Duronaht’s mind wrestled with conflict on how to receive the news of Nethron’s destruction. While it was satisfying to him that Nethron would no longer be vying for his people’s loyalties, he wondered if Forynda’s banishment of the Aura Liberator had denied him a more permanent cure for his wife’s ailment. Torhess had seemed to maintain her health as it had been after Nethron’s intervention and her pregnancy continued without incident, but Nethron’s warning that it would not be permanent was never far from his mind. Every time he saw Torhess smile, he heard the words again.

So preoccupied was his mind on those thoughts that it was hours before he confronted another horrible reality. Forynda’s descent upon Nethron meant that she was at last part of the conflict. From how the other angels had described the High Angel’s power, he could not help but be gripped by fear.

Conversely, he had unrestrained joy when the grim figure of Elaous joined those rebellious angels at his army’s camp. His shimmering metallic skin drew some thousands of Duronaht’s soldiers who wished to look upon the Guardian’s splendor, which was especially brilliant in the camp’s torchlight. Duronaht’s own enthusiasm matched that of his men. As his herald announced his presence to the gathering of angels, his heart beat fiercely. After so much gloomy news, this was finally something that he could view as a true victory. Judging by the reactions of his men, they were similarly restored.

“My Angelic Lord,” Duronaht chirped and bowed as he entered the circle of angels, “I’m gladdened beyond words by your decision to join us. With your great power on our side our fortunes have radically improved!”

Most of the other angels, especially Gorondos and Parlon smiled in clear agreement. Gorondos’s eyes lit up with a bright orange glow that made clear his own satisfaction. However, Omonrel and Myrvaness each expressed a more muted reaction. Elaous himself almost imperceptibly sighed.

“I have come to you only with the greatest reluctance,” Elaous boomed. “The High Angel Forynda has engaged in cruel tyranny. Her punishment of Nethron was unjust. I could no longer serve her after she ignored my warnings. I do not have any reverence for your cause and do not presume that I do.”

Duronaht’s legs became weaker after Elaous’s stern declaration. He was terribly embarrassed in front of his own soldiers, but his mind was blessedly nimble that night. As some of his soldiers and officers began to gossip amongst themselves, he knew what he needed to say.

“Our Angelic Lord’s motivations for joining us are welcome, even if he’s a bit direct,” Duronaht joked, drawing some reserved laughter from his men. “Our other beloved angels have come to us for varied reasons. Parlon, because Ceuna’s vaults don’t carry his music as our world does. Jagreth, because he’d be separated from his great beasts. Myrvaness, because she seeks to teach us her lessons in war. Gorondos, because he was unjustly punished by Forynda. Do I care that their reasons for being with me aren’t the same? No!”

His ardent plea drew approving murmurs from his soldiers and officers and some of the angels, other than Elaous who seemed implacable.

“What matters, sons and brothers of these lands, is that we have a common purpose: freeing ourselves from Forynda’s ambivalence and cruelty. Why exactly they fight under this common banner is of no concern to me. I pray that it’s not any of yours, either. If Elaous pledges himself to defend us against Forynda’s retribution, he’s welcome to hold any view of me he wishes,” Duronaht laughed as he pointed toward the towering Guardian. This time his soldiers let out more earnest guffaws. “We’re not doing this for some vague ideal like our enemies are. Self-determination? What good is that when your health’s failing and your children are starving, or your village is destroyed by your enemies? We’re seeking an end to all of that and whosoever aids us in that goal, whether they agree with it or not, is a true friend of mine!”

Cheers roared from his men and they swiftly broke into chants praising his name. “Duronaht! Duronaht! Duronaht!” they screamed, each man of them trying to be heard over the others. The Emperor took satisfaction in seeing that each angel, even Elaous, showed themselves to be moved by his men’s earnest display of affection.

Later, though, in the privacy of a secluded grove with only the angels and his contingent of Solnahtern present, the mood had changed drastically to a dour one. Elaous had told them that Forynda’s destruction of Nethron undoubtedly meant that the High Angel’s wrath was soon to be loosed on the entirety of the world and all who opposed her would suffer for it.

“Her greatest ire will be for those of us who she feels betrayed her,” Elaous rumbled. “But the multitudes of mortals who have abandoned her edicts will also face her scourge. I would surmise that those who have sworn themselves to Nethron, if they do not repent, will be annihilated.”

Gorondos grumbled indistinctly, his eyes dimming somewhat.

“I cannot imagine being subjected to her imprisonment again,” he said.

Duronaht stepped forward with his hand raised, as if to protest.

“But surely she wouldn’t slaughter millions of my kind just to make a point,” he insisted. The awkward silence of the angels yielded all the information he needed. “No, that would be insane. What’s the point of resisting her then? You said that none of you can stand up to this Golden Aura of hers. We should we even bother if what you’re saying is true?”

At that, Omonrel glided forward, raising his hands to calm the other voices.

“Because, my Emperor, things are not so simple. Yes, as it stands now, fighting her directly would be foolish. What she did to Nethron she could repeat with all of us,” Omonrel said with a limp shrug, as though this fact completely disinterested him. “Even Forynda’s temper will cool, however. When she lashes out with her cruelty, she will push many away from her, millions of mortals and her brethren both. Eventually she will become so isolated from all of that we only need to wait for her to admit defeat and crawl back to Ceuna in shame. We only need survive her scourge to prevail.”

A certain shock fell over the other angels and Duronaht. What he suggesting was altogether beyond what the Emperor had ever considered.

“Do you mean to say that we’re waiting for her to slay thousands, millions even, until she alienates herself from…” Duronaht stopped as Omonrel’s icy gaze told him that this was absolutely what the Sculptor meant. “This is madness. Surely we must have some other…”

“I am afraid not. It is our only hope, a thin hope at that,” Omonrel conceded. “But you need not worry, my Emperor. I spoke to Simel some time ago when he began having what he believed to be glimpses of the future. At the time I rejected it as Simel simply being the fool that he often is, but much of what he told me has already happened. He foresaw a prolonged struggle lasting years, decades. Should he be correct, this means Forynda will not be able to simply brush us aside.”

Duronaht stood dumbfounded and he could see from the others that he was not the only one.

“But can we be certain of that?” he asked in exasperation.

“No, but what choice do we truly have?” Omonrel answered. "I have faith, however, that ours will not be a pointless struggle."

Duronaht glanced into the eyes of each of the other angels hovering around him and each communicated the same message of concurrence with Omonrel. That being the case, Duronaht weakly nodded and motioned for the Solnahtern to accompany him back to the fortress.

When I was much younger, I would’ve prayed for this all to resolve peacefully. I would’ve prayed to Forynda in Ceuna above. Now with my saviors telling me how feeble they all are, to whom do I turn?