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Chapter Text

Jahaan pried himself off the duvet the next afternoon in a puddle of drool. Not morning, no… he’d long since slept through that. Wiping his face, he tried to blink some of the sleep from his eyes and turn over, attempting to push himself up off the bed and gain a vertical base once more. It was an effort, but eventually he managed to fall onto the edge of the bed and sit upright, the room swaying and swirling before him.

That’s when a quick dash to the bathroom was in order.

Splashing his face with the icy cold stream from the tap, Jahaan looked up at himself in the small mirror and laughed humourlessly at his dishevelled reflection. As he tried to straighten out his locks of hair, so too did he attempt to piece together the previous night’s antics.

The destruction to the cabinet, alongside the spew of weapons cluttering the carpet, was proof enough that it was no dream. He’d caught Sliske in his disguise, and almost ended him too. For a brief moment, he had the upper hand.

However, with dismal realisation, Jahaan realised that, even with a bow and arrow trained on Sliske’s skull, he never had the upper hand.

Not against Sliske.

It was then he saw the letter from Azzanadra on the bed.

It definitely started out as a trudge as he made his way over to the coordinates Azzanadra had left him. Of course, he didn’t have a compass himself, and had to make a little pit stop at a small general store, which overcharged him for the pleasure of likely being the only customer that day.

Walking definitely helped his hangover start to ebb away, and before long the arduous slog of a journey turned into quite a nice walk through some unfamiliar, though quite beautiful, forest land. He hardly saw another soul on the entire journey.

A few hours later, the outline of Azzanadra’s unique headdress came into view, along with the rest of him, and Jahaan trotted over to the waiting Mahjarrat.

“Azzanadra!” he cheerily greeted. “Sorry for the hold up. Took me a while to find this place…”

Jahaan decided Azzanadra didn’t need to know about human hangovers, though he suspected in all his years he’d encountered quite a few inebriated fellows. It was more that he didn’t want to talk about it, in case the hangover heard him and maliciously returned for round two. Not exactly a logical train of thought, but he was rolling with it regardless.

“I am glad you could make it, Jahaan,” Azzanadra smiled warmly back it him, though his hand was twitching with impatience.

“So what are you doing out here?” Jahaan asked. “You were quite vague in your letter.”

“Such things could not be trusted to pen and papyrus, for I am here under direct orders from Zaros ,” he stated with a smirk on his face that soap and water couldn’t wash off.

Raising an eyebrow, Jahaan replied, “Alright, but what do you need me for?”

“Rejoice!” Azzanadra cheered, emphasising his words with a loud clap. “The time for Zaros' return is at hand!”

Jahaan gasped. “Zaros is actually returning? ”

“Yes. Guthix's death was a tragedy, but it has allowed all other gods to return. There is one final obstacle preventing Zaros' arrival, however. Once more, I request your services in the name of my lord. You, and only you, are capable of removing this obstacle. While you may not always have displayed an unerring devotion to Zaros, I need you for this, World Guardian. All disagreements between us are in the past. Any doubts you may have will be answered. Today, we shall truly see if you stand with Zaros, or against him.”

Well, this is a lot to take in, Jahaan thought to himself with an exaggerated exhale. Scratching the non-existent itch on the back of his neck was an excuse to distract himself from Azzanadra’s beady eyes, eyes that demand all, filled with palpable hope that could teeter any moment to rageful disappointment, depending on Jahaan’s response.

He did all he could to avoid meeting those eyes.

Zaros hadn’t played a major part in Jahaan’s life; he was the deity that he knew the least about, all things considered. Sure, he’d read the history books, overwhelmed by a Menaphite bias. He knew all of the Zarosian-Kharidian Wars in the Second Age. He knew about Zaros’ empire, and the rise of Zamorak that came from betraying his former master.

He knew overviews, broad opinions, and naturally, the tainted preachings from Azzanadra. He knew nothing about the deity that he could sink his teeth into, nothing he could get behind. Little information about Zaros’ beliefs or philosophies had been published. In fact, he was shrouded in so much mystery that many people believed the rumour that he was Bob the Cat, the most famous stray in all of Gielinor.

His dangerous curiosity getting the better of him, Jahaan agreed, “Sure, I'll help if I can.”

With a relieved sigh, Azzanadra’s smile grew broad and grateful. “Ever since you released me from my prison, I knew there was something different about you. I have had little reason to rely on humans, even fewer to call one friend... but you have proven yourself to me. I have faith that you will prove yourself once more. Not just to me, but to Lord Zaros himself. This will be a glorious day! Zaros awaits you through the World Gate. Will you go and assist him now?”

“Alright, but what’s the ‘World Gate’?”
“It is a portal between realms, created by Guthix many millennia ago. While there are many portals that allow for travel from plane to plane, only the World Gate has the power to reach every plane in existence. Though, at present, it can only reach worlds that either Guthix or Zaros visited with it. To reach Zaros by any other means would require more power and time than is available to us.”

Jahaan looked all around him, scanning the barren, uninteresting surroundings. “Sooo... where’s the World Gate now?”
“Why, it is right here, hidden in the Shadow Realm, away from prying eyes.”

“And how do we get it out of the Shadow Realm?”

There was a solid beat of hesitation from Azzanadra. “We... require the aid of another for this task.”

“Who?” there was a churning worry in the pit of Jahaan’s stomach. He had a good guess at who, but was praying to whatever gods were listening that he was wrong.

“I think you know all too well,” Azzanadra confirmed his suspicions. “I was unsure of this, but Zaros was clear.”

Jahaan’s heart dropped. “Oh please no…”

Light vanished; darkness slashed. When it all returned to normal, Sliske was standing opposite Azzanadra, sporting a smile that would almost be classed as friendly if it wasn’t for the self-satisfied glint in his eyes. With a theatrical gesture, he exclaimed, “Speak of the Mahjarrat, and he shall appear!”

Not having time for Sliske’s shit, Jahaan shot back to Azzanadra and stated, “I’m not working with him.”

“Oh come now, it’ll be fun!” Sliske’s honeyed voice dripped through everyone’s last nerve like acid. “I told you we’d make a good team.”

Begrudgingly, Azzanadra said, “We do not have a choice. Zaros was clear.”

His eyes whispered the ‘please’ that his lips missed, hidden among the explanation, “Sliske is the only one of us capable of drawing the Gate back into the material realm. I am not happy that we need him, but need him we do.”

Jahaan looked between Azzanadra and Sliske, realising that the chance of an alternative solution was growing rapidly dimmer. “Fine,” he resigned with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just get this over with. The sooner it’s done-”

“...the sooner you can, what? Go back to your aimless wanderings? Emptily threatening to kill me? Drinking with handsome strangers in bars?” Sliske completed, raising his brows with a patronising glare.

“Just tell me what needs to be doing,” Jahaan growled, instinctively taking a step back when Sliske moved towards him.

“Now now, no need to get all bothered. I just need to pull you into the Shadow Realm, is all.”

Before Jahaan could protest, Sliske grabbed his shoulder and shrouded the world in a bleak, damp cover. Cold air rattled through his lungs, but it was thick and clogging, and every movement felt like he was underwater. Everything around them had turned a dark shade of grey, shadows manifesting in threatening clouds around the trees. Azzanadra was there too, cloaked in shades. Jahaan went to call out to him, but Sliske stopped him, explaining, “He can’t hear you. Not well enough, at least, unless you feel like screaming into his ear. I doubt he’d appreciate that.”

Shadows danced around Jahaan’s form; he felt them like claws on his back. “No wonder you like this place so much. Come on, let’s get the World Gate and get out of here.”

Sliske wrung his hands together. “Now, let's not rush into things. I have a proposition for you…”

“Oh, here it comes,” Jahaan rolled his eyes. “You just can't help yourself, can you?”

“What can I say?” Sliske shrugged with a wide grin plastered across his features. “I am who I am. At least I'm consistent.”

“Aren’t you in a rush to get Zaros back?”

Laughing, Sliske replied, “Zaros has waited for thousands of years. A few more minutes won’t kill him.”

“You know, I don’t see you falling over yourself in worship of him like Azzanadra does,” Jahaan pointed out. “What do you really think of Zaros?”

Letting out a short, sharp laugh, Sliske replied, “Azzanadra is far too blinkered by fealty for his own good. But of all the gods, I like Zaros most. He just gets me, you know? He helped to make the world my playground. But he's been gone a long time and we're all getting on just fine without him. We don't need him. We don't need any gods.”

If Jahaan wasn’t mistaken, he detected a hint of urgency in his words, a slightly higher tone that betrayed something layered beneath his usually poised and conceited dialect.

“Oh, but I suppose we do need a sadistic Mahjarrat?” Jahaan countered, hoping to catch the tone again, to confirm his suspicions.

“This isn't about me.”

“Isn’t it?” Jahaan put his hands on his hips, a knowing smile tearing through Sliske, his body alive with confidence. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want Zaros to return. Is your loyalty that fickle, or are you scared claiming ascension might have some repercussions?”

“Loyalty goes both ways!” Sliske protested. “I see the truth, unlike pious Azzanadra over there. Oh, I still follow orders like a good little Mahjarrat, but I've always taken them more as… guidelines . I like to be creative.”

“So did Zaros order you to kill Guthix?”

Sliske’s hand danced around him. “That was more my... interpretation . Zaros wanted to return, but I saw the futility in bargaining with Guthix. I suspect Zaros knew that, but he's not exactly forthcoming.”

“And your tournament for the gods?” Jahaan inquired with interrogative undertones.

Sliske’s smirk was wicked. “Well, a Mahjarrat needs some fun too, you know. But Zaros wanted a diversion, so I gave him one. While the other gods are busy with their infighting, Zaros can return unchallenged and none will be the wiser.”

“So everything you've done has been for Zaros? You ARE still a loyal Zarosian?”

Contemplating this, Sliske replied, “After a fashion.”

“But now you're suggesting, what, that I should sabotage Zaros' return?” he shook his head in bafflement. “What game are you playing, Sliske?”

“What can I say?” Sliske’s palms were splayed outwards. “I'm complicated.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jahaan could feel a headache forming. “Thing is, you don’t exactly have a trustworthy reputation. Why should I even hear you out?”

