The words ‘defeat’ and ‘victory’ have lost meaning. Or maybe they never had them in the first pce. What is defeat? Just loss? A war be won without any victorious battles, an oppo be defeated through pure attrition and nothing else. It is better to pare defeats to ceasefires in our current day, ceasefires with slight territorial ges and moary obligations attached to them, but ceasefires still.

  The two are in an endless cycle. Victory a are parts of the same ss jaw victorious as it devours its owed tail. Ahat tail is ever growing. A nation be defeated, its spirit be crushed, yet this is a mere set-back, a ceasefire. Poputions grow and ge, defeats beemories, memories are either mythologized or fotten. And new geio the cycle. Defeat o be reframed. I am not leading wars for only tempains. I will not accept these ceasefires anymore. Defeat ot be a temporary measure anymore. Defeat has to bee perma. When I cim victory, there will be s left remember.

  And victory? Victory is the same thing as defeat. Victory is annihition.

  - Excerpts from “Philosophy of War”, written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.

  Olonia stood and watched Iliyal as he ied the first door of the cell. The a on Divines were within those cells. She knew of them, but she didn’t know them. There wasn’t a library in Lubska which had any major detail on them, only records of which battles they participated in during the Great War, and before that... There was nothing. She didn’t know their ages, she didn’t know their inal ination locations, for half of them, she didn’t even know their names.

  But Iliyal did, Iliyal very obviously did. He had a bright smile as he waved for Olonia to e over. She did, each step uneasy and wary. Why was she even afraid? She holy did not know, but the chills running down her back, the sudden heaviness in her legs, the way she had to push herself through the air as if she was trying to traverse thick jelly. Nothing sat right with her. Not since she had e here, the fight still on the ground, when they breached into Drayim fortress proper was nothing like she had imagihe anized Padins simply dropping from guns, Iliyal’s sharp and fast ands, the stant movements. She had imagined heroic duels, the testing of wills and skill and all the things myths had told about. And what she got eople dropping dead. Just like that, poof, and gone.

  And then the duel with Waramunt had told her everything she o know about herself. She had duelled with Saksma and Paida and the other Epan mascot Divines, but that was it. They were mere honourable duels, put on for shows. And then Waramunt had e in. She had been strohan him, she knew she was, his blows were fast, but that was all they were.

  A he had still crushed her. It wasn’t a duel, it was an adult spping a child about. She couldn’t eve a single on the God. He had utterly destroyed her will. A Iliyal had still won. Not a single shred of Waramunt’s death y at her feet, it was all Iliyal. He had put the bullet into the man’s shoulder, he had set up the pn. There had been no honour in that duel, Waramunt did not take her seriously, nor did Iliyal. She thought about it now, and the elf’s pn made sense. He didn’t expect her to win in the first pce, he knew she would lose, she was merely there to give him an opening. And theook the opening and it was over. Just like that, poof, and a God was gone.

  And something within Olonia also went poof. She had not ged for some seven hundred years. She had merely been the mascot of a nation, a dutiful guardian that saved during disasters and stayed out of the try’s meandering politics. Alsaria had said it was for her own good, that she didn’t deserve to be part of that sphere. Alsaria had said she was a new being of a new age, that the wounds of the past should not dirty her. Alsaria had said Olonia should not even try to uand, because the simple act of uanding it was a curse. And Alsaria had been right. Olonia uood it now, and something with her shattered. A part of her heart had gone poof, and it was gone.

  Arascus had e back, and she had met Anassa and Neneria. Two Divihat weren’t mascots. That didn’t eveend to be mascots. That stood up for themselves and each other. Two Divihat acted like… that acted like Divihere was the White Pantheon of course, but that was the White Pantheon, they guided the world and maintained Arda’s eternal peace. They were a mountain Olonia had never dreamed of reag, she wasn’t capable enough, she wasn’t strong enough, she simply wasn’t enough. What was only a mere nation before the Goddess of Light? Of Order? Of Peace?

