Journal Entry #87: Hell [Text RP]

The touch of undeath was unmistakable to Aniks, Champion of Pharasma. Especially from his wife - if, that is, this ghostly apparition of her was truly her.
 
Her first two attempts to do something to him had faltered against his protections - for the dead cannot so easily harm Pharasma's chosen. Yet any confidence this wrought must have been fleeting. In a heartbeat of a moment, a brief pause as the battle raged around them in the darkened dining hall, a ghostly hand lay against Aniks's arm - and before he could attempt to resist, he felt Silver jolt in his hand and an unfathomable weight settle over his mind.
 
He awoke to darkness, pierced only by the pale glow of Silver's blade. The ground was hard beneath him, and though Life Bubble protected him from the choking smog in the air, the smog was still there. Wherever he was seemed to be characterised by black dirt, blacker smog, and endless magical darkness.
 
His mark was active. Cooler than usual, too. Enough to be noticeable. Whatever had happened in the moment he could not remember, it had drawn Pharasma's attention.
 
Hey. Hey! Wake the fuck up!
 
Not entirely alone, then, even if the voice yelling was just Silver.
 
For the first time in a very long time, Aniks couldn’t see in the dark which was very strange for somebody born underground. The dark elf sorted through his thoughts quickly as lifting himself off the pitch-black ground sog drifting around his body from the motion. No, he hadn’t died, Aniks usually is in Boneyard when that happened. Something else had happened to get Pharasma’s attention. Was it the shard that did this, that voice wanting to test Aniks in another? Or was it the phantasmal version of Celu he had been fighting? Multiple influences?
Then there was Silver with their strange pale glow, and that jolt right before everything went black. Something was off about that, that heaviness on his mind only lasted seconds but… Silver how long was I out?
 
Oh sure I'll check my watch and find out! sassed the sword. It's been ages! Why'd you go and collapse like that? And where the hell are we, anyway?
 
Hell if I know, probably displaced in some within the Palace." Silently Aniks moved through the smog, leaving Silver pointed down incase the ground changed. He wasn't too keen on dispelling the darkness and revealing where he was to others just yet." I was touched some ethereal hand, something happened to you in my hand then everything just got heavy and black. Celu's not going to be happy about this.
Oh, yeah, that was the ghost chick! She just kinda darted out all weird and you went all weird and we got zooped over here. Doesn't feel like a palace, not gonna lie. Feels pretty big. You sure we're not visiting Death again? The ground, as dark and rough as it was, seemed to be sloping upwards in this choking, almost volcanic smog. It was rough, too, a thick layer of what he could now tell was volcanic rock and ash jutting up in twisted patterns.
 
No...we're not in her realm. Eyes squinting after if searching for something, then feeling that disconnect Aniks muttered a curse in abyssal. The dark elf squatted down really looking at the ground for the first time. Finger tips touching the rock they had been plane shifted but where? Any idea what happened to you, you're glowing. Last time I checked, you absorb light.
 
It was more to keep the conversation going as he tried to figure out where they had landed. Few realms popped into his head but nothing set in stone. Anything to avoid the panic that might set in knowing his elf wasn't by his side and neck deep in a battle against a shard. (edited)
Well yeah, gotta release the light sometimes, y'know. Was Silver being serious or not? It was always so hard to tell. Guess this place is just weird. Hey, you think there's anyone else around?
 
Aniks was well-educated in planar matters - through studies, through magic, through tutoring, and through his extensive personal experience. The current plane could fit multiple descriptions, in theory. All three of the lower planes and the First World could all greatly resemble this - and perhaps the Shadow Plane, too.
 
But it was never too hard to identify a plane, not when you were knowledgeable. The silence was oppressive and domineering. The darkness and the smog were thick and choking, but they were straightforward in their behaviour. Things behaved as they should, and nothing had tried to eat Aniks's soul yet.
 
Perhaps Silver had been right on the money with 'where the hell are we'. Aniks could almost certainly suspect that he was in the depths of Hell - though identifying the exact layer would be somewhat more challenging.
 
There was a mental impression of Aniks rolling his eyes. Picking up a lump of loose volcanic rock he used that 'light' to look at it more closely At least your not blinding me with it.
 
