Level One God

Oriander

Behind me, the work continued. The sound was a constant clink and clatter as the men and women worked on the containment room being built behind my throne.

The work had already taken longer than intended, but nothing could be done. Two men and two women had spent the past six weeks locked in my chamber, forbidden from leaving and forbidden from contacting the outside world in any way. They were told it was a temporary sacrifice for the Long Watch, and in a way, it was true.

One of the men had taken to making conversation with me. At first, I had ignored him. It was unbecoming for someone of such a low rank within my order to speak to me as he did. But in the end, I relented. Maybe I was growing soft with age. Or maybe I simply enjoyed speaking to a man who would never live to speak of what he heard to anyone beyond this room.

The work stopped and my servants gathered behind my throne. I heard the scrape of plates and cutlery as they took their dinner. One of my men brought food for them each day, slipping it beneath the double doors leading to the throne room.

“My Lord Watcher,” Culver said. He was the bold one who spoke to me. The others had scarcely said a word.

I turned to face the young man. He had sharp features and the bright eyes of a boy who still thought he had only begun experiencing what the world could offer. It was a shame he had been selected for this task, but we all made sacrifices. I wasn’t so sure I would choose my position over his. To toil for centuries toward a singular goal—a goal nobody else can know or understand? To watch the world creep by as long-laid plans and traps slowly but surely take shape?

A lesser man would have gone mad in my place.

No, Culver’s fate was a mercy. He should be glad he would never know the lengths I had suffered to come this far.

“It’s done,” Culver said.

Surprised, I slid my eyes to the wall, noticing for the first time that the bricks were completely closed up and in place, just as I had requested. I knew beyond the false wall, there was a round chamber dug out of the dirt and bricked in. Water had been diverted from a stream outside and channeled down so it ran through the room. Containment chains that I had personally enchanted were installed and connected within.

The corner of my mouth twitched upward. “Good. You’ve all done excellent work, and I thank you for it.”

Culver and the others bowed their heads and stopped eating, even though I knew they would be starving after so much work.

“Please, eat,” I said.

They gratefully continued.

I placed my hands behind my back, walking in a slow, well-worn circle before my throne.

“Long years have a way of blurring together,” I said, speaking to no one in particular but knowing Culver would respond.

“How many years has it been for you, My Lord Watcher?” Culver asked.

It was a ridiculously improper question—the kind of question I might usually have a man flogged or banished for. But I only smiled softly, giving a truth that only Nine beings could have possibly answered. “One thousand and forty years, give or take a few.”

Culver’s jaw dropped. “So long, My Lord Watcher?”

I nodded. I knew my body and face didn’t look a day over thirty. One thousand and forty years, yet I was still no closer to cracking the secret to divinity. Serving The Nine faithfully for centuries, enduring their disappearance, and studying every scrap of text, every gods-forsaken ruin, and even delving into the rifts hadn’t brought me closer.

But I didn’t let my frustration show. Wearing emotions on my face was a habit I had long since abandoned. My face was a mask carved for my purposes—not some wild animal to betray my thoughts.

“Some let the years drive them mad. Did you know that? The endless march of time… it can wear away the mind like a stone beneath the current of a river.”

Culver smiled. “Surely water cannot wear away stone, My Lord Watcher.”

“Given enough time, even the air itself can carve stone, Culver. The stationary object will always fail, given enough time. The truth of longevity is movement. It’s adaptability. It’s change.”

Culver looked deeply thoughtful at this, then nodded his head.

“I have watched powerful men and women walk the same path for so long that they wear a groove into the ground. They walk and they walk and they walk. They keep going for centuries, eons. Without realizing it, they wear a path so deeply into the ground that it becomes a pair of walls, caging them in. They can no longer change. They can no longer adapt. They’re prisoners of their habits and vices. But that will never be me.”

“Does it have to do with… the thing in the chamber?” Culver asked. His eyes twitched toward the sealed wall. All four servants had hardly spoken of what they saw within that room—the reason for all this cloak-and-dagger business in the first place.

“The thing in that room is part of a larger plan, yes. Perhaps the biggest part, but time will tell. I know better than to put all of my trust in one tool.”

“My Lord Watcher?” Culver said, swallowing visibly. “What were The Nine like?”

“Flawed,” I said simply.

This drew a shocked gasp from the four servants. I was, after all, the highest priest of The Long Watch—the order established by Sylphara herself and devoted to watching for her return. We were essentially the church of Sylphara, self-proclaimed worshippers and champions of her cause. But I had watched her in those final years. I had seen how she changed after delving into the rifts repeatedly, each time coming back more haunted. I had seen the way they were all changing in the end, unable to fathom a threat greater than their power, and unable to seek a solution beyond increasing their own capabilities.

