Shadow of the Abyss

The following day, as Altair rolled Syris onto her side where she'd fainted, he yawned, pulling himself up when he noticed a strange video message near the corner of his neurolink interface. He tilted his head, opening up the file, when a video image of his Father appeared.

"Yo… So we just broke out of Pandora's Box. And something went wrong. The curse of our family struck again. We were able to negotiate that the women be set free, but Zariel and I got captured."

Altair nearly gaped, toppling off his bed with a look of disbelief. He was under the impression that his uncle and Father were nearly invincible."

"Laugh it up." Arsene continued with a brooding look. "But with me reaching to the realm of Fell God with Zariels and Aurelia's help, we were quite drained. And we are quite interested in the Ilvarians. We had heard they were tormented by Mephisto for their arrogance, resulting in their near extinction. So don't count on us. Ezra… I mean, Aynaet ought to be able to take care of your needs.

Stay safe out there, son."

"Why does he sound so nonchalant?" Altair lamented, cupping his face. He had no idea what his Father was thinking, but at least his head confirmed something. "The Ilvarians are alive."

Shaking his head, he glanced at Syris and the light dusting of bruises he'd inflicted. He flushed a bit, a little concerned for his lack of control last night, before pulling at his hair. Slowly finding the will to get out of bed, Altair got dressed and left his room, figuring he couldn't just leave everyone on the third floor without a single word.

They were probably all worried.

He was certain Raven was in a state of panic. The image of her flapping her wings in agitation, threatening to find her master at any cost, filled his mind, all but putting a smile on his face as he entered the great halls. But what he found there was beyond his expectations. The Silver Devil himself and Arsene Snow were sipping coffee with an unfamiliar man.

The air was thick with tension, and Altair's heart raced with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Sup!" Arsene said, waving Altair over. "Come hear! Let me have a look at my seed."

"He's practically a man. It's a little unbecoming to call him your seed, especially when he is the Lord of these lands." Zariel added, savoring what seemed like a cappuccino with a light dusting of nutmeg and cinnamon. He looked every bit more regal than his brother, wielding a silly smile as he wrapped his arms around Altair.

"He'll always be my seed," Arsene declared. "How you been, son? We were going to inform you of our arrival last night, but your AI informed us you were trying to make a baby… Her exact words."

Altair had never blushed more fiercely. He coughed, making a mental note to upgrade the AI's etiquette. "It's quite alright. But what are you doing here? I thought that the Ilvarians captured you. What is going on?"

"We negotiated a deal," Zariel answered, lowering his mug and lifting his dazzling eyes to Altair. "You're in need of denizens, and they are in need of a place to stay."

"A place to stay?" Altair frowned. "You didn't suggest my palace?" No matter who Zariel or Arsene might be, there would be no way he'd agree to have men or gods alike he had not vetted lay their heads near his family.

"Outside the palace," Zariel said calmly. "Ivarians, for some reason, require a source of power that gives off a particular type of energy. Ever since my brother released them, they have been searching for such a source. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to withstand the test of time." he lifted his mouth to his lips, savoring his drink with the fever of a man who'd not touched water in days.

"Allow me to explain," the stranger said, rising to his feet. Aged as if his ageless body couldn't withstand the test of time.

Such things bothered the young emperor; only among mortals did he see the elderly. But to see one that was ageless in a sense appear no more than a frail man disturbed him in a way he couldn't quite place.

"My name is Corvin," The Ilvarian said, lowering his head before Altair. Stirring yet another surprise, for he knew this man was perhaps at the peak of cultivation, if not near it. For him to bow his head before a mortal so willing was the last thing he suspected. "And I am the High Elder of my people."

The azure lines across his flesh shimmered. "I implore you. Allow us to stay."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but can't you just create another source? I've read some of the knowledge of the Ilvarians; I'm sure it'll be simple to one of the smartest and oldest races imaginable." Altair said, trying not to get caught up in the sheer emotion emanating from the elderly man.

Altair exchanged glances with his Father, but aside from his silly smile, he could not glean his intentions. It was the same for Zariel, who was more focused on his coffee than what was occurring around him.