“Because this time, trust or whatever you might think of me isn’t a factor,” Sliske’s smile was tight; that urgent voice was back. “Through that Gate you're on your own. Neither I nor Azzanadra can follow you. Ask Azzanadra if you don't believe me. I'm not fool enough to so openly disobey Zaros's orders. It will be just you and Zaros. You can see for yourself what he's like, and make up your own mind. All I'm suggesting is that you don't have to do what is asked of you. You always have a choice. As World Guardian, even he cannot force you - the decision WILL be yours. If you like Zaros, then by all means help him. But if you're opposed to him, now is your best opportunity to get rid of him for good, or at least weaken him further. The point is that, ultimately, HIS fate is in YOUR hands. And that, to me, is such sweet irony - it's what I live for.”

Jahaan looked up into Sliske’s eyes, trying to read them, but they were in a language he couldn’t decipher. So, he was hesitant to take the snake’s words at face value. If they were said by anyone else, he’d admit that they have a valid point, and that keeping an open mind was wise. Sliske had an ulterior motive though, and it pushed him away from rational thinking, into blindly going against anything and everything he said.

Which was stupid.

That’s stupid, Jahaan confirmed to himself, the throbbing in his head beating in time to his pulse. He has a point.

So, aloud, Jahaan agreed, “I'll keep that in mind.”

The smile Sliske returned wasn’t all that reassuring. “That is all I could ask for. Now, that's enough prattling - let's get this Gate back in the material realm.”

Sliske waved his arms outwards, then towards the World Gate; he looked like he was straining ever so slightly, like the look of someone lifting a rather large parcel but not wanting to show the struggle. Soon enough though, Sliske, Jahaan and the World Gate were back in the material realm, out of the clutches of the shadows.

The comparatively warm air of normality flooded back into Jahaan’s lungs, and he breathed it in greedily.

However, Jahaan didn’t get much time to enjoy before Azzanadra pressed, “What was the delay?”

“Oh, calm down, Azzy,” Sliske rolled his eyes. “Zaros isn’t going anywhere.”

Shooting Sliske a look, Azzanadra ushered Jahaan to one side and whispered, “You were in the Shadow Realm with Sliske for quite some time. I hope he wasn't filling your head with his nonsense.”

Understanding it was more of a question than a statement, Jahaan decided to spare Azzanadra Sliske’s poison. “Just his usual spiel.”

There was a hint of relief on the Mahjarrat’s face. Wryly, Azzanadra replied, “That can be damning enough. They don’t call him ‘serpent tongue’ for nothing.”

Obviously feeling left out, Sliske jeeringly exclaimed, “Big Boss to Bunny Ears! Big Boss to Bunny Ears! Come in, Bunny Ears!”

Azzanadra shot around to him. “Do not mock my hat! It deserves respect. It is a sign of my devotion, my position in the church.”

“A church that ceased to exist along with the Empire. It's about time you faced up to that.”

Azzanadra clenched his fists into balls; Jahaan could see the magic quietly pulsing at his fingertips, and prepared to dive out of the way if things escalated. Fortunately, Azzanadra managed to calm himself slightly, and the energy faded away. “One of these days I'm going to melt that smug grin off your face.”

Turning his attention to something productive - the World Gate - Azzanadra began altering the dials and coordinates on its surface, symbols written in an ancient language long-since dead and buried, but Azzanadra seemed to decipher it.

“I've taken the liberty of setting the Gate to where you'll be going,” he stated, standing back to admire the Gate as it whirred with a comforting hum. It wasn’t the largest of doorways; Jahaan would have to bend to get through. If he looked closely at the wavering, pulsing green energy that made up the window to the other worlds, he could make out shapes on the other side. Vague outlines, mind you. Only the bare basics. But it was surreal in its own right, to see into another reality. The feeling gave Jahaan goosebumps.

Azzanadra continued, “Once on the other side, everything is up to you. I am under orders to remain here, and I will ensure Sliske never leaves my sight.”

“Why the hostility, Azzy?” Sliske’s eyes flashed with… something. “We used to be such good friends, you and I. Back in the good old days in the Empire, back on Freneskae...”

Freneskae , the name snapped Jahaan back to the task at hand. “Is that where the World Gate is taking me?”

“Freneskae, yes!” Azzanadra cheered. “It is where all Mahjarrat originate. The untrained eye may call it ‘desolate’ and ‘inhospitable’, but a Mahjarrat can see its true beauty.”

At this, Sliske scoffed.

Raising a challenging eyebrow, Azzanadra said, “Something you wish to share, Sliske?”

“Freneskae is such a dull place; there's nothing to do there!” he whined. “Just rocks and lava, lava and rocks… so bland, so boring. Not like here - Gielinor is so much more fun!”

Pointedly ignoring Sliske, Azzanadra explained, “Zaros originates on Freneskae too, like the Mahjarrat. He was able to give us such an insight into our tribe, to provide us with the means to rejuvenate ourselves sparingly. You can see why we left Icthlarin for him. He is our progenitor, of sorts.”

Sliske rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, he’s our ‘saviour’ , alright.”

“Are you really still hung up on that?”

“Zaros wanting to know our every move? Our every thought? Let's just say I'm not looking forward to having to file reports again.”

There was a trace of a smile on Azzanada's face. “As I recall, you always managed to do your own thing regardless.”

A thin smile crept into Sliske’s lips, and his eyes lightened. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Azzanadra motioned for Jahaan to approach the World Gate, which he did with slight trepidation. “Step through when you are ready, World Guardian. The Empty Lord awaits…”

Bracing himself, Jahaan took one last look back at Azzanadra for reassurance, then one last look at Sliske, who’s eyes were fixed upon him, like he was watching an actor on the stage.

“Alright,” he exhaled deeply, hands resting on both his swords. “Here goes nothing…”

Chapter Text

Freneskae. A place nightmares are derived from. A hollow, empty plane of existence, where life comes in the form of threat and danger, and where nature actively works against all inhabitants, almost maliciously. Colour is absent; grey rocks protrude into a black sky, looming over an ashen floor. The only vibrant colour comes from the crackling slashes of lightning that tear through the foreboding sky, or the scarlets of lava and fire, hailing from the heavens or slithering across the ground.

As soon as Jahaan reemerged on the other side of the world gate, he tested the air on his tongue, and quickly realised how abhorrent it was compared to the glorious oxygen he’d left behind on Gielinor. Thick and cloggy, a blend of smoke and ash, with a pinch of copper, he gathered the air was at least slightly toxic to his human lungs. Quickly, he took out the cowl from his backpack and fashioned it into a face mask, something that took away the worst effects of Freneskae’s atmosphere.

Between coughs, Jahaan called out, “Hello?”

There was no reply, only the continuous rumbling of his surroundings.

“Is anyone there?” he tried again, pressing the cowl to his face. The heat of the lava pools beneath the rocky platform he’d landed on radiated upwards; he didn’t know how long he’d last before having to ditch his armour. Figuring that was a last resort, he pressed on ahead, carefully starting along the long and winding path ahead of him, hoping that Zaros was close by.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt struck a protrusion of rock hanging over the pathway, causing large pieces to crumble and fall, the weight of them breaking the apparently fragile pathway in front of Jahaan. Shocked, he fell backwards, clutching onto the ground under him for dear life, watching in horror as his lovely carved pathway suddenly became a lot more difficult to traverse.

Once his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace, Jahaan clambered to his feet and carefully edged to the gap, peering into the fiery abyss below.

With a heavy heart, Jahaan realised he’d have to jump it. Sizing up the distance between the rock-face was promising - it wasn’t all that far - but considering how the pathway just crumbled moments ago, he didn’t exactly trust it not to break again under his weight. However, there were no alternate routes.

Gulping, Jahaan walked back a few strides and braced himself.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jahaan bolted forwards, leaping over the distance and rolling to safety on the other side. Well, the safety was only momentary, for the ground protested at the shockwave of his fall and decided to start dropping chunks down into the lava below. These breakaways quickly chased Jahaan up the pathway, causing him to scramble forwards until he reached the comfort of a larger, thicker platform to collapse on.

Gasping for breath, Jahaan peered behind him and saw the ravine he’d created in his wake.

“No going back now…” he muttered to himself, picking himself up from the ground and soldiering on.

Jahaan didn’t know how long he trekked through the natural hazards of Freneskae, directionless and suffering under the heat. He walked on, not exactly knowing where he was going, hoping to stumble into something of note sooner or later, before the temperature took its toll too much.

All the while, he could feel a… presence . Something surrounding him, there but never there. Something watching him, stalking him, but he dismissed it as paranoia in this alien world. Occasionally, he thought he saw it manifest into a faint, flickering purple cloud. But again, he dismissed this as a trick of the light, or an afterglow from the flames surrounding him. But without even knowing it, he allowed it to guide him through Freneskae.

To the east, he saw what looked like a carved cave opening, and that purple light seemed to be guarding it. Jahaan blinked, but there it remained. He looked away and looked back, just to confirm it wasn’t a mirage. Still, it did not disappear. He felt it calling him towards the cave, mesmerizing him. There was only a rocky bridge keeping the two of them apart. Without removing his eyes from the purple glow, Jahaan carefully edged his way across the divide and followed the orb inside the cave.

Inside, architecture seemed to have breached the barren, empty world of Freneskae. There were carvings here, patterns painted into marbleized floors. Properly constructed bridges connected each area of the large chamber, with chains for railings, and stairwells that went beyond crude misshapen rocks. From the looks of it, Jahaan deduced it to be a temple of some sort. A sanctum, not unlike the one Azzanadra mentioned he contact Zaros in.

Realising the purple orb was likely Zaros himself, he felt safe enough to call out his name again. “Zaros? Did you lead me here?”

Alas, more silence, save for the swishes of lava Jahaan could hear in the distance behind him. At least this sanctum was cooler, protecting him from the harsh climate outside.

Not wanting to leave anytime soon, Jahaan made his way into the adjoining room, wanting to explore further.