Then a moment of silent as the drow looked into the smog, the darkness, and finally back to the ground. Shit...I'd rather be in the Abyss. We're in Hell.
 
The sword whistled in Aniks's mind. Weeeell that's fun! Wonder whereabouts? You been here before?
 
The ground beneath their feet continued to lead up.
 
One step after another, Aniks moved forward through the shifting smog of darkness. Not that I've aware of, despite a demigod saying otherwise...
 
Aniks ran through everything he knew about Hell's layers, far less than what he knew about the Abyss. It's not Cocytus or Malebolge, to open to be Erebus, leaving six. It's this Darkness that make it hard to tell where we are.
 
Aniks kept walking.
 
Why do you hang out with so many gods anyway? It's kinda weird, bro. This was, of course, a perfect time to bring that up.
Far above them, through the darkness, a flickering light - orange, like fire - pierced the darkness.
 
I choose to believe they like my sparkly personality when I bartend. Never before had he put so much sarcasm into a though but continued with a less sarcastic answer. It's not like I'm actively trying be around gods, given how many tried to champion me I doubt I could ever get away from them.
 
Aniks steps become careful the closer he came to that light. To avoid being blinded when stepping into the light Aniks pulled his hood up. His grip on Silver tighten the closer the dark elf got to that orange color.
 
Man, why're they caring so much? Someone got a stake in your soul or something? Wild. The sword didn't seem perturbed by the sarcasm. Just kept being a sword that could talk into his mind.
 
The light was not the sort that could blind Aniks - in fact, the closer he got, the easier it was to see what it was. Wings, massive and leathery, lit by fire - wings that seemed to belong to something especially large. The being was evidently facing away from Aniks, but he could make out its tail and horns, and could see a number of other shapes around it.
 
He wasn't alone, then.
 
What had Silver said? The drow had stopped his approach when he noticed more than just the source of that orange light. Aniks had heard something about about gods, as he watched those smaller figures around that large flame clad devil. But his attention was clearly somewhere else. There was something to be learned from these Devils but Silver could be very instantiated when speaking.
 
Right the god's interest in himself. That line of questioning was weird from the blade. Ask pharasma, but you'll probably get a cryptic answer when I asked something similar. As for my soul...it might be interesting to them.
 
Silver, as ever, seemed to just be fucking with him. The blade continued down that track. Oh yeah, I'll get right on that! You think swords can pray? I'll dedicate the next thing you hit to her or something. Why's your soul interesting? Other than your special powers.
 
Whatever Silver was saying seemed.. somewhat irrelevant, though, given Aniks's spark of recognition for what he was watching. That-- that was a pit fiend, one of Hell's most powerful creatures. The fleshy lemure devils around it, it could innately shape into others - like the two erinyes that bowed at whatever order they were given, the hooded uniila that watched in silence, or the dragon-winged immolation devil that had an armoured apostate devil clutched in one claw - preventing it from speaking, it seemed. These were.. powerful foes.
 
The conversation was in Infernal, somewhat obviously. The pit fiend seemed annoyed, sending the erinyes flitting away to search for it, and turned to the uniila. "You two are the failures here. Run back to your masters and tell them of your failure. Our lords do not need to have their time wasted." The smaller devil nodded silently, fading out - teleporting away, as bidden. The apostate devil made to do the same, but the larger immolation devil shook it for the attempt, and the pit fiend barked a laugh. "You have yet to corrupt their master and yet you attempt to serve their bidding? Weaklings are not welcome in this realm!"
 
A sharp slash of deadly claws, and only the pit fiend, the immolation devil, and their small horde of lemures remained. The immolation devil dropped the remains for the lemures to swarm around. "This is your favour repaid, then. What a minor inconvenience."
 
The fiend grunted a shower of sparks. "Our contract comes to a close. If they had been competent, we would have a host of demons at our service."
 
"A shame - and in the Lord Belial's absence, too." The immolation devil made a shrugging motion. "Perhaps they relied on his patronage."
"They have no such contract. This was their own initiative to fail so miserably. Pathetic."
 
Aniks seemed to have gone unnoticed, for now.
 
