In such a way, Arda is in a unique position. Whereas Paraideisius was long unified before any contact with other worlds and from what is known, Tartarus has almost always been ruled by its epoch-spanning royal lineage since inception, Arda has not unified even in the wake of the Arascan War. Even when two other worlds came down upon it, the neutral nations would seek to negotiate with both the White Pantheon and with the Empire. The amount of inwards hatred on that world is utterly baffling.

  This can be demonstrated through the very existence of Malam, of Hatred herself. If there existed such a creature on Paraideisius, it would swiftly be locked away and confined to the deepest, most forgotten exiles for all eternity. Even Malam declares herself as irredeemable. Whereas we are not here to judge them for what they are, and we have our own worries about Tartarian expansionism to try and mitigate their endless birthing crisis, we can only gaze upon such a figure in sheer awe at the… What word should even go here? Honesty? To have Malam walk free throughout the world is akin to enabling a soul whose purpose is nothing but terror walk free. From the short exchanges we have received from the Empire, there is no want for reformation within her. The need for atonement is simply scoffed upon. She looked down on us even as Arascus’ Empire was crumbling.

  But more baffling are the words of the White Pantheon. Malam to them is not some great anomaly, she is merely a known hindrance in the same way that one would expect puddles and mud in a forest after rain. Ironically, they seem to bear little hatred for the Goddess of Hatred and instead reserve that privilege for their own compatriots. Maisara has openly stated that she would not weep if the men we send are slaughtered for they are soldiers, and soldiers fighting for foreign lands at that. Fortia has accused us of being mercenaries of morality. To Elassa, we are a hive of knowledge that only exists to be exploited. The Forces seem not to care for us whatsoever. Theosius pities our involvement in his war.

  When we heard that the God of the Forge would frequently craft armours and weapons for his adversaries, we thought it was some inner charity that was only done during times of peace, or maybe as ways as a way to build bridges for his faction. Eventually, it was discovered that the man is sick and wishes to simply test his own skills, it was not charity. It was fulfilment in the fact that none could do what he did. The cessation of his activities actually required us to play by their tactics, which was to threaten the pulling out of support from the Arascan war.

  On Paraideisius, we refuse to paint even a single island as sick for even if the rule is evil, then an exception must exist. Yet as I write this, I am conflict. The Ardan mentality is such that if they ever were to unite, they would pose a threat greater than Tartarus ten times over. I am quite certain that not only would they seek our extinction, I am starting to believe that they would celebrate. Allasaria and Helenna framed the conflict as a war against a zealous ideologue who wishes for nothing but domination and we stepped in, trusting that fact.

  Yet upon examination, what difference is there between Arascus and Allasaria? Kassandora or Fortia? Helenna or Malam? I would argue that the biggest fools are our own people at home who clamour for salvation for a race that considers itself Divine yet is everything but…

  ...

  As I write this document, I realise the issue is Arda itself. The planet carries a ravenous plague against reasonable mentality. It has infected even myself. I submit this entire text as my resignation letter. I ask that you do not question my resignation for I fear Arda’s illness will swallow you as well.

  My final request is that Paraideisius never return to that world again. The only conclusion is that Arda will destroy us. The only difference will be whether they annihilate us physically, or whether we defeat them and annihilate our spirits.

  - Archangel Ilahim’s Resignation Letter to the Conclave after Returning from the War on Arda.

  Fortia took a step onto the Divine Mountain. Maisara behind her. There would be no glory won today, there would be no celebration for the White Pantheon, if that institution even existed still. Allasaria had still not returned. Fortia and Maisara she would anytime soon. The initial negotiations back in the Great War had taken years and even then, everyone important knew that those two worlds had been largely tricked into assisting the White Pantheon. The paltry sums they had sent at first only had the element of novel surprise against Kassandora. When the Seraphim at Sandorf was slain, it had escalated the war. Paraideisius had lost what was equivalent to their titan. It was thanks to Helenna’s words that they did not pull out, that they started to believe that now that Arascus knew of them, he would advance on them. That wasn’t wrong of course. Arascus would advance on them eventually. Everyone knew that. The God of Pride was the only fool amongst them who could actually conceptualize ruling the entire world.

  And once one got to one world? What was two? Three?

  Fortia looked up at the night sky above. It was tinted grey, the ashen skies of Tartarus had penetrated here too, they were once again expanding over the waters into Epa, slower this time though. tTansport here had been slow. The two Goddesses needed to take a boat from Khmet into Epa and then waltz through Imperial territory to get to Olympiada. Fortia had sent a letter to the Empire that she would be travelling, that they could try to stop her if they wished but that she was not looking for a fight with them. Bar the odd military scouts pretending not to track their locations, no one had so much as looked at them. Arascus did not even come to gloat about his success.