“Yes,” I said. “Flawed to their very cores. When they learned of a threat to existence itself, they delved inward. They sought only to increase their own power, never imagining there could be another way to face the enemy. That is why they don’t deserve our reverence.”

The silence from the four servants was almost palpable, now.

I walked toward them, kneeling and placing a hand on Culver’s shoulder. By now, they were fools if they didn’t see where this ended—if they didn’t know they had seen and heard too much to ever leave this room.

“Your sacrifice is more meaningful because it’s a sacrifice to my plan. Don’t die thinking your life was given for nothing. Die knowing you helped place a brick in the grand plan. The one true plan to save Eros.” I smiled benevolently, closed my eyes, and eradicated the four servants.

The only sign of their ever having existed was the faintest smell of ozone and a ripple in the currents of mana around the room. I waved it all away, erasing them completely and breathing in deeply. I didn’t enjoy these things at all.

No. I found them regrettable and unpleasant. But I only had to focus on the one true plan to remember why it was all necessary.

I wanted to enter the chamber where my prisoner waited, but I wasn’t quite ready. My long years had given me something of a sixth sense for this temple and its happenings. I felt someone coming, so I sat down on my throne.

I would have said the timing was fortunate, but that would undermine the care with which I had set things into motion. No. The timing wasn’t fortunate. The timing was as it should have been.

A knock came at the double doors to the throne room.

“My Lord Watcher,” a voice called, slightly muffled by the door but easy enough for my enhanced ears to comprehend. “I come bearing news. Shall I deliver it now, or do you wish for me to enter?”

It was Ashanda.

“Enter,” I said, voice booming through the hall.

The doors to the chamber swung open. The Hall of the Long Watch was ornate, with green gems and silver metal adorning every hard surface. Elaborate rugs and banners of green and silver hung wherever possible, and even the fires in the many hearths were fed with rare minerals to burn bright green and white.

Ashanda, my high priestess walked slowly in the room, sandaled feet making scuffing sounds on the polished stone floor. Her hair had gone silver years ago. Every year, she was more bent and slow-moving, her body failing her as the mana in her core stiffened and dried up. None of my priests were permitted to advance past Wood. If she were allowed to advance, Ashanda’s body would heal, eventually returning her to the youthful and vibrant woman I had recruited many years ago.

Alas, that would never happen.

Like so many other evils, the churn of old age and death among my servants was necessary. Like the four servants I had removed from the flow moments ago, they all made sacrifices. Necessary sacrifices. Some paid with their lives. Others paid with service. Ashanda paid with wasted potential.

The high priestess stopped short of the raised dias where my throne sat. She knelt, lowered her head and spoke to the floor.

“My Lord Watcher,” she said. “Your man returned from Beastden just moments ago. He reported that the dungeon was in an unusual state. A contingent of Azure Guard has recruited all the adventurers to try to destroy some sort of spawning room. He… mentioned your son was waiting in the entrance chamber. Alone, My Lord.”

I leaned forward. “Alone?” I let mana trickle into my aura. I knew its effect on lesser ranks and saw her body tighten. It would feel as if the room itself was pushing in on her, squeezing her.

Ashanda’s head lowered until it seemed as if she wanted to kiss the ground. “Yes, My Lord. He said Cassian was waiting alone.”

“What of the two he was supposed to be with?”

She shook her head.

It could mean nothing, but it wasn’t according to my instructions. I very much disliked it when things didn’t go according to my instructions. When it came to my troublesome son, things rarely ever went along the lines of my plans. To Cassian’s credit, he did have a way of reaching the intended goal, even when the pathway wasn’t what I ordered.

If not, even my own son would find himself extracted from the cogs of the grand plan, used up or sacrificed in some way or another.

Maybe the fools had devised some kind of plan to separate. But it wasn’t what I told the damn boy to do. Then again, I had also told him he was forbidden from advancing beyond Wood like the rest of the order. He was a problem, and my own weakness for him may yet be something I needed to address sooner or later.

This Rake fool had already disrupted my plans once regarding the blue-horned godling. I couldn’t even be certain the correct Briarwraith had reached the godling. The entire situation had turned into a mess, and my son was supposed to be the key to fixing it. Now, even he was deviating from the script.

All I could do now was wait to see what happened, then plan accordingly once the results played out. It was, after all, a single thread of many needed to bring the entire tapestry together.

“What of the other matter?” I asked, releasing the mana from my aura.

I saw Ashanda take in a small, relieved breath, but she kept her head bowed. “You were correct, My Lord. The man we took in for questioning knew a great deal. He claims there was a young, female adventurer near Coil. The adventurer was seen traveling solo into a dungeon and identified as Wood two weeks ago. She was spotted in Coil and identified as Silver just a day ago.”

“Wood to Silver in two weeks…” I muttered. It was maddening. Those who deserved power the least always seemed to gain it. I thought of my own journey and the centuries of struggle and pain to get where I was. I gripped the edge of the chair hard, squishing the metal like wet putty beneath my fingertips. “Where is this adventurer now? Was there any physical description?”