The study of the silent. Aniks could almost hear his mother’s words as they bubbled up from his subconscious. When faced with overwhelming odds during an assignment, study silently to increase survival and killing potential. It was how even at a young age, he had killed a lesser matron (despite his capture shortly after due to his siblings.) Even on a surface level, Aniks knew he was watching a ripple effect from the Shard’s binding on teleportation but there was more there. It was out of a morbid curiosity that let him think on these things for even a moment. The idea of infernal deals leading to devils having demons under their command was horrifying. His main focus was an attempt to sift throught the Devil words to again gain a better understanding of where he was.
 
His hand gripped tightly around the dusky purple leather of Silver’s hilt, as his mind went through several ideas. While the idea of fighting the remaining Devils was terrifying. Aniks had yet to remove it from the list of options he had in his head. Though clashing against them would mean use of Champion power’s to cover for the lack of the Lost Ones. Something the dark elves desperately wished he could avoid. His biggest fear was the in using them he would subsequently becoming some sort of beacon of foreign divine power in the realms of hell. That would certainly get which ever archdevil ruled this layers attention. Diplomatic was concerning but in truth, even as Death’s Champion. Aniks wasn’t sure how effect that tactic would be. The option Aniks decided on was to follow the Pit Fiend, at a reasonable distant of course. Teleporting away was clearly within it’s capabilities, but he would rather take his chances stalking this resident of hell. Following might lead to a some land mark figure in this unfamiliar darkness. If they did teleport away… well there was always accessing Pharasma’s powers to quickly gain a more accurate knowledge about his surroundings.
 
Aniks tucked Silver inside his cloak of woven shadows and took those silent foot steps forward. His mind and eyes still watched the remaining Devils making sure not to get too close.
 
Maybe because my soul is so broken and shattered, that when a god sees it I’m more of a oddity of how I am still ‘me.’ Can you lessen the light your casting?
 
It would be best for Aniks not to linger on his soul too long. He left out the other part to that piece of existential dread regarding his soul. The one he had only told Celu once. What if ‘Aniks’ had always been born with a broken soul. Who had he been when it was whole?
Sure would be good if I could, huh. I mean, I'll try, but it keys off you? I think. Ain't sure how that one works yet. The sword's light subtly brightened and dimmed, seemingly struggling to stay at either level, and as it did so - Aniks stepped just a little too heavily on a piece of fragmented rock. The noise of it breaking under his foot was quiet, and for a frozen heartbeat of a moment, that seemed like it was enough.
"Shall we bother, sir?" the immolation devil said, far too casually. Their jagged draconic wings flexed, eager for the pit fiend's answer.
The pit fiend breathed a cloud of brimstone, standing ever taller, and-- Aniks no longer seemed to be alone on this rocky slope, the pit fiend now hovering over him, flame-lit eyes affixed on the shadow-clad mortal. Teleportation was most definitely in its abilities. As it had just proven.
 
"A lone mortal?" it said, amused, fire already sparking in one claw. The other devil followed with its own teleportation, appearing next to the pit fiend with an expression of sheer curiosity.
 
"Perhaps the day is not wasted. This might amuse our lords," the immolation devil suggested, glancing over the drow's shadowed form. "It's clearly skilled enough with stealth."
 
The pit fiend switched to Common, its voice echoing low enough to cause the ground around Aniks to tremble. If Aniks were any less protected by the magics of their daily tea, he might have trembled, too. "Mortal interloper. You stand before the most powerful entities of Hell. What pathetic excuse brought you to the darkest depths of this infernal plane?"
 
"It does speak our tongue," noted the immolation devil, watching Aniks hungrily. "Make this amusing, mortal, for I hope you understand what lies on the line if you don't."
 
So, uh, how bad do we want to get out of here? Real bad? Is it god time yet? Silver was clearly very disturbed by this change of events.
Woven shadows mixed with the eternal darkness and smog of Nessus, the deepest layer of Hell. As skilled as the Drow was, the two that appeared before him were no laughing matter. Aniks hadn’t panicked, simply watched the Devil speak. They only said mortal? Not Champion… If they had known would they play that card? Aniks didn’t just focus on this champion mark but on the connection in his soul between Pharasma and himself. Mortal true, but he was Death’s Champion. Aniks touched every domain that his goddess had and the power radiated from the dark elf in waves. With that calm cool aura of neutrality that Pharasma and her soul-piercing straight holds, the Drow made no move as he held this power.
 