  That was terribly disappointing.

  They walked up the stairs leading to it. Maisara and Fortia were giants compared to the men, each easily twice the height of one. They crossed several with each step, their armours shining in the pale sunlight, the former reflecting silver, the latter gold-bronze. The men behind did not tire either. They had come with rifle and sword and shield and spear, with everything that a vanguard force needed. Blessings of strength and endurance carried them up the mountain and devoured the distance to the summit where the White Pantheon had once reigned over the whole world.

  And what a state it had been reduced to. Fortia did not know if this was more dismal than the last time she had visited, or if she was simply growing more bitter by the moment. To think that ash had fallen on the mountain and discoloured the white marbles into a monocolour of grey. Iniri’s proud gardens had withered away. The services of servants and attendants had disappeared. Even the minor Divines were beginning to leave. There was less of the supersized-humans walking about than when she had gone to visit Theosius. How many went to join Arascus? How many to Ciria? How many had simply gone back to their local, irrelevant little temples and sects and cults? Those that stayed averted their eyes when they saw Peace and Order return. They fled before two Goddesses that marched ahead with a conviction utter and definite.

  And then, they all came to stop in the central crossroads. Zerus, Sceo and Alkom once again hovered in the air. They had not ignored Fortia as they did when she came along. They just stared. There was not even an introduction. Their eyes passed over Maisara as if they had not left to die before Neneria. Fortia felt her mouth twist with disgust. How dare they even wear those white-gold shawls after such a humiliation? How dare they display their powers so openly? Oh? They had strength? Where was that strength back then? Fate was truly a cursed little imp to give these fools the ability to fly for they would have been led long ago if they lacked it.

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  And to think that they were just upstart fools. That was the worst part of it all. Allasaria was one thing but Allasaria had her own utopia she worked towards. It differed from Fortia’s utopia and it differed from Maisara’s utopia but it was a utopia itself, that much non could deny. The matter of fact was that not a single one of them wanted to ruin the world, none would see it set ablaze. Even Arascus, for all his pompous talk, would set aside his blade in the name of unity would push come to shove. Zerus, Alkom and Sceo did not even have that. They did not know the meaning of such a word unless it was used to secure yet another of their endless indulgences.

  Fortia stared up at the three Divines in the air. Frauds, the lot of them. Frauds to the Pantheon. Frauds to Divinity itself. No ideals of any sort, no dreams, no aspirations, tools to be commanded. Tools that had long grown comfortable in their toolishness and who now thought they could demand who wielded them. The Goddess of Peace came to a stop, the Goddess of Order stopped by her. The small army of several thousand men they had brought stopped behind them. “Greetings.” Fortia shouted into the air and Olympiada went even more silent than it had been before. The Goddess of Peace wondered if the wind had truly come to listen to her, or if it was Sceo stopping it.

  “Greetings Fortia.” Zerus’ voice boomed down upon them. “You have returned to the mountain.”

  “It is a business trip.” Fortia snapped immediately.

  Zerus took a pause. Fortia heard the loud sigh that escaped his lips. “A business trip.” He said and pointed to the Guardians and Paladins behind the two. “With an army? I am too old for such word-games, what do you intend to do?”

  Fortia just stared up at Zerus but it was Maisara who replied. “Should explanation be necessary? Two of the Founding thirteen return and the first thing you do is question? Shame on you Zerus.”

  “I am also a seat on the Council.” Zerus replied.

  “A seat that was bought for power.” Maisara replied. “And not even you will argue that fact.”

  “Arascus does the same.” Zerus replied. “For what does Olephia bring to his so-called family? What does Fer?”

  Sceo joined in. “Do not speak to him like that!”

  Maisara scoffed. Fortia just stared up at the three silently. She spread her hands out to either side. “I shall speak to whoever I want however I want and I will have to be killed to stop it.” She made her voice louder. “Now where is Allasaria? Where is Elassa? Where is Iniri even? What of Atis? You think that the command of lightning is some strength? Do you wish to test that notion? Come now? Test it! Elassa has left! Allasaria will not suddenly materialize out of thin air to save you!”

  Zerus just stared down at Fortia and Maisara. They did not even draw their weapons yet. Alkom was the first to crack, he just looked to Zerus. The husband and wife stood there in the air though, staring down at Fortia, still untouched by the wind. “You will regret such words.” The God of Lightning said.

  “If I regret them, then it will not be because of you.” Fortia shouted back.

  That was the crushing blow. Everyone could see it. Sceo’s composure seemingly cracked and the wind blew her dress. The sleeves of Zerus’ cloak swayed, as did Alkom’s. “Then I ask again, what do you intend to do?”

