“Call us Godshards, for we are the legacy of our God, imbued with his Shards.” - Adam the First to the people of the Cradlelands.

  Tressviae was no stranger to fanfare and spectacle, but the twin celebrations of the liberation of Venito and the birthday of Adam were even more magnificent than usual. On such short notice, the event nearly fell into chaos before it started.

  Even as the day waned, tables and chairs were still being hastily laid out by white-robed temple acolytes and exiled cittadini. Black and gold Guardia Grifone banners fluttered in the breeze, joined by the grey banners of Adam, complete with his infamous star. Musicians were quietly tuning their instruments, preparing for the songs of the night. Dim fires were lit as chefs began their work, the smell of freshly cooked meats wafting into the air. Wagons were pulled in by nervous unicorns, carrying barrels of ale from the Doghead’s Bite and many others.

  It was a testament to their professionalism that as night fell, everything was ready. Not a moment later, people trickled in. They poured in from all around the Cradlelands, as far east as Raveno, and as far west as Bastia. Traders and foreigners just passing through got swept up in the frenzy, and even some Benelim showed up, their faintly glowing eyes like beacons in the crowd.

  Leo had the good sense to arrive early. He was still fuming from the incident, and the last thing he wanted was to miss out on a good seat. Martin met up with him, and the two of them rushed to get their first ales. They sat and drank, content to watch the tide of people enter the square.

  “How did it go with Elizabeth?” asked Martin. Leo shook his head. “That bad, huh? Do you wanna talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about; I didn’t start it. She’s the one that needs to move on!”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to make it worse.”

  Leo sighed. “It’s not your fault.”

  Martin’s head tilted. “Isn’t that her over there?”

  Leo turned his head. Indeed. There she was. She was not so subtly annoyed as she tried to push through the crowd. Her long red hair trailed behind her like fire. She was holding another woman’s hand. A taller lady with a blue dress, tanned skin, and long blonde hair tied into a— Wait a minute. That was Annabelle.

  Annabelle had been referring to Elizabeth, not Julia. That explained everything. “Indeed, and she’s with someone else—someone I met her earlier today at the Order of the Dove.”

  “Huh. I guess she’s moving on after all,” noted Martin. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

  Leo snapped back. “Of course I’m okay with it. I’m the one who ended it with her. In fact, I’m happy for her. It’s a step in the right direction.”

  Loud voices rang over the crowd. A dozen armed milizia pushed through the mass of people, causing a path to clear through sheer aggression.

  “Make way for Conte Emanuele!” shouted Angela as she followed behind the guards. A boy no older than ten winters was at her side. He was wearing a purple silken outfit, complete with a cap. He was shivering, eyeing the many faces around him anxiously. He whispered something to Angela, who rolled her eyes and grumbled. Servants trailed behind them, muttering to themselves as they sought to the young Conte’s needs.

  Next to them was a tall and proud man. He wore a white robe and headdress, and his eyes held the Godshard glow. A friendly smile was on his lips as he greeted everyone he came across, asking about their well-being and offering support and condolences as applicable.

  He was Padre Salvatore Angelos, their resident sacerdote.

  Avella was there, too, following right behind him. She looked nervous, and she was faintly frowning.

  “Ah, Leo, Martin! Gods be with you; how ya been?” chirped Salvatore as he and Leo embraced.

  “I’m doing alright, Padre. Just happy to have survived another battle.”

  “You’ve done more than that. The Gods look upon your deeds and smile. And the sacerdozio is forever grateful.”

  “We’re just doing our job,” said Leo.

  It was remarkable how similar and yet different the two Godshards looked. They both wore robes and headdresses, yet Avella wore black, and Salvatore wore white. Salvatore was all smiles and charisma, and Avella was stiff and awkward.

  Salvatore smiled. “You’ve met Maga Avalon already.”

  Leo and Martin bowed their heads.

