Tequilhua Xihuitl ascended the great mount of Ankhubek, his steps steady against the treacherous incline as the mist swirled around him. The towering palace loomed ahead, shimmering with divine grandeur beneath the pale light that pierced the skies. His confidence was unwavering—an envoy of purpose and duty, moving forward as though the gods themselves had carved his path.

As Tequilhua reached the palace gates, he entered the main hall, flanked by statues of the gods. The Tlaloc figure, majestic in its solemn silence, watched over the corridor with an air of eternal authority. Tequilhua's strides did not falter as he passed it, his mind focused on his destination. But then—an unnatural sound broke through the stillness. A click echoed faintly, sharp and out of place amidst the quiet reverence of the hall. He turned toward the source.

His gaze landed on a box tucked in his bag, trembling slightly as if it were alive. The air around it seemed to grow colder. Tequilhua cautiously checked the bag, and as his fingers brushed the surface, he saw the box release blood from the bottem. His confidence shattered in an instant, the scene clawing at his mind like a beast in the dark. He felt the grip of terror seize his chest—a dread far beyond words.

He snatched the bag and fled toward Zaron's chamber, the sound of his hurried steps echoing throughout the palace. As he burst through the doors, his voice cracked as he called out, "Elpenor message is bleeding!"

Zaron rose from his throne, the calm authority of his stature momentarily shaken by Tequilhua's panicked entrance. Tequilhua recounted the events—of the gods, the statue, the ominous click, and the blood-stained bag. As he spoke, Zaron's face darkened, his mind racing through possibilities that he dare not speak aloud.

Had their alliance with the eldritch beast drawn the wrath of the gods? Were they cursed for seeking power through forbidden means? Zaron approached the box with slow, deliberate steps, his fingers trembling as he pried the lid open. Inside lay a letter, its parchment stained and its ink trembling with ominous iron scent. He read the words silently, the weight of their meaning sinking deep into his soul.

"Teo-Zaron has been captured," Zaron murmured, his voice hollow. "And worse..." He hesitated, his breath caught in his throat as he glanced back at the blood-stained bag. "His blood... It stains this."

The oppressive silence of the room seemed to magnify the gravity of his words, the shadows lengthening as though the palace itself recoiled in horror. Zaron felt the weight of a thousand unspoken curses pressing down on him, his thoughts spiraling toward the unknown horrors that awaited them.

But even amidst despair, duty called. Zaron straightened his posture and looked at Tequilhua. "This cannot continue. Elpenor’s forces must not step foot here. Deliver a message to the leaders of Tzinom, Sheqonah, Nefari, Jashum, and Himtech. Tell them to halt Elpenor’s troops before they reach Ankhubek. Warn them—if they fail, the owls of Ankhubek will raid again as they did in times of old."

Tequilhua nodded, his terror subdued by the gravity of his mission. As he left the palace, clutching the ominous letter, his mind could not shake the images of the gods' statues in the hall. Their stone faces now seemed alive, their silent judgment pressing down on his every move.

And as he descended the mountain, Tequilhua could no longer convince himself that the misty veil around Ankhubek was mere fog. It was a shroud, a foreboding presence that whispered curses and promises of unseen horrors. The blood-stained bag weighed heavy in his grasp—not just in physicality, but in the grim omen of what awaited should they fail. He ran faster, as though outrunning the shadows themselves. He notice the sky start to glow of many hues has he ran.

The air grew heavy around Elpenor as he stood on the balcony, the kind of weight that pressed against his ribs and made breathing feel like a trial. His gaze darted toward the sky where an unnatural glow had pierced through the evening's shadows—twelve lights, burning as if they held the fury of ancient suns. Their brilliance was overwhelming, and the colors pulsing, shimmering, shifting, demanding attention.

He felt it before he saw it: the pulsing glow in his own chest. It thrummed as though an ancient melody had been stirred within him, one he had never learned but somehow instinctively knew. His eyes widened as a searing light spilled out, bathing the ground around him in sky-blue brilliance. He couldn’t control it. His heart raced, as if the glow had a life of its own, pulling him upward, his focus locked on the celestial spectacle above.

And then—Hades. The voice came like the whisper of shadows, deep and unrelenting, carrying a power that sank into Elpenor’s very bones. It wasn’t loud, not in the way thunder roars, but it was unmistakable, each word dripping with gravity. “The first of the beast’s followers are arriving,” it echoed, as if spoken both inside and outside of his mind. Elpenor’s knees buckled; confusion tore through him. The Utu of the North? Weren't they already aligned with the beast? Why would Hades speak as though the beast allies were outsiders? He tried to piece it together, his thoughts swirling like storm winds, but the light in his chest swelled, stealing his strength.

As his consciousness wavered, the sky seemed to ripple, folding and shifting in ways it shouldn’t. The edges of his vision blurred, and he fought against the pull, desperate for clarity. His mind screamed for answers, his voice barely a whisper in the chaos. Then came the distinct sound of familiar voices—Nidaba’s, steady and sharp, and Isabeli’s, laced with the tension of panic. They were calling for him. He clung to their words, trying to call back out them, but even they grew distant.

