to her, his eyes widening in shock. He fluttered his lips making an exasperating sound turning to head away again.

“Pssh, yeah right. If you want in there that can’t be a good thing.” Selios folded his arms across his chest as he moved on without her. Annoyed she sighed chasing after him again as they moved through the Pantheon. He spoke back to her, his voice gruff as if speaking from this throat. “Tell me why you are going into the library and maybe I’ll let you in with me.”

“My business is my own,” Cassandra replied. “But how about I tell you what I won’t be doing?”

“Nope.”

“Then you won’t learn what it is you came to learn. I will come back into the world and be reborn and you get the knowledge of knowing you could have prevented it. To let you in is just as dangerous to me as it is to you. I can survive without going into the restricted section. I can learn my information in the real world just as easily. For me this is only a convenience.”

Selios smiled to her, reading her bluff and gauging it, but the man was a practical God. He knew there was little point for Cassandra to start lying now as it was made clear she would soon be reborn. This was the whole purpose he came to this place after all, since his group of mortal friends, the Progenies Immortalis, had sent him here. He was squirming underneath his tough demeanor and she knew it. Cassandra held the key to get inside and he knew he was fast running out of time. Not only did he have to get inside that restricted section, but he also had to read over the entire life of Cassandra to find her sites of resurrection. She held him in a powerful position indeed.

“Give me the name of the Saint of Killers and let me into the restricted section, and I will let you into the restricted section as well.” Cassandra thought about his request. It was a rather odd one and something she had no clue how to answer, but then again... Her eyes narrowed in confusion for half a second, then without preamble she rushed over grabbing his hand and shook it vigorously.

“Deal!” She shouted. Grabbing his hand in her haste she turned towards the library and led him over to the restricted section, drawing the eyes of many curious gods as she knocked over Lazarus’ game with Mordechi to get by faster within the main gathering court.

“BITCH!” Mordechi shouted. “I was just about to win!”

“Hardly, I had Prince Lucifer inside your courtyard. It was checkmate in two moves. Play again though?” Mordechi grumbled his response as they used their godly powers to let the game set fix itself into a new game. “Same match?” Lazarus asked. Mordechi nodded. When he saw his army his eyebrows narrowed.

“Hey how come I’m always Emprea and you always get to play Carthage?” Mordechi asked.

Selios ripped his hand away finally as they approached the library. Cassandra’s face was alight with excitement. Cassandra was about to move in when Selios grabbed her by the collar. With a violent tug he pulled her back and gave her a dark scowl.

“The name?” He asked forcefully.

“Oh, right. The Saint of Killers you said?” She tapped a finger under her chin before she grinned vilely. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” Selios replied quickly.

“I don’t lie, Selios. Or surely you would feel your power growing. I may have people who do disgusting deeds in my name, but do I give them silly titles? No I do not.” She laughed. “That silly name, Saint of Killers, is some man-made piece of garbage, like Saint of Swords or Eternal Wanderer.” she continued to laugh as she turned into the restricted section.

Selios cursed loudly as he followed her in, swearing up and down how he’ll enjoy watching her physical manifestation die all over again.

[Requiem of Insanity]

The realm of the gods was vast, but nothing put perspective within Cassandra's eyes like the sight of the Library. Towers that would rival that of mortal men rose into the infinite beyond, books lined up like swarming insects. It was mighty indeed, for every mortals history was in these halls. Many of the gods would read about a particular person, learning all they needed in order to set the stage for another manipulative pawn in their grand schemes. High above the Goddess of Blessed Torture was the spider queen N'Jal, her many eyes looking down upon Cassandra as she scuttled from side to side to turn and watch her. Jomil, another of the Thayne sisters, sat upon a table looking at a book titled the Revenant, a mischievous smile as she thumbed the page. She paid none of them any mind as she headed towards her goal.

She moved quickly towards her destination, pushing aside the lesser gods in her way as she grinned devilishly to herself. The Vault of Wisdom was located near the rear of the library, and it was a twenty minute walk just to get there from the main entrance. It was in a secluded area where the Sentinel, guardian of the Vault kept watch. No god, no matter how much faith they had, was capable of opening the Vault alone. Yet now that she stood shoulder to shoulder with Selios, God of Balance, the time for what she searched for was now coming to a head. Her lips wetted in anticipation, fingers wiggling as she watched the warden maneuver itself slowly towards the doorway. With reverence and ancient rights spoken from chapped, aged lips, the warden spoke. Cassandra felt the energies within the man’s staff like an extension of power, and with a bright light from the tip of the prism the spell took effect.

Cassandra had watched the events that unfolded in the past five hundred years, seeing her own self like a play before her mind. The dark one N'Jal stood before Cassandra, her position high and mighty, hand extended outwards as Cassandra shook it. She watched herself turn, only the vile smile showing through as suddenly N'Jal's face exploded in rage as she screamed loudly. A flash went by and Cassandra was before Marduk, Tiamet's jailor, bound by his ball and chains. He listened to the words, and spoke in guttural tribal speak, his intentions clear. Cassandra nodded to him and sealed her pact. Should he give her access to the Vault, she would in turn give him freedom to the real world. The final image showed Selios and Cassandra, both standing off against the other with dark intentions meant for each. They glared at one another, before quickly Cassandra shook his hand.

