Erend stepped a little closer, keeping his voice low but steady as the storm inside the cocoon writhed like a restless tide.

"Thar'Zul-Vekar… can you ask him about who did this to him?"

He wanted to ask next if this storm god could explain more about Zerathul's nature. So that they have a better understanding of him.

The Forest God didn't turn their head, but their eyes softened just slightly.

"I will try," they said. "But his essence is scattered. Speaking to a fractured spirit requires delicate grounding."

They closed their eyes and inhaled, letting the bioluminescent veins along their body brighten. The vines wrapped around their wrists tightened then loosened, then tightened again, breathing with them.

A deeper vibration pulsed through the chamber.

Thar'Zul-Vekar began their work.

The air thickened with resonance, as if someone dipped the entire chamber into a pool of living Magic of the forest. Roots slid farther up from the ground, leaning toward the god like obedient creatures.

They focused entirely. Their fingertips glowed with concentrated green light as they pressed deeper into the crack of the cocoon, reaching for the scattered consciousness trapped inside.

Minutes stretched.

The tension in the room grew tighter with every passing second.

Adrius and Lysander kept their distance. Their instincts screamed to keep analyzing the runes, fixing the seal, or reinforcing the chamber. But they dared not interrupt the Forest God's communion.

Lysander swallowed hard. "I've never seen a spell like that…"

Adrius shook his head. "It's not a spell. That's… a connection."

They both fell silent again.

Aesa watched from the corner of the chamber with her arms crossed and her back against a stone pillar. Frost coiled lazily around her fingertips, melting just as quickly from the heat in the air.

Her blue-silver eyes stayed fixed on Thar'Zul-Vekar, but her mind wasn't entirely here.

She exhaled sharply, jaw tense.

She kept thinking.

"Should I tell them? Should I say something… now?"

The churning inside her chest refused to calm. The sight of this tortured storm being, the fragments of a god scattered and controlled by someone unseen. Something about it dug up old memories she wished had stayed buried.

"If what I fear is true, they need to know."

But her throat tightened at the thought of saying it out loud and admitting it.

She would reopen the wounds she had sealed shut centuries ago.

So she stayed where she was, arms crossed, leaning into the cold she generated to steady her breath. The frost on her fingers shimmered, then cracked apart.

But her eyes never left the cocoon.

Thar'Zul-Vekar's breath grew ragged as they leaned closer to the cocoon. The chamber trembled softly around them.

The veins of green light running through their body flickered, then suddenly flared bright, then dimmed as if something on the other side was fighting them with equal force.

Twisting roots creaked under the pressure. The air grew colder and hotter in pulses, like two opposing natures wrestling inside the sealed storm.

A low, grinding sound escaped the cocoon.

Thar'Zul-Vekar's fingers tightened. Their jaw clenched.

They were straining to reach the fractured mind within.

A ripple of light shot through the cocoon, then a crackle of dark storm Magic answered violently. The Forest God inhaled sharply through their teeth.

"I hear him…" they murmured.

Everyone in the room froze and paid more attention.

Thar'Zul-Vekar's voice deepened. Half of the voices were theirs but half of it was something echoing far away, broken and carried by thunder. Somehow, their voices were mixed together with the storm god's voice.

"He speaks of… the Gravebringer."

The temperature of the room plunged.

Even the storm inside the cocoon trembled at the name as the storm god was fearing him.

Thar'Zul-Vekar continued. Their eyes glowing brighter until the pupils vanished entirely.

"A being of necromancy so ancient, so absolute… that he can raise even the old gods from death. Twist them. Bind them. Shackle them into servitude."

The glow in their eyes flickered violently, as if the storm-being's fear shoved its way through the connection.

"He says the Gravebringer has come and he is awakening the forgotten powers of the ancient gods, forcing them back into the world."

A harsh breath escaped the Forest God and they pulled their hand back from the cocoon, staggering slightly. The roots supporting them shook.

"So he really was forced awake by him," Erend muttered.

Erend stepped closer again, the faint glow of storm-light reflecting in his eyes as he looked at Thar'Zul-Vekar.

The Forest God was breathing hard and even the vines supporting their elbows trembled under the weight of their exhaustion.

But Erend couldn't stop now. They needed answers.

"Thar'Zul-Vekar," he said quietly, "can you ask him to describe Zerathul's power? Anything he can give us. Anything at all. If we're going to defeat him we need to understand what we're facing."

The Forest God lifted their head slightly. Their face looked almost gaunt, their glow dimmer than before.

"I will… try," they murmured. Even their voice sounded thinner, stretched.

Aesa leaned forward. "You're draining yourself."

Thar'Zul-Vekar gave no reply. They returned their hand to the cocoon, even though their fingers shook.

The roots that wrapped around their arm tightened in concern, but the god forced them to loosen again.

Erend hesitated.

He knew he was asking too much. But he also knew they had no other chance.

"Please," he said, quieter than before. "We need this."

The Forest God nodded once.

The light in their veins brightened, then flickered dangerously as if on the verge of extinguishing. They pressed deeper into the crack of the cocoon.

The storm reacted violently.

Thar'Zul-Vekar's breath ragged. Their shoulders locked, and slowly they began channeling the storm god's fractured voice again.

"He shows… what Zerathul he saw was."

The god continued.

"He commands storms of death. Not wind or rain… but the echo of the fallen, those that died in ancient wars. Their remnants obey him."

A harsh bolt cracked inside the cocoon.

"His Magic is no longer bound to elements. It is bound to death and necromancy. Every strike he unleashes carries the weight of a world that has already fallen."

The green glow around Thar'Zul-Vekar sputtered. They swayed.

But the storm voice forced its way onward.

"He devours the remnants of dying gods. Consumes their echoes. And grows stronger with each fragment he takes."

Erend's blood ran cold.

"And when he awakens the ancient gods, he does not revive them. He puppets them and he fills them with his will."

The chamber dimmed as if the air itself recoiled.

Thar'Zul-Vekar gasped, their knees buckling. A surge of roots erupted from the ground to catch them before they collapsed.

The sealed god pushed one last message through them:

"He carries a terrifying hunger and has the ambition to envelope whole worlds with his power."

Then the connection violently snapped.

—