Allasaria, on one hand, was perfect. She is as generous as she is loving. She has a morality zealous, she has her own ideas regarding vice and virtue. She is intelligent, when the family idea was proposed to her, she did not immediately discount it. She sees the issues in Divinity as well as I. The discussions with her have found little disagreements between us. When talking of the future, she is careful too. Obviously she has own ideas and aspirations to strive for, yet they are tempered with the state of reality on Arda. Even though she is young amongst us, she already thinks like elder Divinity. Allasaria is loved amongst humanity too, for wherever the Goddess of Light, any qualms kneel as they receive their benediction. She is powerful as well, easily surpassing most Divines. And she is all too willing.

  When looking at the situation as a pure comparison of values, if we had to assign amounts to the potential and acceptability to each Divine, then Allasaria would get a perfect score. And thus, Allasaria is lacking. It would be easy to mould her the perfect example of what Divinity should be. Yet still, she would be lacking.

  Allasaria has never been shattered. Whereas the two of us in unison would no doubt score great success, the duo would be unproductive in the future. With Paramethus, I worked on a dual project for the two of us already pushed the balance too far. Anyone joining to make the duo into a trio feared the ostracization brought on by such power. Allasaria fears it most of all.

  Her passion is framed by compromise, her ideals are tempered by morality. Her intelligence and strength buckle underneath her wants and ideals. She seemingly wants for everything whilst demanding nothing. She talks of grandiosity whilst presenting reality because the two concepts are mutually exclusive in her mind. She is so pure and so selfless that they reveal her self-sacrificial character. It is when pressed there that the shepherd-Goddess truly cracks.

  Fundamentally, Allasaria is a creature of this world that denies herself constantly. This denial gives her the strength to continue, yet this denial is because she, and only she, is strong enough to singlehandedly bear the world’s evils. When Oblivion comes to Arda, I am certain Allasaria will stand tall to stop it. And I am sure that she will consider the battle lost the moment she alone cannot stop it. Her followers are much the same. For they are chosen and chosen alone.

  The reason I speak plainly is so all hear my message; complex verbosity inundated throughout argumentation benefits one’s own master-complex. Allasaria is the pinnacle of this master complex. The world is hers to save, hers to guide, hers to shepherd into the future. The leash she will create will be so pleasant that many will not realise it tugs on their necks. Humanity is to be guided by Divinity, Divinity is to be guided by greater Divinity, the greatest Divinity is to be guided by Allasaria.

  Caring and gentle, with a hand here and a stroke there, with a kiss on the cheek and with praise, but guided nonetheless. The idea of family for her is not to set a standard. It is to claim the title as Mother of Divinity for her children cannot exist without her.

  She believes in herself, she does not believe in the strength of this world. In a way, Allasaria is a mirror to myself. Nevertheless, the difference is simple.

  The proposition is my idea under my implementation. It is not hers to adapt into her ideals. Her initial agreement was swift because she sees the issues and because she is unable of fundamentally giving others the strength to use for themselves. To abandon the flock is to fail as a shepherd.

  And now that some time has passed, I am certain the decision was correct. Allasaria knows of my plans and my ambitions, she has expressed interest in aiding them, and when left alone, she does nothing to try solve these problems. Allasaria betrays herself. Of all sins, that is the greatest. And, of all sins, it is one I am unable of forgiving.

  Thus, Allasaria is lacking.

  - Excerpt from the private writings of God Arascus, of Pride. Written near the end of the Reconstruction Era, before Arascus approached Goddess Irinika, of Darkness and accepted her as a daughter.

  Four hours, thirty-two minutes had passed. Four hours, thirty-two minutes and they had lost another truck. At first, Olonia had thought the greatest issue would be vehicles getting stuck in the material. That was true but with Tanit here, she could easily pull up sand to dislodge anything that refused to move. What she could not dislodge was the ash. Whereas the engines had been fitted with sand-filters, fine particles could still get in. The engine that carried the team by Olonia’s side was already beginning to stammer. She sped up to reach the crest of the next dune before the vehicles got there. In terrain like this, she needed to be the forward scout and see whether they were going to be marching into a battle.

  The huge Archdemon had been too fast to even bother following. In a single step, it crossed a half-mile. In two, it had already covered a distance that spanned the entire length of the One-Seventeenth. In ten, it was disappearing into the horizon, just a general shape obscured by the permanent fog in this land. Olonia had not even bothered to follow it. It would have been difficult to catch up on a perfect highway.

  So she had changed plans and instead the One-Seventeenth was stalking the… Whatever it was, they had finally caught up to it. The huge structure or temple or… Honestly, Olonia had no clue. It was some great plate, easily as large as the biggest market square in Lubska and surrounded by an array of gemstones. Although to call such things gemstones would be discrediting them, they were more akin to giant burning pyres of crystal from which flames up to the sky. They twisted and faced outwards, giving the sky around it an orange glow. Olonia could not make out whatever was on the centre of that grey stone platform, but whatever it was, ash soared up from within.

