Such was its great secret.

But the Wyr had always known it.

For they had devised ita"they, the first to play the game of gods.

Over the past day, the hinter-king had been hollowed outa"both flesh and that which lay beneatha"leaving him an open vessel. Then they had baited the trap. Bennifren had hoped to use the Godslayer's seed, but other humours served just as well, especially blood.

And scent was scent.

All that remained was to discover if their prey had been woken enough, stirred enough. Their brethren had been slaughtered, twelve in all, screaming in agony. Surely those on high had stopped their ageless dreaming long enough to turn their faces down toward Myrillia. Surely they would send one of their own, drawn by the scent of the murderer.

Bennifren found it amusing that the Cabal sought to pit man against man or god against god. For the Wyr's goal, though, a larger game needed to be played, one with levels of intrigue that stretched across ages, on all sides of the field. It had required a manipulation of both shadowknight and Cabal, of ravening rogue and calculating god. Even the lives of many of the Wyr had been spent to hide the design, buried under bodies and blood, a carefully crafted game of lies and false trailsa"all for one reason.

To slay a god. And not just one god.

The Godslayer had proven his name so well.

A dozen rogues. A dozen deaths.

All to wake the sleepers above.

Surely those blessed with Bright Grace, undisturbed for so long, noted their brethren flickering out, torn from their midst, torn from the aether.

But had it been enough? Had they come? Had they accepted the Wyr's hollowed vessel?

The witch stepped away from the tent, holding back the flap.

A naked figure stumbled out, bronze-skinned, black-haired, and long of limb. The hinter-king. His torso had been split down the middle, from groin to collar, and burnt back together, sealing what had been captured within, a trap of flesh.

Bennifren urged his milk mare forward. He waited in the sun as the hinter-king stepped out of the shadows and into the light. The king's face lifted skyward, perhaps searching from whence he had come, perhaps merely enjoying the last rays of the sun on his face.

"Welcome to Myrillia," Bennifren said. "Do you know what you must do?"

Sky blue eyes lowered to him, shining with an azure Grace. The words issued from on high, dreadful with certainty.

"LET THEM ALL BURNa"

APPENDIX TO MYRILLIA.

The Four Aspects of the Gods.

Air Fire Water.

Loam The Nine Humoral Graces of the Gods.

(PRIMARY QUADRICLES).

BLOOD of a god must anoint a path before the passing of Graces into a body can be fulfilled.

MASCULINE SEED, once blessed in blood, will pass the full aspect of a god's Grace to a person (until removed by a god of the same aspect).

FEMININE MENSES do the same as "seed."

SWEAT of a god lays the Grace upon nonliving objects until such a time the aspect is removed by a god.

(SECONDARY QUINTRANGLES).

TEARS of a god will heighten a Grace's aspect for short periods.

SALIVA will weaken the aspect.

PHLEGM will allow manifestations of the Grace beyond a body or objecta"useful in mixing alchemies.

YELLOW BILE (the waters passed by a god) will bless one with an aspect for a short period of time.

BLACK BILE (the solids passed by a god) will nullify a Grace.

end.