A Throne Built On Lies

A Promotion. or a Death Sentence?

The discussion had already commenced when the Celestial Council chamber was full.

It was a wide, round room, made of pale stone, which almost shone in its own light. Chairs were stacked in layers in a center stage in which divine documents were projected slowly spinning around. The chamber was filled with gods--some standing, others seated, all gazing upon the center, as though an important decision were pending.

At the top was Eryndor Vale, God of Love. He looked serene, nearly placid. His hands were lightly placed on the armrests of his seat.

However he was not listening. He was waiting. Lysithea Vorn, Goddess of Knowledge, was standing in the middle of the room and raised her hand. The floating ledgers swung over to her.

Lysithea spoke clearly. “The confederacy of the borderland has made the forbidden curse known.”

There was a shudder through the room. A number of gods bent forward.

Next spoke Kaedros Halvek, God of War. “By who?”

Lysithea responded with alacrity. “Spellbreaker Caelion Vireth.”

The name was met with a visible response in the room. Nodding went some gods. Others looked uneasy. Kaedros frowned. This curse was unstable and was not accepted centuries ago even by the high-level enforcers.

“And yet did he alone complete it,” responded Lysithea.

There was a moment of silence. Then still another voice came in.

Selmira Noctis was the goddess of the Moon, and she tilted her head. “He ought to have reported straight away. No reply.”

One of the small deities of the inferior council talked with trembling lips. “He might still be calming down the consequences.”

Kaedros clenched his hands. “Or he’s dead.”

That remark caused the room to get tense.

Lysithea held up her hand. “There is a recommendation proposal from the administrative branch.”

A paper fell out of the sky. A number of the gods leaned over to read it. Eryndor remained motionless.

Lysithea went on, “because of the character of the curse which he removed, and the effect of the curse in history, the suggestion is to take Ascension into account.”

There was an explosion of noise in the room.

“What?”

“Ascension? Already?”

“That’s not standard procedure.”

Kaedros bent forward. Transitioning to the council level is not a reward, but rather a transformation that occurs to the council level transition candidate.

Lysithea responded calmly. It is also the prize only known which measures up to the proportion of his accomplishment.

Selmira’s voice lowered. Ascension: perfect divine knowledge.

“Yes,” Lysithea confirmed.

The room fell on silence. That fact turned it all around. One of the elder gods talked wary. Complete knowledge contains limited records.

Lysithea nodded. “Yes.”

Another deity complained, “That contains closed histories.”

“Yes,” she repeated.

Kaedros turned slightly. “Then would he know all.”

Lysithea made no denial.

“Yes.”

That one word, so settled down on the room. All the gods knew what that was. Ascension did not elevate someone. It eliminated any restriction on divine truth. there would be nothing concealed.

Selmira narrowed his eyes a bit. “And he is still unaccounted for?”

The answer to this was given by Lysithea, who said, “We suppose he is alive, and is doing post-seal stabilization.”

Kaedros exhaled sharply. “Convenient timing.”

It was not a remark addressed to anybody, in particular--yet a few of the gods peered about. Eryndor still hadn’t spoken. Not once. Not even at the time of the naming of Caelion.

“Not final,” Lysithea said as she went on. “It has to pass the council.”

Kaedros leaned back. “I reject it.”

Selmira replied to him. “I abstain. I need more data on his condition.”

Gods started responding one after another. Some supportive. Some uncertain. Some outright rejecting it. All the while, Eryndor remained silent.

Lysithea turned a little after all. “Eryndor Vale. I have not registered your vote.”

Everybody turned their eyes on him.

Eryndor was moving now, for the first time. He raised his head slowly. He looked cool. Too calm.

“I do not object,” He said.

The room changed once more. Such an answer shocked a number of gods.

Kaedros squint. “You’re supporting Ascension?”

Eryndor nodded once. “It is the hope of every father that his son obtain elevation.”

Lysithea gazed after him. “Noted.”

The room proceeded but the mood was different. The vote continued. Eryndor made no more. Not once. Not when when it came to risk. Not when objections were made. Not when consequences of Ascension were re-explained.

Hours later the chamber was emptied. The rest of the gods scattered, their counselling dying away down the halls. Eryndor did not go away at once. He waited till the hall was empty.

Thence he walked away, down an inner walk behind the council chamber. His steps were slow.

When he reached his private archive room, he closed the door behind him.

Eryndor held up his hand.

There was a shard of record that sprang up. Light created before him, throwing fragmented files of archives of old.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply read. Then he found it. A closed entry bearing Ascension Protocols. Drawing the record nearer, Eryndor narrowed his eyes a little.

He read the contents. Slowly. Then again. The information confirmed it clearly. Ascension did not simply grant power. It removed all restrictions on divine knowledge. Every sealed truth. Every erased history. Every concealed identity. Everything. Eryndor’s expression did not change at first.

Then it did. A small shift. Barely noticeable. Pride—briefly. Followed immediately by something sharper.

Fear.

His hand was brought down a little. His control tightened and caused the projection to flicker. Had Caelion risen up he would have known all. Not only concerning the council. Not only with regard to the curse. Not only regarding the underworld.

Caelion would be informed about his life. His real origins and the truth.

Eryndor hesitated a long time. “Then he cannot be allowed to ascend.”