  A portal maybe? Maybe some birthing chamber? Iliyal had said that last time, ashen skies stretched from Tartarian gates and from huge bulbous demons that would produce it from spires on their backs. This obviously was not a huge bulbous demon. In fact, Olonia doubted it was a demon at all. At the front, slowly marching north, was a herd of giant bald bulls, their skin a deep red, their horns curved. Maybe a thousand of them, maybe more. Each one was as a large as a car easily, on their backs were the same sort of contraptions that farmers would use on horse-drawn ploughs, yet scaled up to fit a dozens of the creatures. More demons walked around the main structure.

  As Olonia adjusted her eyes, she could see there were demons marching on it too. Some in armour, some without. Some with things that looked like rifles, others just with cleavers. Well, whatever it was, it had to be important. Olonia stood on the crest of what once was a huge sand-dune, now a rolling hill of ash as more of the material fell around her, too stunned to even think about taking cover. Tanit finally caught up to her.

  “What is that?” Tanit asked dryly.

  “I don’t know.” Olonia answered and the Goddess of Ibya just sighed.

  “Plan then?”

  “I don’t know.” Olonia replied in the same manner. The men were behind them. Captains Henek and Gustlik were catching up to the Goddesses.

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  “The men can’t keep marching forever.” Tanit said. “And neither can I.”

  “Are you giving up?” Olonia asked, the crystals pulsated. The ash came on thicker and higher for a moment. Some generator maybe? The air was considerably warmer here than elsewhere. Maybe it was some machine to terraform Arda into Tartarus?

  “I’m not. I just don’t care.” Tanit said. “I’m a dead woman walking. Get on with it. Are we attacking?”

  “Do you want to?” Olonia asked. She knew she shouldn’t but now that she saw the scale that Tartarus was working at… There had to be at least ten thousand demons there. Maybe fifteen thousand. How many more inside the structure? And those bulls at the front? Could they be released? Each one looked as if it would require a tank shell to stop.

  “I have no opinion.” Tanit said. “Give the order.”

  “Very well.” Tanit, somewhere, was correct. The risk of discovery was always present here, but if they were lucky, then it would not come. The risk of running out of water was approaching, of energy was approaching even faster and of fuel for the vehicles was almost imminent. Driving through this heavy ash was doing a massacre on their reserves. “Get on the ground. How many can you take?”

  “I don’t know.” Tanit said. “But as many as I can.”

  “If there’s a prince, then flee underground.” Olonia said.

  “And do what down there?”

  “Go North and tell them about this.”

  “And you?” Tanit asked. Olonia finally ripped her eyes away. Iliyal had cursed her when he sent her with these men. If it was just her and Tanit, then they could be fast and stealthy and not have two thousand souls at stake.

  “What would you do?” Olonia asked.

  “I understand.” Tanit replied. “So?”

  Captains Henek and Gustlik finally got close enough to see over the crest of the hill. They stared at that huge moving fortress and then they went to Olonia. Neither of them had fear nor excitement in their eyes. At this point, it was just resignation. “Your Orders, Goddess?”

  “Make a line on the crest. We’ll mount an attack.”

  “Understood.” Both Captains got to work. The rear of the unit took thirty minutes to catch up. That huge structure moved maybe half a mile north. Demons kept on marching around it, although either they had bad eyesight or they thought that Olonia was a friendly force. Frankly, that second one sounded plausible to Olonia. If they were in this situation, why would they think that the enemy had gotten into their lands?

  The One-Seventeenth took a minute to dig in. There was no point making trenches too deep against an enemy that primarily relieved on swords. The trucks were turned around, the bikes too. Ash started to pile around them. Tanit would need to give everything a kick with her power to get it moving again. Olonia got her rifle. She returned silently to her the middle of the battle line.

  No speech would be given. No speech was enough. No one would bother anyway. Speeches were for rallying for battle for those who needed hope. Yet there came a point where hopelessness became a motivator for itself. There was no point in giving up. A death at the edge of a cleaver seemed more acceptable at this point than a death to starvation or dehydration. Once the batteries ran out, they would be in total darkness under the veil of ashen skies. Why bother retreating? Where to? What for?

  Olonia took aim. She hoped the scope was well-calibrated. It was the Empire, it had to be well calibrated. She couldn’t test it at this point anyway. The gun was as long as she was tall, it needed a bipod the size of a man’s legs and even then it sunk into the soft ground. Tanit raised it back through moving the sand underneath ash without being asked to. Olonia didn’t bother telling her off. There was no point. She gave this tainted atmosphere once last taint as she breathed in.

