Private In Divine Domains

[Arcturus Dinn]

He tipped his chin up slightly, adding sincerity and conviction to what he said next. "You always look fantastic."​

​

Talks of dying for them sobered him slightly, and he shook his head, savouring the kiss she gave his temple. "No dying, my love, I forbid it." What use was it to be the God of Death if he could not keep such from happening? No, he would prove himself this day. He would go from false deity to true deity, none would be able to doubt him in this.​

​

Laying Rhiannon down in the center of the dodecagram, Arcturus reached for the book that Pharus had fetched for him and thumbed through it for the third time since his wife had been put into the healing waters. Earmarked a page, then set it aside. First they had to weaken the veil.​

​

One by one he instructed Pharus to light the candles directly across from those he himself was lighting, 6 a piece, then with the lit candle to the left of each cone of incense they repeated the process, going in a circle to the right until all candles and incense were lit and back where they belonged. Arcturus began to speak in tongues, drawing upon ancient ur-Kittât in parts.​

​

To begin with nothing seemed to happen, then slowly but surely the runes they'd both etched into the ground ignited in a bright white light that soon shifted purple and green, softly flickering as though candle light themselves though no source of fire could be found, just the glowing.​

​

Each of the bundles were then opened, again in unison on opposing sides of the star, the reagents housed within set alight by the candles to their right this time. More words, and the air around them began to thicken, it seemed to shimmer in the pale light pouring down from overhead, and in the distance a crack of thunder sounded though no storm passed through the region.​

​

With the thinning of the veil, they entered phase one. "Pharus," he softly instructed, arms outstretched as though trying to contain the phenomena, "Make sure the candles remain lit, please."​

​

Then he stepped into the dodecagram, and knelt beside Rhiannon. It was time to form the chrysalis.​

​

Ishani Dinn ​

 

[Ishani Dinn]

"You always look fantastic."

She snorted. Oh, typical sweet Arc. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll get lucky once this is all over.”

He forbade her to die. She held onto him a little tighter all the same, as if trying to transmit all her love to him in a single embrace.

Laying her down on the ground, Arc began the ritual. Rhi wasn’t sure what to do, so she simply lay still, making sure every part of her body was within the twelve-pointed star. Pharus lurked in the background, his eyes on the candles.

Rhi could hardly describe what changed, only that she could sense it. Her skin tingled from her hair down to the soles of her bare feet and the palms of her hands. The runes began to glow, first white, then purple and green. There were noises with seemingly no cause—thunder without a storm, howling without wind. The air thickened and the temperature dropped.

A sudden sharp pain in her abdomen nearly stopped her breath. Was something wrong? Paranoia told her not to waste time, even if it turned out to be nothing.

Her wide eyes flicked toward Arc as he entered the ring. She reached out, grasping his hand. “Do it now,” she commanded, hoping to immediately dispel any hesitation he might have had. “I love you,” she whispered before letting go.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

With Pharus keeping watch, and having aided diligently despite his obvious desire to be anywhere else in the Galaxy, Arcturus sank down to his knees and called that book into his hand once more. He read the verses several times, faster than before due to Rhiannon's growing desperation, then closed his eyes. Hands outstretched toward her, as he began to speak and draw upon the very fabric which made up reality, which made up the Force, forming from it physical strands and manifestations which sparkled iridescent in the various sources of light around them.​

​

The words would not have been necessary had he any confidence in what he was doing, but he was new to this, so the psalms of the Book of Luminous Mist slipped free from his lips, anchoring him in place and providing him with a focus through which to try this new craft.​

​

It was not perfect. He began to weave the threads around Rhiannon, and at first they were loose and thin, draping over her as opposed to clinging like a chrysalis, but with each passing second his focus grew, and so did the intensity through which he pulled. All he could think about was Rhiannon, Starlin, and rebirth. How long he knelt there he could not say for sure, to him it could have been seconds or eons, but eventually his form improved, the strands tightened and nestled around her like a warm blanket.​

​

She was wrapped up, almost like the prey of a spider in its webbing, until not even her mouth could be seen. Rhiannon would find that she could still breathe, oddly enough, though all of her senses began to shut down. She could no longer feel her own body, much less that of the babe, she could not wriggle toes because there were no toes to find, she could not lift her head, or open her eyes, or...​

