Stillness

Serenity across the battlefield that was the endless expanse of the kingdom founded through carnage. For centuries the war within the Deep Wastes raged on, unquenchable and seemingly unending, fought more fiercely than any other conflict across creation. The domain spoken with tinges of rage and fear had turned its claws and teeth inward; slowly bleeding itself to the point of no return. Primal murdered Primal, the eldest annihilated their kin ad nauseum, and the tunnels of the Deep ran black and blue with the blood and gore of all Depth kind.

There was never a moment of rest for those involved within this bloody conflict, nor those unfortunate many who found their worlds, their realities, caught in the middle of this wretched civil war. A great many knew the Depths would be the architect of its own demise… but to see it now…

A cold reminder that even on its deathbed nothing was safe from the Deep. Not until at last the fatal blow was struck. Not even itself.

Against the False King Uxaes, let his name be stricken from the deepest histories, nothing was held sacred. No life was held in high esteem. They were a warrior of the Deep who had thrashed for an eternity, wreaking havoc on not just their domain but creation as a whole in the search of ascending themselves. Rising to greater power. Now that they had it they would not part with it so easily. They would tear down totality if it meant keeping their false strength. 

So it was for so long that they thought themselves invincible, until the day came where they had been bested. Butchered by one so young they would have never been deemed a threat. A fatal and ultimately costly error.

When the Young Mako warrior that would challenge the Usurper King stepped up, and when their means of supremacy meant nothing to an abnormality of the cosmos, they knew their time had come.

They fought, of course, for the right to live. To survive. To rise in this cosmos where strength meant everything. Across the countless dead worlds that have been pulled into the Depths' embrace, across a trillion bled stars and hundreds of devoured realities they raged.

They clashed for all their might was worth, bringing ruin wherever they landed. Within the Heavens, across the Infernal Planes. Submerged in the Deep, and lost within the vast Void of the Cosmos. They battled everywhere, taking with them countless civilizations.

The False King Uxaes. Slayer of Alsana the Allseer, Queen of innumerable fates. An Elder hundreds of millions of years old

And the young Butcher. Rising terror of the Depths. A legend in the making. A lesser Depthborn, hardly an era in age, yet one who roared with indomitable spirit.

Two terrible combatants, the likes of which had not been seen since the early dawning of creation. Dual Calamities that defied the rules of the cosmos, the Tyrants who governed all, and those who fell underneath their sovereignty. They were abominations both, an insult to all that existed, and they tore into each other with wild abandon.

While true that the whole of the Depths raged, it was the battle between two abnormalities that shook the foundation of the reviled kingdom. While some clashes were lesser, and others greater, the fate of all in the Deep Wastes hinged on the conclusion of this one conflict. It all ultimately culminated within the Usurper King's own throne room. A self-made cavern within the Dark that was closed off from the whole of everything, so that any attempt upon Uxaes's life would be seen coming from one singular opening. Of course, in this war their attention had been subverted, taken away from their throne, and turned into a vulnerability.

One the Mako Warrior gladly exploited until finally, through the King's own folly of overreliance on the venom that was the Archfiend's stolen creations, the False King fell.

Ripped in two by the Butcher, though she in turn was brought to Death's door for her efforts. Her battle was by no means a simple one. More arduous than facing an army a million strong. But it was done, and though her body was ruined the False King had fallen first. A glorious if not pyrrhic victory.

Uxaes called out into the dark expanse of his warring kingdom, ordering aid. He threatened and demanded all hear his cry and respond; accordingly, serving through obedience fit for a king. Silence was his sole answer.

No whelp would heed the call. They were too engrossed in the carnage they grew fat on.

No Elder or Ancient would rise to the occasion, choosing instead to walk the nomadic path at this war's end. 

Not even the Primal ones would come to the fallen masters' side. Only twelve remained of the expansive conflict, and none wished to serve a fool any longer. Already, five had chosen his successor. This reign was at its end. A new one was sparking.

The only one who had in fact arrived did so of their own volition, and only just to watch what little life remained of the dying king fade away. The Archfiend herself, having witnessed and waited for this moment while her home tore itself to shreds. She watched from within the physical darkness abundant in the kingdom most reviled, observing as the grand battle between two Calamities progressed, slowly biding her time for the right moment to properly reveal herself.

There was no need for her to fight. Getting directly involved would have proven troublesome, and the Butcher needed to complete this fight on her own. Only through her victory would the Depths begin the process towards gradual restoration. Her home would heal in time. 

The Depths always did. 

Ever adapting, as was its sole purpose. But to do so freely, it needed a new master on the throne. A more worthy hand to guide the needed cultivation of the unfathomable, countless beasts which roamed endless caverns and tears. Not some raving beast, but a calm mind coupled with a powerful body.

The Fallen King Uxaes took just one look upon the Primordial and knew what it was that those who survived him had in mind. What their plans and intentions were. The usurpation of his throne for one of the Deep's eldest souls.

"Traitor", the vile king spoke through bloodied breath. "Blasphemer!"

He cursed not just Cathay's name but all those who ignored his call. Though it was the Archfiend that had plotted and waited for this moment to strike, in the eyes of the dying Ruler all who chose against his side were sniveling cowards.

Damning them with what remained of his life, the false king Uxaes dragged themselves forward with what little was left of their arms and strength. Ancient chitin was broken, old bones had been snapped. Flesh was torn out in chunks, and even with treatment of some form survival from damage of this degree was not a guarantee. Even so, the dying Lord wished for nothing more than to drill their claws through their betrayer's eyes. Every single one of the remaining twelve deserved death, and they swore to be the one to deliver their final rest. 

"I am… the only GOD!" 

They were so much younger than herself, yet when Cathay looked into the eyes of Uxaes she saw only the nauseating belief of their own superiority. That she was a lesser creature in comparison to them.

It was fitting then that this belief be among the upended King’s last thoughts… as they soon found their head pierced clean through.

"No. You're really not." 

The Archfiend's tail tore the vile dome that was this Upstart's skull before splitting it down like the two halves of some rotten fruit. In doing so the short but bloodied reign of the False King Uxaes came to an end. While the kill would still be credited to the young Butcher, her effort being a product no one else could replicate, the true killing blow was Cathay's. The truth would be hidden, perhaps in the hope of propelling the Mako's name to the status of legends, though in likelihood very few might care for how Uxaes was slain. 

It was no secret that the deceased King was unloved, and so long as their name was forgotten none but the most prideful, or delusional, of the Deep Wastes would truly care for their passing.

Cathay lamented the loss of her tablet's original purpose. Far more than she lamented the state her 'ally' was in. Seeing how they had been turned away from their original intentions, refashioned into something she had not wished; the Primordial grew disgusted to see the state they were in now. All three tablets had been reshaped into armaments most foul.

