War of Light and Shadow - Light's Last Stand (part III)

In the Darkest Hour of the forces of Light, three celestials met in secret, away from prying eyes, somewhere in Akuinor.

The Forger had come up with a plan, a crazy hope, that showed potential. His crafty mind had come up with something none other could have devised. For the Forger was not the most cunning of the Ancients, nor was he the wisest among them, nor the most intelligent. But he loved creation above all else. Kaehir believed that for all its power the Shadow could be defeated without using implements of destruction. In fact, Kaehir believed that Ulhaeron, unable to create anymore, actually wanted his foes to use their maximum capacity for destruction.

And he wasn't entirely wrong. The will of the Shadow God was served whether creation was corrupted and twisted in binding to his power, or if it was destroyed, in either case the Shadow God grew stronger, and the Aldoren and all they strove for were weakened. In the face of doom, the others had condoned to something which was unthinkable to the Forger: the creation of the ultimate implement of devastation. Thus Kaehir made a twofold plan. That when the Sevenfold Blade was ever used against any of his own creations, and not against the shadow god and the shadowsworn, it would trigger a flaw that would shatter the blade back to its pieces, rendering it useless.

Of course he spoke of this flaw to no one, for he knew that this kind of cunning would not be condoned by the others. None of them felt as Kaehir did. They were all creatures of the Aether, children of the Flame Eternal. Only Kaehir was so attached to the elements of creation, only he had such a great love for material things, for he saw in all such things the very love that brought them to existence. The others, even Ulhaeron, saw this as a flaw in Kaehir, for they believed that his excessive attachment to material things made him less divine, but he just smiled and nodded at their condescending. He couldn't blame them because they could not understand.

Which was not entirely true. There were two other Ancients who could understand Kaehir's love of Creation. Aedmon the magician was one. Intimately familiar with the workings of the Unfolding Dream, Aedmon had been absolutely fascinated by the art of manifestation, and the interchange between energy and matter. This is why he understood the process that the Shadow used to corrupt creation, and while he  disagreed with Kaehir, believing that maximum destruction would suffice to actually stop the Shadow God, he felt terrible that they would have to take such measures. Many of the dreams and hopes of the ancients would be annihilated in the conflict that would come. It would take a truly great sacrifice to win. And Aedmon was in doubt whether the sacrifice would be worth it.

The other ancient, and perhaps the most important among the three was Ancalimon the musician. The divine bard was an inherently compassionate being, but more importantly he understood Kaehir's pain too well. He had inspired and woven many of the dreams that had led to Kaehir's various creations, especially his most ambitious projects in Akuinor, and the two were unlikely, but dear, and inseparable friends.

Kaehir explained his folly to the other two, for that is how the plan came to be called "Kaehir's Folly". It was truly a very risky plan that relied heavily upon Ulhaeron's biggest flaw: His boundless vanity. Kaehir led the others to his latest creation, which stood in the very heart of Akuinor, past the last Bastion where Elora and her guardians stood vigil. If Ulhaeron came past this point, then all would be lost. And that was exactly where Kaehir's plan commenced.

The others saw, and in that moment, both of them smiled at the Forger's craftiness. The plan was crazy, but promising. It was worth the effort, they all agreed, and only then did Kaehir grin with true mirth. "I need one last component." he told them. "And only the two of you combined, can bring it to me." he added. "Ulhaeron touched the bottom of a dismal realm that we call the Abyss. It is there that his transformation to the being he has become now commenced, and thus I need a piece of that place to complete my plan."

Kaehir asked from Aedmon to open a gate into the Abyss, and Ancalimon was the one best suited to go there and just fetch anything from the place - even a piece of tiny rock would suffice. Now the others were terrified at first. There was no telling what a portal to the Abyss would bring into Akuinor, and the bard was a light-hearted creature of peace and merriment, not used to facing horrors such as the things that lurked at the bottom of the pits whence horrors like the Colgatha hovered.

Aedmon begun to weave a tunnel through the cosmic fabric, but even for the master of magic tearing a hole to the Abyss was bordering the impossible. As soon as Aedmon reached the threshold between the realm of the Abyss and the rest of the Dream, a great malevolence attacked him, and their wills wrestled. It seemed, for a time, that he would not prevail, and that not only would the effort go to waste, but one of the mighty Aldoren would be lost even before the fighting commenced.

But Aedmon wove a mental maze that ensnared those who attacked him, posing upon them riddles that could not be solved, deceiving their ancient and hungry minds with the illusion of new knowledge that they could devour, feeding them with falsehoods and illusions instead. In this way he gained time to weave the tunnel to the very bottom of the abyss. Then he sustained the gate, and fortified his weave, so that it would not be severed easily.

The divine wizard invoked mental guardians that were colossal simpletons who crushed the abyssal entities with brute force. They were crushed momentarily, but recovered fast, and their numbers multiplied within seconds. Sensing the threat, Aedmon created the portal and urged Ancalimon to step inside. Trembling with fear, the bard entered the portal, and almost instantly his will was stolen by the sheer malavolence native to the realm of the abyss. This was a realm of pure hatred, hatred against life, against death, hatred against everything.

But most of all, Ancalimon realized, the realm hated Ulhaeron. Even to the minds of this dismal plane, what the Shadow God had done was hubris of a monumental scale. He had stolen the Black Flame and abused its power, and the old forsaken entities of the abyss, who were more ancient than the rest of the cosmos, would not let this transgression slip.

In desperation, helpless against this onslaught of hatred, Ancalimon strung the chords of his harp and issued a sad, melancholy song of loss and betrayal. The hateful entities were halted by the music, apparently enchanted, only for a moment. But then they realized what was going on, that Aedmon was working together with Ancalimon, and they redoubled their attack.

Aedmon's mind was ravaged by the new assault. His guardians were destroyed, devoured by hollow beings of anguish and despair, which poured into his mind, stripping him of knowledge, wisdom and sanity.

Ancalimon was seized by invisible hands, but not before he managed to tear a small piece of rock from the bottom of the Abyss. Instantly the rock begun to emit a blackness that seeped into the musician's hand, sending unbearable agony upon him. His harp, a gift from Kaehir, capable of making the most divine sound, fell to the floor of the abyss.

Aedmon counter-attacked, this time making the most vicious mental construct possible. A terrible tempest of chaos broke casting torrents of temporal lightning upon the abyssal beings. Both the ones that attacked him, and the ones who attacked Ancalimon were shredded by the mighty blasts, torn throughout time, between the past and present. At the same time, he mentally urged Ancalimon to return through the portal. Shocked by the attack, the invisible hands had loosened their hold upon Ancalimon, who managed to break through the portal in the nick of time.

Aedmon sealed the portal and collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed by the effort. Likewise, Ancalimon let slip the dark stone he had retrieved from the bottom of the abyss, before collapsing into oblivion. Such effort and risk for such a trivial item. It had better be worth it. When the two of them recovered, the battle had already started, as the Enemy had engaged them on all fronts in the outer Bastions.

Darkness had drowned out the skies, and up above Dragons flew and waged relentless war with the flying Colgatha.

Kaehir fetched the little black stone with a pair of tongs. This was the finishing touch. This was the crowning of his folly. And the last hope for the forces of Light.