The Children of Grinneal

By Huhuman d' Arena

Foreword

Long before the era of Deoch, before the time of the Aisling and Danaan’s sacrifice; before the time of ancient Hy-brasyl, whose birth ushered in the era of Danaan, and the birth of magic, there existed a civilization. We call them the Aosda, which in the old tongue means ‘ancient ones’. The Aosda referred to themselves as the “Children of Grinneal” – Grinneal being the name they gave our world – but for clarity, I will refer to them as the Aosda.

The Aosdic civilization thrived on this world for over 20,000 years, before vanishing into darkness. The ancient knowledge and wisdom left behind, lost for thousands of years more, was eventually used to resurrect it some 6,000 years later. It survived for another 5,000 years, into the age of Danaan, and the appearance of the tuatha de danann, and then vanished without a trace. Even the great kingdom of Hy-brasyl, the jewel of the old world, had no knowledge regarding its disappearance.

This story originated from a volume that I have in the Library of Loures, a collection of folk tales and legends from ancient Hy-brasyl. It was included by its author, Jaalyn Sarag, in its original tongue, that of the Aosda, in the hopes that the knowledge from the world’s first civilization could live on.

Translation of this legend has been the culmination of my life’s work. With it, it is my hope that the legends and stories of the Children of Grinneal will live on for millennia to come.

– Jean of Loures

1 – Discovery

Luathas the thief lifted his hands and put them above his head.

“Okay, you’ve got me! Don’t hurt me!”, he exclaimed.

The city guard put a rough-gloved hand on his shoulder.

“You’re coming with me, thief”, the guard said. “And don’t try anything funny, or I’ll run you through!”

Luathas shook his head and widened his eyes as if to say, “I would never’”

The guard pointed his spear at Luathas and then motioned with it towards the stairs.

“Nice and easy”, the guard said.

It was an unseasonably warm night for this time of year. Comhal was the capital city of the Aosdan empire, situated fairly centrally on the giant continent that made up Grinneal.

Many of the city’s residents had left their windows and doors ajar, creating the perfect opportunity for an enterprising thief to lay claim to easy pickings. Luathas and his partner Harlan had selected the pawnbroker’s shop as this evening’s mark.

“Did you think you were going to get away with this?”, the guard asked as they made their way upstairs around an L-shaped staircase leading to the main floor of the shop.

“Well, I wouldn’t have attempted it if I thought I wouldn’t, would I?” Luathas responded, quick-witted as ever.

The guard smacked Luathas in the back with the butt end of his spear, roughly. Luathas winced.

Come on Luathas, thought to himself, Where is he?

At the top of the stairs was a narrow path behind the shop’s counter. The counter and shelves were covered with gaudy jewelry and other trinkets, imported cloth and silk, and a few books. While some of it had the look of being expensive, Luathas knew that all of the good stuff was locked away downstairs.

Luathas reached the top of the stairs first, and the guard was right behind him. They began to move around the counter towards the front door.

“Excuse me sir”, came a gravelly voice from behind the two.

The guard turned as if to respond, but before he could, a rock hit him square between the eyes.

Despite wearing a helmet, the guard fell backwards over the counter in a heap.

“Got ‘im!”, the voice, now much more lively, boasted.

Luathas recognized the voice. It was Harlan. He spun about, a sour look on his scruffily-bearded face.

“It took you long enough, you know”, Luathas scolded. “Now let’s get out of here.”

“Did you get it?” Harlan asked, lowering his slingshot, and motioning for Luathas to follow.

“Of course I did!” Luathas replied, patting the pocket in the breast of his overcoat.

“Then let’s get out of here before he comes to”, said Harlan, indicating the guard.

The two made their way out of the pawnbroker’s shop and into the city’s market square. It was the middle of the night, so there was very little activity going on. A few torches burned along the roadway giving some light, but the alleys were like voids. A shadow could slip in and out unnoticed.

Luathas motioned to an alley across the street from the pawnbroker’s shop. Harlan nodded, took a brief look around him, and then made a run for it. Harlan slipped expertly into the shadows, disappearing in seconds. Luathas couldn’t see him anymore. After waiting a few moments, he heard three distinct, but quiet, metallic tones. The coast was clear.

Sprinting into action, Luathas made long, leaping strides between his starting point and the shrouding blackness of the alley. One, two, three, four, and safe.

A slight rustling further down the alley caught his attention.

“We need to keep moving”, Harlan whispered.

Luathas nodded. Harlan was right. The guard he knocked out with the slingshot would only be stunned, and soon every guard in the city would be looking for them. Luathas had no intention of still being there when that happened.