A tome of ever inspiring sheets. Serving as a gateway to creation's deepest of magics, no single page would contain the same information again. All things could be found into its bindings, yet all things could be lost as well. it was a reliquary of nigh-endless insight to those able to plunge its depths..

A cudgel formed from the stones of ruin, as well as the skulls of those who thought to stand against the False King. Or even the remains of their far too few allies. A diabolical maw that spared no one; the wounds made through such a weapon would be enough to harm even a Primordial. Mayhaps even a Ruler.

And lastly, a charm which concealed the eyes of the all-seeing. The ultimate disguise against the omniscient; none would be able to discern the existence of one who brandished such a trinket. A coward's favored instrument.

All three artifacts of sorrow, forged from slabs made for domination, had been used against the Mako warrior in the hopes of gaining victory over them. A useless struggle, they availed their wielder nothing but a slow demise against the young Calamity. Still, to see them now and understand the new yet frightening powers behind them was an insult to Cathay's own achievements.

If able to, she would reshape them again in the future. Possibly hide them away across creation to keep such events from transpiring again. But nothing she did would do away with the knowledge that one built upon creations of her own design… and improved what she had made.

Though the false King was despised, some praise was deserved. Old as she is, Cathay would not have risked turning her slabs into weapons. Too noticeable, easily countered by the right opponent, as Uxaes learned, and far more likely to place a target upon one's back. 

The dead King's bold stupidity was impressive, all things considered.

In the end though the deed was done. Uxaes was no more, and Cathay could breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever danger she may have found herself in prior to this grand demise had passed. Her fellow primals, five allies in total, had kept the greater expanse of the Deep preoccupied, and with their brood-kin they slaughtered any who might be loyal to the False Ruler. Of course, many of their kind had died in this blasted civil war, the Depths strongest among those numbers, and though none who allied themselves with the Archfiend perished, the conclusion of this short conflict ended in the near extinction of some of creations' oldest entities. Any longer and the Depths could have very well lost those who stood at the epoch of strength since before the concept of time.

But again, they would grow from this setback. The Depths would rise again, just as it always does. Run from it. Hide from it. Evolution advances through gnashing teeth and blood stained fields. The Deep would never fall so long as its Kings and Queens remained. It was an inevitability engraved into the very foundation of totality

The only force which might threaten the kingdom most reviled would be those who defied the very laws of the cosmos. A Calamity in the flesh. Which meant… that left only the young Butcher and the danger she presented for Cathay to deal with.

The Archfiend turned away from what was the still fresh corpse of the former Lord of the Deep, facing the Mako warrior as they struggled to breathe; their own blood filling their gills and lungs. 

"What, oh what, shall I do with you?" She wondered aloud. "You're but a few minutes away from death, my Dear." The Butcher's body was in almost as bad a state as her foe. Nearly ripped in half, they lay convulsing within the chamber that was the dead King's throne room. A macabre trophy chamber that was lined with the bodies of those who had stood defiant, now only moments away from having two more bodies added to its mounds of flesh.

Logically, the young Warrior should be eradicated. Killed and left to rot here, waiting for any other beast to arrive and feast upon their decayed flesh. Her very existence was an incredible danger after all. That nature of a Calamity was far too risky a trait to leave alive in the cosmos. Far too troublesome for even the Deep Wastes' liking.

And yet… without her, that very domain would have torn itself apart in its entirety. Forgotten like so many kingdoms that had risen and fallen along the axis of time. Nothing would have remained of the Depths without her. And to make matters worse…

Even in their bloodied, bruised, and gore ridden state, Cathay still found them to be wonderfully appealing to her tastes. Somehow, the blue blood of the Elder Ruler had added to the lovely complexion of the Mako's already cyan hair. It shined brightly, pairing lovingly with their magenta eyes. They were beautiful. Now more than the centuries prior when the two first met.

Time in which the two had grown remarkably close.

Close enough that, unintentionally or not, the Archfiend had developed affection which itself was originally born out of trust.

They… talked. Spoke as equals when Cathay even spoke down to her own kin. This young-blooded Depthborn did not care for their respective stations. The vast distances and differences between their strengths. 

It was enjoyable. To a point where the Archfiend looked forward to when she could next converse with her… 'friend'. Even now it was a strange thing to admit.

The two were companions. More than allies. And perhaps in time they might even be more than that. She could only hope as such. Were the Mako to die now, she'd be deprived of that possibility.

They were a very real threat. An abnormality in the cosmos that could grow at an unprecedented rate if left unchecked. Perhaps capable of growing into a force more formidable than Uxaes.

The only smart choice would be to end their life here and now, yet Cathay chose otherwise.

Kneeling before the Butcher's broken body, at a height similar to their own, she presented them with the green skin of her underarm.

"Feed," the Archfiend ordered. "Let my flesh heal you."

She knew she would regret this in time. There would be words received from not just the Primordials but also from those who held sizable power in other domains.

Under normal circumstances, the blood of Cathay proved too volatile a force for even Ancient Depthborn to mutate from. A result of her many faulty mutations from a life long lived. It always ended in horribly painful deaths, or fates far worse than even that, and while much of the other Primals had no issue creating broods derived from offering their own blood to lesser creature's, Cathay had nothing of the sort.

Just this once she wished for something similar. Even if it was just one being. Through her own concentration, and paired with the Butcher's abnormal nature, she hoped her blood would not end in the death of another soul. Especially one she never expected to cherish. 

Unsurprisingly, the Mako warrior fought on even when at death's door, allowing the Primordials' blood to course through her body, healing her but also serving to keep away any life-threatening mutations. While the 'infusion' wouldn't be perfect, or even allow the young Mako to evolve from this, it would give Cathay the needed time to piece their body back together.

A strenuous process no doubt, but thankfully one she could commit to without interruption. 

"You will survive this, Gilah," Cathay promised as the warrior fed upon the godly Depthborns' flesh. Their eyes were closed shut, either from pain, exhaustion, or a mixture of both. That said, from the corner of Her eyes Cathay could see the Warrior smile through whatever agony was felt. She was glad to have someone look out for them. It was a heartwarming feeling to be relied upon. Something the Archfiend was unfamiliar with.

It felt… good.

"You've got much to live for my Friend. I will stay with you for as long as I am needed. Even longer than that should you wish for it."

Gilah smiled wider, opening her eyes slightly to meet the grinning Primal. Cathay could have sworn that she heard the gurgle of a chuckle leave the Leviathan's throat as they closed their eyes once more to rest.

Of course, the decision to save a Calamity's life wouldn't go well with Cathay's allies. Future matters needed her utmost attention, and the Primal One's would not take such a distraction with ease. They wished the Butcher dead, and were it not for Cathay they would have killed her at the first available chance.

That said, they had no ground to stand on in denying the Archfiend. Her strength was greater, her voice louder. Her words carried far greater weight than anything her kin might have to say. If she wished Gilah alive, then there was nothing the other Primordials could do to sway their strongest.