“As Pharasma’s Champion, I do not seek to amuse the Devils of Nessus. I have been displaced from the material plane while on a quest from the Lady of Graves.” Infernal cooly left his lips as easy as it did the Fiends above.
 
Immediately, this felt different from how Aniks usually wielded Pharasma's power. Instead of a chill spreading through his fingers and progressively through the rest of him, this was central - a cold, deathly chill that emanated from every Mark upon him and from his heart itself. Despite the realm's heat, white frost jutted out from where he stood; white frost, glimmers of strange silver-green-black water, and the eerie shapes of blue spirit-like shimmers on the air.
 
An aura of death, if you would. For Aniks was not only calling on his Lady's full connection, on that link which bound them together, but he did so beyond the realm of mortals - in the part of Hell most likely to draw attention by doing so.
 
The two devils had not seemed intimidated much by Aniks, at first - and then Pharasma's power in its enormity had swept itself around him.
The immolation devil took a step back.
 
Two things happened, then.
 
One: Both devils turned sharply, as if pulled, to face in the same direction - somewhere to the northeast, by the looks of it. Both stood sharply to attention.
 
Two: The sound of ringing steel echoed behind Aniks. On the frosted outcrop landed heavy metal boots, the sound absorbed by the shadows that still ensnared Aniks.
 
Before he could turn to look, the devils looked back at him. It was at least entertaining to watch the pit fiend's expression grow deathly serious, the immolation devil still hovering behind in uncertainty.
 
"It seems you've made the day interesting, mortal. Our lord and master extends an invitation to the Lady of Graves' courtiers."
 
For once Death’s chill was welcomed as it coursed through his veins. Every breath felt cold, felt like the power moved with his lung, pumped with his heart. He had proven his claim as Pharasma’s Champion, but removing it entirely would be ill-advised. Another deep breath out, and the dark elf lessened his connection. Still present, but nowhere near as large as. There was a rush and thrill to holding that power, divine power radiating from him, but Aniks knew the consequences of holding that much power for that long. He could change, even at the lessened amount he was emitting if he kept this up.
 
Aniks did not bow to the devils, only a clear nod before he spoke in the Devil’s own language “I accept your Lord and Master’s invitation.”
Then he turned slightly, keeping at least his vision and sense of souls around him on the two floating in the smog above. Silver remained unraised and he glanced behind him. To the unknown behind him.
 
Scarlet eyes glared back at him from an oh-so-familiar visage. Shadows and death roiled around the steel feathers of her wings. In her hands, somewhat unusually, a scythe gleamed with Pharasma's own meteoric sigil winding its way down its shaft.
 
Herald and Champion, then. Unlike usual, the Steward of the Skein made no move to speak to the Champion she had evidently been sent to check on. Nor did she speak to the devils. Yet she did not seem to be ignoring any of those present - merely watching and waiting.
 
Silver made a strange laughing sound in Aniks's mind. Shit, we got a party going. That's not really feeling like a great thing??
 
The devils exchanged a glance. The immolation devil spoke. "...It would be faster if we teleported y--"
 
The frost hardened on the ground. Obsidian cracked, and lava beneath it froze solid. The devil stopped.
 
"Far be it for we loyal servants to interfere in the plans of our masters and their honoured guests," it said, after a moment. "Follow us - do not deviate from the course - and we shall fly to the... receiving hall." Despite Aniks's switch to Infernal, this devil stuck to Common. The pit fiend remained quiet, contemplative.
 
(For Aniks, who had dealt more with demons, this may have felt strange - but devils, particularly powerful ones, were far more wont to be accommodating to new situations. At least, until they figured out how to exploit them.)
 
No words were exchanged between Herald and Champion. It was as if the dark elf had expected the iron-clad angel to appear, he didn’t. Just a curt nod before turning to follow the devils.
 