​

For a moment, all that she was had been weaved into the chrysalis.​

​

Arcturus opened his eyes with a gasp, hungering for the air which flowed around them. Before him lay a legitimate chrysalis, the type used by caterpillars to turn into butterflies. He stared at it, still shimmering and iridescent, and then forced himself back into action.​

​

"Come with me?" he practically begged of Pharus, "Please..." He meant it this time, he really didn't want to go looking for Rhiannon in the Netherworld alone.​

​

Ishani Dinn ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Of all the things Pharus could’ve expected to result from the candles, incense, and chanting, it wasn’t this. Rhiannon disappeared amid the silky strands, her body completely covered in the webbing.

He gaped at the chrysalis, eyes wide and jaw slack. Only the sound of Arcturus’ voice pulled him out of the shock.

"Come with me? Please..."

Pharus swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between Arcturus and the chrysalis and the strange light above them. The whole atmosphere of the grotto had changed, altered by what they had done here. A portal to the Netherworld…

He chewed his lip. “Okay,” he said, then louder and more firmly. “Okay, let’s go.”

With that, the boy stepped into the twelve-pointed star with them.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arcturus took the brave boy's hand, and just like that they disappeared from the Grotto.​

​

For one who had traveled between the planes before it felt like just a weird shift, like when the elevator softens to stop at its required floor, but for someone new to it he knew it would be disorienting. Everyone reacted differently, Arcturus had almost thrown up the first time, so once they landed on the other side, in Chaos itself, he kept a steadying hand on the boy's arm and patiently waited.​

​

Once he seemed stable, he released his hold. He knew that Pharus didn't like him, knew the boy would not be happy with continued contact. "Please, stay close" he whispered. He did offer out his hand, should the boy wish to hold it. You know, so that they didn't stray too far from one another. Not because he thought Pharus was afraid.​

​

Before them various shifting realms of the Nether lay. Arcturus reached down to one of the many trinkets on his belt and pulled free the compass he'd been given by Kal quite some time ago now, back when he'd freed Seydon of Arda from the Dreaming Dark. It would point him home, to Masque. That wasn't where he needed to go, of course, but it would give them some sort of initial direction.​

​

"Here," he said, offering the device down to Pharus. It was a weird compass, made of an incomprehensible material and pale silvery water that seemed to shift with life, "We'll follow the needle for a while, why don't you hold it?" Giving the boy some level of responsibility and control over the situation would hopefully help.​

​

Rhiannon had fallen in battle, the Field of Blades would likely be a good place to start. He looked around for signs of anything familiar, and in the far distance he caught a glimpse of the Spire of Destiny. If they kept on going the way the needle pointed, they'd come upon the River of the Dead... Good. That wound its way through most of the Nether, it would be a fine place to start.​

​

"How are you feeling?" he asked as they set off.​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Pharus shut his eyes, bracing himself for Force-knew-what. As he passed through the portal, his stomach seemed to upend, and he doubled over, vomiting on the ground.

After emptying the contents of his stomach, he sat up straight, wiping his mouth. Then he turned to Arc, glaring at his hand on his arm until he released him.

Arc handed him a strange compass. Pharus examined it, then sighed. “I assume it doesn’t point north.” So which way did it point?

"How are you feeling?"

Pharus shrugged. His nausea soon equalized, and he was able to survey the shifting scenery around him. The landscape was all suitably weird, but tolerable. So far…

“Let’s do what we came here to do and get out,” he said, setting off in whatever direction Arc or the compass indicated.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arcturus felt genuine sympathy when he saw Pharus keel over to vomit, and reached for a flask of naturally sweet spring water he always kept on his person. He offered it to the boy even after he'd glowered at him, and nodded his head softly. "I did the same thing first time I stepped through" he confessed. "It gets easier."​

​

Then it was time to set off, and Pharus was dubious of the compasses use. "It points to the Great Shifting Bazaar, Masque. City of the Shadows. That's not where we're headed, so to speak, but... It will bring us in the right direction."​

