There are many things one can say about Divines, but dishonest is rarely one of them. It is a behaviour trait we have self-selected for seemingly on accident. Any fools who could not be trusted to keep their word were simply ostracized and exiles from human society. Any whose blessings were revoked for arbitrary reasons suddenly found themselves lacking for recruits. Any who stabbed their fellow Divines in the back were left to wander alone until they were eventually picked off.

  And tears do not fall for liars.

  Even the most powerful of us, such as the late Paramethus, Arascus, Allasaria and Irinika, cannot hope to stand alone against the entire world. Even Olephia would not be able to hold a kingdom together. Whereas she may not be killed, she likewise would not be able to rule unless she was willing to make her kingdom one of ash and ash alone. Arda is a mistress that naturally resists dominion. Never has a Divine existed that is omnipotent or invincible. All can be killed eventually. Dishonesty is a luxury and a debt that is paid for by strength. Yet whereas Divinity may not lie outright, there is still a matter of manipulation. Maisara is an extreme in this sense for she offloads the meaning of the word to the letter and not to the spirit.

  It is rare for a Divine to make an outright proclamation. Failure would besmirch one’s honour. It would stain the reputation, it would need to be forgotten by mortals and then fellow Divines would have to be bought as to not constantly humanity of it. Although there are no hard rules, it is simple code of conduct for ourselves. One that had served us in the past and one that should serve us into the future: Do not make promises you are unable to keep.

  I remember when I heard the news that Arascus said he would relight the Suns under the Surface.

  What a proclamation.

  I believe him.

  - Excerpt from the secret diary of Goddess Helenna, of Love.

  Olephia didn’t say a word. Now that it was activating, she wouldn’t risk it. In that gemstone cavern she stood, the spotlights that cast their blinding white light inside the room suddenly were not the brightest thing. The light they cast no longer bounced around in the broken forms of rainbows as the entire world around Olephia suddenly began to grow bright. There she stood, a tiny little Goddess, it felt… it was almost wrong for her to witness such an event.

  For once, she did not stand and record with her eyes to try and remember every tiny detail for one of her own paintings. Olephia just stood, hand on the World-Core and looked around in awe. Colours spiralled through one another as detached from the artificial light of the spotlights. Greens and oranges and reds and purples and blues began to swirl in a spiral, ever faster, ever closer to where Olephia stood.

  And the Goddess of Chaos watched as she stood there in a black coat. Her dark hair fell down her back, her violet eyes looking all around. They gazed at the carved pillars of opaque gemstones. Olephia had thought they were supports at first, decorations after that. Now, she watched a mesmerizing torrent cascade down them towards where she stood.

  Olephia’s eyes travelled down to her black boots, not to her though. They ignored Olephia entirely, passing straight underneath as the air began to grow noticeably warmer. Lights danced and the shadows in them dived towards the World Core as if they were surfing great tides. Olephia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She listened to the faint hum of the lights behind her and her own breath. In and out, slow and steady, below it was her heartbeat pumping steadily. The stone was obviously heating up, this heat could not be just her own body temperature.

  And then she heard another heartbeat, pumping along with hers. Slower slightly, lower too, but definitely there. A low heartbeat from ahead and above, from the Core itself. A heartbeat and a crack. Olephia opened her eyes and finally stepped away.

  This terrible seed, jagged and rotten and wilted, was beginning to crack. Olephia took another step back and another. It had taken thirteen syllables to start it, she didn’t know what would happen if she stayed too close. The Goddess of Chaos spun around, her hair whipping her face, her coat flaring like a blooming flower, and then then she ran to the entrance. Past the spotlamps, those were almost dim in comparison to the rest of the room right now. Past the rolling cameras. And into the corridor that was lit by all the different shades of warm and golden lights.

  And Olephia turned to watch the World Core begin to awaken. It shattered once. It shattered again. It kept on that shattering until that black shell around it was more crack than surface and then some. Again and again, until the sound was more akin to the rapid buzzing of a million flies rather than glass being broken. A beam of light broke through the shell where crack formed over crack and shell was burned away. And then another. And another. Until there was nothing left. Olephia’s mouth fell open, her knees gave out, she dropped to the floor.

