Gng3
"You don't have to," Caelan said, though he made no move to distance himself from her touch.
"I know," she replied with a small smile. "That's what makes it meaningful."
They sat in companionable silence as stars wheeled overhead in unfamiliar patterns. Castoria eventually dozed off despite her best intentions, her head coming to rest against Caelan's shoulder. He remained motionless, allowing her to sleep undisturbed—a small courtesy that would have seemed impossible from the severe god-killer they had first encountered.
Dawn broke with strange beauty over the Consecrated Plateau, light filtering through the fractured sky in kaleidoscopic patterns. The former goddesses awakened gradually, each in their own manner—Tomoe alert and ready in an instant, Beast Koyanskaya stretching languorously like the predator she had once been, Summer Morgan taking time to compose herself before acknowledging the new day.
Several noticed Castoria's position against Caelan's shoulder but tactfully avoided comment. It was Beast Koyanskaya who finally broke the unspoken agreement, her fox ears twitching with mischief.
"Well, isn't this cozy?" she observed, sidling up to Caelan's other side. "Room for one more, godslayer?"
Castoria awakened with a start, blushing furiously as she realized her position. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"No harm done," Caelan assured her, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. His expression betrayed nothing, but those watching closely might have noticed his hand lingering briefly on Castoria's shoulder—a gentle squeeze of reassurance before he stepped away.
Female ORT had made remarkable progress overnight. The crystalline minerals U-Olga Marie had located had been incorporated into her structure, allowing her to form temporary prosthetics for her lower limbs. They were crude but functional, enabling her to move independently once more.
"Ingenious adaptation," Caelan observed, inspecting her repairs with professional approval. "But the godrot corruption?"
"Contained, not eliminated," Female ORT confirmed, the blackflame barrier still visible within her crystalline matrix. "I estimate approximately three days before the containment fails without intervention."
"Then we move quickly," Caelan decided. "Malacanth said to follow the lightning. From this elevation, we should be able to see our destination."
Caelan led them to the plateau's northern edge, where the landscape fell away into a vast expanse of blighted terrain. In the far distance, barely visible through swirling fog and atmospheric distortion, loomed a floating mass of shattered stone—a citadel suspended in air by forces that defied conventional physics.
Around and through the floating ruins, massive bolts of lightning arced continuously, illuminating the fragments in brief, brilliant flashes that revealed glimpses of impossible architecture.
"Farum Azula," Caelan named it. "The ancient dragon stronghold, now a graveyard of time itself."
"It's... beautiful," Origin Space Ishtar breathed, her cosmic senses responding to the obvious dimensional anomalies.
"And deadly," Caelan added pragmatically. "Time doesn't flow naturally there. Some chambers exist in past, present, and future simultaneously. Others are caught in loops, repeating the same moments eternally."
"Perfect for restructuring a crystalline being," U-Olga Marie noted, her analytical mind already processing possibilities. "The temporal flux could allow ORT to reintegrate her form across multiple time-states."
"Assuming we reach it," Tomoe pointed out, her warrior's eye assessing the treacherous terrain that separated them from the floating citadel. "That's easily two days' journey across open ground."
"Two days if we're lucky," Caelan corrected. "The land between here and Farum Azula was once the domain of ancient dragons. Their remnants still patrol, hunting anything that carries the scent of the gods."
"Which we all do," Summer Morgan concluded with a sigh. "Naturally."
"Not just dragons," Caelan continued. "The Collector's influence has been spreading. We should expect resistance—organized, purposeful."
"Then we need a plan," Space Ereshkigal declared, her spear glinting in the morning light. "A direct approach would expose us to maximum risk."
"Agreed," Caelan nodded, his tactical mind already formulating strategies. "We'll need to—"
A deep, reverberating sound interrupted him—not quite a horn blast, not quite thunder, but something between the two that seemed to shake the very air around them. Echo growled in response, metallic fur bristling along its spine.
"What was that?" Castoria asked, her hand tightening on her Erdtree staff.
"A challenge," Caelan replied grimly, drawing his Godslayer Greatsword in a fluid motion. "Someone knows we're here and wants us to know they're coming."
As if in confirmation, the sound came again—closer this time, emanating from the mist-shrouded lowlands beneath the plateau.
"Defensive formation," Caelan commanded, his voice carrying absolute authority. "Ranged weapons at the perimeter, melee defenders inside. ORT and Tiamat in the center—they're prime targets for the Collector's forces."
The former goddesses moved with impressive coordination, their makeshift battle formation taking shape with practiced ease despite their relatively short time together. Echo positioned itself at the edge of the plateau, godrot eyes scanning the mists below with predatory intensity.
The wait was mercifully brief. The mists parted to reveal their challenger—a figure astride a mount that defied easy categorization. It resembled a horse in basic structure, but its flesh was a patchwork of godrot-infused materials, and where its head should have been, there was only a writhing mass of golden energy.
The rider was human in form but clad in armor that mirrored Caelan's own—black metal etched with runes of power, though these glowed with sickly golden light rather than blackflame. A helm shaped like a crown of thorns concealed the rider's face, and in one hand they carried a staff topped with a fragment of what appeared to be Erdtree bark.