Whatever grievances they had would be pushed aside. Such things were necessary. It was Cathay after all who they deemed the worthiest to succeed the foul Uxaes.

As such, the eldest of the Depths had no choice but to lend her their ear, fall to her words. Such were the wishes of their Queen to be. 

***

When had these kings and queens of the Deep last gathered, Cathay wondered. Tens of thousands of years prior to her ascension. A converging of minds to plot against the dread Uxaes, scheming his downfall; but after that the Ruler could not say. She was content with just leaving these Primordial beings alone, allowing them to do as they pleased so long as they didn't make her life any more difficult. 

It was better this way after all. Being second in power only to the cosmos' vaunted Rulers, the scope of a Primal's influence was something to rightly fear. Alone, a single soul was a threat to a plane of existence in its entirety. Gradual destruction on a scale that could not be prevented by any but the most powerful, the most influential of strength. Coupled with the strength of their brood, their kin, and their domain as a whole, there was no force in the Multiverse which could hold back the tide of devastation that would surely follow.

It was pure relief that any and all Primals wished only to be left to their own devices, which itself normally revolved around their near endless slumber. Few among the surviving twelve ever proved active enough to be worthy of concern, and those who were knew better than to cross their Queen. The five present, titans all in their own right, understood this. While some still struggled to rouse themselves of their thousand years long sleep, others no doubt waited with bated breath over what they had been summoned for. 

From the time she took the throne of the Depths, to this very meeting, this would be their first official gathering since Cathay assumed the mantle of Ruler. 

Curiosity was prevalent. Intrigue over what could have invoked such a summoning. The Primal’s would mark this down as the first true test of their Majesty's station no doubt. Something she’s put off for a long time.  

Cathay surveyed the land before her, taking it in with a great sense of satisfaction. It had been too long since she's last been here. Deep within the Dreaming City, or what remained of it to be precise. From the once great ivory trees that tried to bind her, to the toppled towers which contained the plotted potential of creatures big and small. Even the remains of many a silver tinted colossus remained, along with the battered corpses of countless Depthborn.

We're Cathay to close her eyes she could almost picture it. That day she laid low the chiefest of Rulers. The moment the cosmos learned the terror that was the Archfiend, the Deep Drake, the one true Ruler of the Depths. The proverbial cherry on top was that in this moment, as Cathay reminisced on history older than most gods, she did so from the very hand of her old adversary. The petrified, unmoving corpse of Lubaeron himself. Posed in death, reaching towards a star-less sky; his hand serving as a colossal throne for his murderer. 

Cathay sat on it as she would some seat, her legs dangling off the edges of her dead foe's palm. She had only grown enough to where she could sit comfortably, a few hundred feet in height perhaps, nowhere near her full scale. It was not needed, and from her vantage point upon Lubaeron's corpse she was still more than able to look down at her kin as they took shape upon arrival. Unlike herself, the other Primals needed their time to assume their forms. Or at least those who didn't have some favored structure. Something which they could ‘default to’, like Cathay. Being asleep for so long, some often forget the uses of certain biological features. 

And other times, they remembered only the appendages which served to make the most noise. A loud entrance if you would.

A thunderous crash raged out across the ruins of the Dreaming City, shaking the infinite expanse as a lone spine covered tendril seemingly miles in length collided into the earth at an equally as long distance away. The tendril stretched off into the expanse before rising towards the sky, trailing until it reached the body of its host who themself seemed to extend ever upward into the firmament above. 

An ungodly abomination. Some impossibly long serpent that coiled endlessly into itself as well as around the ruins of the city; never growing tangled no matter how often it stirred. From Cathay's perch she could recognize the sight that would defy all notions of logic; a living creature that by itself could be considered its own ecosystem. A leviathan of planetary length, and yet still restrained in size. It was good they chose to spawn so far away from Cathay's perch on top of Lubaeron's palm. It would be hard to focus were they only a few comparative steps away. That said, the sight of the titan was certainly hard to ignore even from where she sat.

Across the whole length of the Primal's body were innumerable spikes covered tendrils that slithered without end, grasping equally sharp spurs of black bone that covered the entire width of the leviathan's form. As the beast rose, so too did its head. An ever burning maw shielded behind two mountain shattering tusks longer than their skull was wide. 

Truly a great being of matter. A terror older than time, just as the rest of the Primordials were, though this one in particular was old even among the rest. Almost as old as Cathay. Through its outward appearance one could rightfully reveal the beast's naturally destructive nature, to look into their pale eyes would be subjecting yourself to calm rationality. A thinking mind, brilliant in many ways. As were the qualities of Rathmas, The Great Sunderer. 

The Leviathan reared its impossibly long body up so high that it seemed at any moment they might break through the reality shackling confines of the fallen Kingdom of Dreams. Instead, they opened their maw and extended their pincers outwards as they… yawned?

"My… bones ache…", Rathmas complained, followed by a long winded exhale. "I dreamed of worlds flourishing, and empires falling. It was… enjoyable". The pattern of their speech was slow, methodical, and their voice was deep enough to shake the domain in its entirety again. A shred of the manifold, infinite in width and length. It proved of little trouble to Rathmas. That said, not once did it threaten to destroy that which remained. The Old Primordial knew how to control their destructive might. A pleasantry really, as none in the cosmos possessed a roar as fierce as theirs, who with a single call is said to be capable of wiping out a dozen galaxies. "I hope… the Ruler has fair reason to summon us." Though the level of their voice was tempered, that did nothing to stop Cathay's perch from shaking so much. To a point near nauseousness. She sat firmly, using summoned wings to anchor herself to the petrified flesh of her old foe. 

"I would like to return to my slumber." Rathmas noted

Old Rathmas, like all of Cathay's court, had shown their loyalty through acceptance of the Archfiend's rule. They acknowledged her strength as greater than any others, and as such were loyal to a point of absolution. Power dictated much, though Cathay demonstrated more than reliance on that quality alone. Rathmas respected that.

They are a worthy ally to have, one Cathay would wish to keep on her side for millennia to come. 

Seeing their Ruler even through the vast distance between the two of them, and immediately noticing how their perch on top of a corpse placed them at a position lower than their planetary self, Rathmas hastily lowered their body into the ruins of the city, flattened anything beneath his form as he bowed to the best of his abilities. At once, any shifting seen across the expanse that was his shape came to a halt, their whole being geared towards subserving to their master. 

An appreciated gesture, one that earned a smile from Cathay. Unfortunately it was quickly interrupted as a chuckle turned both Primordials' attention away from their desire to move things along, and for a brief moment aggression was strewn across the Old Serpent's face. Rathmas' spines grew larger in size; sharper as another kin made their appearance known.

