7

Miniature mountains and rivers made of wood were laid out before Alistair; his silver eyes criticizing each inch of the land depicted below. Carved from a single branch of the now-dead World Tree, the table spanned nearly thirty-feet long and almost ten wide. That was not to say that had been the entire branch itself. No, it was only one-thirtieth of the branch Alistair had pulled with them during their defeat at the Highland Cliffs five-hundred years ago.

The rest had gone to framing his castle within the Capital, in which he was in now. Even then, there had been enough odd pieces to be used for little things. Such as candle holders that could not be burnt by normal fire. Hilts for swords and even several shields had been made from the cuttings. Each of national-grade quality. Most stayed in the castle, surrounded by thousands of Paladins and loyal believers.

The World tree, withered and just a black husk that stood half its height on the Highland's Cliffs, was the home of the old Goddess of Light - Maddin.

While Maddin had not been a troublemaker like Hades had been, she sheltered the High-Elves in her city. And under the combined might of the Four Races, their armies had laid siege to her ill-prepared city within a day. Dwarves, Humans, Beastmen, and even their lowly cousins, Fallen ones - now officially called Elves - assaulted her city. Alistair, a budding youth with one step into Godhood, had led the charge.

It had not been a battle, but more a massacre. One he had come to regret later on in life. He never truly understood that wonderful woman; though he thought her a stupid wench then. Blinded with hate for the High Elves, he was too young to understand the cycles of war and loss. He had been arrogant from his consecutive wins against their oppressors. And on that day, was when his suffering truly began.

His finger traced the grain, hoping that it'd speak to him, but a dead magical tree was still dead. Its soul was long gone, but its magic still there.

Had he been wiser, he would have seen how that Goddess of Light had truly kept the horrors away from them. It wasn't under he had felled her on the World Tree did he understand. Maddin, The Flower of Love and Light, may have been neutral in all accounts. But she was never still. She had kept the demons and Devils away. She had kept the living on the ground, and the dead in it.

After she had died, the demons came in full force for the First World War. The Four Races against the monsters of the north. Serfs and lowly-nobles speak of this war as if it were a win. It had not. Alistair had been humbled in this war. A war that had razed the very ground they had walked. The demons would haven't wiped them all from existence if they had not slithered back to their forsaken lands. No one knew why they had.

Only two things had been discovered, and how the land had gained its name. The Forbidden Forest had been untouched in their rage. The second had been that Maddin was actually Hades's wife. It had only been discovered when a Devil had brought them a declaration of war, though ironically, marking the start Silent War.

A war that raged violently in Death Valley, unheard by the rest of the world. Where the Theocracy clashed with the demons daily.

Alistair leaned forward, his calloused hands circled with golden rings picked up a black piece of metal-tipped with a skull on top. He moved it across the carved map and placed it several inches away from a white metal totem tipped with a tower.

"The Demon Army gained forty miles of land in their push," Alistair reported it as if he were talking about the weather. "I managed to halt their advance, but I could not break through their main forces. Not until I gain more power."

Yes. The demons had invaded in the night, and Alistair had been nearly powerless against it. A million strong, fortified with Devils and nightmarish beasts. It had been unlike anything before the Silent War had begun. Rather, it was the reason for these dark memories resurfacing. It was an invasion, and that was not the end of his woes.

When he had returned to Angel's Respite, where their most elite fighters stood guard on a mile-long wall with bases all along its rear, he'd been greeted with news of the Haven's invading their largest port city. It had taken Alistair nearly an hour to reach it via magical leaps. And when he had gotten there, nothing but black walls and streets greeted him. The entire city had been burned. The attack had come while he had been busy in the north. Alistair removed a large hexagon coin, etched and inlaid with a golden ship next.

"Port Arthur no longer exists," Alistair reported as well. "Akyryss had not occupied the city. She instead burned it all. Men, women, and children; none were spared."

The coin was dropped into a small red-wood tray, padded with blue velvet. Alistair's silver eyes flicked up to the three people who sat dumbfounded by what their god had informed them off. They had gone to sleep in the most peaceful era known to the country. The next morning, they had woken up to total war at their distant gates. Only Alistair's general reacted quickly.

"I will rally all the arms within the country," General Caelian Green said weakly. "I will have them assemble here in the capital before we march up the highway."

If this were a normal meeting, and he'd been the one reporting it. He would have been pounding on the table and berating his subordinates for their slow work. However, he would never dare even touch the table, even when exceptionally beautiful maids had brought him a crystal goblet of fine wine. He was a large man in stature. Broad-shouldered, thickheaded, and a head full of thick brown hair.