​

In that moment he realized just how much he was missing Kal. His best friend... It had been much too long. He'd have to send word to him soon, invite him to Zaathru. For now? He gestured toward the Spire, which was more or less where the compass pointed. "If we can reach that, I'll be able to find our way to the Field of Blades." If. The Nether wasn't exactly stable. Even with that in mind though, Arcturus knew there were certain ways to cheat the system.​

​

Shortcuts, so to speak.​

​

He glanced back at Pharus. Would the boy be able to stomach more distortion? "Trust me a moment" he pleaded, before he settled a hand back on the boy's arm. The next step they took was warped, the world seemed to pass them by like stars in hyperspace, and the next thing they knew they were in an entirely different biome. A river flowed up ahead, and across from it the Spire.​

​

Arcturus let go of Pharus, and approached the river with a sigh of relief. "Good to see you old friend" he mumbled down to the waters, which were entirely reminiscent of those caught within the compass. "How are you with boats?" he inquired, "We can wait on a ferryman, or we can walk..."​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Pharus took the water and drank. It helped, though the rancid taste of bile lingered in his mouth.

Great Shifting Bazaar, Masque, City of Shadows—these were all words that meant nothing to him. Nor did he have any desire to learn about them. Arc’s hand once again grabbed his arm, but before Pharus could complain, they shot off through the Nether.

The sudden stop jolted Pharus. He felt nauseous again, but there was nothing in his stomach to puke up. So he could only retch and grimace.

“Boats?” he echoed incredulously. Heaving a sigh, he said, “If the boat is the fastest route, we should take it. You’re doing this to save your wife and child, aren’t you? We can’t afford to waste any time.” He didn’t realize that time passed differently here in the Nether, but the point still stood. They shouldn’t linger.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arcturus nodded. Yes, the ferryman would get them to the Field of Blades faster. But he didn't want to put the boy through even more uncomfortableness if he was afraid of water, or boats, or... well, you get the idea.​

​

This wasn't turning out to be the bonding experience he had hoped, but Pharus was correct saving Rhiannon and Starlin obviously came first.​

​

"He'll be along shortly," Arcturus stated, knowingly, "Thank you, by the way... For coming."​

​

Just like clockwork, a boat knocked up against the shore, seemingly out of nowhere, guided along by a reaper-looking ferryman who stood on the prow. Arcturus stepped in, slipped from his pocket two strange looking coins, and handed them to the ferryman. Then they were off. He sat down, and bid Pharus to sit across from him.​

​

"I'm hoping we'll find her before we come to the Field of Blades" he mumbled. It was not a pleasant place, in fact it was quite literally an unending battlefield. Arcturus leaned over the edge of the boat, and glanced down at the swirling water. If Pharus was to look, he'd soon find himself face to face with what could only be described as fluid souls. ​

​

This was the River of the Dead after all, an endless flowing cycle of entities stuck in limbo. Could Rhiannon lay among them? The part of her which had not passed back through stuck beneath countless others? The boat drifted on, and his eyes remained fixed down. His head lifted quite suddenly. "Do you have a weapon?" he inquired, and even before Pharus could answer he was drawing a blade from his back. The Lineage Razor. He wasn't even thinking about the ghosts it could dredge up when wielded, he just wanted the boy safe.​

​

Kind ghosts where Pharus was concerned, he was no murderer. He'd be blessed with visions of his parents and his uncle if indeed he saw anything at all, not yet though they were not in battle and he did not need their morale boost.​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

"Thank you, by the way... For coming."

Another shrug. Pharus may not have been bonding with Arc, but he was a little less prickly than he had been previously. There was simply too much to take in here.

They took the ferry. Pharus was not inclined to seasickness, but the entirety of this realm was making him rather dizzy. He stared at the skeletal ferryman, expecting him to do something wild, and at the strange waters they sailed through, filled with the souls of the dead.

“I thought people became one with the Force when they died,” he muttered, feeling a very different kind of sickness the longer he gazed into the depths of the River. A sickness of the heart, a sort of spiritual despair upon being confronted with evidence of what lay in store for the living after death.

