Gloom Falls

Ilar Za'Darmondiel.

22nd of Quintetas, 1492.

Primary Lore Chamber, House Za'Darmondiel.

02:14.

***

I was not like my older sisters, who witnessed Telin's Intervention. I was not blinded by piety.

Webs were cast in my mind, to be sure, but not as strongly in the webs strewn about the minds of the Matrons and their Priestesses. I was pious about the arts. History. Magic. Music. Poems. Epic tales. Strange artifacts. Potions. Artificing, above all. I respected them much more than prayers or rituals, yet it was that respect that gave me a pass, unlike my sister, Mala.

In my love for history, I could learn of House Za'Darmondiel's past, interwoven with the Queen Demon Spider herself. Through the arts, I could weave tales of the Matron's triumphs into things as mundane as cloth, paper, and stone. Through my craft, I could give her priestesses the edge against their enemies. I could be used, in other words. In that way, I was free.

That was my belief for the past century. Only now did I begin to think otherwise. Dangerous though such a thing was.

While they were off in the temple doing whatever it was pious ones did, me, my children and many of those both attached and unattached to our web remained in the House. From on high, we gazed upon Selph reciting the tales of our past to this being foretold of in legend; A drow who held many similarities to our House. Strangely, however, he was not the most interesting aspect of the situation.

While many could overlook the nature of his companions, I could not, for I could see what he made of them. Like the tales of the recent human monks above, he made them into the pinnacle of their species. Thus the one playing an orchestra with but a single instrument was more than a mere halfling.

She played the entire time Selph spoke, yet listened to the infliction of Selph's voice rather than the tales of our history, filling the air with soundscapes even we haven't- or couldn't produce with our instruments; dreary yet powerful pieces that oft sent chills up my spine, or filled my soul with feelings I've never before experienced despite hearing these tales a thousand times.

Then there was the goblin- the most peculiar of them all. He stood taller than any dwarf, much less a goblin, being as tall as a short man, and with better proportions in his hands and feet than the rest of his kind. Like our goblin slaves, he was extremely well-groomed. His thick black hair was combed straight back between his ears, pierced with gold and silver rings. No warts or rashes could be seen on his dark, dull green skin, covered in a fine tunic with what appeared to be four skeletal fingers reaching under and over his arms from behind.

His appearance aside, he was strangely attentive, even asking questions requiring extensive answers as the lessons continued; much to Selph's chagrin and our amusement. Doubly so whenever the Lore Master got distracted by the massive creature of bone and fur accompanying him.

The human, on the other hand, caught perhaps the most eyes, including mine. Indeed, it was common across the realms for skillful hedge witches and wizards- the self-taught and unevolved- to be highly respected. Great risk came with using the sigils, glyphs, and words of power wizards spent their lives studying. Doubly so for those without the aid of an evolved spirit. To achieve such a feat and go on to brew potions with more potency or longer-lasting effects was remarkable, for an elf; for a human, it was incredible.

That, however, was decades ago. The latest news of him told a story of obsessive madness. Thus I assumed he was withering away somewhere above. I never would have believed he would appear on that fated day when Telin's Champion was to descend to these Falls, much less with the appearance of a child. A… 'teenager,' as the humans called it, with a skeletal arm shrouded, somehow, in adamantine and gold.

I needed to learn how his circumstances came about. Unfortunately, he spent the entire lecture standing on the wall with an alchemical lab as if he'd been blessed by the spider, brewing some eldritch concoction throughout the lesson.

I respected the craft enough to not interrupt an alchemist at work, so I distantly watched him imbue many unseen magical or sometimes divine ingredients into the cauldron; often causing the Lore Master to upturn his nose whenever the fumes wafted in his direction.

The ambiance, the brew, the Lore Master's story, and Amun's placid reaction to it made the four hours pass in a blur. I nearly descended into madness by trying to discern his reaction to our tale. All we saw, however, was placidity. A blank gaze that hardly blinked.

It was an unbelievable sight.

Ours was a story as old as time itself. A story of the Second Tree of Life, Youtera, giving birth to her first children. Triplets who were born at the same time. Like their distant relatives born from the other Trees of Life- the other Ascended Deities, they were capable of asexual reproduction.

The Weaving Mistress, Faenya, was born amidst Youtera's branches and thus used the weave to create her children: High Elves and Fae, and so she became the Goddess of Magic, High Elves, Wizards, and Fae.