"Another god-killer," Void Shiki whispered, her pale violet eyes wide with recognition. "But twisted. Wrong."
"Not another," Caelan corrected, his voice flat with certainty. "A reflection. Created by the Collector from fragments of my own essence."
The rider halted its mount at the base of the plateau, then raised its staff in a deliberate gesture of challenge. When it spoke, its voice carried with unnatural clarity despite the distance.
"Ashbrand," it called, the word both greeting and accusation. "The flame that outlasted. The collector sends her regards."
"Send them back," Caelan replied, moving to the edge of the plateau to face the rider directly. "With my denial attached."
The rider laughed—a sound eerily similar to Caelan's own rare chuckle, but distorted, hollow. "Denial? Of what? Your inevitable contribution to the new order? The Collector doesn't require your cooperation, only your essence."
"And the former goddesses?" Caelan asked, his tactical mind gathering information even as he prepared for conflict. "What does she want with them?"
"Seeds," the rider replied simply. "Divine seeds from other realities, to be planted in the fertile soil of the Collector's new domain. They will grow again—not as they were, but as she designs. Aspects of a greater whole."
Beast Koyanskaya hissed in undisguised revulsion. "I've been no one's puppet before. I'm certainly not starting now."
"Choice is an illusion you no longer have," the rider stated. "The divine reclamation has begun. Submit now, and the process will be... less uncomfortable."
"I've heard similar promises before," Caelan responded, blackflame beginning to curl around his Godslayer Greatsword. "From gods who now exist only in memory."
The rider's mount pawed at the ground, godrot-infused hooves leaving smoldering imprints. "Last chance, Ashbrand. The Collector is willing to incorporate you wholly—your consciousness preserved alongside hers in the new divine hierarchy. Resist, and you'll be broken down to base essence, your identity erased."
"Neither option appeals," Caelan replied dryly. Then, with deadly seriousness: "Leave now. This is your only warning."
The rider's response was immediate and violent. Golden energy erupted from its staff, coalescing into a spear of corrupted Erdtree essence that hurtled toward Caelan with devastating speed.
Caelan didn't dodge. Instead, he met the attack head-on, his Godslayer Greatsword cleaving through the golden energy with a spray of blackflame. The two forces collided in a shower of conflicting magic, neither fully negating the other.
"It wields powers similar to yours," Tomoe observed, her warrior's eye quick to assess the tactical implications. "A true reflection."
"Similar, not identical," Caelan corrected, already preparing for the next exchange. "It lacks conviction."
As if to disprove his assessment, the rider charged up the plateau's slope, its mount moving with impossible speed across the challenging terrain. Golden energy trailed from its staff, forming patterns in the air that resembled corrupted versions of Caelan's own incantations.
"Stay behind me," Caelan commanded the former goddesses. "This opponent is specifically designed to counter my techniques. Your unfamiliar approaches might create opportunities."
The rider reached the plateau's edge in seconds, its mount leaping the final distance to land with earth-shaking force mere meters from their position. Up close, the corruption was even more evident—the armor that mirrored Caelan's own was cracked in places, revealing not flesh beneath but swirling godrot essence held together by golden energy.
"Terra Magica," the rider intoned, its voice a distorted echo of Caelan's own. A corrupted version of the enhancement sigil appeared beneath its feet, boosting its magical abilities.
Caelan didn't hesitate. "Ancient Dragon's Lightning Strike!" Massive bolts of red-gold lightning crashed down around the rider, forcing it to abandon its casting and take evasive action.
What followed was a duel of devastating precision—two beings wielding nearly identical powers with completely different intentions. Where Caelan's techniques were clean, decisive, aimed at swift conclusion, the rider's were corrupted versions designed to maximize suffering and essence extraction.
"Blackflame Tornado," Caelan called, spinning to build momentum as blackflame coalesced around his blade. The divine-hunting fire erupted in a vortex that rushed toward the rider with consuming hunger.
"Godflame Cocoon," the rider countered, golden energy weaving around it in a protective shell that partially absorbed the blackflame while redirecting the remainder.
They clashed again and again, each exchange revealing both similarities and crucial differences in their fighting styles. Caelan fought with the fluid precision of one who had mastered every technique through countless iterations. The rider fought with raw power and unexpected variations—corrupted versions of familiar attacks that forced Caelan to constantly adapt.
"They're evenly matched," U-Olga Marie observed with scientific detachment. "Each perfectly designed to counter the other."
"No," Void Shiki disagreed, her pale violet eyes seeing deeper patterns. "The rider burns essence with each attack. Caelan does not. It's a battle of attrition that the reflection cannot win."
As if sensing this fundamental disadvantage, the rider abruptly changed tactics. Instead of continuing to engage Caelan directly, it wheeled its mount around and charged toward the former goddesses, golden staff aimed directly at Female ORT's crystalline form.
"The damaged one first," it declared. "Her essence is already leaking. Easy to harvest."
