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In the beginning the Old Gods found themselves in emptiness. The Sun and Moon were born of them, and so their parents decided to give their children something to shine upon. So they created the earth, which the Father named Gimahn. The Old Gods thought that Gimahn was a rather pretty bauble, but that it was boring. So they put the First Men and the First Beasts on the world to fight, and perform for their entertainment.
These First Men and First Beasts did not grow old, but they could kill each other. One of those First Men was Erubenyx of the Elves, who became a thief of such skill that he could steal anything from his foes, he could steal their lands, their people, their power, even their secrets. He became known as Erubenyx the Conqueror, and was Greatest of the First Men.
Erubenyx befriended some of the more powerful First Beasts, including Valravn, Eater of the Slain, a creature of tremendous power whose father was Urbarran of the West, Greatest of the First Wolves, and whose mother was Seithra of the North, Greatest of the First Ravens. Valravn was a monstrous combination of raven and wolf, but could alter her shape between the forms of her parents as she wished, spending most of her time as a raven.
The friends would travel together; Erubenyx would slay his foes, steal their power, and Valravn would take their flesh. They became quite close, and he helped her slay Murder, Lord of Crows, after he conspired against Seithra and betrayed her. Valravn paid her friend back for his help by introducing him to another friend that she had made, Ardanelle, one of the First Men, a beautiful and insatiably curious human woman who flitted about from book to book, from one interesting fact to another in an unending search for knowledge.
Unlike the Conqueror, she was a peaceful creature, using her knowledge as a means to power rather than by cunning or violence. Fascinated by her, Erubenyx gave her every book he found, stole secrets and knowledge to share with her, and eventually even read with her. Their friendship grew and the two fell in love. Erubenyx doted on her, bringing her even more gifts, more books, and even commissioning the construction of The Sanctum Athenaeum, a great library where she could store and enjoy all of his gifts in peace.
With fewer enemies willing to challenge him, Erubenyx turned his sights towards the gods. If he could steal power, if he could steal memories, intangible concepts, then could he steal power from a god? Hearing of his curiosity, Valravn suggested that perhaps as an avid gambler he could target Tychas the god of Luck and Chance.
So Erubenyx challenged Tychas to a game of cards. The god, feeling his victory in a game of chance was assured, answered the challenge and descended to Gimahn to meet with the Conqueror. The wagers were friendly at first, the man lost most of the early hands, but then changed the stakes, asking for the god's power. Tychas, still feeling confident, agreed to the terms.
The god may have been a master of luck, but Erubenyx was a master of theft, including that by treachery, and his talents at deception prevailed. Enraged, Tychas attacked Erubenyx but without his powers he was easily slain by the Conqueror.
Filled with outrage that a man would dare kill a god, the Old Gods sought revenge. They made it known to their creations that they were offering a bounty for the Conqueror, but the allies of Erubenyx would not betray him, and his enemies were unable to defeat him. Displeased by the combination of defiance and failure, the Old Gods took matters into their own hands. They descended from their lofty homes and stepped onto the earth so that they could war against all of the First Beasts and Men and remind them of their place.
But the denizens of the world had grown more powerful than the Old Gods had realized. Their creations were well acquainted with war, were clever enough to have created their own magics to use against each other while the Gods lazily watched. For a while it seemed the war was going well for the First Men and Beasts, some of the Old Gods were easily slain in their hubris, some put up a fight, and one, The Scoundrel, his face hidden by a mask, seemed to just delight in games of cat and mouse. He would tease and torment, play silly tricks and lure people away from the battlefield only to rob and trap them for a time, and place wagers on other battles.
But as more of the Old Gods began to fall, one who had been sleeping took notice. She was known only as The End, even by her peers. Her touch withered stone to dust, rusted metal, caused flesh and flora to shrivel beneath the power of the inevitable march of time. Her gaze made men and beasts grow old and feeble in the blink of an eye. She was a shriveled hag, a fair maiden, a crone reaching for all of the cosmos and nothing at once. She was beyond the specter of death, for she was the end of memory as well.
It was futile to fight her, she swept across the land with the dispassionate grace of a hungry flame and the destructive finality of the swirling void. None who fought her survived.
