D A E M O N
Daemon watched as each of them approached one of the artifacts that he had spent months, even years forging. He walked up to Adrian as he began donning a set of armor. His eyes were critical as he examined the armor and how it melded to Adrian’s form. Unlike what he currently wore, it was not a prison but an instrument meant to protect and defend. It would serve the Kathar well, he imagined. He did not have a working knowledge of what was contained within each of the artifacts locked away in this sanctuary. He merely knew they were there and that they could be useful. The piece of himself that possessed the full scope of what had gone into the creation of each artifact was no longer part of him. At least, not until he could be reunited with that aspect of himself. He looked skyward and to the dark that lingered at the edges of the sky. He hoped that Talon was safe.
As Marcel inspected his armor, Daemon watched quietly and without comment then moved on to Florian. He nodded to the young demigod of Rebellion. He looked to Aoren who had been remaining close to his side the whole time. The man was wearing the Skyforge Raiment that had become his typical battledress. It suited him. The black, silver and grey tones of the attire made the red of both his hair and his eyes stand out. Aoren met his gaze, his own eyes intense and searching.
“Will you choose something?” Daemon asked softly. Aoren shook his head. He touched a hand to his chest.
“I am wearing what I need already.” Aoren reached out, taking his hand. “I cannot feel you across the Bond. Is that because of this?”
Feeling Aoren’s hand upon the breast of his--the--armor, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He did not want his husband near it but he had no choice. He was lacking so many choices it hurt. He shook his head but offered nothing further. Aoren did not miss that but before his husband could question further, he shook his head again. He did not want to put too much thought into it. He was already thinking on it too much. Seemingly catching his intent, Aoren’s eyes burned a little deeper but he nodded.
“You will need to meditate and attune to each of the artifacts that you have chosen.Once you have done so, the powers of each of them will be accessible to you. We will stay here, in this sanctuary until first light in the morning.” He did not want to chance them not having enough time to attune to each of their selected artifacts. There was also something else that he needed to address. He turned to Aoren, glancing at the two Kathar. Catching his meaning, his husband nodded and went to assist both Adrian and Marcel with getting accustomed to their newfound armor. Daemon turned to Florian, studying him from head to toe for a moment. However, he did more than just look at him physically. He expanded his senses and examined him from an aethereal perspective. He did not need to use his Semblance in order to study him. He could see the aura of another demigod unmasked just fine. It was not as vast as his own but it had the makings of something greater.
“Come. You and I have something else to discuss.” He waited to see if Florian would follow him to the northern most edge of the sanctuary so that they could stare out over the mountain range. There, he stood, examining the horizon.
“I do not know fully what waits for us in the bowels of Mount Kaladon. Many things, most likely. I am not at my full strength. Gods, I am not even at half of my strength.” He shook his head, disgusted with his own weakness for a brief moment but he brushed it off. It was frustration born of imprisonment, of being broken, of being…too many things.
“Neither are you.” He turned his silver eyes upon Florian, gaze roaming over his aura. “You have declared your domain as a Demigod but you have not truly claimed it.”
He turned his head back to the horizon, nodding for Florian to look.
“Look to the horizon. Think on what you see. I can tell you what I see.” At the very edge, he could see what every higher being did. He saw the line between the Veil and the material realm. He saw the divide between the Planes of Existence that ultimately kept them all safe from the perfect savagery that was the catastrophic and uniform chaos of the Aetherium. Most prominently, he could see the rippling echoes of everything that was his to claim across every aspect of the Aetherium. He was Justice Incarnate. He was Light Incarnate and…he was something else. But that final aspect of himself he had separated from the whole of his being in order to protect it. In many ways, it was the most powerful aspect of himself because it encompassed so much and touched upon so many things for both good and ill.
“To be a god is to be more than just a claimant to an Idea. You are that Idea. You are the physical, mental, spiritual and Aethereal manifestation of it. In you and through you, that Idea is made more prominent across not simply this but all aspects of every reality. It does not die in your absence but it can fade in importance.” He thought briefly on how in his absence the ideas of Justice, Light and Hope had faded for so many. He would have to set that right, in time.
“However, you are not a full god. You are a Demigod. Many would assume that makes us lesser but in many ways, it makes us far greater.” He raised hand, extending a finger to point at the line on the edge of the horizon. As he did so, his aura shifted and manifested his nimbus. Again, it seemed…incomplete. Subdued. Diminished. One of the symbols in his nimbus drifted forward. To look upon it the concept of Justice immediately struck one’s mind. There were other things woven into it however. To see it was to also see Retribution. There were undercurrent of Fury. There were hints of Grief. There were pieces that seemed to whisper at Yearning, Desire and even Wrath. On the further edges of its concept were even the shadows of Vengeance itself.