The light faded and the goddess returned back to the pantheon, watching as Selios made his way forwards into the vault. Cassandra waited a moment, watching him waltz right down the list of the gods and finding the history of Cassandra Remi, pulling ancient, dust covered tomes off the bookshelves and carrying them to a desk where he sat, removing a duster jacket and cap with a gruff noise of exertion. Cassandra moved swiftly forwards, turning towards the forbidden lore, her heart racing. There was an old rickety gate, and with ease she pushed it open, feeling a cold wind push upon her. She merely cooed at the attempts of the God of Knowledge to keep her out. She moved from decaying bookshelf to rotting bookshelf. She never stayed still for longer than second, frustration birthing as she searched long and hard for her book she had spent so long to read. It was in here, she knew it. Borohmier was no liar, and he himself confirmed that such a book did exist within his vast collection.

Spells of necromancy, books of torments, and tomes of vile deeds; all of them held no interest to the Goddess of Blessed Torture as she angrily shoved them aside. She unfurled several scrolls and read the ancient texts, eyes rolling as she tossed them aside. She looked upon the back wall, finding the ancient ledgers of Xem'Xund the Dark Lord, the Tome of Ancients, wicked spell book of Frenzy Ortega, greatest Avatar of Famine. There was a statue that broke the lines, a blind lion holding a scale with two hour glasses. One flowed correctly as physics would dictate, the other flowed backwards, the grains lifting upwards. When they both emptied, they rotated, tipping the scales as the lion mouth opened until the scales rebalanced.

Cassandra looked to this statue with curiosity, before shaking her head and moving on. She thumbed the lines of Savions black history, pushed aside the Dynasty of Daigotsu the Blood Reaper. She tossed the book of the Thayne Tantalus into a stack of other books angrily thinking back to that idiot Duffy Bracken, and with a screech of irritation she shoved the book of the Storm Herald back into the wall, falling to her side as she slid down the bookshelf. An entire section filled with the location of the Seven Seals that kept the world from ending. The activation rights to Armageddon, the balancing spell that would bring the Apocalypse to bare. None of these things were what she needed! Annoyed she ripped the books next to her off the wall.

Patience was never her virtue and she never pretended it was. Knowing full well she was acting childish she chided herself, taking a deep breath as she stood again. She looked to the hourglass again, watching the grains fall and remembering she had only a few short days before her Cult upon the real world would finish the Ritual to bring her back to the real world. Most of the gods could feel her faith power growing, and only a few managed to have more power than she. It was a shift within the Pantheon they could all feel, and Cassandra liked watching the other members of her personal hell squirm from her position. She sighed looking to the sand and thinking that her ultimate plan would take hundreds of years to work unless she could find what she needed within these walls.

Her head cocked to the side in confusion as she watched the scales tip, rotate, and the mouth of the lion opened. The grains fell again, and the process began over. Cassandra stepped forwards and observed the statue more closely. The God of Time was a vain man, who took Pride that he controlled an aspect of the cosmos themselves. The hourglasses rotated again, and Cassandra looked to the lion more closely. Its mouth opened the fangs sharp as an assassin’s blade. Even with her power as a god, those golden teeth would cleanly cut her hand off if she left it in there when they closed again. The tongue was neatly placed in the lower jaw, a line marking the edge. Cassandra waited, looking with a knowing smile as she watched the scales tip again. This time her hand went into the lion’s mouth, lifting up the large golden tongue. Her other hand reached in and felt hardbound leather as old as time itself. She retracted both hands, giggling as the mouth shut and the process continued.

When her time came she moved with haste, her feet standing on the statue itself. Her body glowed a soft blue as she called upon her reservoir of Faith, enhancing her speed quickly enough so she could retrieve the tome in one go. With the book out she smiled to herself, patting the lion on the snout before opening the pages. There was power within the book, that she could tell, and though the volume was huge and heavy, there was only but a single page. It was a map of the entire world, sundials moving with the passage of time. Cassandra waved her hand and noticed nothing happened. Smirking, she found an hour glass and rotated it backwards just once. All the sundials reversed time, and Cassandra noticed the formation of the clouds change. Cranking it way back Cassandra watched the tectonics of the earth shift around. She watched the explosion over Knife's Edge from the battle with Xem'Xund, the creation of Corone itself, the moving of boats that first set sail in unknown waters.

She giggled as she played with time, watching creation in motion as she played with the hourglass. Sating her curiosity she moved her hands to reset time, spinning the hourglass forwards until it could no longer turn. She watched the map with a curious eye, and touched a runic symbol of magic. She rewound the time slowly, watching the ebb and flow of the magical tap as well as distant winds of magic that blew in the sky. She rotated the time back to Xem'Xund, watching the spikes of magic around Knife's Edge and nodded. She looked to the other runes and reset time back to a year before the destruction of Knife's Edge. Slowly, she let time begin to catch up, observing the Magic of Time and Stasis Locks, slowly rotating time to the present. There were strips, a few blips that caught her eye, but most blinked in and out of existence. She kept her eye over every location, and soon she began to see patterns in the ebb and flow of magic.

Seven hours Cassandra did this, her eyes never leaving the book. She made sure to watch every nuance of time, and with a tired, but satisfactory smile she at long last let time reach the present. Her fingers ached as did her back and knees, but she felt a boiling dark chuckle escape her lips.

She placed the book down, locating the last surviving Time Loop on Althanas.