No it’s not. Death’s Herald and Champion appearing in any realm together would draw the attention of most gods… He kept eye on the Devils, how they acted epecially at the new arrival. Aniks thought to Silver, then if a smirk could be thought Silver could have felt it. Ah the irony of having to use that spell here…
 
Arcane words were spoken into the dark in front of him, as fingers moved the strands of smog. A single bead of soft golden light appeared as the spell started. That mote of light circled his head creating a halo. Up on its creation, from underneath his cloak, long and elegant white wings appeared. They stretched to their full length before Aniks took to the smog-filled sky in silence. He’d dismiss the spell later till then…
“Lead the way.”
 
A mortal angel, Pharasma's Herald, and a pit fiend walk into a bar, mused Silver to.. itself? To Aniks? Wasn't clear. Sure seems like a hell of a time. Wonder how many eyes you got on you now? Bet the Lady of Graves is watching. Hey, what are wings like, anyway?
 
The two devils took off in an eerie silence, the smog and shadow parting for them. The Steward of the Skein waited for Aniks to follow, the telltale sound of her plated wings only sounding in the air a beat after him; it seemed he had a shadow for the time being.
 
The darkness parted somewhat as they travelled, allowing Aniks a somewhat better look at the route they took. The landscape beneath was not simply obsidian, lava, and darkness, no - from above, one could see the countless cathedrals, shrines, and spires carved into it in their varying states of repair. The biggest stood proud, sigils of Asmodeus and other religious engravings, carvings, and dedications visible even from their vantage point. This realm was not a wasteland - it was a shrine to the Prince of Darkness. Each building a temple - and each visiting soul, an offering.
 
They flew higher, approaching a grand hall built in some regal style that seemed, to Aniks's eye, more ancient than almost anything he'd seen before. It rested on the precipice of a volcano, anchored by jagged black pillars. The immolation devil hovered ahead.
 
"You are asked to remain within the hall and await an escort to the Synod Eye," they said, glancing at the pit fiend with inscrutable emotion. "Our lord and master wishes to impress the significance of Pharasma's emissaries, and his desire to meet you in kind. This wait is to ensure your safety as the Eye is... made ready. As an offer of goodwill, a room has been made ready should the mortal Champion require it prior or post the approaching discussion." Devils were very good at deception. This one sounded honest, earnest. Silver mocked every word in Aniks's head as the devil spoke.
 
Man you're so getting yelled at when you get back to the rest.
 
A fair few… but I am not sure if it’s just gods watching anymore. Aniks said to Silver as he flew above the cathedral to Asmodeus below. He had answered the other questions Silver had asked, as he looked at the buildings he crossed over. Like the Underdark, he viewed this place very much the same. Beautiful from a distance, dangerous up close. The dark elf was silent again for a while, as they approached the oldest of all the buildings. Upon landing at their destination and hearing the immolation devil. He replied simply.
 
“If the Lord of Hell wishes to meet, then I have no objections to waiting here or in the room when it is ready.” Keeping his voice cool, still using Infernal to speak with the devils. Aniks willed the wings away, ending the spell. Aniks returned to his standard form if he was to meet the Prince of Darkness. Then he would do it as himself, not some Angelic version of himself.
 
Shit His thoughts had slipped into Undercommon. He looked around the building he was in for the time being alone with Silver in his thoughts. This was not how I thought today was going to go at all, though I am not sure how the others would yell at me for this.
 
The devil nodded, and without a word of goodbye, both it and the pit fiend teleported. It was such a synchronised teleportation that it had to have either been linked or otherwise indicated by some unheard signal, and it left Aniks alone with his deity's Herald - the first time they'd been left alone outside of Pharasma's protection.
 
Finally, the Steward of the Skein spoke. Even and measured, exuding a perfect aura of neutrality - even to Aniks. Not an inch revealed. "...You have led us here. Have you prepared your questions well, Champion?" She spoke simply - if stiffly - in Common, and once finished speaking, made the deliberate motion of looking across the room. Not believing they were alone, evidently.
 
You get into some wild shit, man. Weird that she ain't as pissy as normal. Why'd you kill the wingies?
 