Caelan moved with impossible speed, placing himself between the rider and his charges. "Comet Azur!" A beam of pure cosmic energy erupted from his outstretched hand, forcing the rider to veer sharply to avoid being disintegrated.
The maneuver, however, had accomplished its purpose—separating Caelan from the group enough to create vulnerability. The rider's mount circled with unnatural agility, golden energy gathering at the tip of its staff for a wide-area attack that would engulf the former goddesses.
"Together!" Castoria called, raising her Erdtree staff. "Like at Last Grace! Target the mount first!"
The former goddesses didn't hesitate. With the coordination of beings who had once commanded cosmic forces, they unleashed their godbone weapons in perfect harmony.
Tomoe's lightning katana sent arcs of red electricity toward the mount's legs. Beast Koyanskaya's vapor daggers solidified at the perfect moment to slice through corrupted flesh. Summer Morgan's frost rapier created patches of immobilizing ice beneath its hooves. Space Ereshkigal's matter-shifting spear disrupted the very substance of its godrot-infused body.
Origin Space Ishtar's cosmic bow released arrows that pierced dimensional weak points. U-Olga Marie's analytical staff identified and targeted structural vulnerabilities. Even Female ORT contributed, her crystalline form projecting refractive patterns that confused an Even Female ORT contributed, her crystalline form projecting refractive patterns that confused and disoriented the mount's godrot-infused senses.
The combined assault accomplished what individual attacks could not. The mount faltered, its patchwork legs buckling beneath it as conflicting magics disrupted its unnatural cohesion. The rider leapt clear of the collapsing beast with inhuman grace, landing in a three-point stance that mirrored Caelan's preferred combat posture.
"Impressive coordination," it acknowledged, golden energy still swirling around its staff. "The Collector will be pleased with your potential."
"You won't live to tell her," Caelan responded, blackflame intensifying around his Godslayer Greatsword as he closed the distance between them.
The rider met his charge with a flurry of corrupted incantations—golden versions of Caelan's own techniques that clashed with his blackflame in explosions of conflicting energy. Each exchange revealed both combatants adjusting, learning, adapting to the other's patterns.
"We need to help him," Castoria urged, her teal eyes fixed on the titanic duel unfolding before them.
"Wait," Void Shiki cautioned, her pale violet eyes seeing deeper patterns in the conflict. "There's a moment approaching—a nexus of possibility. We must act precisely then."
The rider, growing desperate as its essence continued to burn away with each exchange, attempted a final, devastating technique. "Ashbrand Tempest!" it declared, attempting to invoke Caelan's ultimate combination attack.
But the corrupted version lacked the perfect harmony of blackflame and cosmic energy that Caelan had mastered through countless cycles. The golden energy wavered, disrupted by its own internal contradictions.
"Now!" Void Shiki commanded, sensing the critical moment.
Without hesitation, the former goddesses channeled their remaining strength through their godbone weapons, focusing not on the rider directly, but on the unstable tempest it was struggling to control.
Their combined energies—Tomoe's lightning, Beast Koyanskaya's vapor manipulation, Summer Morgan's frost, Space Ereshkigal's matter shifting, Origin Space Ishtar's cosmic perception, U-Olga Marie's analysis, Female ORT's refractions, Tiamat's primordial understanding, and Castoria's Erdtree blessing—struck the wavering golden energy simultaneously.
The reaction was catastrophic for the rider. Its corrupted tempest collapsed inward, golden energy imploding before erupting outward in a nova of uncontrolled divine essence. The rider's armor cracked open, revealing not a being inside but a swirling vortex of godrot held together by failing golden bindings.
Caelan didn't waste the opportunity. With perfect timing, he leapt through the chaos, his Godslayer Greatsword wreathed in pure blackflame untainted by compromise or corruption.
"This is the difference between us," he declared as his blade cleaved through the rider's disintegrating form. "I chose my purpose. You were merely designed for yours."
The rider gave one final, distorted cry—not of pain, but of release—as blackflame consumed its essence, burning away the godrot corruption and freeing whatever fragments of true divinity had been harvested to create it.
As the last embers of the rider's existence faded, an unexpected change came over Caelan. The blackflame that perpetually smoldered within his Maliketh armor flared briefly brighter, taking on golden undertones before settling back to its usual intensity.
"Did you just..." Beast Koyanskaya began, her slitted eyes widening with realization.
"Absorb its essence," Caelan confirmed, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. "Not corruption, but the pure divine fragments the Collector had harvested. They return to where similar essence already resides."
"Within you," U-Olga Marie concluded, her analytical mind quickly processing the implications. "You're a repository of divine essence, just as the Collector claimed."
"The difference being consent," Caelan corrected, his steel-grey eyes scanning the horizon for further threats. "The gods I silenced became part of me because that was the natural outcome of our conflict. The Collector harvests essence by force, disrupting the natural flow of divine energy."
"And that's why she wants you," Tiamat said, her ancient understanding allowing her to see patterns the others missed. "You represent a perfected version of what she's attempting through corruption."
Caelan didn't confirm or deny this assessment, already focused on their next steps. "The rider was a distraction, meant to delay us while the Collector gathers her forces. We need to move quickly toward Farum Azula."
