In the deepest chamber of the Central Core, where the abyssal pressure could turn coal into diamond and silence itself felt ancient even to their kind, Kael'Thur remained motionless. Beneath his mineral exterior, the currents of mana vibrated slowly as he processed the disturbances ravaging the depths.
Then the air tensed with an impossible rigidity, despite the fact that no wind could ever exist in such a place. No claw, fang, or hoof had ever managed to breach that sanctuary.
But the rock did not crack.
It was pierced.
A column of light descended from the ceiling, passing through miles of solid stone as though matter itself had lost all meaning before it.
White.
Immaculate.
Far too white.
When it came into contact with the Central Core, the entire chamber trembled. The currents of mana fell into disarray, the mineral walls groaned, and the very stone yielded beneath the weight of that presence.
Any living creature would have felt an irresistible urge to bow.
Kael'Thur slowly lowered his crystalline frame, yielding to that same force.
"Aeltharis…" His voice resonated through the mineral veins of the chamber. "The God of Order has turned his attention toward the depths."
No body emerged from the light.
Instead, a pure will manifested, embedding itself within every crystal and altering patterns that had remained unchanged since before his species could remember.
"His existence is in danger," the voice declared, causing the walls of the Core to tremble. "Thar'Kaal does not belong to this world. It is a deviation, an illegitimate growth rooted in these lands by the Devil."
A heavy pause spread throughout the abyss.
"And that which protects it will alter the world until it becomes unrecognizable."
Kael'Thur silently processed the information.
He knew the Lithar lacked the means to contain such a threat without outside assistance.
"We have taken pity upon your kind," the divine voice continued. "But you must act according to the will of the Light. Lusian is an anomaly; within him remains the discontinuity left behind by a dead god."
The ancient Lithar's mineral veins trembled almost imperceptibly.
"But even darkness possesses a fracture, and the Light was created to pierce it."
The column of light intensified, growing brighter and heavier.
The stone beneath it began to crack. The veins of mana reacted violently, and even the Central Core seemed incapable of withstanding the magnitude of that presence.
There was no room for resistance.
"The Chosen have already been activated. Eighteen."
The god's words pierced Kael'Thur like an invisible crack.
"The nations of the surface are already marching beneath a single faith. Three lunar cycles separate their fleets from these shores."
Kael'Thur remained motionless, measuring the abyss of time and destiny that had just opened before them.
His species had never needed outside assistance, but the Tree's roots advanced without pause. With every new pulse, the depths became more hostile to the survival of his people.
"Three cycles are an eternity to organics," Kael'Thur finally said. "For us… it is more than enough time to disappear."
"Then we shall grant you resistance," the god's voice declared.
The light changed.
It no longer emitted a mere radiance, but an unbearable, searing heat that began to warp the mineral walls of the chamber.
"Receive the Solar Flame. Infuse the Light into your cores and cease to be merely stone."
A violent tremor swept through the Central Core.
Kael'Thur felt his internal structures strain to their limit, making the flow within him almost unbearable.
"Become bearers of my will," Aeltharis continued. "Where darkness prevails, the Light shall take its place."
Kael'Thur remained motionless for several eternal seconds before speaking.
"All energy demands compensation. What is the cost?"
"The Demon Queen must disappear," the divine voice answered without hesitation. "And Lusian… must be eliminated."
A heavy silence followed, preceding a deep vibration that shook the chamber.
"Accepted," Kael'Thur said.
He was not driven by devotion or gratitude, but by the bitter certainty that there was no other choice left.
The column of light began to fracture into thousands of golden strands that slowly descended toward the Lithar.
Needles of energy embedded themselves within their cores and merged with their internal veins, forever altering the primordial mana that had defined their species for countless ages.
The Central Core burned—not consumed by fire, but by the burden of an alien will.
And so, for the first time in their history, the Lithar ceased merely to endure in the shadows of the abyss.
From that moment onward, they would actively take part in deciding what would survive the war that was approaching.