It was Ardanelle who came up with a plan in their moment of desperation. Her passion for knowledge was so great she had secretly learned to manipulate time itself so she could read books that had not yet been written. She had searched through time, exploring every avenue she could to look for any possible way to stop The End, but she was only able to find one solution that had a chance.
Ardanelle summoned the most powerful of the First Men and Beasts to her great library, the Sanctum Athenaeum, which had grown to not only house her collection of books and gifts, but also into a seat of power. There were three from the Courts of the Beasts, and three from the Courts of Men.
From the Beasts came Jellanile the great eagle, her blue and gold plumage was more brilliant than the sky itself, the white tips of her feathers like soft clouds in the sky. She was fierce in combat, with wings that carried her faster than any other living creature, each beat producing a massive gust powerful enough to fell trees. She was the mightiest of the flying beasts, and all feared her wicked talons which were just as large and sharp as any sword.
Then came Incenith the tiger, a wise and clever beast that had stalked men enough to learn the magic of fire. He was vain and proud, his glorious pelt the color of flames and ash, his fangs were like polished blades. His paws singed the ground where he walked and smoke billowed about him like a fluttering cape. He ruled the beasts of the land, and his roar was feared by many.
Ilkaroth the sea serpent was a sight to behold as he arrived, he had tied himself into knots to fit within a globe of water and was carried in by a horse crafted out of seaweed. He was the swiftest of the seas, a great explorer and traveler, and though he was perhaps the most peaceful of the beasts invited, his power was great enough to sink ships and drown cities, and so he ruled the creatures who dwelled within the water.
Of the First Men came Gornath the Stone Fist, an orc of incredible strength and endurance. He led the wilder men, those who lived within the rocks, the caves, the mountains, who had cunning and ferocity and whenever he charged a sea of savagery followed close behind. He and his people valued their own strength, they did not build citadels or armor they took them from those they lay waste to. He was not pleased to be summoned so, but hearing that one of his greatest enemies would be there, he came.
That enemy was Erubenyx the Conqueror, and the elf knew exactly how to enrage Gornath. He walked into the library, head high, bearing no weapons, and wearing no armor. One by one he greeted the lords of the beasts, and then he turned to his love and gave her a sweeping bow as he kissed her hand. The orc he ignored.
The dispute that followed spread to the others and the library surely would have been destroyed had it continued. These were all fierce leaders tempered in battle with no love for each other, and each was powerful enough that they had already survived battles with the Gods that had created them and the world.
But none of them were foolish enough to have dared to face The End, and Ardanelle silenced the bickering with this fact. So despite their wariness and even hatred of each other, they turned to her, and were silent as Ardanelle explained that victory over The End would only come at the cost of sacrifice. Only the strongest would be able to pay the required price to best such a powerful foe, and even then it would require six of them.
The demands to know more about these sacrifices were handily dismissed as she requested patience. They still were waiting for the sixth guest to arrive after all. They were not left waiting for long.
Arigold the human was greeted by murmurs of confusion. He was no leader, nor was he a warrior or magician of exceptional skill. Despite this he was well known and highly regarded, even by the First Beasts. He was an even tempered man, patient, reliable, and of great focus and discipline for he was a skilled craftsman and his clever hands had learned to wield every tool they had ever touched. He produced mighty fortresses, fine weapons, and armor. He created exquisite meals, beautiful works of art, and the softest suits of clothing.
Another argument erupted as Arigold was dismissed as powerless, a poor offering from the Humans for sacrifice. But Erubenyx was quick to point out, Creation is Power in its own fashion. Ardanelle once again called for silence as she began to explain. Arigold, though he was a guest, was not the sixth sacrifice. He would take the materials from the sacrifices and he would create the artifacts required to defeat The End.
These were The Flute of the Ancients and The Tome of the Endless Song. Jellanile would sacrifice a leg, so that the bone could be carved into the instrument itself. The tome would be bound by skin from Incenith’s back and sides. Pages were to come from the thin but durable sail that stretched between Ilkaroth’s spines, and they would be stitched together by the sinews of Gornath’s right arm.
There was an uproar, for none believed that Ardanelle would make Erubenyx sacrifice anything, but she held her hand out, producing an eye that made The Conqueror yelp in pain as he clutched his face. The eye was still in his head, and yet it rested in her delicate hand like a treasured pearl. His eye would be used to watch and wait, and to secure the rest of the plan as well.