"Calm, Old One. Patience," A voice whispered out from above the City. From the firmament tore free a burning streak of cobalt flame. A shining star that quickly dispersed the energy which surrounded it, revealing what looked to be muted scales. These plates of apparent armor, a carapace, steamed from the intense heat that surrounded them not long ago, and was only dispelled when two wings sprouted from the back of the falling entity. "Our Majesty has need of our ears. We as servants are inclined to listen. And obey."

As their body continued to unfurl it became clear that this voice was heard everywhere, not through sound but by thought. Vocalization mentally projected by some saurian monstrosity. A creature that may at first be mistaken for a dragon of great worth, but in truth was anything but. Though wings did sprout from the Horror's back, and in the dark they may possess the silhouette of a dragon, there was hardly any ounce of majesty to be seen in the terrifying visage of Noxris, the Plague Bearing Wyrm. What was mistaken for scales was in truth pale white chitin. A tough colorless outer shell, an exoskeleton, that defended even sturdier internals. Despite the heft of this external armor however, the False Dragon's saurian body was gaunt. Seemingly malnourished and lacking areas of flesh. They even lacked a lower half, seemingly forced to crawl on their belly like some louse, though this bothered the beast little.

Such an apparent disregard for outward health did not impede Noxris. If anything, it was hardly a bother. This was the form they had possessed for a millenia. It suited them well, they thought, and as such they had no trouble moving with it, flying down and coming to a perch upon an ivory tree a vast distance away from the still growling Rathmas. Noxris placed themselves opposite of their master, who herself waited patiently several hundreds of meters beyond the Dragon's reach. 

Despite the distance between all present, their sight of one another never faltered. They knew where their kin was at all times. 

To demonstrate this, Noxris reared up from their perch on the tree, the only portion of their lower half able to aid them in this being their numerous barbed tails, all of which wrapped around the ivory structure. They extended their pale, flesh-like wings outward as they faced their master, basking in the glow of her radiance. 

A sign of respect among dragonkind. 

Though Noxris possessed no visible facial features on their rigid, cylindrical dome of a head other than their mouth, the Primal had no trouble looking at their Queen. If anything, their blindness allowed them to see her true self. The god that hid behind mammalian flesh. Even at such a fair distance away their sight was greater than any other creature.

“My Queen. It is ever a pleasure to make your acquaintance~.”

A charmer this one, and like Rathmas a calculating mind. It was no coincidence the two arrived close to one another. In the ancient past these Primals in particular found themselves often butting heads, fighting for territory, or scheming against the other's wishes. They were rivals older than time, and though this alliance that was Cathay’s council kept their teeth from each other's throats there was still clear animosity demonstrated. One sided though it may be. 

Rathmas was larger. Far more so than their smaller kin. And yet Noxris wasn't taken aback by the sheer difference in scale. Though a mite by comparison they were not deterred, not even a little bit. They did not need sight to see the length of Rathmas' form, and though the form the Sunderer assumed was fit to coil around a planet, the False Dragon by comparison was lesser than even the like of most whelps. 

Hardly more than a few hundred meters compared to Rathmas' millions. That said, Noxris's rivaling power was more than seen as through their touch alone the ivory tree they rested upon blackened and changed. Its form altered the longer the Wyrm rested on top of it, mutating, gestating, turning it into something far from the beauty it once encapsulated. Silver branches turned black and grew the same chitinous growths which dotted the Plague-Wyrm's body, all the while a pus-like ooze slowly seeped from the 'bark'. 

"Vile creature." Rathmas insulted as he raised his voice. The city shook as a result, cracks forming in ancient streets. Their pale eyes were locked onto their ancient rival, or more precisely the effects of their presence. "Mutater! Plague on the Depths! How our Ruler thought you would be suitable for a seat at her table boggles the mind!" 

The elder Primal inhaled deeply as they worked to ease their anger. Tearing their jaws into the Dreaming City's crust, they ripped free untold tons of stone before crushing it between their great many teeths. A territorial display and nothing more. 

"Of all our dreaming brothers and sisters, you should have been the first to fall, Defiler!"

Noxris turned from their master to face their old nemesis, their wings remaining unfurled though now in a territorial display to match Rathmas’s. Cobalt flames built within their chest before rising to rest inside their jaws. The mutations which spread from their mere appearance hastened, reaching beyond the ivory tree and towards the Sunderer. It did not make it far, as with a tendril the massive leviathan slammed down upon the corruption, shattering its progress. 

The Corruptor remained unmoving. "Bold, aren't we? To challenge my survival so hastily, when you yourself subsisted on our kindreds' flesh like some scavenger." With a brief expulsion of their flame, and flap of their wings, the blue fire peppered the soil beneath the dragon. From it rose pale abominations. Wingless terrors that mirrored their creators' appearance, though possessing legs with which they skittered on. Though small in size, nearly humanoid, from that small amount of flame several thousands were able to form before flooding the ruins of the city. "If you've an issue with my continued existence, then I implore you to remedy it. That is… unless the Sunderer is afraid…"

As expected, the bickering had begun. From her position atop Lubaeron’s stone palm, Cathay rested her head within her palm. 

Sitting cross legged, she could only wait as the two imbeciles pushed through their argument. It would no doubt take some time for their insults to pass. Very rarely did these confrontations turn violent, and when they did she was among the few quick to stop them. Even before taking her throne, Cathay's power was more than enough to put an end to stubborn buffoons. It would serve no one even then if her supposed allies tore themselves apart before swearing their allegiance. 

That said, the control she possessed over her own court would be drawn into question were this allowed to continue. As things stood in the present, and with her reputation across the cosmos, this would not serve as a good image for Cathay. Regardless of the likelihood of whether this might turn violent or not, any conflict was something Cathay wasn't going to risk.  

"Both of you, stop your-"

But Cathay didn't manage to get much out as, to her shock and surprise, a faint ringing assaulted her ears. Nothing too painful, the shrill tone hardly being registered by her kin. But to one such as the Archfiend it was hard to miss. What might be passed off as some function of this mammalian body of hers was not seen as such. Though barely perceivable, this ringing would not fade should it be ignored. It persisted. Long enough for Cathay to understand that it was unnatural. 

She was being targeted. Watched from afar. A spell perhaps, or something more? She wasn’t certain.

And that alone was concerning, as to make matters stranger she couldn't see who it was that would be so bold as to eavesdrop on her. She could not reach out and pluck them from whatever delusional safety they believed themselves hidden behind. The only beings capable of that were Rulers of a level of power similar to her own. 

Or those that brandished her old Tablets of Ruin. Concerning, and something she can't ignore. 

Her attention returning to the two bickering Primals, Cathay realized she needed to halt their tedious squabbles, lest they say something they shouldn't in this meeting of minds. 

"QUIET!!!" The Archfiend's voice rang out with ferocity that quickly forced both Primordials to cease their antics and bow. Not out of fear but unquestionable respect and loyalty. 

