The Slate – The Fall of Ebon. 

‘The King had come on chariot and held in hand the Herald he rode forward and faced Orion the undying titan of the North. The two half-mortal sons of Mealis did battle as their people savaged one another around them. Divine light had cut off aid and bound them in singular combat. Their battle raged till breath grew heavy and limbs leaden until the Riders of Night had overtaken the Day. They slipped on blood-soaked earth turned mud by their battle and the two had come to the ground where Orion had started to crush the smaller King. Though the dagger was drawn and driven into the jugular of the titan and used to pry from his head one of his blessed eyes. The titan lay still, he would rise again, but he was bested now and the King took his eye into himself and gained of it its power of Sight.’ 

The King Trei of Ebon sat upon the broken body of Orion he knew the great titan would rise once more but, in the moment, he was too tired to care. His wounds did not burn half as strong as the fatigue in his muscles. He sucked in breath felt which stung his dry parched throat. The air was thick with the scent of torn up earth and metallic blood. He watched Coelestis Exercitus, the servants of the Gods, these from the flitting colorful robes and scarecrow bodies he marked as the Tres Facies drawn through the air on chariots. They drew black growling clouds that fought against their leads over the battlefield to set the mood. The clouds let out the howl of thunder. The rain started to pour, and the tired king opened his mouth letting the drops his face and bleed into his mouth. They carried the metallic taint of the blood that clung to his skin but at this point he did not care he let the cold seep in hoping it would leave him in numb bliss. He felt the shadow fall across him. “Sire! One of his legionnaires approached.  

“The Kerridan tribes have betrayed us they turned upon our flank.” 

The King growled out the name. “Harrow.” There was a well-timed roll of thunder delivered by a Facis’ whip to a stubborn cloud. He closed his eyes tightly and brought his hands together until the visage of his goddess appeared in his sight, Mealis the Goddess of Purity and Mother of Man. ‘By your light and grace my divine mother, give me strength to face your enemies and maintain the word of your will.’ He felt the pain subside as the fatigue parted to his channeling of divine power. His injuries remained but to heal wounds was dangerous in the field. The soldier turned messenger reached down and helped his king up and raised his sword for him. He shook the bubbling lightheaded nausea from his mind as he surveyed the chaotic battlefield. The Marok of Orion were breaking with the fall of their king and his second, Lord Duncan, had taken the lead of his forces and drove a spear through the heart of their formation and divided them, out flanked their reserves, and wiped out their slingers with chariots. He trudged having to wrench his sandals from sucking mud as he made his way to the melee that was the flank that the Kerridan had been positioned. He held aloft the Herald of the Trueborn who cast forth its burning brilliant light of golden flame. The petty king of the Kerridan, Harrow, approached the beacon of his former master and the two circled. There was a brief clash of steel until Trei sundered his foe’s spear in twain and drove the greatsword deep into his guts. He twisted the sizzling grey metal as blood popped at its contact. He pulled the Herald free and removed the traitor king’s head. He scowled at the sound of hooves and turned to a creature descending from the sky clapping a set of shells together. 

“Cara.” 

The centauress came to a stop just above the muddy ground. A pair of large wings flapped from her back with tiny ones flapping manically above each hoof. Several Coelestis, Muses, spoke her name in a sing-song tone “Carabella” and strummed a fanfare on a harp. Carabella’s golden horseshoes gleamed as if in the dark rain a sunbeam had broken through and struck them specifically. “Greetings mortal, I! Mess- oh hey Trei.” She put her coconuts away and took out a small bugle blowing her own fanfare. “I the great Carabella Goddess, currently under the domain of Messengers, announces the arrival of Zatolen Chief of the Gods.”  

The King sighed. “Very well. Where is he?” The clouds opened in a circle and the dark God descended in a pillar of moonlight he bore a black toga with black hair that bled into shadow and scarlet eyes like dying stars. The effect would have been more majestic if Trei did not notice the rope, he descended upon leading up to the clouds above and more so if it didn’t jam or at least run out of slack a foot off the ground. “Evening.” Trei greeted. “What do you want Zatolen?” 

The Dark deity struggled. “I told him a slip knot…” He seemed to decide that the knot wouldn’t come undone and it crumbled to dust before he dropped fully to the ground. He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to continue the theatrics. Na’Tally ruined it anyways.” 

“Zatolen… I’m tired, cold, and soaked. Please get on with it.” 

“Of course… I come with dire warnings. Talisman has foreseen your undoing noble king.” 

“What will be my undoing?”  

“A baby is born of the freshly slain king’s line.” He pointed a pale finger to the corpse of Harrow. “If you allow him to grow old, he shall destroy you.” 

“I shall not kill a child to save my own flesh.” 

“He will cost you everything.” 

“Then that is what I must pay.” He waved the god off and trudged towards what remained of his chariot. “I will defy this fate. I will take the child in and make him of my own blood.”  

The King Trei had led his men to the lands of the Kerridan and taken the babe from his mother to raise as hostage and second son. He allowed the mother to live in his home as well not willing to steal a son after taking a husband.