Snippet #2675167

Within the great hall of Oelne, several Aea, including the demigod Nakritos and demigoddess Aeqhelis, stood arrayed in stars and clouds upon their raiments within the hidden domain of Oelne. They awaited the commencement of their lordship's council. Anxiety overwhelmed them, but not the kind of anxiety that mortals felt. Theirs was a more acute and profound anxiety that

With his sceptre in hand, Nakritios spoke, "What is the reason that Oelne has summoned us?"

Little glowing ringlets marked Nakritios arms, arms that he never covered. No one remembered when they first appeared, but while his brothers and sisters covered these strange markings beneath their robes, he chose not to.

Then, the aforementioned Aea appeared before his siblings, his radiance dimmed after so many years. Though, dimmed would not quite describe the manifestation of the darkness that had been corrupting him ever since the First War. The same darkness that Aeqhelis and Nakritios had so long been blind to for it had taken to them as well.

Oelne took his seat on his throne, "Molos has returned."

"What?" murmurs breached the crowd, their visages bore nothing less than dread. A few mouths opened with silence puncturing the heavied air.

"Can we be certain?"

"What are his intentions?"

"It matters not his intentions, we must seize the initiative and destroy him."

A cacophony of voices poured from his brothers and sisters, their words seemed threatened and fearful. Their faces ablaze with emotions, but not Oelne.

"You seem worried, oh one on high," Aeqhelis spoke, she stood leaning against a column as she always did when she kept to herself apart from the rest.

She strode over to where her brothers and sisters gathered at the center of the hall.

"We do not need another war in the heavens," Oelne turned his gaze upon her.

"Yet you are prepared for it, and quite predisposed to it," Aeqhelis turned her golden brow to her brother Nakritios, "Tell our brothers and sisters of the army that you have been amassing. Tell them of our minions that are prepared to wage war on all the mortal lives that dwell below."

An uncomfortable silence bathed the hall in which the demigods stood, while their eyes lanced upon Oelne.

"After having fled to lick his wounds after his ingracious defeat, the usurper returns to try once more to disrupt the balance of eternity. He seeks to rectify a supposed injustice, one that we the chosen, had borne against him."

Nakritios spoke, for they judged his counsel worthy of hearing, "To be prepared for war is the most effective means of preserving peace."

"Indeed," Oelne seconded, "The time has come to begin anew."

Oelne inhaled and then spoke, "It has been nine thousand years since we witnessed ourselves quartered and drawn in strife against our brothers and sisters. If that be the price to pay, then through the loss of mortal lives we shall pay it," his voice sounded deep and rich like a cresting wave.

Oelne then gestured with his hand, "Qahriel."

The Aea known as Qahriel stepped forth from the crowd.

He fell to one knee, head down, "Yes milord."

"The time has come, go forth with your servants to awaken the Sleepers."

Qahriel bowed and replied with his reservation, "Your grace, what of Tiamniel and Jehael?"

"Worry not about them, they can not do much against us."

Qahriel accepted that answer and led a few other Aea. They pushed open the giant doors that closed off Oelne's hall.

Energy poured forth in the form of wings erupting from their backs. The effervescent energy glowed white. With a single cohesive beat, they rose up and they transitioned from their rising arc into a dive through the clouds below. The other Aea watched as their forms slowly and softly shrunk until they could no longer be seen.