  Olonia held her breath, tensed her core, prepared for the pushback from the gun and looked through the scope one last time. That gemstone was so large that it could probably be shot at from the hip. The other men raised their rifles. Time seemed to slow down. A demon turned its legs. It raised binoculars to where the One-Seventeenth was. The Goddess of Lubska did not even give an update.

  Olonia reached forwards, she pulled back the bolt. Twisted. Pushed it forward. One final little smile. That sound was always enjoyable.

  Olonia pulled the trigger.

  Her rifle bounced with the recoil of a small cannon. If she had not been tensing, it would have dislocated her shoulder. The padding material on the stock little to stop absorb the impact. A bruise would be left no doubt, but a bruise would heal quickly.

  A shell designed to strike through tank armour whistled through the air, the trail of clean air it left behind could be seen visibly by the naked eye. So much for stealth. Demons turned their heads as they looked up. That herd of pulls stopped. The entire world fell silent as everyone looked at that gemstone. Even ashen skies above seemed to stop moving as Olonia just stared.

  For a single moment, nothing happened.

  Everyone turned to the impact sight. A crack in the blazing crystal formed. Fire spewed out of it. Olonia heard them shout some curse. Some began running close to it. Others dropped their weapons and began to flee as far away as possible. Olonia had seen men in the Epan War react to the same way when a dud or a grenade landed nearby. That was almost predictable.

  “BRACE!” The word left her mouth and brought life back to the unit. Immediately, orders were being shouted out. The sound of bullets entering chambers echoed over itself.

  And then, everything happened.

  The fires on that gemstone turned from their crimson into a devouring purple. A crack made a spiderweb upon the crystal as if it was glass being painted by the shatter of lightning. The other gemstones began to roar and immediately turned as bright as suns. The desert was lit up by a dozen small suns on the ground. Demons roared and screamed. Some dove down onto the ground. The herd at the front broke free from its shackles and raced forwards. Whips sounded through the air, unsuccessful at controlling their cattle. Devils and succubi soared into the air. Others raised their hands towards the gemstones. Orange flames burst out around it. Flames that hugged and caressed rather than burned. Flames that melted and forced the cracks back, as if they was a piece of steel being reforged in the flames.

  Olonia felt that sudden spark of life from her shout burn itself out within her as she realised they had merely caused them a setback and not a crisis. The men on either side collapsed, their shoulders fell. They held their aim. A few began to mutter prayers.

  Olonia silently chambered another round.

  She turned to the next crystal.

  She pulled the trigger.

  And in this moment, everything happened.

  One crystal had been contained. Two caused a chain reaction. It was once again smothered by a spiderweb of cracks. Its fires turned into that sickly purple as if it was burning itself away. Demons screamed. Some began to charge up the dune at the One-Seventeenth. And behind them, whatever that gemstone shattered into countless tiny slivers. Another did. Purple flames raced from around it the entire structure. Demons screamed out as their own fires caught up to them. The ones in the air let go of whatever magic they were using. They flew away. Not at Olonia’s unit, but just away from their holding. Winds began to blow, outwards for a moment, and then forwards. Sand hidden underneath feet of ash was revealed once again as the implosion of energy could it back. Trucks slid around the ground. The men braced, coats and hair whipped in the wind. The parked bikes fell over. The herd raced.

  A demon without wings was lifted off the ground and thrown backwards. That stone platform began to shatter. Fires burst out from within it. Explosions of magma, whether from storage or the rock itself being melted, Olonia did not know. She gripped her rifle and dug one hand in as her white hair suddenly blew backwards again as her eyes grew wide.

  Ahead of her was a mountain of a firestorm that rose and rose until it reached the height of the ash clouds themselves. It lapped at them like a thirsty dog. It lapped and drank and it arced even higher. It discoloured the grey world around them, burning so strongly that even the fog became tinted with an orange haze. Olonia allowed herself the smile as the flames burned themselves out. That pillar of ash pouring from within was missing. If they were lucky, they would have bought Epa another day before a replacement was brought in. Maybe they had done nothing but showed Tartarus it was not invincible. Either way, it was a victory in her mind. Two thousand men for ten thousand? That was a fair-trade. The One-Seventeenth stared at ring of charred ground. The ash had been blown away, the sand had been melted to a dirty black glass.

  “Olonia.” Tanit whispered in awe. “Look up.” Olonia looked up at the sky.

  A horrid mass of grey and black and white that were mixed without rhyme or reason. So meaningless it coagulated into a shapeless curtain that swept over the entire curtain. It had been slowly meandering outwards, north and east and west as more of the material was funnelled into Arda’s atmosphere.

  A horrid mass that threatened to choke the life out of this planet.

  A horrid mass that had stopped moving finally.

  A horrid mass that was beginning to fall.

  And a horrid mass through which a ray of sunlight had managed to breach through.

  Olonia heard her men cheer.