“To be a Demigod means that we stand between the bridge of the Aetherium and the Mortal Realms. We have less power in the Aetherium than the Greater Gods but we have far more agency in expressing what our Domains mean. We are half-mortal and mortals were made to be the epitome of freedom in expression. To be mortal is to be the greatest treasure that this universe has to offer. Gods are given their meaning. Mortals find their own.” He let that settle before he pressed on. It had been a long time since he had revisited these topics. They were the fundamental principles that he had learned both about himself and others when he had traveled with Raxen all those centuries ago. The memories were on the edges of his thoughts and while he pushed some of them away, he held onto the ones that mattered at the moment.
“It is why our portfolios can shift as we mature in our understanding of both ourselves and our divinity.” He reached out, letting the symbol of Justice float in the palm of his hand.
“I am Justice Incarnate. It is not merely what I believe it is who I am. Whether other gods or mortals make mockery or dismiss that, it is true. Justice both defines me and is defined by me.” He released the symbol and it returned to drifting near his head. He brought forth the other symbol. This one shone brightly and had hints of the rose-gold that came with the Dawn. He let it drift in front of them. It evoked concepts of Light, the Sun, Revelation, Harshness, Warmth, Unyielding and Relentlessness.
“I am Light Incarnate. I am the Lightbringer. Where I go, so too is the Light brought. Sometimes that can be for great good. Sometimes it can be harsh and cause harm but it is both who I am and who I choose to be. Whether other gods or mortals acknowledge it or not, it is true because across the Aetherium, in every aspect of reality, the Light is mine. I define it. It defines me.” He released the symbol and it returned to its place to form what should have been a complete crown about his head.
“You are Rebellion, Florian. Rebellion is you. You must define it and you must seek its definition. In this realm and in the Aetherium.” He pointed to the thin line that always lingered on the horizon for higher beings. “Go beyond the edge. Find the Idea that has been given to you. Then give the Idea the meaning you wish for it to have. Become Rebellion Incarnate. Abandon the idea that others will shape the Idea for you. You will learn from others. You will experience many things but ultimately, you will determine what Rebellion means. No one else. For there is no other power that can. Only you.”
He gave Florian’s shoulder a squeeze before stepping away to find a place where he could meditate himself. Only Florian would be able to step beyond the realm of the physical and find the flow of the Aetherium that linked to Rebellion. It was his and only his. Daemon saw a need to help the young demigod embrace it more fully so that he could not only understand it, but command it as well. It was not an easy thing to grasp that as a god, one had dominion over so vast a concept that it applied to not just the Here and Now but Always. Whether that was in the Past, Present or Future, it did not matter. It was the purview of that Divine until such time as that Divine no longer existed which was, as far as he knew, not something that had ever happened in all of Ransera’s history. Gods, even Demigods, did not die in the way that mortals did.
----
First light came. Daemon opened his eyes. He had not truly slept. He could not. There were far too many things on his mind but nevertheless, he felt rested enough. His back was against the tree at the center of the pond. Resting with his head in his lap, was Aoren. Daemon, who was in truth, more Arcas than Talon, brushed his fingers through the man’s hair. As Aoren slept peacefully, he could see and understand even as an observer, why Talon had fallen in love with him. There was a nobility in his profile that emanated from every fiber of his being even at rest.
It reminded him of Raxen.
That thought made him smile. It should not have surprised him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Aoren’s brow. The motion made the Kathar stir and he felt fingers entwine themselves in his hair. Aoren tilted his head and their lips met, the kiss deepening. When they parted, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments of silence.
“I still keep thinking this is a dream.” Daemon grasped one of Aoren’s hands and brushed his lips over the palm.
“It is not.” Together the two of them slowly rose and went to rouse the others. In short order, they had built a small fire. Cooked a light breakfast and with the shadow of the eclipse hanging overhead, Daemon stepped up to the edge of the Sanctuary once they were all ready.
“There is no going back after this.” He let that statement linger in the air then he reached into the recesses of his memory. He sifted through the fog of time. For him, it had not been all that long ago but it still took a moment to recall. He remembered the battle. He remembered the blazing scion of Sol’Avaerys and the shrouded mistress that followed him. Slowly he aligned the spatial pathways across the Slipspace, pouring aether into the space in front of him. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he remembered that ancient site where he had placed that Seal so many ages ago. The air twisted and warped as a spiral of power formed until it split open to become a portal.
Daemon stepped through. He did not need to look behind him to see who followed. He could feel Aoren beside him. If Florian changed his mind…well…he hoped that he did not.
On the other side of the portal rose a mountain. Time had weathered some of its facets but he recognized it well enough. Thrumming across its and within it he could feel the power of ancient magic. Magic that reached out to him. Magic that resonated with him.