"To avoid pointless slaughter, Zariel suggested they stay here. "Arsene suddenly said. "I was kind of against it at first. But he thought it would be good for you. Especially since this could be your chance to cultivate an ancient race."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"We've lost much of the knowledge of our ancestors. Most of us are nearing the end of our lives," Corvin said. "Without a source, we'll die in a few more cycles. That's especially true for the younglings who we kept in Stasis."

"Stasis?"

"In the void of Pandora's Box, there was only darkness. So, for the first ten years of a youngling's life, we taught them everything we could in that limited time while selecting five with the greatest memory to remain and watch over the young while retaining as much knowledge the older generation could instill within them."

'Damn…' Altair thought, not revealing his inner expression. And he said," How many generations?"

"The birth rate of an Ilvarian is not high, so we've only a few hundred thousand. However, it's imperative they take up refuse in these lands. We are even prepared to be your eternal vessels. Your Valeguards, if you will."

Altair didn't immediately grab the opportunity. He still had too many questions. "What generation are you?"

"Me?" Corvin lifted a brow, not expecting such a question. "I'm a second generation. I was alive to see our bodies pulled from our homes. Though I was only a child when it occurred."

"So you ought to know how to create a core? Surely your elders of your time should have…' His voice trailed off at the look of dismay across Corvin.

"W-W-We, we thought that maybe it would be a few years in Pandora's box. But those years turned into cycles, and the cycles turned into Dao Cycles, then Hell Cycles. The system I spoke about was made when all hope was lost, but by then, it was too late. I am the last of my generation. And what knowledge I hold resides mostly around weaponry meant to kill even the strongest of gods."

"And has that knowledge been passed down?"

Corvin nodded. "It has, along with the knowledge held by a few others before their passing." he shook his head, trembling with a tangible shame. 'We have been trying with our all to find some relics of our kind, but time has left it all in the dust."

"Why not go to the angels?"

"Mephisto… the monster who did this to us was once an angel," Corvin said, his shame twisting into something vengeful before it faded. "But this land… this land is a eutopia for our kind. I've only been here for four hours, but I can feel nearly four thousand years of life pour into me."

"And that's what confuses me," Altair remarked. "Why do you need a source? You should be immortal."

Corvin wearily sighed."Not every race is the same. Cultivation might grant immortality to most, but we are not one of them. No matter how strong our bodies and energy might be, we require a specific energy to survive."

"I recommend you take them in," Zariel said, finishing his cup with a childlike glow that slowly faded to a cool steel. "You're in need of people. Strong people and Ilvarians are such. They'll come in quite handy, especially since all Ilvarians don't have a hierarchy when it comes to knowledge, meaning it was shared freely amongst its people.

So, the Palace of Stygian should have an entire archive of its history and more. Keep them. Raise them, and then condition them into a race that was once feared by everyone once more."

Folding his arms, thinking about the pros and cons, Altair looked at Corvin. "If they stay here. They'll be subject to my rules. You'll be subject to my rule. War is already on the horizon for my kingdom."

"The children cannot fight, but those that had their Coming of Age, Rite will have no issue making progress… Your Grace." Corvan said, lowering his head.

Zariel matched Altair's cold smile. "We'll be staying for a while. So if you have a question or are in need of assistance, do not be afraid to call upon us."

"You're staying?"

"Well, we did make a deal with Corvin. And we, too, have to recover our Divinity. Breaking out of Pandora's Box wiped us out. We—"

Snatched off his feet, Altair was whirled around like a child as high-pitched squeals nearly made his ears bleed. "He is sooooooo cute! Dumb-Dumb, you have to give me a daughter! We have two boys already. Mama needs a girl!"

"Ahhh," Zariel lamented. "And this is my wife, your aunt, Aurelia Morningstar. Try not to believe anything she says. She's just like her Father."

Rubbing her cheeks against Altair's, Aurelia sighed. "That baby smell is nearly gone. What a shame." Lowering Altair back to his feet, she patted him on the head like a child and said," Want to help me take over Heaven?"