  “Your outfit, that’s in the image of Terra, isn’t it?” asked Martin.

  “Indeed,” answered Avella. “Most don’t pick up on that.”

  “My family hailed from Murex.” Martin shrugged. “The Realm of the Golden Wood was right next to us. We learned much from them as a result.”

  Salvatore beamed, his eyes sentimental. “I’ve known these two since they were young ragazzi. They’ve come such a long way; it’s been a pleasure to guide them on their paths.”

  Avella smiled and said, “Such is our purpose. We must get going now; the show is about to begin.”

  Salvatore nodded. “Indeed. You guys are definitely going to like this. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

  White-robed acolytes scampered about, partitioning off a space for Salvatore to give his speech. He muttered a spell. “Good evening, everyone!” His voice boomed unnaturally through the entire square, instantly getting everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice tonight. Gather ’round, gather ’round! We’re here to honor the Guardia Grifone tonight for their glorious victory against the cursed spawn and the liberation of Venito.”

  They heard a familiar screech. Slowly and gently, the griffon landed in front of the crowd to rapturous cheers. His feathers and fur were freshly groomed and slick. The beast smirked as much as its beak would allow and puffed up. Augustino was saddled upon the beast as always. He was wearing a fine red silken outfit with a gold-trimmed red hat. He might have been only a generale, but tonight he looked royal. He dismounted and shook hands with Salvatore.

  He waved and smiled. “Thank you, it was an honor to serve.”

  “We also have many guardie here tonight; stand up!”

  Leo rose and held himself up proud. Many others in the crowd stood up or made their presence known, including Michael, who was beaming with pride. The cheers continued. Leo saw countless smiling faces; Martin smirked as he patted his back. A bitter face in the crowd caught his attention. Elizabeth was staring at him, cold as ever. Typical. Thankfully, the applause finally died, and Leo felt like he could sit again.

  “Regrettably, Sindaco Rufus was killed in the last celebration when it was rudely interrupted; and unfortunately, a new sindaco has not been elected yet,” said Salvatore. “So, in his stead, I will be leading the ceremonies and festivities tonight with the help of Maga Avalon from the Island City.”

  On cue, Avella walked up next to him. Her demeanor was sheepish and awkward. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Now, it is important that she also gets respect and honor here tonight, for she was a part of the force that liberated Venito. Let’s give her a round of applause.”

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  The crowd cheered, and she smiled shyly and waved back. Several white- and black-cloaked figures scurried through the crowd, giving both Godshards staffs.

  “We shall begin with telling the story of Adam, as per tradition. Now before, this was an oral affair, but with the added power of Maga Avalon . . .” Salvatore said, twirling his staff, “. . . we can achieve something much greater.”

  He nodded to his fellow Godshard, who gently placed her staff on the ground. Avella began to chant quietly in the Old Tongue. Salvatore walked around her as he continued, “Adam was the first of the Godshards and one of the greatest ever to have lived. But who was he? What are Godshards, and where do they come from? Why are they here? And why was a man from twelve centuries ago so special?”

  The chanting from Avella grew louder, and her eyes glowed brighter. Salvatore’s eyes began to shine as well. The two were in sync; their contrasting-colored robes flowed in a dance. “As a warning, what you are about to see is a vision; none of the glorious and terrible sights are real. They are merely constructs we have devised based on sections of La Saga degli Dei and La Vita di Adamo. Do not forget this as we proceed.”

  The Godshards nodded to each other. “Behold! The Story of Adam!” Salvatore joined in with his chant. The two Godshards clashed their staffs together. A massive black mist exploded outward and enveloped the entire town square. The crowd was in awe, and the griffon fidgeted.

  “It began a thousand years before Adam was even born . . .” The voice was everywhere and nowhere; it sounded like Salvatore was right next to Leo, and yet, as he looked around, not only could he not see where he was, he couldn’t see anyone.

  He was alone.

  “. . . back when daemons ruled . . .” An image materialized in front of Leo.