Inside this new vast chamber were four crystalised pillars, shining like diamonds in the dimly lit cavern. However, Jahaan only got to marvel at their beauty for fleeting moments before an ominous hissing sound echoed around the chamber, sending chills down his spine. Gulping, he ventured, “Z-Zaros…?”

The sound did not sound like a god, nor did it sound like anything he’d ever encountered before, a low death-rattle submerged in the sharp, violent hissing of an otherworldly predator.

Fearing the worst, Jahaan drew his swords and tried to calm his breathing as he entered a fighting stance, his eyes darting all around the chamber to try and pinpoint where the first attack would come from.

Haunting eyes glowed from the hollow entrance dead ahead of him, and before he could register what exactly was hungrily staring him down, it charged, spearing Jahaan to the ground. He just about rolled out of the way before it’s talons could rip his face off, not even managing to get a good look at the monster before Jahaan scrambled away, wildly swinging his swords in defence. Suddenly, a blast of magic smashed into his back, knocking the wind right out of him as he was thrown forwards, crashing into the marble pillar he’d admired so recently.

A crooked, crimson fist punched through the marble pillar above his head; Jahaan just about managed to duck in time, instinct taking over.

It was only after pushing off the pillar and gaining some distance between him and his attackers did he finally take in what he was up against. These monsters were the stuff of nightmares, like Freneskae embodied. Four of them, twisted and warped variations of the other. One a blood-red horror, contorted horns above its head. Another looked like it was made of ice, only nowhere as fragile. The next, purple with shadows dancing around its essence, its wings tattered and shredded. The last, in contrast, had rather beautiful wings, reminiscent of that of an aviansie.

One similarity linked them all, and it was their striking resemblance to Nex, one of Zaros’ most loyal soldiers, and a nihil by origin. Jahaan did not know much of the nihil - such creatures were not native to Gielinor, and Nex was the only one his world had ever encountered, as far as he was aware. He only knew them to be creations of Zaros, abominations forged from the warped life essence of other races. Extremely powerful, deadly pack animals. He’d have to take them on one by one if at all possible.

Shuffling backwards, Jahaan tightened the grip on his swords and braced himself for combat. As soon as he did so, they all disappeared back into the caverns on the wall, quick as a flash.

Wise to their charging tactics by now, Jahaan concocted a strategy. Well, ‘strategy’ makes it sound well thought out and tactical; this was more of a fleeting idea that Jahaan desperately hoped would work in his favour.

Readying himself, he waited, waited, until finally the crimson nihil charged him again - this one did not seem to favour magic, instead lunging with its dagger-like claws and a shrill scream.

In one fluid motion, Jahaan side-stepped its charge and spun around, the velocity of the twisting motion increasing the power of his sword swipe immensely. Before the nihil could turn or retreat, Jahaan had drawn a large gash down its back, causing it to wail out in agony. His second sword swung lower, aiming for the back of its knees, nearly cutting the limb clean off. The nihil staggered and stumbled forward, its patented charging attack literally cut off at the knees. It lunged forwards again, but buckled under its own weight, unable to cover much ground in the state it was in. With futility, it tried flapping its wings to gain height, but one remained static, while the other waved about weakly; Jahaan figured that he’d cut deep enough into the creatures back to break the wingbone, perhaps damaging the nihil’s spine in the process.

Not complaining, he raised his sword aloft to finish the wounded creature with a decapitating strike, but the sudden overwhelming coldness of his palms put pay to that. Dropping the blade with a shriek, Jahaan saw ice crystals splintering from his fingertips, starting to melt. Looking around him, he saw the ice sculpted nihil ready another charge. Shaking off the rest of the ice from his frozen hand, Jahaan swiftly picked up his sword and dashed behind the a marble pillar just as the next blast was fired.

He peered out behind the pillar, only to be met with another charge of ice that cracked his pillar defence.

I can’t get close to it, he concluded, dropping his swords and removing his shieldbow from around his shoulders and loading it with an arrow. Just as he stepped backwards to aim, he was startled by a roar to his left, and taken down by a barge from the avianse-looking nihil. Coughing, Jahaan quickly scurried back behind a pillar closer to the end wall, trying to collect himself. Okay, so they all do the charging thing. Right…

Seeing as the centre pathways seemed to be their dedicated charging territory - they ran from one hole in the wall to another opposite - Jahaan dubbed that a ‘no-go’ zone and focused on ranging from a distance.

The first few arrows were at least on target, but none of them connected with the nihil; its ice attack shattered them before impact. Then, an idea sparked in Jahaan’s mind, and he rummaged through his rucksack for a tinderbox.

The flaming arrows definitely gave the nihil pause, and any that connected with its flesh did considerable damage. They seemed to be frightened of the fiery ammunition hurling towards them.

So focused was he on ranging the ice nihil that he didn’t notice the crimson one that had crawled up to him until it grabbed onto his leg.

“SON OF A BITCH,” he shrieked, startled beyond words, instinctively stabbing the arrow he was about to load into his bow right through the nihil’s skull. Gasping for breath, he tried to shake off the vice-like claw that, even in death, the nihil had attached onto him, eventually taking to prising the fingers apart one by one. 

After collecting himself, it only took a few more arrows to take down the ice nihil.

Two down, two left. Who’s next…

Delicately, he stepped into the ‘no-go zone’ in the centre of the room in an attempt to lure out one of the nihils. Instead of charging on land this time, however, the avianse made use of its beautiful wings and soared through the sky, causing Jahaan to duck and jump out of the way. The first arrow he fired from the ground didn’t come close to hitting its mark, and when he reached for another, he found the quiver empty.

“Shit,” he cursed, scanning the other side of the room to see all the arrows scattered out of reach. As too were his swords, which he’d abandoned in favour of his bow. Scurrying out of the way of the nihil’s blast of smoke - and instinctively tightening his face mask to protect from its choking effect - Jahaan unsheathed his dagger and tried to come up with a plan.

It’s high in the air, and the arrows are right underneath it. I wouldn’t stand a chance. Maybe the swords? Ah but how can-wait a second…

Peering out from behind his cover, he noted the grooves on the wall next to the nihil looked like it could provide considerable purchase, if approached in the right way.

Just like Al Kharid, just like with Ozan…

The words repeated in his head in a comforting chorus, and his plan was decided upon.

Without allowing himself another second to talk himself out of it, Jahaan shot out from behind the pillar and dashed across the room, too fast for the charging nihil to register him, and just fast enough to avoid being it by the nihil’s smoke attack. It tracked him across the room, and Jahaan his to nimble maneuver in odd patterns to avoid being struck, but he made it to the wall. Leaping in the air, his foot connected with a groove and he ricochet off it, propelling towards the nihil, dagger poised and ready.

With a roar, he buried the dagger deep into the nihil’s neck, and the two of them tumbled to the ground. The nihil leaked weird fluid from the wound, but didn’t seem quite dead yet, and not wanting to repeat the same mistake he made with the crimson one, Jahaan stabbed the nihil a few more times for good measure until its hissing stopped.

Shaking the gross fluid from the dagger tip with a cringe, Jahaan sheathed the little blade and went to pick up his swords. He reminded himself to thank Ozan for the rooftop parkour training as soon as he got back to Gielinor.

Suddenly, the room darkened; a hollow rattle was all he heard before he was knocked to the floor. Quickly, Jahaan picked himself up and dashed for his swords, positioning himself in the corner of the room, breathless and aching. His vision was greatly impaired now as the light in the room kept dimming in and out, as if darkness had become sentient and was working against him. The shadows had taken over.

This was something Jahaan was all too familiar with.

Clenching the grip on his swords tightly, he tried to strategize on the fly the best way to combat shadow magic.

He drew a blank.

How do you fight an enemy you can’t see?

Jahaan was beginning to panic; darkness wasn’t something he was overly fond of, especially when he shared the company of a bloodthirsty monster. Panicking did him no good, as in his flurry of rapid breaths and erratic heartbeats, the nihil landed a winding blow on his chest.

Doubling over, Jahaan all but coughed up a lung.

If I can’t see it, maybe I can hear it…

To its detriment, the nihil was loud, a constant rattling and hissing from its foul excuse for a mouth. Jahaan could hear it scuttling at the other end of the room, no doubt preparing to strike again, and soon.

Jahaan could only see its shadow in the low light.

So, Jahaan steadied his breathing, tried to drown out his heartbeat, and moved towards the centre of the room. He closed his eyes, sacrificing vision in favour of his other four senses, particularly hearing - a crude variation of echolocation.

The scurrying gave it away, encroaching faster and faster and faster - until it was upon him.

The nihil was fast, dodging the first swipe of Jahaan’s sword… but it wasn’t fast enough for his second. Jahaan slashed a deep gouge through its midsection, causing the creature to roar in agony. Capitalising, Jahaan lunged forward and buried his other blade through its torso, twisting it inside, before slicing upwards as he removed it. This proved fatal; the nihil was dead before it hit the ground.

Catching his breath, Jahaan laughed breathlessly to himself as he examined the four nihil corpses. That was until he was startled back into sanity by the marble pillars glowing and humming around him. Then, at the other end of the cavern, a small doorway with ancient patterns carved into it opened, the heat of Freneskae flooding inside… and the mysterious purple cloud greeting him outside.

After collecting his arrows and various other pieces of equipment he’d scattered about the chamber, Jahaan headed for the doorway.

When Jahaan emerged through the other side of the door, and had climbed a cliff face immediately blocking his way, he noted he was now at the top of what appeared to be a volcano, where ash fell from the sky like snow. But he couldn’t have been prepared for the type of creature that he instantly met with.

It was… humanoid, in a sense. A collection of large rocks tied together through the bonds of molten lava, some which spilled out of its mouth as it breathed.

Breathed… slept, perhaps. It looked almost... peaceful, clawing fingers clenching slightly as if it were in the midst of a dream. It’s eyes - eyes that were bigger than the entirety of Jahaan twice over - were closed. That was all that Jahaan could see of it - a large head and one hand resting against the mountain-top, the rest no doubt extending deep into the rocks below.

Jahaan edged closer to inspect, but the purple cloud materialised in front of him. In a deep, echoed voice, it commanded, “Stop!”

