Night fell gently over the hidden Whispering Eye enclave, its lanterns glowing with a soft blue hue that illuminated the clearing among twisted pines. Xion found himself perched on a large, mossy boulder near the main fire pit, the hum of conversation drifting around him. Though only a day had passed since he and Lillian Weiss arrived, the enclave's watchers had grown somewhat accustomed to their presence—enough to let them explore the scattered archives, speak to other watchers, and trade knowledge.
Evening's hush carried a sense of tentative peace. Arvell, the tall man who had tested Xion's anomaly with a resonance crystal, stood across the fire, speaking quietly with a group of watchers about rumored Epitaph sightings in the eastern territories. Sera, the silver-haired woman who guided them here, rummaged through a chest of scrolls near a canvas tent. Meanwhile, Enira, the older lore-keeper with braided hair, continued sorting fragile parchments that documented forbidden lore.
Xion inhaled the crisp air, recalling how, hours ago, he and Lillian had pored over references to families and churches that shaped the realm. Now, another question burned in his mind: the gods themselves—who or what truly reigned over existence, from lower to highest? This was no idle curiosity. If Epitaphs were cosmic scars, then perhaps the pantheon played a role in rewriting events and illusions. He needed to understand the divine hierarchy that overshadowed the realm's mortal struggles.
A soft footstep rustled the pine needles. Lillian approached, her two-toned hair catching the firelight. She wore a thoughtful expression, staff balanced lightly in one hand. "Thinking about the gods?" she asked, voice gentle. "I noticed how you kept scanning the archives for references."
He nodded, shifting on the boulder. "Yes. The realm's major families and churches revolve around cosmic laws. But what about the gods themselves?He paused, frustration etched in his voice. **"We keep hearing that the Divine Concord worships a pantheon, that the Eclipsed Throne says the 'true god' vanished, that the Blood Psalms revere devourer aspects...** He trailed off. **"I want to know if there's an actual hierarchy or if it's all illusions."**
Lillian offered a half-smile. **"I suspect it's more complicated than illusions.** She glanced over her shoulder at the watchers. **"Shall we ask Enira or Arvell? The Eye might have records on the gods from lower to highest."**
Xion nodded. Together, they crossed the clearing, weaving past watchers who nodded in recognition. Enira looked up from her parchment stack, eyebrows raised.
"Something new?" she asked, setting aside a quill.
"Yes," Xion replied, voice steady. "We want to understand the gods. We've gleaned how families and churches see them, but we need a direct account of their hierarchy—" he paused, searching for the right words, "from the lowest gods to the highest powers." He exhaled. "We suspect the cosmic rewriting might tie to them somehow."
Enira's expression grew thoughtful. "Indeed, many watchers here ask that question." She gestured for them to follow, leading them to a smaller tent near the back of the enclave, where older tomes lay stacked precariously. Inside, a single lantern illuminated dust motes dancing in the air. She rummaged through a worn chest, eventually producing a thick, leather-bound volume sealed with a tarnished clasp.
"This is a partial compendium—some watchers call it The Ladder of Divinity. It's not complete, but it arranges the known or rumored gods by power and domain." She undid the clasp, flipping pages gently. "Be warned: each entry might be biased by the scribe who recorded it."
Lillian leaned closer, curiosity lighting her eyes. "We'll keep that in mind."
Enira turned to a chapter titled The Divine Tiers, revealing a list of gods or divine beings, each described in short paragraphs. The script was cramped but legible, annotated with watchers' margin notes.
---
"First," Enira read aloud, "are the Lower Gods, beings who ascended from mortal origins or lesser spirits to minor divinity." She tapped the page. "They're often revered locally, or they serve as subordinate aspects to greater pantheons. She let Xion and Lillian scan the text:
1. The Harvest Sisters: Once mortal priestesses who channeled fertility magic. Over centuries, local worship elevated them to minor godhood. Their influence rarely extends beyond a handful of villages, but they hold real power there—blessing crops, punishing oathbreakers.
