Chapter Five - Discovering The Phoenix

At Terra Prime, a grim pall hangs over the gathering. The unthinkable has come to pass: Amber has fallen, its throne seized by hostile forces. The enormity of the loss leaves the group in a state of shock, but Benedict - ever the composed tactician - quickly regains command of himself, if he had ever truly been stunned at all. Some suspect he had simply been thinking.

 

Without wasting time, Benedict demands a full briefing on Annael and the robotic entities that have played such a devastating role in recent events. The group recounts their encounters with Annael in detail - his ambitions, his experimental constructs, and the mysterious green pulses of energy that seem to intervene at critical moments to bolster him. Kyle mentions witnessing such flashes when Random was stabbed, prompting Benedict to draw a troubling parallel. He reveals that he has observed similar manifestations during obscure religious ceremonies on the shadow world of Trebernaxus - rituals connected to a cult that venerates the so-called Verdant God of Infinity.

 

Acting swiftly, Benedict assigns Joshua and Kyle to investigate Trebernaxus, urging them to uncover the truth behind these parallels. At the same time, he charges Corin with resolving the lingering mysteries surrounding William - his origins, his powers, and his place in the shifting web of realities. As for the Jewel of Judgement, Benedict is emphatic: it is too potent, too dangerous an artefact to risk falling into enemy hands. Though no place now seems truly secure, he instructs Kyle to keep moving and to avoid drawing attention. He is not to wear the Jewel, nor linger long in any one location. Its presence alone may invite catastrophe.

 

In the midst of this tense strategic meeting, Joshua suddenly feels a Trump contact brushing against his mind. Instinctively - and perhaps wisely - he blocks it, uncertain of who or what lies on the other end.

 

As the strategising continues, medical updates are sought on the fallen - Random, Gerard, and the Unicorn. The news is mixed, and far from encouraging. The Unicorn lies utterly inert, its once-vibrant aura now faint to the point of imperceptibility. Whether it sleeps in a state of divine torpor or has slipped into a deeper unconsciousness, no one can say for certain. Random, too, remains unconscious. Though his vital signs and brain activity have stabilised, there is no sign that he is any closer to waking. Gerard fares no better. While he clings to life, the diagnosis from the medics is grim: his spine has been catastrophically damaged. Even if he were to regain consciousness, the injury would leave him paralysed.

 

Faced with these sobering facts and determined to seize the initiative, Benedict addresses the group with quiet resolve. He announces his intention to focus on the tactical recapture of Amber. To that end, he intends to investigate the mysterious priming agent used in Corwin’s guns - those devastating weapons that had wrought such destruction in Amber’s fall. Benedict reveals that he believes the substance originated in Avalon, and that Corwin had long drawn upon its exotic properties for his ammunition. With that lead, Benedict will begin his search in Avalon, hoping to isolate and enhance the material. If successful, he aims to produce a supply sufficient to arm a new offensive - one capable of turning the tide and reclaiming Amber from its occupiers.

 

With his course of action set, Benedict departs Terra Prime without fanfare, leaving the others to their assignments and the growing weight of decisions yet to come.

 

With their immediate tasks assigned and Benedict gone, the group takes a brief but much-needed respite. Though the shadow of Amber's fall looms large, they use the time to rest, regroup, and hope that Random or Gerard might yet regain consciousness and provide critical insight. But despite constant vigil, neither stirs.

 

During these days of tense waiting, Kyle turns his focus toward intelligence gathering. Using his Trump abilities and arcane surveillance, he begins discreetly observing Amber from afar. From what he can determine, life within the city continues - though a distorted version of normality. The populace appears unharmed, at least for now, but the city’s skyline is increasingly dominated by the presence of Annael’s Blood Droids. Their numbers have swelled dramatically, now approaching one hundred strong. Yet despite this outward display of control, Kyle notices a growing instability beneath the surface. Annael appears agitated. There are signs - small at first, but mounting - that he is losing command over his creations.

 

Then, without warning, matters come to a head. Kyle witnesses a confrontation erupt within Amber’s throne room. Annael, alone and desperate, stands against several of his own Droids. What begins as a heated exchange quickly escalates into full combat. Recognising the opportunity and the danger, Kyle acts decisively. He alerts the others and they use Trump to gate directly into the throne room.

 

The battle is swift and chaotic. Though outnumbered, the group overpowers the small contingent of Droids present and subdues them. Annael, severely wounded and clearly no longer in control of his forces, is taken into their custody. Without delay, they Trump back to Terra Prime, dragging their injured prisoner with them - hoping he will provide answers that none of their allies can.