The White Horn, Caelarin, was born amidst Youtera's trunk and thus used nature to create his children: Wild Elves- those of the Woods, Sea, Frost, Sky, and Desert, and so he became the God of Fertility, Harvest, Nature, and Wild Elves.

The Oracle of Fate, Lilith, was born amidst the darkness of Youtera's roots and thus used her body and mind alone to birth her first children, Dark Elves, and so she became the Goddess of Oracles, Fate, Change, and Dark Elves.

As it was before the Rending, the Youteran Gods lived in Youtera among their children just as the Gods of the other realms did. Unlike our predecessors, the Gods knew of and communicated with the denizens of those other realms regularly. And so, when eons passed and the Trees of Life had birthed countless weaker life forms- although not quite mortals- disagreements arose.

As Amun was doing here, in Zimysta, their presence caused reality to change in real-time; often in subtle ways, yet certainly in ways that upset the lives of many. So it was, some deities agreed to leave the Mortal Plane once and for all. Naturally, some opposed such lines of thinking.

The resulting war was but a petty squabble of a few battles, a few betrayals, and some unfortunate deaths in the eyes of the Gods. For those weaker life forms, however, it served as the end of civilization as they knew it. Amazonia's death was the biggest tragedy of the Rending in the eyes of many. Yet countless others were forced into and sealed within their divine realms, their Demigods, Proxies, and Champions banished and sealed across the realms.

That was the story for all who remembered the Rending, except us.

Drow remembered it as a time of betrayal.

Being the Goddess of Oracles, Fate, and Change, Lilith foresaw the impending chaos of the Rending in addition to glimpses of what came after. And so, she was the only Youteran deity willing to seal herself within her divine realm, hoping to preserve all they'd built. In turn, her siblings, Caelarin and Faenya, denied the proposition, citing they wished to be free as elves should be, but instead of warring with her or coming to an agreement, they deceived the three Sons of Lilith to act against her, bringing about a game of deception and cunning that resulted in Lilith's siblings sealing her within the Old Infernal Plane- what is now Nergal's Underworld- throughout the Rending.

Without Lilith's help, however, the elves and their outnumbered allies found themselves outmatched and soon sealed within the realms like the other deities, reduced to such a point where they could only influence the planes via the actions of their followers.

As for Lilith, her time amid demons caused her to lose the domains of Oracles and Change to that of Deception and Chaos. Thus resulting in us Drow being forsaken and banished to the Darkworld. Thus resulting in her direct descendants, House Za'Darmondiel, losing their connection with their divine ancestor, resulting in the cultural disdain for males among those loyal to Lilith, for it was they who betrayed their mother. The 1st son, who orchestrated. The 2nd son, who acted. The 3rd son, who murdered his 9th sister. Beings whose traitorous names were known only by the Matrons and their high priestesses.

Even through such a story, I was unable to tell how he felt about it. He held the same blank face he had since arriving throughout it. The only thing to be seen from his visage was a slow blink every few minutes. Once the tale was spun, he started smoking on a magical pipe while looking off into space as if he were in deep thought. Uncaring, even for the wave of energy sweeping across the hall from higher above.

It was vibrant blue like bioluminescent fungus, and indeed, it traveled through the same filaments and fruiting bodies spread throughout the whole of the Falls before returning to the point from whence it came. Yet there was no sense of… power, to be found within. It was simply like a light had passed through the chamber. Yet the rumblings it produced told another story.

Even then, not only did Amun not react, but neither did his so-called Troupe. They continued brewing, kept performing, and kept reading without a care.

Suspecting the worst, I went off to investigate, feeling a deep pit of unease grow within my stomach with each passing step toward the forbidden cave- my older sister's home.

Patches of dust where fungus had been increased in frequency as I went, coinciding with the decreasing number of servants and slaves tasked with keeping the place under guard. I made it halfway to where the forbidden chamber was supposed to be before I faced the dead end of collapsed rock.

It was a sight I did not want to inform the Matron of, so to that end, I searched around for Raki and Ruel, only to find them gone. That only made my job easier, however. With them out of the picture, it was up to Nadra or Yela's children to break the Matron's web. Thus I returned to the lore chamber just as Selph was spinning his next tale.

In a way, it was a tale of Amun; Telin's Intervention. But again, he listened to the story with a placid gaze and dreadfully slow blinks.

Selph began with the story of the gates appearing in Youtera, sparking a millennium of war that brought us to the pinnacle of creation in all the realms. Our ancestors learned to manipulate those gates, closing them for good before they used smaller ones to cleanse the motherland of her invaders.