“The Field of Blades?” He didn’t like the sound of that. Arc’s question only served to spike his fear and worry. “No. I don’t have anything…”

And just like that, he was handed a blade. The first thought that crossed Pharus’ mind as he looked at the weapon was whether or not he could kill Arc with it. Of course, it would be incredibly foolish to do that here—he’d be stranded in this forsaken place with no way to return. Rhi would be stuck in her chrysalis, Marcus and Eloise would probably starve to death on the ship… Pharus’ primary concern was with his own desires, but he was no psychopath. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing the damage he had caused to so many people, including innocent children.

He probably couldn’t kill Arc anyway. The man was a powerful enough Sith that he was able to convince others he was a deity, after all. Pharus was just a boy with a knife.

So. No stabbing. “Thanks,” he said.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Pharus' muttered realization had Arcturus frowning softly in sympathy.​

​

"Most do" he assured the boy, "But some cultures forge the notion of an afterlife, and find a home here, and others... well, think of this as limbo, or purgatory, a place for those with unfinished business." Was that any more comforting? Arcturus couldn't say for sure. "I thoroughly believe that those trapped here can be given a way out, one way or another. To peace."​

​

He almost brokered the topic of the boys deceased family, but for now thought better. The implications were already there.​

​

While he handed over the sword, not at all concerned about where the boys mind might go, what he might think to do with it now that he was armed, he spoke of the Fields. "It's where warriors wind up, especially if they fall in battle. Left to fight their enemies over and over for an eternity. To some it is paradise, the constant bloodsport all that they could ask for, and for others? Well..." Probably more akin to Hell.​

​

The thanks was met with a nod. "You're welcome. When all this is done, what say we forge you your own? A sword befitting a Landed Lord such as yourself."​

​

Onward they drifted, shifting planes flickering past them, until they softly struck the silted shore once more. It was oddly silent, as though not even the wind could whistle, and as he disembarked he merely bowed his head toward the reaper in thanks. Just like that the ferry drifted on, once Pharus had also disembarked, leaving the two of them behind.​

​

After three steps forward were taken, the sudden clamouring din of battle arose. Steel striking steel, lightsaber on lightsaber, blasters firing this way and that, and countless gargled screams. Three more steps, and they suddenly found themselves in the middle of a battlefield. All around them bodies lay, or stood mid-combat. Arcturus instinctively put himself between Pharus and the closest combatant.​

​

"Steady" he softly instructed, "Try not to draw attention to yourself."​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

“Purgatory,” Pharus muttered, his lip curling faintly. “Wonderful.”

The Field of Blades didn’t sound much better. “I take it your wife died in battle,” Pharus guessed, based off of the description Arc gave him. He supposed that would be the first place to look, if they were hunting for a piece of her spirit…

Force, this was all so bizarre. He definitely didn’t think his day would involve traversing the Netherworld when he woke up that morning, though he was swiftly realizing that to live with the Dinns meant one had to expect anything and everything.

"You're welcome. When all this is done, what say we forge you your own? A sword befitting a Landed Lord such as yourself."

The corners of Pharus’ mouth started to curl into the beginnings of a smile—but he quickly caught himself, frowning. “Sure,” he mumbled.

Arc was chipping away at him, little by little, but Pharus was still resisting.

As they approached the Field, the sounds of battle could be heard on the wind. Pharus trailed behind Arc, who tried to shield the boy from the ghostly combatants. “There are so many,” he said, scanning the battlefield. “How are we supposed to find one spirit in all this?” Not even a whole spirit, but only part of one…

Somewhere in the distance, he spotted a figure of a man astride a white horse. At their side was another horse-riding figure, though they were smaller and, to Pharus’ sight, more feminine in appearance. The two rode together, fighting off the other ghosts.

As if she had spotted them, the smaller figure started to ride over—only to be stopped by the man. Pharus’ breath caught in his throat as he saw the rider from the side. There was a hole blown through his head.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

He caught the brief spike of excitement which burned through Pharus far too quickly at the mention of forging him his own blade. "Consider it done, it's a noble talent, smithing, learning how to master the forge will suit you well throughout your life." It was an open ended invitation, Arcturus was welcoming Pharus into his more sacred space should he wish it. All the same, he did not push any further than that, nor did he make it known that he'd seen that slither of a smile. Let Pharus remain aloof and apathetic if it helped him.​

​

Out in the field, Pharus made a very fair point: there were so many dead to walk among, too many souls to pick through, that the task seemed dizzying. Impossible. His heart sank, before he shook his head and strengthened his own resolve. "She is my wife," he whispered, as much to himself as to Pharus, "We will find her, we have to." Nothing could keep him from her, Rhiannon and he were fated. They had to be with all they'd withstood, in spite of everything they'd always come back together.

