# **BITE OF DESTINY**
## Chapter 20: The Gathering Storm
---
The war room—which was actually Nene Hazal's back storage space hastily converted into something resembling a command center—was filled to capacity with beings that, under normal circumstances, would have been trying to kill each other.
Three celestials stood near the window, their combined radiance making the corner uncomfortably bright. A delegation of shadow-kin occupied the opposite wall, their presence creating patches of darkness that seemed to actively resist the celestial glow. Two representatives from the Covenant of Ash lurked in the doorway—Thessaly and the mummy lord, both radiating ancient power and poorly concealed disdain for everyone present. Helena had set up a research station using an overturned crate, her papers spreading like an intellectual fungus across every available surface. Kael kept materializing in different shadows, apparently unable to settle in one spot. And in the center of it all, looking simultaneously exhausted and determined, stood Demri and Aylin.
"So," Jade said, surveying the supernatural summit from her position near the door, "this is what a pre-apocalypse planning session looks like. I have to say, it's less organized than I expected."
"Did you expect color-coded binders and a PowerPoint presentation?" Demri asked.
"I expected *something* that suggested the fate of reality was in capable hands."
*She has a point,* the curse observed. *This gathering has all the strategic cohesion of a cat herding competition.*
"Let's bring this to order," Demri said, raising his voice to carry over the various side conversations and territorial posturing. "We have less than forty-eight hours before Azarion begins his ritual. Arguments about historical grievances can wait until after we've prevented the unmaking of existence."
"Easy for you to say," Thessaly replied, her liquid form rippling with irritation. "You haven't spent three millennia watching celestials destroy everything we build."
"And you haven't spent centuries as the scapegoat for celestial politics," Demri shot back. "We've all got grievances. None of them matter if Azarion succeeds."
The mummy lord's burning eyes flickered. "The fallen one speaks truth, however unpalatable. Our mutual enemy threatens all—celestial, shadow, and the spaces between. Survival requires... accommodation."
"Well said, Khenumhotep." Seraphiel stepped forward, his golden light carefully dimmed to avoid antagonizing the shadow-kin. "The opposition within the celestial courts has mobilized what forces we can. Thirty-seven celestials have committed to openly defying Azarion. Others will join once battle is joined—many are simply waiting to see which side has the advantage."
"Cowards," Kael muttered from somewhere in the shadows.
"Pragmatists," Seraphiel corrected. "Celestial politics rewards caution. Those who act rashly tend to end up like Demri—cast out and cursed."
"Charming reminder of my situation, thank you."
"The Covenant," Thessaly said, clearly wanting to redirect attention to her faction, "has committed forces as well. The Crimson Court sends twelve of its elder revenants. The Unseelie delegation provides their changeling infiltrators. And the... less categorizable members of our alliance offer their unique capabilities."
"Which means what, exactly?" Aylin asked.
"It means things that don't have names in any human language will be fighting on your side. Try not to look directly at them—some of our allies are cognitively hazardous to mortal perception."
"Wonderful. Anything else I should avoid doing?"
"Don't bleed near the revenants. Don't make promises in the presence of the changelings. And for the love of whatever you hold sacred, don't ask the nameless ones what they want in exchange for their help." Thessaly's smile showed too many teeth. "We've negotiated on your behalf. The price has already been set."
*I find myself morbidly curious about what 'price' was agreed upon,* the curse mused. *Also mildly concerned that we weren't consulted.*
"What price?" Demri demanded.
"Nothing you'll miss. Probably." Thessaly waved a hand dismissively. "Focus on the battle ahead. The accounting comes later."
Before Demri could press further, Helena cleared her throat loudly. "If we could return to strategy? I've been analyzing the convergence point beneath the community center, and I have... concerns."
"More concerns than 'reality might end in two days'?" Jade asked.
"Adjacent concerns. The convergence point isn't just a thin spot between realms—it's a nexus. Multiple dimensional barriers intersect there, creating a space where the normal rules of existence are... flexible." Helena pulled out a diagram that looked like a mathematician's fever dream. "Azarion isn't just going to use it to amplify his power. He's going to use it to rewrite the fundamental laws that govern reality itself."