2. Varion the Beastlord: A warlord who devoured the hearts of monstrous creatures, eventually transcending mortality. The Blood Psalms hail him as a living avatar of predatory strength, though some say he's more a demigod than a true deity.
3. Seraphis, The Chained One: A rumored ex-archon who defied a higher god and was cursed. Now worshipped by outcasts who believe Seraphis can break cosmic shackles. The Divine Concord labels him a false idol.
Enira turned a page, revealing margin notes:
- Lower gods can be killed by powerful mortals or overshadowed by higher beings. They rely on worship for sustenance.
- Some ascend by absorbing relics or forging pacts with Epitaph-level forces.
Xion nodded, absorbing the idea that lower gods might be dethroned or replaced, like powerful mortals stepping into a divine mantle. Lillian's eyes flicked over the text, searching for references to illusions or rewriting events, but found none yet.
---
Enira flipped further, revealing a section titled The Mid-Tier Pantheon—Archons and Intermediate Gods. She tapped a finger on the headings. "Here we see those who command broader domains but still bow to higher cosmic laws."
"Archons?" Lillian repeated.
"Yes, watchers suspect Archons are either fragments of older gods or constructs shaped by the pantheon to maintain cosmic functions. Enira read:
1. Azrael, Executioner of Final Judgment: An archon who carries out punishments for cosmic crimes. Rumored to appear only when a being defies fate too blatantly—some say he works with the Argent Order, others that he's an extension of a higher god's wrath.
2. Lyreth, Keeper of Names: An intermediate deity preserving the records of mortal achievements. The Silent Choir both reveres and fears Lyreth, for she can restore forgotten truths or erase them forever.
3. Zephyrion, Arbiter of Time: A being who enforces temporal flow. The Clockwork Order (a sub-faction sometimes mentioned in watchers' notes) venerates him. He's rumored to intervene when paradoxes or illusions risk fracturing linear time.
Margin notes mention:
- Archons can clash with each other or with higher gods, but typically remain subservient to the top-tier pantheon.
- Some mortals worship them directly, forming small cults. The Divine Concord acknowledges archons as "lesser lights" under their main pantheon.
Xion recalled references to an Executioner archon in earlier lore. Azrael might be the one who hunts anomalies like me if I break cosmic laws. A shiver crawled up his spine. Lillian, noticing, offered a reassuring squeeze of his arm.
---
Enira turned to a major section: The Recognized Pantheon of the Divine Concord. She cleared her throat. "These are the gods the Concord enforces as the rightful rulers of existence— though watchers debate their authenticity. She let them read:
1. Solrion, The Radiant King: The Concord's principal deity, embodying the sun, order, and justice. His symbol is the golden scale. He presides over laws, moral codes, and the condemnation of heresy.
2. Avelia, The Dawnmother: Goddess of life, healing, and new beginnings. The Concord claims she blesses births and fields, though her miracles can be overshadowed by local cults like the Harvest Sisters.
3. Itharis, The Watchful Flame: A deity of vigilance and truth, fueling inquisitions. Many inquisitors swear by Itharis, believing illusions cannot hide from his flame.
4. Marath, The Shield of Faith: Patron of defenders, guardians, and stable governance. Often invoked by smaller kingdoms allied with the Concord.
Margin notes mention:
- Some watchers suspect the Concord's pantheon is incomplete or overshadowed by a hidden power.
- The Eclipsed Throne claims Solrion usurped the throne from a vanished "true god."
"So these are the official gods of the Concord," Lillian murmured. "They shape most of the realm's mainstream worship."
Xion frowned. If Solrion truly enforces cosmic laws, does that tie to illusions or watchers? Or is the Concord simply using his name for power?
---
Next, Enira pointed to a smaller entry: The Vanished God of the Eclipsed Throne. She read:
- Name unknown, referred to only as "The True Sovereign" or "The Absent One."