Cathay's power was unneeded for a demonstration of control. Both beings knew not to test their Majesty's patience, even at this infinitesimal size of her current shape. Her form shifted all the same though. Unintentionally, Cathay's human guise faltered. A result of her rising annoyance. She lost control, though thankfully she did not grow, and thus did not do away with the clothing her beloved girlfriend had gotten for her. Her skin and hair however reverted back to the same coloration she had possessed prior to living on Earth. Sickly green, and raven black locks. 

Paired with her radiating, molten eyes and it seemed the Archfiend had never even left the Depths.

"You will both be quiet," Cathay commanded as her own wings began to unfurl. Darkness enveloped the domain as all light drained away. In its place were the all too familiar maddening red eyes of those who earned the ire of the Archfiend. The gaze of countless mad beasts, reflections of the Archfiend's past selves that now threatened to consume Noxris and Rathmas. "If the two of you wish to fight, let it be against me. Then, as you find yourselves piecing together pieces of your own bodies, understand that I don't tolerate ineptitude from the Depths eldest. You are gods of the Deep. Both of you! Act like it!" 

Her words were felt, her commands heeded. One warning, that was all they would be allowed. Anymore and the two Primals would find themselves on thin ice. 

"Our infinite apologies, your Highness." Rathmas said, their head lowered once again until they were certain it was below Cathay's seat of power. 

"We forgot ourselves. Our place." Noxris noted, their wings coiled around their body as though to shield themselves from their Queen's irritation. "It will not happen again."

Somehow, Cathay highly doubted that. Even old Zathas and the All-seer Alsana were unable to end this rivalry of theirs. So long as they stopped for the time being however, where prying eyes and ears watched and listened, it shouldn't matter what they did in the future. As long as things ran smoothly from here on out, Cathay didn't care. 

Or as smoothly as things could while some Primals still remained absent. 

"Good," Cathay rubbed the temple of her forehead, already feeling a headache forming. "Save your insufferable natures for afterwards, when I've said what needs to be said. My mood is already sour as is. For both your sakes pray you're not the ones who make it worse."

Though her plan was to wait patiently and in silence, as if on cue, and only serving to annoy her further, a tear tore through the darkened expanse that once was the sky above the ruined city. A passage into the greater unknown of the cosmos. A signal of the arrival of two more Primordials.

The Archfiend clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Nevermind…"

Fresh from the heels of two annoyances, now faced to contend with two more. At least this time they were those of a quieter variety. 

The first, or rather third, to arrive was of a strange sort. Even by Depth standards, the Primal was out of place; a planetary sphere. A moon barren of anything beyond the ordinary, visible even through Cathay's summoned darkness. It gleamed a dull green light, ever perceivable even in the darkest of nights. While dimmer than suns and stars, somehow this planetary body continued to shine on. In the corner of your eyes, just on the outer edge of your vision, it would always remain. Endlessly, eternal, the Mad Moon saw you even if you chose to ignore it. 

Obviously, due to the scope of their size, it rested far beyond the confines of the city, waiting within the void above. Any closer, and the gravity of the ruined city might find itself upended. Confused at first as to what she was seeing, it wasn't until the moon's surface began to crack did Cathay realize what was happening. She smiled as a result. 

A singular fissure formed across the sphere's surface, drawing the attention of those Primals who might witness this arrival. From this tear across the astronomical body, a green glow emanated within revealing rows upon rows of sharp, jagged teeth. The planet wide maw salivated endlessly, streaming below itself without intention. An unconscious action that only arose due to this Primal's inexperience when housed within a physical form. 

And what a dull form it was, though Cathay expected little else from Mahoon, the Voidbane. While as old herself, the Devourer of Destroyers was far less… creative in the shapes they assumed. Now more than ever as they had long since transcended the need for a physical body, and while capable of inhabiting a form it was usually through the possession of worlds. The quiet Primordial often preferred existing only as a whisper. To them that was their purpose. Existing without a body, without limit and worry, ever present in the minds of all those their formless expanse overshadowed. 

In the heyday of their terror, Mahoon was a name nearly as feared as Cathay’s. The Mad Hue as some might call him, as those who earned his ire only ever saw a light of emerald green before being devoured. Over the eons however, they became the first to retire to dormancy after doing away with their flesh. 

It was an earned respite. Were there a being worthy of succeeding the throne of the Deep besides Cathay herself, in the past it most certainly would have been the Voidbane. Now, they preferred the quiet serenity of their existence. That said, when the Old One chose to move against obstreperous forces of the cosmos, only Hell could be expected for those caught in their waking devastation. 

Technically, Cathay would consider Mahoon the most indolent of her court. The one who took joy in their dreams the most. Even when active they rarely spoke beyond more than a single word. She’d be amazed if they said anything in this meeting.

The Archfiend wasn't even sure she could say the same for their fellow arrival, N'ryda. The one who had arrived alongside Mahoon, and perhaps the most harmless of the Primals, though for reasons far from an altruistic nature. Appearing before their Ruler, Cathay was cast in the shadow of one so much like herself; titanic and otherworldly. The silent Primordial stood patiently, resting on her side, giving Cathay the chance to see what so many had likely seen of herself before.

A titan.

N’ryad was large, as is about par with the elders of the Deep, though still smaller than the likes of even the Plague-Wyrm. Clad in dark robes and numerous golden adornments, few have seen the face of the Depths own Pale Lady. Now Cathay was one of the few allowed the chance to look beneath the hood of their cloak. A beauty to be sure, pale as death itself but possessing lovely, if not unkempt, locks of golden hair. 

There was no light in their eyes, no sense of life, but the Archfiend knew them to be breathing. She could feel it, in the minute twitches of each one of the Pale Lady’s four arms. In her fingers, at her wrists, her whole musculature was alive, though Cathay didn’t know when last they had moved of their own volition. Most of all though, she could feel it in N’ryad’s breath. Being so close to her, at such an infinitesimal size, meant that each breath the dark goddess took was threatening to pull their Ruler in with simple inhalations through their nose and mouth. Were it not for anchoring her wings down prior, Cathay may have very well been sucked in. 

A strange thought. One she would have to look to Valerie to… explore. 

It was not their intention to be so close to the statuesque hand that held the Queen of the Deep, but their actions could not be helped. N’ryad, for all intents and purposes, was brain dead. A mindless, beautiful idiot that hadn’t held a thought for herself for as long as she’s lived. Despite their quiet disposition, they were only a being of power. Raw, untapped, and furious when provoked; rare though it may be. Such strength had earned them many titles, though chief among them was the insulting and strange moniker as the Puppeteered Goddess. A curious namesake to those that did not know her story. 