"But the journey will take days across open ground," Summer Morgan pointed out, the practical concern breaking through her usual cool reserve.
"Not necessarily," Caelan replied, a thoughtful expression crossing his severe features. "The rider's essence carried fragments of my own abilities. Including one I rarely use due to its... unpredictable nature."
"Which is?" Tomoe asked, her warrior's instinct sensing a tactical shift.
"Unseen Form," Caelan explained. "A technique that conceals presence from most divine senses. Combined with Echo's ability to find safe paths through the godrot, we might reach Farum Azula in a single day."
The technique proved both effective and disorienting. Caelan's "Unseen Form" didn't render them invisible in the conventional sense—they could still see each other—but it wrapped them in a field of altered perception that made divine entities overlook their presence. The sensation was strange, like existing slightly out of phase with the surrounding reality.
Echo led them unerringly through the blighted landscape, avoiding concentrations of godrot and remnant patrols with uncanny precision. The metallic watchdog seemed to have developed a particular protective interest in Female ORT, staying close to her side and occasionally supporting her when her crystalline prosthetics struggled with difficult terrain.
They made remarkable progress through the day, the floating ruins of Farum Azula growing steadily larger against the fractured sky. By late afternoon, they had reached the base of what appeared to be a massive, partially collapsed bridge—once a physical connection to the floating citadel, now ending abruptly in mid-air several hundred meters from their destination.
"The Suspended Causeway," Caelan identified it, examining the ancient stonework with tactical assessment. "One of the few remaining approaches to Farum Azula that doesn't require flight."
"But it's broken," Space Ereshkigal observed, her spear pointing toward the obvious gap between the causeway's end and the floating ruins. "How do we cross?"
"Time flows differently here," Caelan explained, leading them onto the massive bridge. "In some moments, the causeway exists in its complete state. In others, it's as we see it now. We need to find a convergence point where past and present overlap."
The journey across the Suspended Causeway was unsettling in ways none of them had anticipated. As they progressed, subtle changes occurred in their surroundings—stonework repairing itself briefly before crumbling again, ancient banners materializing then fading from existence, and most disturbing of all, ghostly figures moving past them on unknown errands from times long past.
"Don't interact with them," Caelan warned when Beast Koyanskaya instinctively reached out toward a passing phantom. "They're echoes, not real beings. Engaging them can trap you in their time-state."
When they reached the causeway's broken end, Caelan halted them with a raised hand. "This is the convergence point. When I give the signal, we move as one. Don't stop, don't look back, don't hesitate even for an instant."
He closed his eyes, sensing the temporal fluctuations around them with abilities enhanced by countless cycles of existence. After several tense moments, his eyes snapped open, glowing with faint red-orange fire.
"Now!"
They sprinted forward as one, following Caelan across the seeming emptiness where the bridge had once extended. For a heart-stopping moment, there was nothing beneath their feet but open air—then reality shimmered, and ancient stonework materialized beneath them, solid but transparent, like structures from a time not quite their own.
They ran without stopping, crossing the spectral bridge as it manifested just ahead of their steps and dissolved just behind them. When they finally reached the floating landmass of Farum Azula proper, several collapsed in exhaustion, the strain of sprinting through temporal instability taking its toll.
"That was..." Space Ereshkigal gasped, "not an experience I wish to repeat."
"Agreed," Summer Morgan said, attempting to maintain dignity despite her labored breathing. "Though I must admit, the concept of running through time itself has a certain poetic quality."
"We've only reached the outer periphery," Caelan informed them, seemingly unaffected by the exertion. "The Dragon's Crucible lies deeper within, at Farum Azula's heart."
After a brief rest to recover their strength, they continued into the floating ruins. Farum Azula was unlike anything the former goddesses had encountered before—a city built not for human habitation but for dragons, with proportions that defied conventional architecture. Massive hallways opened into chambers large enough to house titans, staircases spiraled impossibly between fragments that should not have connected, and throughout it all, constant lightning illuminated the strange geometries in brief, brilliant flashes.
But most disconcerting was the temporal distortion that permeated everything. In some chambers, they witnessed the same event repeating endlessly—a vase falling from a pedestal, shattering, then reforming to fall again. In others, they saw reversed chronology—water flowing upward, flames receding into unburnt wood, dust gathering into intact structures.
"How do you navigate this place?" U-Olga Marie asked, her analytical mind struggling with the illogical temporal patterns. "There's no consistent framework."
"You don't navigate Farum Azula," Caelan replied, moving with confident purpose despite the chaos around them. "You synchronize with it. Match your internal time to its fluctuations."
"That's not particularly helpful advice," Beast Koyanskaya commented dryly, her fox ears flattening in annoyance as she passed through a doorway and briefly experienced herself moving backward.
As they ventured deeper, the ruins became more intact, suggesting they were approaching regions less affected by whatever cataclysm had shattered the dragon citadel. The architecture grew more deliberate, with intricate carvings depicting ancient dragons performing rituals around what appeared to be pools of living lightning.