  And Iliyal had called her strohan Waramunt. Poof. Something else had goh those words. He had called her a useless bitch. Somethi poof then too, but something had e in to repce that growing hole. Her heart had shattered into tiny little pieces. The lovely and tender pieuscles galvahemselves into hard steel. They melded themselves into a bde.

  She took a step through the heavy air and shoorto the cell. There was a Divihere, standing bare and dirty, a prisoner for how long? A millennia? Sihe Great War at least. Between her bosom was a bck picture of a sword, and that sword moved. It slid around skin like a srailing down her leg with each breath and sliding back up to her neck. And Olonia looked at that woman. As tall as her, smiling, arms loose at her sides. Hair a beautiful bronze, eyes gleaming like silver, skin almost glowing like polished steel. How long did she stand here? And how could she stand like that? So fident of herself? Those eyes shoh nothing but pure delight. Poof, and another part of Olonia was gone.

  Iliyal extended his arm and poi a se of the bars. “Here, this is the oint.” Olonia’s eyes sed the steel, she didn’t know how the elf saw it. But she gripped her bde, her scale-mail rustled, and she smashed it into that bar.

  And the bar went. Her sabre went through it as easily as butter. The Goddess ihe cell whistled. “You are strong indeed.” Olonia merely stared looked up from the steel bars as the cell’s door started to fall open us ow. She was strong? What was the womaalking about? She was the Goddess of aire nation who couldn’t stand against the spirit of a puny little fortress. A God so pathetic a mortal had killed him.

  Olonia had no reply, so she said nothing. Iliyal seemed to notice the lull and spoke up. “Olonia, this is Asna, of the Sword.” He turo Olonia. “Asna, this is Olonia, Goddess of Lubska.” He tinued. “That’s the try we’re in now.” Asna smiled as she stretched and yawned, arms above her head, bosom moving with her. Olonia stared at her in awe, even when she was stood in a prison cell and he Goddess simply radiated the air of Divinity. That surety in oneself, that fidehat whatever happened, you were still correct. Poof, and something else went.

  “Maps have ged?” Asna asked in a deep and cold voice, almost business like. And Olonia stared ihe woman had just been released and now? Straight down to business? She didn’t know a single Divine who would be capable of that, even industrious Saksma o take breaks every now and then. Poof, this time, it was a shard of her pride. How could she proud when a being like this existed?

  “Maps have ged.” Iliyal said in a light tone. Olonia noticed it, he didn’t speak to her like that. “Time is tight.” A bang on the door and the creaking of hinges reminded Olonia they were still being chased. “So expnations will e ter.”

  Asna rolled her eyes, but she wore a pleasant little smile as she spoke to Iliyal. “You’ve not ged a bit.”

  “I tried not to.” He said and held out his hand. “So, like back then?”

  “Like back then.” Asna said. Gentle Divine fiouched Iliyal’s rough hand, she didn’t eveion the ck of a finger on his hand, noed with bahe moment the woman touched his skin, she started to shine, her body started to flow as if Iliyal was dragging her into himself. Her feet disappeared first, her calves, her thighs, her other hand started to slide as her tattoo moved onto Iliyal’s body and pulled Asna with it. Her head twisted and turned, sucked into Iliyal. Asna was smiling the whole time.

  Olonia took a step back as she felt the sheer power radiating off Iliyal. The tattoo slithered into his palm and rose out of his body. It took the shape of a swleaming with silver. And Asna appeared behind Iliyal, h in the air, arms ed around him. She slid her arm down his, their bodies overpped into each other, and the woman dragged a sed bde out of the first one. Iliyal did not seem to care, he merely smiled and gave the sword a few swings, it cut through the air with a sound, then he swung it at the bars. They may as well have not been there, the bde simply travelled through them, cutting through almost soundlessly, the sound only came when the bars lost band cttered on the dark stoiles. “You’re as sharp as ever.” Iliyal said.

  “I’m offended you even sidered I would grow dull.” Asna’s ghost said from behind him, she was almost opaque, Olonia could just about make out shapes when she looked through her. The other men stared in just as much awe as the Goddess of Lubska.