Ardanelle somberly declared she had fetched it from the future and that the day he loses it would be the most pain he has experienced. It would be even greater than the sorrow he would soon feel as she revealed her own sacrifice. She would give her blood to provide the ink for the musical notation, and she revealed she was already at her desk, writing The Endless Song with a quill made from one of Valravn’s feathers using her blood as an inkwell. She was sacrificing her life, but also the power that she could have used to save herself.
For Erubenyx had one more task.
She would send him back to the time before The Old Gods had set foot upon Gimahn and woken that great foe, and he would have to find some way to trap The End, and then take the artifacts and hide them so that as she grew weak within her prison, the First Men and Beasts could recover from the wars they had endured with each other and their gods. By the time The End finally escaped, new heroes could take the artifacts, and The Song of the Ancients could be played to slay her. Only then would Ardanelle’s pain and sacrifice end so that she could rest with the other dead.
All were silent save for Erubenyx as he fought and argued, trying to find any other plan that could possibly work, but despite his rage and despair and grief the woman refused to budge. The sacrifices would happen, or there would be no point to anything. And so one by one the lords suffered and paid their share of the price, and Arigold began his work.
Erubenyx wept, and such was his sorrow that not even Gornath tried to interrupt. Ardanelle gave her love one kiss and everyone froze, time itself crystallizing around them in painful slivers that seemed to prick at their very souls and the light of it all blinded them. It felt as if Gimahn itself had ground to a halt, and after a silence deafening enough that it made noses bleed and eyes ache, leaving them all quaking in awe and terror of the great power they had not realized their host possessed. When it was over they all looked up to see that Erubenyx was gone, and Ardanelle lay exhausted on the floor, weak and pale.
It was done then. There was nothing left but to wait and hope that Erubenyx would be able to succeed in the task that he had been set upon and that their sacrifices would not be in vain.
That surge of power had been felt across Gimahn though, and it caught the attention of the Old Gods. The wind picked up and roared outside of the Sanctum Athenaeum, great footsteps boomed with thunder as the Old God Thalastor approached. His was the power of air and sky, light and lightning, dark and downpours, freeze and flood. He could summon deafening booms and frigid winds with a thought, or cause the air to go still and stale, could scorch the ground with intense heat.
Jellanile went out to face him, for though she was now clumsy on land, she could still fly, and that was where her strength was greatest. The great eagle circled and dove, slashing with her remaining claw before flying off to circle around once more. She braved the storms, the lightning, and though tumbled and tossed by the winds that Thalastor called, she did not fall nor allow him to get ahold of her. But she could not hold out forever, and it became apparent she would not be able to slay the god on her own before she became too weary to fight.
She screeched to the sky, calling for aid from any of those who served her. Most who heard were too weak to do more than distract, but Varunak the gryphon answered the call. He was a massive beast, with four wings that unfurled like dark clouds. With his razor sharp beak and claws he tore into Thalastor with a rage so strong it blinded him to the shocks that he received.
After a long and bloody battle that saw the land scorched with lightning and stained in blood, Varunak emerged victorious, his eyes glowing with power as he feasted on the dead god’s heart. Jellanile, thanked him for his help, and bade him help keep the other gods at bay. Inspired by the Queen of the Sky and the loyal subject who had answered her summons, the other maimed Beast Kings began to call for reinforcements as well, for they knew that Thalastor would not be the last.
The land around the Sanctum Athenaeum became embroiled in battle, the First Beasts of the plains and forests, the sea, and the sky tore into the Old Gods as they came. Unwilling to sit back, Gornak called for his people, had the tribes of the wildermen create traps and pitfalls to ensnare gods and make them easier prey, and then he drove his people into a frenzy so fierce they could feel no pain as they charged into the attack.
The war raged all across Gimahn against The Old Gods and their minions, but none of the fighting was as great as there around the library. In the chaos it was impossible to know who had the upper hand anymore in any single engagement, the only certainty was the slow march of death and decay that followed The End.
But as the dread goddess walked, she came upon a fox with a black mask framed in red fur. It looked upon her unflinching, and for once The End paused, curious as to why it did not run. The fox replied that it did not believe she could destroy all that they said. The Goddess gestured to the destruction around her and the fox merely shrugged and declared it had seen a great many things in its time, and it bet that some of what it had seen could withstand her.
