Prologue
Long before the Great War and the cataclysm that saw the world of the gods destroyed. Before corruption gnawed away at the Divine Empire and sparked the rebellion.
Long before all of it, he stood on the plains of Eurelle, awaiting the Oracle. The wind tore at his black cloak. He pulled it closer, shielding his face from the dust of this scorching desert, and trudged forward.
The City of the Dead sat before him. Piles of black stone lay atop each other, moving, grinding.
Once thousands had lined up to speak to the Oracle here, to ask it how they should achieve their goals, or whether their lover was faithful, or other pointless things. No one set foot in this place anymore, except him. He did not have a pointless question to ask the Oracle. He had a nightmare that kept him from sleeping.
Ever since he had come back from the Northern War, it had lingered in his mind. A question that he needed to answer.
The Oracle was the only one who could answer it, for the Oracle knew where every molecule in this universe lay. It constantly ran simulations, fed by the minds of the dead that were given to it.
The Oracle’s prophecies were cryptic, but always true. A pity that it had waged war against them all those hundreds of years ago.
With great sacrifice they had contained it here, promised it their dead, and it had sealed itself off. To approach it was madness; to do so, death.
But it had to be done. He had to be the one to do it. And so he stepped forward. The hot sand crunched underfoot, till it gave way to smooth black stone. The wind stopped attacking him as he entered the labyrinth; only its scream followed.
Billions of heavy black stones made up its structure, each one containing the body of a dead angel. This was their promised afterlife. They could live on inside its simulations, if not in reality. He stepped further in, confident. If he showed a shred of fear, those stones would come crashing down upon him, and he would join them.
He stopped once the howling of the wind disappeared behind him and the darkness of the towers replaced the blistering sun.
‘I’m here to speak to you, Oracle. Show yourself.’ Only silence responded. ‘Show yourself!’
The voice came from all around him, booming through the corridors and the endless labyrinth. It held no tone, no gender, no emotion – only loudness.
‘You trespass.’
‘You knew I would come.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you know the question I have to ask.’
‘Yes.’
‘So answer it!’
‘And what will you grant me in return?’
‘You already know what I will grant you.’
‘I do. But there is a structure to this. Much like your question must be uttered for me to answer it, your promise must be given.’
‘I-’ sweat pricked at his brow. His hidden wings itched. ‘I cannot.’
‘If you cannot utter the words, how will you do the deeds?’
The Oracle was right. This is not what he envisioned for his life. His purpose was always to protect his people, to do what was best for them. This is why he took the path of a politician. This is why he became an archangel. This is why he fought in the war.
But what he saw there, on those plains and in those icy mountains, horrified him. What the gods could do. And the demons as well. The administration would do nothing about it. Nothing but make promises of peace. Promises that would not last.
He hoped he was mistaken, but he knew he was not. Still, he lacked the courage to take up his arms, to do what needed to be done. Doubt still lingered in his mind. If he were wrong, would all the suffering that he would cause be worth it? But if he were right-
‘Very well. You want the dead to fill this place. You want to absorb their memories and take from them what you desire.’ His voice was shaking, hands balled into fists, still he continued, ‘But we barely die. We never age. We don’t get sick. So I will create War and Famine. Disease and Chaos. I will give you the bodies you desire if you but answer my question.’
‘An agreement has been reached. Ask your question, and I shall give you your prophecy.’
‘What does the future hold in store for us – for our civilisation? If things carry on the way they are now, will we be fine? Or are we heading for disaster as I fear?’
‘When the five become one. When the twice-born sits on her throne, and seven kingdoms become six. When the Divine Empire falls, to ruin and ambition. When Amanarath sings the last song of a dead God. The Great One will awaken. Destruction and conquest will follow. Till the child of four worlds unites Hell against itself. The rivers of every world will run red, as their oceans swell with the dead. Strife will consume all.’ The Oracle paused for a moment, as if it was choosing its next words carefully. ‘There will be nothing but Blood & Fire.’
The nightmares were true then. If he did not act – swallow his pride and his morality, do what needed to be done to save his people – they were all doomed to this fate. So he turned and strode out of the City of the Dead without a further word.
He would give the Oracle what he had promised; through that promise, he would save his people. Tears bled from his eyes as he walked out. Tears for what he would do, for what he would become. But he had to do it. To protect his people, his empire. All threats, no matter how small, must be destroyed. Pray that it wasn’t useless. For in the end, the prophecies could not be undone. They never could be. But he had to try. No matter the cost. Otherwise…
There would be nothing but blood and fire.
