"What?.."
"Where am I?"
"All I'm seeing is black..."
The darkness shattered. Uzak'me's eyes snapped open to a vaulted ceiling of pale oak, where faint, luminous runes pulsed with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. He lay submerged in a bed of deep sapphire silk, his black hair spilling across silver-embroidered pillows like a stain of ink. The room was a sanctuary of calculated elegance: walls draped in indigo tapestries that moved in a phantom breeze, the scent of sacred incense and cold metal lingering in the air, and a heavy mahogany dresser topped with a mirror that seemed to hold the light of a thousand stars.
The heavy door slid open with a whisper of stone on stone. Dyuke entered, his white robe flowing around him like a captured cloud, radiant and anchored. "Oh, perfect. You've finally woken up," he said, his voice as calm as a frozen lake.
Uzak'me sat up, the world tilting for a dizzying second. "Who exactly are you?"
His gaze hunted the room, landing instantly on his spear leaning against a mahogany stand. The weapon looked restored, its blade humming with a faint, crystalline resonance that made the air around it shimmer.
"We got rid of your clothes because they weren't going to be useful for when you need them," Dyuke said, gesturing toward a high-backed chair. Resting upon it was a suit of pristine white armor, forged from a metal that seemed to absorb and intensify the light, and a heavy white cloak folded with ceremonial precision. "Wear those. I will explain everything once you've changed and are situated."
Dyuke stepped out, the door closing with a definitive, hollow click.
Uzak'me stood, his muscles feeling reborn and revitalized. He donned the armor, which fit him with the precision of a second skin, and fastened the white cloak around his shoulders. He caught his reflection in the mirror—a warrior returned from the void, draped in the colors of the high heavens. He stepped into the hallway, where Dyuke stood like a silent sentinel. "Follow me," Dyuke commanded.
They walked through corridors of polished stone lit by floating blue flames until they reached a grand amphitheater. Hundreds of mages in deep blue robes were bent over glowing scrolls, their combined auras shimmering like a sea of starlight. Dyuke clapped his hands, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.
"Everyone, stop. Now, let's get to it."
"You still haven't told me who you are or what's going on?" Uzak'me demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Dyuke turned, summoning a book into his hand from a swirl of white mist. Its cover was abyssal black, etched with runes older than kingdoms. "This is a book made by the first leader of the Council of Mages. Eiden knew him, and helped him and the people achieve the impossible to build this foundation. Eiden also asked for our help for when the time was right—when he was finally ready to kill Civilar. That first leader is currently with the other original leaders at the Golden Throne Kingdom. When the time is right, I will guide you there."
The book dissolved back into smoke.
"The first leader of the Council of Mages left specific instructions from Eiden himself. It stated that after your fight with Eiden, he wanted someone to take your body. I reached you before anyone else could. He warned that if anyone asked for your body, we were not to yield. Luckily, you didn't use a reincarnation spell, so you were able to be resurrected; however, you fell into a deep sleep. As of right now, Uzak'me, Eiden is officially the Fourth God, and a member of the Council of Gods. He is immensely powerful. Yet, he claims Civilar is a threat so great that he requires our intervention."
Uzak'me's eyes darkened, a grim shadow crossing his face. "That's because he is. Do you ever wonder why people think they might've killed Civilar with spells that could level continents? The main reason is his mastery of illusions. He can bind you into an illusion temporarily, and it is so flawless that it works on even the greatest warriors; you believe you have struck him down, but you have only fought a dream. Civilar has never once made an appearance with his real body because his power is a cosmic anomaly. He could snap in a direction and evaporate a landmass to ash with the mere friction of the heat. Eiden was the third member who joined that group of Devils; I was the fourth. We know exactly what he is."
Uzak'me paced the room, the mages watching him with bated breath. "Civilar crafted a perfect duplicate of himself using the essence of a Celestial. That duplicate is currently wounded and stripped of power, but it is a mere shadow. The real Civilar lies in the Abyssal Frontier, entombed in his own darkness. All we need to do to force the god out of his grave is destroy the duplicate utterly."
Dyuke nodded, a grim resolve settling over his features. "I see… well, soon, I'll be leading you to a kingdom, the Golden Throne Kingdom. When the time is right, when Eiden announces the signal to us, we will march."