Chapter 239: Chapter 238 – Embers of Celebration on the Dark Isle
Several hours had passed since the last screams of the paladins vanished into the storm. Snow covered the trails of blood, blanketed the corpses, and muffled the ruins of once-magnificent temples, now reduced to rubble and embers. The Church’s branches on the Dark Isle had all fallen in a single day; none remained standing. Even the inter-island teleportation circle, the only swift path to the outside world lay shattered, its magical cracks closing like broken glass swallowing light.
The zombie army had already returned to the castle. They stood stiff in the courtyard, a frozen black phalanx amidst the snow, awaiting their next command. The Ancient Titan still kept its watch at the gate; its towering frame, now glazed in ice, loomed like a mountain, yet its eyes still gleamed, guarding the silence.
Meanwhile, on the far side of Anarats, warm light spilled from Velthya’s great house. Inside came the crackle of fire, the hiss of roasting meat, and faint laughter sounds rare from those who had just leveled their enemies.
In the main hall of the rear pavilion, embers glowed in a great stone hearth. Thin smoke filled the air with the aroma of snow-stag meat slowly roasting with northern forest spices.
Velthya, her silver tail swishing quickly, busied herself flipping the meat with a long iron fork. Her grin was wide, her golden eyes shining with excitement.
"Hahaha! I never thought... Tonight I’d celebrate with all of you. Sylvia, Celes, Alicia, Stacia, Aurellia look, this table is full. For the first time, my home feels truly alive."
Celes, sitting cross-legged on a wooden chair, merely raised a brow. Her white hair hung loose, the hem of her gown still stained with dried blood. She glanced at the hearth, then at Velthya.
"You seem more excited now than when you smashed a temple wall with your bare hands."
Velthya chuckled, her fangs flashing.
"Of course. Battles bring spirit, but feasts bring meaning. What’s the point of breaking the Church if we can’t sit together afterward and laugh at them?"
Aurellia sat beside Celes, staff still in hand though its crystal dimmed. She drew in a long breath, the scent of roasted meat filling her lungs.
"I’ll admit, this was a good idea. After all the fire I unleashed, it’s fitting I end the day with a gentler flame."
Stacia closed her grimoire and set it on the table. A soft smile touched her lips, her cheeks flushed from the room’s warmth.
"I agree. Honestly, I can still hear my buff-chants echoing in my ears. But... seeing all of you here, it feels less like an army, and more like a family."
Alicia only gave a faint smile. The blue lantern that usually burned on her staff now hung on the wall as an extra lamp. She turned her gaze toward Sylvia, seated at the end of the table.
"What do you think, Sylvia? Does this feast feel deserved?"
Sylvia sat straight, still wearing the black gown from battle. Her long hair cascaded freely, crimson eyes reflecting the hearth’s glow. She didn’t answer at once; she simply took a piece of roasted meat, bit into it slowly.
Crunch. Juices spilled, steam curling upward.
At last, Sylvia spoke softly,
"For tonight... yes. It is deserved."
Velthya laughed in satisfaction.
"That’s enough for me." She carved a large cut of meat with a small sword, placing portions onto each plate. "Eat! We’ve destroyed not one, but every Church branch on this isle. And we shattered their teleportation circle. That means... for now, the Dark Isle belongs to us."
Aurellia arched a brow, staring at the fire.
"For now?"
Velthya nodded.
"Yes. You know the central Church won’t stay idle. Once the reports reach them, they’ll send troops larger, perhaps far greater than those we fought today."
Celes calmly sliced her meat, voice steady.
"Let them come. It will be easier to crush them in greater numbers."
Stacia looked at her, a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"But that means we must prepare for a long war. There’s no more hiding."
"And isn’t that our purpose?" Alicia replied, voice soft yet firm. "The Church cannot be allowed to rule the world with their false light. If not now, then when?"
At last, all eyes turned toward Sylvia.
She set her fork down slowly, gaze fixed on the glowing embers.
"Whatever the central Church does, we will answer. We have our army. We have our power. And most importantly..." she turned, meeting each face in turn, "...we share the same resolve."
Silence lingered. Only the crackle of fire and the hiss of roasting meat filled the hall.
Velthya then raised her goblet of red wine high.
"Then, to that resolution. To all of us. And to the Dark Isle our new home!"
"To the Dark Isle." Their voices rang together, goblets clinking softly tok!
Outside, the blizzard returned. Winds howled, carrying shards of ice that erased the battlefield’s tracks. Yet inside, the warmth of fire and scent of meat made the storm feel distant, like a tale from elsewhere.
Aurellia laughed as Velthya tried to steal meat from Sylvia’s plate, only to be met with a cold stare.
"First come, first served," Sylvia said flatly, drawing laughter all around, even a faint smile from Celes.
Stacia leaned back, eyes sparkling as she looked at them.
"Honestly, I never imagined sitting like this. With all of you. It feels... like a dream."
Alicia patted her hand gently.
"Then don’t wake up. Let’s make this dream real."
The warmth lingered. Glasses raised again and again, meat passed from hand to hand. Laughter and chatter filled the night, muffling the weight of what awaited tomorrow.