Silence fell over the room.
"Explain," Demri said quietly.
"The primordial fragments he's collected—they're not just tools for destruction. They're... editing implements. Imagine reality as a document, written in a language we don't fully understand. The fragments are the keys that allow access to that document's source code." Helena's voice trembled slightly. "At the convergence point, during the artificial alignment he's creating, Azarion will have a window to make changes that propagate across all of existence. He could rewrite physics, alter the nature of consciousness, eliminate concepts like free will or chaos entirely."
"He could make himself God," Seraphiel said grimly.
"He could make himself something worse than God. At least the divine operates within established rules. Azarion wants to be the one who writes the rules."
*This is worse than I thought,* the curse admitted. *I assumed he wanted to impose order on existing reality. Rewriting reality from scratch is... ambitious.*
"Can we stop him?" Aylin asked, the practical question cutting through the cosmic horror.
"The fragment Demri carries is key. It's the only thing that exists on the same level as what Azarion wields—primordial chaos that can counter primordial order." Helena met Demri's eyes. "But using it at full power might..."
"Might what?"
"Might destroy you. Or unmake you. Or transform you into something unrecognizable." Helena's voice was gentle but honest. "The fragment has bonded with your consciousness, but it's still primordial chaos. Channeling its full power means opening yourself completely to something that predates the concepts of life and death, self and other. There's no guarantee you'd survive as 'you.'"
*She's not wrong,* the curse said quietly. *I've been wondering how to tell you. Full manifestation of what I am... it's not something hosts typically survive. The ones who tried became less than nothing—erased so completely that even the memory of their existence faded.*
"And you waited until now to mention this?"
*I was hoping we'd find another way. I've grown... attached to our arrangement. To you.*
The admission caught Demri off guard. The curse—primordial chaos given consciousness—had developed something like affection for its host. In the middle of planning for apocalyptic battle, he found himself touched by the confession.
"We'll find another way," he said, both to the curse and to the room at large. "Using the fragment as a weapon of last resort is exactly that—last resort. First, we try everything else."
"Which brings us to tactics," Khenumhotep rumbled. "The convergence point must be defended or destroyed. Which approach serves our purposes?"
"Defended," Demri said immediately. "If we destroy it, we lose the ability to counter Azarion at his moment of maximum power. We need to be there, at the nexus, when he makes his attempt. That's the only place where we can actually stop him."
"You're proposing we let him get close to achieving his goal?" Thessaly sounded incredulous.
"I'm proposing we turn his plan against him. He's built everything around accessing that convergence point during his artificial alignment. He's committed his forces, his power, his entire strategy to that moment and place. If we can hold the nexus, force him to fight for it, we bleed his resources while keeping the one location where he can be truly stopped under our control."
Seraphiel nodded slowly. "It's risky. But it forces a confrontation on our terms rather than his. He has to come to us."
"And when he comes," Demri continued, "he faces a coalition of celestials, shadow-kin, Covenant forces, and whatever nameless horrors have allied themselves to our cause. He's powerful, but he's been operating in secret, building power quietly while avoiding direct confrontation. A full-scale battle with multiple supernatural factions isn't what he planned for."
"Pride," Kael said from the shadows. "You're banking on his pride making him commit to a fight he could avoid."
"I'm banking on his arrogance. He's spent centuries believing he's the smartest being in any room, orchestrating events while everyone else reacts. Forcing him to react to us instead? It'll infuriate him. And angry opponents make mistakes."
*I approve of this psychology,* the curse said. *Manipulating cosmic entities through emotional exploitation. Very devious.*
"It's not manipulation. It's accurate assessment. Azarion cursed me because I represented a threat to his perfect plans—not a physical threat, but an ideological one. I believed in justice, in truth, in things that couldn't be controlled or predicted. He couldn't stand that I existed as a reminder that his perfect order wasn't actually perfect."