  Iliyal took a step towards the cell. “Labrys, of the Axe.” He swung Asna and the Goddess moved with him. A pair of bdes of appeared with his swift swing, they disappeared for a moment. And then re-appeared. And the cell bars fell apart into different pieces.

  “Took your time, didn’t you Iliyal?” Labrys said as she stepped out. Shorter than Asna, but with a warmer fad a bosom to make Agrita jealous, with a head of vicious gold hair, the ends turning to bronze.

  “No time to talk, save it for ter.” Olonia blinked as she looked at the elf all but ighe womaepped to the cell. The ohe male voice came from.

  “Pridwen, of the Shield.” Iliyal said, Asna did not even move turn a single muscle as she moved, it was as if she art of Iliyal. Labrys ied the men. Olonia saw bronze eyes settle on her, Labrys smiled and waved, then jumped when she heard the battering on the door.

  “You didn’t tell me we were utack!” Labrys shouted.

  “Shut up Labrys.” Asna said. “Of course we’re utack.”

  “You’re being broken out.” Iliyal shouted. “I’d prefer you find one of my soldiers to wield you so that we all make it out.” He cut the cell door to Pridwehis was a man’s voice. Huge and thick, with shoulders so wide Olonia could sit on one of them. With long hair and a tired face, but it was sharp. Nude, like all of them.

  “Arascus did not e?” Pridwen asked.

  “There’s a above.” Iliyal answered and there were cheers from every cell. Even Asna smiled to herself. Labrys stepped to Olonia and looked her up and down.

  “You’re not a fighter.” She said immediately. Then leao i Olonia’s sabre. The woman, naked as she was, had the audacity to do a double take, looking at Olonia, at the bde, at Olonia, at the bde again. “Why are you using a cavalry sabre without a horse?”

  “LABRYS!” Iliyal shouted. “Pieone!”

  “First e, first serve.” Pridwen already found a man, the one Iliyal had called Baker. They were both huge, but the mortal obviously did not pare to the god. “What is your name?” He asked.

  “Baker.” The God cracked a smile.

  “Just that?”

  “Just that.” The man replied, fident resolution in his voice.

  “Very well Baker, wield me.” The God extended his hand. Baker grabbed it as Labrys shook her head and walked through the crowd. The men all pretended as if they weren’t lookily where they were looking. And just as Asna had been dragged into Iliyal, Pridwen was dragged into Baker. The God had a shield tattoo on his back, it travelled down Baker’s arm, then popped from his body. Pridwen’s ghost rose out of Baker and grabbed his own copy with the shield as the man waved it around.

  “You’re quite light.” Baker said in an impressed voice.

  “Are you pining?” Pridwen said.

  “enting.” Baker replied. He looked to Iliyal. “So what now?”

  “They’ll guide you, don’t worry about it.” Baker chuckled with disbelief as he stared at the shield on his arm and swung it around.

  “Not much help that.” He said.

  “I ’t teaelee bat in a minute.” Iliyal shouted. Five more Divines were free. A woman with a spear running down her entire body, from her foot and ending at her neck. A man with a bow painted on his chest, one arm slightly lohaher. Another man with a crossbow. A woman with a halberd. The entire armoury.

  Labrys found a man she liked, she stopped before him, hands behind her back, and leaning forwards as to put her face close to his. “Your name?”

  “Stalker.” The man skinny man said and Labrys raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

  “Stalker?” She said dryly.

  “I didn’t choose it.” The man matched the ftness of her toh his own and Labrys smiled a smile that promised a thousand and one different things.

  “Well Stalker, I stalk with you?” She asked rather politely. He smiled and held out his hand. She took it, the double-headed axe tattoo travelled down her arm and onto his, and the Goddess’ body was dragged with it. She appeared as a ghost behind him. Olonia merely stared. Every human had been armed and there was still Divines left. She walked past the ghosts and to Iliyal, atg the door. The Divines outside were still banging on it, the hinges were starting to creak.

  “Do I not wield one?” She asked the elf.

  “You’re a Divine.” Iliyal said, he didn’t even look at her, instead pnting the tip of Asna into the ground, it slid into the stone as if it was butter. “Whe out, you try but I wouldn’t do it here.”