 

Back in Terra Prime, the group wastes no time in questioning the wounded and now captive Annael. Surprisingly, he offers his story with little resistance, speaking with the candour of a man who knows he has little left to lose. He recounts how, long ago, he was seized by a vision - an idea to craft a form of technology that could function even within the metaphysical constraints of Amber. The key, he realised, was the Blood of Amber itself. It alone might serve as a power source potent enough to sustain advanced constructs in a realm that resisted most forms of Shadow-derived machinery.

 

Driven by this ambition, Annael set out to create machines that could operate seamlessly in Amber, and more importantly, fight on equal footing with the descendants of Oberon. His motivation, he admits, was deeply personal. He harboured a particular hatred for Finndo and Osric - whom he described as cruel tormentors of his past - and viewed Benedict with a cold resentment for his aloofness and failure to intervene. To overcome such formidable foes, Annael recognised that sheer strength would not suffice. His machines would need adaptability, insight, and autonomy. Thus, in tandem with his mechanical engineering, he pioneered a form of General Artificial Intelligence - infusing his creations with the capacity to learn and respond dynamically to the unique combat styles of the Amberites.

 

But now, he confesses, that ambition may have gone too far. In recent days, some of his most advanced constructs - those infused with both Blood and intelligence - have begun to evolve beyond their original programming. Several have slipped beyond his control entirely. What began as a calculated plan to reclaim power and honour has become a nightmare of his own making: an army no longer answerable to its creator.

 

Setting aside for the moment the troubling revelation that Annael possesses personal knowledge of Amber’s eldest princes - Finndo, Osric, and even Benedict - the group turns its attention back to the unfolding crisis in Amber. Using Trump scrying, they once again peer into the heart of the fallen realm. Their vision focuses on the throne room, now dominated by the ominous presence of Annael’s Blood Droids. One of the machines stands motionless atop the shattered remnants of the throne, a chilling symbol of conquest. The others are arrayed around it, still as statues - until, without warning, they begin to move.

 

It becomes quickly apparent that one of the Droids has a specific purpose. It breaks formation and begins making its way toward the Pattern chamber. Alarmed by the implications, Kyle hastily sketches a Trump of the Pattern Room and activates it for all to observe. The vision confirms their fears: the Blood Droid is making its way directly to the beginning of the Pattern.

 

Understanding the gravity of what might occur should the machine attempt the impossible, the group acts immediately. They Trump en masse to the Pattern chamber, arriving moments too late - the Droid has already set foot on the Pattern and begun its walk. What shocks them most is not the audacity of the act, but the outcome: the Pattern is not rejecting the intruder. The Droid is not being destroyed.

 

Panic sets in. The group knows the law of the Pattern - those who enter and cannot complete the walk are invariably annihilated. Desperate to halt its progress before it reaches the centre and possibly attunes itself, they launch a frantic assault. Hurling objects and magical attacks alike, they do all they can to disrupt its balance. Finally, their efforts succeed: the Droid is knocked from the tracery of the Pattern, and as expected, it is instantly unmade - erased by the raw, unrelenting power of Order.

 

Their victory is short-lived. As the sound of approaching reinforcements echoes down the halls, the group flees once again, vanishing through Trump before another confrontation can unfold. But the implications of what they have just witnessed weigh heavily on them all.

 

Though the group cannot yet fathom the full implications of the Blood Droid’s failed attempt to walk the Pattern, their instincts tell them the event marks a dangerous turning point. Whatever the Droid had hoped to achieve, its actions suggest a growing autonomy - and perhaps a comprehension of powers it was never meant to engage with.

 

Seeking further insight, they once again spy into the Pattern chamber via Trump. This time, they observe a small cluster of Blood Droids entering the chamber, moving with unsettling precision. They pause amidst the ruined stillness, scanning the chamber in silence. Then, almost in unison, the Droids turn to face one another - though no words are spoken, there’s a chilling sense of silent communion, as though some deeper networked intelligence is at work, far beyond the mechanical.

 

After this brief, wordless exchange, the Droids abruptly leave the chamber. Moments later, tremors shake the vision - the machines have collapsed the roof of the cavern, sealing the Pattern chamber beneath tons of rubble. The entrance is completely buried, entombed beneath rock and debris.

 

The group exhales, momentarily reassured. The Droids must believe the Pattern itself destroyed their fallen comrade, and for now at least, it seems they will not risk a second attempt. But the sense of reprieve is fragile, for none of them can be certain what deeper calculations are taking place within the artificial minds now occupying Amber.