"So now you're going to stand in his way again," Aylin said softly. "Not alone this time."
"Not alone," Demri agreed. "Never alone again."
---
The meeting continued for hours, working through logistics, positioning, contingencies. By the time the various factions departed to prepare their forces, Demri felt like he'd been running a marathon uphill while juggling flaming swords.
"That was exhausting," Jade said, collapsing into a chair. "How do you supernatural types deal with this level of drama all the time?"
"We're immortal," Thessaly replied, pausing at the doorway. "We have time to recover between catastrophes." She glanced at Demri. "For what it's worth, fallen one—you've impressed the Covenant. Not many could have forged this alliance from such disparate elements."
"I had help."
"Indeed. The mortal woman in particular seems to have a stabilizing effect on your more chaotic impulses." Thessaly's smile was knowing. "Guard her carefully. Love is a vulnerability, but it's also a strength. The Covenant has learned this lesson across millennia of watching mortals."
She dissolved into shadows, leaving behind the faint scent of old blood and older secrets.
"Was that a compliment or a threat?" Aylin asked.
"With the Covenant, it's usually both." Demri rubbed his temples, trying to ease the headache building behind his eyes. "We should rest while we can. Tomorrow is preparation. The day after is battle."
"About that." Helena approached, clutching a worn leather journal. "I found something in Nene Hazal's archives. Historical accounts of the last time someone tried to use a convergence point for large-scale reality manipulation."
"There's precedent?"
"From before the celestial courts were fully established. A being called the Shaper—no one's sure if they were celestial, primordial, or something else entirely—tried to remake the world according to their vision." Helena opened the journal, revealing pages covered in faded script and disturbing illustrations. "They failed. But the attempt created ripples that are still felt today."
"How was the Shaper stopped?"
Helena hesitated. "That's the concerning part. The accounts are fragmentary, contradictory. But they all agree on one thing—the Shaper wasn't destroyed. They were... absorbed. Someone or something took the Shaper's power into themselves, ended the threat by becoming it."
*Absorption,* the curse murmured thoughtfully. *Interesting.*
"You're thinking I could do the same to Azarion?"
"I'm thinking it might happen whether you intend it or not. The primordial fragments are drawn to each other. At the convergence point, in the middle of a reality-altering ritual, with multiple fragments in close proximity..." Helena closed the journal. "There's a possibility that the fragments will try to reunify. And if you're at the center of that process—"
"I become the new Shaper. Or I cease to exist. Or both."
"The historical accounts suggest various outcomes. None of them are precisely encouraging."
Aylin moved to Demri's side, her hand finding his. "Then we make sure that doesn't happen. Whatever the fragments want to do, you're not just a vessel—you're a person with will and choice and a really annoying curse that has apparently developed opinions about our relationship."
*I object to being called 'annoying,'* the curse protested. *I prefer 'insightfully commentary-inclined.'*
"We find another way," Aylin continued. "We beat Azarion without sacrificing you in the process. That's the plan, and I refuse to accept alternatives."
"Reality might not care about your refusal," Demri said gently.
"Then reality can file a formal complaint. I've dealt with bureaucratic obstruction before—cosmic forces can get in line behind the building inspector's office."
Despite everything, Demri laughed. "You're impossible."
"I'm determined. There's a difference." She squeezed his hand. "Come on. If we're facing potential world-ending battle in two days, I want to spend whatever time we have left doing something normal. Like eating dinner. Or watching a movie. Or pretending the universe isn't about to be rewritten by a celestial megalomaniac."
"Denial as a coping mechanism?"
"Strategic compartmentalization. I learned it from the crisis response training. You can't process everything at once, so you handle what you can and postpone the rest until you have capacity."
*I like her approach,* the curse admitted. *Very practical for a mortal facing cosmic extinction.*
"Then let's be strategically compartmentalized." Demri allowed himself to be led toward the door. "But I'm choosing the movie. Last time you picked, we watched a documentary about coral reef destruction and I was depressed for three days."
"It was educational!"
"It was bleak. If I'm going to face oblivion, I want to face it having recently watched something with explosions and a happy ending."
