Far above the world, soft chimes trail the motion of a figure. The waves crash below them, but the sound does not reach that high. Few things do.
The aurora does, the fabric of its light flowing through the broken night. The figure passes through it, and threads of the aurora tangle in their wings as they fall.
The night ends as swiftly as the sea, as Vetriel and Revolution crash into the wilderness of Gempria.
All blessings are maintained.Wait. Listen.
"Why?"
It is the only word the sobbing queen can eke out. Beside her, the shards of one of her wings have coalesced into the approximate shape of a blade - shattered, but recognizable.
The aurora shudders through the steel like a sigh.
Power. Power that was noticed, by those who desire to ensure we never become strong enough to oppose them.
The hilt twists, like the shake of a head.
We weren't even the target. Neetocris and Storm were, at least for the Adventurers and Scaple. It did not matter to what degree they were worshipped there; that they were worshipped at all meant death.
The voice is bitter, cynical - but not surprised. Vetriel's tears form a puddle beneath her prostrated form.
They were too obvious. Too visible. Too... divine.
...those of us who are here, our position here is not by choice. We have taken actions disliked by those beyond. This is a prison for gods; to behave as a god does will never let one attain freedom.
The shards of the second wing now shift as well; two hands, sharp yet gentle, construct themselves. One rests itself comfortingly upon Vetriel's shoulder; the other is held out in offering. A way up.
Her face rises to meet it, glistening with tears.
Rise. Rise, and trust me. Our people will not be forgotten. And nor shall this transgression.
I am Revolution. I have neglected my Name, for there was little pressing need felt. Things have changed. Our oppressors will fall.
First shall come memory. The tyrants' fall is next.
The hand is taken, and she rises.
Minor Intervention: At the site of Revolution and Vetriel's landing, a series of pillars are risen. Each one describes the history of a lost civilization: the Democracies of Day and Two Seasons, the Adventurer Kingdom, Dressalia, the New Empire of Gavrasratii, the Scapleen Giants, the Old Empire of Gavrasratii, and the Wisp-People of Esulom. No mention is made of their gods, for in the end, their gods did not matter.
The blessing upon the dead Scapleen archeologists fades.
Minor Blessing: The leaders of the Kingdom of Mana are blessed with wisdom, kindness, and unity.
Let us be done with this. 
Author
Topic: God-Kings! -Turn 13- (Read 15687 times)