And then he saw it. Two figures on horseback. While Pharus was fixated on the holey head of one Arlo Renard, it was the Chaldean's companion set atop a horse of her own which caught Arcturus by surprise. As beautiful as the day they'd met, adorned in silken, Mystic garb as she had been when they're reunited on Coruscant... His sunshine, his butterfly, his Rhiannon. Who made each day worth rising for, each minute worth living.

"No, wait," he cried out, "Rhiannon, Arlo, please..."​

​

They were already on their way again, venturing away from them, and Arcturus hastened his step to follow. He stopped the moment he realized he hadn't grabbed Pharus' hand, and turned back toward the boy fully intent on keeping him close. He would not risk the boys life, not even if it meant losing sight of his beloved.​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Pharus tore his gaze away from the man with the hole in his head as Arcturus suddenly ran forward. For a moment he was paralyzed, unable to move—but then, as Arc stopped and turned to grab him, Pharus regained the ability to walk, and swiftly broke into a sprint.

The two figures on horseback were faster than them, of course. Arlo reached over and seized the reins of Ishani’s horse, urging it onward and leaving Arc and Pharus in the dust.

“Do that trick you did earlier!” Pharus shouted. “Jump from here to there!”

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Pharus did not fight him this time, when Arcturus snatched his hand and held it tight. Instead the boy hastened his step just as much as he had, running in a vain attempt at keeping up with the horses. A foolish endeavour, for what were they next to prancing ponies of the afterlife?​

​

"ARLO" he shouted again, when he saw how the spirit of the man seemed all the more intent on keeping Rhiannon from him, "PLEASE...."​

​

Yet again it was Pharus who spoke sense and wisdom, Arcturus was as he'd feared he would be, stuck within a state of desperate tunnel-vision now that he had seen his wife. "Hold on" he warned, as he pulled at the unstable fabric which made up the Nether in order to drag them forward once more. Too far forward, they passed the horses and ended up several feet in front of their target.​

​

Arcturus span on his heel, still keeping a hand in Pharus' protectively, and reached up his free hand. "STOP!" The command echoed through the Force, pushed forth from him toward the pair of spirits. He spoke to Arlo, though his eyes were transfixed upon Rhiannon. He had no clue if they actually would stop, or if they'd find themselves trampled by horses, but he had to hope...​

​

All the same he primed himself to shove Pharus out of the way if they showed no signs of halting.​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Though he was the one who had suggested it, Pharus did not enjoy being thrust forward again. He nearly collapsed when they reached the other side, dizzy and nauseous as the horses thundered toward them.

The riders came to a halt. Arlo stared at Arcturus with contempt. “I know what you’re here for,” he said. “You want all of her. But this part of her is where it should be.”

Though her Mystic robes and veil hid much of her body, up close the extent of Ishani’s mortal injuries on Tython were much more visible. Half her head was burnt, and her back was broken and hunched over.

“You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” Arlo continued. “She’s become everything she was taught not to be. A betrayal of her heritage. She was supposed to rebuke the powerful, not go around calling herself a goddess!”

He hefted his spear. “The Will of the Force is not so easily thwarted. She will die, as she should have long ago. But do not despair. Your day will come soon enough.”

His arm pulled back, intending to loose his spear and run Arcturus through the heart. But Ishani reached out and stayed his hand.

