Grim were the hearts of Achaeans as they pondered the gamble lost by
Hermes, speculating about the ramifications of the rising conflict
within the divine pantheon. The gods, too, were troubled, each
struggling to come to terms with the presence of the newcomer, Bal'met.
One young goddess, however, was quickly losing patience.

"The Garden may dither, Hermes, but I have not forgotten," came the
voice of Kastalia, Goddess of the River. "Our ancient bond lingers." In
a vortex of swirling mist the daughter of Moon and Sea appeared above
the lands, her expression that of unflinching determination.

"Come, Wild God," she cried out to Lupus, casting her gaze toward his
infamous hunting grounds. "Let us rid the world of these vermin and
restore Hermes to his rightful place!"

The roar of the untamed wilds rumbled across the land as the God of the
Hunt materialised in the heavens, the faint outline of a monstrous pack
of werewolves lingering at his side.

"With pleasure," was his reply, and with a reverberating snarl he
savagely tore open the fabric of reality, creating a passage to
Krenindala. Leaving behind all sense of restraint, the pack leapt
through, their howls fading as they entered the distant world.

"Wait!" came the warning voice of Scarlatti. "You chart a reckless
course into the unknown!"

The Goddess of the River was undaunted. "No," she replied. "They have
gone too far in daring to take him." Casting a final, resolved glance
upon the land, Kastalia and Lupus turned and swiftly departed into the
ether.

Werewolves faced off against ormyrr and Dala'myrr alike as the gods
relentlessly pursued them across the distant world. Savagely did Lupus
rip a colossal Dala'myrr limb from limb, while a second drowned in a
pool of its own blood at the hands of the Fluvial Queen. As the hunt
continued, back on Achaea, two figures appeared momentarily within the
crimson fog of the west: the cruel visages of Apollyon and Shaitan.

"Fools, running around like the mortal worms you coddle!" thundered the
God of Oppression. "Let us show you how real gods hunt."

The Twin Lords shared a malevolent grin as the terrible form of Bal'met
joined them upon the firmament. Without another word, the trio turned
and vanished, reappearing moments later upon the dusty surface of
Krenindala. Blood flowed thickly as the gods waded into the fray, and
Shaitan's swords whistled as they swept through the air, cleaving
werewolves apart with ease.

Suddenly an agonised scream tore across the world as the barbed lash
wielded by Apollyon, the Suffering, struck out at the Goddess of the
River, catching her by surprise and flaying her immortal flesh. Howling
with rage, a dozen werewolves placed themselves between Kastalia and her
attackers, meeting a gruesome end at the deadly blades of Shaitan.

All around, the shrieking Dala'myrr roared in frenzied ecstasy, and
Bal'met began to loom larger and larger, surging with preternatural
power. The next moment was eerily still, and a palpable sense of
trepidation hissed across the planes as Bal'met prepared to make His
next move. Advancing upon Kastalia, Bal'met reached for the struggling
goddess, tearing away the very divinity that comprised her immortal
being, roaring with a triumphant surge of power as he claimed it for his
own.

Enraged at the audacity of the new god, Lupus lunged for Bal'met with a
snarl. A howl of rage and surprised anguish escaped his lips as the
mighty Bal'met, bolstered by his added power, cast him to the ground,
knocking him senseless.

At once the distant howls of savage werewolves began to ring out, pained
and confused at this turn of events, but the battle continued to rage.
Standing protectively over the fallen body of his master, Grimaldrin,
captain of the werewolves, gnashed his teeth, tearing a dozen charging
ormyrr to pieces.

Shaitan gave a mocking laugh. "What is this? You have run out of wolves
and now must be championed by a pup?"

At these words, Grimaldrin launched himself straight at Shaitan's
throat, intent on tearing it out. The sickening sound of crunching bone
could be heard as the ribs of the werewolf were shattered, followed by a
victorious shout as Shaitan wrenched the still-beating heart from his
chest.

With Grimaldrin out of the way, Bal'met gave a gruesome grin, preparing
to consume the divinity of yet another member of the pantheon. At the
last second, in a desperate attempt to save her beloved, the Goddess
Selene made a daring charge from across the worlds, taking Lupus up in
her arms before racing wildly away from Krenindala.

As all of Achaea reeled in shock, a scream shattered the silence, and
the echo of sorrowful weeping spilled across the land as Ourania,
Goddess of the Moon, realised the unthinkable fate of her daughter. And
as dawn broke into the morning skies, the waning moon turned red as
blood.

Penned by My hand on the 9th of Chronos, in the year 610 AF.