Behind N’ryad, resting on the Goddess’s back, was an oddity of a creature. A green, slimy mass of tendrils and eyes that coiled and gripped itself around its Lady’s limbs. When it moved she moved. When she needed to breathe, it allowed her to do so. The creature helped her, guided her attention and thoughts. 

While at first glance the oddity may seem some sort of a puppet master, the truth of the matter was that in many ways this creature was N’ryads’ provider. Her caretaker. Without it she was mindless. Mute and blind, little more than a mass of power that needed to be controlled. Together, through cooperation, they possessed something reminiscent of a partnership. The creature served as the sole true progeny of their master, their literal mind, and posed no danger to their well-being. A blessing, as without them there’d be nothing to defend the Piloted Mistress from danger; nor anything to hold her back when retaliation against such foolishness arose. 

Cathay couldn’t recall when last the Silent Lady possessed a thought that was her own and wasn’t just spurned by their little pet. She could not recall when they had lost their mind, only for it to move onto her back as some newer entity. Whatever events may have happened, of the twelve they were the only Primal which had their master’s pity. 

At the very least their creature provider was of the wise sort. Not much of a talker, but then that didn’t much bother the rest. They allowed their actions to prove their worth, and their Lordship’s strength to finalize any goals. They were trustworthy. Enough that they had been allowed a seat at the proverbial table. To even be so close to their Ruler, when the rest made sure to place themselves beneath her, was a sign of such trust. 

The mindful creature moved the body of its mistress, guiding her until she had shimmied her way across their queen. Nearly as large as Lubaeron’s petrified form, anything beneath the Silent Goddess’s stride was quickly crushed. Steamrolled beneath thighs, arms, and legs as she was moved forward to a more respectable distance. A placement that wouldn’t endanger their Ruler. 

The destruction extended to those of Noxris’s spawn. They were neither registered nor cared for as they were crushed beneath soft flesh, and as N’ryads’ hand was placed onto the ground to prop herself upright a hundred more were flattened. The Plague-Wyrm would not call out such disregard for his brood. They too pitied the state of their fellow royal. 

With the arrival of Mahoon and N’ryad, the previous bickering of Noxris and Rathmas had died down completely. When it was just themselves they could continue on for centuries at a time, but when cast in the shadow and sights of their kin they understood the need to be more presentable. Respectful of the time they had taken to arrive here. It was no easy feat for N’ryads’ pet to drag her here, nor was it likely pleasant for Mahoon to situate themselves in a physical body. Any distractions from what was important was an insult to the both of them. 

Smiling, Cathay was pleased to see her court finally settling. Four of the five who had allied themselves with her, leaving just one behind. And if the truth were to be spoken, the last one wasn’t a dire necessity.

In all honesty, the longer they were absent the better. Of the five, it was the last which caused the hair on Cathay's neck to stand straight. Not to say they were untrustworthy, all of the five knew who to bend their knees to. But of the five, the One which disturbed even the Archfiend was an entity many chose to give a wide berth. 

Unwilling to risk their sudden arrival, and not wanting to give this meeting’s silent observer any more time to process what they were seeing, Cathay tapped a finger against the giant palm she sat on. Low it first, the repeated tapping grew in volume until all present heard it. 

“I suppose now is as good a time as any...” Cathay explained as she addressed her court. “For us to continue forward here on-” 

Once again she was interrupted, by both the ringing of the unseen onlooker and the silent presence of another; one hidden in the flesh of the dead Ruler. Despite cursing under breath, Cathay’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, she found herself chuckling. 

Of course things were never simple in her kingdom. Were they, another would have taken the throne in her place. Still, Cathay wished for her kin to at least give her the benefit of doing as she had planned before making their presence known. While no true issue as the matter at hand had still yet to be discussed, such interruptions didn’t serve her growing head pain. 

“On second thought, how about we disrupt what I'm saying? Does that sound enticing, Mother Mergo?" Annoyed, Cathay turned to one of Lubaeron’s fingers as a figure began to pull itself from the hardened flesh of the dead King. Humanoid and feminine; a recent development as last Cathay had seen her they were anything but. As they stepped through pulsating meat, it was clear to see the borderline righteous robes which adorned the fair skin of one seemingly most holy. Or rather unholy in this instance, as the history of this last Primordial was as bloodied as their repertoire of skills. They stitched together their body, piecing ligaments, muscles, and bone, forming them alongside religious cloth that symbolized their faith. A twisted combination of Daemon and Angelic beliefs, molded together to form something unsettling to an outside perspective. 

The process was quick and skilled, the Unholy Matron being the foremost manipulator of flesh within the Depths. Perhaps the Multiverse as a whole as well. Mergo was there at the beginning of conception after all. She saw when form first became bound to flesh and bone. It intrigued her. To the point where she learned how best to use it. Often it changed her outward appearance, turning the soft spoken being into something normally monstrous. Strangely caring, yet grotesque all the same.

Cathay did not see that here

Stepping through completely, what Cathay was met with now was a knife-eared beauty taller than herself; curvaceous and beautiful yet possessing the same terrifying presence as her primal brothers and sisters. There was not an ounce of rot on their body. No gore or blood that marked their arrival. Still, Mergo reeked of decay. Of endless death. A cancerous flood. 

A motherly figure that smiled as her body settled in, flesh and cloth coming together finely. 

“On second thought, you never cared much for the authority of one’s position, did you?” Cathay asked. “Always doing as you wish, seeing any opportunity to expand the reach of your flock. Your sheep.” 

Though Mergo stood above her Queen it did not matter. Of the five, a Ruler’s authority mattered little to the aptly named Mother of the Lost. Matron of Decay, and Heart of Malice. In her mind there were more important matters in the cosmos than falling underneath a Lord’s thumb. 

Still, their Queen’s call was heard and thus needed to be answered, if only just to satiate curiosity. 

“Would you not do the same, Archfiend? If only to see those who rely upon you safe and secured? Happy knowing all they’ll ever want can be found in the embrace of the strong.” Mergo explained, her smile steadfast. “Or rather… my embrace. For who in our Kingdom is more caring than I?” 

Cathay could name a fair few that fit that description more than Mergo. But still, she was closer to the mark then she may have realized. That desire to protect those weaker than yourself.

Or perhaps she did understand, quickly reducing the purpose behind this seemingly sudden meeting. Either case was enough to concern Cathay. 

Mergo always was one to quickly learn intentions. 

“My children are lost without the mercy I can grant them. As are all the weak ones of the Manifold. So I ask, what matters are greater than the security of my little lambs?”

In a flash, Mergo was gone. Vanished into the hardened skin below only to appear behind Cathay. Though their movement was seen and felt by the Archfiend, her actions were allowed. Even as the Mother of the Lost placed her hand upon Her Majesty’s shoulder, her blue tipped fingers being the only thing which Cathay cared to look at, such proximity to the strongest of the Depths was granted. 