It was when peace had come to Youtera when Telin appeared, demanding they complete various tasks to prepare for the arrival of his champion. Here and in Youtera, it was the first time all elves cooperated on the same endeavor since before the Rending. Together, we learned of every task we could- we and our deities. In turn, our deities developed tasks for their followers.

As for Lilith, she had been weaving webs- giving tasks all along.

When the portals first appeared and elves were sent through them, the then Prime Matriarch Eiriol Za'Darmondiel found herself without her Queen's favor. However, in an act of utter benevolence, the Demon Queen Spider dangled a chance to regain what was lost before the fallen Prime Matriarch. She was to give up her station to her first daughter, High Priestess Etym Za'Darmondiel. In turn, all but Prime Matron Etym's 1st Daughter were tasked with taking drow armies through the gates to spread the name of House Za'Darmondiel across the Mortal Plane.

Even the males were used for this endeavor. The 1st and 2nd Sons, Ildan and Impaviel Za'Darmondiel went to Betrarth. The 4th and 5th Daughters, Alytana and Eknaen Za'Darmondiel went to the Inner Reaches. The 2nd and 3rd Daughters, Eylahnor and Ahnya went to the White Realm. The 6th Daughter, Etyl Za'Darmondiel, accompanied the forsaken Eiriol to Nonus, for the latter was to mold the young Etyl into a Prime Matron.

So it was, Drow followed in Eiriol and Prime Matron Etyl's wake, spreading out from the Nonusian gate to here, beneath the Bodhi Tree, where she helped found the arcane institute and in turn cemented our place here, in Zimysta Falls. In turn, Eiriol regained what was lost: her forfeited life.

Eiriol was rewarded for her efforts with banishment. She was allowed to live as a forsaken drow, yet was promised that her favor would return should she help a bit more; and more, and more, and more.

Such help came in the form of Eiriol finding a portal to the Astral Realm and using the records copied from the motherland to adopt the ways of the monk, building a monastery above Zimysta to make the males more useful to their Matrons. Yet their monastic ways served to be a detriment to them. Being so scattered and ethereal, their minds could no longer be entangled with crimson webs. Thus Abbot Eiriol forever remained cast out and used for her ability to educate.

Vexing! It grew to be vexing, the way Amun blatantly listened to those fantastic tales. It was almost as if he didn't care. Yet I knew that to be an excuse I generated for myself. In truth, it was as if he had heard nothing new or perhaps wished to gain a different perspective from the tale he was told; recited by the likes of Etan.

It became even more vexing when Amun offered to tell his history, again with that placid gaze; what a history it was, recorded on that day by the likes of Selph and several other drow, including me.

It was a glimpse into Amun's memories, divinated and recounted by the likes of that 'Lore Skull' floating about by his side. It projected illusions from its eyes while its mouth wove a tale of a magicless realm filled only with humans and the things they created. Ships of steel that could traverse both endless waters and the infinite void above the skies. Barrels that could launch metallic pellets capable of felling hundreds within seconds. Devices that could do many things enchantments could.

They were humans who held power one could never believe, capable of taming stars and thriving in the most hostile places imaginable. They possessed knowledge one could never fathom, understanding how to merge their flesh with dwarven-like machines to obtain the longevity of elves. It was a realm both he and Telin were native to; a realm of creative destroyers. Technological War Gods ascended from the muck of a deathworld.

The tale claimed Amun could remember every second of that long life of suffering and awe. Every detail. Then, it showed us his birth in Maru after it told us of his conversations with Telin, his 'sponsor,' not his God.

It showed him being the 25th Child of the Nox, the only Son of Emeric Cole and Eved, a violet-eyed drow whose name and visage made us pause in disbelief. It showed his decision to remain in this universe as the Eternal God- to spend his life learning and exploring and when he ran out of things to explore, to change everything and explore some more. Thus he began training, teaching, and planning.

Like all things regarding him, Amun's life seemed contradictory. His upbringing was a tale of organized chaos. He trained his vassals in the ways of combat much like young drow males did to become monks, using the combat his people developed on that false paradise- that deathworld.

He taught them the science and technology those humans discovered and created; their machines of industry, born from manipulating the laws of nature with materials procured from nature. He planned to form first a guild and then an empire to bring his era of 'MagiTech' to prominence. Yet he kept his vassals unsupervised, only giving them orders and leaving them to their own devices. He encouraged them to not blindly follow his ideals but to test them and draw their own conclusions. He inquired about the ambitions of his lessors and changed his plans to befit them, no matter how troublesome the task was.