"The Crucible imagery becomes more prominent here," Caelan observed, indicating a particularly elaborate carving. "We're on the right path."
Their progress was interrupted by a sudden temporal shift so violent that it knocked several of them off their feet. The very walls around them flickered between states of existence—sometimes solid stone, sometimes crumbling ruins, sometimes nothing at all.
"Major instability," Caelan warned, his steel-grey eyes narrowing as he assessed the fluctuations. "Something's disrupting the natural flow."
A roar echoed through the shifting architecture—ancient, powerful, and unmistakably draconic. Echo growled in response, its metallic fur bristling with either recognition or warning.
"Ancient dragon?" Tomoe asked, her lightning katana already drawn in anticipation.
"No," Caelan replied grimly. "Something older. A dragon ancestor."
The creature that appeared before them defied conventional categorization. It resembled a dragon in basic structure, but its body seemed composed of living lightning contained within a skeletal framework of divine bone. Where eyes should have been, there were only swirling vortices of temporal energy that bent light around them in impossible patterns.
"Time-Devourer," Caelan named it, drawing his Godslayer Greatsword in a fluid motion. "A failed experiment from when the dragons first discovered the Crucible's power."
The Time-Devourer fixed its temporal vortex eyes on them, ancient intelligence assessing these intruders into its domain. When it spoke, its voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously, words overlapping as multiple time-states expressed themselves concurrently.
"Godslayer/Flame-Bearer/Cycle-Walker," it addressed Caelan, each title spoken from a different temporal position. "You bring/brought/will bring the divine-touched to the Crucible again/before/after."
"We seek healing for one of our companions," Caelan replied, addressing the creature with cautious respect. "Nothing more."
The Time-Devourer's skeletal head tilted at an angle that suggested curiosity. "The crystal-being/star-fragment/world-shard. Yes/No/Perhaps." Its gaze shifted to Female ORT, whose crystalline form seemed to resonate with the temporal energies around them. "Corrupted/Changing/Becoming."
"Can you help her?" Castoria asked, stepping forward with fairy queen courage despite the overwhelming presence of the ancient entity.
"Help/Harm/Transform," the Time-Devourer responded cryptically. "I guard/guide/govern the approach to the Crucible. None pass without proving their temporal synchronicity."
"A test," Caelan translated for the others. "It wants to ensure we can withstand the Crucible's temporal fluctuations."
"And how exactly do we prove 'temporal synchronicity' to a creature that exists in multiple time-states simultaneously?" Beast Koyanskaya asked, her tail swishing with nervous energy.
The Time-Devourer answered by creating a phenomenon that defied rational explanation. The space around them separated into distinct temporal chambers—eleven in total, one for each of them including Echo. Within each chamber, reality operated according to different rules: in some, time flowed backward; in others, it accelerated or slowed; in still others, it looped or branched or collapsed into singularities.
"Synchronize," the Time-Devourer commanded from all chambers simultaneously. "Find the path/truth/self that exists across all time-states."
"It's dividing us," Tomoe realized with alarm. "We need to stay together!"
But it was too late. The temporal chambers solidified, separating them completely from one another. Each found themselves facing a personalized challenge based on their unique relationship with time and divinity.
For Caelan, the challenge was perhaps the most complex. His chamber contained echoes of all his past cycles—the different paths he had walked, the choices he had made, the gods he had slain or served or replaced. He saw himself as Elden Lord, as Lord of Frenzied Flame, as consort to the Age of Stars. He witnessed his own evolution from nothing to everything, from mortal to god-killer.
"Synchronize," the Time-Devourer repeated within his chamber. "Which is the true path/self/purpose?"
Understanding dawned in Caelan's steel-grey eyes. "None of them," he replied with the certainty of one who had transcended cycles. "And all of them. I am not defined by paths taken but by the ability to choose between them."
In Castoria's chamber, she faced echoes of her prophesied role as Child of Prophecy—the fate that had been imposed upon her without consent. She watched versions of herself accepting or rejecting this destiny, succeeding or failing, living or dying.
"Which fate is true?" the Time-Devourer asked her.
"The one I choose now," Castoria answered with quiet conviction. "Not what was prophesied, but what I create with my own hands."
Each of the former goddesses faced similar challenges, confronting aspects of their divine nature and mortal vulnerability across multiple time-states. Summer Morgan reconciled her fairy queen pride with her newfound mortal dignity. Beast Koyanskaya acknowledged the predatory nature that existed independent of her divine status. Tomoe Gozen embraced the warrior's discipline that transcended her oni bloodline.
Space Ereshkigal and Origin Space Ishtar recognized the cosmic awareness that remained even without their control over space itself. U-Olga Marie discovered that her analytical mind operated according to principles that existed beyond temporal constraints. Void Shiki accepted that her ability to see death was an insight, not merely a power to be wielded.
Tiamat, perhaps most profoundly, realized that her maternal nature—her instinct to nurture and protect—existed independently of her ability to create life from nothing. And Female ORT found that her crystalline nature allowed her to exist simultaneously across multiple time-states, making her uniquely suited to the Crucible's energies.