“Who can really be prepared when speaking to the Lord of Hell.” Death’s Champion took a position to look at the other portion of the room. Similar to the Herald, Aniks’ voice was level and cool though his common wasn’t stiff as the Iron-clad Angel. His golden eyes scanned the other portion as he continued, but not out loud. Skein had spoken to him through his connection to Pharasma before, though Aniks had never chosen to speak to Skein before.
 
It is the questions from Him that my concerns should be placed. Aniks thought through the connection. There are other thoughts and concerns I have had as to how I ended up here, but dealing with this meeting is the most important event I currently have to deal with.
 
Then just to Silver.
 
I will speak to the Prince of Devils as myself, not under a spell that makes me look like an angel.
 
Have you so little foresight? Do not presume to think you will only be faced by the Prince of Darkness, Champion. Ah, there was the usual acidity. Somehow, for Aniks, the Steward of the Skein could make everything sound like an insult. You walk with multiple infernal Champions. One of their number stands with your allies. Expect the addition of Dispater at minimum, with his traitorous wife's connections.
 
Spare Erecura your ire, Herald. Champion: Ashmodai knows the weight of my gaze. He and his will seek knowledge and provide aid if you give cause for it. Speak with care. Do not fear for yourself. I will not have Hell's plans interfere with your path.
 
Pharasma's voice was as icy water down Aniks's Champion tattoos. The Steward stood to attention at the sound.
 
Silver, in Aniks's mind, let out a low wolf whistle. YOU DEAL WITH WILD STUFF, MAN. Why're you not a fan of the feathers?
 
Aloud, the Steward spoke again: "You have some familiarity with Hell's Champions. Do not forget them in your plans. If they aren't constrained, they can be called to the Eye should you wish for mortal discussion." She remained at attention, her gaze sharp as ever.
 
Can you put your personal vexation for me aside for a moment Skein, we have work to do. I’m well aware I might be speaking of other divinities, Death’s Champion and Herald appearing in the same place would draw many eyes. There wasn’t any malice or annoyance as he spoke through their connection. His burning gold eye held none of the anger the Herald usually saw when they spoke. It was far different than how Aniks normally composed himself. Compared to the Herald, Aniks' posture was far more relaxed as his eyes scanned the hall. Nothing that he could see. Then drew his attention to Pharasma’s words. Understood, I will watch my words and theirs so my cause can be heard favorably.
 
“There is one I trust above any of Hell’s Champions. His appearance here would aid me greatly.” It was the only words he spoke aloud and it was spoken as if conversationally.
 
I have no issues with wings Aniks said turning his attention to Silver as he raised his blade slightly. Now to deal with this light. It was keyed off of himself, was it? So like Jinne and the Ocean. Aniks thought about something that had always felt like a home to him. He channeled his thought of silence and shadows into Silver. To extinguish this strange light. It’s taking the appearance of an Angel in here in Hell I think would be unwise. First appearances create biases instantly, so I go as myself. I go as Death’s Champion.
 
The concerns I hold against you are not just personal, Champion. It was sternly said, but plain at the same time, and she left the topic there to stand her silent guard.
 
The sword hummed a strange note aloud, and the light - stopped. In Aniks's mind, Silver made a loud noise of complaint. The fuck was that? You didn't even ask! Man, are you trying to shut me up? That felt like it! Anyway, if you're meant to be Death's Champion in visuals, shouldn't you get a scythe too? That feels like a Death thing.
 
The shenanigans of Herald and blade both were somewhat overshadowed by the response to Aniks's statement: an unseen door, forming itself freshly into the wall, swung open with a thunderous bang. Two figures emerged through it: the first, an impossibly beautiful drow, his scarlet eyes alight with inner fire and his long hair cascading down a bare chest. Indeed, he seemed to be clad in not much more than a flowing cape and black smoke.
 
The other, more predictably, was Cyne. The Emperor did not look particularly pleased to have the stranger practically dragging him along by the arm, and stared sharply at Aniks when he noticed the two. "...This isn't exactly where I hoped we'd meet next," he noted somewhat tersely, elbowing the drow off. The drow let out a pleasant laugh, stepping towards the Skein instead.
 
"Now, now. It's better for mortals to talk to each other themselves, isn't it? Why don't you have a brief chat before we begin, and the lovely Steward and I can.. catch up? Everyone else seems to be prepared enough, so let us know when you've gotten all caught up and I'll lead you in!" It had felt like only minutes, hadn't it?
 