Halting in his tracks, Jahaan let out a deep, shuddering breath as he knew exactly who he was face to… purple cloudy thing… to. “Zaros.”

“Yes,” the orb confirmed.

Feeling the pain in his muscles serve as a sharp reminder, he demanded, “Did you send those nihil after me? I know they’re your creations.”

“I did not,” Zaros assured. “I promise, I led you the safest way possible to reach this volcano.”

“That was the SAFEST route? Are you kidding?!” it boggled Jahaan’s mind how the Mahjarrat ever survived this place. Not sure where on the purple cloud Zaros’ eyes were, he took for looking somewhere near the top as he inquired, “Why have you led me here?”

“It was necessary,” Zaros was not an entity of many words, it seemed.

The sleeping figure beside them clenched its fist, its head lulling to one side as it croaked out an inhuman groan. Looking towards it, Jahaan inquired, “What's it doing?”

“She stirs in her sleep,” Zaros explained.

“ She? ” Jahaan choked. “That thing in the crater is a she ?”

“She is the elder god, Mah... and her dreams can be violent. We should talk elsewhere. May we?”

Gazing around them, Jahaan didn’t exactly know where this ‘elsewhere’ could be, or how it could be any safer than anywhere else on Freneskae, but he rolled with it. “O~kay…”

Suddenly, the purple orb shot towards him, burying itself in Jahaan’s chest. Crying out, Jahaan fell to the ground, and the world became black.

When he… ‘woke up’... Jahaan was…

Well, he didn’t quite know.

Everything was white.

Everything.

There was nothing around them, no volcano, no sleeping Mah.

Just… emptiness, and the purple orb of Zaros.

“Where are we?”

“Inside your mind,” Zaros bluntly replied.

Scrunching his brow, Jahaan asked, “How’d you get inside my mind?”

“Have no fear, World Guardian. I would not enter your mind without consent, nor could I. I have only brought you here. I am outside, looking in. We needed a safe place to talk where she could not sense me. That is all.”

“So we’re still on the volcano?”

“Yes,” Zaros gravely replied, “And when you awaken, we will have to deal with Mah.”

Zaros continued, as if he could read Jahaan’s mind (which in this place, who knew?), to say, “You have doubts. Know this - I will never lie to you. And in this place you would sense if I did. Therefore, whatever your questions, I would answer them.”

Jahaan couldn’t shake the terrifying reality of Mah just inches away from where his body had collapsed. “Are you sure we have time for a chat? I can’t really defend myself while I'm here.”

“Fear not, World Guardian. While we cannot idle here indefinitely, we have time. You have traversed this world for me; the least I can reward you with is knowledge.”

Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse, Jahaan thought to himself, excitement building alongside his thirst for knowledge. A one-on-one conversation with one of the most powerful deities to ever set foot in Gielinor, and hopefully without this one being assassinated in the process. Where to begin...

The Zarosian religion was quite a mystery to Jahaan; he’d only really encountered it in the fanatical form of Azzanadra. He knew of the Empire, of the Zarosian-Khandrian War… but that was pretty much it. So, he started with the basics. “What’s your philosophy?”

“It is my belief that everything that occurs in life - both good and bad - should be used to forge oneself, to better oneself. If we give in to weakness, then we do not deserve the gift of life. Where Guthix sought balance in the world, I seek balance in oneself. One must strive to increase in power, but also in knowledge of how to wield that power. The younger gods have tended to fulfil only one of these things. You, World Guardian, fulfil both of these criteria.”

Jahaan felt oddly honoured, but he wasn’t about to let vague compliments cloud his judgement. “And what’s your plan? What do you strive for?”

Zaros did not falter in his reply, like it had been rehearsed. “First, I must obtain a new body and regain my divine status. With it, I shall return to my ultimate ambition.”

A worrisome remark. “...Which is?”

“I intend to claim my birthright and become an elder god. Only then will I be able to stand equal to the universe's creators and speak on behalf of mortals.”

Jahaan blinked. Zaros wanted to ascend beyond godhood? For the first time, Jahaan considered what Sliske had been saying about not blindly following Zaros’ commands, for he wasn’t too sure how he felt about Zaros becoming an ultimate power like that, a top tier god, with all the trimmings that entailed...

Hesitantly, he asked, “Why do you want to become an elder god? Don’t you have enough power already?”

“Not everything is about power, World Guardian,” Zaros’ tone was neutral, but assertive. “Power will mean nothing when the Great Revision is upon us.”

Zaros really didn’t help the image that he was an ominous being of darkness with casual comments like that. “W-What’s the Great Revision?”

“All in due time.”

Helpful . “And where are the other elder gods?”

“They are where they have always been since the creation of Gielinor. On Gielinor.”

On Gielinor? This was a lot for Jahaan to process.

Taking a deep breath, Jahaan decided to give Zaros a chance. No red flags had flown so far. Well, the whole ‘elder god’ and ‘Great Revision’ thing wasn’t all that comforting, but even so, he was inclined to trust the deity. For now, at least. He seemed to be honest, in his blunt assertiveness. “Okay, so what do you need me to do?”

Zaros then shapeshifted into the form of Guthix. “The power Guthix bestowed upon you before his death dampens divine magic and energy. It is my belief that this power will also shield my presence from Mah. If she were to sense me and fully awaken, that would have dire consequences... for everyone. Beneath her, at the planet's core, I will be able to create a new corporeal form for myself. I wish for you to take me there, or to go there in my stead.”

“Why’s it so important that Mah can’t sense you?” Jahaan inquired, still trying to wrap his head around it all.

“Mah is my creator,” Zaros explained. There was a hint of a sigh in his tone. “Without her I would not exist, but she is like a child. She is an elder god, the youngest of five. Yet the anima of this plane was not sufficient to nourish them all, and Mah was malformed. She was born without memory or knowledge, only instinct. After finally clawing her way to the surface, her first instinct was to pour what little energy she had into the creation of me and my companion. To her I was akin to a child's doll. She is mentally fractured, but I have intellect, and I could not abide her possessiveness. As soon as she started to weaken, I left. She will want me back. If she cannot have that, she will try to destroy me.”

Jahaan didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d been lost inside his own mind, but it had been long enough. A part of him was prolonging the inevitable, of facing whatever the consequences were for disturbing an elder god. Common sense dictates they would not be pleasant, and the nihil had already exhausted him. “One last thing… tell me about your connection to the Mahjarrat. I’ve only heard bits and pieces from some of your followers.”

“The Mahjarrat did not exist when I left this place, but when I first encountered them I knew instantly that we shared kindred,” Zaros explained, taking the form of Wahisietel as he continued, “Their name means 'the children of Mah'. Their crystals mark their divine origin. They were unmistakably relations to myself.”

He began to shapeshift and cycle through the forms of Akthanakos, Lucien and Zemouregal as he spoke. “I saw them as sons and sought to protect them. Divine creations are more fragile than you realise. Their race is the epitome of potential, but their fate is also sealed.”

Then, Zaros took the form of Icthlarin, a jarring change from the Mahjarrat mould. “Had he known what he was truly dealing with, Icthlarin may never have brought them to Gielinor. He tried to reign in their nature, and it was not long before one of their number broke free. It was easy for me to convince that breakaway of my superiority.”

“Who was the breakaway Mahjarrat?” Jahaan inquired.

Zaros took the leering form of Sliske. “Sliske.”

Rolling his eyes, Jahaan muttered, “Of course it was Sliske…”

Jahaan recalled the book Wahisietel had given him, about the soldier in the Menaphite Pantheon’s service who encountered Sliske in the wars of the Second Age. Icthlarin had stolen Sliske’s wights and sent them to the afterlife, something the Mahjarrat did not take too kindly too. The rest, as they say, is history.

Taking the form of Icthlarin again, Zaros continued, “Not all Mahjarrat chose to leave Icthlarin's service, but the few that remained did not last long. In a desperate final act, the desert god Tumeken devastated his own lands to discourage me. I was given pause, and ended my campaign. I realised that I had become what I was fighting against. From that point on, I slowly started to remove my presence from the Empire I had created. I provided the Mahjarrat with the means to rejuvenate themselves on Gielinor - something of which Icthlarin was incapable, for he did not understand them. And I encouraged them to be less wasteful with their rituals. If they were to become leaders in the Empire, they had to endure.”

“And what of Sliske?” Jahaan pressed. Despite himself, he had a vested interest by this point.

Again, Zaros took upon the mantle of Sliske. “Sliske's loyalty has only ever been to himself. When our goals align, he can prove useful, but his recent exploits are not something I can condone.”

“Do you intend to kill him?”

“I cannot stand as both judge and executioner. I leave it to those he has wronged to bring him to any justice they feel he deserves.”

A loaded statement, Jahaan found. “Did you want him to kill Guthix?”

“I did not,” Zaros assured.

Jahaan did not sense any hint of dishonesty from Zaros, though he did have every reason to lie. Regardless, Jahaan stated, “I believe you.”

“I am glad.”

Suddenly, the ground started shaking, causing Jahaan to stumble.

“Enough talk, World Guardian,” Zaros’ voice remained stoic among the quaking. “Though Mah only stirs in her sleep, her nightmares will manifest and attack on sight, and her cries of pain will cripple you. You need only survive until her terrors subside. Only then will it be safe for us to proceed. But first, you must choose whether or not to allow me in.”

Jahaan hesitated. “Come again?”

“If you allow me in, I can lend you my strength to survive Mah's onslaught. I will not go beyond what you permit, and will leave once she is quelled or should you ask it of me. Do not let me in, and I cannot help. You put both our lives in jeopardy, and above that risk the fate of the very universe. Make your choice. We are out of time.”

Well, talk about a loaded choice, Jahaan thought to himself, then realised Zaros’ could probably hear him. “Okay, go for it.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” With that, the purple orb shot into Jahaan once more, causing his consciousness to falter. When he opened his eyes, the blasting heat and rocky mountain top of Freneskae greeted him. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, Jahaan secured the cowl tighter around his mouth and nose. He could feel a burdensome energy churning around inside of him, partly tickling, partly aching.