Even Echo, the metallic watchdog, faced its own temporal challenge—reconciling its original purpose as divine guardian with its new role as protective companion.
When each had found their personal synchronicity—the core self that existed consistently across all time-states—the chambers dissolved, reuniting them in a shared space that somehow incorporated aspects of all eleven temporal experiences.
The Time-Devourer regarded them with what might have been approval. "Synchronized/Harmonized/Unified," it declared. "Worthy of the Crucible's gift/challenge/transformation."
With that pronouncement, the ancient entity moved aside, revealing a passageway that hadn't existed moments before—or perhaps had always existed in a time-state they couldn't previously perceive.
"The path to the Dragon's Crucible lies beyond," Caelan explained, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. "We should move quickly before the temporal alignment shifts again."
As they followed the newly revealed path, a strange intimacy had developed between them—born from witnessing aspects of each other's most private temporal challenges. They had seen each other's core selves, stripped of both divine grandeur and mortal pretense, revealing the essential beings beneath.
"That was..." Beast Koyanskaya began, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
"Intimate," Summer Morgan finished for her, a slight flush coloring her normally composed features. "More revealing than physical nudity could ever be."
"Time strips away pretense," Caelan observed, leading them deeper into Farum Azula's heart. "It shows what remains when everything transient is burned away."
"And what remains of you, godslayer?" Beast Koyanskaya asked, her fox ears perked with genuine curiosity rather than her usual mischief. "After all your cycles, all your paths?"
Caelan was silent for a long moment, the question requiring consideration he rarely gave to introspection. "Purpose," he finally answered. "And choice. The freedom to determine my own fate, not one imposed by gods or greater wills."
"A worthy core," Castoria said softly, walking beside him with newfound comfort in his presence. "One I think we all share, in our own ways."
The passage eventually opened into a vast circular chamber that defied conventional physics. The floor was a pool of liquid lightning that somehow remained contained without barriers. The ceiling wasn't stone but swirling temporal energy that showed glimpses of Farum Azula across multiple time-states simultaneously. And at the chamber's center floated a crystalline structure that resembled nothing so much as a dragon egg composed of pure time.
"The Dragon's Crucible," Caelan named it with quiet reverence. "The nexus where dragons first learned to transcend their physical limitations and approach divinity."
Female ORT stepped forward, her crystalline form resonating visibly with the energies of the chamber. The godrot corruption within her—contained but not eliminated by Caelan's blackflame barrier—seemed to pulse in response to the Crucible's presence.
"What happens now?" she asked, her harmonic voice betraying rare uncertainty.
"You enter the Crucible," Caelan explained, gesturing toward the floating crystal. "It will... restructure you. Use the temporal flux to reconfigure your crystalline matrix without the godrot corruption."
"Will it be painful?" U-Olga Marie asked, her analytical detachment giving way to genuine concern.
"I don't know," Caelan admitted. "No one like ORT has ever entered the Crucible before. She's unique—a crystalline being from another world, containing godrot from this one."
Female ORT studied the Crucible for a long moment, her kaleidoscopic eyes shifting patterns as she considered the risk. Then, with characteristic directness, she asked, "Will you wait for me?"
The question wasn't directed at Caelan alone, but at all of them—these former goddesses who had become unexpected companions in a world of ash and remnants.
"Of course we'll wait," Castoria assured her, stepping forward to take one of Female ORT's crystalline hands in her own. "We've come this far together."
"We're not exactly flush with other options," Beast Koyanskaya pointed out with her usual sardonic humor, though genuine affection underlay her tone. "Where else would we go?"
"What she means," Summer Morgan interpreted with uncharacteristic gentleness, "is that we've formed a bond that transcends our original circumstances. We remain together by choice now, not necessity."
Female ORT's crystalline features formed what might have been a smile—an expression she had rarely displayed in her divine form but was learning in her reduced state. "Then I will enter the Crucible. And hope to rejoin you... improved."
With those words, she approached the floating crystal. As she drew near, tendrils of liquid lightning rose from the pool below, wrapping around her damaged form like affectionate serpents. They lifted her gently, drawing her into the Crucible itself, which opened like a flower to receive her.
As Female ORT disappeared into the crystal, it sealed seamlessly behind her, pulsing with increased energy that sent waves of temporal distortion throughout the chamber.
"How long will this take?" Tomoe asked, her warrior's discipline making her practical despite the wonder of their surroundings.
"Time has little meaning here," Caelan replied, settling cross-legged at the edge of the lightning pool. "It could be moments or days from our perspective. All we can do is wait and watch for signs of completion."
The former goddesses arranged themselves around the chamber, each finding their own way to handle the waiting. Tomoe began practicing forms with her lightning katana, the disciplined movements centering her mind. Beast Koyanskaya prowled the perimeter, her predatory nature uncomfortable with stillness. Summer Morgan seated herself with royal composure, maintaining dignity even in this strange environment.
Space Ereshkigal and Origin Space Ishtar studied the temporal ceiling with fascination, their cosmic natures responding to the multiple realities displayed above. U-Olga Marie examined the liquid lightning with scientific curiosity, careful not to touch the dangerous substance but documenting its properties in her mind.