---
They never got to the movie.
Instead, halfway back to Aylin's apartment, the air temperature dropped thirty degrees in an instant. Frost crystallized on every surface—windows, lampposts, the ground beneath their feet. And in the center of the street, reality *tore*.
The being that emerged from the rift was beautiful in the way that natural disasters were beautiful—terrible, overwhelming, impossible to look away from. Golden light blazed around a form that seemed to shift between human and something far more vast, features too perfect to be real, eyes that held the cold certainty of eternity.
Azarion.
"Demri," the Architect of Divine Order said, his voice resonating with power that made the air itself vibrate. "I've been waiting for this conversation."
*Stay calm,* the curse advised, its presence surging forward protectively. *He's not here to fight—if he wanted us dead, we'd already be ashes. He wants something.*
Demri placed himself between Aylin and Azarion, shadows rising around him in defensive patterns. "You could have sent an invitation. The dramatic entrance feels excessive."
"I could say the same about your gathering today. Shadow-kin, celestial traitors, creatures from the depths of forgotten realms—quite the collection of desperate allies." Azarion stepped forward, the ground freezing beneath each footfall. "All united against me. I'm almost flattered."
"You should be terrified."
"Should I?" Azarion's smile was patient, almost pitying. "I've been preparing for this moment for longer than human civilization has existed. I've acquired four of the seven primordial fragments. I've bent the celestial courts to my will. And in two days, I will reshape reality itself into something perfect, ordered, free from the chaos that has plagued existence since its beginning."
"And I'm the obstacle."
"You're a complication. An interesting one, I admit. The fragment I bound to you was supposed to consume your essence, leaving a vessel I could reclaim. Instead, you've merged with it in ways I didn't anticipate. Created something new—a hybrid of celestial consciousness and primordial chaos."
*He sounds almost impressed,* the curse noted. *I'm not sure if that's good or bad.*
"You're here to make an offer," Demri said flatly.
"I'm here to present an opportunity. Join me, Demri. Bring your fragment to my side willingly, and I'll give you something you've wanted for centuries—vindication. Public acknowledgment that you were innocent. The restoration of your status, your honor, your place among the celestial host."
The words hit harder than Demri expected. Centuries of injustice, centuries of being branded a monster for crimes he didn't commit—and here was the being responsible offering to undo it all.
"In exchange for helping you destroy free will."
"In exchange for helping me perfect existence. No more suffering. No more chaos. No more uncertainty." Azarion's eyes gleamed with true belief. "Think of it, Demri. A reality where no one is wrongfully accused, because justice is absolute. Where no one suffers loss, because nothing is left to chance. Where the love you've found with that mortal woman is preserved eternally, unchanging, perfect forever."
"Frozen forever," Aylin said, her voice steady despite the cosmic power radiating from Azarion. "That's not love. That's a museum exhibit."
Azarion turned his attention to her, and Demri tensed. "The mortal speaks. How... quaint."
"The mortal has a name. And she's not going to stand here while you try to seduce her partner to the dark side with promises of eternal stagnation."
"Dark side?" Azarion laughed, and the sound was like crystal shattering. "There is no dark side in what I offer. Only light. Only order. Only the perfection that chaos has always prevented."
"And the price is everything that makes life worth living." Aylin stepped forward, her fear apparently transmuted into anger. "Choice. Growth. The possibility of becoming something you weren't before. You call that chaos—I call it *living*."
*She's either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish,* the curse observed. *Possibly both. I find myself unexpectedly invested in her survival.*
"Your mortal is passionate," Azarion said to Demri. "I can see why you're attached. But passion is merely chaos expressing itself through emotion—it too would be... refined in the new order."
"Refined. Meaning eliminated."
"Meaning channeled appropriately. All the positive aspects of emotional experience, without the destructive consequences of uncontrolled feeling." Azarion's patience seemed inexhaustible. "I'm not a monster, Demri. I don't seek suffering. I seek the elimination of suffering—permanently, completely, without the half-measures that have failed across countless millennia of existence."