The two continued their stealthy escape down the alley. After what seemed like an hour, they finally reached the easternmost wall of Comhal.

Harlan reached into his bag and pulled out a small grappling hook attached to a length of rope.

“You ready?”, he said, gesturing to the top of the wall with a nod.

“You want me to go first?”, asked Luathas.

“Well yeah, you’re the one with the loot, you go first and I’ll cover your exit”, said Harlan.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

Harlan swung the grappling hook around a few times to get a feel for its weight.  He then took aim at the wall and tossed it high over top of it, landing on the other side with a faint clanging sound. He looked at Luathas and grinned, then pulled the rope taut, catching the hook on the other side of the city wall.

“Up you go”, he said.

Luathas grabbed a hold of the rope and within seconds had reached the top of the wall. He looked quickly to his left, then to his right, making sure he hadn’t been seen. The coast was clear. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small copper file and a tiny metal hammer.

Three taps he thought to himself, means the coast is clear.

He began tapping the file with the mallet, creating the same tone as he had heard before.

One, two, th–

“Hey, you there! Don’t move!”, came a voice from the bottom of the wall.

“Hey, hey, it’s- I surrender!”, said Harlan, sounding desperate.


Luathas spun about and carefully approached the edge of the wall he had just climbed over. Peeking over the top, he saw the scene below unfolding.


Harlan was surrounded. Four armed guards had trained their spears on him, and torchlight from several other sources was quickly approaching.

“I surrender!” Harlan shouted again. He put his hands up in the air. “It’s just me!”

Luathas understood what was happening. Harlan was giving him time to escape.

Taking one last look at his friend, Luathas turned and bolted. Running along the parapets atop the city wall, he began searching for an escape route. The rope had to be left behind so he’d have to find a tower or some stairs – some way down.

After a few hundred yards, he came to a guard tower. Torchlight could be seen through its windows and voices could be heard inside. Luathas searched desperately for another option.

Looking over the east side of the wall, he saw trees about 20 feet below.

Just as he noticed the trees below, he heard the door to the guard tower opening up. Torchlight spilled out of the doorway like a beam of sunlight piercing the darkness.

What do I do, what do I do?

Silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Someone was coming this way.

No time left to think!

Luathas jumped deftly atop the edge of the wall. He took one last look back at the city behind him, and then leapt over the side and into the night.

2 – Repentance

The Palace of Justice was a large stone structure built by the first Aosdan architects at the dawn of the Second Aeon. There, an Adjudicator would stand in judgment of those who had violated Aosdic law.

The Adjudicator was typically a scholar hand-picked by the Aosdic council, who were themselves among the most wise and learned scholars and sages of ancient Aosda. Led by a Grand Scholar, Aosdic society held these individuals in reverence, as it was through their studies and their teachings that the ancient Aosdic civilization was formed.

Standing opposite of the University, where the Aosdic council held its meetings, the Palace of Justice was modest by comparison. Whereas the University was an artistic marvel of Aosdic architectural design and achievement, the Palace of Justice was a series of roughly-cut stone slabs stacked upon one another. Rather than being lit by reflected sunlight through a system of mirrors like the University, it was lit by torches. The two buildings, while easily the most important in all of Comhal, could not be more diametrically opposed.

Despite its primitive appearance, the Palace of Justice possessed an aura of importance. Although no Aosda had ever killed another, those who were found guilty of violating Aosdic law were permanently exiled to the frozen northern region known as Kadath.

None ever returned.

---

“Harlan of River’s Bend, you stand accused of burglary, attacking a member of the city guard, and attempting to escape justice”, the Adjudicator’s voice rang out, as though amplified somehow. “What say you in response to these charges?”

Harlan was dressed in beige prisoner’s clothes, his hands bound before him in chains, his legs shackled. He appeared as though he hadn’t eaten in days. His skin hung loose on his bones. His shoulders slumped. The city guards didn’t take kindly to the slingshot attack on their friend, and it showed.

He stood in the center of a massive chamber within the central hall of the Palace of Justice, in a recessed floor area. Towards the front of the room sat the Adjudicator, flanked by guards. Arrayed out behind him in a semi-circle, opposite the Adjudicator, was the public seating area where members of the viewing public could attend to view the proceedings.

Luathas watched from his vantage point in the far corner of the public seating area. He was confident that the guard who saw him four nights ago would not be in attendance, and no one else could possibly recognize him. Still, he remained as inconspicuous as possible. Harlan’s back was turned to him. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to get his attention.

Luathas turned his gaze to the front and center of the room and set his eyes on the Adjudicator.