Void Shiki found a place where temporal currents converged, sitting in meditation as she observed the death and birth of countless possibilities. Tiamat positioned herself protectively near the Crucible, her maternal instincts extending to their crystalline companion undergoing transformation.
Echo curled up directly before the Crucible, its godrot eyes fixed unwaveringly on the pulsing crystal, waiting for its chosen charge to emerge.
And Castoria, after some hesitation, seated herself beside Caelan. "May I join you?" she asked, though she had already settled next to him.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You already have."
They sat in companionable silence, watching the Crucible pulse with transformative energy. Eventually, Castoria's curiosity overcame her restraint.
"In your temporal chamber," she began carefully, "what did you see? If you don't mind my asking."
Caelan was silent for so long that she thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his deep voice was thoughtful, reflective in a way she had rarely heard before.
"I saw all possible versions of myself," he said. "The paths I walked, the choices I made, the beings I became." He glanced at her, steel-grey eyes revealing unexpected vulnerability. "And I realized something I hadn't fully acknowledged before."
"What was that?" she prompted gently when he paused.
"In all those cycles, all those versions of myself... I was alone." The admission seemed to cost him, acknowledgment of a truth long buried beneath purpose and power. "Until now."
The simple statement hung between them, heavy with implication. Castoria felt her heart quicken, understanding instinctively what he couldn't quite express—that the arrival of ten former goddesses had broken a solitude so fundamental he had ceased to recognize it as loneliness.
"You're not alone anymore," she said softly, daring to rest her hand lightly on his armored forearm.
Before Caelan could respond, the Crucible pulsed with sudden, blinding intensity. The liquid lightning pool began to churn, temporal energies converging around the crystal as it underwent some fundamental change.
"Something's happening," Space Ereshkigal called unnecessarily, as all had already turned their attention to the dramatic display.
The Crucible's crystalline surface began to crack, light pouring through the fissures with increasing brightness. Then, with a sound like time itself shattering, the structure burst open in a cascade of temporal fragments that dissolved into nothingness before reaching the floor.
And in its place floated Female ORT—but transformed almost beyond recognition.
Her crystalline body had been completely reconstructed, no trace of godrot corruption remaining. Where her form had once been partially translucent with visible internal structures, it now possessed a depth that seemed to contain infinite reflections, as if multiple versions of herself existed simultaneously within a single coherent whole.
Her kaleidoscopic eyes had evolved as well, no longer simply shifting patterns but showing glimpses of potential futures and alternate presents with each change. Most remarkably, where her lower body had been damaged and crudely repaired, she now possessed what could only be described as temporal prosthetics—limbs composed not of crystal or matter but of solidified time itself.
She descended gently to the floor, the liquid lightning parting beneath her feet without causing harm. When she spoke, her harmonic voice carried new resonances—echoes from times that hadn't yet occurred alongside those that had.
"I am... renewed," she said simply, examining her transformed body with wonder. "The Crucible has remade me using the very essence of time."
Echo approached cautiously, sniffing at her new form as if to confirm her identity. Apparently satisfied, the metallic watchdog pressed its muzzle against her hand in a gesture of recognition and welcome.
"The godrot?" Caelan asked, rising fluidly to his feet.
"Dispersed across multiple time-states," she explained. "Its power broken by distribution through temporal planes where it cannot maintain coherence."
"Fascinating," U-Olga Marie breathed, her analytical mind already cataloging the implications. "You've essentially weaponized time itself against corruption."
"Not just that," Void Shiki observed, her pale violet eyes seeing deeper patterns. "She exists partially outside conventional time now. Like Caelan, but through a different mechanism."
The chamber grew suddenly cold as a new presence made itself known. At the far edge of the lightning pool, the air thickened and darkened, coalescing into a shadowy approximation of the Collector's dust-form from their previous encounter.
"How convenient," the harmonious voice echoed through the chamber. "All my targets gathered in one place, and one already transformed into something even more valuable than before."
Caelan drew his Godslayer Greatsword in a fluid motion, blackflame already racing along the blade. "You never learn, Collector."
"Oh, but I do," the shadow replied with terrible amusement. "That's precisely why I'm here—to collect new knowledge. Your rider taught me much about your limitations, Ashbrand. And now I've come to collect what remains."
"You're not even here," Beast Koyanskaya pointed out, her fox ears flattening with aggression despite her bravado. "This is just a projection."
"For now," the Collector agreed pleasantly. "My true form approaches Farum Azula as we speak. This was merely... a courtesy call. A chance for you to reconsider my earlier offer before things become unpleasant."
"Your offer was never viable," Caelan stated flatly. "We don't surrender essence. We don't become part of your experiment."
"Such certainty," the Collector mused, her shadow-form rippling with what might have been amusement. "But I wonder if your companions share it. After all, I offer them something you cannot—restoration of their divine nature. Return of what was lost."