- The Eclipsed Throne faith insists this god was cast out or erased by the current pantheon.
- They claim all rewriting events trace back to the moment this True God was removed.
- Some watchers suspect the Black Star is linked to the True God's heart, continuing to bleed cosmic anomalies into reality.
"Fascinating," Lillian breathed. "If the Eclipsed Throne is correct, the cosmic rewriting might revolve around a dethroned deity."
Xion's thoughts raced. Could the final rewriting be an attempt to restore or bury that absent god?
---
Enira flipped to a page describing the Blood Psalms. "They worship a primal force known as the Devouring King, sometimes conflated with Varion or other devourer demigods." She recited:
- The Devouring King is believed to be an ancient predator that transcends mortal limits by consuming the essence of foes.
- Some watchers see parallels to devourer Epitaphs.
- The Blood Psalms claim the Devouring King once warred against the pantheon, nearly devouring lesser gods before being sealed or banished.
Margin notes highlight:
- Could the Trinity lineage descend from the Devouring King's essence?
- Legends say if the seal breaks, the Devouring King will devour existence anew.
Xion stiffened at the mention of devourer traits. Trinity... devourer... Could that be in my blood? The possibility unnerved him, though it might explain the resonance crystal's strong reaction.
---
Finally, Enira turned to a rarely cited chapter: The Highest Tier—Myths of Forgotten Lords or Absent Masters. She read quietly:
> Some watchers theorize an even higher realm of gods who once shaped reality but vanished or were sealed. These "Forgotten Lords" surpass mortal pantheons. Legends conflict: some call them prime creators, others name them cosmic parasites.
> Some claim the Divine Concord's pantheon replaced the Forgotten Lords, or that the Eclipsed Throne's absent deity was among them.
> The Black Star phenomenon might be their lingering wound, an open sore in the cosmos.
Enira looked up. "We have no solid proof these exist—only scraps from undone timelines or illusions." She set the tome aside. "That concludes the general hierarchy as watchers see it: from lower gods who ascended from mortals, to archons and mid-tier deities, to the Concord's pantheon, and possibly overshadowed by absent or forgotten gods at the top."
Xion exhaled, head spinning. A layered pantheon, riddled with controversies, each level overshadowed by possible illusions or rewriting. No wonder illusions abounded, watchers prowled, and Epitaphs manifested. The realm itself was a patchwork of cosmic claimants to power.
Lillian gently closed the compendium. "Thank you, Enira. This clarifies a lot." She looked at Xion. "So the topmost gods might be absent or dethroned. The Concord's gods rule the mainstream, while other faiths revere lesser or different powers."
Enira nodded. "Precisely. Each family or church chooses its allegiances among these tiers, sometimes mixing beliefs. The realm is not unified in faith, hence the conflicts."
---
As they left the lore tent, Xion and Lillian mulled the revelations. They found a quiet spot near the clearing's edge, the night air cool against their faces. The watchers around the fire pit spoke softly, occasionally glancing their way.
"So the hierarchy might look like this," Lillian summarized, counting on her fingers:
1. Lower Gods (mortal ascensions, local deities like the Harvest Sisters, Varion the Beastlord, or Seraphis).
2. Archons/Intermediate (like Azrael, Lyreth, Zephyrion—subservient but powerful enforcers).
3. The Concord's Main Pantheon (Solrion, Avelia, Itharis, Marath), widely worshipped, though possibly overshadowed by...
4. The Eclipsed Throne's Absent One or the rumored Forgotten Lords (the highest level, possibly erased or sealed).
Xion nodded. "Yes. And the Blood Psalms worship the Devouring King, who might fit somewhere between lower gods and mid-tier or might be akin to a separate overshadowing threat. He recalled the margin note about the Devouring King nearly devouring lesser gods. That implied monstrous power, potentially above the mid-tier but not quite the recognized pantheon.
