Chapter Seventy-Seven

Four hundred years after the Tower of Eternity had been healed, Sudryl retraced Julius's steps beneath the thawed ruins of Kurngalfberg, before coming to an end, once again, at the unbreachable barriers which had encased and protected the necropolis of almost four thousand years since the Ancient Age.

The last time Julius had been here, was towards the end of Third Age, before Beralin had been taken from her original time and cast into the past.

Julius had sought every way into Amaurea's tomb possible, to find a secret within – if there was one – to advert his Fate and Beralin's. Julius had tried everything. But Amaurea's tomb remained sealed, even to him.

Now, Julius slept an exhausted sleep of despair beneath the sea. He had fulfilled his role perfectly. Julius had done what Aion could not. He healed Atreia, and brought its people back together, taught them to love and forgive, and even now, while Julius slept, Sudryl felt his son's dutiful subconscious remain in all things, gently watching over the world he had been left to look after.

Julius's Fate had been cruel. And Sudryl lamented, because he had lost his son. Julius was still Julius, but he was also more, and less. Julius was now God, but he was also nothing more than an empty shell of what he once was.

Beralin's death, had destroyed him completely.

And for that, Sudryl could never hope to show his face to his son again, because despite how much it had broken Sudryl's own heart, he had pushed his daughter towards her own destruction. She was the sacrifice which had to be made to protect Atreia. She reached the realisation before them all, and made the decision which no one else could.

Sudryl had lost everyone. The Empyrean Lords were no more. His wife had long since passed away. His daughter had joined her, and his son was a mourning God.

Sudryl was tired. So tired. His time upon Atreia had stretched on too long, and with the Displacements of the Dragon Lords a hundred years ago, Sudryl was the oldest existing entity left upon Atreia besides Julius.

Sudryl's shoulders hung heavily with sorrow and loneliness, and he wished for his final release, just as Julius wished to also be released from his role and to have the one thing he cared about, returned to his side. Sudryl wished to join the Aether, to find his wife within the flow of existence.

But their wishes could never be answered by the other, because of who they were.

But there was one who could.

"Amaurea never died," Ereshkigal said. "After Fregion and the others left her there to die from her wounds, I found her and encased her in ice, to soothe her burns and sleep within a frozen tomb of peace and tranquillity. Amaurea'sbody and soul are trapped in limbo. I could not let her die. But nor can she be thawed, for her wounds are too great. I impart upon you the secret to her tomb. Do what you will with this knowledge, Sudryl. I only ask in return, that you face Fregion bymy side."

"Why are you telling me this, Ereshkigal?" Sudryl asked in disbelief.

"If Fregion destroys Aion's Tree, all which Amaurea stood for, shall die with it and Atreia. Amaurea was the one Destined to become God when the time was right. But such a position now falls to Julius. He will fulfil the prophecy. He will become a dutiful God. None are as powerful as he, not you, nor even Fregion," Ereshkigal said.

"But Julius does not want to become God. He never did. Beralin's death willdestroy him."

"And therefore, Julius will eventually slumber when his task is done, and he will never wake again. And within his sleep, Atreia will eventually fall back out of balance," Ereshkigal sighed. "The world needs a living, active God to govern it."

Sudryl's heart twisted with grief. "He will not be able to, even if he tried. The pain of existing alone for eternity will be too much for him to bear."

Ereshkigal turned his ancient, unwavering and frozen stare to Sudryl's equally ancient gaze. "There must always be a God. I did not say it has to be him. How you interpret that, is up to you. But this can only be done after his ascension, because the price . . . is your own existence. The power must be transferred."

Sudryl came to the end of the path he travelled on in the suffocating gloom of the catacombs. He dissolved the wall which barred his way. A barrier lay behind it, and Sudryl deactivated it with the secrets which Ereshkigal had given to him. Beyond the barrier, revealed steps which led down into cloying, freezing shadow.

As Sudryl stood at the top of the stairs, he felt his resolve harden. He came into this world to lead the Empyrean Lords against the Balaur. He was the mouthpiece of Aion. He was Aion's hand, to guide Beralin into fulfilling her Destiny.

The war had long since ended. The Empyrean and Dragon Lords were gone. All had completed their tasks. Now, there was no more need for Sudryl to remain behind. But, he could not release his essence into the Aether like the other Daevas.

There was only one way he could find peace, only one way he could earn his son's forgiveness. One way he could let go.

Sudryl smiled in the dark, as a silent tear slipped down his cheek.

This was a cost which Sudryl would gladly pay.

Sudryl followed the ancient path through the maze which Ereshkigal had laid down. He passed through the roads, streets, corridors and halls of the underground labyrinth city, so old and ancient that even to Sudryl, its name did not exist. Yet even within the ruins, a titan culture echoed and whispered in the dark, stirred like disturbed dust from their eternal, sleeping silence. There were remnants of incredibly advanced technology, of history rich with knowledge and power. Aether saturated every stone, floated in every dust mote, and filled the stagnant air with sleepy strength and age.

The further Sudryl walked, the more stone gave away to ice, and the deep shadows were replaced by the cold blue glow of Ereshkigal's lingering Aether within the encapsulating frost.

