Deep in the void, focusing on his task was difficult even without the intent and doubtful stare of his young host. Yet despite the importance of it, Erebus didn't mind Rahm's very obvious apprehension while mismatched eyes - white and blue - constantly swiveled between the manifestation of his Ancient and a dark portal made of furiously swirling chains. Made of Abyss, that powered it up and simultaneously forced the bridge through the Rift.
"Is it really enough?" The boy asked at least a fifth time, keeping a tight grip around his knees with both his arms and bristled blonde tail. Feline ears pressed tightly against Rahm's head while a massive panther-like beast woven of darkness rubbed against his hunched back. Taking the position by the very edge of the Ward that kept his soul safe, Esteem was the only thing keeping the nervous boy from tumbling into the void - clearly less scared of it than of the dark opening in reality.
"Have to be," Erebus grunted, pulling apart the arms raised and directed at the chains. The Void around them shuddered, trying to resist, and Pashtarot clenched his teeth, widening his stance. The pressure of aether attempting to close the gap was nearly crushing like gravity trying to punish Erebus for an insolent breach of conduct. He fought it, ilm by ilm, widening the portal until it was about a fulm wide. Not enough to let a person pass, but it should be just wide enough for his insane idea.
Their idea, as even now he could feel Nemesis's aether, securing Rahm's soul to let Erebus commit treason once he would be slaughtered for.
He smirked at the thought, then tossed his host an earlier agreed-upon signal. Eyeing the portal warily, Rahm unclenched his arms, shifted to all fours, and then slowly made his way across the luminous ward. Arriving at Erebus's feet, the boy looked up as if searching for confirmation, and Erebus nodded in encouragement. Rahm took a deep breath, then still kneeling, picked up the small item - one of thirteen set in a circle around Erebus's feet - and exhaled deeply.
"Are you sure about this?" The boy asked, nearly reverently using his hand to frame the wide and translucent chalice. Inside it, sealed long before Eitherys was broken, rested a small luminescent spiral of purple energy. Atop the silver lid rested the mark of Erebus's station - Pashtarot's - while the twelve others of different colors each was branded with the sigil of the other members of Convocation. Only one was missing - the orange chalice of the Traveler - but Erebus allowed himself to believe it was enough - those thirteen keys - to repay the debt he owed.
"More than another breath," he said softly, tossing his host a little sheepish smile. "Now, Rahm, before it closes."
The boy narrowed his mismatched eyes, biting his lower lip, then took another steadying breath. Then he aimed and tossed the luminous chalice at the dark opening. Erebus grunted, and his arms trembled when the Rift shuddered, attempting to reject the item. The chains formed by Abyss sped up, cutting in deeper until the purple strand of light melted into the portal. Taking a shaky breath, he motioned toward the boy to continue, clenching his teeth and forcing the created by him element to cut deeper into the reality with each chalice that crossed the ring. Fighting the gravity of Rift was exhausting, and by the time Rahm chucked the thirteenth glass-like sphere, Erebus was shuddering all over. Only once the light blue chalice of Lahabrea crossed the line of chains he dropped his arms with a groan. His vision swam when the portal instantly closed. He dropped down, bracing on his arms, and fought to stay awake while unconsciousness attempted to drag him under. Erebus shook with a hoarse chuckle when Rahm gingerly touched his shoulder.
"It is done," the blonde boy whispered, and Erebus looked up to where, a moment ago, his decision - and deed - committed the crime the Convocation of old would have his head for.
Or, as he preferred to think of it, he righted the wrong committed by their forgone society.
"So it is," he muttered, then sat back and raised his face toward the swirling shades of the void above the ward. "It's going to take time until they cross the void, and then... Then I pray Nemesis's calculations were correct, boy. Otherwise, we just doomed all of the broken Eitherys to a fate worse than destruction," he closed his bright, purple eyes and hummed a hoarse laugh when Rahm blew a raspberry, tiredly sagging against his side. Esteem, apparently dared by the silence, neared them and soon planted itself in a half-circle beside them on its side.
"Is the rrrisk worrrth it?" It growled, and Erebus snorted, lowering and opening his eyes to wink at the beast.
"So I hope," he replied. Then he exhaled deeply and closed his eyes again, taking comfort in their warmth.
As the eldest of surviving Ancients and one to be a member of Convocation long before Venat, followed by Ares, joined it, he was the last to know its greatest treasure and secret.
It's - and his - shame in covering up the result of the worst possible outcome of the rules governing their society.
If he could prevent it, Erebus was determined for those of younger generations to never learn of the true scope of the corruption that took place long before they took their first breath. The rot that led to the creation of the most aberrant magic to exist.