  It was the most gorgeous shifting set of colours she had ever seen.

  Above her, more lights raced down the corridors, through winding veins of stones that suddenly began to be illuminated. Down a set of stairs, where each tile had an outline. Into statues where finer details revealed themselves, runes told of kings and warriors and poets and artificers. All matters of runes that could no longer be read for even the dwarves themselves had lost the art of that language which had once been spoken by men that claimed the heart of the world. Ancient arteries that had been constructed by ancient men, all set to glow and claim the underground as another dominion of mankind.

  Down those lights raced, pushing away darkness that had been unopposed for a thousand years. They burned the leeching roots that attempted to claim the power of the seed for themselves. They raced past another group. A group of composed of dwarves and humans and a Goddess of Nature. Iniri stood in her black coat as men looked into the screens, their eyes transfixed in awe at what was happening. The readers and scanners had burned out almost instantly, their numbers spiralling into oblivion before flatlining straight back down to zero. The entire group was in hushed silence.

  Everyone knew what had happened but to voice it would be akin to voicing that they had conquered the universe. It was simply too grand a claim. It was for the likes of Olephia and Arascus to declare. Not for this sorry band of scientist and king and ancient Goddess. And… Iniri blinked again, her green eyes utterly mesmerized by the ever shifting shape of colours. It was moving constantly, yet it was still. It had no edge, yet it was defined. It was brighter than the rest of that crystal chamber, yet that chamber already had all the light in the world.

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  And then, the tunnel that led to it began to glow. Ancient veins that once lit up the hallway began to glow. In the distance, something began to creak. Something turned. Above Iniri, a pattern shining in warm gold arranged lit up. It matched the stars in the sky. One of the scientists finally turned off the flashlight in his hand as if to test whether that light was real. Another man sighed. One of the dwarves fell over. Iniri’s mouth fell open as she tasted the air warm up to the pleasant temperature of a summer afternoon.

  On a screen, it was unbelievable. It was extraordinary. It was too fantastical, too glorious, too inspiring for Iniri to let herself believe it. Yet now, as she stood in a tunnel that had sat cold for a thousand years, it was utterly undeniable. More than that. It was certain. It was real. It was happening. One man broke the spell. “We’ve done it!” A scientist shouted. “It’s turning on!”

  For a moment. There was silence.

  And then the cheers from less than a hundred men and less than fifty dwarves sounded as if they were all the cheers in the world. Iniri looked around as she saw coats thrown in the air. The dwarves took off their helms, those too were sent soaring. Men threw each other up. Someone wished for a bottle of drink, someone else popped one that had been smuggled down here.

  And Iniri tasted the air. She raised her hand. She felt the essence of those ancient roots retreat further into the darkness as they fled before the energy of the World Core. She blinked tears of triumph away from her eyes and hardened her legs to keep herself from shaking. Her eyes went to the dwarves.

  High King Osonev was on his knees, his mouth open as he stared up at the ceiling. A dwarf by his side. “By…” He mumbled to himself. “By... what…” And then he shook his head as a dwarf came to his side. The dwarf looked down at him.

  “We’ve done it Osonev.” He passed his hand.

  “By what right do we deserve it Vizin?”

  “By every right.” The dwarf called Vizin replied. Iniri realised she knew who that was. Forgemaster Vizin, she had seem him when she had first come with Arascus to Klavdiv. “Come, on your feet friend. We’ve done it.”

  “Vizin…” Osonev mumbled. Iniri pretended not to be listening as she felt the energies in the air. She looked to cheering scientists. “Vizin…”

  “It’s yours to say.” The Forgemaster said. “We’ve done it Osonev. It’s over. It’s…” The Forgemaster collapsed onto the High King, wrapping short arms around his shoulders for support. “The night is over.” More dwarves collapsed. They sat down or fell onto their backs and stared up at the lights. A smile so wide they could have been looking at their first breath of their first child. It even made Iniri wipe her eyes. She watched Osonev gently push Vizin away from himself.

  The Holdmaster of Klavdiv, the High King of the Underkingdom, raised that ancient axe into the air. “I declare!” His voice boomed and immediately silence set about the whole group. Even the humans turned and ceased their cheering. “The World-Core burns once again! I declare…” He pumped the axe even higher. “Our vows are fulfilled! The watch is over!”

