Chapter Eight: Godsdeath
Throughout the Heavens- 19 Nightal, 1369 DR
Kathryn sped through the heavens, willing herself to move faster, faster, faster. She could sense the fading power of Milil, the Lord of All Song, and she felt panic rising in her soul, for she could also sense who it was that was killing the god.
Cyric.
Cyric, Lord of Murder, was using some method unknown to her to trap Milil from the godly and mortal realms. The Lord of Song was getting weaker, and if Cyric gained his power over song, then nothing Kathryn could do bring any benefit to the Realms.
If Cyric gained the portfolio of song, then despair and madness and strife would flower like the harvest crop, and nothing Kathryn could do would stop it. So she had to save Milil. She had to somehow find the place where Cyric had trapped the god, and rescue from it.
So she called on every ounce of her strength, to thrash through the planes, sending her mind before her, feeling for any disharmony in the fabrics of the universe, to sense for any inconsistencies that were harboured.
And as she soared, she shrieked out for aid, calling on the few of her faithful to pray for her, to give their strength so that she had some hope of succeeding in her desperate attempt to save the power of song from corruptions of evil.
Her loyal servants prayed, and she felt her strength growing, supported by the bright pyres of their faith. Their determination flashed- mirrored in her own form, and this made her push herself forward that little bit faster.
Milil was fading more quickly, and echoing through her mind, Kathryn could hear the chilling words of victory, spoken by Cyric. Around her, she sensed other gods moving- they had sensed the disappearance of Milil, and were acting, but they were being held back by gods who would profit by Cyric's victory- Talos, Umberlee, Shar…
It was up to her.
Up to Kathryn.
Directing all her energy, she tore a gaping hole in the planar barriers, and saw the fading light of Milil's soul, trapped deep in a dark void. Above him, hovered Cyric, radiant in stolen power, flaming around him like multitudes of dark stars.
"Milil! Break free! Break free from his grasp, or all is lost!"
Nothing but silence came from the lips of the dying god, but his eyes stared at her in desperation. Kathryn could feel the mutation of his music, the warping of the pure and beautiful notes, into something dark and terrible, something chaotic and evil. She screamed, and the sounds of harp song surrounded Milil, desperately trying to spark some life into him, desperately exhorting him to stop the mutation of his song.
Cyric laughed, and whispered malevolently, "Little goddess, I am so unconcerned by your interference, that I will allow you to watch my victory over the weak and vulnerable song, and then you can see your precious music become my tool! Mine!"
Kathryn bowed her head, feeling his energies crash above her, in the heights of the void. She extended her hand towards Milil, and felt a slight touch from the god, who was desperately struggling against the might of Cyric. The God of Madness turned to Kathryn, and roared, "Get away from him! Get away from him, or I will destroy you in an instant!"
Kathryn remained where she was, now holding firmly to Milil's hand, allowing her own power to leak into the soul of the Lord of Song, in a ditch effort to keep him alive. Cyric saw what she was doing, and shrieked again, "I will destroy you easily; you are no match for me, Kathryn!"
Energies lashed out, but something stopped them from reaching her. Kathryn looked up, and saw Mystra, floating towards them. Her voice echoed, haughty, throughout the void, as she said, "Kathryn may not be a match for you, Cyric, but I most certainly am!"
Kathryn quailed as Cyric and Mystra clashed above her, energies rolling around. The power being unleashed was incredible. Nothing she had ever felt in her mortal or godly life could have prepared her for this.
Nothing.
Kathryn shuddered, as more and more gods arrived, siding with either Mystra or Cyric. Cataclysmic forces were unleashed, so much so that the heavens quivered, strands of pure energy flying loose.
Across Faerûn, storms broke and waves shattered against the coast. Wizards found their spells fragmented, as Mystra was too gripped in her conflict with Cyric to tend to the Weave. Priests of Helm prayed urgently to the guardian as they saw his divine form fighting the darkness of Talos.
And as the gods fought and tore at each other, none noticed when Milil, Lord of All Song, died, with a gasping breath and a shriek of torment.
Nobody noticed when his power over song faded from Faerûn.
Nobody noticed the silent agreement between Kathryn and Milil, which allowed the power of song to flow into the divine veins of Kathryn, Lady of Harps… now Lady of All Song.
Everybody noticed though, when she leapt into the fray alongside Mystra, Helm, Torm… all the good gods felt the benefits of her benevolent singing, as they were spurred to greater lengths in their combat.
Cyric screamed in pure rage, and disappeared.
Mystra turned her pure silver spear, and threw it towards Umberlee, who also disappeared.
One after the other, the gods disappeared.
A battle had been fought, the prizes had been given- and lost.
For now, peace returned to the heavens…
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