Actions unheard of to us; both for Drow and for Gods.

Akin to the tales told above, he showed us his training with the legendary Necro King. Yet it was no sense of training we had ever witnessed. Not even drow would put a child at the peak of their first decade against a Magus. Sure, a child would be trained in combat; however, the child would not be beaten to the brink of death and healed in the worst ways imaginable, only to be beaten and healed again and again and again. Not to mention, we could not have that child war against an undying army of shadows for years.

We saw four years of such 'training' pass by in the span of several moments. Then we saw his first ascension. The birth of his arcana and the awakening of his mana cores. Then came the message he sent to the whole of Maru.

Just like the message sent to those above a year before, we saw Amun cast a realm-wide spell across the Marulean sky that spoke to the souls of all within in different ways; just as Telin appeared in the senses to all those elves in different ways.

We then saw him leave the land of his birth and spread his might elsewhere- a village of weak humans on the verge of extinction by the hand of some measly bandits. They were saved in exchange for housing his vassals, yet he shared with them his grace, using living standards as an excuse to lift them to prominence.

Once they sold their souls to him, he trained them to be strong; he taught them to be smart; he planned for their prominence and then left for the Bodhi Tree with tasks for them to complete, giving rise to the birth of his empire before his sixteenth year of living.

When he came to the Bodhi Tree, Amun and his vassals made connections. We saw him impress, befriend, enrage, and become enemies with his fellow students and those who taught at the Tree alike. We saw him learn of their natures. We saw him earn their respect as they earned his trust. In turn, he earned their loyalties to the point of making a devil's deal.

Then, we saw him train them as he did his vassals for half a year- last year; all while his undying minions scoured the Darkworld for metals. All while they were enrolled at the Bodhi Tree.

By the time they evolved, both endeavors were complete. Adamantine and mithral had been acquired and his guild- his Legio Noctis had been formed. Yet that was the prelude to his ascension- the woven world spun in the skies above, raised after the tree of void plagued the skies. There were two other endeavors to accomplish before he truly ascended.

Once he evolved, that became one. He created his divine realm and further organized his Legions, then returned to the Mortal Plane to learn the ways of the Grandmaster Artificer before descending on another pitiful village to spread his glory. Through that came Iris and Blude, who arrived in Shujen by his side.

We then saw the walk we heard so much about. We witnessed him summon the sun to destroy an army on the frozen bay and weave a world of deathly ice to hang above the surface as a permanent reminder. Then, he left.

With Geri, Freki, and Etan, Amun, Blude, and Iris returned to Bakewia and then went to Nevstan, then Redagh, and then out to the Tri-Point. They traveled across the Peninsula, Amun, his chosen followers, and the one chosen to follow him, Etan Za'Darmondiel. They learned of his ways as he learned of theirs, even as he made pacts with unseen individuals in the distance.

We saw them come to a deal, Amun and my brother. An agreement wherein Etan would be Amun's teacher and the Regent of his imperial guild, and Amun would be Etan's commander and boss; but only on one unnamed condition. And then, for years, they trained in his divine realm. His Troupe became the Prime Deities of his Empire, awakened their affinity cores- the humans at least- and evolved. Only then did they return so Amun could complete his march through Nydorden Halls. Thus bringing about the day the Matrons had been looking forward to for so long.

Only once that fantastic tale of dreadful hope transpired did Amun show any emotion. It was a sudden rise of his head coupled with a look of nostalgia as he turned to the darkness pouring from the entrance like thick mist.

<<"But of course, all histories have their secrets.">> He cryptically said. Curiouser, his companions didn't seem to mind his words or the growing presence of something foul, only giving side glances at the darkness and nothing more.

When the Lore Master inquired, all Amun said was <<"Gloom Falls.">> I thought it to be some strange Darkworld phenomenon until Amun lifted his eyes to meet mine, hidden in the shadows high above. <<"Allow me to introduce you all someone, Ilar and family.">>

I winced as he waved us forward, but after reminding myself of his station, I obliged and looked around upon landing before him. <<"Who is it?">>

Amun only smirked in response. Yet before I could speak, a subtle tremor rang throughout the House, beckoning, it seemed, a pervasive cloud of darkness into the chamber. I turned to the source at once, bringing me face-to-breast with the largest, most magnificent figure imaginable.