“She commissioned an airship and rode the gravity wells.”

“To where? Who captained the airship?”

Ashanda hesitated, so I flexed my aura again, bending her again and reminding her not to think. I wanted her unfiltered responses. I wanted the immediate truth.

“We… couldn’t find that information,” she said, voice straining against the weight of my aura. Years ago, she could’ve handled such a slight demonstration of power. Was she truly fading so quickly? Mortality was sickening—a weakness to be overcome easily by those with ambition.

But I couldn’t fault Ashanda for it. Without the restrictions I put on my order, she had the potential to reach Silver. Perhaps even Gold with the proper guidance. While I had pushed beyond such ranks, I knew few enough had what it took to reach even Silver. Someone like Ashanda, who I suspected could have reached Gold, was rare indeed.

I released the pressure again, feeling a shred of sympathy for the aging woman.

“Our sources think the adventurer accumulated a great deal of wealth, My Lord Watcher. She may have bought the airship outright to make it harder for others to track her.”

“And what are you doing to find the woman?”

“Coil requires every traveler using the gravity wells to register their destination and cargo. Even if she owns the airship, she must declare her destination. We’ll have contacts in place to find out where she claimed to go. If she’s found arriving at the wrong port, her airship will be tagged and marked deviant. Our connections will allow us access to the deviant ship logs. We’ll find her, My Lord Watcher.”

“Good,” I said. “I also want you to search Coil, too. Look for any airship captains who seem to be flaunting newfound wealth. If she bought someone off, it won’t be hard to find them. Find this captain, bring him in, and I’ll question him myself. We won’t get fat and lazy with overconfidence. We’ll cover every pathway and every escape route she has.”

“Y-yes, My Lord.”

“Now leave me. Lock my chamber doors and post guards. I don’t want to be disturbed under any circumstance. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashanda nodded shakily, rising without meeting my eyes. She left as quickly as her aging body allowed.

The double doors closed behind her. A moment later, I heard the clatter of metal locks clicking into place and the armored footsteps of guards taking up their posts.

I stood, walked to the back of the room, and ran my hand down the false wall. The servants had done well.

I slipped a precise pattern of mana into the bricks, unlocking them so they swung open as easily as a door on greased hinges.

Only one other living soul knew what was held here. My son, Cassian. Every other individual involved with the prisoner's capture and the chamber's construction was dead.

When Cassian discovered this place, I considered killing him. But Cassian wasn’t simply a son to me. He was a valuable tool with near limitless potential, just as I was a very long time ago. I had long thought how much more I could accomplish if only I could make a copy of myself. My son might be the closest I could come, and it wasn’t prudent to throw him away so quickly.

Perhaps he would disappoint me, but time would tell. For now, I could still make adjustments and adapt if Cassian surprised me.

I let out a long breath. These thoughts had plagued me of late, and the plan was nearing the critical moments.

Cassian and his intentions were something to watch closely, but sending him on the mission was a test. I had sent him to track down the blue-horned godling I believed to be Seraphel. As irony would have it, the path to finding the godling led through the very man who had sabotaged my perfectly clean plan to capture him to begin with.

I had been around long enough to know there were no accidents. Only fate.

So Cassian would bring me Seraphel, destroy the rogue and whoever else he brought for the mission, and then I could temporarily put the question of his loyalty to rest.

If not…

I didn’t enjoy thinking about what would happen then, but there was no time to dwell.

I stepped into the hidden room behind my throne. It was a circular, cavernous chamber with running water cutting through the center. The water surrounded a blackened tree that looked as if it had survived a fire.

As I approached, the tree tried to stand, revealing roots that were legs. Wood splintered and groaned as a charred mouth and narrowed eyes formed in the center of the trunk.

“Calm down, Sylphara,” I said softly.

The chains securing the tree in place rattled and strained as it tried to come for me, crunching over piles of broken bones at its feet.

“First, you’re going to help me find a certain captain in the city of Coil. After that, you’re going to stop feeding me false information about Azmeria. The sooner you understand you have no choice in the matter, the sooner we can be done with all this tedious pain and torture. I don’t know about yourself, but I would prefer that.”

The tree shook against its restraints.

I nodded in sympathy. “Yes. I know you’re hungry. Two young priestesses are already prepared and ready to meet you. Give me these things, and you’ll have them within the hour.”

The tree calmed slightly, stepping back to the patch of grass at the center of the water. Bleached white bones rolled off the small hill and into the water. The tree's eyes appeared, pure white orbs surrounded by blackened wood. Mana swelled, flowing into the room in a fierce rush, as if the tree was gripping the energy from miles around and sucking it inward.

A deathly whisper filled the chamber.

“I see… a woman…” the tree said.