It would stake its fine pelt of deep black, dusted about the edges with red and frosted with a touch of silver in spots, that she would not be able to destroy all of the things he showed her. The End considered merely rotting the pelt off of the creature where it sat, but something about its audacity made her indulge its wager instead and she demanded it show her the first thing.
There was a great boulder that looked like a head, made of the hardest stone the fox had ever seen at the edge of a great lake in the mountain cliffs. He’d watched man and beast attempt to move it, attempt to crack it, but it stood unmarred and unmoved. The Fox doubted that The End would be able to harm it.
So they went into the mountains, the fox leading the way, and he showed The End the rock. She stared at the great rock a moment before reaching out and setting her finger upon it. Pieces began to flake off, cracks appeared, and the rock crumbled. But as it did it freed the lake, sending a raging river down the mountain and into the battle below, crashing into one of The Old Gods and carrying him away into the sea.
The fox watched and gave a yawn, unimpressed. The rock was clearly too easy because it had been a test. There was a much more enduring item he had seen. It was near the coast, a great anchor, the largest ever built by Arigold himself, for the greatest ship built by the First Men. It was so large that on its maiden voyage, the ship was weighed down too much and it did not escape the salt flats before the anchor struck the ground and sank into it, never to be pulled again. The carcass of the great vessel was still chained to it, sun bleached and eroded by wind and wave until it was a bare husk of its former glory, but the chain and anvil still remained.
Once more the fox led the way, The End following behind, until they reached the great anchor just as it had been described. The goddess eyed the immense hulk of metal, and reached out. This time a finger alone was not enough, she set her entire hand upon it and then the anchor did begin to rust. It took a day before the anchor, encased in the mud for so long it had turned into a flooded stone tomb, had flaked away into leaves of rust.
Out from that stone tomb came an enraged hiss, and a great golden wyrm climbed out. It had been crushed beneath the weight of the anchor for so long, and now it saw that its former hunting grounds was being trampled upon by a battle. It went to join the fight with a mighty roar.
Indifferent about the dragon, the goddess turned to the fox, ready to claim her prize, but it held up a paw. This was not the most impressive of the things it had seen after all. There was a tree far to the north that had withstood the ice and snow and salt of the sea with no ill effect. It resisted the ax, it resisted the flame, and it stood fast unmoved even as a glacier threatened to slide into it.
The fox led the way to a boat, and asked a shark swimming past to pull them across the cold sea. Once they arrived he led the way to the gnarled tree, still alive and clinging to a leaf despite the snow heaped up all around it and the sheet of ice looming above. The End approached the tree, set one hand against its bark and then the other, and suddenly found herself pulled within, sinking underneath the bark. The fox gave a mighty yip and a deafening boom sounded as the glacier cracked, sliding forward in a rush over the tree and the land around it.
The tree still stood, but was now fully encased within the ice. The fox trotted back to the shore and climbed back onto the boat. The shark, curious, asked if they were waiting for his companion to join them before they left. The fox replied that he was now alone. Hearing this, the shark leapt up, and ate him, for no one would miss the fox and it was a free meal.
Across Gimahn the fighting began to slow as the First Men and First Beasts gained the upper hand. None knew where The End had gone, but the most powerful of them could still feel her unsettling presence in the world. The maimed warlords were gathered in the library to discuss the matter when there was a knock upon the door.
Ardanelle, weak, managed to rise from her desk, pausing in her sanguine transcription long enough to answer the door. There stood one of the Old Gods, The Scoundrel. He was dressed in fine clothing, weapons at his belt, wealth on his fingers and around his neck, and the mask he wore was black trimmed in red.
Without waiting for invitation he walked inside, ignoring the shouts of anger and protest as those gathered prepared to attack. He paid them no heed, instead crouching down and gently picking up Ardanelle, carrying her to her favorite reading chair and carefully sitting her down before kneeling in front of her. She reached down to remove the mask and revealed Erubenyx, his eyes a mix of grief and joy.
After he had finished greeting his love, he told those gathered where he had locked away The End, and no more. He ushered the guests out, including Arigold, and then committed a theft so brazen none would have believed it had they not seen him tuck the thing away into his pouch with their own eyes. He had stolen the Sanctum Athenaeum and all of its contents out of the world entirely. The maimed lords charged to attack, but The Scoundrel was gone.