The Adjudicator was an elderly Aosdic scholar whose age was indeterminable, but was likely several centuries old at least. Like most of the scholars, age had turned what little hair remained on his head white. His long beard reached down well below his waist. He wore the ceremonial garb of the Adjudicator: orange robes adorned with intricate gold trim and, over the top, a grey overcoat with a high collar. In his left hand he wielded an iron sphere roughly the size of a fist, embossed with a trader’s scales – the symbol of his office. He was seated behind a black stone desk atop a grand stage, elevated above the rest in attendance. Flags bearing the same symbol as the iron orb adorned the walls to either side of him. Even seated, he was an imposing figure.

Harlan muttered something into his chest. It was too difficult to make out.

“Repeat yourself”, commanded the Adjudicator. Although he appeared to be of great age, his voice still had the steel-like quality of a man in his prime.

“I said, I admit my guilt”, said Harlan, hoarsely, as he lifted his head to make eye contact with the Adjudicator.

“A witness testified that you were not acting alone. Who was your accomplice?” asked the Adjudicator.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just me”, answered Harlan, not breaking eye contact.

“Where are the goods that you stole?”, the Adjudicator questioned. “When you were captured, they were not found on your person.”

“I don’t know. I must have dropped them somewhere during my escape”, Harlan replied, eyes still locked with the Adjudicator.

The Adjudicator furrowed his brow. Despite Harlan’s performance, he knew he was being lied to.

“If you tell me who your accomplice is, your punishment will be less severe”, the Adjudicator promised.

“It was just me”, Harlan said, without hesitating.

“So be it”, said the Adjudicator, with a finality that seemed ominous.

He stroked his beard in contemplation for a moment and then wrote something down. After he finished writing he looked back at Harlan, whose gaze had not moved. He rose to his feet.

“Harlan of River’s Bend”, he began, his voice booming like thunder. “It is the judgment of this court that without possibility of reprieve or parole, you be taken from this place to the frozen wastelands of Kadath. There, you shall spend the rest of your natural life in exile.”

The Adjudicator slammed the iron orb on the desk, causing sparks to fly from it, the final “stamp” drawing the procedure to a conclusion.

Harlan still hadn’t broken his gaze. Two guards emerged behind him, each grabbing one of his arms. Acting as one, they lifted and carried him away, forcing him to break eye contact with the Adjudicator as they began to take him into the Palace catacombs. The Adjudicator turned and left the main hall of the Palace of Justice. Those in attendance, previously showing respect and deference to the Adjudicator, now began loudly jeering at Harlan as the guards took him away.

Throughout it all, Luathas sat there, silently weeping on the inside, but daring not to show his emotions lest he draw suspicion onto himself. Harlan had accepted punishment for himself in order to save Luathas from sharing that fate. It was a sacrifice that both had agreed to make if the worst-case scenario occurred, which it did. And while Luathas knew that had the roles been reversed, he would have done the same, he still couldn’t help but feel remorse for his friend’s capture and subsequent exile.

Luathas spent the rest of that day laying low in Comhal. It had been several days since the heist, but it was his first time back in the city since then. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he spent the day hiding out in a storm culvert.  When night came, he slipped out the east gate and made his way towards a familiar tree.

After a few hundred yards, he happened upon the tree that he blindly lept into during his escape, the tree that broke his fall.  He approached it cautiously, looking about as he did so for signs of movement or anything to indicate it had been disturbed.

Nothing. It looked safe.

About halfway up the tree, there was a knot filled with leaves and other debris. Luathas reached into the knot and began rustling around. After a few seconds, he withdrew his hand which now held a small leather-bound package. He neatly slipped the package into the pocket of his overcoat and headed back the way he came.

After sneaking past the lone guard at the east gate, he entered the city and went to find somewhere to sleep for the night.

3 – Ascension

“Hey buddy you okay there?”, came a voice.

Luathas was startled awake. He didn’t mean to sleep this deeply.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” he said, clearing his throat, “Fine.”

He looked around. Finding accommodation late at night was impossible, so he ended up finding a quiet corner of a stable, pulled his hood up over his head, and rested his eyes. At first it was terribly uncomfortable, which is why he thought he wouldn’t sleep so deeply. Nevertheless, the stablehand got the drop on him.

He looked at Luathas expectantly, as if demanding an explanation.

Gotta think of a way to avoid suspicion, he thought to himself.

“Must have gotten a little carried away last night; my wife sent me to go sleep it off with the other animals!”, he lied. The stablehand appeared satisfied, albeit a tad disgusted, and gestured towards the door.