Nope, I’ll never get used to that...

“So where are we going?” Jahaan didn’t sound all that enthused about traipsing through Freneskae again, but needs must.

“To a place I refer to as the Elder Halls,” Zaros’ voice echoed inside Jahaan’s mind, rattling with purpose. “I require some of Mah's elder energy to be woven into a new corporeal form for me to inhabit. This new body must be a dark simulacrum! A light simulacrum will reject my essence.”

“Okay, Elder Halls, dark simulacrum, got it,” Jahaan repeated in confirmation. “Lead the way…”

Chapter Text

Seeing as lava was part of Freneskae’s decor as much as grey rocks and sleeping elder gods were, Jahaan wasn’t surprised when the volcano he was climbing down erupted. He figured it was par for the course at this point. A sort of, ‘what more could possibly go wrong?’ cavalier attitude. Such a mindset helped him feel slightly less terrified as the red hot lava flowed down the side of the volcano and magma spew out of the top, pouring down in a large stream of fiery death. Jahaan found himself dodging these alongside the random balls of fire that rained from the sky and the vents in the ground that expelled boiling hot steam.

Freneskae was a lovely place.

The rain became rocks, the sky filled with a choking smoky powder and the air warmed quicker than the bonfires of Menaphos Worker District. Almost as soon as lightning had struck a clifftop, Freneskae became illuminated. In the distance, thick gray smoke billowed upwards, shielding the world with a veil of darkness as the smoke swallowed up the whole sky. The glowing embers lept and twirled in a fiery dance, twinkling like stars in the hot swirling air before cascading downwards like gleeful pyrefiends.

It wasn’t too far into their journey that a strange, towering creature emerged from behind a rock face, lumbering towards Jahaan with bared teeth and too many arms. Its skin was a putrid yellow colour, a purple shell covered in spikes armouring its back. Claws as long as swords ended each arm; it didn’t have legs, but that didn’t stop it from moving at a rather daunting pace in his general direction.

Jahaan cowered back, mouth hung agape. “What… is THAT?!”

“That is a manifestation of Mah’s nightmares,” Zaros explained, his tone too calm for what the situation required. “Just as she dreamed the Mahjarrat into existence, so too her nightmares become sentient, into ‘muspah’. They are very dangerous.”

“Yes, I can see that!” Jahaan snapped back, drawing his swords and crouching into a fighting stance. When the muspah charged, Jahaan swung his sword in fearsome retaliation, and the blade did indeed hit its target, but it seemed to… pass through? The muspah shrugged it off as if he’d hit it with a daisy. Valiantly, Jahaan tried again, and again, until he had to dive out of the way from a crushing attack from one of its many limbs.

“Your blade will do no good here,” Zaros informed, bluntly.

Panting for breath, Jahaan kept up the defensive as he replied, “I should range it?”

“No. It’s only weakness is the Ancient Magicks.”

This… did not feel Jahaan with glee. “Zaros, I don’t even know the regular magicks, let alone the ancient ones!”

“You do not, but I do,” Zaros hinted, and soon enough Jahaan pieced two and two together. Sheathing his swords, he shot out a hand towards the muspah and unleashed a fierce battle cry.

...and nothing happened.

Eyes wide, Jahaan was too startled to properly react to the muspah’s charge and caught a glancing blow that sent him hurtling to the ground.

Coughing down the Freneskaen air didn’t help matters. “I thought that would work!” Jahaan growled, pushing himself to his feet. “Why didn’t it work?!”

“Magic is more than just an action,” Zaros explained, “It is a feeling. You must believe your motions, otherwise nothing will result. Focus. I have provided you with the power. You must channel it yourself.”

Gulping, Jahaan kept as much distance as he could from the muspah as he could while his thoughts raced. Okay, focus. The ancient elements are shadow, smoke, ice and… and blood, that’s it! Right, let’s try ice. I can do this. I can do this…

Then, from behind him, another muspah spawned, shrieking with the wrath of Mah.

Cursing wildly in every tongue he knew, he desperately fought to focus, to not let panic overcome him. 

Just… pretend it’s a fire spell, he internally tried to rationalize. Not that I was ever any good at those, but the feeling should be the same…. right?

Jahaan was all but hurled back like a projectile when the first surge of ice magic shot from his palms and careened into the muspah. If the creature’s painful roars were anything to go by, he’d hit the mark. Then again, he could have just angered it further.

Jahaan didn’t think too much into this before he channeled his next spell. Ice seemed to prove effective, so why fix what isn’t broken? The blast shot from his hands in a haphazard, barely controlled fashion, but it caught the creature’s leg. The weight of magic was something Jahaan wasn’t used to; it weighed more than his sword did by a great deal. Then again, Jahaan reasoned that this was because he hadn’t exactly gotten the hang of controlling his attacks yet.

Deadly precision would be nice, but as long as he hit the damn thing, he was content. Focusing on one muspah at a time seemed like a wise strategy, so Jahaan evaded the second’s charges as he shot small but powerful ice spells into the first muspah. Gently chipping away at it, Jahaan did not relent until finally - thanks to one admittedly accidental strike to the creature’s temple - it fell to the ground.

Feeling the magic pulsing through his veins, Jahaan had never felt so powerful, so alive! He had the power of one of Gielinor’s most powerful deities flowing through him, and it was addictive.

Getting slightly cocky, Jahaan decided to mix things up, channeling a blood spell next, which connected with the second muspah’s chest. Dodging out of the way of an enraged claw, Jahaan was in the perfect position to follow up. He did so, but miscalculated, well, everything.

Caught in the blast zone, the muspah crumpled under the power of the smoke spell, but Jahaan did too, coughing up a lung as he found himself staring up into the dark Freneskaen skies. His face felt like it was on fire, and when he dared move a hand towards his cheek, he noticed that some of the skin had nearly been scorched off. The cloth around his nose and mouth was no more. Fortunately, his armour had protected the rest of him, only slightly charred from the explosion.

“World Guardian,” Zaros called inside his mind.

Jahaan internally groaned, which he didn’t even care if Zaros could hear. “Give me a minute.”

“World Guardian, we have to keep moving. They will be back in greater numbers.”

Peeling himself off the ground, a greater effort than the entirety of the muspah fight, Jahaan reached into his backpack and guzzled down the contents of his waterskin, pausing only to choke now and again. Taking deep breaths just made things worse; he felt his throat tightening at the action, repelling the thick acrid air around him. “I can’t do anything if I can’t breathe. Hold on a second.”

After removing his chestplate, next he took off his shirt, ripping strips out of it. Unfortunately he had nothing to clean the wound on his face, so resorted to just binding it at it was, looking like one of Dr Fenkenstrain’s creatures. Another strip he used to cover his mouth and nose, slightly helping the whole breathing situation.

After putting his chestplate back on, Jahaan blinked out the dust from around his eyes and fought past the dizziness in his head. “Alright, where to?”

All the way down to the bottom of the volcano, that was where to.

Luckily, no more muspah were encountered on their travels. In their place were the occasional earthquakes, leaving Jahaan clinging for dear life onto whatever was around him at the time. Landslides and rockfalls blocked their path on no less than three occasions; clambering over them wasn’t too difficult, but Jahaan’s limbs were already aching just from walking. Cinders and ashes rained down from the sky like violent snow, scorching to the touch. Despite this, Jahaan found himself constantly looking upwards, shielding his face with his arm as best he could so he could look out for incoming lava flows. They were a waiting game - guess what path they were streaming in, pray that you were right, wait for them to pass, then continue.

Freneskae was a lovely place.

Eventually the two of them made it through into the Elder Halls, a large expanse of marble and crystalline rock that looked like it had been untouched for centuries. Glowing wisps of energy were floating around the room, sparkling stars in the dark cavern, all different shapes, colours and sizes. Five tunnels spread out from the centre room.

“There, planted in the ground,” Zaros referenced a small stick jutting out of the stone. “That is the Measure. An Elder Artifact used to measure the anima mundi of a place. With it you can bring forth harvestable wisps to weave a divine simulacrum.”

Jahaan rubbed his temples. “I understood about twenty percent of that. Just tell me what I need to do in simple, mortal terms, please.”

“Take the Measure, plant it in the ground. Faint wisps surrounding will then become harvestable. Guide them together until they join, like atoms. Continue until you have enough to weave a simulacrum. I will know when that is.”

“Thank you,” Jahaan smiled, thankful for the triumph of simplicity. “Hey, what’s in those tunnels?”

“Explore, should you wish,” Zaros allowed; Jahaan took him up on the offer, walking through into the closest tunnel. Inside it was a floating fragmented sphere, grey and covered in hexagons.

“What is it?” Jahaan enquired, not quite stupid enough to reach out and touch it.

“It is the egg the elder god Jas hatched from,” Zaros explained. “Does it not seem familiar?”

Now that he thought about it, the egg did look hauntingly similar to the Stone itself…

“It can’t be the same one, can it?”

“Not exactly. The one you have encountered is unique, altered to become what it is. This one's purpose was quite simple, and was fulfilled.”

“So this one is…?”

“Debris,” Zaros simply replied. “You will find more in the other chambers.”

And he did. A freezing chamber with a fragmented egg covered in ice, belonging to Wen. A boiling chamber with most of the head radiating from the red-hot egg, belonging to Ful. A chamber with dark brown egg and an earthy smell, belonging to Bik.

The last one was a darker chamber. The egg was black on the outside, looking almost smooth except for a spiral running around it. The spiral looked like some sort of corruption. “Is this...?”

“Mah’s,” Zaros confirmed. “Her’s is the energy you must harvest. When you wish to proceed, World Guardian.”

Unaware that Zaros was even capable of slight passive aggressiveness was news to Jahaan, but he did feel like the deity was ushering him on now. To be fair, he had been dawdling. Still, there was one more question on his mind, and feeling he was holding enough cards, Jahaan felt bold enough to ask it.”

“Why do you want to become an elder god?”

“All in due time,” Zaros repeated.

“No, that time is now,” Jahaan insisted. “If you want a body, I’m your only shot. All I want is to know who I’m really dealing with. You’re inside my mind. You can’t lie.”