"It's all so fragmented," Lillian mused. "No wonder illusions flourish—there's no single truth, just overlapping claims."
"And we stand in the middle," Xion said softly, "with a possible Epitaph, hunted by watchers, illusions, or inquisitors, while the realm's gods remain uncertain."
A hush settled, each pondering how to proceed. The orchard orchard meeting, the references to undone timelines, the final rewriting—the gods might shape or resist these cosmic events. If the topmost gods were absent, who enforced cosmic rewriting? The watchers? The Black Star?
"We must keep reading," Lillian said at last. "We have the general hierarchy, but we still need a path to your Epitaph detection." She paused, expression solemn. "And if your lineage is tied to the Trinity's devourer heritage... we should watch for signs."
Xion's chest tightened. He recalled rumors that Trinity scions awakened blood-hunger in dire battles. He'd not experienced that, but his sword glowed once or twice. The resonance crystal reacted strongly. Was that a different manifestation?
He forced a small smile. "One step at a time, right?"
"One step at a time," Lillian agreed, gently patting his shoulder.
---
That night, they settled into the watchers' spare tent. A single lantern flickered, shadows dancing on canvas walls. Xion tried to sleep, but rest eluded him. The knowledge of the gods—from low to high—battled in his mind with the fear of devourer instincts or illusions. Eventually, he rose, stepping out into the clearing. The watchers had banked the main fire to embers. The sky overhead was a tapestry of stars. He found a stump near the tree line, sitting with sword across his lap, letting the night's hush envelop him.
"Still awake?" came a soft voice. He turned to see Sera approach, cloak drawn tight. Her silver hair caught the moonlight.
"Yes," he admitted. "The realm's bigger and more complicated than I ever imagined."
She gave a knowing nod. **"The Eye sees that confusion in many who come.** She hesitated, then sat on a nearby log. **"Have you decided your next step? Will you chase the Etherion rumors, or attempt to find Trinity relics?"**
Xion sighed, gaze drifting to the star-laden sky. "I'm not sure. Etherion might hold a device to test or force Epitaph manifestations. But searching for them might be near-impossible. He recalled the mention of them retreating into secrecy after a catastrophe. "What about you? Do you know anything about the Trinity's devourer artifacts?"
Sera shrugged. "Only scraps. Some watchers believe a Trinity blade once devoured illusions, forging a direct link to the Devouring King's domain.** She eyed his sword. "You carry a plain blade, right?" She paused, curiosity piqued. "But I heard rumors you made it glow."
He grimaced. "It glowed in a fight once, maybe responding to my paradox.** He shook his head. "No sign of devourer traits yet. A wave of relief mingled with anxiety. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or worried that no monstrous hunger had surfaced.
They sat in companionable silence, the night's stillness thick with unsaid possibilities. At last, Sera stood. "Whatever path you choose, I wish you luck." She gave him a faint smile. "The Eye doesn't force anyone to remain. But if you uncover more about Epitaph detection, do share." Then she slipped away, leaving him with the moonlit clearing.
He stared at the moon, letting the hush lull him into a calmer mindset. The pantheon, the devourer aspects, the absent gods—he was a small piece in a cosmic puzzle. But he refused to be powerless. If he was an anomaly, he'd harness that contradiction for good.
---
Morning dawned, and Xion rejoined Lillian to comb the archives for a final day. The watchers were helpful, though guarded about certain secrets. They found references to rumored locations:
- Etherion's Last Workshop might lie in the Ashen Marshes to the southeast, near a broken tower.
- Trinity's Hidden Shrine rumored to be in a mountainous region far north, protected by illusions or devourer wards.
- Ayakashi illusions rumored in the western desert.
- Weiss infiltration across many realms—though Lillian tensed at reading that, her own family secrets pricking her conscience.