But far across the sea, at the Church’s central isle, the scene was starkly different.
A vast hall of gleaming white marble walls blazed with the light of thousands of candles. Statues of angels lined the corridor, and at its far end stood a high throne gilded in gold.
A great bishop knelt trembling, his voice breaking as he reported.
"Your Eminence... all branches on the Dark Isle... have fallen. None remain. Even the inter-island teleportation circle is destroyed. We... we cannot reach the forces there..."
The High Council of the Church fell silent. Old faces in white and gold robes exchanged glances, some furious, others fearful.
"What do you mean, all fallen?" boomed one cardinal. "One day... only one day, and they destroyed every branch on that isle?"
The bishop pressed his head lower.
"Yes, Your Eminence... witnesses report the attack was led by an undead army, commanded by a woman in black... and other creatures they could not describe."
Angry whispers filled the chamber.
"The Zombie Queen... she has moved."
"And now... the Dark Isle is no longer ours."
"This cannot be allowed. Cannot!"
An aged cardinal rose, his golden staff striking the floor.
"Send word to all remaining branches. Prepare the armies. We will ignite the fires of war. The Dark Isle must be reclaimed or the whole world will tremble at our light’s dimming."
Silence fell again, broken only by the hiss of candle flames.
In the Divine Realm, the stars themselves trembled.
This was no sky, nor earth, an endless space of colliding light and darkness, crashing like eternal waves. Here the gods sat upon their thrones, faces veiled in light, shadow, or the essence of their domain.
They had just witnessed what transpired on the Dark Isle. Their plan had been to wait, allow the central Church to strengthen, and strike Sylvia when the time was ripe. But tonight, that plan lay in ruin.
All temples on a single isle were annihilated in a day. The teleportation circle is gone. The Dark Isle wholly in Sylvia’s hands.
In that undefined expanse, seventeen towers of light stood encircling an empty throne. Its sky was not sky, but a whirl of stars and void.
A god cloaked in the night’s mantle, his face swallowed in formless shadow, opened the council with a flat tone.
"Our plan has failed. The Church had no time to move. That queen of darkness struck faster than we foresaw."
He was Velgrath, God of Endless Night. Starlight dimmed around him, as though his presence consumed every gleam.
From another side, a woman’s voice surged like waves.
"My seas weep. Thousands of souls fell, swallowed before they could be offered. I heard their screams between the tides. All of it... the work of one woman."
Nerys, Goddess of the Waves. Her hair curled like currents, every word dripping with the salt of oceans.
Harsh laughter shook the realm, followed by flames roaring from a massive red form.
"Hahaha! That is how an enemy should be! If they can spill so much blood, then battle’s fire grows all the brighter. I will stoke my Eternal Ember once more. The Church’s soldiers are weak, but with my blessing... they will become more than mere men."
Korthan, God of Eternal Flame and Great Battles, hefted his blazing spear that pulsed like a heart.
Elsewhere, a silver-masked god spoke, his voice deep and hollow.
"The boundaries have been shaken. They destroyed the teleportation circle, even tearing at my pathways between worlds. It is an insult."
Olmerath, God of Borders and the In-Between, gazed into the void.
"I will seal them within that isle. No soul shall pass without my leave."
A goddess with endless black hair, her eyes bottomless pits, added her layered voice, as though many tongues spoke at once.
"Unformed darkness demands. I, Xynareth, shall pour nameless potential into the Church’s armies. They will become empty vessels, ready to be forged into weapons."
The earth shuddered as gray lightning struck. A towering figure, his face shifting from young to old, appeared.
"I am the beginning, and I am the end. They have ignited war too soon. Then I, Zha’gor, shall ensure this cycle completes. I will pen a new page with their blood."
The voices of six gods clashed, forming a storm of energy that rattled heaven and earth.
Yet not all joined.
From faint glimmers, Caelyra merely laughed, her shadows refracting behind unseen mirrors.
"You squabble like children. Truth and lies blur, yet I care not. I’d rather watch them dance in the illusions I will weave."
Three others remained silent:
Syvalith, lord of shadowed forests, only let his trees sigh.
Zepharion, the wandering wind, exhaled broken promises.
Dreigos, the eternal mountain, had no need to rush.
Thus, only six of the twelve gods truly moved their pieces upon the board that night.
Velgrath lifted his hand, fingers of shadow curling to a fist.
"Summon your High Priests. Send our blessings to the armies. The Dark Isle must be sealed. If they want war then let us give them war."
Korthan laughed like thunder.
"At last! Blood and fire once more!"
Nerys bowed her head, the sea’s whispers turning to lament.
"I will drown every ship that dares flee the isle."
Olmerath struck his staff into the space between worlds.
"There will be no escape."
Xynareth lifted her hand, void flowing into a pulsating black orb.
"There are no limits to what we can shape from emptiness."
Zha’gor closed the council, his voice tolling like a funeral bell.
"If this is the beginning, then prepare yourselves. For the end already waits behind the veil."
The heavens of the gods cracked foretelling a war not of men alone, but of gods themselves.