Chapter 585: Ra''azel

    An Echo of the Past

    Ra’azel looked out of the window of the shuttle, as the cthul called the flying vehicle they were in, while his hand absentmindedly moved over the fabric in his lap. Memories assaulted him, things that he hadn’t thought about in a long time.

    Memories of home, of family, of betrayal.

    “We are nearing our destination,” a voice pulled Ra’azel from his thoughts, and he raised his head to look at the armored form of Zynth, the Sixth Emissary of the Machine, whatever that meant.

    “I’ve told you what would happen if this is a trick,” Ra’azel said slowly.

    “The Machine God has no need for deception, our goals are aligned,” Zynth said.

    Ra’azel narrowed his eyes, doubting the words. He had lost himself, he didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. The banner in his hands had only confused him further.

    “Keep your word, and I’ll keep mine and speak with your... god.”

    Zynth didn’t answer, nor did Ra’azel expect an answer, the man or woman, Ra’azel wasn’t certain as he still couldn’t feel anything through the armor Zynth wore, was a being of few words. And when Zynth did talk, it was to speak some nonsense about the cthul god.

    Ra’azel waited patiently as they landed high in the mountains, on a large open field. He followed the emissary and their escorts out of the shuttle and looked ahead.

    He froze for a moment as he looked at a familiar sight, one that he had never thought he would see again.

    The walls surrounding the estate were worn, stone crumbled from age, a thing that shouldn’t have happened. The runes he had carved in their foundations would’ve prevented it.

    He walked forward, leaving his escorts to follow after him on their own, lost in his own head, in the memories. The gate was broken down, the wood scorched and withered. Signs of battle were everywhere, but it had happened a long time ago. The elements had done their thing and covered up most of it.

    The buildings along the street were familiar, though worn and collapsed in on themselves, few still stood. He walked through the empty streets, lost in his memories. Once they reached the main square he walked up to a tall wooden totem pole, its peak adorned by a carving of three elements, water rushing in a circle, fire blooming in its center, and wind coiling around them.

    Ra’azel approached put his hand against the wood, tracing the lines etched there ages ago in a different reality. It was his hand that had carved it, two initials, done by a foolish and young yeti that had fallen in love.

    He turned his eyes from it and continued up the hill, the Exalted Empire escorts following close behind him. Banners like the one clutched tightly in his hand swayed weakly in the wind, hung from poles or buildings, ragged, torn and withered by age.

    He remembered when she had first started writing this tome, when she ran to him for advice and insight.

    He opened the tome and read through it, noting the holes that were hidden. Any mentions of the manifestations of Aspects were edited out, as were any mentions of runes and contracts. It still flowed well, offered insight into different Aspects and how they interacted with each other in different situations.

    Ra’azel knew that these interactions were based on the nature of the beings that embodied them, but the core principles worked in this reality too.

    He closed the tome and turned his attention to the other book. Slowly he opened it and started to read.

    It was a journal, his daughters. The early entries were from before the betrayal. And Ra’azel numbed his emotions as he read through the passages. No mentions of Runes, or anything that would infringe on the rules of this new reality were in there, though Ra’azel could see the places where they were edited out. His daughter’s voice reached out across the ages, her joy at growing stronger, at learning and becoming better at her craft, her worries and fears.

    Then came the entries about him. She wrote about how he had changed, how his attention seemed to always be on something else. How he was restless, how he had grown cruel toward the Aspects he once respected.

    Ra’azel continued reading, until he reached the entries before the betrayal, he read through his daughter’s turmoil and ultimate decision.

    The entries jumped ahead, long after the betrayal, he could see regret for the loss of her father, but also certainty that it was the only way. That they had made the right choice.

    Ra’azel closed the journal, not willing to read further. He cast his eyes around, saw the ruin of his home, the thing that it was turned into.

    “What was the name of this monster boss?” Ra’azel asked, though, he perhaps didn’t need to.

    “The author of the tomes,” the emissary said. “Da’azel, the Forgemaster.”

    His daughter had lived, had been here, his family. Serving, as he had warned them, as monsters. As cattle for these... chosen. Their blood was spilled, and for what? To prove the worth of others? To seek some small measure, some small consideration from the Dealmaker. To hope that some small piece of their people could survive.

    It was all a lie, it was... Rage, an old fire, rose inside of him. He hated the Dealmaker, hated the that its words had turned even his own blood against him, solely because Ra’azel wished to prove their worth. To show that his kind could rise, could be more.

    Instead, they turned on him, and stayed loyal to the Dealmaker. For their loyalty they had been rewarded with this... To be butchered like cattle, just monsters.

    Ra’azel had lost himself, in the prison, in this Infinite Realm. His goals had been revenge, to tear down the Dealmaker and his rules. But... he had faltered, he had spent too much time on small matters, small inconsequential things.

    Ra’azel took a deep breath, then turned to look at the emissary.

    “Take me to your god.”