"Is that true? Did Hag really abandon us?"

Luke’s voice was sharped as he stared at me, his eyes sharp as daggers. I shied away, my fingers clawing into my skirt, feeling the eyes of the entire council gather on me. Bethiv, Incindurus, and other officers of the Fatesworn watched me, wearing frowns and scowls. Luke alone represented the horde, though only because he was the only demon lord or apostle to remain with us.

"I, um...yes. Her horde abandoned their target and left the fortress untouched. She and Jessia–"

"Jessia was there too?" Luke groaned, pressing a hand to his horn. "Of course she was."

"It reminded me of a place I saw in a vision once, where some clergy mentioned a strange demon force mustering on the southern continent. I didn’t really know what to make of it. That was when the World Barrier still stood," I explained.

"I can’t see it being anyone other than Rash’Alon," Fyren said, folding his arms.

"Yes, that makes sense. Do you have any idea where?" Luke asked.

I opened my mouth, hesitated, then shook my head. "I don’t remember. Somewhere near Radia, though."

"Then we can expect to encounter foul play at some point. The only question is how," Fyren responded.

"I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Jessia’s involved, after all," Luke said.

"But if she’s working with Rash’alon, wouldn’t that make her a traitor?" Korra asked.

"I’ve known Jessia too long for that. She might have her own purposes, but I can’t imagine her betraying me."

"Why don’t you just kill Hag and be done with it?" Incinderus asked.

Luke shook his head. "It’s too late. Something’s blocking access to my mark on her soul."

"That shouldn’t be possible." Incinderus leaned forward, studying the apostle. "Once a mark is received, nothing but the demon’s death can remove or interfere with it. Unless...Lord of Ash?"

Fyren’s frown deepened. "There should be no method a curse demon lord has access to."

"That’s not a no," Incinderus said.

"No, it isn’t."

I looked at Fyren sharply, a small twitch seizing my tail. Removing marks? My hand curled against my chest, against the pulse of the Primordial Mark. Was there a chance I could lose them, too?

"Um, Fyren?" My voice trembled slightly as he looked down at me, expressionless. "Is it possible for, um, you know..."

His face softened a touch. "You needn’t worry for the Fatesworn, Oracle. But you should be able to figure that out for yourself."

I nodded, clasping my hand in my lap. It was only natural that Primordial Marks could be broken, too. After all, every demon had once been bound to the original Emperors, but they were now free to mark and be marked as they wished. I didn’t like that idea at all, but then again, I didn’t think I could live with the idea of binding so many souls to my own if they couldn’t be free. I would be no different than the ones who’d carved a crest on my chest.

"So what’s our next move?" Korra asked. "The church has sealed the space around their shards, so we won’t be able to teleport in like we planned."

All eyes turned back to the illusory map rising from the central table. It portrayed the central lands of the southern continent, with Roann and the Divine Throne at its center. Luke leaned forward, gesturing at the mini ridges of a mountain range a few days’ travel south of our current position.

"This fortress here," he said, pointing at a glowing dot representing a city. "Amberhold. It guards the only pass big enough for an army through the mountains of Northern Radia. If we take it, we secure a foothold in the kingdom."

"That won’t be easy. If there’s only one entrance, it means they’ll have every available path stationed," Bethiv said, stroking his chin.

"Not every," Luke said, swiping his hand across the map. It blurred, repositioning with the center on the western border. "Constance and Firemane have armies here and here," he said, pointing. "It’ll take some time, but they, and eventually the rest of my forces, will converge on Radia.

"That won’t change much for us, though. We’re on the straightest path to their capital, and will arrive well before the other hordes even cross the border," Bethiv said. "We should expect to face multiple heroes and divine coalition forces. The other kingdoms might be in disarray right now, but there are millions of soldiers and partisans on the continent. They’ll rally soon enough, strengthening our enemy and further slowing our reinforcements."

"Then we’ll burn our way through," Incidnerus said. "Our strength has grown to the point that the heroes no longer worry me. It’s the chance they have the resources to call another arbiter, or worse, perform a descent."

"Descent?" I tilted my head, looking at him. "What’s that?"

Incidnerus glanced at Zephyriss, who’d was bobbing in the air behind him, a bored look on her face. At my question, however, she shivered, landing and coming to his side.