Nothing would be gained were Cathay to lash out against Mergo for just being too close, even if the hairs on her neck stood on end. The rest of the Primals remained uneasy, watching carefully for their Ruler’s reaction. Each one of them were ready to restrain the Unholy Matron should they be given the single order. 

Of the five Primals, the title of Ruler was not something that swayed Mergo. Her self imposed duties were of greater importance to her, a result of the bodies which she dined on so often in the past. She had developed what for the longest time was the most affectionate nature within the Deep. Not necessarily altruism, but rather love. Pure, unrestrained and uninhibited by morality. Misshapen, mutated, much like all things in the Deep. 

She had consumed the flesh of angels and demons, gods and devils, taking into herself the mentality and might of both. It all coalesced into the eventual viewing of herself as a religious figure. The singular most righteous entity in the Kingdom most Reviled, and though many Depthborn cared little for matters of faith and religion, that did not stop Mergo from spreading her influence across the cosmos. Even if the corners of creation she visited were unwilling to hear her words.

She offered a place for the lost ones. Those who had no home, no path forward in life. The self destructive, the delusional, the mad. She held open arms for all willing to hear her call of love. 

Mergo cared for her followers, her children. Truly she did. But often this love took shape in the form of refitting those unfortunate followers into something more appropriate of their Mother’s tastes. Mutations and adaptations to circumvent any inherent weakness; and for a Primal of such power all that was not of her design was weak. 

The Macabre Mother’s grip tightened, almost threateningly, as Cathay turned to look at her. Molten eyes met those blood red, and all fell silent within the ruins of the Dreaming City. The Primordials waited as the ringing ceased, and all present wondered if Mergo would actually challenge the strongest produced within the Deep. 

The Matron’s smile never faltered, even as her grip continued to tighten. Though vastly more powerful than them, Cathay couldn’t help but be unnerved by the gaze of her Kin’s eyes. Like her own, they were the last things seen by many before eventually falling. Unlike herself however, there were very few instances in her long life where Mergo had ever killed another. If pushed so far, that was feat in and of itself, and normally only strictly business. All she has faced she has consumed. Made a part of herself, kept alive in some way, shape, or form. Whether such a fate was worse than death or a kindness in the grand scheme of things was a mystery the Archfiend didn’t wish to think about. 

“Tell me, my Lord, will my flock be made to suffer because of your unkindness? Your refusal to see the importance of their fragile lives?” Despite her terrible history, Mergo was fiercely defensive of those who called her mother. She was their god, their patron, and there were already so many in the multiverse who did not hear the prayers of their followers. She would not follow such examples. She would be better. 

“Will you follow in the footsteps of dread Uxaes? Break the unfortunate on your wheel of pain? That is a story with an ending we already know.”

A threat. 

The type that would have normally been a death sentence. None in their right mind would have even thought of speaking in such a manner towards the Archfiend of the Depths. Slayer of the Ruler of the Dreaming City, Creator of the Calamities, and Forger of Ruination. She whose name was spoken with nary a whisper for fear of invoking unseen wrath. Only Mergo would think to take such a risk, and only Mergo would get away with such words. 

Cathay’s gaze softened as she stifled a laugh. “Goodness, one would think you practiced such lines in a mirror. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought you were willing to challenge me.” 

Silent for a few moments, Mergo’s expression softened as well. Her smile grew kind, her eyes soft. “I am glad you think so, my Ruler. Keeping up with such appearances requires constant practice, and as I do not slumber as often as our dear siblings I find myself nearly forgetting our legendary bloodlust. I shall say, it is lovely to hear such efforts have borne fruit!” 

“Make no mistake my Queen, only a fool would fight you. Crown or not, you were chosen for your strength and mind. Had my threats and intentions been true I would not be here to express my apologies.” Placing a hand upon her cheek, Mergo’s head cocked slightly. Her thoughts fell to her children as she worried about their safety. “But I did not lie in the matters of my sheep. They cannot live without their goddess, and I would so hate to see them dead due to my absence. So many lives in all universes are so often unattended to. It truly is a sad thing to see prayers go unanswered, is it not?”

With her threats proving little more than a game, a joke which caused so many to worry, the Primordials relaxed. Like a breath that had been held in for too long, it hurt to hold onto such potential worry. They had grown strong to leave behind such conflicts, not get involved in more. They did not have the numbers to risk such pastimes anymore. 

“Still you care for so many Whelps?” Noxris asked in bemusement. While each Primal possessed their own brood, beings graced by the power of their blood, none viewed them in the same manner as Mergo would. Means to an end while she viewed them as her own. “Ohh, but not just Whelps of our blood, you harbor the lesser things of totality as well. Angels and Devils, Dwellers of the Void and Things of uncertainty. Anything that has lost their way. Broken, pathetic, they would serve you better as meat, not as pets.” 

Mergo scoffed, finding herself insulted at the prospect of ever choosing to dine on her own flock. Even those she found herself displeased with were never done away with in such an uncivilized fashion. Though, as is common of her, whether the fate they suffered was a blessing or an ending worse than death is a matter of deep, and usually twisted, perspective. “Of course you would think so, Plague-Wyrm. When one’s brood is naught more than an extension of themself, they lose much value of the lives lost in their name. My flock is smart. It is embraced, filled with love and devotion. Though I suspect a wyrm, or rather worm, such as yourself could never possibly understand that.”

Turned irate, Noxris’s hold on his perch grew. To the point where he threatened to collapse the entire thing. His wings brandished, the dragon seemed ready to lift himself towards and against Mergo’s words. “Wretch! Who do you think you are, calling me a worm!?”

Though not one truly, Noxris certainly possessed the pride of a dragon. He certainly barked like one when insulted…

Not wishing for another argument to spark, Cathay clapped her hands together to bring such possibility to an end. Mergo and Noxris fell in line quickly enough. She issued a wordless but simple order; one that was universally understood no matter the language spoken.

Fall silent.

“Now, let’s not fall into our primal mindsets. It may be our namesake, but let's leave the constant battling to our youngsters. At least for now.” 

Though with silence prevalent once again, there was a point to Mergo’s previous words. 

If Cathay didn’t know any better she might even think the Macabre Mother knew of her plan already. “But the Mother of the Lost is right in one respect. She has a clearer understanding of the purpose of this gathering than the rest of you.”

Cathay swatted away Mergo’s hand as she stood up, only to momentarily be taken aback by how much taller Mergo was then herself. Even as the Macabre Mother stepped away they did not shrink. “Oh… wow, looks like someone enjoys being large…” 

While far larger than she normally was when in her humanoid form, were one to compare the two at their smallest size, Mergo might seem a fair few inches over seven feet. Well over a foot taller than Cathay would be. Given recent escapades with her dear Girlfriend, and wider insight into more base desires, Cathay could only wonder if this was a recently developed interest of the Macabre Matron. That said, it wasn’t something she was going to speak about. Not when appearances needed to be maintained. 