  “I intend to inspect Leona’s temple for a guide on how to defeat Arascus.” Fortia shouted. That was close enough to the truth without being revealing.

  “You venture into the demesne of the greatest of us then.” Zerus said. “For what-“

  “Spare me the moralising Zerus.” Maisara interrupted. “We are not equal. Fortia stands as the Goddess who gave you orders in the Great War. I stand as the architect of Pantheon Peace. Judge us all you want but that is all you will ever do old fool. Stand in the air or not, you will not stop us. Her temple will be inspected, whether we walk there under your gaze or over your body matters not to me.”

  That shut the conversation down. Zerus took a deep breath. “Maisara.” He said. “It is a matter of tradition and precedent, of Order itself, surely you of all people must understand.”

  “Oh Greatest Force.” Maisara replied. “I saw your strength when you abandoned me before Neneria. Judge us evil, judge us treacherous, judge us however you wish.” She spat on the ground. “I do not listen to the opinions of cowards.”

  “Even Allasaria would have not stood against Neneria in that state.”

  “No.” Maisara said. “No she would not have. Allasaria has no interest in the fate of Divinity save how it serves her. But there is one who does.” Fortia blinked. Surely not on here? She would not reprimand Maisara for it. It was true. But surely she would not say it on the Mountain itself? Maisara continued effortlessly, not even giving a moment for the shock to on the three Forces to set in. “For it was under Arascus that I was brought back. What a gift he gave me that I share this world with your sorry soul for another day.” She took a deep breath. “If Fortia were not in charge here, you three would be dead already. I would have beheaded each and every one of you for the crime of cowardice.”

  “And what would you have done in our situation then?” Sceo shouted.

  “I would have done the exact same thing I did.” Maisara said. “I would have stood. I would have faced her. I would have died.” She took a step forward again. “Because that is what I did.” She stood, arms apart and legs apart as if ready to catch a charge bull head-on. “Like this I stood as her storm of souls came down upon me. That is what separates an abstract of humanity from a force of nature! It is the fact that I burn with a spirit!”

  “We will pass.” Fortia added as Maisara finished. This game was over. They had finally won something. “And you will not stop us because you are incapable of stopping us. We would have not been able to bring an army onto the Mountain if you were. That is the proof of it.” She lowered her tone. “Come Maisara.”

  Fortia set off once again. Maisara fell in line. The Paladins and Guardians moved once again. And the three forces on Arda, pillars of strength who other Divines envied could do nothing but stare. So they marched. Not to their own, long-abandoned districts. Eyes were not even thrown in that direction. There was nothing there at this point but stone and stagnation. No. It was down a long and lonely road. Once, this had been the Gardens of Olympiada, powered by Iniri and maintained by Leona. The betrayal of the former and the death of the latter had sent those gardens to waste.

  What a bitter taste it left in Fortia’s mouth. Of course such a simple beauty such as a garden could not be left to be maintained by the likes of Zerus. Sceo famously loved flowers and how their petals danced in the wind. Fortia cast her eyes over the dirt that was buried under a thin layer of ash. Even the trees were beginning to wilt away. No leaves sat on any of them.

  And yet they did not stop to gaze in disgust. They just marched to the smallest home on all Olympiada. Smallest for Leona did not need a fortress like Fortia or Maisara to prove herself. Nor great complexes like the rest of them to show off their power. Smallest for Leona knew all and all who saw Leona could immediately tell that the Goddess of Luck had fate on her side.

  And yet, that fate had eventually ran out.

  Fortia marched up the small set of steps that led to the wooden door of Leona’s home. Maisara behind her. An army in tow. And so the Temple of the Goddess of Luck was ransacked. Not by Death, not by Chaos, not Darkness nor Pride. Every stone was torn apart, every entrance found, every room inspected, every letter written, every diary opened, every chest and locker foisted open, every last piece was upturned.

  In the name of Peace. In the name of Order.

  And it was found.

  Not in Alice’s room but in Leona’s private quarters. She had never even sent it off, instead locking it away. She had never even finished it.

  Dear Alice.

  Sweetheart, this will be my last letter to you. What comes after this, I do not know.

  What I should write, I do not know either.

  I apologize for this moment of realization should have come earlier.

  I failed you truly, for I saved your life in exchange for everything that makes humans special.

  I should have never made you so dependent upon me.

  I hope that you will be able to move on.

  I will…

  I don’t know what I will do.

  Maisara read it. Fortia read it. What a crushing defeat. What a waste of strength. No. Of course not. Leona had never needed to plan anything. Luck was always on her side until it was not. “Someone will know.” Maisara’s whisper had all the glory that abandon did, none.