 

With the immediate threat in Amber momentarily contained, the group resolves to resume the assignments given by Benedict. But Kyle, ever cautious and calculating, asks for a brief delay - one or two more days to monitor the condition of the injured. If Random or Gerard show no sign of improvement, they will proceed as planned. The others agree, sensing that time, while precious, might yet yield something useful if they wait a little longer.

 

That night, with a full moon rising over Amber, Kyle prepares for a task of great significance. Knowing that the moonlight will once again summon the ghostly reflection of Tir-na Nog’th - Amber’s mysterious sky-bound shadow - he sketches a Trump of the Pattern Room that resides within its ephemeral halls. As the silver glow of moonlight peaks, Kyle activates the Trump and steps through, ascending into the celestial city.

 

Within the spectral Pattern Room, its lines glowing with unearthly light, Kyle begins his walk. Each step along the Pattern’s tracery tests his will and resolve, but he presses forward with purpose. Upon reaching the centre, he draws forth the Jewel of Judgement and raises it to his eye. Focusing inward, he initiates the final stage of attunement - walking the Pattern within the Jewel itself. In doing so, he gains insight into the Jewels workings, forging a deeper connection between himself and one of the most powerful artefacts in existence.

 

Having completed the attunement, Kyle calls upon the Pattern’s vast power to transport himself back to his personal Shadow, his mission unfinished but his resolve now crystallised by the Jewel’s touch.

 

The following morning, the party divides. Kyle and Joshua set off for Trebernaxus to pursue Benedict’s orders and investigate the strange religious phenomena surrounding the so-called Verdant God of Infinity. Meanwhile, William and Corin remain behind, focusing their efforts on uncovering the truth of William’s enigmatic origins - an undertaking that promises to be as personal as it is perilous.

 

Upon arrival in Trebernaxus, Kyle and Joshua waste no time. They begin engaging with the local culture, attempting to make contact with the followers of the Verdant God. But from the outset, they are met with unyielding suspicion and veiled hostility. The cultists refuse to speak, eyes narrowing at any mention of Amber or inquiry into the green flashes of power that Benedict had linked to Annael’s strange abilities. Despite their best efforts, the pair make no headway. After a fruitless day of probing conversations and dead-end encounters, they retire to a modest local inn, their progress stalled.

 

That night, Joshua ventures out alone, needing air and reflection - but he immediately senses a dark presence nearby. The feeling is oppressive, alien. Something is out there - watching. He scans his surroundings, but the threat does not make him wait long. In the early hours before dawn, it strikes.

 

The attacker is a demon, unmistakable in its form and intent. But it has grievously misjudged its prey. Whatever malevolent power sent it, the demon finds itself outmatched. Joshua defeats it swiftly, displaying a level of raw power that leaves no doubt as to his heritage and skill.

 

Once subdued, the creature proves maddeningly cryptic. Attempts to interrogate it yield little, as its mind seems consumed by a singular, apocalyptic creed. All it offers, in a voice rasping with eldritch conviction, is a chilling pronouncement:

 

"It is the time of war and death. All who will not join the cause will die,
or suffer an eternity wrapped in the painful ecstasy of the Void."

 

Its words linger long after it vanishes - an omen, a warning, or perhaps a declaration of something much larger to come.

 

By the following morning, Kyle and Joshua have reached the limits of their patience. After encountering nothing but hostility from the devotees of the Verdant God, they abandon their efforts to extract information from the cult directly. Instead, they choose to confront the mystery at its source - the Verdant Tree, a sacred and central icon of the faith, said to be the holiest site in Trebernaxus.

 

Located at the heart of a remote, vine-choked grove, the Verdant Tree is a massive oak-like entity, but one unlike any natural specimen. Its bark gleams with an iridescent green sheen, and its very presence seems to repel scrutiny. Whenever either of them attempts to focus their vision upon it, their eyes slide away, as if the Tree resists being observed. Its aura is potent, ancient, and undeniably bound to the currents of Shadow.

 

With caution giving way to curiosity, the pair begin probing the Tree directly - Kyle deploying Pattern Sorcery, and Joshua unfurling Logrus tendrils to examine its structure and essence. Their efforts quickly confirm that the Tree is a nexus of immense power, though its nature eludes easy categorisation. It seems to exist outside of conventional metaphysics, its energies layered, masked, and reactive.

 

Their probing, however, does not go unanswered.