Phew.

That morning Luathas left the city again, and after a few hours of walking along the main road, ventured off and into the countryside. There, once he was sure he hadn’t been followed, he found a quiet spot to sit down, and pulled the leather-bound package out of the pocket of his overcoat. It was still neatly wrapped, with the binding tied in a tight bow. Placing it down in front of him, he rubbed his hands together and then carefully untied the binding.

Inside was a thin book bound in red leather. Various gold leaf designs adorned both the front and the back of the cover, and a single blue four-faceted gem was attached to the front of it. The gem was unnaturally cool to the touch.

This is what we did all of that planning for? Luathas wondered to himself. A damn book?

Harlan claimed he had been told by a “trusted source” that something of great importance was being held at the pawnbroker’s shop and that the pawnbroker had no idea of its true value.

Should have known better than to trust some drunk’s boasting. Oh well. At least the gem might be worth something.

Luathas began trying to pick away at the gem with his fingernail, in an attempt to pry it away from the book’s cover. Rather than pop free, as he expected, the leather binding seemed to stretch with it.

That’s odd. I’ll find a way to cut it off later then.

Frustrated, Luathas opened the book to see what its contents were.

Inside the cover was a single phrase, written in what appeared to be relatively new ink.

It read:

“To you who have found this tome, know that alongside the path to ascension is the path to madness.”

He knew that he should put the book down and walk away right then and there. He knew that there were some things in this life that you do not mess with, and strange books from unknown sources with strange unremovable gems on them rank pretty high among them.

Perhaps it was desperation. Harlan did end up getting captured and exiled over this thing. Or maybe it was his rebellious nature. Maybe it was the fact that the phrase read more like a challenge than a warning. Or maybe it was something else.

Whatever the case was, against his better judgment, Luathas turned the page and began to read.

4. Premonition

Grand Scholar Finach sat at his desk in his office at the University. It was a large, marble slab, adorned with carvings and various precious minerals. He thought the whole thing was positively gaudy.

So many things about this life I won’t miss.

The Grand Scholar was preparing to undergo the rite of Ascension. During the rite, the Grand Scholar would shed his mortal form, and utilizing the experience and knowledge he had gained in life, he would ascend and become something greater. It was a process that had only been attempted once before, but with disastrous results for the subject.

The poor soul who had attempted ascension before, a previous Grand Scholar, was driven mad by the whispers of the frozen northlands of Kadath, where the rite of Ascension must take place. After ascending, his mortal form was annihilated, the darkness that had seeped into his mind took control, and his spirit became irrevocably lost to it.

This time will be different, the Grand Scholar thought to himself.

He was certain he possessed the discipline required to keep the madness of Kadath at bay. He was certain that he, now aware of the danger, could prepare for it. He had spent centuries studying Kadath. He knew more than any mortal being about the darkness that existed within. He would defeat it. He had foreseen it.

The Grand Scholar was an Augur – a person gifted with the gift of foresight. Throughout his life, he had been granted glimpses into the future, glimpses that guided him to this point.

On this night, the Grand Scholar was attempting one final vision before setting forth for Kadath.

I need to know.

Finach rose from his desk. He was a tall man, and while he had the same age-whitened hair that all of the scholars possessed, he still had a full head of it, and a neatly-kept beard. He approached the cabinet opposite his desk, the place he kept his divination tools.

Removing a half-melted blue candle, a taper, and a small white feather from the cabinet, he closed it shut and reset the latch. He then walked over to the hearth at the other end of his office and lit the taper before returning to his desk. Using the lit taper, he ignited the candle. The wax began to sizzle slightly.

Grand Scholar Finach closed his eyes and began to meditate. His well-trained mind went through a series of exercises, each progressively bringing him into a deeper meditative state. After reaching the desired level of meditation, he willed his hand to place the feather over the flame.

The flames tickled up slowly, just out of reach of the feather. It began to wither, ever so slightly at first, but quickly began to shrivel up, and then suddenly burst into flames.

Finach exhaled, his breath fueling the flames, which consumed the feather in an instant, leaving nothing but floating bits of ash.

One heartbeat…

A golden city, sparkling in the sun. It shines brighter and brighter until-

Two heartbeats…

A shadow burning in the darkness; it is consumed with grief

Three heartbeats…

8 figures stand together and push back against the void.

Four heartbeats…

Finach opened his eyes.

Blinking a few times to reorient himself, Finach took a deep breath. The vision was sudden and jarring, but it was over. In the span of a few moments, he had seen everything he needed to see. Finach snuffed out the candle and returned it to the cabinet from where it came. Pacing about his office for a few moments, he gathered his thoughts, cleared his throat, and called out for his assistant.