Shaking her head back to clarity, Cathay continued. “I have an opportunity in mind. Something sure to interest and inspire you all.” 

“It’s been an eternity since any of us have really spread our proverbial wings; I do believe it is time we changed that.” 

Already she could hear the mental cries of her kin and their unwillingness to do anything other than slumber. Barring Mergo who herself held some form of interest, the rest only wished to sleep. Cathay needed to fight the desire to abolish such behavior. She was dealing with gods after all, not children. In an ages past she would have threatened their lives for even the smallest example of such behavior. In the present though, a calmer and more refined angle was needed. The Archfiend spread her arms and wings outward as she presented herself to her kin, at long last ready to address them as a queen would. 

“Before you all cast your grievances and excuses, hear what I have to say first in regards to this golden opportunity.” Really, they had no choice but to hear her out. Even if she wasn’t threatening them, Cathay was still their Queen. 

“I grant you all this. The chance to go free, travel and consume to your black heart's content once more.” If she was going to present her plan then it would need to stand out. Human advertisement taught her that much. Though the Primordial ones wished to return to their coveted rest they were still of the Depths. A kingdom built on top of carnage and bloodshed. Though their bloodlust had been refined to such a point they did not need to worry about it like the younger Depthborn, it still remained. As part of their natural being as breathing was to man, and having slumbered so long they were no doubt starved of such delicacies. Unconsciously, in a manner of speaking. Though any would be displeased at first, after having gone so long without it the meager mention of consumption and scent of battle would no doubt serve as a wondrous lure.

And from the looks of her court’s expressions, Cathay’s tactics were working. Though some faces were easier to discern than others, the general consensus was intrigue. A quick peek into the minds of Mahoon and N’ryda, or rather her pet to be precise, showed that the interest was shared even among them. 

“I offer this; the Cosmos to you once more. The chance to relish in old vices. The Heavens, the Void, The Infernal Pits. These I will allow you to dine on again, but only temporarily. Though you have reached your respective peaks of power, I can promise in this feast a more pleasant rest… and of course satisfaction in whatever or wherever you choose to feast on.” Cathay turned to Mergo, knowing such a trick wouldn’t work on her. “Or convert, in your case. I know you care only to expand your flock so this would be an ideal time to find those tired of the endless fighting between kingdoms. Offer them the love you so enjoy reminding us all of.”

“Even when we do not wish to hear it…” Rathmas chimed in, earning themselves a quick glare from their Ruler. 

“Mouth! Zip it!” 

Sometimes it truly was like looking over the adolescent. Being so far above the rest in terms of power, the Primals were allowed to converse. To actually speak amongst themselves rather than fight for power. Of course, in such conversations came the clear bickering, annoyance between one another, as well as a slew of other issues. Be that as it may, Cathay’s words reached them. What was at first a surprise turned to interest for many. 

In fact, each of the Primals seemed more than willing to accept this development if it assured a deeper sleep; Mahoon most of all, whose jagged teeth smiled back with splendor. The cracks upon their planetary body grew wider, as more than just teeth began to reveal itself, Greater expanses of a green hue, coupled with the revelation of eyes and a myriad of strange limbs. They were forcing onto themselves a more physical body, one of their own design, rather than just some moon. No doubt to enjoy the coming feast. 

“All I ask is one little favor. A boon only you all can grant this weary Ruler, bound in chains.” Cathay lowered her wings along with her hands, displaying vulnerability to show that she hid nothing from those who followed her. 

“Feast only on those who seek to harm MY world. My temporary home away from home. Promise this and I can assure you galaxies of bodies to dine on.”

“Or care for. Mergo added, reminding Cathay of the whole bargain. 

“Yes.. yes to care for too…” Unsurprisingly, Cathay’s headache was returning the longer this went on. 

But she needed to say this. All of it. Not just to earn her court’s favor but also to show that her greatest intention was to defend the Earth, even if it came at the cost of the lives of those who might potentially harm it. 

Not assuredly. Potentially. 

Any risk would not be taken, and though Cathay couldn’t keep her domain from invading the planet’s shores, as no Ruler of the Depths could impede an invasion, she could certainly draw away the vast majority of attention. Turning the eyes of primals towards powerful kingdoms, more worthy challenges, was an ideal method to turn the greater numbers of whelps and ancients away from a weak world. While some would still invade it would be far from the danger a true invasion would entail. 

And this way, Cathay made it seem as though her only intention was to defend her new home. She would speak nothing of her planned cultivation of mankind. Not of that or of Ordegash’s hand in such plans. Because, as the Primals thought of her proposal, with less than savory reactions she might add, the ringing of the onlooker resumed and continued to persist. She was still being watched, and given the fact that she could not see who it was that watched her gave the Archfiend a good idea of who would risk such observation. Only a Calamity such as Gilah, or through the Tablets of Ruin, could she be witnessed without risk of being seen. 

So it stood to reason that the wielder of a Ruinous Slab watched her now. 

Ordegash, and more importantly Valerie. 

If they knew better, then they would stop now before peering further into whatever sights the Pale God had allowed of Cathay’s beloved human. She said only enough to show that she had humanity's best interests in mind… supposedly. 

Nothing that would prove too incriminating, that is unless the eldest Armitage held some sort of affection for the Multiverse’s other inhabitants. Whether that was the case or not though remained to be seen. Rest assured, Cathay would have words with the both of them once this was over.

In the meantime, she waited patiently for her court’s response. She could hear whispers as they mentally conversed with one another. Only through her good graces did she allow them to talk only among themselves, being easily capable of forcing their thoughts out into the open should she wish. But she couldn’t wait forever. 

They understood this, and before long finished in their contemplations. Some were unsure, others eager. All had a single question in mind though. Something they wished to be answered before giving their own responses. 

It was Noxris who spoke up, pulling themselves free from their ivory perch before crawling their way towards Cathay’s seat. They did not meet their gaze as they came to a halt besides N’ryda and her pet, both of whom also chose to lower their heads before the question could be asked. 

As though something so simple could prove harmful to their very lives.

Understandably uneasy, Noxris continued forward. Their words needed to be said. “The Mako Butcher. The… Gilah… if I recall correctly…”  

Immediately the Archfiend’s blood ran cold. It was not a good sign that their first collective thought was of them. Of Cathay’s first true companion.

“Talk carefully Plague-Wyrm,” Cathay warned. “Weigh whatever it is you have to say before speaking…”

Noxris did, or at least to the best of their abilities. Cathay heard it clearly through their thoughts, the many ways in which they could disclose the court's singular question as carefully as possible. Even then, Cathay was not prepared to hear it verbally, through the False Dragon’s own lips. “This weakness you show… in caring for some atom of creation… We have all seen it before… Vulnerability…”  

“Does this mean… the Calamity still lives?”