Because it was his. The ancient weavings of Archmagic put into the form of a Divine Seal that he had laid down millennia ago. A seal he had placed when he was at his full might. Faced with it, he was faced with just how starkly disempowered he truly was. Once he had been able to topple empires. Now he was a prisoner to one. Daemon, Arcas, looked upon the mountain.
“Kaladon.”
As Marcel inspected his armor, Daemon watched quietly and without comment then moved on to Florian. He nodded to the young demigod of Rebellion. He looked to Aoren who had been remaining close to his side the whole time. The man was wearing the Skyforge Raiment that had become his typical battledress. It suited him. The black, silver and grey tones of the attire made the red of both his hair and his eyes stand out. Aoren met his gaze, his own eyes intense and searching.
“Will you choose something?” Daemon asked softly. Aoren shook his head. He touched a hand to his chest.
“I am wearing what I need already.” Aoren reached out, taking his hand. “I cannot feel you across the Bond. Is that because of this?”
Feeling Aoren’s hand upon the breast of his--the--armor, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He did not want his husband near it but he had no choice. He was lacking so many choices it hurt. He shook his head but offered nothing further. Aoren did not miss that but before his husband could question further, he shook his head again. He did not want to put too much thought into it. He was already thinking on it too much. Seemingly catching his intent, Aoren’s eyes burned a little deeper but he nodded.
“You will need to meditate and attune to each of the artifacts that you have chosen.Once you have done so, the powers of each of them will be accessible to you. We will stay here, in this sanctuary until first light in the morning.” He did not want to chance them not having enough time to attune to each of their selected artifacts. There was also something else that he needed to address. He turned to Aoren, glancing at the two Kathar. Catching his meaning, his husband nodded and went to assist both Adrian and Marcel with getting accustomed to their newfound armor. Daemon turned to Florian, studying him from head to toe for a moment. However, he did more than just look at him physically. He expanded his senses and examined him from an aethereal perspective. He did not need to use his Semblance in order to study him. He could see the aura of another demigod unmasked just fine. It was not as vast as his own but it had the makings of something greater.
“Come. You and I have something else to discuss.” He waited to see if Florian would follow him to the northern most edge of the sanctuary so that they could stare out over the mountain range. There, he stood, examining the horizon.
“I do not know fully what waits for us in the bowels of Mount Kaladon. Many things, most likely. I am not at my full strength. Gods, I am not even at half of my strength.” He shook his head, disgusted with his own weakness for a brief moment but he brushed it off. It was frustration born of imprisonment, of being broken, of being…too many things.
“Neither are you.” He turned his silver eyes upon Florian, gaze roaming over his aura. “You have declared your domain as a Demigod but you have not truly claimed it.”
He turned his head back to the horizon, nodding for Florian to look.
“Look to the horizon. Think on what you see. I can tell you what I see.” At the very edge, he could see what every higher being did. He saw the line between the Veil and the material realm. He saw the divide between the Planes of Existence that ultimately kept them all safe from the perfect savagery that was the catastrophic and uniform chaos of the Aetherium. Most prominently, he could see the rippling echoes of everything that was his to claim across every aspect of the Aetherium. He was Justice Incarnate. He was Light Incarnate and…he was something else. But that final aspect of himself he had separated from the whole of his being in order to protect it. In many ways, it was the most powerful aspect of himself because it encompassed so much and touched upon so many things for both good and ill.
“To be a god is to be more than just a claimant to an Idea. You are that Idea. You are the physical, mental, spiritual and Aethereal manifestation of it. In you and through you, that Idea is made more prominent across not simply this but all aspects of every reality. It does not die in your absence but it can fade in importance.” He thought briefly on how in his absence the ideas of Justice, Light and Hope had faded for so many. He would have to set that right, in time.
“However, you are not a full god. You are a Demigod. Many would assume that makes us lesser but in many ways, it makes us far greater.” He raised hand, extending a finger to point at the line on the edge of the horizon. As he did so, his aura shifted and manifested his nimbus. Again, it seemed…incomplete. Subdued. Diminished. One of the symbols in his nimbus drifted forward. To look upon it the concept of Justice immediately struck one’s mind. There were other things woven into it however. To see it was to also see Retribution. There were undercurrent of Fury. There were hints of Grief. There were pieces that seemed to whisper at Yearning, Desire and even Wrath. On the further edges of its concept were even the shadows of Vengeance itself.
“To be a Demigod means that we stand between the bridge of the Aetherium and the Mortal Realms. We have less power in the Aetherium than the Greater Gods but we have far more agency in expressing what our Domains mean. We are half-mortal and mortals were made to be the epitome of freedom in expression. To be mortal is to be the greatest treasure that this universe has to offer. Gods are given their meaning. Mortals find their own.” He let that settle before he pressed on. It had been a long time since he had revisited these topics. They were the fundamental principles that he had learned both about himself and others when he had traveled with Raxen all those centuries ago. The memories were on the edges of his thoughts and while he pushed some of them away, he held onto the ones that mattered at the moment.