The shadow turned its attention to the former goddesses, its voice becoming even more melodious, hypnotic. "Think of it, fallen ones. Your power restored. Your divinity reborn. Not as you were, perhaps, but as something new. Something greater. Part of a divine collective that will reshape this dying world."
Despite themselves, several of the women found the offer momentarily tempting. The memory of divine power—of certainty, of purpose, of importance—was still fresh enough to ache like a phantom limb.
"And what would be the cost?" Summer Morgan asked, her cool voice cutting through the hypnotic suggestion. "Our individuality? Our free will? The very things we discovered were more valuable than divinity itself?"
"A necessary sacrifice for greater harmony," the Collector replied smoothly. "Individual consciousness is inefficient. Collective divinity offers perfect unity of purpose."
"We've already found unity of purpose," Castoria declared, stepping forward with fairy queen authority that needed no divine power to command attention. "Not imposed from above but discovered together. Not through sacrifice of self but through mutual respect of our differences."
The Collector's shadow-form wavered slightly, as if disturbed by this unexpected resistance. "You speak of mortal concepts—respect, freedom, choice. Divinity transcends such limitations."
"No," Caelan contradicted, moving to stand beside Castoria. "True divinity would honor them. What you offer isn't transcendence—it's dissolution. The end of self for the glory of your collective."
"An interesting perspective from one who has absorbed so many divine essences himself," the Collector observed with dangerous curiosity. "Tell me, Ashbrand—did you grant the gods you silenced a choice before consuming their power?"
The question hung in the air like a poisoned arrow, aimed not at Caelan directly but at the former goddesses' perception of him. The Collector's strategy became clear—to sow discord between the god-killer and his divine companions.
Caelan didn't immediately answer, his steel-grey eyes considering the shadow-form with tactical assessment. When he finally spoke, his deep voice carried no defensiveness, only simple truth.
"No," he admitted. "I didn't. They had already made their choice when they imposed their will on the Lands Between—when they corrupted natural order to feed their own power. My role was consequence, not choice."
He turned to face the former goddesses directly, meeting each gaze in turn. "But you are different. You didn't choose to come here. You didn't impose yourselves on this world. And you've adapted to your circumstances with courage and dignity that many of the gods I silenced never possessed."
"How touching," the Collector's shadow mocked. "The butcher speaks of dignity to the cattle."
"Enough," Female ORT interrupted, her transformed body glowing with temporal energy as she stepped forward. "Your attempts at division will fail, Collector. We have seen each other's true selves across all time-states. We have synchronized. There is nothing you can offer that equals what we have found together."
The shadow-form rippled with what might have been anger before smoothing into artificial calm. "Very well. If persuasion fails, collection must proceed by force. Prepare yourselves, fallen ones. When next we meet, I will not waste time with words."
With that ominous promise, the shadow dissipated, leaving behind only a lingering chill in the air.
"She's coming here," Tomoe stated, her warrior's instinct already calculating defensive positions. "With her full power."
"Yes," Caelan confirmed, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. "But not immediately. She needs to physically reach Farum Azula first, which gives us time to prepare."
"For what?" Space Ereshkigal asked, her spear glinting in the chamber's strange light. "Another battle? More running? What's our actual plan here?"
Caelan's expression shifted subtly—not quite a smile, but a look of unexpected satisfaction. "For the first time since I began hunting gods... I think we might try something new."
"Which is?" Beast Koyanskaya prompted, her tail swishing with impatient curiosity.
"Creation rather than destruction," he replied, his steel-grey eyes moving to the shattered remnants of the Crucible that still floated above the lightning pool. "This place has power we can use—not to fight the Collector, but to create something she can't corrupt or collect."
"Using the temporal energies?" U-Olga Marie asked, her analytical mind already processing possibilities.
"Precisely," Caelan nodded. "Combined with the golden seed Heldric gave us. And..." he hesitated briefly, then continued with characteristic directness, "a portion of the divine essence I've accumulated."
This proposal stunned the former goddesses into momentary silence. For Caelan to voluntarily surrender any part of his hard-won power—power that represented countless cycles and conflicts—was unprecedented.
"You would do that?" Castoria asked softly, understanding the significance of his offer. "Give up part of what makes you the god-killer?"
"I would," he confirmed, his voice steady with certainty. "Not all of it—that would destabilize the balance we've established. But enough to catalyze something new."
"What exactly are you proposing to create?" Tiamat asked, her ancient eyes alight with maternal interest at the concept of new life.
"A nexus," Caelan explained, moving toward the center of the lightning pool where the Crucible had been. "A stable point in time and space where divinity can exist without corrupting or consuming. A sanctuary outside the Collector's reach, protected by temporal flux."
"A home," Void Shiki translated simply, her pale violet eyes seeing the deeper purpose behind his tactical explanation. "You're offering to create a home for us."
Caelan didn't deny it. "Yes. Somewhere even I couldn't have reached before ORT's transformation gave us insight into temporal manipulation."
The proposal hung in the air between them—not just a tactical solution, but a profound shift in their relationship. No longer protector and protected, or guide and followers, but partners in creation rather than survival.
"I'm in," Beast Koyanskaya declared with unchar