Page 168 of The Ascended
"And Vivros emerged from his isolation to face him," I said, understanding dawning.
"Not by choice. Moros forced the confrontation. He was now stronger than he’d ever been before."
“But Vivros killed Moros, in the end.”
“Yes. He was the last living Primordial until the Twelve decided it was time to finish what they started. So they descended upon him when he was still weak.” Xül paused, tilting his head as his gaze dragged across the room. “They had to act fast, I suppose. It was once believed that all descendants, even working together, could never defeat him. So the Twelve couldn’t exactly miss the opportunity for an upper hand.”
His phrasing caught my attention. "All descendants?" I asked. "You mean the Aesymar?"
Xül's eyes flickered with surprise, whether at my perception or his own slip, I couldn't tell. He moved to a drawer in his desk, withdrawing a different scroll, this one bound with four distinct colors of thread: gold, silver, black, and a strange greenish-blue.
"The Aesymar as you know them now," he said, his voice dropping even lower, "were not the only divine beings to rise against the Primordials in the Sundering."
He unrolled the scroll, revealing a map unlike any I had seen before—not of land or sea, but of realms, connected by pathways that formed a complex network. Four distinct worlds, each rendered in one of the thread colors, arranged in a perfect quatrefoil pattern.
"Before the first primordials were slain, four pantheons existed in harmony, all descendants of the Primordials in their various aspects." His finger traced the golden section. "The Aesymareans." Then the silver. "The Esprithe." The greenish-blue. "The Ehlistrea." Finally, the black section. "And the Vaerhuun."
I leaned over him.
"Each ruled their own mortal realms according to their nature," Xül continued. "The Aesymar with order and hierarchy, the Esprithe through harmony and balance, the Ehlistrea through passion andtransformation." His finger lingered on the black section. "And the Vaerhuun through fear and domination.”
My eyes remained fixed on that shadowed quadrant. "The Vaerhuun—that seems like a party."
"Not a party I'd recommend," he said. "While all pantheons descended from multiple Primordials, the Vaerhuun shared Moros's affinity for the darker aspects of existence."
"And they all agreed to stand against the Primordials?"
"All four pantheons united, yes," Xül confirmed. "Despite their differences, their thirst for power connected them. I suppose Vaerhuun joined because Moros wasn't the intended target of this particular coup."
I stared at the map, at the four realms connected by those pathways. "But now there's only the Aesymareans," I said slowly. "What happened to the others?"
Xül cleared his throat. "When the Primordials fell, something... fractured. The very foundations of reality cracked. Then, with the final confrontation between Moros and Vivros, the pathways between realms collapsed." He traced one of the lines connecting the realms. "Some believe the other pantheons were destroyed in the cataclysm. Others," he added, his voice falling low, "believe they're simply waiting to be found, adrift in the Abyss."
“The Abyss?”
“The fabric of nothingness beyond the realms of Elaren and Voldaris. Inaccessible to all.”
When he fell silent, I found myself gripping the edge of his desk, steadying myself against the implications of what he'd revealed. The gods I'd been raised to fear had risen through treachery and opportunism, not divine right. And their greed had ripped the universe apart.
“How do you know all of this?” I asked.
“My father’s collection of texts from that period is extensive. You’ve seen the library. He never sheltered me from that knowledge—only taught me about the consequences of knowing it.”
"Why tell me?" I finally asked, meeting his gaze directly. "I assume this information could be considered treasonous."
"Consider it a gesture of faith."
"Faith in what, exactly?"
"In your ability to understand implications beyond what most would grasp." He began methodically reorganizing the materials on his desk. "Most ascension candidates are taught only what they need to know. Enough to function within the divine realm, but not enough to question it."
Xül was testing boundaries. "The Aesymar don't exactly advertise their origins. The overthrow of the Primordials."
"The Aesymar want the Primordials forgotten." Cynicism edged his voice. "They want history rewritten to suggest they themselves have always been. Unchanging. All-powerful."
"A convenient narrative."
"Most successful mythologies are." He smiled. "The truth remains buried in places like those ruins, in texts like these—kept from mortals and divine beings alike."