“I can’t let you hurt him,” she rasped, her thin voice like rustling leaves. “He may have hurt me, but I won’t let anything hurt him…”

Arlo glanced at her, then reluctantly lowered his weapon. Turning to Arc, she addressed him tearfully. “Why won’t you let me die? You’re just going to leave me again. I know you will, and I can’t bear it…”

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arlo had a point. They both did. Seeing Ishani like this, all the marks of her demise plain to see, left him shaken. He found himself sinking to his knees before them, hand slipping from Pharus' as he hung his head in shame. "She is all I am" he said, to Arlo, "I know it is selfish to want her back, in totality, to claim this piece of her too, but she is my wife, and I need her."​

​

As Arlo continued on, Arcturus found himself shaking his head. A resolve entered him, and when he next looked up he fixed his gaze back on Ishani. "But she is a Goddess. She is my Goddess, my sun, my light, my life. She is all that is good in the Galaxy. I need her... Our children need her."​

​

He got back to his feet as Ishani defended him then lamented his cruelty for being here, for not allowing her the release of death. "I will never leave you again, Rhiannon Dinn. You, the twins, that unborn babe in your belly, and the son we gained where only strife was meant to exist," this final part he said with the softest of gestures toward Pharus, afraid of how the boy might react, "You are my family, you are my whole world, my Galaxy, and I would tear it asunder to see each of you safe. I would break the veil between this realm and reality, I will break that veil, before I leave you here. This isn't death, Rhiannon, it's purgatory, it's Hell, Chaos. Please... Come home with me, and when the time comes we'll fade into the Force together - hand in hand."​

​

Arcturus did not realize that he was crying, words flowing with such sincerity and desperation that he could hardly see through his blurred vision.​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Pharus, who didn’t fully understand what was going on, let alone what they were talking about, just watched, his eyes darting back and forth between the speakers.

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Ishani said. “You’ve hurt me so many times. Arcturus…”

Contained with her voice as she said his name was a thousand years of longing. She may not have been able to believe in his promises, but she had to go with him.

"You are my family, you are my whole world, my Galaxy, and I would tear it asunder to see each of you safe. I would break the veil between this realm and reality, I will break that veil, before I leave you here. This isn't death, Rhiannon, it's purgatory, it's Hell, Chaos. Please... Come home with me, and when the time comes we'll fade into the Force together - hand in hand."

Slowly, Ishani dismounted, her ghostly form sliding to the cracked ground. She reached toward Arc.

“She has closed the circle,” Arlo muttered mournfully. “The door to the past is shut. There is no turning back now." He shook his head. "May the Force have mercy on you both.”

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

"I don't expect blind faith" he whispered softly, unable to keep a tight hold on anything even resembling hope. It was too difficult, too painful. What if she chose not to return with him? What if this was it... The Rhiannon out in Realspace would continue to slowly decay, their son would starve in the womb, and darkness would fall over Zaathru, over the Galaxy for all Arcturus cared. ​

​

"I never meant to hurt you, Blossom, I should have cherished you, worshiped you, I know that now, and I am working to make right all I've done wrong. I will spend the rest of forever proving myself to you, earning back your love and trust. There is no Galaxy for me without you in it, love."​

​

He would return of course, even if she did not, they had children to care for and leaving them with neither would simply be cruel. But he would be living for them, nay just existing. It could not be life without his source of air.​

​

Watching unblinking, unbreathing, as she dismounted the horse, Arcturus trembled where he stood. "I will stand by your side, forever," he promised as she reached for him, "Whichever way the wind blows..." The moment they touched he wrapped her delicate form into his embrace and held her close. It felt as though eons had passed since he'd last held her, since he'd last seen her, there was a part of her here that had been missing, that trepidation and wariness yet but also an extra layer of passion and stability.​

​

She could be whole again...​

​

Arlo spoke in a defeated fashion, no doubt highly unsatisfied by what had come to pass. "I'm sorry, Arlo," Arcturus stated sincerely, even as he held Ishani, "I promise, when the time comes, I'll bear whatever burdens the Force tries to place upon her for this. I will shoulder all of the responsibility, and let her pass ungrazed."​

​

Then he turned aside, no longer giving the Chaldean Mystic his attention, and offered a hand toward Pharus. "Ready?" he asked the boy. "It's time we bring her home."​

​

Pharus Dystra ​

 

[Pharus Dystra]

Arlo shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? You're not real gods. You just defied the Will of the closest thing this galaxy has to a true god. In a word, Arcturus? You're fucked."

“Please, let’s get the hell out of here already,” Pharus said, grabbing Arc before he even reached out his hand.

Arcturus Dinn​