The Steward did not respond aloud to the provocations. Basileus. Asmodeus's herald, Aniks heard in his mind, clipped. Ignore him.
How I look matters not, I would rather have function over form. I’m more comfortable if I were to draw you than a scythe… and for what it’s worth I didn’t think that would work. Aniks let the Herald's words settle on him for a moment, he thought about saying something... then Drow and Emperor walked in. That had drawn his whole attention. Away from Skein and Silver.
 
“Neither would I…” Aniks said slipping the annoyed blade into its sheath. Taking a step away from the Heralds and towards his friend. “And it wouldn’t have been if something during our fight with the shard hadn’t sent me here.”
 
"The ball went predictably wrong then, I'm guessing." Cyne gave a heavy sigh; it'd become almost typical of him, these days. "I had hoped it wasn't rooted in Shiar... I'm also hoping we have time for this conversation. How is the fight? You're.. all alright?" He watched Aniks with an inscrutable expression. Before his ascension, before Alysia's death, Cyne had already been good at hiding his reactions.
 
Now, the weight that hung in his stare felt heavy when he rested it on Aniks, pressing down emotions that might otherwise reveal themselves. And yet, with that final question, there was a flicker. He frowned, covering the flicker by crossing his arms and glancing around the room. "...And if you didn't intend to end up at the entrance of the Synod Eye, then this conversation will be interesting. I don't need to remind you that some of this will have to stay here, right?"
 
Death’s Champion stare had hardly changed since he began his trek through the hells. Only when Aniks noticed that tiny flicker from Cyne, did he let go of that last vestige of champion power that trailed around him. Pulling back the woven shadow hood, to give his friend an actual smile.
 
“With what you must be dealing with, I think I should be asking you that question. But I’m honestly not sure, but I’ll manage like I normally do.” Aniks didn’t feel like lying to Cyne so he told the truth. He really wasn’t sure. Too many questions recently. Still the drow continued.
 
“You have my word, none shall know you we’re here unless you say I can tell them. The ball went about how we expected, a fight broke out, saved some but not all. During our second or third fight was when something flung me here, as to why. I couldn’t tell you. How are you holding up?”
 
"...Well. It's.. been interesting," Cyne said carefully, his neutrality slipping into a frown. "There have been developments recently. Neither we nor Medimia are.. particularly keen in provoking the death of our Champions, with you off together, so the battlefield has been... somewhat more defensive on both sides. It's a mercy I'm not sure we want to pay the price of receiving. Galasthin's been interfering, too. They're, er, not so happy that their Scion is with you."
 
He paused, remembering something.
 
"...I think they've mentioned Torag's Champion to Gildómar, by the way. I've not had a second to try and address that, but when you're done with the fighting... that might be something to mention to Burdyr. What's going on with your demigod situation, actually? I was told of a psychopomp's... fall."
 
Both Heralds turned to pay attention to that, their own conversation falling quiet.
 
Have a little hope.
 
Echoed words to the fallen demigod from his own lips.
 
“Ceyannan, they fell trying to deal with the shard. They’re hardly more than a husk of their former self. I’m not sure what will happen to them, once we deal with this Shard.” His eyebrow furrowed as he remembered the nihilism from the husk of divinity within that temple. Aniks had taken the news about the war with some consideration, nodding in agreement to telling Burdyr, but something was missing.
“Where is Riven's faction in all this? Elias’ ship never resurfaced after we left? Have they not interfered at all?”
 
Cyne's reaction - the way his lips pressed together in a thin line, brows furrowing together - to Ceyannan's fate was nothing compared to the way the Steward of the Skein's wings flared out, the scarlet eyes in her helmet flickering like flame. For a moment, Basileus seemed to shift, too, his form losing all semblance of being drow, wingtips flicking out and terrifying power seeping from him - for a moment, only. Not long enough to fully observe.
 