He knew what he had to do.

5. Resolution

It had been weeks since Luathas first read what he discovered to be titled, “The Tome of Ascension”. Its author’s name wasn’t included, but he surmised that it was most likely a scholar who had closely studied the rite of Ascension and possibly even attempted it.

Although the first two-thirds of the text was completely legible, much of the tome’s latter pages were little more than incoherent rambling. Clearly, the warning about madness was not just for shock value.

Reading through the tome, Luathas was able to discover the author’s notes on the rite of Ascension. The ascendant, upon accumulating great knowledge and experience, would venture to Kadath, to the peak of the highest mountain, and begin the ascension ritual. There, after making a sacrifice to the Earth-Sea gods of Kadath, they would be judged, and if found worthy, the ascendant would shed their mortal form in a brilliant flash of light. They would then stand before the Earth-Sea gods, who would grant toiseach – powers commensurate with their accumulated life’s experience – and the ascendant would be reborn as a being of immense vitality and knowledge; a god in their own right.

The volume continued to elaborate on the inner workings of the ascension process. It is suggested that the name of a god, in and of itself, is a word of power. An ascendant’s “god-name” is granted to them by the Earth-Sea gods, with each name created during the ascension ritual and etched on the altar of their “rebirth”. It is this name through which supplicants may invoke the ascendant’s power, and which forms the basis of their status as a deity.

It was at this point the tome’s author began to speak of darkness within Kadath that clawed at his mind. Although it appeared he wrote the name of this darkness down, it was quite literally scratched out of the pages. Beyond this point, the author writes merely gibberish, and the rest of it is indecipherable.

Well, maybe it was worth something, after all, Luathas thought to himself, closing the cover. Maybe after I find Harlan, we can put this knowledge to good use.

Luathas was seated on a rock near a stream just outside of Cthon, the northernmost city in the Aosdic empire. Cthon was much smaller than Comhal, and the people were a lot friendlier, which made tracking the gaolers transporting Harlan to Kadath a lot easier. He had tracked them for weeks, but they had a significant head start, and horses to boot.

Luathas looked to the north and for the first time, he could make out the peaks. Their icy tips looked almost ghostly in the distance, like the maw of some great beast laying open, ready to snap shut on him. The watchman back in Cthon said that was the direction the gaoler’s wagon went.

He stood up, dusted himself off, and slipped the book inside his overcoat pocket. He then pulled his cloak tighter around himself and began pushing onward toward Kadath.

I’m coming for you, Harlan. Just hold on.

---

Finach emerged from the carriage and looked up. Clouds as black as smoke swirled overhead, blocking out the sun. A thunderstorm was forming.

Ah well, maybe I will miss some things.

Finach looked to the north, to the tallest peak off in the distance. It was there that he would make his ascension. There, his ingenuity and inspiration would be shared with all of the people of Aosda. He would ascend and become a god of wisdom and logic, to lead his people into a new era of prosperity.

“Grand Scholar”, came a voice from the front of the carriage. “We have reached as far as the terrain will allow us. From here on out, we must travel by foot.”

The voice belonged to Laidh, his man-at-arms. Finach recruited Laidh from among the city guard of Comhal approximately 30 years prior, after witnessing him save a group of children from an angry and confused bull that had escaped from the market. The act of heroism notwithstanding, the thing that had impressed Finach the most was the fact that Laidh had been able to do so without killing the bull. He knew then that he wanted a man like that to serve as his protector – a protector that knew how to do his job without taking a life.

Finach looked now at the man at the head of his carriage. Laidh was a tall and imposing figure. His hair was kept short, and while it contained a fair amount of grey, it still had a hint of its original black in places. A neatly-kept beard framed his square jaw, and his brown eyes suggested an intelligence that was belied by his great size.

Standing nearly seven feet tall, Laidh was a giant of a man, with arms like steel cables. Even though he was older now, he still moved with the speed and grace of the man he was thirty years prior.

“I’m not the Grand Scholar anymore, Laidh”, said Finach. He had resigned from the office prior to leaving for Kadath. His replacement would be selected by the Aosdic council in the weeks to follow.

“You will always be the Grand Scholar to me, sir”, replied Laidh.

Finach merely smiled. He valued Laidh’s loyalty more than any title. Taking a look at the mountains arrayed out before him, he knew what had to come next.

“I must make the rest of this journey on my own, my friend”, Finach said, after a slight pause.