  “Oh.” Olonia said, Iliyal finally turo look at her, he must have realised she was satisfied with that answer.

  “Divines weren’t meant to wield Divines. It’s not as gentle as when a mortal wields them. Trust me on this.” He said. Olonia didn’t know why she believed the elf, but she did. He looked at the door, then down at the bde in his hand.

  “That’s Anassa’s door.” He said.

  “And who is tryi in?” Asna’s ghost replied from behind him.

  “I don’t know, minor Divines.” The Goddess of the Sword’s chuckle sent a chill down Olonia’s back.

  “I never sidered you the patient type.” Asna said gently.

  “I’m the most patient man on Arda.” Iliyal said as he stepped to side. Olonia moved to stay o Iliyal. “But today, I suppose my patience has just about ran out.” He turo his men. “WHO HAS BESSY!?” He shouted. A man stepped forwards, an old musket in his hands. A Goddess behind him, tall and thin. She held her own copy of the rifle, her hair was brown like the wood of the gun, her eyes silver like its cold steel.

  “I do!” The man shouted.

  “It’s Bess.” The ghost said from behind him in a stern tone, she clicked her to sounded like the flick of a switch.

  “Juniet niames.” Labrys said cheekily from the side and Bess scowled at the woman by her side.

  “Save us some time.” Iliyal o the door. “Blow it open.” The man blihen stared at the rifle, he lifted it and pulled the trigger. It did nothing and Bess side from above, her ghost moved, she flicked a little handle on the side of the gun.

  “That’s how you handle me. I won’t show you again.”

  “She’s moody, you have to be geh muskets.” Iliyal said with a grin. The elf looked like a new maared at the ghosts, his eyes practically burning with excitement.

  “I am NOT!” Bess shouted.

  And the man pulled the trigger. Bess immediately so attention. The man fired a cloud of smoke. The ghost did. A musket that had appeared in the air by his side joined in. And another. A third. The muskets all appeared instantly, they made ranks upon ranks, all , all unleashed a cloud of smoke.

  The smoke cleared after a few seds, and Olonia turned her eyes to the door. Although there was no door, there was no wall either. It had all been blown open, a Divine in silver armour was lying on the ground, his chest missing. Another had been blown backwards across the entire corridor. A third Divine was missing an arm. A dozen Padins y dead. A mage too.

  They stared in horror at Iliyal’s neonry.

  And the elf wasted no time, he ran forwards and swung Asna. The ghost swung with him. Two men fell and a dozen swords rose suddenly materialized around Asna. They raced forwards, slig as if wielded by bde masters, sliding along parry and finding holes and weaknesses in armour. A mage mounted a terattack, Baker smmed his shield down as Iliyal rolled to avoid the attack. Asna’s ghosts merely started to ugh as the fire ploughed through hair, it burst on Pridwen, the fmes tried to escape, and the shield swallowed them. Baker lifted the shield back up and stared at it in awe. Pridwen chuckled from behind him.

  Stalker unched himself forwards with Labrys in his hand and her ghost behind him. Asna’s sword aimed for the heart and throat, they beheaded and killed quickly and effitly. And Labrys did nothing of that. Axes smmed into Padin’s sides, flinging them against the walls and crushing bodies. They tore through shield as if they were felling trees, they severed leg and arm from torso and they left moaning bodies on the ground. And Iliyal reached the end of the corridor. How many had just been killed? How quickly?

  He turned. Olonia saw madness spiral across his face, his eyes started to burn, it was the first time she had seen him smiling. A God appeared from the side of the door. Asna the ghost parried the blow, Asna the bde cut into his chest. The Divine coughed up blood, Iliyal twisted the sword, cut upwards. He turned on his feet, twisted his core. Olonia had hought she would ever see the day a mortal flung a God over himself, but she did. Iliyal pulled his bde out and smmed it back down, straight into the Divine’s heart.

  Olonia stared at the dead. Poof, and gone.

  Was it them that went poof? Or was it her?

  She did not know.