Entropy - the most powerful and destructive gift. Designed to be the very pinnacle of all magic - and broken into fourteen pieces to serve the ruling body of their star. Broken because the members of the Convocation grew far too terrified of the possibilities of the magic that - impossible as it should be - evolved. The only gift to ever be named - and buried - with each of them magically vowed to never be able to speak of it.
Even now, long past the destruction wrought on Eitherys, Erebus was unable to explain to either of them - his wife and her host included - the exact reason behind his plan. All he could impart to his Nem was that this was the way to repay their debt to a soul they owed more than their new existence. More than the life of their son - his freedom and happiness.
...if it does work.
"I still don't get it," Rahm groused, not-so-delicately nudging his side and Erebus looked at the boy's frown with raised eyebrows. Rahm waved his hand toward the new dark crystal set on the northern edge of the Ward. The crystal - Damon's way to fix the fluctuating aether - was made of condensed Abyss. Erebus was nearly amused by the irony of it, considering that, in a way, it was his fault in the first place. Admittedly, he didn't predict the elements going berserk in answer to the dispersion of darkness... but if it works, that risk should also pay off. He hoped. "Thankful as I am, Erebus, for Damon saving us and Shtola... shouldn't we tell him it's our fault?"
"Mine alone, boy," he reminded, and Rahm grimaced.
"Ours," he insisted, dropping his arm in his lap. "I could have said no. I didn't know this would happen, but... I still did what asked, and I'm ready to answer for it."
"No," Erebus shook his head and ruffled the boy's blonde hair fondly. "You trusted my judgment, Rahm, and if anyone's responsible for the mess I created, it's me," he sighed, then took a deep breath. He wound his arm around Seeker's shoulders and pulled Rahm to his side. He couldn't disclose the details - guarding it spell was that potent - but he could dance around the truth to imprint on his host how important - and dangerous - was what they just did. "Others are too young to remember it, Rahm, but once I took the Seat of Pashtarot - keeper of order and discipline - my first act was to ban the tradition of discarding the young whose gifts were deemed too dangerous. It was a tricky thing to do," he softened his voice when the boy stilled and grew tense with a barely audible growl. "I postulated that it's a waste hampering our people's goal. After all, often even the members of Convocation couldn't agree as to what they deemed dangerous in the first place. As time went by, they changed, and their successors eventually forgot that there was such tradition in the first place... But as pleased as I was with that achievement, it wasn't without a price."
"By discarding... you mean killing?" The boy asked with another audibly angry sound.
"'Forcing the failures back into the aetherial sea,'" he replied with disdain and then sighed heavily. "Then, a few centuries later, certain scholar approached the Convocation with a result of her... experiment. As you know, youth often inherit a magnified version of their parents' skills. That woman - considered brilliant for her dedication to her research - herself had an interesting ability. Able to briefly copy and magnify the gifts of others, she grew curious - as she explained - as to how her offspring could serve the betterment of Eitherys. Picking a partner with a minor but very useful ability, she set to realize her ambition... and got more than she bargained for. Her son - right past manifesting his gift when she presented him to the Convocation after the recommendation for Bureo of the Architect - was something... none of us expected. With a mere look, he copied the abilities of others, stored them, and - most importantly - forced them to evolve as his understanding of them grew. And with impossible memory and intelligence to match... for once, all the members of the Convocation agreed that the possibilities of such ability were too dangerous and unpredictable. And it took all of us to nip that bud before it could bloom into its full terrifying potential. Neuter the boy, basically, leaving him with a shade of his gift and no recollection of what occurred. What we didn't predict..." he choked as the leash of the spell closed his throat.
"...huh? What?" Rahm asked, blinking his mismatched eyes with confusion. "What you didn't predict? And what does that story have to do with chucking those glass... things into the remains of Thirteen?"
Everything, Erebus thought wryly, but shook his head, aware he hit the limitations of the spell.
The pocket dimension left after the destruction of the Thirteen Reflection, as Nemesis suggested, shouldn't truly be empty. And after using Rahm's alignment to darkness to speed up the process of draining it of dark aether, it should leave it - the Reflection-sized void - stuffed with what caused the explosion of Thirteen in the first place. Dispersed and abandoned aether - of a very particular person who gave it up to save the people whom he loved more than himself.
An aether that was - in its nature - mind, and memories of one whom Erebus owed more than he was ever likely to be able to express. And what Damon couldn't remember or know - an aether that was a mere shard of his real capabilities - once split into pieces.
...we couldn't predict that even split from its host at his youth was far too late, he finished the thought, smiling toward Rahm's confused expression wryly. That even apart, it'll keep evolving until only the very literal and physical split can contain it. Imbued into fourteen keys, aligned to their bearers, was the only way to hinder its endless evolution.
An effort he just about wrecked and felt no regret about. Their world was dead, and so were their rules. And if this insanity worked, perhaps this broken new world was the only fitting environment for a force as chaotic as Entropy.
Admittedly, he couldn't wait to find out.