“Grand Scholar, I’m afraid I must insist that I stay by your side”, began Laidh. “The wildlife in this part of the world is nothing to be trifled with. And then the rumors…” he said, as his voice trailed off. It was true. Great winter wolves were known to inhabit the frozen north of Kadath. And as for the rumors; Finach knew that they were more than just rumors.

“No, old friend. I dare not lose you to the darkness within. I must go alone”, Finach said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Laidh stood his ground for a moment longer and then nodded in assent.

“I know better than to argue with you”, he admitted.

Laidh dismounted the carriage and stood before Finach. Removing the gauntlet from his right hand, he extended it, and Finach returned the gesture. The two men met eyes and shook hands.

“Serving you has been an honor and a privilege”, Laidh told Finach.

“The honor was mine”, said Finach. He paused briefly, and then continued, “I now release you from my service. Return to Comhal and serve the new Grand Scholar as you have served me.”

“I will”, Laidh assured him.

With that, Laidh climbed back aboard the carriage and snapped the reins. The horses began to trot away, and the carriage creaked away.

Finach watched as the carriage disappeared over the horizon. Only then did he turn and begin his trek towards Kadath, and its highest peak: Kedarnath.

6. Fiosachd

The remains of the overturned gaoler’s wagon loomed up ahead, still smoldering.

I’m too late, Luathas thought to himself.

As he approached the debris field though, the first thing that was apparent was that there were no bodies. No evidence anybody was still in the wagon when it was struck.

Harlan could still be alive.

The gaoler’s wagon had been blasted, as though struck by lightning. Twisted bits of metal poked out every which way, and the outer edge of the debris field was littered with shrapnel.

Looking for any signs of the wagon’s occupants, Luathas searched the area. A footprint, a scuff-mark – anything that would suggest a direction of escape. Unfortunately, it was pointless, he realized quickly. The high winds coupled with the blast disturbing the ground surrounding it made tracking impossible.

Luathas sighed in frustration. The remnants of the cart were still warm, giving off smoke; with the high winds and the frigid air temperature, that meant that the occupants couldn’t be far. Without a direction of travel with which to track them though, he would quickly lose them again.

Alright think; you’re Harlan, you’ve just escaped from the wagon and you’re making a break for it. Where do you go?

Luathas looked around for answers.

Ahead of him, in the middle of the dirt road, was the remains of the wagon. On either side of the road, a rough, pockmarked landscape stretched on for miles. No obvious hiding spots.

No; Harlan wouldn’t leave himself exposed out in the open like that.

He set his eyes forward, further down the road. A mountain, with a peak standing high above all other peaks in the area, lay before him, the road leading to a path up to its southeasternmost face.

The gaolers must have abandoned the wagon on the road and left on foot. That’s why there were no bodies. Luathas took a look back at the wagon, and then a look at the landscape.

One brief glance overhead told him everything he needed to know; the clouds overhead had an ominous black hue. The kind of weather system that never left the area.

They must have tried to find shelter from the storm in those mountains.

Now acutely aware of the danger of standing around, Luathas took one final look around him and began heading further down the path towards Kedarnath.

---

The trail leading up the side of Kedarnath was said to have been built by the very first Earth-Sea gods, whose journey to the peak is symbolized by the rite of Ascension. Those undertaking the pilgrimage will find an altar at the peak of Kedarnath, in which a sacrifice must be offered to the Earth-Sea gods.

As Luathas made his way up the trail, he noticed various landmarks that he recalled being illustrated in the Tome of Ascension. The author had definitely been here before.

Four sets of footprints.

Luathas knelt down to get a closer look.  It looked like they were fresh. One set appeared to be slightly older than the other three. Those three appeared to be side-by-side.

Was Harlan being pursued?

Luathas followed the tracks. He knew he was getting close.

The path now began to turn back on itself, in a series of switchbacks. The older set of tracks now appeared to be accompanied by a walking stick of some kind. The other three remained in lock step with one another.

Was Harlan injured? Luathas broke into a run. If Harlan was injured, he thought to himself, I won’t have any way to get him down from here.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of running, he heard the scrape of a boot ahead. Then another. The rhythm was odd, seeming almost like a cadence stuck in a loop. Cautiously, Luathas pushed himself up against the rock face of the mountain and crept silently towards the source of the sound.

Peering around the corner of the switchback going further up the mountain, he caught a glimpse of what stood ahead of him. There, flanked on either side by one of the gaolers, was Harlan; only something seemed off. Luathas continued to observe.

As though commanded by a single mind, all three of the figures ahead of him lifted their left foot in unison, stepped forward, and then did the same with their right foot. Step. Step. Step. Step. Over and over again. Perfectly in unison every time.

