“What does your seer say?”
“He doesn’t. Orcus hasn’t shared any more visions with me since the wrestling tournament. I think Mater got to him.”
I was about to respond when there was a knock on our door. I opened it to Stefan, looking bored as ever.
“The Thrones are here,” he said as though announcing the arrival of the mail. “In the council room. Lucian sent me to get you.”
We each donned our armor and hurried to where most of the Council members were already waiting, kneeling with their heads bowed in reverence. We adopted a similar posture. Above us hovered several dozen points of light, glowing like ghostly lanterns in the darkened room. The Thrones’ spiritual energy concentrated all around us and centered our attention to their presence and little else.
“Who among you made this summons?” they demanded, their voice a single chorus.
“I did, your holiness.” You lifted your head.
“Announce yourself.”
“I am Vincent Rodrigues of the sunborn tribe.”
“Sunborn?”
“Yes, my father was Akhenaten, the last of his kind.”
“Outrageous. Do you have any poof of this claim?”
Ashur spoke up then. “Many years ago, I was visited in dreams by Bastet, queen of the under realms, and tasked with the honor of guarding Akhenaten, the sole survivor of the sunborn line. I took him as my companion and hid his identity from everyone, including my own tribesmen and the Angel of Death. Whilst imprisoned in a Shade Vale, where I was made her warden, the bloodborn witch Lena mated with Akhenaten, conceived his heir, then cannibalized him. Upon his birth, that heir, the man kneeling before you, was delivered by the belial demon Seneser to his beloved.”
“Was this course of action blessed by the Angel of Death?”
Ashur paused. “No, it was not. I worried for the child’s safety in the blood-witch’s care, and a mine is no place to raise a child of Ra, robbed of sunlight. Not to mention, the prophecy…”
The Thrones conferred amongst themselves in their angelic tongue while I contemplated this revelation. Ashur was the reason you’d come to me as an infant? All along I’d thought it was an arrangement Lena had made with Seneser. I was glad then, that I’d not beheaded him in the mine, for here was an enemy turned ally.
The Thrones, having settled that matter amongst themselves, now addressed you again. “What is the reason for this summons, alleged child of Ra?”
“We have several grievances against the Angel of Death, and we seek to testify against him in the presence of your holiness.”
Another murmuring among them, followed by, “Proceed.”
The tribes took turns airing their trials and tribulations under the Angel of Death’s rule—sordid tales of Azrael trafficking in Nephilim bodies and forcing demon and human alike into Imperium servitude. Accounts of cruelty, torture, and retribution. The hours slipped by, and other than asking a few clarifying questions, the Thrones were mostly silent.
When it was your turn to speak about your captivity, you did so with a clinical detachment, which made your testimony all the more harrowing. At its conclusion, you motioned to me. “And now, I’d like to call upon Henri Cherusci of the bloodborn tribe to testify about Azrael’s illegitimate rise to power.”
I stepped forward and relayed to all present how I’d been recruited in the Balkan Peninsula by Lena and three Potesta angels, all inhabiting human forms, who told me my destiny would be to unite the Germanic tribes under Roman rule.
“The angels I now know to be Azrael, Thirran, and Seneser. At their urging I returned to Germania but unbeknownst to me, Azrael and Lena were conspiring to sabotage the campaign.”
“Why would they do that?” questioned the Thrones.
At this Lena spoke up. “Azrael wished to humble Thirran before the Potestas and establish a Nephilim army in the earthen realm, an ambition to which Thirran was opposed. When the Roman empire suffered that loss in Germania, Azrael placed the blame on Thirran and used it to elevate his own esteem amongst the Potestas. My son was made an example of Nephilim hubris, so that when Azrael appealed to you with his grand design to subjugate our sons and daughters, you were primed to agree.”
At Lena’s words, the orbs began vibrating at a high frequency, one that could mean our salvation or our destruction. “The angel Thirran abdicated the holy realms more than two millennia ago,” they argued.
“Or he was disappeared,” said Orcus, who’d been silent up until this point.
“Speak plainly, shadowborn.”
“There are rumors,” Orcus continued, “that Azrael struck a deal with the shadowborn to hide Thirran’s soul in the under realms. I believe that same soul now resides in Bastet’s city of light.”
Bastet, Seneser, Azrael, Lena… too many connections and opportunities to conspire. I was reminded again that there were too few among us who could be trusted.