There was a long, drawn out pause, and Jahaan felt like he was playing chicken with a cannon. Nevertheless, he held steady to his resolve.

Eventually, Zaros spoke. “The elder gods create a Perfect World - like Gielinor is, like Freneskae was - and then slumber. Then, when the amount of anima mundi of a universe is sufficient, new elder gods hatch from eggs underneath the current Perfect World and proceed to suck the anima of the universe dry to revive themselves, destroying the universe in the process. Then, the cycle begins again.”

Jahaan’s chest became heavy with realisation. “The Great Revision…”

“Yes,” Zaros gravely confirmed.

“But… but that won’t be any time soon, right?”

“I do not know when the elder gods will wake. It could be a millennia. It could be a fortnight. When they do, they will show no mercy.”

Shaking his head, Jahaan exclaimed, “There has to be something we can do about it!”

“Ease, World Guardian,” Zaros tried to calm. “That is why I wish to become an elder god. I want to stall The Great Revision, to reason with the elder gods. I can only do that if I am their peer.”

Shaking his head to try and rattle this supposed logic into place, Jahaan said, “So basically what you’re saying is that, when these new elder gods hatch, the universe is going to be destroyed. But if you became an elder god, you could, what, persuade the elder gods not to allow the eggs to hatch? Convince them to hold off? Is that the long and short of it?”

“Yes,” Zaros replied. “From the innate knowledge Mah has given me, I know that The Great Revision occurs when, in their eyes, they find that the Perfect World they have created has become corrupted. I will convince them that this universe worth sparing; that, in Gielinor, they have created a Perfect World that should be left to thrive. If I do not interfere, The Great Revision could be upon us at any moment.”

“But why didn’t they destroy Freneskae?” Jahaan asked.

“That I do not know for sure,” Zaros conceded. “Mah was too weak to leave Freneskae. Perhaps they did not destroy this world for, in doing so, they would destroy her too. But we cannot dwell upon the universe’s mortality now. We must proceed with the task at hand.”

“Right, right, sorry…” Jahaan exhaled deeply, really wishing he had a drink in front of him right about now.

So, as he was instructed, he planted the Measure into the softer spots between the rocks. The Measure didn’t seem to have a hard time breaking through. When it did, the faint wisps surrounding Jahaan became less ethereal, and he found he could guide them now.

Thus began a rather tedious process of planting the Measure, gathering a handful of wisps together, moving the Measure, and repeat. Only a few wisps became tangible at a time; the orb he was creating began larger and larger, but Zaros didn’t cut him off at any point.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jahaan asked, “How many more of these do you need?”

“Not many more,” Zaros answered, much to Jahaan’s relief.

It still took a good ten more minutes of siphoning the energy before Zaros declared, “It is finished. The body is woven. I will depart from your form.”

A little more warning would have been nice, Jahaan thought to himself after he picked himself up off the ground, momentarily falling unconscious at the sudden absence of the deity. Beside him was the ‘body’ he had woven that Zaros had now inhabited. It had a shape akin to a child moulding a person out of clay, round and featureless.

“Now, you must infuse my body with dark energy, creating a dark simulacrum,” Zaros stated.

“How do I do that?”

“Directly above us, on the top of the volcano, are crystal shards of dark and light energy embedded into Mah’s fingertips,” Zaros explained. “You must extract one and insert it into the body.”

Jahaan almost felt like collapsing with frustration. “So hold up, you’re telling me I have to climb BACK UP that volcano, with all the fun hazards that entails, possibly encounter another hoard of muspah, then pluck a piece of Mah out of her sleeping form without her waking?”

“You have come this far, World Guardian,” was all Zaros could say.

Yes, he’d come this far. Jahaan also realised that, without Zaros, he’d probably have to walk back to the World Gate by himself, without Zaros’ guidance or protection. He was stuck between a rock, and a much bigger rock, both of which were plentiful on Freneskae.

So, they trekked back up the mountain again, past the lava flows, the landslides, the lightning strikes and every other natural wonder that the weather bestowed upon them.

"How was Freneskae ever a perfect world?" Jahaan muttered to himself as he crawled over a mound of rocks.

Eventually, Jahaan heaved himself over the final ledge and found himself at the top of the volcano, thankful for the lack of muspah this time around.

“Hurry, World Guardian, before her nightmares attack us.”

Jahaan didn’t need to be persuaded anymore than that. As swiftly yet as quietly as he could, he edged over to Mah’s sleeping form. Crystals of shining blue and dark purple protruded from her fingers. Delicately, Jahaan wrapped his hand around the smallest shard of purple that was close to him, plucking it out with his heart in his throat, expecting to be squashed at any moment.

He didn’t dare look up at her.

Fortunately, the act didn’t seem to have any effect on Mah, and he returned to Zaros with the crystal.

“Perfect, that is exactly what I require,” Zaros’ monotone voice wasn’t great at conveying joy, but Jahaan didn’t let it bother him. Holding it closer to Zaros was enough for the crystal to be engulfed into his body.

Then, the transformation begun.

The body grew, larger and darker, until it was an eight foot silhouette of pure black energy. Limbs sprouted and became more defined; purple crystals took the place of claws and shaped his joints. They also took the place of eyes - eight of them, to be exact. Zaros stretched outwards, quickly growing accustomed to his new form. From seemingly nowhere, purple robes faded into existence and automatically donned themself to Zaros, as did his gold-plated armour that fixed into his shoulders and chest. Zaros’ eyes receded into the back of his hood, once more becoming the faceless deity he was known for being; an armoured mask filled the void.

But before Jahaan could admire his handiwork, Mah began to stir. Her hands clenched into tight fists, and she dragged her oversized head off the volcano top.

“She is waking,” Zaros watched with horror as Mah awoke. His composed and stoic demeanour fell into one of panic. “We have to leave!”

He shot back around to Jahaan. “I need your permission!”

Mah’s face was a contorted mess of rocks, lava spewing from her mouth and out of one of her eyes. One side of her face had two eyes, one seemingly filled with lava, while the other had four eyes of random shapes and sizes, glowing brightly with divine energy.

Jahaan was transfixed as she rose from the volcano top and began to blink her way back to the world of the awake.

Mah lifted a hand, held it high above the two of them, darkening their world like an ash cloud.

Her intentions were clear.

“WORLD GUARDIAN, NOW!” Zaros cried as Mah’s fist descended.

“YES!” Jahaan managed to call out at the last second, allowing Zaros to teleport the two of them away. The millisecond after they did, Mah’s fist struck the ground, denting the rock beneath it. Enraged, Mah raised her head to the sky and roared a terrifying, furious cry, shaking the earth and skies around her with venom and fury.

Chapter Text

When Jahaan materialised back onto firm ground, he was back beside the World Gate, the earthquakes from Mah’s nightmares only a faint tremble this far out. Trying to calm his erratic heartbeat, Jahaan doubled over, clutching his knees and panting with all the built up adrenaline.

Zaros, naturally, did not seem phased at all. “Mah awakens,” was all he said.

“Yeah,” Jahaan replied within gasps. “Shouldn’t we be getting out of here?”

“Not yet. We are safe for now, and I have something I wish to say before I return to Gielinor.”

Due to Zaros’ nature, he didn’t walk. Instead, he hovered, a few inches above the ground, his robes grazing the rocks beneath him. He glided slightly closer to Jahaan, towering over the man by a good two feet. Yet, Jahaan was not scared, and Zaros could sense this. It pleased him.

“When I was inside your mind,” Zaros began, “I could not lie to you, nor could you to me. I saw Sliske’s poison. I wanted to thank you for not letting his corruption influence you.”

Internally, Jahaan winced. “Then by that logic, you also knew I’d decided to hear him out.”

“I did, as is your right,” Zaros confirmed, but there was no hint of anger or disappointment in his monotonous voice. “I did not want to compel your fealty. I wanted to earn your support. While I do not condone Sliske’s insidious words, I am grateful you saw through them. You may come to learn something about me, that I… compel loyalty within others.”

Jahaan crinkled his brow. “Against their will?”

“It is not something I have control of,” Zaros explained, calmly. “It is something bestowed upon me by Mah. I am unable to rid myself of this... ability ... but I must live with it. Do not be concerned - it does not affect you, World Guardian.”

Jahaan noted the concern, almost shame, in Zaros’ voice. It was hard to gauge the diety’s emotions - his voice was hardly expressive - but Jahaan could sense it nonetheless. “But it affects your followers?”

“Yes. It is one of the reasons I chose to withdraw from my own empire,” he admitted. “I find the idea of coercing another mind to be... distasteful . But it only affects those in my presence, and the effect dissipates with time. This is how I know that those still loyal to me are truly loyal. They have not been under its effects for many centuries, yet still heed my call. I wished for you to know this from me, so that you could understand it. Now you know this of me, might I ask one question of you?”

Jahaan nodded, so Zaros continued, “You could have left me behind, or wounded me with a light simulacrum. I was dependent on you, and you assisted me with little benefit to yourself. Why?”

Jahaan thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Because you were genuine. Honest. Your intentions seem honourable. I might not be waving a banner with your emblem on it, but I don’t want to make an enemy out of you either. You convinced me to hear you out. I heard you out. And believe me, I like what you’re saying a lot more than some of the other gods prancing around.”

“Thank you, World Guardian,” Zaros replied, softly. “Come now. I wish to greet my loyal followers.”

When Jahaan emerged back through the World Gate, the site of Gielinor filled him with so much glee and relief that he felt like kissing the ground. The sun, the sun! It was near blinding, but he didn’t want to look away. And the breeze, the cool wind that danced around him, tickling his skin.

The company surrounding the World Gate had doubled since he’d entered; Azzanadra and Sliske remained, the former as eager to see his lord as a child is for the arrival of Christmas. Next to him, two of Zaros’ most formidable followers had joined the Mahjarrat to see Zaros’ return, both of whom Jahaan had the unfortunate pleasure of having dalliances with before, back in Guthix’s cave. The first, a fire enchantress in the service of Zaros by the name of ‘Char’. A dancer, brown-skinned and with hair that undulated like a blanket of fire. The other, a nihil (of which Jahaan had officially had enough of today) by the name of ‘Nex’, a creature that even the gods fear.