She was a Drow, and massive, standing well over 2 meters tall and densely packed with rippling muscle that was smoothly lithe all the same. She towered over me as she leaned forward with a predacious smile, seemingly immolating herself in shadows as she set her blacker-than-black eyes on my soul.

I fell to my knees in practiced reverence, arms up high alongside the other drow behind me. <<"Praise be the De-">>

A slender snaked beneath my chin, silencing my words and lifting my feet from the ground with more strength than a giant could produce, bringing me eye-to-eye with that magnificently terrifying visage.

<<"Do <em>not confuse me with your Demon Spider Queen, Ilar.">> She sneered as the darkness regressed from her eyes, bringing about the same gold-limned irises I saw in Etan; only filled with black. The recognition in my eyes, it seemed, caused her to set me down on my feet, yet my heart continued sinking evermore. Thus she pulled me closer. <<"Second, do not disrespect me by praising anyone but or the Elven Devil in my presence.">>

She read my confusion and spun me around, releasing her grip to leave me levitating in place while she walked ahead to lay across the table he sat before, her gaze held at me.

<<"This is Sovereign Galendra.">> Amun said to us with the same unerring expression and monotonous tone; then held a long look at her before turning to the Lore Master.

She, still looking at me, shouted. <<"Go on!">>

I felt a surge of uncertainty run through me as I imagined the worst. But then, she canted her head to face the object of Amun's gaze. <<"Continue your tale, Lore Skull.">>

Shakily, we all took a breath of relief. All of us except Amun, his troupe, and his Lore Skull, who not only spoke the painfully obvious to all those present. It showed us things that were never meant to be seen.

"And now, upon entering the fabled Zimysta Falls…" the head paused, disgust evident in its eyes, set on a scrying illusion of a legion of spiders stomping and biting on a drow form, enveloped in crimson web. "Amun's Champion has been taken, tortured, and threatened with corruption." Each word enhanced the visage of the First Son, bloodied and bruised in the highest dungeons of the temple, pinned by the Eight Legs of Zimysta while the Eight Eyes looked on among their many daughters.

Each word intensified the placidity of Amun's gaze, and therein I realized.

I realized his gaze was not one of placidity. It was one of silent fury; enraged patience. Things the Matrons, their Priestesses, or even Drow as a whole, in our chaotic ways, could not notice much less foresee; and with their attention focused elsewhere, could not hear.

"The Matrons of Zimysta attempt to take the Abyssal Regent's freedom of their own volition. They are free to do this just as the Troupe is free to destroy these Houses in the name of retribution. Your Matrons are free to scheme against our God for the sake of their Goddess in the same way that the Black Plume is free to prey upon Zimysta Falls for the sake of their God.

"And now, the drow of Zimysta must choose to fight and die for their Spider or join the Eotrom Empire, be reincarnated by the Eternal Champion, and follow him across the Mortal Plane" the skull turned its wicked grin to us. "You, Selph, Ilar, and scattered members of House Za'Darmondiel, must decide.

"Either way, the time has come for Zimysta's Fall, bringing us to the present chapter of Amun's history."

"Good." The giant drow smiled at the words. "Our next stop is the Tower of Might, no?"

"That it is." Amun stood with a sigh I could not place, then used his magic to lift her and the table on which she lay before inverting it to float above his head. In turn, the goblin mounted his bone-armored beast and trailed after them without another word, leaving the rest of us stunned or leaning for support, as in my case.

That Drow- that giantess of a Drow contained so much power it had to be Amun's doing. He gave power to anyone, it seemed. Yet hers was far darker than even the cat's. Moreover, she made it here without being detected. She spoke such filth about the Goddess without anyone sensing it from afar. That could only have meant their divinity was more powerful than the Spider's. That, or something else kept Lilith and her followers from gazing upon Amun from afar.

That, or I lost favor; not like I ever had it to begin with.

I was not like my sisters. I was not blinded by piety; I was not one to throw my life away for maddening ideals. I was a survivor, and I would survive this thing we could not turn away from. Even then, I turned to look back at those behind me. I cared not about the rest, but I could not help but feel I dragged my children to such a fate. Phoruca. Ryldin. Viconia. Aufa. Antton. Aldo. Even their children were here, save the sons of Antton and Aldo, last seen with…

It all made sense. Raki. Ruel. Bazra and Barro. Novl and Seon. They all missed this legendary moment like the Matrons. They all were last seen with members of his Troupe. "We were the condition for him to join you. My brother… wanted us to witness this future alongside him.

"Well? Is that not the case?"