Luathas’ heart sank. What dark fate had befallen his friend?

“Harlan!”, he called out. Harlan and the gaolers continued as though they hadn’t heard.

Luathas sprinted towards his friend, continuing to call out his name. As he drew closer he felt the temperature of the air grow noticeably chill. A thin, faintly-visible shadow surrounded all three of the figures ahead. Rather than individually, the shadow seemed to envelop them as a whole.

As he drew closer, Luathas thought he could hear laughing, but couldn’t place the location of the sound.

Finally, he was standing right behind Harlan. He reached out for his friend, to grab him by the shoulder. “Harlan!”, he yelled at his friend, as he tried to turn him around. Yet try as he may, Harlan wouldn’t budge. He just kept walking. Stepping in unison with his former captors. Slowly, methodically, but incessantly.

Luathas looked around in desperation. Where are they going? he wondered.

Remembering what the Tome of Ascension told him about this place, and knowing what he would find at the top, Luathas decided to push past Harlan and the gaolers.

They must be going to the peak; but why?

Then he realized what he had almost forgotten:

The fourth set of footprints. They’re going after whoever that is up there.

Luathas charged ahead.

Almost there!

---

Standing before the altar at the peak of Kedarnath, Finach reached into the pouch on his belt.

“Gods of Earth-Sea, hear my call”, he recited, beginning the final steps of the ritual. “I stand before you to ask you for an audience. For this, I offer proof of my heroism as a tribute to you!”

Finach removed his hand from his pouch and held what appeared to be a strand of silken thread. Deep purple in color, it possessed an almost translucent quality. Holding it over the altar, Finach released it, and it fluttered down into the altar.

As it contacted the altar’s surface, the strand shimmered and then disappeared.

Finach turned and lifted his hands to the sky. The time of his ascension was at hand.

As the clouds overhead began to swirl, and the sound of thunder began to echo across the land, Finach looked to the path that led him to the peak of Kedarnath, and for a brief moment, saw a figure slip from one shadow to the next. Before he could react to it, though, a lightning bolt struck.

---

Luathas watched in horror as a great bolt of lightning vaporized the figure that was standing mere feet in front of him just moments ago.

It was a short-lived feeling, however, as, after the initial shock of watching someone disappear before one’s eyes wore off, he realized what it was that he had just witnessed.


Someone has just ascended.

As the dust settled, Luathas observed what appeared to be a shimmering, luminescent orb forming on the altar. The orb appeared to be beating, like a heart, and with each “heartbeat”, the orb grew slightly in size.

I am witnessing the birth of a god, he realized.

His eyes then drifted below the altar, where he saw for the first time a name had been etched beneath it, on a slab.

“Fiosachd”, he said, as he read the name aloud to himself.

Moments later there was a bright flash, searing heat, and then… nothing.

7. Luathas

The dust settled around the altar atop Kedarnath, as the orb contained in it continued to grow. With each growth, it began to take on the form of a biped more and more, first growing two arms, two legs, and eventually a head.

Off to the side of the altar, where Luathas had been standing when the lightning hit, a second orb appeared. Like the previous orb, this one too shimmered and pulsated, growing with each successive beat.

A scraping sound drew closer. Three steps, marching in unison, now accompanied by the sound of otherworldly laughter. Harlan and the gaolers were near.

As the laughter drew closer, the first orb, approaching man-like proportions, began to stand upright, and tiny cracks appeared on its surface.

Step. Step. Step. The trio had reached the summit.

Step. Step. Step. They walked right past the orb left behind by Luathas as if they didn’t see it.

Step. Step. Step. They now stood in front of the ascended form of Finach. Tendrils of darkness swirled around them, reaching out with a thousand hands at the fragile chrysalis of the newly-born god. As they made contact, they each appeared to bore into the surface of the chrysalis. The inside, once illuminated by a brilliant white light, began to glow a sickly yellow color.

Behind them, the second orb now stood upright. Like the other, cracks appeared on the surface of the chrysalis. Then, with a brilliant flash of light, the chrysalis shattered.

Standing in its place stood a tall, lithe figure. While still bearing the resemblance of the Aosda named Luathas, this new being appeared older, wiser, and somehow ‘more’. Draped in the same grey overcoat as Luathas had worn, the figure stepped forward. The darkness from Harlan and the gaolers finally took notice and reached out toward him.

“I am Fiosachd”, he stated matter-of-factly, his voice amplified by an otherworldly source of power. He set eyes on the trio approaching him. With a wave of his hand, a shriek erupted from all three of them in unison. As the darkness rippled and roiled around them, it took on a jagged, violent appearance and began to reach out towards Fiosachd.