Each location promised danger, but also the chance to confirm or reveal Xion's Epitaph. By midday, they concluded that chasing Etherion or Trinity leads offered the clearest path. One might yield an artifact to test Epitaph synergy, the other might reveal if Xion truly carried devourer traits.
They sat in the clearing's shade, discussing. Arvell approached, arms folded. "Leaving soon?"
Xion nodded. "We can't linger forever. The Eye has given us enough leads to try." He exchanged a glance with Lillian. "We're leaning toward the Etherion route first— searching the Ashen Marshes for their rumored workshop."
Arvell gave a curt nod. "A dangerous region, full of toxic fumes and undead rumors." He paused. "But if Etherion relics exist, you might indeed find a device to confirm your Epitaph." He extended a hand. "Take care. The Eye's doors remain open to you—unless you betray our trust."
They shook hands, mutual respect passing between them. Lillian expressed gratitude to Enira, who offered a small traveling pouch of notes. "A summary of the major families, churches, and the gods we've compiled," Enira explained. "It might help on the road."
---
That evening, the watchers held a modest gathering by the fire pit, offering Xion and Lillian a communal meal of roasted game and wild herbs. The mood was subdued but not unfriendly. Sera joined them, exchanging small talk about roads and illusions. A handful of watchers asked Xion about the resonance crystal's glow, curious if he felt any devourer impulse. He admitted he felt no such hunger, though he sometimes sensed a swirl of paradox within.
Lillian spent time quietly conversing with a few watchers who recognized her Weiss lineage. They seemed wary but not hostile—some parted from the Weiss Dynasty themselves, forging new allegiances in the Eye. She gleaned small updates on how certain Weiss watchers manipulated lesser conflicts to maintain cosmic balance. Her expression grew grim, but she said little, only affirming her independence from her family's overarching plans.
As the fire died down, Xion gazed at the flickering embers, remembering Veluria's illusions, the orchard in Grenspar, the hush of devourer rumors. He had come far, yet the real journey was only beginning. The watchers offered no illusions of safety, but at least he had knowledge—and an ally in Lillian.
"Tomorrow, we head out," he whispered to her. She nodded, setting a hand on his shoulder. The path to the Ashen Marshes loomed, uncertain but beckoning with the promise of clarity.
---
Morning's first light found them packing their gear. The watchers provided extra rations—dried mushrooms, salted meat—and a small crystal that glowed faintly, meant to ward off illusions. Arvell parted with them at the enclave's edge.
"If you survive the Marshes and find Etherion relics, remember the Eye," he said, voice solemn. "Knowledge is meant to be shared carefully, not hoarded or weaponized."
Xion nodded. "We'll do our best." Lillian gave a respectful bow, staff in hand. Sera lingered nearby, offering a quiet farewell. Then, with final glances, they left the glen, stepping back into the broader forest.
They walked for an hour in silence, the forest thinning to reveal rolling hills. The watchers had pointed them eastward, indicating a route that skirted the main roads to avoid Concord inquisitors. Eventually, they found a game trail leading into a rocky pass. The day was mild, a soft breeze rustling the grass.
Lillian broke the silence. "So the gods, from lower to highest..." She exhaled. "We might never truly see them, but their presence shapes everything—especially illusions, watchers, or rewriting events."
Xion stared at the horizon. "If the highest gods are absent or sealed, maybe illusions fill the vacuum." He paused. "We're dealing with a realm lacking a single anchor. That might be why Epitaphs keep surfacing—contradictions run wild."
She nodded, gaze determined. "Then let's see if we can anchor ourselves." Her voice carried a steely edge. "We'll face these cosmic truths, unravel illusions, or find a path to rewriting fate on our terms." She gave him a small, confident smile. "After all, you're an anomaly they can't erase so easily."
A wry grin tugged at his lips. Yes, an anomaly forging his own destiny. He recalled the swirling corridors of undone timelines in his dreams. Maybe one corridor ended in the Marshes, where Etherion relics awaited. Another corridor might lead to Trinity shrines, devourer aspects, or the seat of the absent gods. For now, the Marshes beckoned.
