Xilanada - The First Interlude

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In the clamor of Malfaes, the Demon City, a certain sound of silence came over one of the lesser temples.

That meant something.

And so to the temple an Agata came, the beauteous wasp which Creation shunned and cast aside to dwell in the darkness beyond the world.

The Agata, whose 3rd name was Fife Impending Upon Skin, listened and heard in the silence a diminishing of the Names, those Names of the Primordials used to bind them into themselves outside of Creation.

That diminishment meant something.

So, the Agata, whose 9th name meant a quiet moan, called upon the one who expected to be informed of this diminishment in this place, whenever it happened.

To the temple came Vi'terithan, he who was known as the Betrayer 4000 years ago but now was unknown to all, so ancient was his crime.

To the temple came Relentless Tyranny, he who was known as Padrick Ganan, the Lunar Mate to Nocturne Iridescence, the greatest Twilight of the First Age.

To the altar, they both moved and though they were not one, they were one in purpose in this.

"You have called, and I have come," breathed Vi'terathin through the void between worlds, to the one who had called.

"I have called, and you have come," answered Tepet Ajalat Malias, whose old face was white with exertion.

"You are coming close, Malias," Vi'terathin whispered and his smile was cruel and splendid under the light of the green sun.

"How much more is required?" Malias demanded.

"As much as ever required, Malias, only exactly enough."

"How much!"

"As much more as half a length of innocence is measured," Vi'terathin smirked.

Across the Names, still Malias held and so their conversation continued for as long as the Yozi's concessions were properly satisfied.

"Someone new has come, Vi'terathin..." Malias warned.

"Tell me."

"A blonde woman who knows much of the First Age but seems to lack any magical power herself."

Vi'terathin then knew the ominous whisper of prophecy, felt the golden threads of the Power of Creation vie against the Red Rage of Hell.

"Be wary of her, Malias, for she could be the thread that unties the knot of your immortality."

In this minor temple, Vi'terathin could almost reach out and touch the True Chords of Destiny so long denied to him, he who had been locked away with the Yozi's and barred from Creation just as they had.

"She's a danger to me?" Malias demanded.

"She is a danger to Hell itself and all its interests."

"What should I do about her?" Malias asked quietly, the nervousness and fear in his voice well hidden and yet laid out to see and savor to any who had the eyes in this place.

"Kill her if you can."

"And if I can't?"

"Then...see if she can be turned to serve our interests, Malias, for if one such as she could be turned to our cause, Hell would gain an advantage unseen in a thousand years."

"Then I shall do so, Vi'terathin, for I will not allow anything to stand between me and what you will give me when I make the price."

At that, Malias ceased paying the dues Creation exacted for those who worked through the Names to reach those bound by the Names, and the silence became clamor again, as the sounds of the Demon City returned.

Sideways from Creation, beyond the boundaries of existence, the Yozi's continued, imprisoned within their own bodies, imprisoned by their former Names by which they had sworn a truce with the Gods in the First War.

Sideways from Creation stood Hell, the prison created from the twisted bodies of the Demon-Princes themselves.

Sideways from Creation lay the countless millions of the demons, those that served them...and those they served.

Sideways from Creation, Vi'terathin turned to Relentless Tyranny and the two exchanged a smile, for if they were not one, they remained one in purpose and that purpose was coming closer than ever to fruition.