  And once again, the world rumbled with cheers. Yet the light of the World Core that streamed down veins of stone and metal and was channelled into batteries and statues did not stop to wait for them. It kept on flowing. Back through the path they had taken and into the walls, through hidden, long-buried flows that guided its magic onwards and outwards. Up and up, it crossed ravines and sent statues that stored souls moving once again. An automaton completed its swing of a pick. A gear began to turn. A vat of steel alloy that had been untouched for a thousand years began to heat up. More lights turned.

  Even tunnel that had been flooded with poison in attempt to safeguard the Core after its loss, the one that Olephia had annihilated a path through on their way down here began to warm up. No longer was it the heat of apocalyptic nuclear fission, but the gentle warmth of life. Remains of what had been left behind by the Goddess of Chaos flickered into life. A light turned on. A section of tunnel lit up, where a long vein of bronze and gold began to shine like a hearth. Then on the other side. All the way up to the blockade that Iniri had established with her trees to safeguard Klavdiv from Olephia’s hellfire.

  And above that barrier of wood, the grandest city under the world once again began to turn on. The Imperial Army stationed within it stopped. The endless logistics chains of Empire came to a halt as drivers slowed down their cars. The dwarves that lived in the city walked to their windows and out through their doors as they gazed everywhere and anywhere. Masters and craftsmen left their tools where they stood to look around. A general sent an order to Imperial Strategic Command: “The Core is on. I repeat. The Core is one.” And Klavdiv answered.

  Great statues finished a swing and a movement, a step. Golems the size of mountains shook their heads. The countless ores that still sat in ancient refineries began to glow as fires burst out around them. A grand gear, the size of a house, began to turn. A piston hissed, then another. Hearts burst alight with orange flame, children’s eyes grew wide and parents finally snuffed out candles that should have never been snuffed out. Everyone knew of Olephia and Iniri, everyone knew that the High King had taken their greatest down to help their Goddesses. Everyone had waited with bated breath, hopeful yet unbelieving.

  The ancient dead, bones animated by runework and powered only by the honour and spite and duty of ancestral spirits finally took a step back. Some collapsed into dust on the spot. Others turned, their ghosts finally taking a moment to look upon a sight that they had not seen once when they lived. A team that was pulling a grand chain in attempt to manually power Klavdiv’s waterworks as they had for centuries stepped away. The chain moved by itself as waters roared through aqueducts. Pools began to steam. The grand gates that needed to be manually twisted open and thus were left at a permanent sliver began to shift and release light into Highways that through which the light of the World Core spread. The greatest dwarven golem, Ozonith, guardian of this city, stood up from its stone throne.

  And all eyes turned up to the ceiling. Patterns and lines formed inscriptions and diagrams up there. Art of famous battles that even the dwarves still left had resigned to glorious mythology revealed itself. The night sky, all shining in orange and gold twinkled in stone. Pillars flared with flame to bring the temperature of the city up from freezing once again. And all life in Klavdiv turned to the most fantastical, most undeniable reminder of their fall.

  The great spheres stitched into the ceiling. Orbs that were adorned with so many runes they had become impossible to read, where word was written over word to create new meaning and again. A triumph of ancient architecture, ancient power, ancient wisdom, a symbol that had become mocking for it sat so close yet utterly ignorant of the plight of the denizens below. The Sun under the Surface. Klavdiv had five of them.

  Runes began to twist and turn and rumble. A fire was started around the edge, where the object was cast into the ceiling. Flame twisted and roared and spiralled into an inferno as runes underneath beneath it began to glow brighter and brighter. Darkness below was pushed away. Away from the grand bridges of the city. Away from its main streets. Away from its alleys. Away from twists and turns, away from behind posts. Away from temples and forts and homes. Away from grand refineries that once were engines of empire. Away from the city and the Underkingdom. Away from Klavdiv and outwards further still as the Highways began to light up.

  Away from the hearts of all who saw it.

  After a thousand years of nighttime, the land with a ceiling for a sky finally saw the light of dawn.

  Daybreak had come.

  The Suns under the Surface shone once again.