"I died to one, once," she said, her wings crackling at the memory. "Like we demon lords and arbiters, gods and emperors, too, can send avatars to visit mortal worlds. But unlike us, they are beings of pure, overwhelming power. Their forms usually require a mortal host, often a sacrifice. Yet even that isn’t enough to tether all of their power. They can’t remain in this realm long, but that only gives them more incentive to unleash their power. I was a young demon lord when I faced the descent of a god of life. I didn’t even last a minute against it."

"That strong?" I gasped, covering my mouth. "But that’s...that can’t be easy."

"No, it’s not," Fyren muttered darkly.

Incinderus shot him a curious look, but the Fire Demon didn’t iterate. The Demon lord cleared his throat in a puff of cinders. "They require an enormous amount of mana both in the summoning and duration. Thousands of mages can be permanently crippled by the strain, or at the very least, completely helpless until it finally departs. The host can’t be anyone either, but a mortal with a powerful body and sturdy soul. usually eighth level or higher."

"Faith." Fate’s voice sounded behind us. "A descent also requires an exorbitant amount of faith."

I turned, brightening at just the warm, motherly tone before I even saw her. My chair clattered as I stood sharply, embracing her. She chuckled, patting my head, her other hand pressing against my shoulder blade.

"It’s good to see you, too, little one," she murmured.

"What kind of faith do you mean, goddess?" Bethiv asked, lowering his head respectfully.

Fate looked over my head, studying the room before answering. "Gods’ power comes from the faith of mortals and the prosperity of their worlds. That faith is stored within their souls, a counterpart to the infernal mana all demons must constantly assimilate. All divine feats require that stored power, whether it be granting mortals magic, calling a hero, or performing a Descent. A deity must consider carefully whether the risk is worth the cost, for losing too much can greatly affect their ability to gain and keep followers."

"Thank you for your wisdom, goddess," Incinderus said.

The other Fatesworn around the room all nodded in agreement. Many trembled slightly, their gazes fixed reverently on the goddess. As she looked around, they ducked their heads, feeling the weight of her gaze. Many of them hadn’t seen her except at a distance, if at all. Even seeing her stroke my hair, as if she were comforting a little girl, didn’t diminish their wonder.

"If the cost is so great, there can’t be many gods who would be willing to descend right now," Fyren said.

"Indeed," Fate said. "The acquisition of new worlds, and thus followers, has been reduced to zero since the war began here. And now, with th e beginnings of rebellion stirring amongst their own ranks, only the most desperate would even consider it."

"What is this rebellion you speak of?" Incinderus asked, his eye flashing.

Fate smiled softly, patting me once more before letting me go. I felt a touch of regret, but lowered my head to her and returned to my seat. She stood straight, filled with grace and dignity. When she spoke, her words were strong and formal, bearing the majesty befitting a goddess.

"Your sacrifices have not been in vain. With the ceasing of Darkreign Keep and the consequent destruction of the World Barrier, the mouth of the God of Magic has spoken and declared our oath fulfilled. "

"Really?" I covered my mouth, blushing at my outburst.

Fate offered me a small smile, losing some of her poise. "Yes, really. Time among the Divine Realms is different than in mortal worlds, but soon, he will take our position before the Divine Council. At that time, there will be no turning back. War is coming to the immortals, just as it has to mortals. A schism not seen since the Beginning, when god turned against the emperor, and the demon, the arbiter."

"Then one of them might be desperate enough to descend," Bethiv said, staring hard at the map. "We need to move quickly."

"I would like more time to strategize," Luke murmured, recentering the map on Amberhold City. "But that’s not a luxury we have."

"Fear not, apostle. While you are forced to return to your horde in Ensuia, we will continue to prepare for the assault here," Incinderus said.

Zephyriss nodded in agreement. "With the storm hero defeated, my demons have control of the skies from here to the mountains. We’ll have the information we need before we arrive."

"One week," Luke said, looking up, his expression firming. "One week until we arrive."

"So soon?" I asked quietly. It had taken months for Soltair, Trithe, and me to traverse the kingdom in our first journey. We hadn’t made it as far as Amberhold before we were called to Brithlite.

"We’ll be prepared, my Lady," Bethiv said. "And on that note, if you’d remain after we adjourn. Our time in Darkreign hasn’t been wasted. There are a few things I think you’d like to see."