[b]Summit of Hevas, Realm of the Gods
Nasan Ascent[/b]

The final stretch of pathway leading up to Lake Miphas and the True Realm of the gods lay directly adjacent to the downward flowing stream that was but one part of the great Nasan Waterfall. Though night and darkness were cast upon the path like a pall, eternal dawn sprung from the horizon at the zenith of the staircase.

There, the Eternal Serpent Ouroboros rested its massive head, scales shimmering like pearl and opal in the sunlight. Standing as the last obstacle to any mortal that might attempt to achieve Apotheosis, the great serpent did not block the path to Lake Miphas and only bestrode the sacred road leading to the first of that body's many bridges. The challenge was not in overcoming the gargantuan creature, but in resisting its temptations. For the Eternal Serpent was no mere Leviathan adorning the crown of the world, but was the essence of the slain god Svanus, whose body the serpent had shed as a molt. Within its cavernous length lay the corridors and stacks of The House of Books, and All Knowledge dwelt therein.

Its traditional location also made The House of Books the single most-visited upon locale in the realm of the Gods, both by divine personages and their servants alike. Even should they merely pass by up or down the Nasan Path, always did they pass before the eyes of Ouroboros.

Within the belly of the Great Serpent, the Goddess Dihira breathed a ponderous and heavy breath laden with wariness of that very fact. For though noble and just in her own way, the Dark Librarian had many enemies, now more than ever. As those exiled from Hevas to Sharzunates. climbed the Nasan pathway to once again rejoin Miphas, the first domain of the true gods they would come across would be hers, Dihira's, goddess of knowledge, mother of serpents. She who had helped the Mad God King Aroesus to banish many of them in the first place. That she has subsequently contributed to his upbraiding and downfall was of little consequence in the shadow of her ill repute.

Though heavy with wariness as she was, the Goddess Dihira did not stray from her purpose and intent. Aroesus was dead, as was intended. The veracity of the matter could no longer be withheld, and thus Dihira spoke:

[i]~Servitors and Children, attend to me, for the time has come once again to disseminate the Anthologies of all Divine Affairs to Mortal Minds and Mortal Hands. The God King is slain at long last, and as all the world and its bodies tremble at his passage, so too will its minds know the measure of his absence.~[/i]

She swept across the tiled ammolite Foyer of the House of Books, cavernous stacks and ribs of bone and book looming in endless, spiraling fractals akin to a gaping chasm in her wake. She settled at the desk of the Librarian at the foremost of that place, making no effort to hide her presence within. Though many might come to chastise her, this was her domain, and the Mother of Serpents was possessed of both draconic might and surety of place. If there was to be a conflict, she would meet all comers in battle...but only on her own terms.

As she seated herself she gestured errantly. Several floating paper lamps descended from the darkness of the ceiling, like stars, to illuminate her works. From the shadows, coiling forms of feathered scales sidewinded into the penumbra of light as the Serpentine followers of the Goddess basked in the light and warmth of her knowledge. They stood still and rapt, ready to take in her revelations that might be passed onto the mortal world.

Dihira produced a Crow-feather quill as a viper slid out from the folds of her sleeve, and gently sunk its fangs into the bare of her forearm. Divine ichor, empyrean is its luminescence and splendor, dribbled from Dihira's arm and into her inkpot. She dipped the quill therein, and with the very essence of divinity itself, wrote of the Death of Aroesus, speaking aloud for the benefit of nearby transcribers and listeners alike.

[i]~At the waning of the second age of Divinity, Aroesus, whose father was Ventu, King of the Gods and Final Arbiter of Krona, was slain.

~He was slain by the hands of many, among them was...[/i] Dihira proceeded to list every single God and Goddess who had partipated in the upbraiding of Aroesus with their daggers, falling upon his prone and naked form mercilessly.

[i]~...though were it not for his vulnerability at the hands of treachery, Aroesus may well have overwhelmed his assailants and their arms. Though mighty, he had been lain low through his copulation with the corpse of Lyrikes, whose body has been corrupted by a great poison fashioned by Odysus, God of Fugue. The essence of the poison was derived from the fangs of the Eternal Serpent Ouroboros, milked by Dihira, Goddess of Knowledge, for the very purpose of weakening Aroesus and laying him low.~[/i]

Dihira's eyes and brow neither flickered nor wavered as she invoked her own complicity in the downfall of Aroesus.

[i]~Though much of the Heavens and the Body of Lymaeus trembled and burnt at his passing, the Gods and Goddess and servants and peoples and beings of all of Hevas and of all of the Sharzunates celebrated in joy at the downfall of his great and terrible madness. Thus it was decreed, 'Let forever this day be marked as one of celebration and levity, for though the Aether itself weeps at the death of the Divine, a great Evil has passed from this world, and the fires of change shall bestir the waxing of greater times in the dawn of the Third Age.~[/i]

And thus, Dihira's Feathered Servitors flew. They slithered down the halls of the House of Books, and through its twisted geometries found their ways into the realm of Mortal kind. Unseen, they stalked amongst the brilliant and the mad alike, sowing divine inspiration through quarrels from their Epiphianc bows.

And so even as Caesilinus burned, its Great Library, one of the few structures to remain untouched and unblemished by the flames, was filled with a surety of purpose. Transcribers and Archivists, taken ahold of by abrupt levies of clarity, began to rush to and fro between the shelves to uncover ancedotal information and passages as word of the accounts of the gods took root in their minds. Not even in that library alone did they strive, but across all the world, in quiet forlorn studies and in the palaces of kings, in the corners of taverns and in the towers of the learned mages.

Not only was Aroesus dead, but the day of his death had just been declared a Holy Day of celebration and joy.

High upon the foyer of the House of Books, the flow of ichor from Dihira's forearm ceased as the viper withdrew its fangs, and she rose from her desk. Her eyes were calm in their set and shape, though a rancorous gleam raged therein.

[i]~Oh servants of mine, our work is not done. Fly now and go, go to the palace of Krona, and take the measure of the Dowager Queen of the Gods and my mother, Mysia. Fly and find her form, and stand ready in waiting as you follow her. Soon, her heartless essence will join that of her husband's, in oblivion.~[/i]