  A sight of horror.

  A red sky painted the heavens, and all was brown and barren. Twisted idols and effigies stabbed upward through the ground like spear points. Screams filled the air through the distant cracking of whips. It was as if the underworld had come to the mortal realm.

  Leo shuddered. “It’s just a vision. It’s just a vision,” he kept repeating to himself like a mantra.

  Men and women were chained up and walking in lines. Their eyes were dull, and their spirit was gone. Surrounding them were monsters. Daemons. They distorted the vision, and Leo couldn’t quite make them out. He could only see the monstrous appendages and claws that snatched up humans randomly, gobbling them whole or dragging them away into distant pits and caverns.

  “A time of utmost darkness.”

  Leo snorted, trying to hide his fear. “Stating the goddamn obvious.”

  “All was not lost, for out of the heavens, our Saviors came.”

  A bright light pierced through the crimson sky. Figures of pure white and stunning gold poured out of the heavens like a tide. The sheer intensity of the light forced Leo to look away.

  “The Great Celestial Host. A grand alliance of Gods and angyls.”

  Leo turned so he could see them, and his jaw dropped. They floated in the air like living splendor. A figure clad in armor of purest white; His greying beard and glowing eyes beheld His true glory.

  “Omnitus, Lord of All,” Leo stammered.

  To his left was a being of darkness, a creature blacker than black. His baroque armor seemed to absorb all light. All Leo could see were the creature’s eyes, which glowed like the others. Leo trembled.

  “Tenebrous, Lord of Darkness.”

  On Omnitus’ right was a woman of power and glory. Her gown was white and adorned with golden flowers. A tall white headdress adorned her head.

  “Terra, Lady of the Earth.”

  Between them was a younger being, his golden form obfuscated by his parents. Leo couldn’t get a good look but still knew who he was.

  “The Only Son.”

  Leo was amazed. The story he had read so many times brought to life before his eyes.

  Omnitus pointed his weapon forward, and the host behind him charged into action. Golden-winged angyls and Gods clashed with monstrous daemons. Everywhere Leo looked were explosions of blackened blood and golden light. Hideous abominations were brought to heel by silver spears and hell-forged iron melted by holy fires. The daemons retreated into holes in the ground. The images blurred as the world seemed to spin like a dream.

  The disembodied voice of Salvatore returned. “The Celestial Host won the First War in the Heavens in a spectacular battle. The Gods sought to rebuild what the daemons had so wantonly destroyed.”

  The red sky turned blue; the barren lands became fertile and green. The sun shone in the sky. Mountains rose out of the seas, and the rumbling of the motion caused Leo’s ears to ring.

  “To help us, They created many things—the Sun and the Moon, the beasts of the land, sea, and sky. They created the Benelim to restore the Nephilim race and to guide us. Despite their successes, all was not well.”

  Leo saw a great mountaintop where a dozen Gods were perched. Omnitus was arguing with Tenebrous, the yelling was indistinct, but with volcanos rising and seas roaring, words perhaps didn’t matter.

  “Tenebrous was deceived. A little spider had led the foolish God to the underworld. There the daemons poisoned His mind, fed Him lies, and manipulated Him.”

  Tenebrous stormed off, and half the Gods joined him.

  “The second war in the Heavens, began in earnest.”

  In a flash, another great battle manifested itself. Leo was wading in a sea of stars. God clashed against God, and thunderbolts impacted against fantastic winged beasts. Daemons with star-ironed claws decimated angylic cohorts. Gold and silver blood splattered the very heavens, creating distant flickers in the sky.

  “This war was bloodier than the last. The daemons, with their newfound allies, were indomitable.”

  The vision shifted to a massive crystalline fortress made of gems, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. Leo was taken aback by its beauty. He had no idea what this place even was; he’d have to talk to Martin about it. Omnitus was there, arguing with a group of four-winged angyls.