Another brilliant flash of light accompanied the second chrysalis’ shattering. The peak of Kedarnath trembled.

Where the chrysalis had been standing now stood a being that seemed to radiate an inner light of its own. The robes, similar in design to those worn in his mortal life, shifted through all colors of the spectrum, from green to orange, to blue, and all points in between. Much like Fiosachd, this being appeared very much like his mortal self, but somehow much more.

Now surrounded on both sides by two deities, the darkness knew it had no choice but to retreat or risk being destroyed. Shrieking, laughing, mocking voices erupted from it. Although they said nothing, in particular, a single, awful word stood out above all others: Chadul.

The darkness then retreated from the three men that it had taken possession of, and seeped into the ground, like a filthy oil slick. Within moments, it had vanished. The three men it left behind fell to the ground, unconscious.

Fiosachd, the god of luck and stealth, patron of Rogues, looked across the summit, at his colleague who had yet to speak.

“I took something of yours”, he said, jovially. “Do you want it back?”

“No”, came the simple reply. “It was never mine, to begin with.”

Fiosachd met his eyes and nodded. He finally understood. This name was always his.

“What are you going to call yourself, then, brother?” Fiosachd asked.

“I was thinking of Luathas. If you’re finished using it, that is.”

Fiosachd smiled and then nodded his head in agreement.

“Then so be it. From this day forward, I shall be known as Luathas. God of divine knowledge, patron of scholars.”

The two gods then turned their attention to the three fallen men. Although they had driven away from the darkness that had saturated them, once exposed to it, the darkness had permanently stained the men’s spirits.

Fiosachd approached the fallen form of Harlan. Although he still lived, the man he knew as his friend would never be the same again. Luathas came to stand beside him.

“We cannot change what has transpired”, Luathas began. “The darkness that touched his spirit will leave a madness that even our power cannot break. Fear not though, brother. I have foreseen a time when eight of us will stand together against the darkness, and prevail. On that day, all of those claimed by this darkness – all of those claimed by Chadul – will be free.”

“Until that day, we will safeguard those who have been afflicted with this darkness”, Fiosachd said.

Fiosachd placed his hand on Harlan’s chest. A thin layer of crystal began to form around Harlan, growing thicker as Fiosachd held his hand in place. After a few moments, Harlan’s body was fully encased in a crystalline vessel. He repeated the process for the other two gaolers.

After that was completed, he took each crystal in his hands, and as he did so, they began to shrink in size, until they reached the size of a small coin. Placing each of the gems carefully in his belt pouch, Fiosachd indicated to Luathas that he was ready to leave.

The two gods took one final look at Kadath, and with a gesture of his hand, Luathas transported them away.

8. Epilogue

Luathas sat in a chamber much like his office when he held the title of Grand Scholar and awaited the arrival of his guest.

The passage of time is different for a deity; even the lifetime of an Aosdic scholar can go by in the blink of an eye. Hundreds of years had passed since his ascension. Over the years, he and Fiosachd had drifted apart, and it had been over a century since he had seen him last.

Luathas turned his attention to his latest work; a collection of stories to be given to the great library of Comhal. As he wrote, he felt a slight breeze roll through the chamber. Not taking his eyes off the page, he continued writing, even though he felt the presence of another god enter the room.

“So you finally made it”, he remarked, continuing to write.

“Hello, old friend.”

The voice was familiar, but only slightly; the speaker had a divine presence behind it now.

Luathas continued writing for a few moments longer, and then sat his pen on the desk. Tenting his hands together, he looked up at his guest, seeing him for the first time as an ascendant.

The robes were still the same. And the hair. The same bald head.

Why did he choose to keep it like that? he chuckled to himself.

“So what do we call you now, Adjudicator?” he asked.

The guest smiled slightly.

“Call me Gramail.”

REFERENCES

The following works were referenced in the creation of this entry:

“Timeline of Temuair” (Author unknown)

((http://loureslibrary.aisling-spark.de/his/timeline.html))

“Grinneal – Beginning” (Author: Aeife)

((http://loureslibrary.aisling-spark.de/his/aeife_grinneal.html))

“The Book of the Black Cow” (Author: Maerista)

((http://loureslibrary.aisling-spark.de/his/maerista_blackcow.html))

“Shadows of Aosda” (Author: Napie)

((http://loureslibrary.aisling-spark.de/his/napie_aosda.html))

Thank you Ailred, Moogle, Laurier and everyone else that helped with proof-reading!