“My lord! You are returned!” Azzanadra exclaimed, sounding like he was about to burst into tears of joy. “You are exactly as I remember.”

“We have the World Guardian to thank for that,” Zaros commended. “And I shall reward him in due course. But first, something requires my attention. Sliske.”

Zaros spun around to face Mahjarrat who was hunched over like a silk-draped vulture. Sliske’s smile was thin, his eyes unreadable as he stated, “I am yours to command. Just say the word.”

“No more.”

Sliske blinked. “What did you say?”

Jahaan took a small step backwards, slightly behind Azzanadra, as Zaros repeated, “No. More.”

Sliske cottoned on at this point. “But... no! I... I am loyal! Have I not always been loyal?” to hear Sliske’s wavered tone, a cocktail of hurt and disbelief, baffled Jahaan to no end. It also slightly scared him as, the more Sliske spoke, the angrier he became. “Have I not done everything you've always asked of me? As the empire fell, did I not keep safe those things necessary for your return? Was I not pivotal in the liberation of all those who stand before?” he was practically shouting at this point. “Did I not kill a god for you?! You cannot turn me away! Not now, Zaros, please!”

Jahaan couldn’t keep his eyes off the seething Mahjarrat. Surely Sliske would have known that something like this would occur. His hesitation to allow Zaros’ return was evident enough of that. But his reaction, so volatile, so desperate, to hear him plead… what was his angle? Was this one of his charades, or was he finally showing some raw, genuine emotion?

“Sliske, stop,” was all Zaros replied.

There was a long, drawn out pause while Sliske locked eyes with the deity. Finally, he broke into laughter. A hollow, mirthless ghost of a laugh. That might have been the most terrifying thing of all.

His light, empty chuckle remained as he said, “Very well. I guess I'm not quite the actor I thought. What gave me away?”

Jahaan was still on edge, confused about the tonal shift. There was something not quite right about the way he spoke, his mannerisms. More so than usual, that is.

There was something not quite right, and Jahaan couldn’t put his finger on it.

Zaros did not falter. “You betray yourself... though, in truth, I have never trusted you. And your words of betrayal to the World Guardian cannot be ignored.”

“ Betrayal ?” Sliske spat the word like it was poison. “They could have just walked away, left you to rot! I was just convincing them to hear you out. It was down to you to convince them of your worth!”

“Whatever your intent, no longer can I turn a blind eye to your disobedience, nor condone your methods.”

“Are you sure it's not just because me killing Guthix puts me beyond your control?” Sliske’s eyes flashed with fire, a hint of smugness lighting the edges.

Zaros exhaled deeply, providing no comment.

The smugness in Sliske’s smile grew, a victory assured. “Fine, don't answer. So, what's next? An intervention? Family counselling? Maybe some trust exercises?”

“Excommunication,” Zaros declared, the word reverberating like a gunshot. “You will have no further association with us. You are on your own.”

Sliske sniffed a lone, humourless laugh. His smile returned, the curve a little crueler and less self-satisfied. “Oh, I've always been alone. But I guess this means you'll have to find someone else to do your dirty work. Your new World Guardian pet, perhaps?”

“Leave us. Never return,” Zaros demanded. Nex and Char looked as if they were fit to burn the forest down with Sliske inside. Azzanadra, for his part, looked just as disappointed as he did furious, the betrayal cutting slightly deeper to him.

“As you command... my lord ,” Sliske mocked with a faint bow. He then turned his attention to Jahaan; meeting the Mahjarrat’s fiery gaze made Jahaan want to back away, but he held himself firm. “But don't think this is over, World Guardian. I'm just getting started with you.”

He took a step forward. Azzanadra moved to intercept, but Zaros motioned for him to stand down.

Sliske’s eyes practically burned with yellow fire, staring Jahaan down like a predator. “Where I'm concerned, Zaros' protection of you no longer applies. Between you and me, all bets are off. Be seeing you.”

With that, he teleported away in a flurry of shadows.

Finally, Jahaan released the breath he’d been holding for far too long. To Zaros, he asked, “What did Sliske mean by ‘protection’?”

“You are important,” Zaros simply replied. “You must be kept safe.”

“Well, no offense,” Jahaan began, somewhat tetchily, “But a little more protection would have been nice when Sliske had his hands around my throat last night.”

Azzanadra blinked. “What was that?”

“When you gave him the task of delivering your letter,” Jahaan didn’t want to make eye contact with the Mahjarrat; he was already regretting mentioning the incident, and the memory was making him angry. “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

Shaking his head with confusion, Azzanadra started, “I do not understand why he-”

“Azzanadra, it’s okay,” Jahaan interrupted, his tone softer now. “I handled it. It’s fine. Alright?”

Sighing, Azzanadra replied, “If you insist. I apologise for bringing him to you. If it’s any consolation,” he stepped slightly closer to Jahaan, scrunching his face up in a way that Jahaan assumed was his attempt at reassurance, but he didn’t have the features for it. “Sliske’s mood has always changed like the weather. He is angry now, but I don’t believe it will last long. But if he approaches you again, find me. I will deal with him personally.”

Smiling weakly, Jahaan said, “Thanks, Azzanadra.”

Having listened to the conversation mutely, retaining all but adding nothing, Zaros finally spoke up, “Sliske is an unknown quantity, and a dangerous enemy.”

Turning around to face Char, he instructed, “Char, keep an eye on Sliske. It gives me pause that he holds both the Siphon and the Catalyst. I do not want him thinking he can follow in Zamorak's footsteps. He is angry, and may attempt something rash. Inform me if he leads you to the location of either artefact. None of the young gods should have free access to such tools. Especially the Catalyst – the dragonkin cannot grow too strong before we are placed to deal with them.”

“As you command,” Char bowed slowly, fire dancing on her lips. “I am heartened to see you returned.”

After she teleported away, Zaros then turned his attention to Nex. “Nex, I task you with keeping Sliske's little game in check - watch the young gods. Try to contain their destruction as much as possible, but do not get drawn into open conflict. There may come a time that I need you to step in to ensure nothing interferes with my plans.”

“At once, my lord,” Nex hissed, teleporting away in a myriad of black and purple electric pulses.

Next, his attention returned to Azzanadra. “And to Azzanadra, my most loyal servant. Together we must prepare to rouse the elder gods. Zamorak's desperation at the end of the last God Wars scattered this planet's anima mundi, but even that was not enough to wake them - only Guthix.”

Azzanadra hesitated, a brief flash of worry in his eyes. “Y-You wish to create a greater level of destruction?”

“Not greater; more targeted,” Zaros assured, echos in his bellowing yet measured voice. “I require you to seek out Gielinor's own Elder Halls. If disturbed, the elder gods will have no choice but to respond.”

“It will be done, my lord,” Azzanadra vowed, crossing his arms over his chest and whisking himself away.

Finally, Zaros approached Jahaan; silence surrounded the entire landscape, save for the low hum from the World Gate and the brisk breeze fluttering through the trees. “Now has come the time for us to part, World Guardian. Reflect on all you have witnessed this day. Gielinor's reckoning is coming, but there is still time for us to avert it. Until I call on you again, do as you otherwise would, had we not met. Pax tecum .”

With a nod of his head, Jahaan simply replied, “Farewell.”

Zaros left his side, transporting the World Gate away with him, like it was never there at all.

Jahaan was alone once again.

But he wasn’t alone for long…

Chapter Text

The trudge back to his little hostel in the unnamed town really highlighted just how much he’d put his body through on Freneskae, for once the adrenaline had worn off, the aches had made an unwelcome return. Worst of all were the burns on his unprotected face, and Jahaan cursed his unwillingness to wear a cumbersome helmet. They’d scar, undoubtedly, but he needed them treated before they took a turn for the worse.

When the innkeeper saw the state he was in as he fell through the door and all-but slumped against the wall, she didn’t think twice before leading him upstairs. Fortunately, his room had not been occupied in his absence. The cabinet was still smashed from his fistfight with the Mahjarrat, but thanks to his generous donation to the hostel’s upkeep, the woman didn’t breathe a word about it.

After a good, thorough wash and a few coins for use of the medical kit, Jahaan was ready to sleep the night away. And most of the next day away. And part of the next night away.

Unfortunately, his slumber was broken up by his painful bones crying for attention, by the rowdy howling of the drunken patreons outside his window, and by the most unwelcome of dreams.

Ika tha nke rius Zanka Tdaterius!

The words echoed around the dark chasm. He could hear their voices, but couldn’t see their faces. They were dark, cloaked in shadow and absent of eyes, of souls.

Ika tha nke rius Zanka Tdaterius!

The words echoed again, black skulls shooting into the ground from Lucien’s palms. The undead heroes of legend arose, draped in rotten flesh.

Lucien’s cackling, his empty skull, his crooked features. It drew them in, like a siren song.

Jahaan found himself crying out, “Hazelmere, stop! He’s too powerful!”

Hazelmere did not look back, did not turn, but kept walking, ever so slowly, to his demise.

Ika tha nke rius Zanka Tdaterius!

Hazelmere began to shatter into crystals, turquoise and cyan, the colour of his spells. “The decision has been made,” his words were faint, “goodbye, my friends.”

They were final. His words were his last.

The others followed.

Turael.

Harrallak.

Mazchna.

Lassyai.

“Go, NOW!” Cyrius called, his scream shaking the cavern walls, blue eyes tearing through Jahaan. “We’ll hold him off!”

He tried to run. Not away, but towards. Always towards. "I'm not leaving you!" 

He couldn’t move.

He could never move.

A grip on his shoulder. Ozan.

He tried to pull away, screaming and clawing and begging and pleading.

The world erupted in light, as it always did.

Ika tha nke rius Zanka Tdaterius!

The site of Lucien’s maniacal glare was the last thing he saw before he woke up, screaming and shaking, a puddle of sweat soaking through his garments.