"By eliminating the capacity for experience entirely."
"By perfecting the experience of existence. You perceive this as loss because you're still thinking in terms of your current limited perspective. Once the restructuring is complete, you'll understand. Everyone will."
"Because we won't be capable of disagreement."
"Because disagreement will be unnecessary. A perfect reality has no need for conflict."
Demri felt the curse stirring, felt its ancient power rising in response to Azarion's presence. Two primordial forces, facing each other across a frozen street in a small mortal city. The air crackled with potential energy.
"No," Demri said finally. "I don't want your vindication. I don't want your perfect order. And I definitely don't want to live in a reality where love means nothing because choice means nothing."
Something flickered in Azarion's eyes—perhaps disappointment, perhaps merely recalculation. "Then you've chosen opposition. I'd hoped to avoid destroying you, Demri. You were one of the best of us, once. It seems a waste."
"Funny—I was thinking the same about you."
Azarion smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant expression. "The convergence point. Two days. Bring your desperate alliance, your mortal allies, your half-tamed fragment of chaos. Throw everything you have at me." His form began to dissolve, reality reasserting itself as his presence faded. "It won't matter. I've been planning this since before your species climbed down from the trees. Do you really think a last-minute coalition can stop what I've set in motion?"
"I think you've never faced opposition you couldn't control or predict." Demri let his own power flare, shadows and chaos pushing against the order Azarion radiated. "I think you've spent so long believing you're the smartest being in existence that you've forgotten what it means to be surprised. And I think that in two days, you're going to learn that chaos—real chaos, the kind that lives and grows and chooses—is something you can't simply erase."
"Bold words." Azarion was barely visible now, his form scattered across dimensions. "We'll see if you can back them up."
He vanished.
The temperature slowly returned to normal. The frost began to melt. And Demri stood in the middle of the street, shaking with residual adrenaline and the aftereffects of directly confronting a being powerful enough to reshape reality.
"Well," Aylin said after a long moment. "That was terrifying."
"You called his vision of perfect existence 'eternal stagnation' and told him to his face that passion isn't chaos. Most mortals would have been too terrified to speak at all."
"Most mortals haven't been dating a fallen celestial with a primordial chaos fragment for a soul. My standards for 'scary' have been significantly recalibrated." She moved to stand beside him, her shoulder touching his. "Are you okay?"
*Define 'okay,'* the curse suggested. *Because by most metrics, we just challenged the most powerful celestial in existence to a direct confrontation that we have minimal chance of surviving.*
"I'm processing," Demri said. "He could have attacked. Could have tried to take the fragment by force. Instead, he tried to recruit me."
"Which means what?"
"It means he's not as confident as he appeared. He still thinks there's a possibility this goes wrong for him—otherwise, why bother with persuasion?" Demri's mind raced through the implications. "He needs the fragments to work together willingly, or at least not actively resisting. That's why he cursed me instead of just extracting the fragment directly—the binding was supposed to break my will, make me desperate enough to accept his offer."
"But it didn't."
"But it didn't. And now he's running out of time, and I'm still resisting, and his perfect plan has a variable he can't control." Demri felt something that might have been hope. "We might actually have a chance."
*A small chance,* the curse qualified. *Infinitesimally small. But non-zero.*
"I'll take it." Aylin linked her arm through his. "Come on. If we've only got two days before the fate of reality is decided, I definitely need that movie with explosions and a happy ending."
"You're remarkably calm about facing cosmic annihilation."
"I'm remarkably good at strategic compartmentalization." She pulled him toward her apartment. "Also, I've discovered that the only alternative to calm is panic, and panic isn't going to help anyone. So: movie, dinner, possibly wine, and then tomorrow we finalize plans to save existence as we know it."
*I continue to be impressed by this mortal,* the curse admitted. *Her emotional regulation is frankly supernatural.*
"She's exceptional," Demri agreed.
"Stop talking about me to your curse and move faster. If we're doing this, I want at least one normal evening before the apocalypse."
---