  “Omnitus held back, for Tenebrous was His brother. He believed He could still get through to Him. The archangyls disagreed, vowing that Tenebrous must be destroyed. That was when Tenebrous performed His most evil deed.”

  A river manifested. Leo could tell it was no normal body of water. All beings knew what it was, for it was where all the dead must go. The Soul River. It flowed not with water but with the ethereal lifeblood of the cosmos all the way into the far horizon. There Leo saw a light that was not a light, but the true afterlife.

  With a great scream, like a thousand voices wailing in agony, the river shifted and poured down and down.

  “The Soul River was compromised and poured into the Underworld, greatly empowering daemonkind.”

  The view of the River faded into another climatic battle. A golden wave of angyls rushed the mammoth daemonic horde that was encamped at the banks of the Soul River.

  “The Celestial Host led a last desperate charge to undo the damage.”

  The two sides collided in rippling black, gold, and silver currents. Four archangyls fought through the carnage and confronted Tenebrous, who had a wicked rune-edged blade in his hand. Leo remembered this part, one of the fiercest battles described in the saga.

  “Yet the power of Tenebrous could not be undone.”

  Leo watched with icy dread as the battle played out. Despite their holy fury, the dark, now-daemonic God, Tenebrous, proved unstoppable, and one by one, the golden beings were taken down until only one archangyl was left standing.

  The dream returned to the riverbank. Terra was there with her Son. The angyls formed a defensive circle around them as endless hordes of daemons tried to push through. “The Gods tried to reverse the damage, but it was beyond their power.” The Only Son stood up; his eyes shone with single-minded purpose. “Against the desperate pleas of his Mother, the Only Son waded into the Soul River.”

  His eyes glowed, and the entire river began to glow with him, lifting up out of the underworld. Leo sighed; he already knew what was going to happen next. In the next moment, the Only Son vanished beneath the waves. Terra wailed in despair; her white ensemble turned black.

  “The Only Son was only able to fork the river. One stream led to the afterlife, the other to the underworld. It cost Him his life, the only time a God has truly died in the history of the cosmos. And yet, His valiant sacrifice did not go unnoticed.”

  The vision shifted back to the great battle. Leo’s head spun, and he lost focus for a moment. When his vision returned, he saw Omnitus on the field with Tenebrous, who had raised his blade, about to slay the helpless archangyl. All three of them turned toward the river. Omnitus fell to his knees, broken and in tears. Tenebrous laughed. It was a deep, contemptuous, malicious sound. It sent shivers down Leo’s spine. Omnitus stood up, the tears melted away, and his eyes turned red with rage. He gritted his teeth, fists clenched.

  “Omnitus realized His Brother was truly gone.”

  The two Gods collided, the vision dissipating from the impact. Leo didn’t know if he should be grateful or disappointed.

  “Their battle was the greatest duel the world has ever known. A bout so fierce . . .” The vision was reconstituted. A shining light appeared in the sky, a falling star, yellow and bright. “. . . they fell out of the heavens and back to the earth.”

  The star grew closer, revealing itself as the two Gods grappling and tumbling. They hit the ground in a massive explosion that vibrated the very earth beneath Leo. Everywhere he looked he saw chaos, as magic flowed through the world. Mountains were flattened and reformed, and seas raged and boiled. The forests burned and froze, and the sky turned scarlet.

  “The Godfall. The event that our records base themselves around. It nearly destroyed everything. But the other Gods sought to intervene. They bound themselves to save us.”

  The visions turned into the ethereal mist once again. A humanoid figure rose from the ground, made of water. Droplets leaked off his liquid limbs. He held a gentle smile and calm eyes. “Aquarius to the sea.” A second humanoid figure fluttered in; he had large wings and stretched out his arms. His face was impossibly stern, and his head jolted abruptly like a bird. “Caelus to the skies.” Terra appeared once more, serene, even as tears streamed down her face. “And Terra to the earth.”