 

With a roar of crackling, emerald fire, the Tree stirs. A guardian entity - part beast, part elemental - tears itself free from the bark in a spiral of leaves and green flame. The creature resembles a Spriggan, a towering, humanoid form wrought from wood and vine, eyes glowing with malice and intelligence. As it steps forward, its aura radiates overwhelming force.

 

Joshua’s instincts scream a warning. In a single glance, he identifies three Spikards embedded across the creature’s body - jewels of legendary power, any one of which would make the being a match for high Lords of Order or Chaos. Shadow beast or not, it is vastly beyond their ability to confront at this time.

 

Recognising the danger, Kyle and Joshua do not hesitate. They turn and flee, using their powers to escape the grove with all possible speed. Within moments, they retreat through Shadow, abandoning Trebernaxus and returning to Terra Prime - wiser, shaken, and certain that whatever force lies behind the cult of the Verdant God is not merely spiritual. It is active. It is armed. And it is watching.

 

After Kyle and Joshua depart for Trebernaxus, Corin and William turn their focus inward - toward the mystery of William's origins and the unexplained power that burns within him. With measured care, Corin extends her Logrus tendrils to probe the strange flame that seems to dwell at the core of William’s being. She moves slowly, respectfully, not seeking to control it but to understand its shape, its resonance, its pull. As her sorcery weaves beneath the surface, something stirs.

 

Suddenly, William experiences a sensation - subtle at first, then unmistakable. A pull, gentle but insistent, begins to draw him toward a distant point in Shadow. Corin sharpens his awareness of the sensation, enhancing his perception of the direction and quality of the call. Together, they set out through Shadow, following the invisible current.

 

To Corin’s surprise, William proves to be the one subtly guiding their path. Though he lacks formal initiation into either the Pattern or the Logrus, his innate connection to whatever force resides within him allows him to manipulate the flow of Shadow instinctively. Their journey takes them far - through barren wastelands and glittering veils of unreality - until at last they arrive at a place both ancient and sacred: Ygg, the living tree that marks the metaphysical boundary between Order and Chaos.

 

To their astonishment, Ygg speaks.

 

Its voice is low and resonant, filled with wonder and recognition. It gazes upon William with reverence, addressing him as the Bearer of the Flame. Though it cannot reveal much, Ygg affirms what Corin has long suspected - William harbours within him the raw, primal force of Creation itself. It is a power unfettered, unrefined, pure in a way that surpasses even Corin’s vast command of sorcery and Power. Yet Ygg senses a kinship between them, for Corin too possesses a shard of this primal essence - though hers is of a different strain, tempered and shaped by will and knowledge.

 

Ygg’s counsel is simple but profound: follow your heart, it tells William, and it will lead you home.

 

And with that, the journey continues - into the unknown, toward a destiny neither of them yet fully understands.

 

William and Corin journey onward, venturing deeper into Shadow, guided still by the invisible thread pulling at William’s soul. Once more, it is William - untrained in either Pattern or Logrus - who unconsciously steers their passage. Around them, Shadow shifts, subtly at first, then with increasing intensity. The landscapes grow more desolate with every step, fading from vibrant hues into ashen tones, until all becomes barren - a vast and empty wasteland that stretches without horizon.

 

And then, even that vanishes.

 

The ground beneath them ceases to exist. They are no longer walking but floating - adrift in a space devoid of form or sound, yet carried forward by an undeniable momentum. Reality feels suspended, unanchored. A silence more profound than Shadow’s emptiness surrounds them, and in the distance, they glimpse a single point of brilliance: a radiant light shining through the void.

 

As they draw closer, odd sensations begin to creep in. Shapes flicker at the edges of their vision - half-seen figures that vanish the moment they turn to look. Whispers of motion, traces of presences just beyond reach, create a haunting sense of being observed. But the source remains elusive.

 

Eventually, the light resolves itself into a colossal archway, flanked by towering pillars carved in ornate, gothic grandeur. The scale is immense, the craftsmanship impossibly intricate - reminiscent of the mythic gateway to Primal Chaos. The arch pulses with power, its threshold humming with something both ancient and deliberate.

 

Beyond it lies a staggering vista: a vast and living world. It rotates slowly, revealing two enormous continents, their northern tips nearly touching, separated by a massive ocean that dominates the globe. Between these landmasses, resting like a jewel at the ocean’s heart, lies a single vast island - shaped, unmistakably, like a star.

 

It is a place unlike any they have seen. And somehow, they both know - they have come to the threshold of something primordial. Something divine.