They pressed on, the day brightening around them. If illusions or watchers lurked, they remained hidden. The hush of nature enveloped them, a calm before the next storm. In his heart, Xion felt both dread and anticipation: The realm was shaped by these gods from lower to highest, but he refused to kneel to illusions or rewriting. He would stand, an anomaly who might just carve a new path beyond the gods' broken tapestry.
By midday, they exited the forest, arriving at a vantage point overlooking a vast, rolling plain. In the far distance, a faint haze hinted at marshy terrain. The watchers' instructions said the Ashen Marshes lay beyond those hills, a two or three-day trek. If Etherion's last workshop was indeed there, they'd face more dangers. But knowledge beckoned.
They paused to eat a quick lunch, discussing what might come next. Lillian carefully reread the watchers' notes on Etherion's downfall: an alchemical explosion or cosmic meltdown that forced them underground. Some rumored Etherion still existed in pockets, forging relics that mimicked Epitaph powers. Others said the entire lineage was devoured by illusions.
"Either way," Xion said, finishing a piece of dried fruit, "we might find a relic to confirm my Epitaph. He exhaled. "Or we might find nothing but ruins."
"We'll handle it," Lillian assured. "We overcame Veluria's illusions, watchers, and bandits." She gave him a teasing smile. "You're unstoppable, remember?"
He snorted. "Hardly unstoppable. But we keep going."
They pressed forward. The plains wind tousled their hair, the horizon stretching wide. The mention of the gods, from lower to highest, echoed in Xion's thoughts. Would he one day stand face to face with an archon or a devourer god? Could he truly unravel illusions rooted in cosmic authority?
A pang of fear warred with hope. He recalled how the resonance crystal glowed silver, marking him as a living contradiction. If devourer instincts or illusions emerged, he'd face them. If rewriting events threatened the realm, he'd stand firm. He was Xion Trinity Pendragon, an anomaly forging his own fate, no matter which gods claimed dominion.
They reached the base of the first hill by late afternoon, the sun descending behind them. The day's journey had begun. The next chapters of their story would unfold among marsh vapors, possibly unveiling Etherion's secrets. The watchers' enclave had given them direction, the pantheon's hierarchy gave them perspective, and the world's illusions had taught them caution. Now, they walked forward, resolute.
---
Evening draped the plains in soft hues of gold and purple. Xion and Lillian decided to camp near a small creek, sheltered by a rocky outcrop. They built a modest fire, using the watchers' dried kindling. The flames danced, reminding them of the hush in Veluria and the watchful eyes in the Eye's enclave.
As they ate a simple meal, Xion found himself voicing a final reflection on the gods. "We learned so much about them—lower gods who ascended, archons who enforce cosmic laws, the Concord's main pantheon, and possibly overshadowed or dethroned highest gods." He glanced at Lillian. "Do you think any truly watch us, or is it all mortal invention?"
She paused, gazing at the flickering fire. "I think something watches." She touched her staff, expression distant. "Whether it's the absent True God, the Concord's pantheon, or a cosmic wound like the Black Star, I sense the realm is never fully unobserved. She offered a small smile. "But we're not puppets. We still choose our path."
He nodded, letting the night's serenity seep into his bones. Yes, they had choices. The watchers might be cosmic enforcers, illusions might be manipulative forces, but Xion still walked forward, forging a paradox. If the gods refused clarity, he'd carve clarity himself.
"Tomorrow," he said, stifling a yawn, "we push deeper into these plains, heading for the Marshes." He lay back on his bedroll, the starry sky overhead. "Let's see what Etherion's secrets reveal."
Lillian settled in beside him, staff within reach. "One step at a time," she repeated with a soft chuckle, the same mantra that had guided them since Veluria. He nodded, eyes drifting shut.