Eventually, Sudryl came out into a chamber, as vast as a field, for along the ground, was a meadow of frozen sea holly, twinkling like millions upon millions of tiny, shining white and blue stars.

At the far end, was a wall of ice.

Sudryl brought his wings out, and flew across the beautiful, deadly meadow of sharp and frozen flowers, where he landed at the base of the wall, upon raised ground which was dusted with snow. Only two footprints existed here, though old and faded with time.

Ereshkigal's.

Sudryl stepped into those same prints, and exhaled softly. His breath misted in the chilled air, as he raised his face to the wall of glowing ice and rich and pure Aether.

Within the ice, was a frozen individual. Humanoid in form. Her dark brown hair was fanned around her head. Her armour torn and burned. Her ebony skin had been almost entirely melted away.

Yet despite such horrific injuries, peace was etched across her face. Power still emanated from her, no matter her closeness to death.

As Sudryl gazed up at the form of the original First Dragon Lord, he felt a warmth spread through his heart. Amaurea's presence felt like Julius, and Beralin. Touched and woven by the strings of Fate and Destiny. Chosen by Aion.

Bound through Aion.

Sudryl thought he had been the first Weaver. But no, Amaurea had been the first. She had been the first for everything. And for being the first, she had been struck down by her peers.

Amaurea's tale had been a sad one from the beginning. Like Sudryl's, Julius's and Beralin's. It was the price they all had to pay for being Aion's chosen, for being of His blood and children.

But now, through Sudryl, they would all find the endings they deserved, thousands of years in the waiting. Aion created Sudryl to make the world right, to fight back against the horror Aion had unleashed upon the world. Sudryl's task was almost done now.

Sudryl pulled an object from his pocket, and gazed down at it as his fingers opened.

Beralin's necklace rested in the palm of his hand.

It had been lost to the folds of time and space, disappearing from existence. Only when Julius finally went into his comatose sleep beneath the forgotten continent of Vengar, did the necklace return to reality, to Sudryl.

Upon its materialisation, Sudryl knew his final purpose, as he finally understood what it was he could do with the knowledge and secret Ereshkigal had given him.

The necklace, contained Beralin's promise and oath to never die. The sheer power of her oath and resolve, meant a part of her soul and existence therefore, remained sealed and protected within the emerald gem itself.

She had kept her promise – for Julius. Always for Julius. She was still alive, if barely.

But only a God could bring her back, and it was not Julius, for Julius slumbered, and only another equivalent could now pull him from the deep.

Julius had never wanted to be God.

However, as Ereshkigal said, Atreia just needed a God. The only other one who could take Julius's place and was worthy of it, was Amaurea – the one who should have been God from the very start.

Sudryl inhaled deeply, and closed his fingers over Beralin's necklace. He raised his glowing emerald eyes to the ice, to Amaurea's form, and pressed his palm against the frozen wall.

He transferred his essence and existence, his Aether and power, to flow into Aion's First, Amaurea. And in doing so, he restored her body, healed her wounds, and imparted upon the First Original Dragon Lord all of his knowledge, all of his feelings. He gave her Atreia's history in its entirety.

His memories became hers.

As he faded, Amaurea stirred, and her own emerald eyes slowly opened from within the ice, meeting Sudryl's with a gentle, but fair understanding.

: What do you ask in return for your sacrifice, Sudryl . . . my dear blood brother . . .? Her ancient voice breathed into his mind with unyielding honour and balance. There was both love, and sadness in her voice, love to see Aion's son and to understand him entirely, yet sadness, to say goodbye upon their first and last meeting.

Her feelings were echoed by Sudryl.

: To give my two children what they wish. To live a normal life together. To live, grow old, and die together in peace.

The ice dissolved away, and both children of Aion floated before each other. As Sudryl's form grew more and more transparent, Amaurea's body reformed. Her wounds healed over, her strength and wisdom returned to her, and a timeless clarity awakened in her emerald eyes.

Sudryl held out his hand to her, and there, within the palm of his hand, lay Beralin's necklace.

Amaurea's eyes lingered upon it, before her slender, clawed hand reached out, and grasped Sudryl's hand and the necklace within a gentle, but firm grip.

: For everything you three and the Empyrean Lords have done, for bringing peace, joy and love to the world of Atreia, I will honour your boon. Amaurea brought her eyes up to Sudryl's face. This, I vow.

Within her words, she Wove the Truth. Sudryl knew her honour to be true, as if he had known her their entire lives. For indeed they did, as they were both Aion's son and daughter. He felt love for his long lost sister, and she felt love for her long lost brother.

Tears slipped from Sudryl's eyes, and he smiled.

"Thank you, Amaurea," he whispered.

Amaurea smiled gently. She reached out, and touched her brow to his.

"Sleep at last, Sudryl, my brother. Your wife awaits you on the other side," she sighed.

And so, with his final breath, Sudryl, the Lord of Existence and son of Aion, finally let go, and passed away into memory.

A/N: Tomorrow (Friday) is the last chapter in this epic saga :)