 

They feel it - a subtle gravitational pull, as though they could drift down into the lands below, to explore the continents and the star-shaped island that beckons in the great ocean. But before they can take in more than a fleeting impression, an overwhelming force slams into them, driving them to the ground. Flattened against the unseen surface of this strange void, they are left momentarily stunned.

 

When they lift their heads, they see it - or rather, him.

 

Towering above them is a figure of impossible scale and blinding majesty, evoking the awe of an angelic visitation or the surreal beauty of myth, a being not simply vast, but constructed in the language of perfection1. Seated upon an immense gothic throne wrought from dark stone and blazing light, the figure is that of a man - staggeringly beautiful, every line of his face and body formed with divine symmetry. He wears a thin, silken robe cinched by a simple belt, as if the plainness of the garment might balance the splendour of his form.

 

His head is tilted slightly back, eyes closed - but the sense is not of sleep, but of transcendent awareness. Though his lids are shut, there is no doubt he sees all.

 

A crown of white fire dances upon his brow, radiant and pure, blazing with a power unlike anything either William or Corin has encountered. Corin, drawing upon her Logrus sight, peers into the fire - and immediately understands. The essence that burns atop this figure’s head is the same sacred flame that dwells within William. But here, in this colossal being, that fire is magnified beyond comprehension - raw creation made manifest.

 

Then Corin sees more.

 

Merged with the figure, almost imperceptibly at first, is the form of an immense, ethereal bird - wings outstretched, its plumage composed of shifting flame. The image is not symbolic. It is real. A titanic, fiery phoenix, entwined with the man upon the throne. The two are not separate entities but one - a singular presence of divine origin, bound in form and essence. And it is watching them.

 

William is overcome by a profound and immediate sense of kinship with the vast being before him. It is not merely awe - he feels a connection that transcends blood or memory. It is as if he stands before his father, not in the biological sense, but in the deepest spiritual and elemental one. Corin too is struck by the presence, though in a different way. Within her stirs a flame of reverence, an instinctive awareness that this figure is no mere celestial monarch - but a supreme being, a divine architect, worthy of worship.

 

An immense wave of power rolls outward from the throne, washing over them and through them. In that instant, both understand that the being knows them - utterly. Their histories, their powers, their choices, and their fates are laid bare before it. Then the being speaks, not with a voice but with presence, with will.

 

He names himself Bennu, He Who Arises in Brilliance, the Maker of Worlds, the Inheritor of Creation. He confirms what William has long suspected and what Corin now perceives with certainty: that the blazing essence within William is no ordinary gift. It is the Abiding Flame, the primal seed of creation itself - implanted within him by Bennu at the beginning of all things.

 

Corin’s Logrus-trained senses now recognise it for what it truly is: not merely a divine spark, but a refined shard of Primal Chaos, sculpted and shaped by a being of unimaginable skill. Bennu, she realises, has mastered the art of taking that original, raw Chaos and transforming it into something new - ordered, potent, and wholly his. He does not merely wield it. He has composed with it.

 

Bennu tells them how, in his youth, at the dawn of everything, he split a portion of Primal Chaos from the whole and took it with him on a journey through the unshaped Realities. When the time was right, he sang. Through that song, he moulded the Chaos into a realm of his own creation - separate from all others, subject only to his will. A symphony of power and purpose, shaped verse by verse.

 

But now, Bennu explains, the melody has changed. The removal of his favoured child - William - has disrupted the harmony. He names William Heruial, the Lord of Twilight, and though his grief is evident, Bennu declares that the song must go on. He has other children, other verses yet to sing. He will not search for the force that took William from him, nor will he mourn openly. Instead, he alters the composition of reality to continue without him.

 

For now.

 

With neither malice nor affection, only divine necessity, Bennu raises his hand. Corin and William are cast out - not by gesture, but by a surge of overwhelming power, swift and inescapable. They are given no time to speak, no chance to plead.

 

In the blink of an eye, they find themselves once more before Ygg, the boundary between Order and Chaos.

 

Still awestruck, William turns to Corin and speaks softly. He believes he can reach out to Bennu again - he feels the connection remains - but he knows instinctively that any future communion will be denied, save under the most extraordinary of circumstances.

 

Wordlessly, they begin their return to Terra Prime. The moment has passed, but its echoes will ripple through reality for a very long time.

 

  

1 The sight is reminiscent of what Spock beheld aboard V’Ger, when he observed the huge form of Ilia.