Jackal Among Snakes

“Now that I know what comes, all of this looks so small,” Onychinusa marveled, one of the emissaries of her Lord at her side as she witnessed the march of the elven gods. They stood above the canopies of the redwoods, removed from the conflict yet central to it all.

“Everything can look small from the right perspective,” the emissary answered back.

What occurred down below certainly did not fulfill the definition of ‘small.’ Kirel Qircassia’s breach stood strong. It was a gash in reality itself and existed as a portal to another realm. Rather than a portal made naturally, this was a tear. It connected the two realms in such a way that one could see nothing if they looked at it from behind, but from the front, an entirely separate realm expanded infinitely onwards. Though Kirel already bent this place to his whims, in time the Bloodwoods would be entirely supplanted by his realm.

If Kirel had his way, the two realms would blend, homogenizing until the mortal world and the divine world were one in the same. It would stay in this state during the cycle of judgment wrought by Gerechtigkeit. And when—no, if—the arbiter was defeated, both would separate once again, becoming two diverging paths subject to different forces. The divine realm would heed the divinity, while the mortal realm would once again heed the mortal forces of nature permeating this land. And thus, existence spun millennium after millennium.

Seeing it in this fashion, the great force of elven gods and mortals rushing to plug up this breach seemed small. Thousands of Kirel’s servants battled against a foe they were not equipped to handle in a desperate but loyal attempt to salvage their invasion. Even Onychinusa could see no way to end any of those elven gods with all of the power at her disposal.

The gap between worshipped and worshipper was far too large to bridge. And there were yet more gaps beyond those, of a magnitude Onychinusa could barely even begin to conceive…

Yet still her eyes wandered to the human mage known as King of Vasquer, struggling with his allies with all the same ferocity as the rest. Looking at him, he had reason to be proud of his strength. His spells claimed countless lives in this war, and so he had reason to think his actions mattered. He had certainly toiled to embrace as much power as he could. But with all she knew, he seemed the smallest of them all.

Still, her eyes wandered to the emissary. “You can move beyond the Lord’s shrines, now. Why must we mind things so small? Argrave rejected the Lord once before. Let him die,” she suggested after her question.

The emissary did not respond immediately, but she knew it would. They had been indulgent to her requests these days, in harsh contrast to the coldness they displayed not a week earlier. Even though the back of her mind sometimes whispered this was manipulation, she still wished to be indulged to a point she did not mind if it was precisely that.

to seize those fighting on the ground. “The Lord believes it is the latter.

run down her spine. “And

to determine the quality of clay is to get it wet, and attempt to mold it. If it keeps its shape when worked, then it is good clay. And

She swallowed and said desperately, “I’ll do my part in the battle. I’ll

of things, that part will commence soon. They grow ever closer to the breach… and Argrave

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mind to its limit to control the numerous whips surging out from his blood echoes. Though they grew ever closer to the breach, the resistance they faced increased in turn. He burned through much of the power he’d accrued in the elven realms,

another as though it was as easy as walking, using ice and lightning to fell any that would dare come near. Orion warded away all the creatures that avoided her power, and what few he missed were in turn dealt with by the honor guard of Veidimen. Argrave felt

the fabric of reality, one could only see the mortal world. Looking straight at it, an entirely new realm opened up before the viewer—Kirel Qircassia’s realm. The breach was impossible geometry manifest. The area behind the breach seemed larger than the hole itself. And being a portal between

of what Argrave saw of Kirel’s realm was land and sky. The land was black, burned, and lifeless, its uniformity disturbed only by his servants. Some of that lifelessness already seeped into the ground by the rift, transforming it. The sky was a blinding white, exuding light constantly. Land and sky existed as two parallels, almost like yin and

Supersession, or when they had visited him in that shrine of his. But this pressure was not Erlebnis’. It was simply the weight of being behind an ancient god, the immutable existence that consumed the mind. It made his steps feel heavy… and seeing how all others

pressure… Kirel Qircassia exerted his will. Black hands grabbed the breach from the bottom, straining as they pulled. Opposite them, hands of whiteness worked just as fiercely. Any new servants entering

step forward. His brain felt crushed, and his limbs felt like jelly. He could move them fine, and was forced to in combatting the waves of

the hands wrenching the breach open fell away, one after the other. Argrave felt some of that

not. Ghan’s lightning sparked out from his body like a living shield, while Merata called the vastness of life in the Bloodwoods. Both of them engaged this tide of divine will as the other gods circled around them. Lightning and life began to

thought that his fears were right, and he was wholly insufficient for a challenge of this magnitude. With Ghan and