“It is why our portfolios can shift as we mature in our understanding of both ourselves and our divinity.” He reached out, letting the symbol of Justice float in the palm of his hand.
“I am Justice Incarnate. It is not merely what I believe it is who I am. Whether other gods or mortals make mockery or dismiss that, it is true. Justice both defines me and is defined by me.” He released the symbol and it returned to drifting near his head. He brought forth the other symbol. This one shone brightly and had hints of the rose-gold that came with the Dawn. He let it drift in front of them. It evoked concepts of Light, the Sun, Revelation, Harshness, Warmth, Unyielding and Relentlessness.
“I am Light Incarnate. I am the Lightbringer. Where I go, so too is the Light brought. Sometimes that can be for great good. Sometimes it can be harsh and cause harm but it is both who I am and who I choose to be. Whether other gods or mortals acknowledge it or not, it is true because across the Aetherium, in every aspect of reality, the Light is mine. I define it. It defines me.” He released the symbol and it returned to its place to form what should have been a complete crown about his head.
“You are Rebellion, Florian. Rebellion is you. You must define it and you must seek its definition. In this realm and in the Aetherium.” He pointed to the thin line that always lingered on the horizon for higher beings. “Go beyond the edge. Find the Idea that has been given to you. Then give the Idea the meaning you wish for it to have. Become Rebellion Incarnate. Abandon the idea that others will shape the Idea for you. You will learn from others. You will experience many things but ultimately, you will determine what Rebellion means. No one else. For there is no other power that can. Only you.”
He gave Florian’s shoulder a squeeze before stepping away to find a place where he could meditate himself. Only Florian would be able to step beyond the realm of the physical and find the flow of the Aetherium that linked to Rebellion. It was his and only his. Daemon saw a need to help the young demigod embrace it more fully so that he could not only understand it, but command it as well. It was not an easy thing to grasp that as a god, one had dominion over so vast a concept that it applied to not just the Here and Now but Always. Whether that was in the Past, Present or Future, it did not matter. It was the purview of that Divine until such time as that Divine no longer existed which was, as far as he knew, not something that had ever happened in all of Ransera’s history. Gods, even Demigods, did not die in the way that mortals did.
----
First light came. Daemon opened his eyes. He had not truly slept. He could not. There were far too many things on his mind but nevertheless, he felt rested enough. His back was against the tree at the center of the pond. Resting with his head in his lap, was Aoren. Daemon, who was in truth, more Arcas than Talon, brushed his fingers through the man’s hair. As Aoren slept peacefully, he could see and understand even as an observer, why Talon had fallen in love with him. There was a nobility in his profile that emanated from every fiber of his being even at rest.
It reminded him of Raxen.
That thought made him smile. It should not have surprised him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Aoren’s brow. The motion made the Kathar stir and he felt fingers entwine themselves in his hair. Aoren tilted his head and their lips met, the kiss deepening. When they parted, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments of silence.
“I still keep thinking this is a dream.” Daemon grasped one of Aoren’s hands and brushed his lips over the palm.
“It is not.” Together the two of them slowly rose and went to rouse the others. In short order, they had built a small fire. Cooked a light breakfast and with the shadow of the eclipse hanging overhead, Daemon stepped up to the edge of the Sanctuary once they were all ready.
“There is no going back after this.” He let that statement linger in the air then he reached into the recesses of his memory. He sifted through the fog of time. For him, it had not been all that long ago but it still took a moment to recall. He remembered the battle. He remembered the blazing scion of Sol’Avaerys and the shrouded mistress that followed him. Slowly he aligned the spatial pathways across the Slipspace, pouring aether into the space in front of him. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he remembered that ancient site where he had placed that Seal so many ages ago. The air twisted and warped as a spiral of power formed until it split open to become a portal.
Daemon stepped through. He did not need to look behind him to see who followed. He could feel Aoren beside him. If Florian changed his mind…well…he hoped that he did not.
On the other side of the portal rose a mountain. Time had weathered some of its facets but he recognized it well enough. Thrumming across its and within it he could feel the power of ancient magic. Magic that reached out to him. Magic that resonated with him.
Because it was his. The ancient weavings of Archmagic put into the form of a Divine Seal that he had laid down millennia ago. A seal he had placed when he was at his full might. Faced with it, he was faced with just how starkly disempowered he truly was. Once he had been able to topple empires. Now he was a prisoner to one. Daemon, Arcas, looked upon the mountain.
“Kaladon.”