"...So they're killing gods now," Cyne finally said, in a murmur. "Or as close to it as they can get. At least Cayden lives." He seemed to be lost in thought for a long moment, finally shaking his head with silent decisiveness. "...As for Riven. His inactivity is partly why Medimia have drawn back. Neither side wants to draw the attention of a fleet like that when we have little idea of its operators, so we're.. searching. We're not working together, but there's been some relative exchange of information... I'm hoping we find out more of who Riven is." He hesitated, glancing to the side, and winced. "...I'd like to say I haven't seen any interference, but as of yesterday, that would be a lie."
 
"I received a request to speak to them via their enchanted parchments not long before I was.. summoned. I've yet to even tell Aetha."
At the sound of iron-clad wings, golden eyes darted in that direction though no other part of his body moved.
 
“Riven’s Medimian born according to a passing comment by Idonia whatever that’s worth. As for their fleet the teleportation runs off of some leyline engine, so their jumps are... should be somewhat confined to said lines. I wish I could have gotten more information for you but even that information is shaky at best.” Aniks placed a hand across his mouth, lost in thought. That last part, they could talk to Elias but why would they want to speak with Cyne now? ”I wouldn’t even touch that with everything else going on. Just be careful Cyne if you rep... wait, how did you even get that paper?”
 
"I'd heard that much about him, but it's good to have confirmation.. we can press Medimia on that, if they're not so low as to claim him as part of their invading force." The bitterness and well-kept anger in Cyne's voice - was it aimed at Riven, Medimia, or both? It wasn't too often that he was so clear about his dislike like that, brows narrowed, flame sparking in his eyes. Well - that last part was certainly new. Golden irises lit with infernal fire: a rare manifestation of Asmodeus's power, most likely.
 
"The ley engines are harder to deal with. Leylines don't just crisscross the world - their power is ambient. It's the natural magic in the air. It's everywhere. To harness it and use in machinery... fucking hell, that's a jump. A dangerous jump. That knowledge needs to be locked down or we're all in danger for it, Shards or no." He looked grim. "...As for the paper, it was sent through a messenger. I had three people look it over when we figured out who it had come from: Ypolita first, then High Priestess Tinuval, then, uh, Liese Celadrion... mostly because they all happened to be in the room and after those three had deemed it fine, I wasn't about to worry about putting it through any more of a gauntlet." That, at least, seemed to be more of a good memory; it dulled the edge of his frown, and let his eyes fade back to their usual glowing gold. "I'm still uncertain it's a good idea to reply, but, well. I do already deal with the devil." He gestured around them.
 
Cyne’s gesture had gotten a chuckle from the drow, a tired smile crossed his face as he shook his head “Gods how did we end up here.”
Aniks then put a hand on Cyne’s shoulder, squeezing slightly “We’ll get through this. The War, the shards, Riven, everything. I also need to thank you and Nivinle for the cloak. Weirdly, I think it’s the nicest thing Nivinle has ever done for me. How…is she?”
 
Cyne didn't linger on the stresses of their lives, but the look he sent Aniks was a grateful one. The mention of Nivinle, however, earnt the drow a sigh. "..I'm not sure there's a good way to describe how your sister ever is," he muttered. "She's one of the most driven people I think I've met. And she seems to be handling all of this better than pretty much anyone else. She's either happy with how it's slotting into her plans or happy with how the new plans are going, I'm guessing. Not that it's worth trying to guess much with her. Every conversation with her feels like an intellectual war, you know. In the fun way, for the most part."
 
“Sounds like her and knowing Nivinle, it’s absolutely both.” The relief from Aniks was noticeable both in his eyes and his tone when Cyne finished. He pulled back his hand from his friend’s shoulder. The worry that Nivinle had been leaning towards a more demonic mentality had concerned Aniks. He knew it was a possibility. One he created, and he would have constantly be wary of. “Sounds like you two actually get along, which is honestly more than I expected.”
 
“If we’re able to talk after this is done, I can go into further detail about what’s happened to us. There might be something I missed or forgot to mention that you can learn from if we can talk. Now... to see which of the archdevil’s interests I had peaked by coming here.” The smile thinned into a line, knowing this conversation couldn’t last terribly long. Having turned to the two Heralds, Aniks adopted a more serious expression as he stored Silver in their sheath. “If the Lords of Hell are ready, then let us proceed.”