Panting desperately for breath, he looked around the room, trying to focus on something solid, something real, as he repeated over and over, “He’s dead… he’s dead… he’s dead… they’re all dead…”

After another few hours of tossing and turning, Jahaan eventually gave up on bedrest and decided he’d lick his wounds on the walk to the Tree Gnome Stronghold. Besides, he’d been cooped up in the tiny little room for close to twenty four hours now, emerging only for nutrition in the form of a summer pie, before returning to his slumber once more.

Once he decided he couldn’t stand the bland walls enclosing him in anymore, Jahaan grabbed his belongings and entered the dusk-soaked town.

However, he didn’t get much further past the archery shop and down an isolated side-street before he heard, “Leaving so soon, World Guardian?”

Without hesitation, Jahaan slashed both of his swords from their sheaths, spinning around to face the origin of the silky, sinister voice. As predicted, Sliske was there, the remnants of shadows dissipating from around his ankles.

“Why so hostile, Janny?” His eyes sparkled with amusement, his smile a thin line.

“What do you mean ‘why so hostile’?” Jahaan challenged, his teeth gritted, feet firmly planted into the rough dirt sidewalk below. “Does, ‘I’m just getting started with you’ and ‘all bets are off’ ring any bells?”

For his part, Sliske looked mildly startled, then he waved his hand in a dismissive notion. “Oh yes, yes, but that was days ago.”

At this, Jahaan recalled something Azzanadra had remarked, about Sliske’s mood changing like the weather, but he wasn't about to let his guard down and be tricked by Sliske’s attempt at sincerity. “Why don’t we just cut to the chase: what do you want, Sliske?”

From the way his thin smile turned into a massive grin, Jahaan realised he wasn’t going to get out of this that easily. “Now there's a question! What do I want? World peace, perhaps? Or... a puppy? Maybe I just want to be left alone.”

If it’s the last one, there’s many ways you can fuck off that I’d be glad to show you, Jahaan internally grumbled to himself, but found that to be the last gasp of his anger, replaced mainly with tired frustration.

Exasperated, Jahaan let his swords drop slightly; with eyes that were world-weariness personified, he looked up Sliske and said, “Why don’t for once - just for once - you give me a straight answer?”

Sliske seemed to ponder this. “Hmm… what an interesting proposition. Very well, you get ONE straight answer. Ask your question.”

Jahaan blinked. He hadn’t considered that Sliske would take him seriously.

Yet Sliske waited, patiently, his mouth upturned slightly as he watched with anticipation the cogs in Jahaan’s head turn.

If Sliske was being earnest, there would be a few useful routes to take. Was he really a god? Has he really used the Stone of Jas? What were his plans? The pressure of the options made Jahaan just want to say ‘fuck it’ and ask something trivial, like what his favourite colour was.

But as he scrolled through these questions in his mind, one kept creeping back to the forefront with increased prominence.

Having decided, he sheathed his swords, testing the waters to see how Sliske would react. When no move was made, he looked back up at Sliske and simply asked, “Why me?”

Furrowing his forehead, Sliske remarked, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Jahaan gesticulated wildly, trying to find the words. “Why… ME? Why am I at the centre of all this?”

Sliske was quiet for a moment, losing the amusement in his voice. “Be careful wasting your one question on something I cannot answer.”

“You said you’d give a straight answer!” Jahaan protested.

“I did, and this is as straight an answer as I can give you,” Sliske assured, his tone a shade softer than usual. “The truth is, I don’t KNOW ‘why you’. Sure, I can play my part, pull my strings here and there, but there are things beyond all of our control. Fate has no master, Jahaan. Not you, not me, not Zaros - though he’d certainly try his luck. Perhaps there is a divine and mystical reason why you’re at the centre of events. Perhaps you just got lucky, or unlucky, depending on your outlook.”

“But why do YOU keep lurking around me?” Jahaan pressed, given a grain and wanting a gallon. “You said you’d been following me, way back at the Ritual… why? Why… why any of this?!”

The humour was back. “Now, now. Don't be greedy. I did just say one. You do like to push your luck... but I suppose that's one of your better qualities.”

Jahaan muttered something barely audible under his breath, shooting Sliske a look that required no explanation. It would have been as much use asking him his favourite colour, he grumbled internally.

“So,” Sliske began, sizing Jahaan up and down with a flash of his eyebrows. “what's next for you and I?”

“Well that depends, doesn’t it,” Jahaan found the confidence to size Sliske up right back. “On how out of hand your silly little game gets.”

“My game is not ‘silly’ Jahaan,” Sliske’s tone was warning. “You’ll realise that soon enough.”

“Then I’ll end it, and if needs must, I’ll end you .”

Sliske’s grin grew wicked, full of darkened amusement. “Oooo! I knew there was a reason I liked you! Come at me, World Guardian! Who knows? You might even win.”

Sliske took a stride forwards, but this time, Jahaan refused to flinch. The Mahjarrat took this as a challenge, not an invitation; as he stepped closer, he said, “That’s enough chit-chit for one day… but before I go, I have a little gift for you.”

Jahaan was practically being towered over by Sliske by now. “I don’t want anything from you,” he stoically stated.

“Don't you even want a peek?” Sliske taunted. “You'll like it - it's a doozy.”

Glaring upwards, Jahaan maintained, “I’m not interested, Sliske.”

“Well the thing is, World Guardian… you don’t have a choice.”

Sliske’s hand shot outwards; Jahaan made for his sword, but he couldn’t unsheath it in time, managing just to pull it half way before he screamed as Sliske’s spell made contact.

Luckily, the pain didn’t last long, and when he opened his eyes, he found his vision slightly… altered. The shadows were more pronounced, and colours were slightly muted around where Sliske was standing.

“What did you do to me?!”

Such shadows began to curl around their master and Sliske retreated backwards, a telling smile carved into his features. “You have such beautiful eyes, Jahaan. I merely… enhanced them for you. Now you can see into the Shadow Realm, with a bit of practice. Next time, I want you to see me coming…”

With that, the shadows engulfed the Mahjarrat, and he faded away. His cackling laughter remained with Jahaan after he left.

Despite furiously rubbing his eyes and trying to blink rapidly as if he were dislodging a piece of sand, he couldn’t help but notice the extra dimension Sliske’s ‘gift’ had given his eyesight. It felt like an extra sense, but an unwanted one.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Jahaan started walking, hoping to make it to the Tree Gnome Stronghold within a couple of days of good pacing. At least then, if he was allowed to take a glider to Prifddinas, he could ask the elves to try and rectify the damage Sliske had done (and maybe fix the burns on his face while they were at it, but that was a cosmetic fix - not as important).

However, in order to access the glider, the king of the gnomes - King Narnode Shareen - requested that Jahaan help recover the 10th Squad who had gone missing in uncharted territory. This ended up being a LONG diversion, for the island the 10th Squad were trapped on was inhabited by intelligent (and very violent) monkeys.

By the time he’d recovered the squad, weeks had passed and he’d discarded the idea of Prifddinas for the time being, accidentally falling into yet another distraction. At the same time, he’d gotten quite used to his new eyesight. Looking to be glass half full for a change, he realised that with this ‘gift’ he really could sense if Sliske was nearby. That is, if he figured out how to properly see in to the Shadow Realm. He was practising, yes, but it didn’t exactly come easy to a mortal.

Still, it was another string to his bow. Any weapon is a good weapon, in trained hands, and anything to help put him on an equal footing with Sliske was more than appreciated.

He’d also taken to trying his hand at magic. With whatever money he could accumulate, or as rewards from the various people he helped along the way, Jahaan had begun stockpiling runes in an effort to try and raise his mage game. The feeling of controlling spells from his palms was a rush akin to no other, but he didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes he made on Freneskae - his face was still scarred over.

Due to their nature, Mahjarrat and many divine entities need no power source to fuel magical spells - it’s innate within them. Humans, on the other hand, do. The most available source is runes, brought to Gielinor by Guthix in the First Age and spread across the world. The lower tier runes were easy for anyone to get ahold of and train with, shops stocking them in almost every major town. You can craft your own if you’re capable, and it’s a rather lucrative venture, but Jahaan decided that training one major skill was enough at the moment. Runecrafting could wait.

While Zaros was inhabiting his body he had a divine source of magic to fuel any Ancient Magick spell he could think of, but Jahaan had only managed a few of the basic blast spells, and even that left him with some unpleasant scarring.

Next time he had to fight with magic, he’d be better, Jahaan kept telling himself, and it was that sort of determination that kept him practicing almost every day.

Months passed, and Jahaan found himself getting rather comfortable with the basic spells. He could summon fire blasts consistently, with power and accuracy. Same went for air and water spells. He considered himself rather proficient in them, if he allowed himself the arrogance of admitting that. Of course, he’d yet to try them out in a combat situation - training dummies hardly put up the fight muspah did - but he was confident in his ability.

Next would be the Ancient Magicks, whenever he could save up enough for the special runes required.

Notable in his (unusual) absence during this time was Sliske. After giving Jahaan the ‘gift’ of seeing into the Shadow Realm, he had yet to make an appearance. Jahaan frequently tried to hone into the Shadow Realm in an effort to detect him, but honestly, it just gave him a migraine.

Perhaps I’m doing it wrong…

His paranoia wasn’t exactly letting up; he expected Sliske to appear in the doorway, around the corner, draping himself like a silk-donned vulture over the bar he was drinking at, and yet he didn’t.

Sliske’s disappearance was… troubling… to Jahaan. He expected to see him, and he never did, and found his thoughts casually drifting to the Mahjarrat. Where is he? What is he doing? What stupid shit is he planning this time?

These were thoughts he did not care to waste his time and brain-space with, and yet, the thoughts didn’t cease. He battled against them, but it didn’t help.

He refused to admit that maybe, just maybe, a part of him missed the company.

Then again, another part of him was thoroughly relieved he didn’t have to deal with Sliske’s antics for the time being. The Mahjarrat was a bit too much.

Besides, Jahaan was the World Guardian, and while Sliske had two of the elder artifacts to use for his own disturbed amusement, he was the enemy of Gielinor.

Jahaan found that he was reminding himself of this more and more.

So Jahaan did what he always did when his own mind became the enemy - he preoccupied himself with his surroundings, and found that he soon lost himself in yet another adventure...