Elpenor felt himself falling inward, his vision consumed by the glow—blues and whites spinning, melding, until there was only light. His chest burned, his heart seemed to skip, and the world went silent. The last threads of sound and sight slipped away, leaving him suspended in a realm that felt neither alive nor dead. And in that nothingness, his confusion lingered, gnawing at him, the unanswered questions circling like specters as darkness finally overtook him.

Elpenor felt trapped, suspended in a surreal, dreamlike void where the light blue glow that had enveloped him began to flicker and fade. The emptiness pressed against him, weightless yet suffocating, until his gaze was drawn upward. Above him hung a colossal sphere—black and glossy, reflecting faint whispers of light. It radiated a strange, imposing energy, its surface adorned with a bright blue symbol that pulsed rhythmically, like the heartbeat of something ancient and unknowable.

Beside the sphere, a dimmer green-blue glow emerged, forming the unmistakable symbol of Hades. The air shifted, heavy with an otherworldly presence, and Elpenor’s pulse quickened. Then, the blue symbol above the sphere began to speak, its voice resonating in a language utterly alien yet disturbingly clear to his mind.

"These foes that descend from the space above are Pisly," the voice intoned, its words penetrating Elpenor’s very essence. "Their level far surpasses that of the beast you battled before. Their magic is like a storm untamed, a power your lowwer form cannot resist unaided."

Before Elpenor could react, Hades spoke, his voice a rumbling undertone that carried both warning and reassurance. "The knife that pierced your chest before you came here has been fused to you. Now, it serves as your shield—a powerful artifact that will protect you from their power and grant you the ability to harness their magic."

Elpenor’s breath caught, his mind racing to comprehend the implications. The knife that had ended his life was now his salvation, a twisted irony that felt both cruel, and something he should have known sooner.

As the weight of Hades’ words settled upon him, a third voice emerged, darker in color and colder than the fog that had coiled around them. It was a presence he had not noticed before, and its symbol appeared—a patch of black so absolute that it seemed to absorb the color void itself.

"This boost will serve you well," the voice hissed, its tone devoid of kind emotion, "but it is not enough. You must still learn their magic—just as you mastered the Dynamis of this planet. Only by understanding their curse can you wield it against them."

Elpenor’s eyes widened in desperation as the glowing symbols began to fade, their radiance dimming until they were swallowed by the encroaching shadows. The void seemed to collapse inward, pulling them away from him. Elpenor tried to cry out, his soul screaming for them to wait, to explain, but no sound escaped his lips. His voice had been stolen by the silence, leaving him stranded in the overwhelming emptiness.

Then, with a sudden jolt, Elpenor’s senses began to return, his vision sharpening just enough to make out the familiar shapes of Nidaba, Enkidu, and Isabeli hovering over him. The concern etched on their faces pulled at the edges of his conscience, forcing him to acknowledge how deeply his condition had affected them. He tried to sit up, but Enkidu, his tone firm yet gentle, placed a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Lay back down,” Enkidu said, his voice steady but tinged with worry. “We don’t know what caused this, and moving might make it worse.”

Elpenor reluctantly obeyed, sinking back into the bed beneath him. It was then that he noticed Nidaba and Isabeli—both were crying, their sobs silent but unrelenting, as if their anguish had robbed them of their voices. The sight of their tears struck him like a sharp dagger, their vulnerability so raw that it overpowered the lingering haze in his mind.

With a trembling hand, Elpenor reached out to them, his touch soft and reassuring as his fingers brushed against their hands. “I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice almost inaudible. “You don’t need to cry anymore. I promise—I’m fine.”

Though his words aimed to soothe, they did little to silence the silent flood coming from their hearts. Isabeli’s face was pale gold and streaked with tears, while Nidaba’s shaking hands and snakes curled.

After a moment, Elpenor turned to Isabeli, his tone gentle yet resolute. “Isabeli,” he said softly, “I need you to leave the room for just a moment. Please.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering with doubt, but eventually she nodded and stepped out, her retreat echoing faintly down the hall. Once she was gone, Elpenor faced Nidaba and Enkidu, his expression grim yet determined.

Elpenor told both of them what happen.

“I don’t believe you,” Enkidu said, his voice less worried now. “But I’ll check.”

Enkidu raised his hand, his fingers curling as he summoned the power of earth magic. The air around him seemed to hum faintly as the energy took form. His focus sharpened, and he directed the magic inward, searching deep within his chest for metal. He didn’t sense the familiar presence of metal—something tangible, something real—but instead, he felt... nothing.

It was as if Elpenors chest housed a void, an absence so profound that his magic couldn’t grasp or define it. His hand dropped, his expression shadowed by uncertainty.

“I don’t understand,” Enkidu admitted, his tone low and conflicted. “There’s nothing there. It’s... empty. Just a void.”

Has Enkidu furrowed his brow, leaning closer to study him as if the answer might reveal itself in the subtleties of his form. “Other than passing out from the pain and that void, you seem to be fine to go,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting to something lighter. “Just don’t make me have to see you again too soon—I’m not in the mood to patch you up three times in one week.”

A small, wry smile touched Elpenor’s lips despite the lingering unease. “Don’t worry,” he replied, his voice soft but tinged with humor. “I’ll be careful enough that I won’t need your healing again. At least... I’ll try.”